Fight for You (07) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: bodyguard!jk x heiress!reader; angst, smut (18+)
Chapter Warnings (series warnings in the masterlist!): foul language; mention of past kidnapping; slightly jealous jk, explicit sexual content (making out, dirty talk, dry humping, breast play, begging, slight edging, oral (m & f), fingering, unprotected sex [but please be safe!]) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 11k
Series Summary: Working at a private security agency has its perks. The downside? Being the personal bodyguard of spoiled, rich heiresses like you. But there are things that Jungkook didn’t expect, like rejecting you, falling for you, and realizing what he’d been missing all along.
A/N: Hi! Still on a little break! 😊 It’s the penultimate one so I hope you enjoy! And huge thanks to Ash @jimilter for this wonderful banner! 💞 If I missed tagging you, please let me know!
Listen to: Dancing with Our Hands Tied, False God, and Afterglow by Taylor Swift
Series Masterlist || Previous | Next
You feel your heart sink as your house comes into view, knowing that it’s another day closer to Jungkook returning to your father’s security team and being away from you.
He’s a little jittery, too, as you watch him from the backseat of the car, just like he’d been since the plane landed this morning. Throughout the day when you attended your meetings, he wasn’t his usual serious, focused self, but you did catch him many times gaze at you a little longer than usual then softly return your smile.
Now, he’s constantly clearing his throat and drumming his fingers on his lap, eyes flitting from one direction to another. You want to hold his hand and tell him that it’s gonna be okay - whatever it is he’s nervous about - and that you’re gonna work it out. If Mr. Sim notices anything off, you’re glad he doesn’t mention it.
You arrive home as the sun sets, and Jungkook makes it to your luggage first before he helps you out of the car, your yearning looks and brushing of fingers intensifying as each second passes.
The front door opens followed by Mrs. Hwang’s questioning voice. “Oh, Jungkook!” She greets, perhaps surprised that you let him be this close to you.
Jungkook returns the greeting and glances at you before you order him to take your things to your room, something that surprises everyone around you.
“I have a few things I need him to retrieve from my shelf,” you clarify, trying hard to level your voice to not give yourself away.
“Yes, Ms. Lee,” he says.
He walks ahead of you, shyly smiling at Mrs. Hwang then heads upstairs, remembering the last time he was here, which was when he took you home after your birthday. He grins to himself at the thought of how things have changed since then.
You open the door and let him in, instructing him to leave the luggage by the couch then you lock the door. Right as he turns around, you lunge at him, catching him by surprise, his wide eyes and parted lips slowly turning into a look of desire.
With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pepper his face with kisses as he chuckles.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says.
“I know. That’s why we gotta make it quick,” you smirk, pulling him into a heated kiss, your tongues entangling in between soft moans and giggles.
You both slowly lose yourselves in the moment, as he moves to lay you on your bed and his lips make the trek from your mouth to your neck then down your breasts. Feeling your desperation, he hurriedly unbuttons your blouse, removes his clothes, then pulls off your trousers.
You whine when he licks then nips your clothed pussy, causing him to growl.
“Need you inside me, Jeon. Want you now,” you pant, aching to be filled again.
You’ve had a taste and now you can’t get enough, wanting nothing more than to feel his essence in you.
“I got you, angel,” he smirks, moving your thong aside and quickly positioning himself, shoving his cock inside you, with you taking in the pain and pleasure.
He lowers himself and you bite his neck to keep yourself from making much noise, sucking and moaning as he thrusts in your pussy, feeling himself get lost in your warm walls that’s accommodating all of him, and that’s enough to get his orgasm to build.
He continues his pace, knowing there’s not much time left. His one hand now strokes your breast, the added sensation causing you to clench around him and reach your highs at the same time.
You let him cum inside you, having had the talk about being clean and being on the pill last night, and your pussy tightens once more when you feel his warmth, prompting Jungkook’s head to fall on your neck.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.
You giggle and hug him, your fingers stroking his hair as you pepper kisses on the side of his head, something he enjoys with how gently you do it.
Much as you want to stay like this longer, you know you don’t have the luxury to, so you tell him to get up and bring down any box from your shelf so as not to look too suspicious. He does as asked and you both hastily fix yourselves and try to keep neutral expressions when you return to the living room.
Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim are standing by the couch, smiling at both of you.
After a beat of awkward silence, Mr. Sim asks. “Is there something you two want to tell us?”
Your eyes widen. “Us? No,” you scrunch your eyebrows. “There’s nothing to tell. Why would you think there is? I don’t think there’s anything that’s of importance. In fact—“
Jungkook clears his throat, signaling that your babbling is just giving you both away.
“Okay, so tell me…” Mrs. Hwang grins, walking towards you to fix the mismatched buttons of your blouse and your slightly tangled hair. She looks at Jungkook who’s visibly nervous.
“Did Jungkook go about his day with a hickey on his neck or was that something he got while he, uhm, retrieved something from your shelf a few minutes ago?” She cocks an eyebrow.
You open your mouth to try and say something but it’s no use. This is a woman who knows you through and through and there’s no point in lying.
It’s your dry laugh that confirms it, if your warm cheeks that probably heated up the room already haven’t.
“Uhm, yeah. There may be a teeny tiny thing that we might have to tell you,” you mumble.
Mrs. Hwang pinches your cheek in adoration. “Okay, then. Why don’t you both tell us over dinner? I prepared some stew.”
You awake the next morning with a heavy arm on your waist and warm breath on your neck. After last night’s dinner and G-rated narration of how you and Jungkook ironed things out, you koala-hugged your bodyguard until he got the message that you didn’t want him to leave.
He agreed to stay the night, internally gushing over your pouty lips and fluttering eyelashes as you shyly asked if he’d like to spend more time with you.
You were about to ask for a continuation of your earlier “retrieve something from the shelf” act after you both washed up, but you saw him run his fingers through the row of your photo albums in your room, a mix of sadness and wonder painted on his face.
“I never had enough photos to fill even one,” he’d said, as he leaned back on you while you hugged him from behind. “I just have a few placed in a small box.”
They’d been solo photos of him that his grandparents took before they passed away, you learned, and you hugged him tighter as he shared the memory.
You went through some of your albums, as Jungkook requested, and you showed your favorite pictures while you sat comfortably between his legs.
He noticed the grand birthday parties you had as a child, the distance between you and your parents apparent. If one didn’t know the Lees, they could easily mistake Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim as your real family. And well, that wouldn’t be a lie.
You skipped your 13th birthday, and Jungkook remembers that as the time when your parents didn’t show up. Apparently, they haven’t really done so since then, often prioritizing business trips over their own daughter’s birthday. The rest of the photos had less and less of them and more of the other people you consider your family, including Yoongi and Hoseok.
Jungkook held you as you silently cried. He laid you in bed and kissed your tear-stained cheeks as he reminded you that he’s here now, one other person who cares about you and won’t ever make you feel alone. You fell asleep like that - his arms wrapped around your quivering body, his caresses comforting you even more.
“G’morning,” he mumbles in your ear. “We should go get ready.”
“Thirty more minutes, Jeon. Or an hour more, I don’t care. Just want to stay like this for a while,” you whine, pulling his arm to hold you tighter.
“I’m the CEO’s daughter. I’m using that card today.” You face him and kiss the tip of his nose.
“I'm surprised you don’t use it more often,” he laughs.
“I’m not that entitled,” you pout.
“Hmm, I know.” He softly kisses your lips until you finally smile.
“An hour more then, Ms. Lee,” he teases.
For the next two days of “freedom” that you and Jungkook have, you try to be professional. While he leaves you to stay at the staff lounge when you work, he does buy you cafeteria lunch on the first day and you both go out to a restaurant on the second.
His distance from you when you’re in an out-of-office meeting is much shorter than before, and he doesn’t miss the sultry way you sip on the straw or lick your lips when you eat your food to tease him.
This only prompts him to tease you back by adjusting his tie constantly - which you’d said drives you crazy - and overly flexing his biceps whenever you’re close, and smirking whenever he does.
On your last night together, you stay in your TV room seated on his lap as you give in to his request of watching the first Fast and Furious installment.
The almost 2-hour movie turns to three, though due to some commercials every once in a while, but it’s not long after when you end up in your bed in tangled limbs, with Jungkook telling you about the most memorable gift he received from his mother - a set of sports cars that she left on the night she went away.
“So…” Namjoon starts, as he walks you to the hotel lounge where you’re having your third meeting for the day. “I guess all it took was getting stuck in your vacation home with Jungkook, huh? Who would’ve thought,” he chuckles.
You try to act nonchalant. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about, Namjoon.”
“___, I saw him leave your house this morning with a bag,” he deadpans. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the subtle glances you were giving each other during this morning’s briefing; I felt like I was intruding with how affectionate they were.”
You heave out a sigh, mentally smacking yourself for being so transparent and apparently, not so discreet.
“You’re back barely a day and you already know,” you frown. “I mean, Mrs. Hwang and Mr. Sim figured it out barely 30 minutes after we arrived home.”
“Well, that’s on you if you did something right when you got home.”
Namjoon could only laugh at your embarrassed face.
“Just be professional, alright? He’s still your family’s employee,” he reminds you.
You answer with a pout. “Can I return you to my father?”
“You’re a brat, you know that?” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Sadly, you sold Jungkook too well and your father doesn’t seem to want to let him go. So you’re gonna have to figure things out.”
“I know,” you huff. “He takes this job very seriously, as you can tell.”
“Of course, ___. For the longest time, this job was the only thing that mattered.”
As you should’ve known, dating your father’s bodyguard isn’t as easy as you had hoped.
Your office floors are different and while you’re getting included in more meetings with the higher-ups, that’s still twice a week too little.
Jungkook’s required to stay in your family’s residence for 3-4 nights a week, and on the nights when he doesn’t, he takes the chance to do his workout at his friend’s gym and is thus too tired to speak to you when he gets home.
With your father being busy as the last quarter of the year nears - constantly leaving the city and being in countless meetings - and with you being preoccupied with helping the orphanage and your family’s Foundation among other things, there hasn’t been much time to be with Jungkook.
Aside from Sundays - his day off, where you both visit the orphanage in the morning and do whatever you feel like for the rest of the day, the only other moments you share are the affectionate smiles and glances when you see each at work or at dinner with your parents, and the occasional highly risky meet-ups in the staff lounge.
It’s been a month of making it work and you’ll take it. You’re appeased during the very few times he drops by your house after his shift or he lets you stay over to immediately sleep when he’s home. And every time you’re together is time well spent - watching the Fast and the Furious movies, eating food and learning how to cook, sharing stories, and fucking in every corner of his apartment or your room.
Some days though, you want nothing more than to lay in his chest while he tells you that you did well after a little win. You miss him most during times like this. Much as you tease him about his terrible misconceptions about you in the beginning, you know that he believes in you, sometimes more than you believe in yourself.
You check your phone to see it’s almost 1:30PM and Jungkook’s just about to take his break. You’d passed on lunch with some friends to meet him, having sent him a text earlier to meet you in your car in the basement parking lot.
You peek outside from the backseat and see him bow to Mr. Sim who’s been keeping guard, and right as the door opens, you lunge at Jungkook and pull him in a long, deep kiss, your hands cupping his face as his arms quickly wrap around your waist.
“Hmm, missed you too,” he giggles after you pull away, causing your heart to skip a beat, given that it’s not something he says often.
You kiss him again, hands on his collar this time, as you both get lost in the moment, knowing you’re not granted much time.
He slightly pulls the hem of your dress and it’s not long after when you’re straddling him, your pussy meeting his hardening length, prompting you to buck your hips against his.
Soft moans echo in the car, growing louder as his hands trail up your thighs, your bare torso, then your covered breasts.
“Fuck. Please,” you whine. “Need you.”
“Angel, it’s too risky,” he pants, as you make open-mouthed kisses on his neck. “And it’s gonna be messy.”
“But,” you huff, stopping to lean your forehead on his shoulder and he chuckles, knowing you’re probably pouting.
This isn’t the first time he’s gone against having sex during work hours and outside of your respective homes.
Your breaths get faster and deeper and he thinks you’re cutest like this, when you want him but can’t get any more than his kisses.
But Jungkook has long realized, ever since the start of your relationship, that between the both of you, he has to be the one to set boundaries, like he always has. Much as he wants to give in every single time, especially when you look at him with your puppy dog eyes and fluttering eyelashes, there’s just too much at risk.
“Hey, angel,” he mutters, lifting your chin to face him. “Are you just horny or is there something more?”
You furrow your brows as you always do when he teases, given the number of times you’ve called him to say you’re horny but he was away and was never one to do phone sex, not like he can even do it with a roommate.
But you’re reminded of why you’d been excited to see him in the first place, so you sit yourself comfortably on his lap and tell him the news.
“I finally convinced my parents to consider starting the educational sponsorship program in the Foundation,” you softly say. “The kids in the orphanage will be the pilot batch. They said to prepare the pitch for next week’s board meeting.”
Jungkook’s eyes sparkle even in the dark and this smile is truly the best thing you’ve seen in your life, especially because it’s not so easily given.
“___, that’s great! I always knew you could do it.”
“It’s just a pitch though, nothing set in stone yet,” you clarify.
“It’s still a foot in the door,” he comforts. “Isn’t that always better than just looking in from outside?”
“It is,” you smile. “I was just so excited and wanted to tell you in person because I don’t know when I’d get to, which is weird because you’re literally just several floors above me and—“
You’re cut off with a kiss that you easily fall into. “I’m glad you did, then,” he says.
You melt into his hug and know this is enough.
“So, what were you hoping for? Celebratory sex?” He laughs.
“Hmm, maybe. Since I did well and all,” you smirk.
“Well, there’s always another way,” he says, giving in.
He flips you on your back before you can say anything.
“It’ll be quick but keep it down for me, alright angel?” He whispers in your ear, nibbling it and eliciting a moan from you. “You deserve to feel good today.”
It’s not long after when your eyes are rolling back and your arm is covering your mouth to keep yourself from screaming, as Jungkook expertly laps you up, his tongue swirling your nub and moaning into your cunt.
He lets you kiss your essence from his mouth after you’d come.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispers, fixing your hair and your clothes right after. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, too.”
It’s days later when Jungkook is at home, the knock on the door causing him to groan, too tired for it to register to him that it’s most likely you who’s on the other side.
He got off his shift at 10 and squeezed in another workout at the gym, with Jin having to physically push him out the door before Jungkook could sneak another round of weights in.
You’re in a long sleeved mini dress, having come from a night out with some visiting friends from grad school and Jungkook lazily smiles at you.
Seeing his damp hair and bandage-wrapped hands, paired with his droopy eyes and soft pants, you know it’s been a long day for him. You tenderly smile back and peck his lips.
“Just wanted to see you to say goodnight,” you say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
This isn’t the first time that you’d come over late on a Saturday “just to say goodnight,” but like always, the guilt of turning you away - of turning you down for anything, actually - eats him up inside. He pulls your wrist as you walk away, prompting you to turn to him with a questioning look.
“I’ve got a bit of energy left, it’s okay.”
You smile and enter his apartment and fall into his embrace. You curl into his lap as he talks about his day and you talk about yours.
“So, Dana, the one I told you who has a Greek boyfriend, is inviting us to Mykonos in December. I’ve always wanted to go back and I’m so excited for you to go there!”
Jungkook looks at you, confused. “Isn’t the Spain trip with Yoongi and Hoseok in December, too?”
“Oh, right,” you say. “We can just move that to November or January.”
“That’s… easily a month’s worth of leaves,” he computes.
“That you have and are entitled to, right?” You question. “I mean—“
“And there’s still that trip to Gangwon?” He confirms.
“Uhm, yeah. I was hoping maybe we could still go.”
“Oh,” Jungkook hums, turning away to focus on something else that isn’t your almost disappointed face. “Yeah, sure.”
You feel the tension as the silence envelopes you both, and you can’t quite read his face or analyze the tone of his voice.
Perhaps you’re overwhelming him. Maybe you’re being pushy or maybe something else is bothering him. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he kisses you deeply, sighing into your mouth and swallowing your soft moans until you both detach to catch some air.
“Let’s watch a movie, yeah?”
You nod, sensing that whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk about it, so you settle next to him with your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around you.
Barely half an hour through the seventh Fast and the Furious movie, you hear Jungkook snoring, his head rolling back on the couch. You guide him to lie down and place a blanket over his tired body.
You feel a tinge of sadness as you kiss him goodnight.
You wish he could get proper rest and take time to relax and unwind, knowing that his job takes a toll on his mind and body.
You wish there was more you could do than just sneaking around and asking for whatever time he can spare you. You wish sometimes he would open up more - not about himself, as he’s learning to - but about his fears, his worries, the things he wants with you and for himself.
And you wish, as you admire his sleeping form, that he wants more with you the way you do with him, that he’s falling in love with you the way you are with him.
Jungkook stands in the hallway, back against the wall and trying desperately to listen in on what’s happening inside the meeting room as you pitch your plans on the Foundation’s educational sponsorship program.
There’s not much he can hear though, as he’s positioned towards the back of the room, only your muffled voice indicating that you’re still presenting.
He wants nothing more than to be there and witness you speak with vigor and passion the way you do whenever you discuss this with him, but as he stands outside waiting for the hours to pass, he’s reminded once more of all that he is.
He doesn’t work for your company, he works for the agency. He doesn’t have any role nor place here other than making sure that your father is safe. That’s what Jungkook is - an outsider, someone who’s temporary, who doesn’t belong.
He’s glad you both have Namjoon on your corner, who’s currently inside, watching and encouraging you. He’d promised Jungkook he’ll share all the details, knowing you’d be too nervous to remember everything. Jungkook is content with this, as it’s the closest he can get to seeing you at your best.
Inside, you tell the stories of the children you’ve met, and though you want to focus on hope and and the value of love and support to the youth through learning, the bulk of your presentation is about what this means for your company’s image, knowing that philanthropy adds to consumers’ support for a certain brand.
But the thought is there, and you can’t help but feel joy at the sight of the smallest smile that graces your father’s seemingly satisfied face, especially as you answer each of the board member’s questions.
“It’s a worthy cause, I suppose,” one says.
“Young people are impressionable and could be our target market for this kind of branding. This will be good,” another reasons.
“Well,” your father starts, causing you to hold your breath. “I think everyone is convinced that this will be good for the company. Perhaps we can all agree that my daughter shall oversee the establishment of this program and proceed accordingly.”
Everyone expresses their agreement, the surprised yet elated look on your face evident to everyone present. This is what you want, you tell yourself; it’s something you can contribute, much as you enjoy the business side of things.
Any other comments that doubt your readiness and ability to focus on this and your role in the marketing department enter one ear then out the other.
You did well, you tell yourself, imagining Jungkook’s soft smile as you do.
There’s pride in starting to face your fears or worries about being good enough to manage the company, but more than anything, you know how much good this will do for the children.
You thank the Board then exit the room and briefly glance at Jungkook as you near him in the hallway to go to another meeting. Your pulse quickens as he bows to greet and you feel his gaze linger, a grin painting his face.
“Could you hear what they were saying?” You ask later that night in his apartment after you’d texted you’ll drop by after his shift.
The unbelieving yet excited tone of your voice causes Jungkook to giggle.
“No, but Namjoon told me everything. He looked really proud,” Jungkook replies.
He cages you on his kitchen counter right as he turns off the stove for the premium ramen he made, with sausages this time.
“I wish you got to see me though,” you pout.
“Uh-uh,” he hums, kissing you. “But we probably would’ve been found out if I was there,” he continues, his lips tracing the outline of yours.
“And why is that?” You cock an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t have been able to control myself.”
“Really n— nghhh,” you moan, as Jungkook nips at your neck and unbuttons your blouse, gently cupping your breasts. His mouth reaches them, leaving red and purple marks in its wake.
“I— Uhm, Jeon,” you pant, not quite sure what you want to say, getting lost in the heat of his mouth as it sends shivers through you.
Your mind was just reeling from earlier this afternoon and now it’s all filled with Jungkook and how he feels all over you.
“Hmm?” He peeks at you with his head buried in your now bare chest. “Keep going, angel.”
“No, you keep going,” you groan.
“I intend to. The food can wait.”
You feel his mouth on your exposed cunt not long after, and soon enough, you’re hoisted up the counter and he’s undressing himself, preparing you for him until you feel that familiar sting of his cock inside you.
“Fuck, so good for me, Jeon. So, so good for me.”
He fills you deeply, hitting you in all the right spots as he holds your waist steady to sustain his pace, making you cum quickly, and hard. He kisses you more after he’d released himself in you, laving at your breasts and leaving marks again in the places where he hasn’t.
You whine from over sensitivity and he pulls away.
“What’s with you and kitchen counters?” You weakly tease, still catching your breath.
He pulls you close for a hug and ghosts his fingers over your back. “They’re pretty memorable,” he laughs. “Don’t you think?”
And as you relay what you remember from your presentation, you don’t miss the way he holds you longer than usual and looks at you longingly, proudly, like there’s more he wants to say but can’t bring himself to say it.
Your vacation home in Jeju has always been a special place for you, moreso now when it’s the place that brought you and Jungkook together almost three months ago.
And you could only thank the heavens that of all the weekends that Kim Taehyung - your childhood friend - decides to spend his very early birthday celebration, it’s the one when your father was asked to speak at a conference in Canada, taking Namjoon with him.
Which is why you’re here, staring at yourself in your bedroom mirror, clad in a ruby strapless gown, and Jungkook’s furrowed brows making you giggle.
“Do you really have to wear that dress? Is this a thing, buying your friends gowns for your birthday? Did he give his other friends gowns, too?”
You turn to face Jungkook and straighten his necktie.
“Yes, I do have to wear this because it’s Taehyung’s gift to me. And yes, it’s kinda his thing because he’s always been a gift giver and no, I’m the only one he gave a gown to because I’m his date,” you say, hugging Jungkook to soften the blow.
“You look stunning in it but I don’t like it,” he says.
“I know but you have nothing to worry about, okay? I told you that—”
“I know, I know,” he says, having listened to your explanation of your relationship with the man.
Kim Taehyung was your playmate, the target of the kidnapping when you were both 5 and since then, he’d been on and off the social scene - getting homeschooled, going to boarding school, hiding in the Swiss Alps… Then popping out every few years to throw a grand party then disappearing again.
He’d always had a soft spot for you. It was never anything romantic - Taehyung has a gentle heart who felt bad that you had to go through what you did just because he was your friend. Over the years, you two developed the kind of friendship where you don’t really talk, but every time he’s in town, he makes sure to spend some time with you. He always shows up with gifts, too, something you enjoy but Jungkook, not so much.
“He’s perfectly harmless and perfectly kind. And though I may be his date for this party, I’m yours tonight and the next ones after that,” you smirk, having decided to extend your stay here to spend more time with Jungkook, who eventually relaxes his face and kisses your forehead.
“Fine. But he better not try anything with you,” he groans.
“He won’t, I’ll make sure of that.”
The doorbell rings and you and Jungkook head downstairs and are greeted with the slick-looking man with soft black hair and a perfectly crafted face.
“____,” he greets, hugging you tightly.
You glare at Jungkook who scoffs at the act, warning him to behave.
“I knew you would look beautiful in that gown. I had it custom-made and I’m glad it fits perfectly,” Taehyung says.
“Yeah, barely any alterations needed,” you smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ____. Always a pleasure,” he bows, and Jungkook rolls his eyes.
“The look isn’t complete though,” Taehyung continues, motioning for his bodyguard to retrieve a box and present it to you.
You’ve seen shiny and beautiful jewelry in your life but this belongs at the top, with the rare pearls and diamonds joining perfectly to create an exquisite set of necklace and earrings, leaving you speechless.
Taehyung proceeds to put it on you, and you briefly get a look of Jungkook’s unreadable face, unsure if it’s wonder or something else in his eyes.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, fingers grazing over the precious stones, and you revel in the beauty of it around your neck and on your ears.
You know enough not to reject gifts like this from your friend, so you profusely thank him, earning you a shy smile.
“Now that you’re all set, shall we?” He asks, his arm out for you to hold.
You nod and walk out, with Jungkook holding the door, and the now unfamiliar look of seriousness on his face.
The party is a lot more fun than you expected. It’s quite intimate, as Taehyung only really keeps a small circle of friends and none of them are common with yours, which is something you appreciate. The food is delicious but what you’re really enjoying are the jazz performers who are entertaining the guests for the night.
With Taehyung assuring you that you don’t need to stay by his side the whole time, you’re able to go to Jungkook, with him telling you that you’re in an event where people can easily make claims about your relationship, prompting you to frown at his sudden coldness, given how he refuses to look at you when he speaks with you.
During the times that Taehyung is around you, though, he doesn’t fail to hold you by your waist, whispering in your ear, and looking at you intently while you speak. He has this sultry glare that he has on when you’re around others but when you’re alone, he turns into the gentle boy with the most endearing smile that you can’t help but mirror.
You know how it looks, but you sneak in a smile at Jungkook to remind him not to worry, but he doesn't seem to notice.
You decide to retreat early, knowing that despite the company, you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook and be ravished by him in all ways possible.
“I need to check on the security system and report to Mr. Han if it needs updating,” Jungkook says when you get home.
“It’s 10 in the evening, Jeon. You can do that tomorrow.”
“But I wanna do it right now,” he says sharply.
“Fine,” you frown. “I’ll be in the pool in case you decide that I’m way more fun than some alarms and CCTVs.”
You stomp to your room, feeling like a brat just to match his stubbornness and clear jealousy, so you don your white swimsuit and head outside.
In the security room, Jungkook sees you in the monitor, heading to the spot by the pool that you know can be captured by the camera. It’s where you remove your robe to show what you’re wearing. You slowly walk down the steps to settle by the ledge, away from where you can be seen.
Jungkook groans, knowing what you’re doing, knowing that he won’t get to resist you anyway so he walks back out, still clad in his suit, and stands on the ledge across from you.
“Hmm, the water’s so good,” you moan to tease him, knowing it’ll get him riled up.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
You turn to him with your fluttering lashes and flirty smile, thinking of how breathtaking he always is when dressed in formal attire with his exposed forehead and the slump of hair falling over his eye. “Enjoying the view.”
He groans. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?” He says, easily giving in. He loosens his tie before he pulls it off, followed by his suit.
He swiftly unbuttons his polo, his tongue poking his cheek in mixed frustration and lust, pulling the piece of clothing off to reveal his flexed biceps and tense torso, the ridges of his abs shining in the minimal overhead lights.
His gaze darkens as you lick your lips while you watch him work on his belt, then his pants, until he’s in nothing but his black boxers and you just know how hard he is right now.
“Angel’s waiting for you,” you tease.
He huffs and steps down to the pool, slowly walking to where you are, savoring the tension between the both of you. He makes it to you and rests his arms on your sides to cage you in.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you tried to make me jealous in this exact spot not long ago,” he growls.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to me after and how you made me scream your name,” you reply sultrily.
He grunts before he pulls you in a kiss, his tongue slipping in your mouth immediately and taking your breath away as he devours you with need. It’s almost feral, how he takes you in, swallows you like this, the sting in your lips telling you the intense desire coursing through his veins.
The hands that cup your face quickly move south to pull down your swimsuit, groping your breasts while his teeth now lightly bite your lip. His mouth starts its descent and his tongue laves at the skin it meets until it reaches your pert nipples waiting to be nipped and licked and sucked.
“Uhhhh fuck, you kiss me so good,” you mewl.
He’s an expert at this by now - one hand fondles your breast while his tongue swirls around the bud of the other, leaving you a crying mess as you ask for more. He shifts you underneath to let you feel how hard he is, while his mouth continues its movements that get more intense with your muted screams.
He grinds against you. “Louder, angel.”
You’re barely able to say his name before he’s hoisting you up to sit on the ledge, mouth still on your breasts, consuming them as if he could have them for the rest of his life. He stays there for a while, his other hand exploring the rest of your body, desperate to feel more of you.
He moves further down and you assist him in removing your swimsuit, giggling at the desperation that’s palpable, turning you on even more. You’re left bare in this open space and you know you have the freedom to scream and no one would hear, as you’d asked the caretaker and chauffeur to take the day off.
Jungkook buries himself between your thighs, lapping up your juices mixed with the water but your essence is overpowering. He consumes more of you, letting his tongue trace your lips, your nub, and your hole.
You’re propped on your elbows against the smooth tiles of the floor with your legs spread out, and you’re focused on nothing but Jungkook’s tongue, about to give you your first orgasm of the night, knowing it’ll be so, so good. You start to shake, ready for your release, and then… nothing, the hollow feeling of emptiness making you almost cry from frustration.
“Fuck, Jeon,” you shout. “I was so close.”
“I know,” he smirks. “But I want you to cum all over my cock tonight. More than once, too.”
He lifts himself from the pool, his flexed arms causing your pussy to throb even more, and he easily carries you bridal style to the outdoor chaise not far away.
There’s determination in his eyes when he kneels on the cushion and pulls your legs, angling you upwards. He aligns his aching and leaking dick in your cunt and spreads your slick to tease your clit.
“Fuck, please,” you plead.
His slow entrance is deceiving, as he immediately rams into you, repeatedly thrusting in and out with such intensity. Your muted cries of yes lets him know you’re enjoying this despite the lack of preparation.
“You don’t like it gentle, do you?” He groans.
“No, fuuuuck,” you cry out. “I want it harder.”
He heeds your request. With his eyebrows scrunched in focus, his jaw clenched and his arms at their maximum capacity of being flexed, he looks so sexy like this.
He shifts you again so he can buck into you while his fingers play with your clit, and you’re shameless in how loud you are, begging him to let you cum but he instructs you to hold on longer so he can cum with you.
Your body goes on overdrive as you feel him everywhere - his mouth on your breasts from earlier, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you, and his expert fingers fiddling your clit, like it’s muscle memory at this point.
He’s relentless, his stamina no longer surprising you, but there’s added intensity than usual this time. His grunts are sharper and every push and drag of his dick inside you is pointed and much more intentional. You hold onto the edges of the bed to keep you grounded as the toe-curling orgasm nears its peak.
It’s a few more thrusts that has you losing it entirely, your pussy clenching so hard that you scream in pain and pleasure, causing Jungkook to release his seed with you.
You’re panting as you blink away the tears, trying to catch your breath and he lowers himself, softly kissing your cheeks and your eyes that are still closed.
“You alright?” He whispers as he pulls out.
“Yes,” you huff, opening your eyes and wondering why he looks away.
“So that’s how you’re like when you’re jealous, huh?” You tease. “Duly noted.”
Your wink causes him to frown. “Shut up. I’ll just go hard every time, just tell me.”
“You have nothing to be jealous about, okay?” You say as you caress his cheek. “You’re all I want, no one else.”
“I know. It’s just… Everyone had their eyes on you and—“
“I had my eyes on you. I always do,” you kiss his lips. “But that was so good, Jeon. I’ll need a few days to recover.”
He nods in submission, choosing to let it go, knowing there’s more he feels, something he can’t quite express.
He cuddles next to you at your request, his hands tracing patterns on your skin while you run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the sound of your bated breaths and the crash of the waves down below. The sky is bright tonight and you take your time to marvel at the surroundings with the most beautiful man next to you.
“Come, let’s get cleaned up,” he says after a while.
He helps you on your feet and wraps you in a towel to head to your room.
He takes you again in the shower and on the bed.
Later that night, as you lay on your side facing him, your soft snores the only other sound in the room, Jungkook ghosts his fingers across your tranquil face, as if tracing the features, memorizing them.
He knows he can give you this - the kind of pleasure that leaves you full and satisfied as you nuzzle his arm and sleep in peace; mind blowing orgasms that let you focus on him and nothing, no one else; rare moments of calm that follow amidst the noise in his mind and his heart.
Because he knows, at the end of the day, it’s really all he can give.
The return to Seoul - and two days later, the return of your father - once more marks the return to what is now normal between you and Jungkook.
You suppose you should be used to it by now - missing him, wanting to hold his hand, wishing he’s your date to events instead of him either watching you from afar or not being there at all, wishing it’s easy to tell everyone that you love him.
That it’s easy to tell him that you do.
Well, that was your plan - it’s why you wanted to take that trip to Gangwon so you both could go for a quick drive to the mountains and be away for a weekend. But as you look at your text messages, you don’t see that happening anytime soon.
[From: Namjoon] Is your trip pushing through? Jungkook hasn’t filed a leave and I need to know. Gotta make arrangements.
You brought it up again when you got back to Seoul from Jeju and all Jungkook said was “sure” but didn’t ask for the details.
[To: Namjoon] Maybe not now.
You sigh and keep your phone, tempted to message Jungkook even if he’ll probably respond late in the night.
“Everything okay?” Ina asks as she sips from her cup during your meet up over afternoon tea.
“Hmm?” You look at her and force a smile.
“Trouble in paradise?”
“What do you—“
“Oh, come on, ____. Don’t tell me you’ll still deny it,” she chuckles. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on with you and Jungkook. Even the kids know it. But you seem pretty down. Anything wrong?”
“What? How could they know such a thing?” You squeal, focusing on her first questions.
She shrugs. “Well, they feel love with you. Maybe they see it on you, too.”
Your cheeks warm at the thought.
“Jungkook and I aren’t… there, actually,” you admit. “Well, we haven’t said it. I haven’t. I don’t know about him. If he feels it, I mean,” you stammer.
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. I mean, he looks at you like he does,” Ina smiles.
Much as that's nice to imagine, it only causes your uneasiness to shoot up.
“Don’t make me hope like that, Ina.”
She takes your hand in an effort to soothe you. “You know I wouldn’t, but there's just something about the way he looks at you, like he’s in wonder… and it’s often when you’re at the newborn wing and you do that thing where you caress the baby’s cheeks and make them laugh.”
“He had a rough childhood, he told you. It’s probably longing because he didn’t feel that with his parents,” you reason.
“Looks more like longing for a certain kind of future than his past, though. I mean, dreamy eyes, ones that can’t move away from you, a smile that’s just so pure and hopeful. Must mean something, right?”
You let her words settle and smile at the image of Jungkook, something you haven’t seen. But Ina’s right - it means something. In fact, it means everything.
You can’t contain yourself as you enter your parents’ residence later that night, excitement bubbling within you at the thought of encountering Jungkook again.
It’s odd, given that for months, you spent more time with him than anyone, something you truly looked forward to. But now - by your own doing, you remind yourself - you have to wait for the moment that you’re even presented with the opportunity to be with him.
Like now, at the intimate gathering that your mother organized in their home.
You spot him immediately in his impeccable black suit, his familiar stance and serious face still making your heart jump. You glance at him and see him purse his lips, as if stopping himself from smiling.
Jimin engages you in conversation, filling you in on his not-so-secret girlfriend and you fill him in on your almost-boyfriend since you and Jungkook never really talked about it, always just content being in each other’s arms - talking, laughing, kissing. But you look at him again and like always, he’s all you can see.
Your friend snaps his fingers at you. “You got it so bad,” he laughs. “There are people around and you’re ogling.”
“You know what it's like,” you nudge him. “You want someone so much that you don’t notice anything else.”
He giggles again and he almost chokes as you pat him in the back.
“Shift change. Cover for me,” you say, sneakily making your way through one of the hallways right as one of the bodyguards relieves Jungkook.
You lived in this house for years. You've embedded the ins and outs of this place in your mind because you spent most of your time exploring the grand place. You know the hallway that the house and security staff take to go to their residence, one that you know right now would be empty.
The carpeted floor cushions your clanking heels as you make your way towards Jungkook, gripping his wrist and meeting his surprised face.
You respond with a smirk and push open the door behind you and pull him in with you, crashing your lips onto his once it’s closed.
Jungkook takes a breath as quickly as he loses it in your lips and eyes you up and down, the mid-length dress fitting your form very well.
“We—“ he tries, but his sounds get muffled by your kisses.
“We don’t have much time.” Your look is soft before it turns desirous, grabbing him by his collars and caging him by the sink of the powder room.
“Mhmm,” he hums. “What—what are you doing?”
He watches as you loosen his tie and unbutton his polo, his chest the perfect canvas for you to mark him how you want, earning you muted pants as you gently palm his dick.
“Been thinking about you all day,” you moan.
Your wet muscle trails further south, down his abdomen and his hips, until your eyes face his clothed length. “Want to taste you badly. Can I?”
“Yeah but… we’re in your parents’ house.”
“Gotta be quiet then,” you wink, then you quickly unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his aching cock springing on his stomach and you moan at the thought of him filling you up.
Your knees settle on the carpet and you make quick work of licking him all over and putting him in your mouth, the familiar sting turning you on further.
“Fuuuuck,” he groans, trying hard not to make any more noise.
You get off on his held back sounds and swirl your tongue around his shaft, tracing the veins then spending time on his slit. His body tenses, his hands gripping the edges of the counter, and you relax him by grazing your fingers along his lean and delicious thighs, feeling the sensation course through you with every curse and every moan of your name that leaves his mouth.
It’s not long after when you settle for a good pace and bob your head up and down, your hand stroking his shaft near the base until you ease him in deeper, hitting your throat to bottom out.
You gag but the sound he makes is worth it and you feel like cumming yourself.
Even with hooded eyes, he looks down at you, your pretty figure looking heavenly with his cock going in and out of your mouth. Right now, nothing else matters but the feel of him inside your warmer walls, clenching for him.
“I’m not cumming in your mouth, angel,” he growls, lifting you from the floor and pushing you towards the sink to face the mirror, his dark gaze looking back at you.
He lifts your leg to rest on the counter and unzips your dress from the back to let it pool on your waist, revealing the lace bra covering your breasts.
“Wanted me since you entered, huh?” He sucks on your shoulder as he pulls aside your thong. “Couldn’t stop looking at me. I could see you, angel.”
“Want you alw—“ you gasp at the sudden feel of him inside you, causing you to hold onto the sink as he shifts you so he could push in deeper.
With his one hand on your waist and the other groping your breast, he shoves himself inside you with such vigor, it has you seeing stars.
“Shit, fuck keep going. Fuck yes,” you mutely cry out, knowing these walls aren’t soundproof.
He looks back at you in the mirror and you stay that way for a while - hooded eyes forcing themselves open, jaws slacked as tempered moans leave your mouths, his angry cock assaulting your pussy, sliding in and out so nicely with how wet you are. And you, asking for more.
It goes like this until you both climax, with your whole body, especially your sore legs, shaking at the sensation.
He buries his head in the crook of your neck as you both come down from your highs, unbelieving that he really took you in the powder room of your parents’ house where they and their guests are partying outside, the sudden feeling of frustration making his head hurt.
Your pants alternate until he's caught his breath enough to fix your underwear and zip up your dress, choosing not to say anything more. He turns you to face him and reminds you to work on your make-up before you head back.
There’s no fixing of your messy hair, no forehead kiss nor cheeky smile, just an unreadable look on his face before he tells you he has to go.
You mindlessly nod and watch him leave, an unfamiliar worried feeling bubbling inside you.
Jungkook doesn’t make it far before one of the staff calls for him. He’s paralyzed in panic, worried someone might’ve heard you both or suspected something going on, more so when he’s told that Mr. Lee is calling for him outside.
He gathers himself and heads back to the party, spotting your father who is animatedly chatting with someone familiar - the security agency’s Director.
“Mr. Yoon,” Jungkook bows in acknowledgment. “And Mr. Lee, you called for me?”
“Oh yes,” your father smiles. “My good friend here was just asking how his men are doing. I said they’ve been doing really well, especially the one who took a bullet for my daughter.”
Jungkook returns a smile, visibly flustered and elated at the same time, knowing that your father rarely compliments like this.
“Well, I shouldn’t have expected any less. We train our men well,” Mr. Yoon responds. “Jungkook here has always been one of our best - skilled, intelligent, knows his place. I’m glad it’s been working out for your family.”
Knows his place.
It shouldn’t be a bad thing - it’s something that’s been drilled in his head for years, even before he started working at the agency. The kid who wasn't good enough for his parents, for school, for his girlfriend should clearly know his place; the bodyguard whose only job is to protect his client must know his place, the man who had to learn to survive must know his place, know what he can wish and aim for, what he can claim.
The conversation fades into the background in Jungkook’s head, as his reality hits him again, especially as you return to the party in your marigold dress, sparkling jewelry, and practiced smile as you entertain some of the country’s richest socialites.
Jungkook can vaguely make out the exchanges around him but between the shares and islands purchased, the high-level and exclusive events coming up, and you - what you contribute to the company, what you do for others, what you own and desire, who and what you are… You may not always feel like you belong here but you do, and this is your world.
It isn’t his.
“Well, I’m really glad that ___ chose you, then,” Mr. Yoon says, bringing Jungkook back to the party.
“I agree. I used to wonder what she saw in you,” your father continues. “But I don’t know who else could’ve protected her better than you. No offense to Namjoon, though, but he agrees,” he laughs.
Jungkook laughs along, choosing to ignore the heaviness in his heart and the cloud of thoughts plaguing his mind.
You crane your neck to the window to check for perhaps the fiftieth time in the last half hour if Jungkook had returned yet. You left your parents’ house over an hour ago, having stayed a little longer to entertain the Parks.
Mr. Sim hums from the driver’s seat, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror from time to time to give you a comforting smile, while Namjoon busies himself with work on his phone. You sigh and sit upright, lolling your head to the side, hoping Jungkook would come home already.
Then there’s a knock on the door.
“Jeon!” You say as you exit the car. “I didn’t know you left the party early.”
“Yeah,” he nods with a half smile, clutching on the bag strapped over his shoulder. “Mr. Han told me it was okay. I wanted to get a workout in.”
You take in his exercise shorts and oversized hoodie. “I dropped by the gym, actually. Jin said you didn’t stay long.”
“Oh,” Jungkook furrows his eyebrows. “I wanted to run.”
You nod, trying not to worry yourself about his unusual lack of energy around you, especially after what happened earlier.
“Why’d you wait? You could’ve just gone home. It’s been a long day for you.”
“I wanted to see you again,” you smile.
“Well, we’re seeing each other tomorrow.”
“Yeah, but, you know, it was pretty fun earlier,” you giggle. “Just thought maybe we could…”
You see him sigh and you deflate in return.
“What’s wrong?” You move closer to him to see his face more clearly.
“We can’t do that again, okay?” He looks at you with a tinge of sadness and disappointment. “It’s too risky.”
“But we didn’t get caught,” you nudge him.
“Yeah, but what if we did?” His voice raises slightly, catching you off guard.
“That was in your house where there was a party happening and anyone could’ve seen us. That was so reckless, ____. And I’m so stupid that I let it happen.”
“You make it sound like it was such a terrible thing,” you say softly.
Jungkook’s heart breaks a little at the sight of your sullen face, looking down on the ground to avoid his glare. He wants to comfort you but he can’t bring himself to, given all the noise in his mind.
“Your father was right there. He could’ve found out!” He cries out in frustration, surprising you and himself.
“So what if he finds out?” You respond, your tone getting higher as well. “I’ll tell him the truth then, that you’re my boyfriend and I want to be with you. What can he do? Exile me? Disown me? You and I can make it work; we said we would. We can run away together somewhere if we need to.”
“Then what about me?” His face hardens. “It’s easy for you because you have the money to make it work. I don’t. What if the agency finds out? What if your dad gets angry at me? He trusts me enough already and this is just breaking it.”
“So what, suddenly it’s a mistake that we’re together?” You say, in shock at the implications of his words.
“That’s not what I meant, I just… It’s different for you, okay? I can lose everything.”
“But it’s okay if you lose me?”
The silence that follows causes your heart to slowly crack.
“You’re not getting it, ___,” he huffs. “This job means a lot to me. And there are still rules I have to follow and that—”
“But things are different now, Jungkook,” you argue.
“There are options for you. I know it seemed like this was your only choice then because you had your plans. But you have more freedom now to do whatever you want and not be tied down to a job that’s very demanding and takes up too much of your time, I mean, you don’t have to worry about providing for me and—”
“What do you mean, I don’t have to worry? And what, expect you to take care of everything? To take care of me? And be reminded of what I’m not? Of what I can’t give you?”
“That’s not it. I just meant— I don’t need you to do all that. This isn’t about what you think you don’t have. That doesn’t matter.”
“___, you talk about a weekend getaway to the mountains or a vacation on some island like I can afford it, like I can afford to take weeks off from work and not suffer the consequences,” Jungkook scoffs.
“I can’t even take you to a fancy restaurant for a date or buy you jewelry that isn’t made from diamonds or whatever expensive gem you’re used to wearing. I get it. You’re rich, I’m not. And that sucks. But you could at least respect me and my job, that I don’t wanna break any more rules than I already am by being with you just so I won’t lose what’s paying me enough to be able to date you.”
You hold his gaze, your sad eyes mirroring his. There’s more you want to say but you don’t know what or how to say them. You let the silence envelope him, knowing that the cool night’s breeze is probably what he prefers over you right now.
His head drops. “I’m pretty tired. I just wanna sleep. You can join me if you like.”
You know when you’re not wanted. And tonight you aren’t.
“It’s okay, I’ll head home. Go get some rest,” you softly say.
“Goodnight,” he hums as he starts backing away.
“Goodnight.” You enter the car and head home.
You awake the next morning to a text that you probably should’ve expected.
[From: Jungkook 💞] Can I pass today? Will help Jin with some repairs at the gym
[To: Jungkook 💞] Sure. I’ll just see you around.
[From: Jungkook 💞] Ok
You don’t see or hear from Jungkook for the rest of the week.
Jungkook grunts as he releases the bar, the pain in his arms and shoulders now starting to be too much. But he pushes through though, moving to another equipment and lifting his maximum weight as if he hasn’t been doing this all night.
It’s Saturday, exactly a week since your little argument that Jin is convinced can easily be fixed if you both just talked.
It’s also the last time Jungkook had seen you, given your father’s busy schedule. You messaged him on Monday and Tuesday but Jungkook didn’t get to reply, until you stopped messaging altogether, perhaps giving him the space he’d silently asked for.
His mind has been all over the place, and it’s Jin who helped him realize that it has been since the moment you two got together. It wasn’t until you both came down from the immediate high that things had become clearer to Jungkook - his place, his role, not just in your life but in life in general.
It was a bitter pill to swallow but one he forced himself to. But even then, he’s unable to shake off the resigned look on your face that night and how much he wanted to just hug you but he didn’t feel he could, knowing his heart was breaking because of you, even if it wasn’t even your fault.
“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” Jin says from next to him.
“My grip is fine.”
“Not this,” his friend chuckles, motioning to the weights. “I meant your relationship. You’re too hard on yourself, always have been.”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to claim anything for myself,” Jungkook replies, preparing to go another set. “People like me aren’t handed things in this world. I had to learn to fight for them.”
“Then why aren’t you fighting for her? Why can’t you fight your insecurities and your worries and your past to be with her? Why do those always come first?”
Jungkook sits up on the bench and tries to catch his breath, letting Jin’s words settle, the questions ringing in his head, trying to find some answers.
His silence signals that he doesn’t have them, so Jin throws him a towel and gestures towards the shower.
“Call it a night, Kook, then call her. You need to talk things out.”
The gym smells like sweat and the musky scent of the place catches you off guard. You were here last week and had only caught Jin closing up but tonight, the lights are all on, despite it being past closing hours, so you know Jungkook is here, or at least, hadn’t been gone too long if he isn’t.
The sound of your heels against the cement floor prompts the gym owner to turn around and greet you with a smile.
“Hey, it’s nice to see you again,” he says.
“Hi, Jin. I hope I’m not being a creep or like, desperate,” you smile shyly.
“Nah, you’re good, ____. My friend just needs a bit of a push. He’s kind of an idiot sometimes.”
“I should’ve been more understanding or tried to see things from his perspective,” you sigh, knowing that at the end of the day, you’d failed to be mindful, focusing only on your wants and needs.
“I’ll just apologize on his behalf,” Jin offers. “He hasn’t been in a relationship for over a decade so… he’s kinda rusty.”
You’re about to respond when you hear the locker doors close and heavy footsteps dragging against the floor. You turn and see Jungkook, clad in shorts and a sweatshirt, damp hair covering his droopy eyes that’s visible from several feet away.
He stops and stares at you dressed in your favorite skirt and blazer ensemble, looking beautiful and completely out of place, and a huff escapes his lips.
You slowly walk towards him and place your bag on the floor.
You take in his tired and almost defeated look and all you want is to forget what happened so you could hold him again.
You softly kiss his cheek and let it linger, missing the way his skin feels against your lips.
His heart throbs even more at the act, the remnants of the past week’s emotions and emptiness causing him to give in. He gingerly places his hand on your back and nudges you closer, prompting you to lay your head on his chest and it’s when his arms wrap around you that you release a sigh, and it feels as if you’ve been holding your breath the entire week without him.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, inhaling the scent you seem to miss everyday.
“I’m sorry, angel,” he kisses your forehead, falling into your touch as if last week hadn’t happened, knowing that right now, this is what he needs. “I missed you so much.”
Another week goes by and you should’ve expected that Jungkook would just move on from what had happened without really talking about it. His looks are longing, almost apologetic and his smiles are lingering but you let them comfort you instead of worry you.
But neither of those are present when you make it to work on Monday morning and enter your father’s office, with Jungkook seated on the chair and your father prompting you to sit on the other.
“Something’s come to my attention and it’s a matter that needs to be discussed,” he says, his tone undecipherable.
You look at Jungkook from across you, seeking solace and wanting to give encouragement as well. But his anxiety overtakes him and try as you might to hold his gaze, he turns away, unable to look at you.
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Comission done for @castielisasunflower , my first bidder on @ficfacers charity auction 2021!
Her request was a comic-like art for this scene from her fic Only Lost is Found!
Link to the fic
Thank you so much for your support on FIcFacers 2021 and for your biding on me! ^_^ And for your patience waiting for your art, too!
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Twitter Sk8 Bang collaboration (part2)~
Back again with another one of these! This time my partner was @katyastark2 on twitter
Check out the fic that goes with it on AO3! She wrote a very funny, charming story, and I had a lot of fun working with it. Langa goes to their resident skater playboy for advice on asking out a certain someone, (with varying results).
Joe’s 6 Not-So-Fool-Proof Ways to Get a Date (SFW//Renga)
(link in notes)
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Rafe Cameron x reader
These gifs inspired something, I apologize in advance
Word count: 1,573
Warnings: 18+ poorly written smut, swear words, slight angst. This was really quick n it was just a thought I had so don’t expect anything amazing, also I didn’t really establish the relationship between rafe and reader but they’re close friends
The way rafe looks when he sleeps can really make your mind run
Rafe was sleeping on the couch across from you, shifting here and there, his soft Rhythmic breathing was comforting in the warmth of the setting sun. You were starting to fall asleep yourself when his brows raised slightly, his breath hitched and he shifted again, a quiet moan escaping his lips, it was so subtle if you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t have noticed it at all but you definitely heard it. To anyone else it might’ve sounded like he was mumbling nonsense in his sleep but you could tell by the look on his face that the noises coming from his mouth were far from innocent
He was whimpering ever so quietly and it was driving you insane, only a moment ago you were admiring how peaceful he looked whilst asleep, lulling yourself to sleep with daydreams of him and now you were nowhere near tired. At one point you could’ve sworn you heard him say your name, although that part maybe you imagined- “y/n” your thoughts cut off by another whine of your name, this time loud enough there was no way to mistake it as your imagination or wishes, definitely not.
All you wanted to do was wake him up and make his dreams come true, but he looked so peaceful, and it felt so wrong to be watching this, and to be thinking the filthiest things while doing so.
“Please” rafe whimpered again, so softly, he sounded so desperate.. you couldn’t handle it anymore. You abruptly stood up so you could get a glass of water from the kitchen but as you stood rafe opened his eyes, clearly he wasnt in that deep of a sleep. “Shit” you muttered to yourself as he pushed himself up from his position, you felt so guilty for waking him up.
You continued your journey to the kitchen, you couldn’t even look at him right now, there was no telling how much you’d embarrass yourself if you didn’t leave the room for just a minute.
Unbeknownst to you he was following your lead.
“hey” Rafe said from behind you, pouring himself a glass of water, you choked on your water as he spoke, nearly shitting yourself from being caught off guard. After you calmed down and he stopped making fun of you, you were able to speak “hey, how was your nap?” You coughed.
“Uh, it was fine” he shrugged.
“Nice” you awkwardly chuckled
“Okay… why are you acting so fucking weird” he raised a brow
“I’m not” you shook your head
“You definitely are”
“Mm no I’m completely fine” you blushed, remembering your thoughts from before.
“n/n, come on, what’s up?” He started to look concerned, but mostly confused.
“You can always talk to me you know that, did something happen?” He walked over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, using one to rub the sleep from his eyes then putting it back to its place on your shoulder, slowly sliding his hands down your arms until they eventually fell back to his sides. You just stared at him the whole time, not sure whether or not you should confess to what you witnessed, you weighed the pros and cons of including all of the fantasies you had, you were at a complete loss for words. You shook your head.
I mean what’s the worst that could happen right? “You were moaning in your sleep” you blurted out.
His breath hitched, clearly embarrassed, you could tell his mind was racing.
“Was it about Barry” you joked, hoping to ease the tension…. it didnt work, he looked away from you, cheeks red. “Wait… was it actually?” You giggled.
His head snapping back in your direction, “what the fuck? No” he sighed in annoyance. “What? Do you have a problem with being gay?” You teased.
“Y/n. Obviously not, shut the fuck up”
He started to walk away.
“Oh come why are you so embarrassed, rafe. It’s not like we don’t talk about stuff like this anyway” you pushed.
you guys were pretty close, you really didn’t have boundaries, although you were being a bit of a hypocrite seeing as you almost passed out at the idea of telling him what you had heard.
He turned and walked back to you, getting too close. “Really, n/n?” He squinted and shook his head “dont act like you dont know, like you didnt hear something you wished you hadn’t”
“It was just a sex dream, rafe.” You scoffed.
“That’s not what i mean” looking down to his feet, looking more upset than embarrassed now.
“Well what then?”
“Dont act so fucking stupid, you wouldn’t have been acting so awkward if you didnt hear more than just a moan or two”.
Something came over you, as he started to walk away again you grabbed his wrist “like what?”, You tilted your head “you pleading and whining for me to fuck you? You sounded so desperate” his eyes widened, you could tell he was holding his breath, the hair on his arm standing up. “Did you get what you wanted in dreamland?” You teased.
“nowhere near what i wanted” he breathed,
You hummed in response “should i give you what you deserve then?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, Expecting to wake up again.
“Well?” You pushed.
“please” he begged, pulling you into him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him harshly, it was immediately heated and needy. your body was so full of fire. his lips trailed down your neck as he pulled you closer to him, as if you could actually get any closer, even as tight as you were holding onto each other it didnt feel like enough. You grabbed either side of his face and pulled him away from your neck to look at him for a moment. He gulped, breathing heavily, “please” you kissed him on the lips again shortly before trailing your mouth down his neck to his collarbone “pleasepleaseplease” his hands trailed down your body as he moaned out your name “i need you, please i cant take this anymore”
You pulled away from him and grabbed his hand, leading him up to his room, he held onto you closely the whole way there. kissing the side of your neck here and there, trying to keep contact as much as possible.
Once you got into his room he turned you to face him, kissing you and removing each other’s clothes hastily. He pulled away to take in the moment. “God, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He sighed, pushing you into the bed.
You rolled over so you were straddling him, “tell me,” you splayed your hands over his chest. “What happened in your dream? What were you begging for?”
he guieded your hand with his own down to his cock, you went along with his demonstrations and wrapped your fingers around him, his hand still atop yours, moving together, you starting pumping your fist at an agonizingly slow pace.
“Is this What you want?” You cooed, speeding up slightly. “More” he breathed out, barely coherent already and you barely even started. You removed your hand from his cock and held the hand he had used to guide yours, firmly pinning his wrist onto the bed.
You leaned over and swirled your tongue around the tip of his penis, he whined, encouraging you to continue, you took it fully into your mouth and hallowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length.
“just like that, don’t stop, please” he rasped, sinful moans filling the room, you slowly removed your mouth from him, replacing it with your hand, “god, you’re so sensitive. I love the way you sound, so desperate for me to touch you” you teased, speeding up your hand as you leaned over to kiss him gently, using the hand you had pinning his down to hold his cheek, his hand following suit and resting over yours.
You leaned back and lined yourself up with his cock, moving your hands back to his chest, you sunk onto him.
moaning in unison, as you started rolling your hips “so good” he muttered, placing his hands on your waist.
“so close, I’m almost there” he panted.
“Hold on a little longer for me okay? You can do it, just a little more” you cooed, as you quickened your pace his grip on your waist tightened, “y/n please”
He grunted, flipping you over, snapping his hips, going at an excruciatingly fast pace, he went from a whining and begging for you to do anything you wanted to being in complete control in the blink of an eye.
“Fuck” he buried his face in your neck, keeping up with his pace.
“raferaferafe oh god, fuck, don’t stop”, your fingers digging into his shoulders, you couldn’t stop whatever slew of words were coming from your mouth, you were on the edge and nothing else mattered, you felt him becoming more sporadic with his movements as he came into you, your eyes clenched shut and your body tensed as a wave of ecstasy washed over you as you reached your climax.
He rolled off of you, and wrapped his arms around you laying his head on your chest, he was completely worn out.
“How close was that to your dream?” You said playing with his hair. “It was so much better”.
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just for laughs
pairing: chris evans x f!reader
warnings: mention of a shitty ex, mentions of insecurities
word count: ~1.2k
summary: chris helps y/n overcome an insecurity of hers
author's note: hiya peeps! enjoy!
Chris was upset.
Chris was upset because his girlfriend was upset.
Did he absolutely know she was upset?
But she had to be because she wasn't laughing at any of his jokes.
"Hey hey hey, look at this one I found—" he chuckled as he looked up, just as she turned her head towards him. "What is it?" Y/N grinned. "This pick-up line from the show Wild n Out. It says, girl are your parents beavers? 'Cause you built like DAYUM," Chris said and Y/N grinned hugely, causing his face to fall. Nope, didn't work yet again. "Hah, that's hilarious! If you had said that to me I'd have accepted it."
"Yeah," he mumbled and continued scrolling, leaving Y/N to do whatever she was doing (which was trying to fall asleep because it was very late at night).
Chris and Y/N had started dating a month ago, and they were extremely happy in their relationship. Chris loved almost everything about her— almost, because the only thing he hated about her was the fact that she never laughed at any of his jokes.
She'd verbally confirm that the joke was good but she'd never, ever laugh. He only got smiles or grins from her and he couldn't understand why. Some of the jokes he made caused whole rooms to erupt into boisterous laughter but he never got a laugh out of her. And that made him very sad. If she liked his jokes, why did she never laugh? Turning towards her, he smiled when he saw her fast asleep.
"Goodnight, sweetheart." Keeping his phone away, he lay down next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, spooning her. He fell asleep just minutes later.
"Okay, that's it! That's it! I have to ask you!" Chris slammed his hand on the desk in front of him, startling Y/N. 8 months had now passed since they started dating and Chris was tired. Tired, because for 8 months she hadn't laughed at any of his jokes. Not one. Not even a tiny chuckle or a giggle or a titter. Only a smile and, "the joke was hilarious!" Why was she not laughing? "Chris, is everything okay?" He shook his head.
"Nothing is okay. I'm going to be blunt here— why don't you ever laugh at any of my jokes? I'm dying to hear you laugh, sweetheart, you always tell me my jokes are good but you never ever laugh! Wouldn't a laugh be a much better and quicker way of telling me you think I'm hilarious? It's just— it's been 8 months…" Y/N pursed her lips and looked down, scratching her arm.
"No, Chris, your jokes are awesome, I swear," she began, "It's just— I haven't— it's been a long time since I've… actually laughed. It's not you, it's me." Her confession shocked him. He went to the couch and sat next to her, taking her hand in his. "How long has it been…?" he whispered, quickly regretting his outburst as a tear slipped down her cheek. She turned and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "A few years."
"Years?! You haven't laughed in years?" he blurted out, his heart shattering into two as Y/N sniffled and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Chris," she sobbed and Chris pulled her on his lap, shaking his head. "Don't be sorry, love, we can talk about this." She curled up into him as he wrapped his arms around her middle, her head now resting on his shoulder.
Both her legs were thrown on one side of Chris' legs. "What do you want to know?"
"It's just—" Her arms tightened around his waist. "I used to date this g-guy and when we broke up he said some very v-vile things to me and it took me years to get rid of my insecurities but what he said to me about m-my laugh— it never left me. I eventually just— forgot how to laugh. I'm so sorry, Chris, you have to go through this because of him—" Chris saw red. Someone told her her laugh was ugly?
How can people even have the nerve to say such things to another being? "He told you your laugh was ugly?" Chris asked quietly, letting out a growl when Y/N nodded. "How fucking dare he?! Tell me his address, I'm gonna go over right now, punch him in his stupid fucking face and maybe kick him a couple times in the balls, then we'll see whose cry is ugly, fuckin' asshole!"
Chris' angry outburst made Y/N pull away from him as she cupped his cheek, shaking her head. "Don't do it, it's not worth it. I'll work on it for you, I promise. Besides, I don't even know where he lives," she smiled and Chris let out a chuckle, holding her face in his hands just like she was holding his. Then he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.
"I love you so much, darling, just want you to remember: no one's laugh is ever ugly. Because what is a laugh, anyway? A sound of excitement, a sound someone makes when they're so happy they can't contain it. It is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world, a person being so elated they just have to let the world know that they're super happy. And I bet you have the best one. We're going to work on it together."
Y/N was in tears once again because what he was saying was true. It was a sound of joy, and someone being joyful isn't a bad thing at all. "We will," she agreed and Chris smiled to himself as she cuddled into his arms again.
He couldn't wait to hear her laugh.
"And then he was like that's too hard and you know what I said? You'd know about that, you're the expert on hard things!" Chris wheezed as he finished telling Y/N an incident that had happened that day. Instead of smiling and saying anything, Y/N laughed loudly, surprising both herself and Chris. She covered her mouth with a shocked look on her face as Chris let out a triumphant "yes!", pulling her into his arms.
"I laughed," she whispered, a broad smile showing up on her face, "I actually laughed! Chris, I did it!" She squealed and gave him a big smooch on the lips. He grinned broadly and pulled her in for another short kiss. "And I knew your laugh was going to be the best sound in the world! You mean to say I've been missing out on that for a year?! Man, now I wanna beat up your ex even more badly—"
Y/N chuckled and patted his chest, stopping his rant. "Chris, leave it be. In Elsa's words, the past in the past." He only rolled his eyes and kissed her again. "I love you so much," he whispered and she gave him a tiny smile, snuggling into his chest. "I love you too, you helped me come over an insecurity of mine, how can I ever thank you?" He smirked suggestively at her and she laughed again, shaking her head.
"Christopher Robert Evans, you incorrigible man!"
"I'm just saying!"
"Fine, come here."
a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!
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Parties Can Be Educational!
AN: Made another one!
The Boys Are Back In Town
''I do hope you don't mind, I brought my son!''
The party already in full swing, Asgardians and mortals all around. Some other interesting species sprinkled in as well, great friends of Thor no doubt. Loki wrapped his arm around his son, mussing up his hair. Not much for the wilder side of life but perhaps that would change now that Loki brought him down to Midgard. Earth as they call it here, music and dancing in the streets. Looked like Thor outdid himself, granted he destroyed the last party location.
Narfi reached for his uncle, allowing him to grab a hold of his finger. Though they might not have been raised together, they were still brothers. Good friends, best friends. The many years of keeping council, parties and balls it was only natural for Loki to give Thor the mantle of uncle. Narfi had always referred to Thor as his uncle, used to be small enough to hold. Believe it or not, Loki felt his eyes welling up at the thought. His son was growing up so fast now, reached full maturity. Still not as tall as he was, missed an inch but that wasn't much. Thor laughs.
''Hey big guy!''
Narfi looked around, taking in the wonder of Midgard. The lights, the music and the dancing. Loki hadn't taken his son to parties like these before but he knew his son had always been curious about them, about his uncles absolutely legendary parties. Narfi's mother didn't exactly approve of these parties, ever since she had Narfi years ago she has been such a homebody. Loki loved that about her, being able to come home and see her there. Hopefully she was in bed by now, reading or better, asleep. The woman needed all the rest she can get right now.
''Father said this party is going to be awesome!''
Loki pats his son on the back, the mortals were beginning to stare at them. Curious about the blue giants now roaming about the place, they had brought some company. More the merrier as one would say, Loki couldn't wait to get started. Narfi suddenly waves at the crowd with a smile.
''Off the hooks darling.''
The mortals would love Narfi.
Narfi had spent most of the night keeping company with one person, a man around his age. Brunette, seemed nice. Narfi had been talking animatedly with him all night, he had his newfound companion sitting on a ledge. Making eye contact with them, something very serious was brewing over there. Not that Loki was going to go and interrupt it, what kind of father would he be if he got in the way of something important like his son's potential future. Who knows! Fondness for the small folk might run in the family, Narfi's mother was an Asgardian after all. A small one at that, so precious. Just thinking back on how he met her had Loki feeling some type of way, something warm but not unpleasant. The heat could get so uncomfortable, especially for his kind. He wondered what Y/N was up to, hopefully she was doing alright. Thor chortles, gesturing to Narfi and his new companion. Tonight had been so very fun.
''Never too young for love, right?''
Suppose that's correct, not exactly a boy anymore. Fully grown, now entering adulthood. Loki couldn't be more proud, he'd make a good leader to their people one day. It was Loki's turn first, Narfi's grandfather was on the verge of retiring his crown. Passing the control down to Loki, it was exciting and yet so very exhausting. Stressful, Loki needed to let off some steam. Not only was he about to take up the mantle of king but he was also expecting his second offspring, his first born ready to join the adult world. It was all so very chaotic at the moment, Thor didn't envy him. That was for sure, Loki was curious about that Jane woman however.
''Gods, I can't thank you enough for the invite. It's been quite stuffy at home, taking over my father's duties and whatnot. It's been hectic, Narfi really needed a break from it all too.''
Excavations and explorations of their realm never ended, Loki wanted to capture as much of the south as he could now that the storms were dying down. There was so much opportunity for expansion, the giants would have more space to hunt and build. Ice fishing seemed to be very good out there as well, just to be able to reach water was a miracle. Narfi had done so much to help with the navigations, mapmaker and a brilliant one at that. He had his purpose, the stress of home gets piled up. Loki was going stir crazy, endless errands and meetings. Army training, temple building and bringing the giants together. There was so much to do, this was needed.
''Tonight's been great, I'm happy you could make it.''
Loki was honoured to get an invitation! He's missed some parties in the past.
''Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this!''
They had brought the casket for a few renovations, the landmarks looked great with some silly moustaches. Leave a bit of a reminder of their adventures, Loki and Thor watched the Midgardians join in on the fun. Using the big ice slide the giants had created, great fun. This is a party worth remembering, put it in the history books. No doubt Midgard would remember this occasion, perhaps they'll take up a new tradition. A planet party! Now that Loki thought about it, perhaps he should throw a party back home. Something nice for when the new baby arrives, it would be a good cause for celebration. Loki laughs as he saw a few of them flying, this is what unity looked like. This is exactly what peace should look like, a big party. Everyone getting a long, music, dancing. How wonderful was this? Sure, some might not fully understand or appreciate what was going on here but they could just bite those sour apples. Loki was here to make things interesting, he hadn't gotten drunk in what felt like forever! Not that he was going to allow his son to get too messed up but looking at what his son was up to there was no real need to worry there, he was keeping company with some boy his own age. Talking, getting rather close now that Loki took the time to examine the scene. There was this bubble forming, best not disturb them. Thor lets out a loud laugh as Fandral went flying into the nearby building, Sif clearly did not like whatever he had to say. He chortles, the crowd whoops.
His eyes widened.
Turning around revealed his wife, waddling over to where he and Thor were standing. Why was she here? How was she here and how did she know? Did she know? Someone told her about this right? Loki knew exactly who would rat him out, of course it had to be him. Loki thought Hrogar would've love to come along but no, he was too busy minding the wall and being a big old party pooper as Thor would say. Thor took a step back, that was until Loki gripped the back of his cape to keep him still. He wasn't leaving that easy, Loki put on his best smile. Perhaps she won't notice the commotion behind him if he distracted her, he knew just how much she loved to see him smile. Adored it, that tiny woman. He was however worried about her being out here, especially since she was pregnant and moving about instead of being at home. Nesting where it was warm and safe, what if she was here about the baby? Loki suddenly felt a cloud of dread slowly making it's way over his head, what if she came here to find him?! Was she alright?
''What are you doing here?! Is it the baby?! You're not supposed to be here!''
Loki knelt before her, wanting to pick her up. He laid his hand down, palm up. Y/N folded her arms, clearly cross with him and what was going on. Suppose Loki shouldn't have hoped that she wouldn't notice, nothing ever escapes that woman. Loki gently gestures for her to sit down in his palm, he hated the idea of her standing for too long. No doubt she had to be escorted down to Midgard, travelling can be such a chore. Y/N gave in and sat down, allowing him to lift her up from the ground. He'd protect her with his life, he couldn't let her get hurt. Especially in this state, their second child was almost ready to come out. Y/N growls at him, so very angry.
''What am I doing here? What is going on down here?! Where is Narfi?!''
She looked around the place in search of their son, Loki wasn't exactly sure what to say. Narfi was still probably sat in that corner, talking to that boy like before. Nothing out of the ordinary, no drinking or anything dangerous like that. Loki wouldn't let it get that out of hand, usually.
Loki turns his head, looking right at their son who was currently still deeply lost in that very interesting conversation. Time consuming somehow, how long had he been sitting there? The person sat with him throws his head back and laughs, clearly enjoying Narfi's company. Loki couldn't be more proud, clearly inherited the charm from him. His mother's smile, which no one could ever resist. He points with his free hand, right at Narfi with a nervous smile.
This was all that was going on, he was just sitting there. Talking, hanging out! Like a normal frost giant, Thor was quick to hide his drink underneath his cape. Loki thanked him for that. Y/N let out groan, she was clearly not approving of this. Stressed out? She couldn't be stressed out right now, Loki had to find a way to calm her down. Convince her everything was alright, she got so worried about Narfi. The hormones, she's been very emotional lately. Loki thought it was awfully sweet that she wanted to spend more time together as a family, going on weekly hunts together but they would have to wait until the baby gets here before they venture out on another adventure. Loki stands up to his full height, examining his wife with great worry. She looked healthy enough, she wasn't too distressed but looks could be deceiving.
''I thought this was going to be an educational trip for him, you said it would be!''
So he may have lied about that but how else was he going to get Narfi away from Jotunheim?
''It is! An educational cultural exchange!''
Thank Thor for speaking up, why couldn't the party be educational?! It was a melting pot of cultures meeting together in place, so many space beings mingling in with the Midgardians. Gracing them with their presence, getting to know one another. Friendships were being made. Narfi was learning about so many different things right now, just by looking around! Sampling some of the many wonderful Midgardian treats, the music, dancing! It was kind of educational.
''Yes, he's learning so much about you know- The Earth and the uh- The festivities and the culture here, it's fantastic!''
Loki smiled at his wife, hoping she'd forget all about that background noise. Y/N didn't need all of this extra stress right now, why not just let go? Join in the festivities, he'd love to carry her and show her around. Maybe get some food in her, she needed to keep her energy up. Carrying a frost giant wasn't a joke, she had done so well the first time. Y/N frowns, pointing at Narfi.
''So you call that a cultural exchange?''
Loki turned around only to see his son locking lips with his companion, rather passionately if he might add to that. How did he find the time to do this? They hadn't been here for that long have they? Loki was quick to wave his son over, why couldn't he just have kept it in for a little longer. Just a tiny bit longer, until Loki could convince his mother to go back home and nest. He groans.
Their son flinches, pulling away from the little one sat in his hand. Suppose the icicle didn't fall to far off the cave ceiling. Enough to land intact, both of them seemed to have a fondness for the shorter people. Loki couldn't and wouldn't blame him, they were quite endearing. It was good that his son was making connections but it would've been even greater if he had put it off for just a moment longer. Loki sighs as Narfi bids his companion a quick goodbye before hurrying back over to where Loki and his mother were, Thor was quick to make himself scarce.
''Right, we're going home. Now!''
Loki pouts, so soon? Wasn't she a little bit curious? She hasn't seen Midgard before, why not stay? Have a bite to eat, enjoy the music, maybe get to know Narfi's little friend? Narfi's blue cheeks darkened as he stared down at his feet, not ready to engage Loki's questions. He'd fish it out of him eventually, his son already finding himself a companion? How exciting!
''But darling, I-''
Before he could finish, his wife reached up and grabbed a fistful of his ear. Her nails digging into his earlobe, Loki hissed. Sharp talon like fingernails, she made her point. No staying, he had to gather the ice men and skedaddle.
''Okay! We're going!''
Thor was quick to wave over, bidding him a silent goodbye as Loki gathered the men to leave. The portal would take them home, Loki needed to get his wife to bed as quickly as possible. He didn't like her being on her feet like this, she always demanded to walk around by herself. Cook and clean, even though she didn't have to. Y/N would chase him out with a ladle if he tried to get her to sit down. Narfi and Loki were more than capable of whipping something up, Y/N reaches her hand out for Narfi. Signalling him to come closer, such a sweet mother. Fire in her heart.
''What's his name sweetheart?''
Narfi felt his mother's hand caress his face, three of them huddled together. Suppose today wasn't completely ruined, Loki chuckled.
Powerful name for someone so small, Loki liked him already. Maybe he could sneak Narfi back out later to see this Griffin, love needs space to grow and it won't grow if they kept staring. It won't make it grow any faster, Y/N smiles.
''He's very handsome.''
Should Loki and Y/N start planning their son's wedding? Never too early to start right?
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Lion And The Mouse (m)
This fic is written for the golden royal event hosted by BtsGoldNet to celebrate our kings Namjoon’s and Jungkook’s birthdays that are both in September! I hope you'll enjoy my royal au!
Pairing – Prince/(King)! Namjoon x Princess/(Queen)! Reader
Genre – E2L, Fluff, Angst, Royal AU, Fantasy, Star Crossed Lovers
Summary – [You just follow your father’s orders at first, visiting the handsome prince becomes a routine in your everyday life. In the end, you help him escape but you never thought that he has been taken a liking to you too and that he’s adamant to save you from the claws of his enemy.]
Warnings – imprisonment, abduction, mention of malnourishment, brief mention of violence and war, smut, oral (f), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, dry humping
Word Count – (3,2k)
The prison is eerily quiet as you walk by empty cells. The underground walls trap the wet cold inside, resulting in a shiver going straight down your spine. Either from the frostbite that claws its way up to your body dressed in many layers of fabric or the way your heels echo in your head that creates this feeling like cotton balls are stuffed inside your ears and a cold hand is wrapped around your slim throat.
The prison guards are in rotation tonight but neither of them is here to shadow your steps through the fire lit concrete corridor. The natural light doesn’t reach this part of the cells as you venture deeper, the only object that aids your vision is the oil lamps that are placed on a hook hammered into the mold covered brick walls.
Here he is. The lion prince. Treated like a caged animal.
Your steps come to a halt at the end, you didn’t realise you were holding your breath until your lungs burned for air.
You can’t see his full face as he glares at his feet but those mud brown highlights in his hair are unmistakable proof that he’s the son of the lion king. You never met someone who came from that kingdom. Your mother said that if you ever meet one they’ll not hesitate to pierce your heart through with a sword embroidered with their proud animal.
Folklore talks about the great power behind those high walls. They talk about the king’s ruthless iron fist who guided their people to victory countless times in war. That they’re deserving of their name to carry the title of the animal at the top of the food chain and you all just prey.
The prey is now standing in front of the caged lion wearing sheep's clothing. What an interesting turn of events. Namjoon looks up with glowing black eyes chin tilted high up with burning pride just like your favourite historian Taehyung taught in a lesson. They never cower for anyone from fear even when it’s clear he’s at disadvantage now.
He oozes confidence even when he’s tied up and entirely dependent on your merciful nature. Always so filled with pride for their country, their name, their wins. Name anything.
He bared his face to you alongside his perfect teeth he has no fangs or claws that they teach you about in school. Nothing like the monsters portrayed in children's books. No, Namjoon looks like a prince as he should be. The discovery fills you with delight that makes the prisoner frown not understanding your sudden smile even though it's blinding him with its shine. You’re a beautiful young woman, one who Namjoon couldn’t find a counterpart in his country to won over your beauty.
You’re his first visitor since he has been captured five nights ago. He didn’t think such a beautiful woman will be the first to walk this dirty ground to his cell, colour him surprised. He regards you with interest, his eyes scan your delicate features with a predatory glint. He half excepts you to shrink away like the mouse you are but you stand your ground.
Without any water or food, he’s been slipping between consciousnesses and a lethargic state of sleepiness without the actual promise of peaceful slumber. The dark circles under his eyes let you know that he’s been awake for at least four of those days that the soldiers dragged him down here and chained him up.
You prepared him food and water just like your father asked of you but seeing his appealing physical features you’re more enthusiastic at the prospect of visiting him after tonight.
”You’re the mouse king’s daughter, aren’t you?” You cringe at his tone, the clear despise in his voice and the sharp glare he shoots you makes his face appear uglier than it should be.
”And you’re the lion prince.” You offer him a nod for a brief second before you busy your hands with the rusty set of keys. It’s a feast to find the right one that fits the lock but you eventually get the iron bars to slide right open. His jaw immediately flexes as if he’s about to bite a chunk out of you if you dare come any closer, you see the muscles in his entire body go rigid as you step closer and closer to where he’s chained to the walls. He has both his hands and legs in heavy cuffs. He can’t stand up because his binds are too short, he can’t do anything as you squat down to be face to face. He’s even more beautiful up close.
”Are you thirsty? Hungry?” He’s been so caught up with analysing your features and glaring that he didn’t sense the smell of food fill the space of his cell instead of the usual sweat and blood until you stated your question towards him. Being prideful he refuses even though the loud growl of his stomach is a clear sign that he’s famished after five days. You chuckle when you hear it. Such a heartwarming sound shouldn’t be able to come out of his enemy’s throat he thinks. Namjoon looks away a little bashfully. You’re not meek as a mouse as you just laughed at him. You smell like expensive bathing oil and oranges.
”Take a sip it will soothe the ache in your throat.” You touch the glass to his plush lips but he refuses to drink. He tries to surprise you with a sudden nudge with his nose on the cup hoping that it will slip from your hands and shatter while hitting the ground maybe if he’s lucky he can snatch a glass piece as a weapon.
Unfortunate for him you can catch it before it could reach the floor level as half of its content lands on your skirt you match up to his glare as you see the wet patch form on the expensive fabric.
”Drink.” You’re more forceful the second time. The glass clinks against his front teeth and he snarls back.
”You first.” He tells you gruffly. Rolling your eyes you take a big sip leaving only a quarter of water in the cup that’s undoubtedly not enough to quench his thirst. It’s not your problem though it wasn’t you who spilt it all over your dress skirt.
This time when you offer him the water he gulps it down hungrily. The prince whines when it’s gone but his thirst isn’t.
”You’ll probably refuse the food if I offer it but it would be a waste to throw it to the dogs. Our chef makes very excellent meals if I can say so myself.” You beam when Namjoon tilts his head in confusion. You didn’t even try to offer the plate’s content this time as you sat down on your ruined skirt in front of the prince and began eating.
You should be a fox since you tricked him so easily. By the time he realises his downfall, he already let out a low groan. His mouth waters as you eat the food with gusto.
”Give it to me.” He growls, the chains move loudly as he tries to get his hands free.
You contemplate if you should get him to tell you ’please’ and tease him a little more for your sole entertainment but you decide to spare him the humiliation this time. You hold up a spoonful of the mashed potatoes and place a piece of pork on top. The prince chews angrily but bites every time you offer him the next portion. Glaring like he hates the taste but licks his lips when it’s gone. What a sight. The lion is eating out of the hands of a mouse.
”You know why I’m here right?” It’s you who breaks the silence first. Namjoon only glares back with more malice but it’s all the validation you need that your father told him the conditions he set in order to regain some of his freedom. He needs to marry you and he’ll rather rot here forever than parade around your kingdom with a leash attached to his neck by you.
You visit him under the starry sky as a witness. With a hood over your head, you bow to the gate guards and slip through the heavy doors. This time you prepared a bathing bowl with warm water. You only hold onto the key to his cell so it slides into the lock with ease.
Your father doesn’t know about your constant visits that you make out of your own free will. He only orders you once a week to give him food and a glass of water so you have to stop eating halfway through your lunch to have something for him to eat. Namjoon is unaware that he’s eating your food or that you’re here without anyone knowing. He would choose to not believe you anyway so you keep the words locked in your heart. It’s a scary concept but you grew a soft spot for the price in your heart.
”Missed me?” Your angelic smile catches him off guard, if he had a tail it would be wagging, the tips of his ears turn to a shade darker. You think it’s just the darkness playing tricks on you. After you dug your way into his heart beyond the cage of his pride and prejudice you saw a kind hearted prince who cares about his people. You learnt that he has three walls guarding his heart and now only one left standing before you can entirely capture the lion in your sentimental cell.
Your prison is different from this one. Instead of cold walls and hunger, you would offer him your warmth and delicious food.
”You’re late.” Trying to hide his face from you he glances to the side watching in his peripheral vision how you crouch before his bind form. You caress his wrists apologetically. The angry red lines alongside his hands where the metal cuffs wore out his skin make you sad.
”It’s because I prepared this.” You place the bowl down next to you. Coming closer as you fold your calves behind you between his legs to comfortably reach his face.
”I couldn’t get a towel because the head maid almost caught me but I have a handkerchief.” You get said item out of your hidden pocket with a beaming smile, proud that you were able to get away with it.
”Wait. Isn’t this your royal handkerchief? I heard your people give it as a promise to…”
”It’s a courting gift yes but I can always make a new one. Don’t worry about it, my prince.” You smile and dip it into the water tainting the royal material. You start with his face, you carefully follow the lines of his jawline first then wash the dirt out before you clean his cheeks and nose. You’re so gentle Namjoon can hardly feel the warm cloth glide over his skin. The water smells nice, close to your natural scent that makes him think you use the same one when you bathe in your room.
”Why do you visit me daily, princess?” You like it better when all the lines on his face are smoothed out but you keep your thoughts to yourself as you disregard his narrowed eyes on you.
”You know why.” You simply state. Namjoon knew you will say something like that, he surprises you with his next words so that the cloth slips from your fingers and lands inside the basin with a big splash.
”Your father only orders you to bring me food once every week but you feed me every day.”
He knows it’s true when he sees your eyes widen in surprise. He couldn’t believe his ears as he overheard two guards talk about you the first time, they were talking about absurd things.
You look away and get to work again in silence. You drag the handkerchief over his collarbones that peeks out of his loose shirt, you follow your motions with your eyes as you map out his neck see as his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps.
”I’ll help you escape. You have to promise to never come back. If my father sees you he’ll definitely behead you.”
You caress his clean cheeks, kissing the skin between his brows as a goodbye for the night.
”Why would you help me?” If Namjoon’s hand weren’t bound he would have probably chased after your wrist to curl his long fingers around your delicate skin. It’s a good thing that he can’t because it’s getting harder and harder, day by day to say goodbye.
”I took a liking to you, my prince. I wish you no harm and that means you need to leave this kingdom and return to yours.”
The words burn like acid but you mean every word and comma as you face away from the subject of your late affection. He can never be happy by your side. The moment Namjoon agrees to the marriage from a caged animal he becomes the main attraction of a circus of royals. If he returns under the veil of the darkness and takes over the throne he could find freedom again. It hurts to think about his life after you. He’ll definitely get married and have children it’s his duty to provide a new heir to his kingdom. How sad that a mouse will never be enough for a lion. Natural enemies shouldn’t fall in love. So why does it breaks your heart to free him from his chains? You can’t bear to look at him because you know if you watch him leave, he’ll tear your heart out and take it with him.
The time you spent with him manifests in front of you like it happened yesterday that fate tore you apart when in reality it has been five years since you helped him escape your father’s ambitious games. Tears swell in your eyes even to this day when you remember that heart soaring goodbye. You cherish the kiss on the top of your head in your last memory with him. Bittersweet as you catch yourself smiling in the mirror.
Your father knew it was you the moment the prince fled from your kingdom. The walls talked about your visits to Namjoon’s cell, whispered to the king’s ears about your affection. His rage chilled you to the bones.
You were punished accordingly, worse than death as he sent you to an unknown country to be wed to a notoriously cruel prince from the tiger kingdom.
A year after your arrival news spread that the lion king passed away after leading his men to victory over the elephant kingdom. You know very well what that meant. Kim Namjoon became the new lion king but you weren’t his queen.
Sometimes you prayed for his good health other times you prayed for something more selfish. Asked the god above the skies to give him back to you even if he was never truly yours.
Finding out that his men invaded the castle. Struck just as the clock ticked midnight and took over the tiger kingdom came as a shock when soldiers closed in on your chambers. You were confused, scared even though they tried to reassure you the lion king ordered them to keep you safe until everything settles down, after that he’ll come to see you.
Your heart is beating out of your chest like a wild animal as you take in the room the servants guided you into.
The second time when your eyes befall on the sturdy double doors, the prince himself passes through. No, the king. The lion king is standing right in front of you in all his glory.
”Did you miss me?” The smile painted on his features are soft as he regards your form after being deprived of it for five full years. There wasn’t a time spent alone in his chambers plotting and aching when he didn’t think of you. He’s been waiting for this moment since you set him free. Gave him a chance to find his way back to you.
”Terribly.” You smile into the kiss, it’s chaste and more teeth than tongue as you can’t keep your lips from stretching into a relieved smile to finally be inside his arms.
It should be wrong. Kissing the man who killed your husband who invaded the country just to hold you.
You should be terrified crying and trashing around but you do none of that because your husband wasn’t the man you loved, he never treated you as his queen.
You feel no remorse for that man who caused you bruises on your sacred wedding night and cared so little for your well being.
”I don’t want to leave your side ever again.” You sigh as Namjoon’s lips descend lower, kissing more of your heavenly skin giving equal attention to your jaw and neck as he nips and licks.
Namjoon takes in the changes that you overwent during the time of your separation, ready to worship every inch of your delicious skin if you let him. He’s gentle as the first wind on a spring day, holds you close to his body with delicate fingers.
”I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He kisses his promise into your plump lips.
No one dares to disturb you two as Namjoon places you above the pillows tugging on your nightgown to unwrap you like the greatest present that you are. His birthday was this month after all.
You’re moaning underneath his attentive fingers, two of them slipping right between your legs to caress your soaked folds.
Namjoon’s heavy cock is rubbing one out on your thigh while you’re bathing in the ecstasy that you’ve never felt before. The king takes his rightful place, face close to the treasure he’s been seeking on lonely nights only reaching it within his colourful imagination prior to this very moment.
To get a taste he carefully parts your walls with his finger as his lips wrap around the sensitive pearl on the top of your mound. Your back arches when Namjoon pushes the first finger inside your snug walls more of your essence spilling from your gaping hole that the king happily feasts upon, drinking you in until his chin is dripping with your sweetness. Your fingers curl around the dark hair and pull.
The pleasure is almost unbearable as you pant like you run a mile in a minute. Namjoon introduces a second digit that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, twisting and curling the long fingers to get your tight walls ready to accept his large length.
Soon you’re moaning and crying until the overwhelming pressure of your approaching orgasm breaks the dam inside you, spilling everything into the king’s mouth and he laps up everything.
You watch him with droopy eyes that Namjoon takes off his dress shirt and silk pants, revealing his body parts to you one by one until he’s left as bare as you are under him.
He’s slipping inside you with ease his motions are fluid and careful as he buries his throbbing length to the hilt. Letting you adjust to the feeling of him filling you up his gaze full of love.
You’re his first, he never let anyone touch him before because he knew that no one will satisfy him as well as you can. He comes fast and with a groan that sounds like your name is spoken into the night. Spilling his seed inside with a promise that he’ll never have to leave you again.
After all, he’s your happily ever after.
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There were quite a few things Wild wanted to do this weekend. Like maybe sleep in for a bit, maybe cooking a special breakfast. They’d even been planning on visiting little Zelly, a promise that her mother was sure to scold them for not keeping.
Instead, they were rudely awoken by a rough collision with the dirt, and they quickly realized they weren’t in their soft waterbed in Zora’s Domain anymore. Blearily blinking their eyes open, Wild feels like they’ve been hit by Ruta’s Cryonis again.
They’re in the castle courtyard of Warriors’ time. Which, as they seem to recall, is tens of thousands of years removed from their own era.
“Oh great,” Wild scowls as the golden light fades behind them. Ten years since their tearful goodbyes with their fellow heroes, and all of a sudden, Hylia’s playing games again.
Wild pushes themself off the ground, dusting whatever they can off with their one arm. It’s only then, when several halberds are pointed right at their face, that they realize they have an audience.
“Stop right there!” one of the soldiers, presumably a higher ranking officer, shouts. “Put your hands in the air!”
Wild frowns, but some part of their mind still remembers Warriors’ lectures to respect authority in his era. It was always so annoying, especially since he was the only one who cared so much about how they were perceived by the guards, but the anger in his eyes after Wild’s third infraction for trespassing (it’s not like those people were USING their roofs!) was enough to convince them to behave. So, after a moment of hesitation, they raise their arm above their head.
“Both hands!” The guard juts his halberd closer to Wild’s face.
“This is all I’ve got, man.”
A lower ranking guard lifts the side of Wild’s poncho. “They’re telling the truth, sir,” they announce, gesturing to their missing right arm.
“W-well!” the officer stammers, and Wild can’t help but smirk. “Take them to a cell! Trespassing on castle grounds is no laughing matter!”
Wild rolls their eyes as one of the soldiers forcefully grabs their left arm. “You’re gonna regret this, you know.”
“Quiet you!” the senior officer snaps at them. “I’ll have no disrespect from magicians who infiltrate our defenses against the crown!”
“Fine,” Wild scoffs. “Hey, while you’re processing my intake paperwork or whatever, could you tell my brother where I am? He’ll be sooooo worried about me.”
The senior officer’s eye twitches. One of the lower ranking guards whispers, “It is protocol to inform citizens of incarcerated family members.”
“Alright! Alright!” the senior officer throws his hands up in frustration. “Just tell me and get out of here!”
“He’s the hero, Link. Ever heard of him?” Wild forces down a laugh as the officer’s face turns red. “Tell him Wild’s in prison again, and it’s not their fault this time!”
“Take them away!” the senior officer points the guard holding them towards the dungeon. “Now!”
And even though they’re being dragged into the dreaded dungeons of Hyrule Caslte, Wild can’t help but laugh the entire time.
- - -
“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Wild lightly scratches at the rusty bars of their jail cell. They’re sitting on the nasty dungeon floor, legs crossed. “Seriously, it’s not too late to let me go.”
The guard stationed outside their cell sighs. “I’m not in charge of that.”
Wild huffs, pouting to themself. A little recognition wouldn’t hurt, would it? They were here all the time a decade ago! And even then, everyone knew they were with Wars. These kinds of theatrics and blunders are just rude!
“So, is Commander Link really your brother?”
Wild’s ear twitches when the guard speaks up. “Commander, huh? Wars got a promotion?”
“Uh, I-” the guard stammers. “I don’t-”
“Yeah, he’s pretty much my brother,” Wild answers. “It’s been a bit since I was in town, though.”
The shout rings through the dungeons, a shrill entitlement that Wild would know anywhere.
Wild clicks their tongue. “That’d be him,” they point their thumb towards the entrance to the dungeon. “You know, it’s been nice hanging out with you.”
“Don’t make it sound like I’m going to die.”
“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Wild promises, standing up and gripping onto one of the bars just as Warriors rounds the corner, flanked by the senior officer, who now looks flustered.
And that’s Wild’s confirmation that it’s been some time for their brother, as well. He’s sporting some well-manicured stubble, obviously, because everything about Wars is well-manicured. His hair is longer, tied back in a ponytail that reminds Wild of themself. Of course, they didn’t have a chance to do their hair before landing in the past, so it’s all loose and tangled.
“Wild?!” Warriors shouts, mostly in shock. “You’re really here?!”
“Oh thank goodness!” Wild feels like they could cry. “Wars get me out of here!”
“What are you doing here?” Wars ruffles their hair through the bars, a warm smile on both of their faces. “I thought we agreed, no more trespassing.”
“It’s not my fault, it was the portals!” Wild explains quickly. “They wouldn’t listen to me. I just woke up here!”
Hearing Wild’s poor circumstances, Wars snaps back towards the senior officer. “You ARRESTED my brother!”
“Your one-armed brother!” Wild pipes up from behind him.
“My ONE-ARMED- wait,” Warriors turns back to Wild, his tone suddenly soft as he looks at them with concern. “You lost your arm?”
Wild stares at Warriors blankly. “Don’t tell Twilight.”
“I’m not-!” Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How would I even tell him?”
Wild simply shrugs.
“We’re talking about this later,” Warriors asserts, before turning to address the officer once again. His glare is cold, and his fury is burning. “I can’t BELIEVE that you saw a clearly disoriented individual in your courtyard and decided to ARREST THEM, of all things! Who is your superior, I’ll have to inform him-!”
Wild leans over to the guard, who’s standing frozen with fear next to the cell. “I told you,” they whisper.
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Arrow write the mickey spotting ian and kev fic challenge!
Had to do this while it was still topical lol, so here goes.
The first time was an accident. Well, sort of.
"Ian can help with that," Mickey offered, watching Kev struggle to shift kegs and pour drinks at the same time.
"Thanks man," Kev grunted, hoisting another keg. He waddled with it along the length of the bar, body hidden behind the counter, and set it down with a heavy thunk.
"Not easy though," he added as he straightened. "Don't wanna make him strain somethin' before your wedding."
He waggled his eyebrows at Mickey, tongue stuck out, and Mickey rolled his eyes.
He knew exactly what would come next.
"You think I can't lift a keg?" Ian asked from the stool next him. His voice almost broke on the last word with sheer disbelief. "I'm not some skinny kid anymore, Kev, I just got out of prison for fuck's sake!"
"Cause there were plenty of kegs there to lift," Mickey muttered into his beer, and almost sent it splashing over the old stained countertop when Ian shoved his shoulder too hard.
"Just point me where you need me," Ian told Kev, puffing out his chest.
Kev eyed Ian, then Mickey, then Ian again. But ultimately, he shrugged, and tapped the top of the keg he had just put down.
"Uh, this guy here needs to go out back," he said. "Brought in the wrong one."
"On it," Ian said, and made his way to it. He bent over at the waist, his hands reaching for the handles, ass stuck out in his too-tight jeans.
Mickey tilted his head, and sipped his drink, admiring the view.
"Whoa, whoa, not like that!" Kev said from behind the bar, arms out. "You're gonna hurt yourself, man."
"Then how," Ian forced out between gritted teeth, still leaning over, "would you suggest I do this?"
Kev came around, whacked Ian in the back until he let go and straightened with a huff. Then he took up position at another keg alongside the first.
"Lift with your legs, kid," he said, and dropped into a half squat right in front of Mickey's face.
"Like this?" Ian relented, assuming position next to Kev, broad back stretched and straight over bent legs and strong thighs.
Kev and Ian each hoisted their kegs, beginning their awkward walk away toward the back, and Mickey leaned so far back on his stool he almost fell off.
Well, he thought as he downed the last of his drink, eyes following two ridiculously built sets of shoulders strain their way across the room.
He could get used to seeing that.
The second time, it was definitely on purpose. He had talked Ian into trying out KevFit after his own misadventure--he was not eager to keep working out on his own, but Ian kept wanting to do new shit together.
They were only one round in at the keg lift station, Ian already grunting and heaving and sweaty next to him, when Kev came by.
"Good form, Ian," he congratulated, clapping a hand on his shoulder hard enough to make him drop the half-filled keg with a clatter. "Way better than last time."
"Gee, thanks," Ian answered dryly, wiping his forehead with the hem of his thin workout tank, and Mickey had an epiphany.
"Hey, Kev," he said slowly, like the idea was just occurring to him, "You got all this equipment rigged up, but how are you on basics?"
Kev's brow furrowed, his muscled arms going slack at his sides.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean like, pushups and jogging and shit," Mickey answered. "You know, the kind of stuff they do in the military."
He let his eyes widen, and turned them on Ian.
"Oh wait," he said, "that's kinda your thing, ain't it?"
Ian shrugged, looking confused.
"Uh, I guess?"
"Why don't you show Kev one of your old workouts?" Mickey suggested innocently. "He could add some things to the whole KevFit routine, maybe bring in more clients."
Kev perked up at that.
"Yeah, why not?" he said. "C'mon Ian, show me what you've got."
Five minutes later, Mickey was leaning against the "spring water" station, sipping from the flask he had snuck in from next door, watching two ridiculously tall, ridiculously strong fuckers take up half the open floor space doing increasingly impressive pushups. Right then, Ian had one arm behind his sweat-slicked back, Kev mirroring his form, and Mickey's eyes followed the rise and fall of their bodies with total focus.
"Excuse me," a wimpy, hipster-sounding dude said hesitantly from behind him, " but do you know when they're bringing out more waters?"
Mickey didn't even bother to look.
"Get lost," he answered, waving a hand in the guy's general direction. "Go drink outa the bathroom sink like a normal fucking person and let me watch my show."
The third time, he was pretty sure Ian was catching on.
Not that he cared, honestly--the view was fucking worth it.
"You call that a bench press?" He goaded his husband from behind the bench. "Kev's kickin' your ass, man, that's just embarassing."
Ian glowered, breath hissing out between his teeth as he pushed up again.
"I'm pretty much pressing you right now," he gritted out, "so I'm feeling pretty good about it, actually."
Mickey hid his grin behind a hand, feigning disinterest even as his eyes followed Ian's bulging arms up and down, lingering on the tight plane of his chest.
"Well he's pressing like two of me," Mickey countered, letting his eyes wander, "so you might wanna step it up, tough guy."
Sure enough, Kev's current weights were at least half again what Ian had, and he was doing an admirable job of lifting them considering that his gigantic self was too big for the bench. Mickey hadn't considered that when he invited Kev to check out the gym at their new place; it was designed for recreational exercise, not fucking seven foot tall body builders. The man's legs stretched out awkwardly off the bottom of the bench, knees bent but stuck up far too high for proper form. His broad shoulders dwarfed the other end, making it look like his upper body was just suspended there.
Mickey licked his lips, watching the shift of muscles under Kev's tanned skin--thank the lord the man shared his aversion to sleeves--and almost got chinned when he leaned too far over Ian's station.
The bar slotted into place without his help, Ian sitting up and wiping his face with a hand.
"Why don't you spot him for a while, then," Ian said. "While I go hit the shower."
He stood, making his way to the door, and Mickey paused, torn.
"Or I could give you a practical demonstration of my ability to lift you," Ian added over his shoulder, and Mickey was making his excuses to their guest and chasing after him before Kev could even finish another rep.
Ian never brought it up, after that, but Mickey still decided to cool it, just a little. Ian had seemed a little jealous, at the gym, although you'd never have known it by the things he said later--bet you like it when people look like they can throw you around, Mick--and Mickey did not need to throw a wrench into their marriage just for a little extra eye candy.
But then they were all at the pool together, the Gallaghers plus Mickey, plus Tami, plus Kev and Vee, and he really couldn't help it.
"Damn our men are hot," Tami had commented, sitting in a white plastic chair next to Mickey.
Mickey leaned back with a grin, taking a swig of lukewarm beer, and said, "You think that's hot?" nodding to where Ian and Lip were splashing each other over Franny's head in the shallow end.
"Watch this," he finished, and cupped a hand over his mouth to help his voice carry.
"Hey Ian," he shouted. "Bet Kev could beat you in a race."
"Hell yeah!" Kev called back from where he was manning the grill. "Name the time, man!"
Mickey could see Ian roll his eyes, and worried for the briefest of moments that his husband was done humoring him. But after a brief, hushed word with his brother, Ian was swimming to the side of the pool nearest Kev, saying "right now, backstroke, three laps," and Mickey was falling in love all over again.
"You do this a lot?" Tami asked, amused, as Kev stripped off his shirt and jumped in to take his place at the wall of the pool.
Mickey waited until they were off, arms wheeling wildly through the water and sending the sparkling spray onto sculpted, heaving chests, to answer.
"Define a lot," he said, not looking away from the spectacle as Ian and Kev hit the wall and turned, their swimsuits flashing through the water.
"Got it," she said, then, "thanks for sharing the wealth."
The race finished, Ian and Kev lifting themselves out of the pool, water running down their bodies as they clasped hands and went in for a shoulder-slapping bro hug. Ian looked back to where Mickey sat, and smirked.
"No problem," Mickey murmured, watching closely.
Ian leaned up to say something into Kev's ear, and Mickey squinted, like that would somehow help him hear it.
"Ogling the competition, Milkovich?" Lip's voice came from behind, and Mickey nearly fell out of his chair.
"The fuck are you talkin about?" he demanded, twisting around in his chair to look at Lip's knowing smirk.
"Nothing," Lip answered innocently. "Just noticed you've been watching Kev a lot lately."
"And what's it to you?" he challenged. "Nothing at all," Lip said. "Just an observation." His grin widened. "And a distraction."
Mickey's eyes narrowed.
"A distraction from wha--argh!"
He cut off as he was lifted by two pairs of string arms, familiar ones wrapped under his own and different, strong hands holding his feet. He flailed, barely registering the flash of green eyes and a mostly bald head, before he hit the water with a splash.
By the time he surfaced, snorting chlorinated pool water out of his nose, it was to see two grinning faces looking down at him.
"Thought you might need to cool off after watching us," Ian said with a grin, laughing when Mickey tried to splash water into his face.
"Next time you want a show," Kev added, "just ask, man." He waggled his eyebrows. "I learned a few things when I worked that gay club."
Ian laughed again at Mickey's shocked expression.
"You need to work on your poker face, Mick," he said. "But it's okay, we don't mind."
He winked, then turned to walk away, leaving Mickey floating in the pool. Kev left with him, hips swaying slightly, and Mickey bit his lip and watched them go.
"Really?" Lip asked from the side of the pool, sounding disgusted, and Mickey just shrugged without looking back.
After all, if they didn't mind...
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Not sure if you saw, but Christopher Evans posted a video playing the piano. Can we get something with him being smutty?
Play me like a piano.
Disclaimer: The content which is displayed below holds themes that are considered mature, minors are not to interact, thank you.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader
Summary: You and Steve had been together for a few months now, only coming out officially to the rest of the avengers lately, so when he asked you to move in with him, you had gotten use sleeping next to him, so when you wake up and instead of finding him next to you, you hear the melody of a piano and decide to follow it.
Warning: Fluff - cute couple kinda stuff, smut - oral sex, female receiving (minors dni).
Side note: I don’t write for celebs, but I will write for nomad!steve rogers, bc lord knows that man has many talents!!
You weren’t aware of what the time was, but one thing you knew was that Steve wasn’t next to you like he usually was. He often had sleepless nights due to everything that has happened, you were surprised that he wasn’t at his desk reading a book like he usually did.
Instead, you hear a distant melody, getting out of bed, you follow the sound down the hallway and to the living room. Steve was sat at the piano he had in his dining room, playing a low melody that was soothing in the quiet of night
“Stevie?” Your voice is husky from just having woken up.
He looks up to you and a small smile appears on his lips, he thought you looked adorable wearing nothing but his shirt.
“Come here baby.” He motions with his head. With a yawn leaving your mouth, you walk over to him and sit down next to him.
He continues to play slowly; you watch his hands as they move so gracefully over the keys of the piano.
“Who taught you to play?” You asked softly.
A smile appeared on Steves lips, “Before becoming Captain America, I had a lot of time on my hands and took up lots of hobbies, one of them was playing the piano.”
“And you still remember how to play after all this time?” You asked amazed.
“You don’t forget the that bring you comfort.” He said placing a kiss to your forehead.
“No, you don’t.” You smile at him.
He plays a little more, as you glance out the windows and watch the city. The lights from the building look like stars.
“I wanna learn how to play.” You admit out loud.
“I can teach you… come sit in my lap.” He sits back a bit making space between him and the piano so you can sit comfortably.
When you sit in his lap, you place your hands gently on the keys, not pressing down on them yet. He takes your hand in his and guides your hand over his as he presses the keys. You get the hang of it when he repeats the same melody a few times.
“Give it a try.” He settles his hands on your hips.
You play what he taught you, making a few mistakes, but nonetheless playing a melody.
“That was better than how I did it when I first tried.” He complimented.
“You’re just saying that.” You look over your shoulder as he lays little kisses on your neck.
You had felt him harden beneath moments ago.
“I mean it baby.” He whispered and used his hands on your hips to press you further into his lap.
You let out a little moan at the feeling of him, you had just been intimate with him before bed, but you could never get enough of each other.
“Please.” You whine as he finds your sweet spot.
“Tell me what you want.” He smirks against your neck; you feel his beard against your skin and bite your lip.
“Want you to taste me.”
“Very well then baby.”
His stands the two of you up and lifts you to sit on the piano, you feel the coolness of the piano on the back of your thighs.
“Lay back.” He instructs you as he sits back down and lifts your (his) shirt up. You weren’t wearing any panties, he smirked up at you as you watched him.
“Relax baby.” He chuckles as you watch him.
You lay back again, about to say something when you feel him push your legs apart, and then, his warm tongue is on your clit.
A lewd moan leaves your lips as he flattens his tongue on your clit, tasting your wetness as much as he could. He loved the taste of you.
You felt his fingers priding at your wet pussy lips, spreading them apart as he delved further. Your one hand made its way down to grip his hair, tugging at it gently, he groaned at the feeling causing you to feel the vibration closely.
His beard scrapes against your thigh as his mouth moves from your clit to your pussy lips.
He wets his fingers with your wetness and slowly, you feel two fingers enter you.
“You taste so sweet fuck.” He praises as he feels you tighten around him.
“More.” You beg.
His lips make their way back to your clit as he moves his fingers in and out of you. The pace of his fingers picking up and the seconds ticked by. His free hand makes its way up your body and under your shirt, kneading at your nipples.
“That’s it baby, buck up against my fingers and lips.” He demands as you move your hips forward.
“I’m gonna cum.” You say breathlessly.
“Then cum for me baby, cum!” He commanded as his fingers sped up, the sound of his palm moving against your wet pussy lips filling in the silence that was previously filled with a graceful melody.
In minutes you were coming on his fingers with a load moan of his name.
You were more tired than you were when you woke up. You laid on the piano, waiting for Steve to take you for his own pleasure.
“Get up baby.” He whispered above you.
You looked at him in confusion.
“Aren’t you going to…” You let the sentence stray in the air.
“No baby, I don’t need to. Your pleasure is all that matters, plus its already late and I don’t want you to be more tired than you already are.” He assured you picking you up in his arms as he made his way back to your room.
You kissed his lips, still tasting yourself on him.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You said referring to his erection.
“I can handle it baby, I use to get them all the time before we dated.”
He laughed at the shocked expression on your face.
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Snakes are sexy. Pass it on.
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Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x F!Reader
Summary: You told Laszlo that he can have too much of a good thing. He intends to prove you wrong.
Warnings: Explicit (18+ minors DNI), smut, dom!Laszlo, oral sex (f recieving), praise, so much overstimulation, dacryphilia, descriptions of subspace, aftercare
Notes: this is something that the besties have been waiting for me to finish and i was just like 'lmao me too bitch' but now it's here! do me a favor and roll with it cause it gets intense. long story short, we're all horny for laszlo.
You took a moment to catch your breath, cuddled up to Laszlo’s side. Oftentimes, you’d fall asleep naked against each other but summer was quickly settling in and you fancied yourself a cool bath to fight against the looming heat. You started to wiggle out of his grasp but you stopped and giggled as his left arm tightened around you.
“Come on, Laszlo, I need to clean up,” you chuckled, “You can help if you’d like.” You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, grinning as he gazed down at you.
“I can certainly help clean up the mess we’ve made,” he said with a lazy peruse of your body. You leaned back and laughed.
“Still feeling rather excited, are we?” you joked as you reached back to unwrap his arm from around you. You rolled out of bed, your feet hitting the plush rug, before you leaned back to hover over him. You planted three kisses on his lips and one on his forehead. “You know you can have too much of a good thing, right?”
“Dragam, I would never tire of you,” Laszlo promised. You chuckled one more time as you ghosted a hand over his cheek.
“You and your sweet words,” you said fondly before pulling back entirely and heading into the bathroom. Your back was turned to him so you completely missed the thoughtful, calculating look on his face. If only you knew what he was planning.
The next morning, you were sipping your morning tea while looking at the newspaper, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. You’d rolled out of bed before Laszlo which was uncharacteristic of him. He almost always rose earlier than you. Maybe the institute didn’t need him until later in the day.
You were on the last few gulps of your tea when he walked in. You smiled and greeted him as you clumsily folded the newspaper with one hand. He walked towards you with purpose, causing you to furrow your brow in curiosity.
“Laszlo, what-” He took the newspaper out of your hand and placed it on the table. “Wait, I-” He plucked your teacup from your hand. “Seriously-” His lips were on yours before you could utter another word. His hands were steady on your waist and already he began to press his body to fit yours.
As his mouth moved down to kiss at the underside of your jaw, you let out a breathless laugh and asked, “What exactly has you accosting me so early?”
“I cannot simply show you how much I love you?” Laszlo grumbled into your skin. You leaned back, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye. Your easy grin was still apparent but there was an undercurrent of concern.
“You’re not normally so forward. You also got out of bed later than me. Is everything okay?” He grinned at you, not seeming put out by your line of questioning. His left hand stroked up your waist, around the curve of your breast, and up your neck to graze across your cheekbone.
“Everything is wonderful.” He gave you another deep, lingering kiss. His tongue swiped into your mouth and just as you began to reciprocate, he pulled away. You had started to feel yourself tingle with want but Laszlo removed himself from you entirely. He puttered about the kitchen and the den, gathering documents and books to bring to work that day.
You stared after him with a mouth slightly agape before you jolted yourself into moving once more. You finished up your tea and followed him to the front door.
“When will you be home?” you asked as you helped him slide on his coat. It was a rich purple color that you thought looked amazing on him.
“Before dinner. I’ll see you then, my love.” And he was out the door. Just like that. No kiss, no embrace, hardly a goodbye. You bit harshly at your nail before heading to the study, intending to bury your mind and worried thoughts in a book.
The next day and the day after that continued in a similar fashion. Laszlo hardly paid you any gratifying physical attention and when he did, it was hasty and left you wanting. The effects of this routine had escalated dramatically; by the third day, your cunt pulsed with need at the slightest brush of his hand or the gentlest of kisses.
Your need had now driven you to strip down to your chemise and stockings and corner him in the study. You perched on the desk in front of where he sat, your breasts spilling over your neckline, your legs on either side of his lap.
Laszlo looked you up and down with a soft smile. He leaned forwards, his lips ghosting over yours.
“You know you can have too much of a good thing, right?” he asked scarcely above a whisper. You paused, frozen in place, your hands on his shoulders and cool air brushing your wet heat. Laszlo grinned at you in victory.
“Laszlo,” you warned. He said your name in the same warning tone. “Don’t. Please.” Your demand came out as more of a plea. His left hand came up to cup your cheek, the adoration fading from his eyes to be replaced with determination. He grabbed your jaw and examined your wanton expression.
“Let’s go to the bedroom, shall we?” You eagerly followed him, whipping your chemise over your head as soon as you shut the door behind you. You tugged off your stockings and walked hurriedly to where Laszlo was standing beside the bed. As soon as you leaned forwards for a kiss though, he placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you away slightly.
“Is everything okay?” you asked, immediately falling back, your eyes searching his face. He grinned at you and nodded.
“Let me take care of you,” Laszlo said, “I can’t leave you so desperate, can I?” Your core twitched at his words as his hand came up to trace small patterns on your cheekbone. You allowed him to guide you to lay down on top of your extravagant bedspread, your flushed skin sighing at the contact with the cool fabric.
Laszlo, still fully clothed, settled between your open legs and examined you for a moment. Your cheeks heated up as he simply stared. His eyes flicked up to meet yours as he leaned in and licked up your slit, immediately focusing on your clit. The way he laved at you was commanding and intense.
This was unlike him; he usually took his time taking you to pieces with his mouth. He was, however, proving how well he knew your body and just how to get you to come. Your cunt ached for something more substantial but when you started to say something, Laszlo renewed his pace, causing your sentence to break down into a moan.
Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm took you almost by surprise. Gasps and pants were leaving you in short bursts as you carded a hand through Laszlo’s hair, keeping him where he was as your hips pushed up into his face.
You peered down at him curiously as you came down from your high, not quite sure what to do now that everything was over with so fast. You let go of your grip on his hair to stroke over it in placating motions.
“Not that I’m not appreciative but what’s going on? You never let things end so quickly,” you said as you caught your breath. Laszlo looked up at you, his fingers coming up to trace over your soaking slit, gathering the wetness there. Your hips twitched slightly at the feeling.
“We are just getting started, my love.” You let out a breathy chuckle but offered no protests. Laszlo didn’t wait for you to say anything; he simply dove back in with vigor.
“Oh, fuck,” you hissed as his tongue glided over your entrance before pushing on your clit once more. It seemed that every sensation was heightened already. Every pulse of pleasure was edging over into pain. The world around you was beginning to go fuzzy at the corners of your vision.
You reached your second orgasm just as quickly as the first one, getting there almost forcefully. This one sent waves of pleasure through your body that never seemed to end. Your body was writhing involuntarily. You had scarcely fallen over the crest of that orgasm when Laszlo began to build you up to your third one.
“You know you can have too much of a good thing, right?”
God, did you know how true that was now.
“God, please, Laszlo, fuck-” you cried, your hands scrabbling at his hair, the bedding, your own body.
“Come on, my pretty girl, give me another,” he replied as he plunged a finger deep into you. The shout you let out was almost alarming in its volume. It had been the first time that evening that he decided to fuck you with something other than his tongue. You were so wet, however, that he needed no preparation to effortlessly slide inside. Shockwaves traced up and down your body. You knew it was going to take very little effort to get you to a third orgasm.
His tongue expertly circled your swollen clit before he sucked hard. He added another finger and started up at a relentless pace. Your hips were constantly moving; towards, away, you couldn’t tell anymore.
You hurtled into your next orgasm violently, your back arching and bending and arching again. A broken, ragged moan escaped your open mouth. You nearly closed your legs around Laszlo’s head. He withdrew his fingers from you to place a hand on your thigh and keep you open to him.
For a moment, just a moment, he leaned back from you and gazed at his work. You were surely dripping onto the covers. Both your cunt and his face were a wet mess. He didn’t seem satisfied though.
Laszlo dove in once more and caused your cries to become louder and more pitiful. You were very aware that he knew your boundaries well. He knew how far he could push you and when you needed to stop. He would take care of you. He kept at it.
You were practically writhing as he licked a broad stripe up your slit. He plunged his fingers in once more and you cried out. Pure, unbridled electricity shot up and down your body. You had stopped paying attention to the ceiling above long ago and now your fingers were beginning to tingle. Everything had zeroed down to the painful pleasure that Laszlo was giving you.
He drew his head back and you exhaled shakily, looking down at him. He pushed another finger into your cunt, now three fingers deep. While still thrusting his fingers in and out, he shifted so that he was looking you in the eye.
“Do you know how beautiful you look like this?” he asked. He removed his left hand from you to come up and gently cup your cheek. Even that soft touch set your skin ablaze. “Spread open, fucked out, so sensitive.”
His hand trailed back down your naked body, leaving fire in its wake. He traced his thumb so carefully over your clit and your legs involuntarily clamped shut around his arm at the jolt of pleasure. His fingers stopped at your sudden movement. He tsked at you, looking you in your eyes which had long gone glassy.
“Darling, you can open your legs, can’t you?” His words cut through the fog that had fallen over you. You nodded and obeyed, your legs falling open slowly once more. “Sweet girl.”
You whimpered at the pet name before Laszlo slowly began moving again. All that you were capable of letting out were small moans and little cries as you felt your fourth orgasm mounting. It hit you like a freight car as Laszlo carefully traced circles on your clit.
Your legs trembled as you felt tears spring to your eyes, wave after wave of agonizing ecstasy crashing over you. Laszlo was murmuring to you all the while. He told you how good you were being for him and how beautiful you were. All you could do was nod in response, your tongue not wanting to cooperate.
Laszlo withdrew his fingers from you slowly, leaving your hips twitching and your mouth letting out small whines. You realized belatedly that the tears that were welling up had spilled over, tracing hot tracks down your cheeks.
“Open,” Laszlo instructed. You obeyed and he slipped his digits inside your mouth. You tasted yourself, heady and rich, as you cleaned his fingers. He looked at you with an inquisitive hum. “One more for me, darling?”
“I can’t,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. Laszlo leaned down and pressed a kiss to either of your wet cheeks.
“You can and you will,” he said in your ear before biting down gently on it. The sensation was sharp and electrifying to your sensitive skin. You slowly nodded as you tried to push through the fuzziness of your mind. Laszlo knew how much you could take. Laszlo would take care of you.
When he returned to your cunt, a fresh wave of tears spilled over onto your heated cheeks. His tongue was too hot, you were too slick, his fingers were too thick. Everything was too much but somehow you didn’t want him to stop.
You came for a fifth time with almost no effort. Your body twitched as Laszlo’s tongue circled your clit expertly and his fingers pumped in and out. Laszlo crawled up your sore, soft body and his tongue darted out to taste the tears streaming down your cheeks.
“My good girl,” he murmured. You nodded, completely dazed, letting his praise wash over you. Your body felt boneless. Your movements were listless and your mouth couldn’t form proper words. Your skin burned against the bed but your mind was floating on a cloud. You’d never felt so simultaneously relaxed and electrified.
You hadn’t even noticed that Laszlo left until he came back with a wet cloth. He began cleaning up the mess between your legs, causing your thighs to twitch closer to each other again. He shushed you gently and assured you that you were done. You’d been so good, you’d done so well.
Laszlo started to leave again but your hand reached up and tugged at his sleeve. A questioning noise left you instead of any real words. He smiled down at you, his hand reaching up to sweep over your forehead.
“I’m simply going to put this back and undress. I’ll be right back.” You shook your head imploringly, tugging on his sleeve once more. His smile became more amused before he bent down to tug his shoes off.
He clambered into bed with you, helping you move under the covers and pulling you so that you were cradled against his chest. You leaned in close, listening to the steady beating of his heart, and sighed contentedly.
“Sleep now, my love,” Laszlo said as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
“I love you,” you sighed. Laszlo's fingertips traced small circles on your bare skin.
“I love you too. You did so well for me."
"I did, didn't I?" you mumbled with a sleepy grin. He chuckled.
"You did. You really did."
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This Boy Is Not A Toy [Series]
Part 2 ⇄ (Masterlist│Series Masterlist) ⇄ Part 4
Pairing – Mafia Heiress! Reader x Bodyguard! Jungkook (ft. bts)
Genre – Angst, Smut, Fluff, Bodyguard AU, Casino AU, Mafia AU, S2L
Summary – [You’re the problematic heiress of your father’s blooming crime den who’s getting her fifteenth bodyguard this month. Everyone warned Jeongguk that you’re crazy but he’s up for a good challenge.]
Warnings – smut, sexual tension, blowjob, handjob, praise, sub! jungkook, dry humping, teasing, sexual fantasies, mention of masturbation
Word Count – (4.3k)
Taglist: @safi4x, @yzkyzkuniverse, @staerryminimini, @unicornbabylover, @mwitsmejk, @agustdjoon, @jinscharms, @preciouschimine, @taeshuworld, (Interact with this post if you want to be part of my taglist or send me an ask!)
You roll the seasoned chicken around your plate with your fork. The rice feels plain to your tastebuds as you fiddle with your phone, not even your beloved online poker could get your mind to relax and enjoy your late dinner like you intended to. It’s unlike you to be so affected just because of some pervert diplomat but it has been the third incident this month.
It was the first time that someone stood up for you though. Your previous bodyguard didn’t bother to make sure you felt safe and even now when you think back to the death glare Jungkook shot that Chinese businessman throughout the whole deal it makes a tiny smile dance in the corner of your mouth without you knowing.
The house is quiet anyone is either in their room resting as you’re well into the night or out doing something for your father. The staff went home around 10 like always.
Your father is out drinking with an old friend and Jimin as the head of security with other bodyguards are out as well to ensure his safety. Taehyung offered to keep you company sensing your decreased mood but you declined it’s his sister’s fifth birthday party today and you would have felt bad if you hogged him all to yourself on an important date like this.
Jungkook is probably in his room. While you try not to pry into his habits since it would mean that your interest runs deeper than your professional bodyguard and protected relationship you can’t help but notice some things. It’s inevitable as you spend most of your time by his side even if he’s a mere shadow of you during the day while you do your tasks as the future queen of the L/N Dynasty as your father likes to call it.
Normally after you give him the go that he can have the rest of his night for himself he leaves for a few hours to go to the gym. At least you assume he’s going there since he always seems to wear casual clothes and there’s an unmistakable gym bag in his hand and once he’s back he’s covered in sweat and the shower goes off after his door closes behind him. The walls are thin this is how you recognise the pattern of his routine as of late. You’re always in your room when he comes and goes but it doesn’t mean that you’re not attentive.
This time however you’re not between the familiar four walls of your room. You pull out a wine bottle from one of the cabinets and sigh when you see that you’ll need a corkscrew if you want to drink tonight. You search around the kitchen for one but it looks like you won’t be drinking anything without the help of something to open up the bottle.
You hate the idea that you have to disturb Jungkook with something as insignificant as this when you already said you won’t need his services as he doesn’t get time for himself otherwise but you really need that glass of wine. So you find yourself pacing in front of his door contemplating if you should just forget about it and go to sleep.
Screw it. It won’t take long anyway. You patiently wait for him to open the door once you found the courage to knock.
”Are you alright? Do you need something?” You’re stunned into silence when Jungkook appears. He’s taller than you that leaves you face to face with his bare chest.
You take a long step back to get in a comfortable distance and just after you ensured you backed away respectfully that you look up at his face. His hair is dishevelled and damp from his shower, you try not to focus on the fact that he’s standing in front of you with just a towel covering his modesty tightly wrapped around his waist.
”I- I’m sorry! It’s n-not important anyway forget I was even here.” You internally panic as you catch Jungkook’s brows furrow in confusion, you avoid making eye contact with him and are about to make a run for it to the next door that’s yours when he catches your wrist and pulls you back to stand before him.
”What is it? It's surely not nothing if you’re here. Why are you embarrassed?” This is not the right time to admire how sparkly his doe eyes are as he sizes you up with a confused but cute head tilt. You make the mistake of letting your eyes wander lower than his face taking in his firm chest and strong thighs while his skin glistens with the droplets of water from his shower. He was clearly going to get dressed when you carelessly knocked on his door. He probably thought that it’s an emergency this is why he opted for opening the door rather than telling you to wait.
”Y- You’re naked! Of course, I’m embarrassed! Get dressed first it’s nothing important really I just wanted your help for something but forget about it I c- changed my mind.”
You turn your gaze to the side knowing that if you continue to ogle at his perfect body the blush that you’re fighting against to appear on your skin will probably take over.
”Fine. Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He lets go of your wrist to grab the doorknob but doesn’t move for a few minutes to make sure you’ll follow his instructions. Once you nod your head he closes the door most likely to comply with your wishes and put some clothes on.
Jungkook dressed in the first things he could grab from his closet to not make you wait for long he’s done within mere minutes he didn’t even care to comb his hair even though he’s sure it’s all over the place.
”So what do you need my help for?” You avoid looking at him altogether this time that just further deepens the confusion. He’s never seen you so shy before, you’re always so professional and quiet except when you’re with Namjoon.
”It’s stupid. I told you to just forget about it.” Jungkook finds it irritating that you don’t even give him an ounce of your attention. Something possesses him when he hears your stubborn answer. He can’t keep the itch out of his fingers not to put his index under your chin to guide your face to look at him with a simple tilt.
”Y/N. Just tell me.” Your breath hitches when he uses a warning tone. Hearing your name spoken by him shouldn’t make your eyes glaze over with a feeling you rather not put a name to it.
”I wanted to drink some wine-” You start explaining before you cut yourself off mid-sentence. Realising how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud. Jungkook is having none of it though as he grips your chin a little harder to prompt you to finish what you started.
”I can’t open it and I can’t find the fucking bottle opener. I told you it’s stupid, you probably think that I’m an entitled bitch, even more than before, to disturb you for something so insignificant as this.”
You sigh as you let it all out, letting your eyelids flutter closed in the process to avoid looking into his eyes. You can’t move away as Jungkook still has a close grip on your chin to tilt your head upwards.
”Where’s the bottle?” Jungkook’s question, not just only makes your eyes open in an instant but you look at him with wide eyes.
He completely ignores the last part of your sentence since he doesn’t want to lie to your face and say that his initial opinion of you was anything different but also doesn’t want you to think that he still thinks that way. He knows that you’re still that crazy chick who bet your previous bodyguards body parts but he also knows that you didn’t do anything crazy since he become your protector.
He learnt to respect you and you did the same. In the beginning, Jungkook was just as an entitled jerk as you were a crazy chick.
”In the kitchen.” You answer, still stunned that he didn’t try to mock you in any way.
”Lead the way petal.” You desperately try to keep your reactions at bay at the sudden nickname. Jungkook never addressed you as anything else but Miss Y/N before.
Maybe it’s the late night or the lack of sleep since he was awake memorising the casino’s layout for next week’s event that he let this little slip up. Things between you were better than before, it was still professional but the silence was not awkward or unnerving as before.
If Jungkook can be honest with himself he would say that he even liked being in your close proximity. He liked watching you play online poker on your phone when you were bored or waiting, grinning with each win or see you fool around with Jimin and playing pool in the game room. He liked watching you work out as well.
Seeing the sweat glisten on your skin as your chest heaved due to the strain in your lungs after an intense session with Taehyung. It took a lot of self control on his part to stop his body from improperly reacting to you.
He would never tell anyone but he rubbed a few out in his bathroom panting your name quietly knowing how thin the walls are but on days when he felt a little bold he would let a few moans slip with the intent that you’re listening. He imagined you in different positions each one more compromising than the previous one. What he doesn’t know is that you fantasised about him too.
Why wouldn’t you? He’s breathtakingly handsome and caring. He made you soak your underwear countless times when he showed off his strength or opened the door for you.
You like to be in charge but you truly wouldn’t mind if he wanted to bend you over the counter at this moment in your kitchen all the while anyone could just walk by and catch you.
Your thoughts turned more innocent as you watched Jungkook use a lighter to push the cork out of the bottle. He explained that the heat creates pressure building up in the bottle that pushes the stopple out. He even went as far as to pour you a glass.
When you offered him another glass so he can join you you wholeheartedly thought that he’ll draw the line yet again.
Politely say no and go back upstairs into his room but he surprises you with a nod. He took a seat next to you a lot closer than he normally would and started to sip on his wine while a show went on on the tv before you. It felt oddly domestic to sit with him and watch some tv, something that you haven’t done in a while.
It was an old comedy that got you immersed as soon as you could properly focus on the plot and not dwell on the warm body pressed to your side. You’re unable to ignore how your thighs are firmly pressed against each other, the couch is big enough to fit four people at least. He really doesn’t have to sit this close to you but you’re not complaining at all. Your heart flutters when Jungkook drapes the comforter that was folded on a nearby chair around your shoulders.
The bottle is on the glass table in front of you completely empty. After the first one Jungkook opened up another bottle of the same red wine and by the end of it, you could feel how the liquid warmed up your cheeks. You’re a bit tipsy but nothing you can’t handle. Jungkook seems to be in the same state since he doesn’t realise how his hand landed on your naked thigh under the warm blanket.
You’re only in your nightshirt and some cotton panties as originally you planned to go to sleep as soon as you ate dinner. It’s been a long time ago that you had sex and the wine circulating in your system made you hornier it didn’t help either that Jungkook’s thumb started to draw on your skin. It looked like he’s focused on the show but secretly he was looking for any sign of discomfort. When he heard the hitch in your breath he dares to slip closer to the edge of your panties line.
The front door suddenly opened and both you and Jungkook jumped on the couch. He removed his hand from under your blanket like your skin burnt him. Jimin and your father came into view as the head of security guided your drunk father into the estate while the old man leaned his whole weight on his employee.
You stand up immediately to get a closer look, everything seems fine as you look him over for injuries but when you can only see the deep crimson cheeks and the strong smell of alcohol on your father’s breath you heave a sigh of relief.
Jimin looks between you and Jungkook. His eyes next land on the two finished bottles of wine and hears the tv going in the distance that lets him know what you two were doing before they arrived. He arched an eyebrow when you were still inspecting your father missing Jimin and Jungkook’s silent interaction entirely.
”I’ll get him to bed. Do you mind If I join you two later? We can watch a movie.”
You nod your head without looking up from your father as he blabbers on and on about that he had a good time catching up with his friend.
You smile and listen before Jimin grips your father’s waist and tugs him in the direction of the stairs. You say your goodnight and kiss his cheek that puts a rare smile on your father’s face. It’s been a while since you saw him so carefree. He’s always a lot chattier when he had a drink or two.
”Do you have popcorn?” Jungkook turns to you once Jimin and your dad go up.
He tries to not show his frustration about getting interrupted. He really wanted to touch you and he was sure you would have let him if the front door didn’t open that moment when he was about to reach your clothed core.
You’re tipsy and still turned on but you push it to the side as you rummage through the cabinets searching for anything to munch on while you three watch a movie, now that Jimin will join you there’s no way you two could continue where you left off.
Maybe it’s for the best, you don’t want things to get awkward between you and Jungkook once this night ends. Jimin probably sensed that something was going on and decided to watch you two so you don’t do anything you’ll regret later.
You pull your legs up this time when you curl under the blanket sitting between Jimin and Jungkook the popcorn is in your hands so the two boys can reach it as well.
Halfway through the movie, the slight buzz in your head disappears sobering up entirely.
Unfortunately, the heat Jungkook ignited in you with his touch didn’t disappear along with it. Sober, tipsy or drunk you want him to touch you. It felt like the movie will never come to end whilst all you wanted to do is go to your room and shove your hands down your underwear. You broke up with your boyfriend two years ago and no one touch you since. You’re always busy so you never felt the need before to have someone by your side for a very long time. Until now.
”Let’s finish this another time. I’m tired and I’ll have to wake up early tomorrow.” You tell the half-lie to Jimin as in fact you need to wake up early but you’re not feeling tired at all.
You just want this spontaneous movie night to be over so you can be alone with Jungkook and see if he’s still up for touching you or even better, letting you touch him.
Jimin’s room is at the other end of the estate far away from your room. No one really stays at this wing just you and your father but his room is far enough not to worry about him.
Not that you otherwise have to, considering how drunk he is, the old man is probably out like a light until tomorrow morning.
To your relief, Jimin doesn’t seem to catch onto your plan or ignores it knowing that you’re stubborn enough. It doesn’t matter which one is it though once he’s finally out of sight.
The tv is turned off, the living room is enveloped in comforting silence, you stall pretending to straighten up the room, waiting. Collecting the popcorn on the couch that had fallen out of the bowl.
You’re bent over the armrest as you pick them up one by one. Intentionally letting your nightshirt ride up on your thigh revealing your black panties for Jungkook to see as he watches you clean up.
”Tell me. Are you doing this on purpose? Do you feel this? This is what you do to me.”
Jungkook is right behind you when you hear his raspy voice finally giving in. Both hands planted on your waist to guide your hips back to meet with his front, rubbing his erection onto your ass shamelessly. You bite your lip to stifle a moan you’re still inside the living room. If you get caught you’ll have to stop and you don’t want to stop. You don’t know how far Jimin is as well, you need to be careful no matter how hard it is to pull away.
”Bedroom. We can’t get caught Jungkook.” You whisper the words into his mouth. It’s the closest the two of you got to a kiss but not quite.
”Yours or mine?” His pupils are blown out when you find his gaze. You’re caught off guard when he rolls his hips right into your core not waiting for your answer. You can’t stop the moan before it’s too late.
”Mine.” You tell him. Even when he knows the meaning behind your words his mind wanders to a different kind of meaning that makes his skin crawl pleasantly.
You need to get into your room before this escalates. You let him hold your hand tightly as he pulls you behind him up the stairs and into your bedroom seemingly on the same page as you. It’s arousing to see the otherwise patient man lose it to get his dick wet.
”I want your cock in my mouth.” You confess that has been on your mind and in your fantasies for a while.
Jungkook shudders when he hears the desire in your voice like you will die if you can’t have him down your throat right now. His cock is throbbing at the promise of your warm heat and perfect lips wrapped around his shaft. He wants that too maybe even more like you do.
You’re surprised to feel him shake under your fingers when you pull his pants down. You kiss his hipbone to calm him, slowly guiding him to sit on the edge of your bed and encourage him to get comfortable as you lower yourself down to your knees between his parted legs.
You caress his inner thighs with your hands to keep the mood up as you lean to kiss him for real this time with teeth and tongue. There’s nothing innocent in it as you moan into his mouth at the taste of popcorn and expensive wine you both consumed.
”Talk to me. Do you want me to touch you? I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want me to.” He was so confident while rubbing his aching cock on you in the living room, however, his demeanour changed when you offered him pleasure.
Your mind is a mess of desire but you could still recognise that he’s becoming anxious when it comes to receiving and not giving.
”I- I want it!” Jungkook moans when you palm him over the fabric of his underwear.
Gentle as you rub your palm up and down the length of his cock, caressing the leaking tip with your fingers. The last item that comes between you and his straining erection is getting darker with his precum as you spread the wet patch with your hands.
”J- just be gentle, please.” He adds later as a shy afterthought. You didn’t think he’ll succumb to you so naturally as soon as you start touching him. It’s clear as day that he’s anxious to give up his power even though that’s all he can think about wanting to do but something holds him back to fully enjoy it. Submitting to you makes him anxious.
While you don’t know what kind of sexual encounter made him fear to give in to his desires you’re going to make sure that he enjoys every second of it with you.
”Tell me if you want to stop any time and I will.” Jungkook nods his head, his eyes shyly meeting yours, it’s the most intimate moment that you’ve shared with someone in a while.
You can see it in his warm brown eyes how he lets his walls down in front of your very own being and trusts you with making him feel good.
You blow air just right below the wet patch on his underwear, your mouth is close enough for him to feel the heat of it on his clothed dick. Close enough to tease but too far away to give him pleasure. You build up his anticipation by letting your tongue flick out and lick his length. Jungkook’s getting frustrated to see your mouth work on him but he can’t feel you properly because of his underwear being in the way.
Observing the frustrated furrow of his brows you give in after another lick and order him to lift his hips off the bed so you can remove the last fabric that conceals his perfect body from your hungry eyes.
Jungkook’s eager to follow your instructions as he lets you pull the fabric down his legs. The way his hands are gripping your bedsheets tell you that he wants to wrap his hand around himself to relieve the ache between his legs so bad he has to physically hold back and deal with the feeling of his hard length hitting his lower stomach.
You don’t want to make him upset so you refrain from teasing him any more than this. It seems like you’re not the only one who was deprived of another partner’s touch since he’s so sensitive to anything that you do to him. You start with licking the head of his cock where he’s most sensitive and move downwards soaking his length with your saliva mixed with his precum that oozes from the slit on his tip diligently.
”I’ll get the lube from my desk, I’ll be back in no time, ok?” Your desk is behind him where he won’t be able to see you so you make sure to reassure him you’re not leaving him hanging in case he’s still feeling insecure. Jungkook nods again, seemingly lost his voice after you started working on his cock.
You kiss him again since it looks like to make him feel at ease.
”You’re doing so well. I like hearing you, seeing you like this. You’re so beautiful. Muscular and firm in all the right places.” You encourage him to moan louder when you smooth the lube all over his length, pumping him languidly to ease him into the feeling before you tighten your hold around him and go faster.
”And your eyes. Those beautiful doe eyes. I think that’s my favourite part of you so far even though everything about you is beautiful. I want you to keep them open so I can gaze into them. Will you keep them open for me?” You caress his cheek with your free hand while you never let your pace falter with the one on his length.
Tears are gathering in his bottom lash as he complies, watching you obediently when you finally take his cock into your mouth, keeping your eyes locked. Moaning at the taste of his salty precum that you lap up with a circular motion of your tongue.
”Where do you want to cum?” You come up for air and to ask him what he wants. You work your hand around him in slow drags as your other takes care of teasing his tip, giving him all these different sensations that will eventually lead him up to the point when he can’t hold his need to cum.
”In your m-mouth! Please!” You take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head faster, going down deeper than before. Giving him the feel of your throat tightening around his length, swallowing while you try to control your breathing and keep your nose touching his lower stomach. It doesn’t take long until he releases his seed in your mouth.
You keep just the tip inside as you lick and suck, drinking every last drop of his release focusing on the sweet noises he lets out for you as you prolong his high.
You clean his softening length with tissues that you gathered from your bedside table and watch him in case he’ll suddenly jolt up and start panicking but it seems like he’s still coming down from his high as he pants softly, eyes closed and for the first time completely relaxed on your bed.
”Fuck. I’m tired.” Jungkook chuckles, his voice is raspy from all the moaning. You’re pleasantly surprised that he’s not panicking at all or telling you that this was a huge mistake like you thought he would. He’s very uptight in his work and mixing work with personal matters is a recipe for disaster, however, you can’t seem to find a single bone in your body to care anymore. You don’t regret doing this with him.
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Pairing: Reader x Dazai Osamu
He loathes that her nightmares are about him.
“What’s wrong, love?” His voice is low and soothing, laced with sleep.
He’s a light sleeper by nature, he had no choice but to be given his career choices, so when he felt her toss and turn next to him, the bed dipping and moving, he reaches out lazily and rests a hand on her arm.
He cracks an eye open when she stills under his hold, her breath audibly hitching. Stifling a yawn, he slowly props himself up on his arm and looks over.
“Y/N?” He frowns, watching her take a deep breath and open her eyes.
All his tiredness is snapped away once he sees the tears and fear in her eyes. Shuffling closer, he quickly tugs her into his arms. She hesitates for a second, before letting out a quiet whimper and clinging to him.
He shushes her, running a hand up and down her back. “A nightmare?”
She nods against his chest, the hand wound around the back of his shirt tightening, clutching the fabric tighter. She clings to him like he’ll slip out of her hands like sand if she lets go.
Humming, he places soft kisses against her head. “What’s troubling you?” He can feel her trembling against him and he loathes to see her like this. He blinks in surprise when she shakes her head, feeling it rather than seeing.
“You’ll feel better, my love.” He prompts, running his other hand gently through her hair. There’s a few moments of silence, which Dazai allows to float around, before she mumbles something, muffled against him.
“You.” It’s clearer the second time. It takes him aback. Him? “You were gone...”
“Truly a nightmare.” He agrees, recovering. “But I’d be an idiot to leave you-”
“No-” she cuts him off, her voice becoming a little louder, contracting the way she curls into herself more. Pausing for a second to listen to his heartbeat, steady and present under her ear, she speaks.
“...you died. You were gone.” She says again.
The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it has a sense of understanding to it. Dazai takes a second to sort thorough his thoughts.
That was...unexpected. He hadn’t done anything too drastic since he started dating her. She made him happy, provided him with a light to follow, however small it may be at times. He can’t bring himself to reassure her that he’ll always be here.
He can’t say for sure that her dream won’t come true. The worst thing is...
She knows it too.
This wasn’t a monster under the bed or some unrealistic, fantasy scenario that wasn’t possible. He hates that he can’t ease her worries completely. At the end of the day...Dazai’s...Dazai.
“I see. Well, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.” He pulls away a little, meeting her teary gaze. “Who’s going to protect you if I’m gone? I can’t let Kunikida snatch you away from me so easily!” It doesn’t elicit a laugh, but a small quirk to the side of her mouth. He counts it as a win.
“I’d hope not.” her voice is scratchy and still a little wobbly. He was right, she does feel a little better now that she’s told him, though.
They lay there together, Dazai occasionally humming something under his breath. He lets her listen to his heartbeat, reassure herself that he’s here and alive and well. Once he feels her breathing even out, he kisses her forehead, pulling the blankets tighter around themselves.
He holds her close, tucking her head under his chin.
He’d continue trying for her.
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A Two Rooms universe drabble that I’ve had in my WIPs for too long. I have been torn about where to take this one and whether to make it cute or smutty, but I’ve had enough of debating with myself about it and just made it short and cute.
Read it on Ao3!
Jaina was not often in a position to be looking for her wife. Usually she was the one being tracked, stalked--her meetings staked out until they ended too late and with too little done. Even now that Sylvanas knew she was welcome to Jaina’s late nights alone in the keep’s library, she’d leave her to them for a time, but would always seem to waltz in when Jaina was thinking about leaving for the night, or feeling like she needed a cup of tea.
So it was her assumption that when Sylvanas wasn’t trying to find her, it was because she didn’t want to be found herself. It had been so often this way in the first year of their marriage. Sylvanas would make a war room or an armory her home for an evening. Jaina had once passed a tent that formed the barracks for her rangers, only to find her wife settled up with them, talking quietly in flowing Thalassian. The heat of her cheeks she took for anger then, annoyance that her wife would take time for fraternizing when Jaina kept herself so busy she could count the few strands of gold left in her hair that turned white by the day. Now she understood that it might have been a hair of jealousy as well. That those rangers had once been able to make Sylvanas’ lips quirk into a little smile and her ears lift to react to a joke that Jaina had no hope of understanding, even with a solid grasp on the elven language.
So it was with great irony that she approached a dark ranger now--Clea, yes, definitely Clea, who was easy to tell from the scar on her chin and the way she wore her ashen hair swept mostly to one side beneath her hood--to ask where she might find her wife. Jaina had been making an effort to get to know them better, or at least to tell them apart. After the incident with Vereesa, Sylvanas had only allowed them to guard the door to their chambers. That, and they had recently seemed to warm up to Jaina. Well, in that they were ambivalent mostly, and didn’t hide thinly veiled hostility in their crimson eyes when they looked her way.
Seeing Jaina spend more time with their leader, and seeing Sylvanas enjoy it, might have had a lot to do with that. They were fiercely loyal creatures. Jaina admired them for that, if nothing else.
And she had learned that a little effort went a long way. “Good evening, Clea,” she offered, nodding to the undead elf as she made her way to the door to her and Sylvanas’ apartments.
It earned her a tiny smile. A ghost of a thing. Much like the woman who wore it, if only for a second. “Good evening.”
They did not use titles for her. They had but one queen. Jaina would not force herself as a second.
“Has Sylvanas already retired?”
It was a simple question, easy enough to leave her lips. But it felt so out of place. So domestic. So regal. So...needy.
Jaina didn’t see herself as a needy person. It was a word she hadn’t ever thought to apply to herself. Now that she did, in that moment as she stood before the door to her own home, she hated it. She could level cities. She almost had. She was in the running for most powerful mage living today. In fact, she was pretty sure she could outshine Khadgar if it came down to it, so that settled that. She was not needy.
But she did want to see her wife.
“She has,” Clea answered with a nod.
She didn’t volunteer any further information. Despite the way Jaina’s mind ran as to when or how or why, Clea only told her what she needed to know. But then again, she couldn’t possibly understand the one-sided game of cat and mouse Jaina had been playing for the better part of two hours.
She’d gone first to the war room, of course, where she’d found Lor’themar, glaring daggers at her as he offered a gruff explanation that Sylvanas had just left not a few minutes before.
It was about the sum of as many words as he had spoken to Jaina directly in the year prior. She didn’t fight that either. Lor’themar had every reason to hate her. Many people in this keep of hers did. Some grudges would take more than a breakthrough in her own marriage to dispel. Perhaps in another decade, she might hold a pleasant conversation with the former Regent Lord.
Jaina’s next stop after that had been the range. Sylvanas could often be found there when she had time to kill between meetings. Just as often she would be the one shooting as she would be the one scolding her rangers in quick, snapping Thalassian that sounded so different from their soft whispered jokes. So less elegant. So much of a reminder of what she was and always had been--A general. A commander. A woman of war.
But she hadn’t been there. Kalira and Vorel were there instead, and let Jaina know they hadn’t seen Sylvanas all day. Kalira had always been the most refreshing and verbose of the rangers with her, but now Jaina was pretty certain that it came down to thinly-veiled flirting. The wink at the end of that conversation had been telling, of course.
Enough that she wondered just what exactly was discussed at that range, besides everyone’s apparent slacking in their training regimens and poor form.
From there, it was a matter of poking her head into every room of the keep that held any interest--from the armory to the kitchens to even the library. But her wife was neither here nor there, or had just been seen passing through.
“Thank you,” Jaina said and nodded in return.
Clea said nothing in return, but the little smile ghosted across her pale lips again as she moved to open the door for Jaina. A rare moment of deferment and propriety. One Jaina did not expect from any of Sylvanas’ rangers.
Maybe she should ask what they really did talk about while they shot at target after target together, in the hours between the time they spent safe-guarding this fledgling kingdom of theirs.
Maybe it was better that Jaina did not ask.
She let it go. Like so many things. She was an expert at letting things go, even grudges others were not willing to part with. Everyone assumed it part of her efforts to maintain the bastion of peace she helped to forge for the world. And yes, that was a part. A small part.
In truth, Jaina was just very used to not getting what she wanted. From revenge to peace. Hot to cold. Satisfaction wasn’t hers to have. Compromise was a flavor that she fed to herself until she could claim to like the taste. In truth, she only tolerated it. But others would spit it out every time, so it was always left for her.
But as she walked beneath the symbols of her united kingdom, into the hall glittering with Forsaken masks and Kul Tiran anchors, Jaina felt that at least this latest compromise seemed to be just getting better with age, like a fine wine. Every day, she was surprised to find a new piece of tenderness behind the mask of her undead Ranger General, her wife and queen. Her enemy little more than a year ago. The woman who she now sought out for something. Jaina hadn’t decided yet. Pleasure? Comfort? Both?
There was a quiet stillness to Sylvanas she had come to enjoy. When they were alone, that was. It was both literal and not. She only breathed when she needed to speak or fell into a moment of animal habit, a seeming instinct that her undead body still stubbornly obeyed. She was content to just spend time quietly with Jaina, writing as she read, or reading as she wrote. Jaina had never pictured herself as enjoying a lover that would hardly talk to her through the course of an evening. But Sylvanas made herself present in other ways. A cup of hot tea, delivered before Jaina could ask for it. Her favorite breakfast, arranged to be delivered to the suite just after she usually woke in the morning. A light trailing of gloved fingers across her shoulder. Cool skin against her warm cheek as they settled into bed on a humid summer night.
It hadn’t been a hard day, as days went in New Lordaeron. Jaina had spent much of it in budgetary meetings, the first regarding the navy, of course, and the second about the mounting costs of their growing capital city. She hadn’t had to participate much in the last one, despite how long it had run. Sylvanas had been hiding some fine accountants in her Undercity, and Jaina was more than content to let the undead man her wife had nominated for the position of provisional treasurer worry about the ins and outs of financing the city and its reconstruction.
There had been a time when she could hardly bring herself to look upon one of the free undead. Before even she knew them as the Forsaken. Jaina knew of them. Her first return trip of the Eastern Kingdoms had been a great test of her resolve. In every skeletal face, she saw a person she’d failed. A woman she might have spared from that grizzly fate if she’d shown more backbone at Stratholme. A man she might have evacuated with her survivors to Theramore if she but had more time on her flight from her blighted adoptive homeland. Whatever good that might have done him, as Jaina winced realizing that such folly would have probably only bought such a soul a few more years of life. The worst had been the youth she’d seen locked up in Stormwind’s stockades, all rags and bones and glowing eyes and missing half a jaw. The Alliance representatives had told her they’d caught him as a spy, for the Horde of all things.
And now, she looked upon faces like that with trust. She sought out the dull pulse of the necromancy that held her wife to the body she’d reclaimed like a moth to a flame.
Perhaps her marriage wasn’t the only compromise that aged well.
Speaking of that energy, Jaina followed it like a dog on a scent. Now that she was close, she could feel Sylvanas. She was more powerful than her ilk, different than any other dark ranger or banshee or other undead. Perhaps that was why they so readily called her queen. Jaina had been privy now to more information on why her wife was different, but she suspected that her iron will alone would have always kept her apart without the help of her Valkyr or any other influence.
So finding Sylvanas in the sitting room, hands busy with simple idle work, red eyes trained on what she was doing, and only the perk of a single long ear serving as the acknowledgement that Jaina entered the room was strange.
No iron will. No screaming general. Just an elven ranger, fletching an arrow, with bare shafts and bits of feather lined up in neat piles on a coffee table.
Jaina watched her work for a long moment. Maybe too long. But her hands were graceful and gloveless as they wound sinew around and around, fastening the feathers she held in place with expert ease. Sylvanas had long, calloused fingers. Jaina knew now how they felt on her skin. On parts of her she would never have imagined letting the Banshee Queen touch for all those years that she fought against her. Whatever her jumbled thoughts had been prior to watching them work were now banished. Jaina was mesmerized, almost to the point of speechlessness.
But she felt the need to make sure Sylvanas didn’t know that. “And I learn yet another of your many secrets tonight. Let me guess, you never let anyone else fletch your arrows?”
“You cut your own quills,” Sylvanas retorted, still keeping her eyes on the arrow shaft as she finished wrapping it, holding the sinew in place beneath her thumb as she reached for a small brush in a bowl of something--a glue of some sorts, probably--and then painted a careful seal to finish the job off. “I don’t see any difference.”
“So do you,” Jaina noted.
“I suppose we have that in common then,” Jaina said as she approached the spread of feathers and sticks on the table that were fast turning into elegantly-made arrows. “We don’t trust others to know what we can do better ourselves.”
“Precisely,” Sylvanas said as she turned the arrow in her hand, examining all sides of it before lining it up against the neat row of finished ones. Only then did she look up at Jaina. “Why delegate when the result will be better otherwise?”
“To not be working all hours of the night, I suppose,” Jaina countered.
“I am not working,” Sylvanas told her. “I am...relaxing, you might say. I never minded fletching my own arrows. I’ve always found it meditative, in a way.”
Jaina looked at the table of bits and bobs. It was not so unlike her own desk when she would play with enchanting catalysts or use ten different inks to write up spellbooks and plans for new wards or cantrips. Only Sylvanas’ version of such repetitive tasks was much more militant and organized than Jaina’s chaos.
Sylvanas’ eyes followed hers as Jaina scanned over the various piles, puzzling at their meaning. She offered an explanation, simple and honest as any she was wont to give these days. Secrets were not worth keeping between them. Not anymore.
“The eagle’s feathers are for balance. The others are for identifying the type of arrow,” Sylvanas explained. “But I doubt you were seeking me out tonight to learn about fletching.”
“You knew then?” Jaina asked.
Was Sylvanas purposely avoiding her here? Sometimes, she wondered. Sometimes, she worried. What had grown between them in these last few months had always felt so tentative, so fragile. Perhaps because it was such a calm and quiet contrast to the first year of their marriage, where they had spent much of their time fighting battles on the front lines of paperwork, planning, and due process where there was no war front to serve otherwise.
Perhaps it was because Jaina herself wasn’t sure if she truly knew how to live in this time of coveted peace. At least, not yet.
But she was trying to learn.
“Only when Clea told me as I entered our apartments. I thought it best I stay in one place and let you find me,” Sylvanas told her.
She started on another arrow, wrapping the cut eagle’s feathers into the notches expertly. Sylvanas balanced them with a gentle grip, holding them in position until the sinew was tight enough to do it for her. Jaina wondered how much of it was muscle memory--centuries of nights repeating the same motion--and how much was a determined cause of perfection.
Jaina did not speak again until Sylvanas had finished this arrow, and laid it too next to it’s similarly perfect brethren. “Thus the hunter becomes the hunted. I suppose your rangers must talk.”
“Clea traded shifts with Anya just before I arrived. Anya, who talks far too much, so yes,” Sylvanas answered. “Though they didn’t say why you were seeking me out.”
She looked up to her fully then, gesturing to the open space next to her on the couch. Sylvanas did not pick up another arrow shaft. She waited, both for Jaina to sit and for her answer.
So Jaina sat, and gave that answer as she swept her skirts into order about her legs. “You’re usually the one to seek me out in the evenings,” she said. “I wondered about you as the hour grew late and you didn’t come around to scold me for being awake.”
Truth be told, she wasn’t sure why. She didn’t have a name for this. She didn’t have a firm answer as to what it was. She knew that she never minded Sylvanas’ nightly scoldings. She might very well have missed them when they didn’t occur. But voicing that was another thing entirely.
“Most people don’t use the word ‘scold’ in an appreciative tone,” Sylvanas noted.
There was a wit and an intelligence to many things that she said that Jaina enjoyed far too much. She kept her double-toned voice low, so low that the overtone was nearly gone, though she could never truly be rid of it. Sylvanas even allowed herself to relax from her rigid and militant posture, angling herself against the cushions of the sofa for comfort and to see Jaina as they spoke.
Likely not for comfort. She did little in the name of comfort, at least, not for herself. But to Jaina, she was witty and smiled a little into her statement as she relaxed next to her.
“You should know by now that I am not most people,” Jaina told her.
“Most people do not miss me, so I would have to agree with that,” Sylvanas replied.
These days, she would shuck off some of her armor as she walked into the doors of their apartments. Jaina would have known she was here even without Clea’s report, from the pauldrons that were hanging on near the door, and the clawed gauntlets left resting on a hall table. Sylvanas still wore her hood and cuirass and sabatons, but her bare shoulders were a combination of soft curves and hard angles against the couch cushions.
As was all of her, really. Jaina knew better now. She had once seen Sylvanas as such a hard and harsh woman. Honed like steel to a weapon of her own making. No doubt she was still, and could be at any moment.
But Jaina knew now how soft her skin was. How she smelled of rosewater and bathed with special oils to tame her hair into rigid straightness. Jaina knew she liked the way she smelled and the softness of that skin and the way Sylvanas’ collar bones would poke into her cheeks.
She knew what she came here for.
“So what if I did miss you?” Jaina asked. “Perhaps we should work on being in the same room more often.”
She leaned toward her wife. Yes, her wife. The phrase wasn’t new to her, but had taken on added meaning in these last few months. But Jaina resolved that it no longer had to be new and tenuous. She didn’t have to have an excuse or an especially hard day to want to fall into her arms.
And Sylvanas didn’t have to play coy at leaving herself open and ready to be fallen into either. Though perhaps, Jaina might resolve that she liked that.
But that was a battle for another day.
“I would venture to say this might be the first time we’ve sat together in this sitting room of ours,” Sylvanas noted with a twirling little gesture of the hand that hung over the back of the couch. “Perhaps we might do it more often.”
“Perhaps we might,” Jaina agreed as she leaned in, laying her weight on a combination of hardness and softness. Armor and skin. Banshee queen and wife.
And as Sylvanas wrapped her arms around her and steadied her in that embrace, Jaina admitted to herself that yes, this was what she was looking for.
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Ever thought about doing the Yuletide fic exchange? Completely baffled by how it actually works? Good news--Elf over on Dreamwidth has written a helpful explainer post! https://elf.dreamwidth.org/840299.html
TLDR: Peruse a list of small fandoms (i.e. ones without much fic), specify which ones you’d like to write and which ones you’d like to read, everyone gets matched with a recipient who wants a fandom you want to write, you write a story for them, someone writes a story for you, now you have stories!
I’m going to be participating this year and I’m particularly excited because Gallifrey has already been nominated... so if that’s a fandom you’d like to write, jump on in! There are also a lot of book fandoms, movies, and quirky and lesser-known media that can be really fun to discover.
There’s still time to nominate your favorite “why isn’t there more fic for this” fandom, too!
If we’re mutuals and you decide to participate, let me know and we can cheer each other on!
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It Isn’t in my Blood
Prompt: Inspired by @kitkatpancakestack‘s “what if Buck finds the pamphlet“ post
Pairing: Implied future Buddie - Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz
Word Count: 2,330
Summary: SPOILERS - A 5x01 missing scene - Buck finds the pamphlet on anxiety and panic attacks given to him by the cardiologist at the hospital and encourages Eddie to tell him what happened. Eddie breaks down and admits that maybe not everything is okay.
Beta’d by @firemedicdiaz Thank you babe <3
Read it on Ao3
“I’ll just be a minute, you staying here?” Eddie asked, hopping out of the truck and looking over at Buck.
“Sure, sounds good,” Buck said, yawning. Eddie nodded and closed the door, hurrying up the sidewalk as Buck settled back in his seat. It had been such a long, chaotic shift and Buck was exhausted; Eddie just had to drop off a form at Christopher’s school and then they were going for breakfast. Buck figured he had time for a short nap and shut his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come.
After a while it became apparent that Eddie was going to be longer than he’d said, and Buck was getting restless. He grew bored quite easily of late, so he began poking around Eddie’s truck - changing the radio station, fiddling with the air freshener. Absently, Buck hit the button on the dashboard that opened the glove box in front of him and looked down into it, wondering if there were any travel brochures left in there from a previous road trip that he could look at. Instead, he pulled out a very different kind of pamphlet that looked like it had been shoved in carelessly and as he read the front, his eyebrows contracted with a small frown.
Understanding Anxiety and Panic Attacks - Recognize the Signs and Symptoms
Underneath the pamphlet were a couple of folded sheets of paper. Upon quick inspection, Buck saw that they were discharge papers from the hospital dated a few days earlier with Eddie’s name in the patient field.
Buck’s heart squeezed painfully as he stared at the slightly crumpled papers and then back at the pamphlet, realizing what it must all mean. Buck had been startled earlier in the shift when that doctor had called out to Eddie, but Eddie had been very resistant to talking about his trip to the hospital. Buck had dropped it for the time being as they had been chaotically busy the entire shift, but he had always intended to grill Eddie about it later. Now, he suddenly understood what must have happened. He knew from experience how scary panic attacks could be, how they could feel like a heart attack, especially if a person had never had one before.
He remembered how uncomfortable Eddie had looked when Buck had tried to confront him. Buck knew how much Eddie relied on everyone thinking he was this stoic, unmoving rock, because it allowed him to hide his feelings and keep everything bottled up. Buck was well aware that he himself and Bobby were the only two people that Eddie ever opened up to, and it made Buck’s heart hurt as he considered how shaken up Eddie must have been by the whole incident to be so resistant to telling him about it.
Buck sighed, wishing he had known, thinking about how he could try to help Eddie as he skimmed the pamphlet. He wanted to help, hating the idea that Eddie could be going through this alone. He distinctly remembered how Eddie had tried to drag Buck out of his horrible depression and anxiety after the fire truck had crushed his leg and he wanted to be there for Eddie in turn. Buck knew that Eddie had Ana, but if Buck was right about their relationship, he suspected that Eddie would be uncomfortable talking to her about his emotions. He’d always had the feeling that while Eddie clearly liked Ana and they got along well, their relationship wasn’t particularly deep and Buck knew that Eddie had to really trust someone before he would open up.
Lost in his thoughts, Buck was still looking at the pamphlet in one hand, the discharge papers held loosely in the other, when Eddie returned.
“Alright, that’s all done, let’s go t-- Buck, what the hell?”
Buck jumped as the driver’s door opened and Eddie swung himself inside, only to freeze when he saw what Buck was holding and reading through. Buck started to stammer as Eddie snatched the papers and pamphlet out of his hands and threw them back into the glove box, snapping it shut and staring straight ahead, his chest rising and falling quickly, his jaw set.
“Eddie, I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just found that in the glove box and I couldn’t help looking at it…”
“It’s fine. It’s nothing.” Eddie’s voice was clipped, and Buck could tell he felt vulnerable and was not pleased about it.
“I mean, it’s not nothing,” Buck replied cautiously in a coaxing tone. He hadn’t been planning on talking to Eddie about this before breakfast, but then there was no time like the present. “Is this why you were in the hospital the other day?”
Eddie shot him an annoyed look, because it was obvious that Buck had seen the discharge papers so the question was redundant, but then he sighed and nodded.
“Yeah. I’m fine though.”
“Eddie… you’ve been through so much. There’s no shame in having a panic attack--” Buck began, but Eddie started the truck and cut through his words sharply.
“I don’t panic.”
Buck frowned as Eddie pulled away from the curb and began to drive without saying another word. Deciding to give him some space for a few so he could collect his thoughts, Buck stayed silent as they moved through the streets. To his surprise, Eddie pulled up in front of Buck’s apartment building and parked, still looking straight ahead.
“I… thought we were going for breakfast?” Buck asked slowly, not sure what to expect. Eddie seemed to steel himself, then glanced towards the building and shut off the truck.
“I know you’re not going to let this go, and I don’t want to do it in public. Let’s go up to your loft.”
Eddie’s voice was gruff, but Buck was grimly pleased that he wasn’t resisting. Buck knew that Eddie knew Buck would not let this slide, would not let it rest until he was sure that Eddie was okay. Taking his lead, Buck agreed and hopped out of the truck, following Eddie up to his building and then leading the way into his apartment.
“Let’s get this over with,” Eddie said in a resigned voice as he moved into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, Buck pulling himself up and sitting on the counter across from him. “What do you want to know?”
“What happened?” Buck asked simply. “I know you went to the hospital, you were seen by a cardiologist, and now you have a pamphlet on panic attacks. What actually happened?”
Eddie gnawed the inside of his lip, still refusing to look at Buck as he mulled over what to say. He was staring at the lower part of the counter in front of him, Buck’s shoe dangling in his line of sight, though he wasn’t seeing much. All he could see in his mind was that damn suit store, the feeling of the tightness in his chest making him feel claustrophobic and deeply uncomfortable.
“I don’t know. We were trying on suits, and then I just… collapsed. I thought I was having a heart attack,” Eddie summarized it as succinctly as he could, but he knew it wasn’t going to be enough for Buck.
“Okay, but what triggered that?” Buck asked, his voice gently prodding. “Did something upset you, or…?”
Eddie shifted uncomfortably, and Buck’s lips curled in a small, sad smile.
“Eddie, it’s just me. You can talk to me. You know you can trust me. Please tell me what happened.”
For a brief moment, Eddie lifted his eyes and met Buck’s gaze. Buck’s expression was earnest, concerned, and Eddie knew he was right. If there was anyone in this world he could trust, it was Buck. Still, he hated talking about his emotions, especially ones he felt like he couldn’t control. And yet, he felt like if he didn’t share it with someone he may explode because he was starting to seriously wonder what was going on in his brain.
“I… you know I’m not good at this,” Eddie muttered, and Buck nodded.
“I know, but… you were there for me when everything with my parents was going on. You told me it was okay to feel what I was feeling, and to share it. I want that for you, too,” Buck told him gently, and Eddie sighed. He felt like a hypocrite; he had told Buck those things, and he had meant it. But for some reason when it came to himself, he had different rules.
“The last time Chris and I wore suits was at Shannon’s funeral,” Eddie said, averting his gaze once more as he began to speak. “I guess that was already putting me on edge. I couldn’t stop thinking about her death and everything that had happened right before she died. I just wanted to get out of there.”
Eddie paused but Buck didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt. Buck had a feeling that if Eddie stopped talking he wouldn’t start again so he waited patiently, keeping his mouth shut.
“I think Chris was feeling it, too, but I was too distracted to notice. And then… then the sales guy called Ana Chris’s mom.”
Buck tilted his head to the side, looking over at Eddie, slightly confused. Eddie and Ana had been together for nearly six months, it was only natural that at some point she would be mistaken for Chris’s mom. But Eddie seemed shaken and Buck wasn’t sure he was going to continue.
“What happened then?” Buck asked quietly, trying to gently prompt Eddie to speak again without spooking him. Eddie had gotten a somewhat haunted look in his eyes and Buck could tell he was getting upset. He was tempted to tell Eddie to stop, not wanting him to be distraught, but he sensed Eddie really needed to get it out there, so Buck would do everything he could to coax it out.
“I- I genuinely don’t know,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Hearing that, it just… it intensified my thoughts about Shannon, and thinking of Ana as Chris’s mom is just - just so far beyond where we are in our relationship, and I- I…”
Eddie was starting to get visibly upset and Buck slipped off the counter, moving over to stand beside him in case he needed support.
“It made me realize that m-maybe I don’t want-- maybe things aren’t going so great, or something. I don’t know.”
“And then?” Buck prompted gently, feeling his heart break as Eddie glanced at him, clearly upset.
“And then… I don’t know. I don’t panic,” Eddie said stubbornly, though as he thought back to what had happened, he let out a long, unhappy sigh. “But… I guess I panicked. I don’t know. I felt overwhelmed, and my chest got tight and I couldn’t breathe… I got really dizzy and fell over, I thought I was having a heart attack.”
“Panic attacks can be really scary,” Buck told him, trying to reassure him. “They can definitely feel like heart attacks.”
“I don’t panic,” Eddie repeated, scowling at the floor. “I never panic. Not in the military, not when Shannon died, not when you nearly died several times…”
“Eddie, you’ve been through a lot,” Buck reasoned, trying to brush off the last part of the sentence, as though it wasn’t a big deal to him that his near-death experiences were one of the things Eddie considered most upsetting. “Do you think the shooting could be part of this? Or is it just your relationship?”
Eddie shifted uncomfortably again, not responding, and as Buck watched him, he saw tears start to pool in Eddie’s eyes, despite Eddie continually refusing to make eye contact.
“Are you okay?” Buck asked quietly, reaching out and touching him, gripping Eddie’s forearm lightly in a gesture of support. This one little touch seemed to have caused him to come undone, however, and Buck saw his expression contort, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried and failed to stop himself crying.
“No,” Eddie finally blurted out, seemingly completely against his will. “No, I’m not okay.”
Buck’s heart broke and he immediately reached out to embrace Eddie, giving him a chance to pull away if he wanted. When he didn’t, Buck wrapped his arms around him and held him as Eddie choked into his shoulder, trying desperately to stop himself from outright sobbing. It was rare that Buck had seen Eddie cry - he hadn’t seen it since Shannon’s death - and Buck wished he could take Eddie’s pain away, wished he could make the world right for him again.
After a few moments Eddie squirmed in his arms and Buck got the message that he was uncomfortable so he pulled away, but he didn’t go far. Eddie seemed determined to not meet his gaze, furiously wiping at his eyes, and Buck gently rubbed his back, sensing that he really wanted comfort but was trying to stop himself from allowing it. They stood like that for a while, until Eddie’s attempts at stopping his tears dissolved and he took a shaky breath, letting them slip down his cheeks as he pulled himself together.
“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. You’re going to get through this,” Buck told him, his hand stilling in the middle of Eddie’s back. “And I’m gonna help you get through it, if that’s what you want.”
Eddie swallowed, sniffing, as he listened to Buck speak. He’d always gone through things alone. He’d always thought that was the best way to do it. But in that moment, standing there, knowing he had Buck’s full love and support behind him, Eddie started to wonder if maybe having Buck at his side would be a much better option than going it alone. Eddie nodded slowly, glancing at Buck for a moment before looking away, nodding again.
“Yeah,” Eddie took a shaky breath and looked over at Buck, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope in his heart. “That’s what I want.”
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To Live Again
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all i take with me (or, the one where family of the heart is found)
prompt fill for @cannibalgremlin ★ Read on AO3
Prompt: Jin Ling severely injured on a night hunt cause of Jiang cheng pushing him to hard even though he’s also now a sect leader, thankfully jingyi and sizhui found him an brought him back to gusu to be healed
When he wakes up he almost died multiple times through his healing process, but no one tells him that jiang cheng never came to visit him or respond to their letters. So when he finally shows up to lotus pier (wangxian in tow cause i want one of them to go off on jc) and jc is just “so you finally deemed to visit.. an you brought a traitor with you”
Jin Ling’s relationship with his jiujiu breaks after a night hunt.
In truth, the trust between them had begun splintering two and a half years before, with Wei Wuxian’s resurrection and the revelations about his other uncle. Being thrust into the position of Sect Leader of Lanling-Jin lessened the time he was able to spend with his jiujiu, and he had other, better advisors behind him. It was quickly made apparent how lacking the teachings of Jiang Cheng had been for him; he could not go gallivanting off on night hunts, and he could not just leave the sect to run itself. Lanling-Jin required knowledge of politics, the ability to mask one’s true intentions, the ability to let some things slide. All traits and skills that Jiang Cheng was sorely lacking.
He didn’t like to realize how bitter and ineffective his jiujiu was. But as time went on, and he continued to expand his dealings with the other sects and with his newly-found shishu, it was inevitable.
But—Jiang Cheng is stillhis jiujiu.
Jin Ling makes efforts—invites Jiang Cheng to Jinlintai and Koi Tower, makes sure to travel to Lotus Pier every summer when he has time, agrees to night hunts.
Their latest night-hunt is for a boar-demon that had killed two farmers outside of a village in the far eastern reaches of Yunmeng territory. Jin Ling travels from Lanling straight to the village with an escort of two disciples; Jiang Cheng meets him there, alone. Jin Ling is more than capable of going on solo night hunts; he received his courtesy name the year before, and he is the Sect Leader. But there remains something reassuring about hunting with others.
That evening, just after dusk, he follows his jiujiu into the woods along the local game trail, and hopes that the hunt will go well.
He knows he’s in Cloud Recesses before he even opens his eyes. It smells like Sizhui’s incense, clean and mellow, and there is someone playing a qin. Cleansing, his mind supplies. Not many mistakes, so it can’t be Jingyi.
“Sizhui?” he asks, cracking his eyes open. Yes, the dark wood of the ceiling affirms his belief that he’s in Cloud Recesses.
“a-Ling!” The guqin’s strings are abruptly stopped, and he can tell by the footsteps that Sizhui runs, actually runs, over to the bed. He looks almost as bad as Jin Ling feels, once he enters Jin Ling’s line of sight and gently sets his hands onto Jin Ling’s shoulders, stopping him from trying to sit up. He looks so relieved, and his eyes are red, “Oh, you’re—you finally woke up. How do you feel?”
“Shit,” Jin Ling says, both because he feels too winded to say more and because it’s true. Everything hurts, even breathing hurts.
“Oh! Uh,” Sizhui flits about, nervous, and babbles, “I need to get a healer! Oh—but a-Die wanted to know when you woke up. Are you comfortable? Do you need some water?”
“Sizhui,” he groans, “get a healer.”
“I’ll get a healer!” Sizhui all but yelps, and then disappears, again running. It’s—strange. Jin Ling has never seen Sizhui act like that, like he’s worried and doesn’t have a handle on himself.
He mulls over what he remembers, trying to figure out how, exactly, he got to Cloud Recesses when the last thing he remembers is being gored. Oh—moving is sluggish but he nonetheless settles his hand on his chest; it hurts, of course, but there’s bandaging there and when he takes his hand away to look at it, no blood. Of course, Cloud Recesses has the best healers the cultivation world has to offer.
Jin Ling is brought out of his dazed thoughts when the door to the sickroom opens again, and the kind face of the Lan head healer, Lan Liangji-daifu, enters his line of sight. “Ah, Jin-gongzi,” her smile lines crinkle as she takes his wrist for his pulse, and the fact that she does not use his title settles something in Jin Ling’s chest, “You gave us all quite a scare—several scares.
“Your lungs were both punctured, and your meridians were misaligned,” she explains, settling his wrist back down and moving to open the loose, untied zhongyi covering his chest, “We thought we lost you four separate times while we were healing you; you owe great thanks to young Jingyi and Sizhui, and to Wei-gongzi for getting you back here as quickly as they did.”
Jingyi, Sizhui, and Wei Wuxian.
Not his jiujiu.
“Jin-gongzi has been kept unconscious for a week; your sect has been notified, and they have sent guards here for you. I believe your second-aunt Jin Yanwei-guniang has temporarily taken to run Lanling-Jin; she will need to be informed,” Lan-daifu says, turning toward the door. Sizhui must have followed her back in, because there’s a murmured affirmative and his steps recede again.
He finds himself slightly mortified that Sizhui saw him in such a state of undress, but cannot bring himself to worry too much; Jin Ling is far too tired for that, or for anything else. When he is given medicine, he drinks it down, and doesn’t complain as Lan-daifu redresses his wounds, packing them with some poultice that smells gross. If his zu-gugu is in charge at Lanling, he doesn’t need to worry. She and some of his other great-aunts and -uncles were the ones to truly teach him the ways of politics, and a week isn’t long enough for anyone to stage and succeed at a coup.
And, again, his thoughts turn back to the hunt as he drops off to unconsciousness. Why hadn’t Jiang Cheng helped him? Had he been injured as well?
The woods are deep and dark by the time they made it to the area where the farmers had been killed while hunting or foraging. There are obvious signs of violence—dried blood, massive scrapes from the demon’s tusks, felled trees. The villagers had retrieved the bodies, doing so carefully by day, so at least there was that. They had also removed the more obtrusive trees from the path.
It isn’t hard to find the boar demon. No, it seems to have heard, or smelled them coming, and Jin Ling takes to the trees with his bow in hand while his jiujiu unleashes Zidian.
Jin Ling is glad to be at a distance; he still doesn’t like that whip.
Everything seems to go well, at the beginning. They herd the boar out of the deep woods to where the trees are sparser, where it’ll be easier to fell it; Jin Ling finally leaves the height of the trees to unsheathe Suihua and join his jiujiu on the forest floor. Jiang Cheng, like always, only has Zidian out, Sandu still on his hip.
Later, he only remembers tableaus of what happened. Jiang Cheng jumping out of the way. Zidian striking a second too late. Sharp, sudden pain after the beast charged him. Blood. His jiujiu snarling in annoyance, hatred.
The white-blue of Lan robes.
It is two full weeks of bed rest with far too much disgusting medicine and guqin music before he’s allowed to move to a guest pavilion. He has constant company—whether it be his own disciples, Sizhui and Jingyi, or his shishu. It’s nice. Verynice if he’s being honest. Missives from Jinlintai come daily—sometimes twice or thrice daily, if there is important news. But he’s not having to worry about it at every moment, and, in fact, the healers have warned him not to worry or overextend himself in any way. His zu-gugu understands that; she keeps a regular rotation of disciples visiting Cloud Recesses to ensure he’s safe and healing.
But, in truth, his favorite visitor is Wei Wuxian. He would never admit it to the man, of course, but their relationship has mellowed since the events in the Guanyin temple; Wei Wuxian is one of the few who actually shares stories of his parents. His jiujiu refuses to talk of his mother.
Jin Ling was informed that Jiang-zongzhu was uninjured and had returned to Lotus Pier upon completing the hunt. The others—Sizhui, Jingyi, Wei Wuxian—don’t outright say it, but Jin Ling knows his jiujiu well enough to know. Jiang Cheng didn’t both helping him when he was wounded, did not accompany him to Cloud Recesses, and has not written or visited him.
He focuses on the good, on his friends, his shishu. But it doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt whenever he thinks of his jiujiu.
“So you finally deemed it was time for a visit,” his jiujiu says, the first thing the man says when Jin Ling steps foot in Yunmeng-Jiang’s main hall, “and you brought the traitor with you.”
Jin Ling’s stomach plummets. He knew this meeting would likely not go well, but he had hoped. When he’d finally sent a message to Lotus Pier, a month after their night hunt, he’d thought they might be able to have a civil discussion, he’d thought he might be able to ask his jiujiu why he just—why he left him and never cared to ask after him. Foolish of him, he guessed, to hope when it came to Jiang Cheng.
“Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun escorted me from Cloud Recesses,” Jin Ling explains, trying to keep his tone in control. It doesn’t help to get upset with his jiujiu. “I was treated there after the night hunt.”
Jiang Chen scoffs, as if what comes from his nephew’s mouth isn’t to be believed, leaning back on the lotus throne. “As if you’d be so weak as to need their help.”
“Jiujiu, I,” Jin Ling feels like his stomach has now fully dropped out of his chest and must be rolling on the floor, “I almost died!”
Jiang Cheng sneers at that, “As if you would’ve died from so simple a hunt. Lanling and that traitorboth coddle you too much.”
“Regardless of your opinion of him, Wei-qianbei is my shishu,” Jin Ling says, sharply, “and he helped get me to Cloud Recesses where Lan healers saved my life.”
And, again, Jiang Cheng makes a derisive noise as if Jin Ling is lying about this. It feels like a stab to the heart, like his wounds have been torn back open again. As much as Wei Wuxian and Hanguang-jun tried to be gentle when they spoke to him, it’s obvious that they were right. Jiang Cheng left him to die, and still does not care. He steels himself for what is inevitably going to follow his next words, necessary though they are.
“I will not be accepting further personal invitations for hunts in Yunmeng-Jiang, and Lanling-Jin disciples will come with me to assist if I have to,” Jin Ling says, and he sounds brave but he feels terrified. But—this is something he has to do, has to say. If he had gotten a different reaction, perhaps he would not be drawing this line, but he did not, so he must.
And he knowns, of course, that it is the wrong thing to say regardless of how needed it is. Jiang Cheng swells, his face going red then purple as fury overtakes him.
“You brat,” Jiang Cheng hisses, raising his hand as if to strike before he thinks better of it, and Jin Ling cannot stop the flinch that jars through him, spiking pain under his bandages and tensing his muscles to flee. “After all I’ve done for you?! You discard me just like your precious shishudid, as if I didn’t raise you!”
“That’s enough,” a firm voice cuts through the haze of panic that Jin Ling has found himself in, and he almost crumples in relief as the familiar white and red of Wei Wuxian’s robes cuts off his view of his jiujiu. “Jiang-zongzhu, Jin-zongzhu is still recovering from your negligence,” his shishu says, viciously disapproving, “For his own personal safety he is allowed to make such a decision, and as head of Lanling-Jin he does not answer to you.”
“So Gusu-Lan is exerting control over other sects, now, is that it?” Jiang Cheng barks out a sharp laugh, furiously twisting Zidian on his finger, “Do you not realize when you are not wanted, Wei Wuxian? This is business between Lanling-Jin and Yunmeng-Jiang!”
“No, this is business between Jin Ling, your nephew, and you as his uncle,” Wei Wuxian says, and even more of the tensions leaves Jin Ling’s shoulders. It’s heartening, that his shishu understands. “And I am here for his sake, not on behalf of Gusu-Lan. Watch your words, Jiang-zongzhu, or this will become a sect issue.”
Jiang Cheng sneers again, but backs off. “There’s no need for any of you to stay in Lotus Pier, then,” he turns on his heel and doesn’t bother looking back, voice full of venom, “I trust you do not need a guide to see you out.”
Jin Ling wants to protest, wants to call out to his jiujiu to look at him at least, but he stays silent and lets Wei Wuxian settle a kind hand on his shoulder, steering him out.
Hanguang-jun is waiting outside the main hall, and Jin Ling assumes he heard everything. Thankfully, there is no pity in his gaze, and instead he and Wei Wuxian trade a look, then as a group they walk out of Lotus Pier, Jiang disciples watching them go. Only once they are out of the sect grounds, and on a quiet street not far from the main market, Wei Wuxian slows, turns to Jin Ling with concern on his face.
“Are you alright, a-Ling?” his shishu asks, and Jin Ling feels his tenuously held control beginning to break. He doesn’t reply to that question, and Wei Wuxian follows up with, “Are you up to traveling back?”
He mutely shakes his head. In truth, he does not want to stay in Yunmeng, but his chest is throbbing with pain and he just—he needs to sit down. He needs to deal with this before it festers.
“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian says, again taking Jin Ling by the shoulder, protectively, “get us rooms at the inn we stayed at last time.”
“Mn,” Hanguang-jun gives Jin Ling one last concerned look, then disappears down the street in the direction of Lotus Pier’s outskirts.
“Jin-zongzhu—a-Ling! Jingyi, he’s not breathing—where’s Wei-qianbei?! We need to get him to Cloud Recesses!”
“I’ve—Wei-qianbei! Over here! Let me transfer him some spiritual energy, Lan-daifu taught me how after last night-hunt.”
“Aiya, what’s the—a-Ling? Sizhui, move, get your sword; Jingyi, keep giving him spiritual energy. Oh, a-Ling, what happened to you? Ah—yes, help me get up on Suibian. No, not you, Jingyi, keep giving him spiritual energy, get on your sword. We move together—ready?”
“I sent a talisman ahead, for Lan-daifu, a-die, do you—?”
“Yes, help me; let’s go.”
Hanguang-jun leaves them alone that evening, after the meal, and Wei Wuxian gently steers Jin Ling to his room, seats him at the table and makes tea. The soft, familiar sounds are soothing, and by the time Wei Wuxian is seated across from him Jin Ling has lost some of the stuttering fear and worry from earlier in the day.
“Do you want to talk about it?” his shishu asks, pouring them tea.
“I need to, but,” Jin Ling stares at the amber liquid in the cup, steaming gently. But he doesn’t particularly want to, doesn’t want to think of his jiujiu unless he has to. He takes a sip; perfectly brewed. “I don’t—how do you deal with him?”
There’s a wry smile on Wei Wuxian’s face as he replies, “I avoid him. I ignore him. a-Ling, he may be your uncle, but that doesn’t mean you need to sacrifice your own peace of mind and health for him. I learned that the hard way.”
There’s silence, but it’s comfortable. “I told him I won’t take night hunts alone, here, anymore,” Jin Ling finally admits, fiddling with the porcelain cup. He looks up at his shishu, and gets a nod of approval.
“You’ll still see him, a-Ling,” Wei Wuxian reaches across the table to ruffle his hair. Jin Ling makes a token protest, feeling mostly normal again, and that earned a beaming smile from his shishu. “And if you need to talk, I’m always here. So is Hanguang-jun, and your friends. Sizhui, I’m sure, would love to talk with you.”
It’s teasing, but the teasing is welcome, and Jin Ling can’t help but flush. Another sip of tea, and he looks to Wei Wuxian, who has become more of an uncle to him than Jiang Cheng ever has been. “Thank you, shishu,” he says.
Wei Wuxian ruffles his hair again, and laughs.
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