#kwordsmiths

[ve1vetyoongi]

wherever you will go | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: actor!oc, director!jungkook, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 21k

Summary:  Not much happens when you grow up by the coast. Tourists come and go, the theatre where you work shows the same shows over and over and there’s always sand and salt in the air. Your dreams of making it big in the city are exactly that: dreams. When your hopes of becoming an actress are shattered into a million pieces, you find yourself getting drawn to a captivating up-and-coming movie director by the name of Jeon Jungkook. With his bright eyes and charming smile, he seems determined to glue your pieces back together -- even if it means leaving Ocean City behind for good.

Warnings: themes of loss/grief, mentions of death of a parent, dom!jungkook, dom/sub themes, spanking, squirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving).

Rating: Mature.

A/N: Hello loves! HAPPY JK DAY!! This fic is a lil celebration of our golden boy Jungkook so I hope you enjoy!! This whole fic is sickeningly fluffy and reads like a pretentious YA novel but ya girl wrote this while she was stuck in quarantine a few weeks ago and I debated not posting this bc I lowkey love it lowkey hate it so pleasedonthateme if it’s bad LOL. Also -- just incase you haven’t read the warnings already there is a running theme that deals with the loss of a parent (a topic very close to my heart, hence why this piece was especially healing to write.) so reader discretion is advised if that is triggering to you in any way shape or form!!!! P.P.S Largely unedited so pls bare with any mistakes!

Prelude.

You're late for your work shift, you note, as you catch sight of your watch face glaring up at you menacingly from the arm clutching the handle bars of your bike. As if your mood couldn't get any more miserable -- the dreary morning drizzle that falls from the sky and drips icily down the back of your nape was bad enough.

Goddamn, you groan to yourself as you will your feet to pedal ever faster. Now my hair is gonna be frizzy.

It's a Saturday and the theatre where you work always opens earlier at the weekends. You promised you'd be on time today, but yet here you are, speeding down the worn in sandy sidewalks of your seaside town a whole block away when you should've been opening up half an hour ago.

It's a habit of yours, being late. And as hard as you try, you just can't change a habit. But it can't be helped you suppose. Continuity is all you've ever known. That's the thing about living in a tiny seaside town. Things never change.

The view from your bedroom window has been the same for as long as you can remember — Ocean City — Aka, block after block of rainbow coloured houses with flaky paint leading up to the harbour where boats bob nonchalantly and fishermen reel in their catches beneath the gull filled sky. Beyond it the beach; greyish rolling waves and upturned pebbles nestled atop of hard sand in the winter and clear water and brightly coloured beach towels and brave surfers in the summer.

Nobody ever leaves, and the tourists that arrive in summer never stay. Life becomes a predictable practice, just each day lived out to the next in an endless cycle of never ending continuity. It's suffocating and endless and sometimes you feel like you're just a pawn on a giant chess board, destined to move one agonising square forward at a time, never diagonally. It's hard to change directions when you've been taught to stick to what you know.

You didn't always live here, in this town of continuity. You lived in the big city for a while, where no day was the same as another. But after your mother died you and your older brother were shipped off to live with your dad, who wouldn't know the definition of adapting if it hit him square in the face. He's always been the same square shouldered, balding dude in his forties who never wanted kids and never quite got over losing your mother to the big buck actor she ran off with when you were two.

So that's how you ended up here. Late for work at your job in the country's most prized vacation spot. And your boring reality.

You roll past the beach huts on the shoreline that alternate between vibrant pink and muted blue, barely paying attention to the boardwalk with its little boat house that stretches out into the horizon like a crooked finger. When it gets dark, you can spot the pier carnival lights flashing in the distance from here as they dance across the reflection of the pale white moon and play among the waves.

Even now, the yellow lights of the ornate street lamps that line the water's front shine like tiger's eyes against the sky just like they always have when you turn down the familiar route that takes you past the winding lanes of trinket shops and the happy hour bars and the carnival that feels strangely empty at such an early hour, not a single rollercoaster ride in operation.

Before long you're skidding to a stop outside of the The Crestmont, the old theatre where you work. It's everything you'd expect from a vintage cinema; pink and blue neon lights and a gold trimmed ticket booth out front with a three-sided marquee that extends from the front of the building like a brightly lit airport runway. You hurry beneath it, grateful for the protection it provides from the rain that has started to come down in lashes now, before heading over to the rack around the back of the building where you can chain your bike.

The Crestmont used to be somewhat of a hotspot back in the day or so your told, but these days it only shows cartoons at a discounted price for the neighbourhood kids and the occasional local production of some worn out musical everyone has seen a hundred times before. It's lost all it's magic, everyone says. But you disagree; you probably spend more time here than anyone, and there's magic in every inch of this place.

From the red velvet curtains to the grand chandelier, The Crestmont is one of a kind. Sometimes you disappear into the theatre by yourself for a while unbeknownst to your manager. You can almost taste the laughter and the tears and the love that has been spilled and shared unapologetically amongst these seats. Pure magic.

Your mom left a piece of herself here, too. If you close your eyes you can hear her laughter spilling out into the theatre, or her lilting singing voice filling every nook and cranny like a haunting siren. She was the Crestmont's star. Ocean City's sweetheart.

There's a wall of fame in the lobby. It's covered in portraits crested with gold frames, all filled with pictures of the Crestmont's greatest performers. You've spent hours there — (turns out it's the perfect hiding spot from your manager) — fingers tracing the plaques beneath each one, all inscribed with names that townsfolk whisper with dreamy looks in their eyes. Some are black and white, some colour, but all of them depict pretty faces with beaming smiles that never seem to fade.

Not even your mom's. Her smile is pearly and bright, right above the plaque with her birthdate. And her death date.

And right there at the end, an empty frame. Your frame. You can feel it. You already know how you'll pose for your picture. Hair over one shoulder, hand on hip, smile so convincing that it'll be like every happiness in your heart is written right across your forehead proudly, and you won't have to dull it any longer.

You finish hooking a chain around the handlebars of your bike, catching sight of your reflection in the darkened windows. Staring back at you is a girl dressed in a maroon v-neck with a preppy dicky bow tied around her collar. You frown. The white shirt itches and the high waisted pants make your crotch look weird but the uniform is compulsory. The only thing uglier is the sour expression on your face, which you try to smooth out with your thumb, experimenting with plastering a sickly smile to your face instead. It might be convincing if your lips didn't strain and your eyes weren't so prone to rolling without your permission.

You need to learn to hide your emotions, your father said. You have your feelings written across your face. Customers don't like that.

It's true; customer's didn't usually like you, your unforgiving face or when you spilled cola down their blouse or spat in their popcorn. One more complaint and you were on the path to being fired once and for all, and although in some ways you would be glad to say goodbye to the stupid slushie machine that always gets stuck and the ungrateful customers and the goddamn uniform, you can't loose this job.

Not when it's your ticket to making it big. Then customers will point to your picture as they pass and clutch their chest with a snide superiority, Oh! Can you believe she served me a cola once? I always knew she was gonna make it! instead of Would it kill you to smile a little, honey?

So you swallow a sigh and make your smile as convincing as possible and march inside of the ornate theatre doors of The Crestmont, hoping that today may be the day where things finally change for once.

Where it begins

"I'm going to work!" You call as you you pull a baseball cap down over your hair to cover it's unbrushed wildness. "I won't be back for a while so don't wait up, okay Taehyung?"

You pause with your hand on the door, listening carefully for a response; the small house you live in pulsates with the bass of some indie rock album your brother and his friends are obsessed with at the moment, and your eyes roll when you peer up the staircase and find Taehyung's bedroom door firmly closed like always.

With a shake of your head you scribble out a message on a sticky note — GONE 2 WORK. — and leave it for him to read when he eventually emerges from his man cave in search of sustenance and finds you gone.

You brush away the funny ache that nestles in your stomach. This is nothing new. You're used to not being heard. Your dad is always gone for trips you suspect involve more play than work, and your older brother pretends he's not broken by hanging around with the neighbourhood cool kids and barraging himself in his room for days on end. Despite living under one roof it feels as though you're miles apart, an invisible barrier separating you indefinitely.

You weren't always like this; distant, always stepping on eggshells around each other. You were a family once. A happy one. But since the accident there's been an absence in this house, and nothing has been the same since.

Still, you know that beneath Taehyung's standoffish persona, he's still your big brother. He worries about you. So you tack the note to the fridge and make your way outside.

The lawn is already brown despite it only being late May, and summer is shaping up to be hot and sticky, though you live two blocks away from the beach so the coolness of the ocean still thankfully pervades against your perspiring skin, the gulls already calling you with their high pitched squaks from down at the shoreline.

You've barely made it to the end of the drive before there's the sound of knuckles rapping against glass. You look up and your heart jumps into your mouth. Staring back at you is a pair of dark eyes from behind the upstairs windowpane. Even from this distance you can see how they shine, deep and dark like a cup of black coffee, and you'd recognise the annoyingly cute smirk that matches them anywhere.

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Taehyung's best friend, and, unfortunately, your crush for as long as you knew what the word love meant.

"Hey, Y/N!" Your heart sinks when the window slides open and a messy head of brown hair sticks out through the gap and points at you with a pout. "You're leaving already? Without me?"

Oh; another thing about Jeon Jungkook. He's also your co-worker, which means you spend 16 hours a week in his company, much to the glee of your heart and the dismay of your conscience.

You weren't exactly surprised when you turned up to the Crestmont theatre for your first shift and were left in the capable hands of none other than Jungkook to teach you the ins and the outs of the popcorn machine and the ticket booth.

For as long as you've known him he's been somewhat of a film buff. He practically grew up holding a camera. You always used watch him and your brother making home movies in the backyard, fit with ketchup sachets for blood and endless costumes from your mom's closet. And the one time you stayed at his house when your dad went away for a while after the accident, you saw all the classic movie posters on his bedroom wall; Casablanca, Singing in the Rain, Jaws. So it made total sense for Jungkook to be at the Crestmont. In fact, you couldn't imagine him anywhere else.

That day you were mostly just surprised that he knew who you were at all. While you had spent years watching him from your bedroom window while he kicked a ball around with Taehyung or avoiding his eyes at the table when he stayed for dinner, he had never so much as glanced in your direction.

Deep down you think the reason he was so quick to take you under his wing is because he knew first hand how hard the accident hit your family. You suppose he feels he owes it to Taehyung to keep you in high spirits.

Although if you weren't you and he wasn't him, you'd swear Jungkook's attentions had become almost flirtatious as of late. He always goes the extra mile to spend time with you, and you even though you know it'll end up with you getting hurt you can't bring yourself to stop him.

You see, Jungkook has a gift for subtle charm. Like how he always sneaks you sodas out back on your lunch break, never forgetting the extra syrup — tooth rottingly sweet just how you like it — slipping one of his own dollars into the cash register to avoid a telling off from your manager. Or how he insists on helping you clean up after the theatre is empty, showing you the best secret places like down the back off seats to find misplaced trinkets and the creaky floorboard where your manager hides his cigarettes. How he insists on walking you home after the evening shift, even if he says he's going this way to see Taehyung anyway.

You've spent countless hours pondering over whether his sweet talking words mean as much to him as they do to you. And as much as you know it's unlikely for someone like Jeon Jungkook to ever have feelings for you, you can't help the way your heart speeds up every time he shoots you one of his signature bunny smiles that light up his whole face like he's happiness personified. And you can't bring yourself to hate him for it.

"I did call," you respond matter of factly, finally sucking in a breath of courage to turn around and squint up at him through the afternoon sun with a shrug. "But that trash you're listening too was too loud for you guys to hear me."

Jungkook's eyes widen as he fumbles around beneath the windowsill and pops up again holding up a shiny vinyl record sleeve. You recognise it instantly; it's from his favourite film — Submarine. He hardly ever shuts up about it.

"This is not trash. This is, like, the best movie soundtrack ever made!" He shakes his head as he takes the needle off of Taehyung's vintage record player, music ceasing with a scratch, and slips it into the sleeve with a grin. "Good thing I have it downloaded so we can listen to it on the way to work, hm?"

You roll your eyes and tap your foot impatiently, and at that, Taehyung appears behind him.

"You're leaving already?" He frowns, words directed at Jungkook even as he glances through narrowed eyes at you stood awkwardly on the front lawn.

"Yup. My shift starts in twenty." Jungkook shrugs, disappearing into the room for a second before he emerges again with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Sorry dude. I can come back afterwards though, if you want?"

Taehyung purses his lips. Even from here you can see the stress lines embedded in his forehead that make him look older than his humble age of nineteen, somehow weak unlike how you always saw him as a kid. Big and strong; untouchable; your brother.

His blunt eyes never quite meet Jungkook's as he shakes his head softly. "'S good. I was gonna try and sleep, anyway, before the sun goes down. Didn't get much shut eye last night. Not with the..."

Nightmares. Taehyung trails off, but you know that's what he's alluding to. The nightmares that turn your big strong brother into a sniffling mess in the dead of night, kicking around mercilessly until you sneak into his bed and whisper to him until he slips into slumber again. Not that you ever acknowledge it in the morning over your bowls of cereal and vacant good morning's.

"Okay." Jungkook's face momentarily falls; a rare occurrence from the boy who seems to be perpetually cheerful. He pats Taehyung on the shoulder gently. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

Taehyung just nods, letting out a yawn as he rolls into a stretch. "See ya tomorrow."

You're jolted from your thoughts when Jungkook throws his left leg out of the window, then the other, arms bulging in just the right way where they poke out of the sleeves of his plain white tee as he climbs down the drainpipe and lands with a thump on the soles of his high top sneakers.

"Hey kiddo." He grins as he wipes the palms of his hands on the thighs of his ripped jeans, before messing up your hair despite your groan of protest.

"Don't call me that. You're only a year older than me."

You're startled when you meet the pair of warm eyes that glint golden brown in the summer evening light, chest contracting as you look away and break into a fast walk towards the street.

"And you know you can just use the front door right?"

You hear him snort behind you, neglecting to use the front gate and instead launching over the fence so he lands directly in front of you on the sidewalk.

"How am I supposed to impress my best friends little sister if I can't show off my guns?" He flexes his arm, but you just brush past him with a roll of your eyes.

"You're an idiot."

You hear the clunk of his bike chain unhooking from the gate, before a set of wheels pedal up on the sidewalk beside you. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Uh, to work?" You offer bluntly, squinting at him through the sun. "You should be too, we start in fifteen minutes."

"I mean why are you walking? What happened to your bike?"

You roll your eyes. "Some tourist kids slashed the wheels at the beach."

"Shit. Really?" Jungkook tuts, but you don't miss the glint in his eye as he nods towards the pegs on the back of his bike that were made for carrying a passenger."Then I guess it's my lucky day. Hop on, we can ride together."

You come to a standstill, arms crossed tightly. "I'd rather walk."

"Oh come on!" He wiggles his eyebrows. "It'll take double the time if we go on foot, and I recall it being you who got a final late warning last week."

"If we go on foot?" You laugh breathily, determined to stand your ground. "Just go on ahead, I'm good here."

"Well, I'm not exactly going to leave you here alone on the side of the road now am I? So I'll be forced to walk with you. And I'm older than you remember? Look, I'm already out of breath! My legs aren't what they used to be, y'know."

"Fine!" With a pout you take the helmet resting in his front basket and hook it underneath your chin, biting your lip to stop a smile from gracing your lips at the excitement that lights up Jungkook's features. "But only because I want you to shut up."

"Your wish is my command." He says with a pat to your head. "Hold on tight, okay?"

And as you wrap your arms around his waist, you're sure his ears heat up a deep shade of red, even it could just be the evening light playing tricks on you.

The theatre at the Crestmont feels eerily quiet when its empty.

You know that because even though your shift was supposed to end at 5, you offered to stick around to help clean up after today's performance. Phantom of the Opera.

"Jesus," You groan as you pick up another sticky soda cup that someone had kindly spilled all over the ground for you to clean up, dropping the offender into a black trash bag. "Doesn't anyone around here know how to use a trash can?"

You fall into one of the theatre seats with a sigh and run your fingers over the scarlet velvet, worn yet plush, the texture soothing you instantly. You tilt your head back and let the silence engulf you. No orchestra, no musical numbers, no stage crew shouting directions. No whirring cotton candy machine. Just you and the stage.

From here you can see every detail on the high ceiling littered with renaissance-style paintings of mermaids and babies armed with heart shaped bow and arrows. Your mom was an actress. When you were a kid you used to spent hours staring at them while she rehearsed. You were convinced they came alive once the theatre closed up for the night, their cheeky smiles evidence of a secret only you knew.

A trail of rainbows is cast by the grand chandelier hung in the center, and it draws your attention all the way down the aisles and up to the stage.

The Crestmont is only small, fitting perhaps 200 people at most. It's hardly Broadway. But the fire in your chest ignites as you glance side to side before sidling up the creaking wooden steps that wind up to the Crestmont's center stage. Your favourite part of the whole theatre.

It's not the first time you've done this. You often like to come up here after everyone has gone home, even though you technically aren't supposed to. There's a certain magic about being alone up here as you collect the lone roses that were thrown on stage by tonight's audience. Breathing in the musty smell of butter popcorn that lingers on the velvet curtains, feel the warmth of the bright stage lights glazing your skin. Something about it feels like home.

The first time you ever saw the Crestmont stage was on tv, watching a grainy camera shakily capture your mom in the very same spot you find yourself right now.

Your mom used to have a cardboard box filled with her old audition tapes. Everything from Hamlet to A Streetcar Named Desire, she'd starred in it, and you spent hours together in front of the television set trying to memorise the way she spoke your favourite lines and listening to her lilting voice recite backstage anecdotes about her rendezvous with foreign directors who dined on her in Paris or underground parties with celebrities you had never even heard of as she stroked your hair.

It wasn't until you got a little older that you realised that, just like you, your mom was a dreamer. Sure, she'd visited a couple different states and starred in some makeup commercials once, and that was enough to make her a celebrity in a town as small as this.

But really? She was just a small town actress with dreams larger than herself and way larger than the Crestmont where she made her name. And suddenly the gaps in time where she would disappear for weeks — sometimes months — on end no longer made sense to you. If she wasn't drinking cocktails with the prince of Monaco or clubbing in London, then where was she?

"Down town with those no good roadies," Taehyung told you once. "They made all these empty promises. Told her she'd make it big if she just did what they said. But look how that turned out."

That was the day you realised your mom was a better actress than you ever knew.

She always thought that her dreams would come true. She believed it so hard that you believed it too, naively. But who knows? Maybe they would have if she didn't get into an accident on her way to New York for her big break.

It's easy to imagine how your mom felt up here. She always looked so alive and free in those VHS tapes as she danced effortlessly across the stage with an ethereal weightlessness, the theatre silent except for the melodic sweetness of her monologues that drew tears to the eyes of those who listened eagerly.

If you close your eyes you can hear the roar of the crowd, hands clapping furiously. The orchestra tuning their brass in the pit, bows melodic against strings. Flowers landing at your feet. The deep breath of satisfaction as you take your final bow and the curtain closes.

Just like that you're moving across the stage, reciting the lines you know so well...

"You're gonna be a star like me some day," A voice whispers against your ear, soft and gentle. A memory. Your mom. "Just like me."

And just like that, she's there. In the audience, clapping. For you. And you feel invincible.

The sound of applause breaks you out of your trance. Real applause. You find yourself stood center stage, broom in hand, staring out at row after row of empty seats that gape with the same emptiness that was here when you arrived.

Except one of the velvet lined seats is filled now. Right at the front.

"Encore!" Jungkook whistles, the harsh thwacks of his palms clapping together clanging inside your ears. "Do it again! That was amazing!"

Your chest seizes painfully, a sudden bout of panic turning your blood cold. You feel the colour leave your face. How long has he been here? How long has he been watching?

Jungkook is watching you attentively, eyes soft at the edges with wonder. It makes bile rise in your throat. You can't be up here. Not when there's a pair of eyes looking at you, judging.

"I..." You begin, but the words get caught in your throat.

"I can't do this."

The way Jungkook's eyes widen and he lurches forward to catch you is the last thing you see before your vision goes black.

The boardwalk is strangely quiet for a summer evening. It's happy hour so you suppose most vacationers are already in the bars in their I LOVE OCEAN CITY T-shirts drinking cocktails or whatever. Not that you're complaining.

The smell of hotdogs and vinegar from the vans that line the strip still fill the air, snatches of conversations from children begging their parents to let them go on the waltzer one last time barely audible above the tinkling bells of the carousel. The ride operators drink soda's as they fan themselves with rolled up newspapers, grateful for the gentle hubbub on such a sticky evening, and then there's you, caught up in the middle of it all.

The wooden boards of the pier are warm against he backs of your thighs. You're sat with your legs dangling through the peeling guard rail that lines the strip. It was painted pastel blue at some point but years of sea spray and grubby hands made it fade to a sickly green tinge that matches the ocean.

Speaking of, the ocean would usually be directly below your feet, murky and wild, but today the tide has receded right back to reveal a large strip of sand. The stands suspending the pier rest on top of it so that you could walk right under and around them if you wanted to. You and Taehyung used to do that all the time when you were kids. Searching for barnacles. Exploring the dark places.

"Here. Eat up. You totally passed out on me back there. You could probably do with some sugar."

The soft voice beside you is the only thing loud enough to permeate your daydreams. You don't have look up to know who it belongs to. Jungkook.

He peers down at you, sun beating down against his back. He's holding two vanilla ice cream cones, double scooped, and he thrusts one into your hands before mirroring your position at the edge of the boardwalk.

The walk down here from the Crestmont was more or less silent, and your stomach twists now you realise Jungkook wants to talk.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." You lie. The ice cream is cold and sweet and covers the bitterness. "I just think it's funny."

Jungkook's tongue sneaks out to lick up the melted cream dribbling down his cone. "What is?"

"How this place stays the same but I feel so different." You were born here, raised here. This place was your whole life once, with it's salty air and bustling casino's. But since the accident, something's been bubbling inside you, swelling and crashing like the ocean below that taunts you and you've never felt farther from home in your life as you do now, looking out over the town that just won't budge, just like the funny ache in your chest. "Forget I said it. I don't know why I'm even telling you this."

Jungkook fidgets beside you and runs a hand through his hair with a sigh."It's okay, y'know. To miss her."

Your mom. You know that's who he means. Just the mention of her stings.

"Mhm." You snort. "Tell that to my family. If we all carried on missing mom then we'd be in pretty hot shit by now."

"If it's Taehyung you're worried about, then don't be. He's stronger than he looks."

"Until he's not anymore. And we lose him again just like—" You pause. You hate how you can hear the pain in your voice so you smooth it out. "Just like before. And I can't let that happen. I won't."

Jungkook shifts. As Taehyung's oldest friend he was there for everything in the aftermath of the accident. He was there when you put on a brave face for the sake of your family. He was there when Taehyung couldn't be any more.

"That doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. Think about it this way. The ocean isn't always this calm right?" He gazes wistfully out over the ocean that swells and crashes against the shore, fingers twirling the gold chain around his neck. "Last winter when we had that huge storm, the waves were so big they smashed right through the pier support beams."

You furrow your brows. "What about it?"

"The ocean was just too much for the pier to bare and it would've come crashing down forever if half the neighborhood didn't come down to the beach in the dead of night, despite the rain, and hold it together until the storm calmed and the emergency repair boats could get to shore."

It's true. You remember how unforgiving the rain was as it pelted down against your back and froze you through to the bone that night as each and every familiar face from your neighborhood came down to the seafront to lend a hand, your family included.

Jungkook was there too. He was the one who knocked on your door in the early hours to spread the word. He got given free churros for life by one of the pier stall owners as a reward.

"What I'm trying to say Y/N, is that Taehyung has you to lean on, right? So who do you have?" Jungkook says, staring at you head on now. His sincerity almost makes you blush.

You bite your lip. Deep down you know that your beams are just as broken as Taehyung's and it's only a matter of time before they come crashing down into the water, and this time there'll be nobody to hold the pieces together.

"I don't need anyone. I'm just fine on my own. I can handle my ocean."

Jungkook brushes your hand. You flinch, so he pulls it back into his lap. "Well if you ever need a life boat, then you know where I am okay?"

You don't believe him, but he's staring at you so expectantly that you just tell him what he wants to hear. You're good at that.

"Okay." You whisper. "Okay."

Children's laughter bubbles up from the beach. You watch their distant silhouettes dancing among the waves. It's Jungkook who breaks the silence before it settles between you and becomes uncomfortable.

"Anyway, what were you doing up there on the stage today?" He smiles, like he's trying to lighten the mood. "You looked like you were having the time of your life before—"

You feel your cheeks start to burn. How long had Jungkook been watching you at the Crestmont? Had he seen the whole thing?

"It was nothing. I was just being dumb."

"Nothing?" Jungkook cocks his head to the side and punches you playfully. "It didn't seem like nothing."

"It just...it makes me feel close to my mom when I'm on the stage." You admit. "I loved watching her when I was a kid. She was always larger than life in my eyes. She had this way of making you really believe she was someone else. It was like she wasn't just acting -- she was becoming. Sometimes...sometimes I think I liked her better when she was in character."

You shake your head with a small smile. "I like me better when I'm in character. I used to dream about going to New York one day and becoming an actress just like she wanted to. Small town girl making it big in the city and all that." You scoff. "But I'm nothing like her. It's just fun to pretend sometimes."

"You're good. At performing. Like, really good." Jungkook's eyes are wide. When he places a hand on your forearm you don't shake it off this time. "You take after her. Everyone says it."

It's true. There's one photo of your mom in the house. It's in Taehyung's room. When you were younger you thought it was your face staring back at you from behind the glass. Sometimes you'll be walking down the boardwalk or serving soda's at work and you'll hear the whispers. See their heads turn. Is it her?

"Pfft. Looks mean nothing." You scoff. "She was fearless. I can't even speak in front of one person without passing out, let alone a crowd."

Realisation crosses Jungkook's face. "Oh. So that's what happened back there? Stage fright?"

"Uh huh." You roll your eyes. "So don't give me the follow your dreams spiel or whatever."

"Hmm." Jungkook uses his arms as a makeshift pillow so he can lay back against the ground. You mirror him, peering through your fingers to watch how the golden rays of the sun swallow his frame. "Remember that play they made us do in middle school?"

"The Nativity?" You raise your eyebrow. It was the first theatre production you were in, before the accident and way before you had stage fright.

"Yeah." He grins. "I was the sheep. Taehyung made fun of me for months afterwards because of that stupid costume my grandma made."

"Yeah." You snort. "You did look sorta dumb."

Jungkook bumps your arm with a playful pout that makes you giggle. "And do you remember how I forgot my lines on stage and nearly pissed myself with stage fright? God, I still remember how mad my dad looked in the front row. We'd practiced that part for weeks. I don't know why it happened. I just froze—" A small smile forms on his lips. "But you didn't. Next thing I know there's a kid in a gold star of Bethlehem costume running on stage to recite my lines for me. You stole the show, remember that? Everyone loved you."

"That was then." You murmur, but you can't suppress the smile tugging at the corners or your mouth. "I'm not the same person."

"You were a year younger than the rest of my class but you auditioned anyway, because you knew that you were the only person who could play the star. Because you were a star."

Jungkook turns so that his head rests on his elbow and you're suddenly so close you can feel his breath ghost across your cheek. Your heart pumps in your ears as you gaze dips down to his rosy lips and back up to his sparkling eyes which bore into yours.

"You still are a star."

The words echo in your ears, soft and sincere. His tongue snakes out to wet his lips. You lose your breath. And then you jump away, placing a safe distance between your bodies before you can do something you regret.

"And what about you. Are you still a sheep?" You tease, turning your face so he can't see how it burns rosy red.

"Nah. Figured out pretty quickly after that that I was better off behind the camera." He chuckles.

"Oh right. You still have that thing?" You nod to the camera in his lap. It's one of those old ones that looks like the type that needs a film reel and a projector, but it's been modified so there's a little viewfinder at the side to check the footage instead. "Can I see?"

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

"Some of the stuff you've filmed?"

"Oh! Right!" It's his turn to flush now, scratching the back of his neck as he anxiously thrusts the camera into your hands and pays close attention to the hangnail at the edge of his thumb as you watch the footage.

Your eyes widen when a familiar scene rolls out on the tiny screen. You, on stage at the Crestmont. Jungkook filmed you.

"This is..."

"You." He rushes."Yeah, I know. Sorry if this is awkward—"

"No. Not at all. I just—" You watch in awe as the you inside the camera moves across the stage with an effortless grace. How the lights make your eyes shine and your skin brighter than you remember it being in the mirror this morning. "How did you do that?"

Jungkook's forehead creases. "Do what?"

"Make me look like...that."

"I didn't do anything." Jungkook shrugs. "That's just how I see you."

You could listen to him say that all day, but you stop yourself mid swoon.

"Don't say things you don't mean."

"I do mean it. And I'll show you." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"How?"

He grabs your hand and squeezes it. Tight. "I don't know how yet but I will."

You roll your eyes. "Good luck, Jeon."

"You know I like a challenge." Jungkook laughs, and the melodic sound goes right to your chest. "I'll make you see yourself how I see you. Just wait."

"Since when did you have four wheels?" You call to Jungkook with a quirk of your brow, resting your elbows on the window ledge of the beat up truck he pulls up in outside the Crestmont.

It's a sticky August afternoon and the rusty red vehicle purrs— or more like splutters — in the parking lot as Jungkook untangles your bike from the rack and lifts it into the cargo bed like it's weightless. Just yesterday he came by with his pump and a patch to fix that goddamn slashed tyre, and now he's stealing it?

"Hey! What are you doing with my bike?"

He is clad in nothing but a white vest and board shorts, and you can see perspiration glimmering at his temples as the salty breeze blowing from the beach ruffles the dark curls that flop over his forehead.

"This is my dad's truck," His eyes flash with pride as he hops into the open drivers side door and makes the engine growl. He nods to the empty seat beside him and pushes his dark round sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, fanning his face with his hands. "And you won't be needing your bike today. Now hurry up and get in, loser. I've been waiting ages for your shift to finish and the AC is broken."

You raise a brow. "We're going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Why else would I be waiting for you to get in my truck?"

"I mean, we're going somewhere in this?" You nod towards the truck's worn tires, the fumes that wisp from the exhaust pipe like a lit cigar. "Are you sure it's safe?"

Jungkook notices the way you bite your lip. You don't even have to tell him the worries that are running through your mind. It's as if he can read them like an open book.

"Are you still scared of riding in cars?" He questions, softly.

You nod. That's what an accident does to someone. Makes them scared of something they ordinarily wouldn't even question.

"A little." The breeze ruffles your hair and you hide behind it. "I'm getting better." You add, so he doesn't feel bad because you know he does. His face tells you as much.

"It's a short drive, if that helps." He rushes. "And I asked Taehyung and he said you'd be okay, but if you aren't then I can just walk you home—"

"No." You shake your head firmly. There's a funny fizzing in your stomach that's been there ever since that day on the boardwalk, and it's only growing stronger and stronger now you're inches away from Jungkook and his warm eyes and gentle smile. You don't want it to end just yet. It's enough to outweigh the wriggling fear that's always inside you just a little. "Where are we going?"

Jungkook's face lights up and your heart flips when you realise it's because of you.

"I told you I was gonna make you see what I see, didn't I?"

"Oh that was today?" You tease. "Must have missed it it in the calendar."

"Stop asking questions! Just get in. Please?"

"Fine." You walk around to the passenger door, sliding in beside him and throwing your bag into the back seat. "But I need to be home by midnight or Taehyung will worry."

"No problemo." Jungkook salutes as he switches on the engine and the truck roars to life. You clasp your hands tightly in your lap and breathe through your nose. You're okay. You're safe."Home by midnight. It's a promise."

You gaze out of the window to stop your thoughts from running wild. Jungkook turns left, away from town and the beach and everything familiar. You watch it get smaller and smaller in the mirrors, strangely relieved. Strangely excited.

"Now will you tell me where we're going?" You ask.

"Nope." Jungkook chuckles when you pout. "Just sit back. Relax. Take in the view. Listen to the music."

He leans across the dash, making a point to keep his eyes on the road as he fiddles with the stereo. A familiar string of guitar chords fill the truck. You recognise them, even if vaguely. Probably from Taehyung's vast collection of records.

"The Beatles right?" You ask, resting your chin on your knee as you dare to take a peek at him, blushing when you find him already staring at you.

"Pfft, yeah. Of course it's The Beatles! Only their greatest soundtrack, like, ever."

You shrug. "I've never listened to them before, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on? You haven't seen A Hard Day's Night?" His eyes widen when you shake your head. "Super Fly? Pulp Fiction? Purple Rain?"

You stifle a giggle at the look of pure shock he's sending you. "Nope. Should I have?"

"Absolutely!" He splutters. Passion shines in his eyes. "You're missing out on some of the greatest cinematography known to man!"

"I guess you have a lot to fill me in on, then."

"I sure do." His eyes soften. "Open the glove box."

You open it. Inside you find an assortment of cassette tapes, old and new. You send him a curious look.

"Close your eyes and choose one." He nods. "Go on."

You do as he says and shut your lids tightly, feeling around until your fingers curl around a tape you're strangely drawn to. When you open your eyes you find a worn box in your palm, yellow at the edges, and you're momentarily disappointed until Jungkook hums in approval beside you.

"Good choice! Dirty Dancing. A classic." He takes it from you and slides the tape into the stereo. It crackles a little before the music starts. "Trust me, you'll love it."

The stereo tracklist flashes amber. 01: Do You Love Me?

"You broke my heart 'cause I couldn't dance," Jungkook sings along in a deep voice, eyebrows bouncing as you loll your head to the side to send him an eye roll. "And now I'm back to let you know I can really shake 'em down!"

The song starts, all vibrant guitar and drums. It has a funky 60's groove, like it belongs in a swing dancing club instead of on the highway at sunset. It's a happy song and you think it suits Jungkook just right.

Speaking of Jungkook, he starts to bob his head in time with the beat, fingertips tapping in rhythm against the steering wheel. He looks adorably dorky, losing himself to the song, like he's forgotten you're even sat beside him.

"You look like an idiot." You deadpan, though you can't cover the laugh that escapes you as he sings along louder.

"No, I look like I'm having fun!" Jungkook rolls down the window and turns up the music so loud he has to shout for you to hear him. "Don't you ever do this? Just give in to the music for a while? Let your body do what it wants?"

"Uh, no. I prefer to just listen." You shout back. "Besides, your body should be focused on driving this car right now--"

"Oh come on! Just try it."

"Try it?" You blink, stomach suddenly knotting."Like now? In front of you?"

"Well duh. Look. Copy me."

He starts to shake his shoulders from side to side, fingers clicking as he nods for you to do the same.

"I...okay." You start to copy, but you catch yourself in the rear view mirror and you just look stiff compared to how effortlessly Jungkook moves to the rhythm.

"See you're doing it!" Jungkook grins, throwing his head back. "Feels good huh?"

"Kinda..." You have to admit there is something liberating about just letting go. "Like this?"

Your knees volunteer themselves to the beat, and then your arms, and before you know it you've got your eyes closed, hair whipping around your face as you speed down the interstate

"That's it. Feel the music!"

Before you know it, the song ends and you realise all at once that you're laughing. Loud and free, enough to make your belly hurt. Jungkook is too, the sound better than any song you've ever heard, and neither of you can seem to stop.

"Oh my god." You pant, covering your face with your fingers, embarrassed. "Now we both look like idiots."

"Don't hide from me." Jungkook bites his lip. You're suddenly aware of how close he is. His arms grab your wrists, pulling them away from your face, but he doesn't drop the one closest to him. Instead he links your fingers and uses your shared grip to change the gear as he turns down a winding road.

"I'm shy." You say, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

"Why? You're beautiful." Jungkook puts the car into park. You realise all at once that you've been driving for ages and you didn't even panic once. "Besides, we've arrived. And you're not gonna wanna miss seeing this."

The destination Jungkook seems so excited about turns out to be a concrete parking lot.

"Where are we, Jungkook?" You ask, looking around but finding nothing but tyre tracks and dirt.

Jungkook has already hopped out of the drivers side, sliding over the hood of the car to tug open your door with a quirk of his brow.

He holds out his palm, upturned and calloused. "Do you trust me?"

You bite your lip, heart pounding. Do you trust him?

Your body speaks for you and you slide your hand into his. His thumb traces your knuckles reassuringly.

"Yes." You breathe. "I trust you."

"Good."

You yelp when an arm wraps around your waist and hoists you out of the car, tightly interlocked fingers blocking your vision like a makeshift blindfold. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

"Okay." You giggle, feet stumbling as you try to find your balance with the help of a sturdy hand beneath your elbow.

Jungkook hums gently beneath his breath as he guides you up a path that turns from concrete to loose rock to dampened grass beneath the soles of your beat up sneakers. There's a voice in the back of your mind that tells you to be nervous; who knows where he could be taking you right now.

But as you breathe in the musty notes of his cologne and feel your heart flutter in your chest when he comes to a stop and rests his chin on your shoulder, just close enough to feel his laugh ghost across your neck, you don't care where in the world you are right now as long as it's beside him.

"Now, open."

The sun is startlingly bright when you open your eyes for the first time and see the vibrant meadow that stretches as far as you can see.

Wait — that's not the sun. It's sunflowers. Clusters of them, cheerfully waving with the breeze from where you stand on the path that continues for a few steps before it disappears among their stems.

The sunflowers are a burst of golden colour against the fading green of the meadow, and the horizon beyond that which boasts the silhouette of beach rock against the soft blue of the ocean at sunset. There's tracks here and there where the uncut grass is trampled, like some children had played hide and seek.

You reach out a hand and brush your fingertips over the velvety petals; breathe in the botanical scent of the fresh sunny blooms that dances through the meadow. It's breathtaking, you think. There's no coordination, just freedom choreographed by the wind as the tall stems sway back and forth in their gentle dance.

Before you know it you've taken off into a run, grinning with childlike glee when the tall grass tickles your nose and the sun whispers against your neck.

"Jungkook, this place is—"

"Beautiful right?" You nod breathlessly, blushing deeply when you come to a stop and find him staring right at you. He squeezes your hand and that's when you notice your fingers are still interlinked. "I come here a lot. When I need to think."

"How did you find this place?"

"Taehyung and I stumbled upon it a few summers ago by accident." He says. "Nobody knows about it. It's our secret."

"It's so beautiful." You whisper. "The whole world needs to see this."

Jungkook kicks at a stone with the toe of his boot. "I kinda like it being a secret. This place...is special to me."

"Then why...." The words get caught in your throat. You swallow and try again. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you the things I find most beautiful. Remember?"

"The sunflowers?"

"Well yeah..." He scratches the back of his neck. Swallows thickly, like he's preparing himself. "But I was thinking of something a little different..."

You close your eyes, a smile appearing on your lips as you let the crisp breeze caress your face. "Then what?"

There's a sharp click of a shutter, and when your lashes flutter open in surprise, Jungkook is shaking a Polaroid picture back and forth, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Hey! Give me that—" You reach for the Polaroid, stomach churning with a sudden shyness that makes you hug your arms.

"Just — don't do that okay?" He holds it out of reach, pleading with his eyes. "Please."

"Do what?"

"Give up on what makes you happy just because you're scared." His palm cups your cheek. "You said it yourself. Being in front of the camera is where you belong. Don't you see that?"

"I'm not scared." You feel the heat rise in your cheeks when Jungkook sends you a knowing look. "Okay maybe I am scared. And so what if I am? You've already given me the face your fears spiel and I told you. I'm perfectly happy avoiding every camera known to man for the rest of my life if it means I never have to face them."

"But you've already faced one of your fears today. You got in my car, remember?" He raises an eyebrow, smug. "Well, two technically, 'cause you're here with me now and I know how nervous you used to get around me--"

"Did not!"

"Do too! Every time we talk outside of work you get all shy and--"

"Shut up."

"See! You're doing it right now!"

You don't know what compels you to do it. Maybe it's the heat rising in the apples of your cheeks or the way your heart quickens when Jungkook closes the gap between you, but before you can stop yourself you're reaching up and grasping his face with both hands.

"Oh just shut up and kiss me, doofus."

The smug smirk on Jungkook's face is replaced with wide eyed surprise, his lips falling still for a moment when yours crash against his. But then his steady hands find your waist and he supports you on your tip toes so he can pull you ever closer, melting into the plush press of your lips.

When you pull back, you're smiling. You can't help it. You've been dreaming of this moment since, like, middle school. And goddamn, he even tastes how you imagined. Like black coffee and toothpaste.

"See." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Happiness suits you."

"Whatever, Jeon." You smirk. "Don't let it go to your head, but it's thanks to you."

Jungkook flashes you the biggest bunny grin you've ever seen, eyes sparkling at your words.

"Wait...stay like that." He reaches for his camcorder in his backpack and points the lens at you. The smile falls from your lips. You place a hand on his arm, grip tighter than you intended.

"Jungkook stop."

"What's wrong? Just keep smiling like that, the shot was perfect—"

"I don't know what to do." You shrug, the lens boring into you like a judgy aunt at Thanksgiving dinner. "The camera makes me nervous."

"Just pretend I'm not here."

You sniff. "I don't want you to not be here..."

"Listen," Jungkook cups your face, thumbs tracing your cheeks fondly. "The reason I brought you here? It's because this place reminds me of you. Beautiful."

"Jungkook--"

"Just like you said, the world needs to see this place. Just like they need to see you."

"I..." Your heart is on the verge of exploding, you would swear it. "Okay." The word rolls off your tongue before you can stop it because somehow you trust him. And deep down, there's still that fizz of excitement mixing in with all the nervousness. The Jungkook Effect. You don't want to lose it to the darkness like everything else.

"I'll try. Just-- don't laugh at me okay?"

"You have my word, sarge." He salutes with a thoughtful grin. "Hold on a sec. I know exactly what you need to get you going."

Jungkook jumps to his feet and you watch with your chin tucked between your knees as he jogs down the rocky path and opens all four of the truck doors, even the trunk, before his head disappears into the vehicle and the same pumping bass from earlier starts blasting into the quiet serene of the sunflower field.

"There," He grins as he returns, out of breath, and sits back down beside you cross legged, holding his camcorder to his eye. "Now do what you were doing before again, but over there. Just pretend you're on stage at the Crestmont, okay?"

You feel the music wash over you and the urge to move hits you like a wave. Jungkook nods encouragingly and there's something in his eyes that flips a switch inside you. And for the first time in a long time, all the passion and spirit and feeling inside you fizzes up to the top and you can't contain it any longer.

"That's it!" Jungkook calls, shutter clicking uncontrollably. "I knew you could do it!"

An oak tree provides sun-flecked shade, a cool sanctuary from the sun that sets on the horizon and splashes the sky's canvas magenta.

Jungkook laid out a checkered blanket from the trunk of his truck which you both lay upon, shoulders pressed together as close as humanly possible, surrounded by your devoured picnic consisting of his mom's fruit punch and bags of snacks he took from the concession stand at the Crestmont when nobody was looking.

"Holy shit, Y/N." He says through a mouthful of popcorn, jabbing his finger at his favourite shot of you in front of the sunflowers. "This is what I've been saying! You're a natural in front of the camera."

"No, you're amazing, Jungkook." You feel for his hand. It's funny how natural it feels already when his pinky links with yours. "Behind the camera."

"You think?" He chews his lip, eyes searching yours for approval.

"I know. You should do something with these. People need to see them."

"I'm thinking of becoming a filmographer, actually"

"Like at the pier?" You think of the tacky photo booth that overlooks the sea in town, fit with all the silly cardboard cut outs that tourists come and take a photo with for a dollar.

"No, I mean a real filmographer." He shrugs, and you're sure there's a trace of a blush on his cheeks. "Y'know. Movies and stuff."

You nod. It makes sense for Jungkook to spend his life with a camera glued to his right hand. You can't imagine Jungkook anywhere else, and you have to ignore the sinking feeling that comes with the realisation that he would eventually leave Ocean City -- and you -- behind for the big screen.

"Well you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

"My lucky star." Jungkook smiles.

"Always."

He must see the sadness brimming inside you, his body shuffling closer so your knees brush. It's reassuring somewhat.

"Actually...there's something I should tell you."

He shifts under your gaze. The nerves rush back. "What is it?"

"I guess I finished writing my first screenplay..."

"That's like a movie script, right?" You ask eagerly, and he nods. "That's great, Kook!"

"Yeah, it's great it's just --" He pauses, and clutches your hand tighter like he's scared what he says next will make you let go forever. "It's about you."

You pale. "M-me?"

"I mean, it's about you and...and Taehyung! And your mom." Jungkook rushes. "I was inspired by your story at the boardwalk and it just happened! I'm sorry, I know you probably hate me now and think I'm crazy but--"

"Burn it." You deadpan.

Jungkook blinks. "W..what?"

"I said burn it." You pull his hand into your lap and he lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't hate you, Kook. I just think you were right earlier when you said I need to face my fears. And the only way I can do that is by forgetting my past. The last thing I need is a whole freaking movie about it."

He joins in with your strained chuckles. "Sure you aren't mad?"

"Not mad." You assure with a smile.

"Then I'll burn it."

You avoid his gaze shyly. "I'm kinda honoured you wrote about me, though." You admit.

"I guess...I guess I could call you my muse." Jungkook blurts hurriedly. His nose is a deep shade of pink and it makes you want to tease him forever.

"Yeah." You nod to yourself with a smile. "I like that. Your muse."

And then his lips are on yours again, like he can't quite help himself, and you start to forget where yours begin and his end.

This time it's not delicate and sweet. It's slow and languid, hot and heavy. The sunflowers break your fall, Jungkook's lips never leaving yours as he climbs on top of you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other planted beside your head so that his chest hovers above yours. You're almost certain he can feel how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, but you don't care, too lost in the bliss of finally feeling Jungkook's plush lips against your own.

"Come to New York with me." He says breathlessly between kisses, and your heart stops.

"What?" You can hardly drag your lips away from his but you have to be sure you heard him right. New York?

"I mean, in the future. I'm gonna go to New York. Get a job at a film production company or something, I don't know--" He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Come with me."

"I...I can't."

"Why?" He frowns. "Is it me?"

"No! God no."

"Then why? You said it was your dream right?" You nod. "So what's stopping you?"

"I..I have to take care of Taehyung, and my job at the Crestmont and--"

"Okay. Lets pretend none of that exists. It's just you and me." His breath ghosts against your forehead. "Y/N, will you come to New York with me?"

"Yes." It comes out breathless, but you mean it. With every atom and nerve and fiber in your body. "Lets go to New York."

Where things change.

3 years later.

A postcard sits on the Welcome Home! Doormat you and Jungkook bought before you left for New York. You recognise the picture perfect image of Ocean City on the front, and Taehyung's messy scrawl on the back that tells you he's doing fine at his new management job at the Crestmont and he will be sending a housewarming gift imminently.

— Stay smiling, Y/N. Miss you already! Taehyung. :)

With a small smile you tack it onto the bare fridge. It brightens up the empty kitchen somewhat, a little piece of home and a reminder that you don't need to worry about leaving your brother behind to fend for himself so much any more. Since he pulled his life together and got a job at the theatre, it's like he came alive again. Found his purpose.

Speaking of purposes, you suppose that's how you found yourself here. In your very own apartment in a nice complex on the east side. The east side of New York City.

There's a pair of satin curtains hung over the balcony doors, probably left behind by the old tenant as it's the only form of furniture in the whole apartment. They rustle in the morning breeze and you tiptoe across the room barefoot to rip them open, letting your eyes flutter shut when the early morning sun filters through the glass and cascades over your face like a warm embrace.

You press a hand to the glass, studying your reflection; the messy lump of hair atop your head, the soft shadow of your lashes atop your cheeks. And beyond it, New York. Your new normal in all it's familiar glory from your dreams, yet still so deliciously foreign it makes your heart leap whenever a cab horn rings out in the distance or you breathe in the smell of fresh bagels from the shop down the street.

Home. You could finally call it that now. But New York is just a city and this apartment is just a house. The real reason you get to call this place home is because of who you came here with.

Jungkook.

You've been dating for two and a half years by now. He let you borrow one of his old much-too-big t-shirts to sleep in last night. There's a hole in the shoulder and the hem brushes your knees but it's warm and smells like his cologne and your heart expands when you close your eyes and remember this is just the beginning. You have so much to do, so many things to see here in New York. So many things to learn. And there's nobody you would want to explore life with more than Jungkook.

His camera equipment lays in a cardboard box by your feet, and something compels you to take out the old-school camcorder he loves. The leather strap tightens perfectly around your hand and the red RECORD button flashes as you open the doors wide and lift the lens to take in the view. Something tells you you're gonna want to remember this moment forever.

It's not long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, chin tucked cheekily into your shoulder. "There you are." Jungkook husks, stilly groggy with sleep as his lips ghost across your cheek.

Turning around in his grasp, you find him still shirtless, sweatpants slung low around his hips. He's been working out recently, and you can't deny you don't love how firm his shoulders feel when you brace yourself on them to stand on your tip toes and leave a peck to his lips.

"Morning sleepyhead," you say, running your fingers through the strands of his silky bed hair. It's longer these days, whispering across the nape of his neck and falling across his round eyes sweetly. They flutter closed when you massage his scalp just how he likes it. "I was wondering when you'd finally get out of bed."

"Missed you." His lips turn up when he sees the camera pointed at his face. "Whaddya doing with that?"

"Making memories." You say simply, zooming in on him as he rubs his sleepy eyes. "So we never forget this."

A cheeky smirk appears on his lips as he wraps you in his arms, a surprised giggle leaving you when he spins you around and grabs the camera so he can point it at the both of you, his chin resting on your shoulder now as his bare arm snugly wraps around your waist.

"Hey stop! I just woke up, I look bad!"

"Hello us of the future," Jungkook chuckles, pulling your fingers away from your face when you bury your face in his chest to hide from the lens. "It's our first day in New York and Y/N is being all camera shy--okay, okay fine, lets show them the view instead!"

Jungkook finally flips the lens around so it focuses on the distant silhouettes of tall skyscrapers skimming the blue skyline, before he turns it back onto you guys once more with a mischievous look this time.

"But we have to go now because we have far more interesting business to attend to..." He lowers the camera as his lips start to trail up your collar bone and he smiles when your eyes flutter shut and you gasp at the feeling, but it's quickly replaced by a pout when you wriggle out of his embrace with a stern look.

"Not now. Later."

"Mmf? Why?" He whines, making grabby hands towards you. "You're so warm, jus' wanna cuddle for a bit."

"No time!" You call over your shoulder as you grab him by the hand and drag his heavy feet behind you. "We've got an apartment to decorate."

Before you know it you've enlisted Jungkook's help in laying tarps across the living room floor, two pots of bright white paint plonked in the center. It's not like you could afford a decorator after all. You are two broke twenty-something's trying to make it big in New York, and all that cliche stuff. So you would just have to do it yourselves.

Jungkook's over in the corner, miming along to the guitar solo from some rock song playing from the radio balanced on the windowsill, the paint roller his instrument as he dances around the room with giddy impulse. There's paint all over his butt where he accidentally leaned against one of the wet walls and he's got his hair tied back into a bun at the crown of his head and you watch him out of the corner of your eye while an affectionate smile creeps onto your face no matter how hard you try to curb it.

That's when you notice the camera in his other hand. He zooms in on the stepladder in the corner, the paint spillage in the hall, the heart with Y/N + JUNGKOOK FOREVER written inside it on the back wall. Documenting everything as usual.

He was always filming you, too. Whether you were making coffee in the morning or drying your hair. He'd even slow down beside you on the sidewalk to get the perfect shot.

You find it cute, even though you pretend to hate it. It makes your heart flutter every time you catch him rewinding the footage with a contented smile on his face, like he just captured the whole world with his lens.

It's no surprise when you finish putting the final coat on the wall and step back to admire your handy work that you find him wandering around the apartment with his hand curved around the lens of one of his bigger cameras like it's natural to him. You always joke that thing is like an extra limb, but he looks so calm as he looks through his lens at the room that is now drunk on the afternoon sun pouring through the window, the golden rays like honey on his skin, that it's easy to see that the camera really is a part of him. Passion lies in the soft lines of concentration on his face, in the plump lip tugged between teeth as he fiddles with the settings.

Jungkook sees beauty where others don't, where others can't. It might as well pump through his veins. And it's one of the reasons you love him so much.

You shake your head when you see how a small smile finds his lips when he leans a shoulder against the door frame and lets the camera land on the thing he swears is most beautiful.

"Hey." You warn, shooting a side wards glare at the camera lens you spot Jungkook not so discreetly pointing in your direction. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" He runs a hand through his hair, lips pulling back into a sly bunny smile when you bend down to reach a spot you missed at the bottom of the wall. "I'm not doing anything."

Your upper lip twitches. "Are you zooming in on my ass?"

"What? No!" Jungkook scrunches his nose with wide eyes, a habit you knew meant he was guilty, a pout forming on your lips as he snaps the viewfinder closed and shoves the offending piece of his equipment behind his back.

You narrow your eyes affectionately. "Perv."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He blows a strand of hair out of his face innocently but there's a playful glint in his eyes and you can hardly keep a serious face as you plant your hands on your hips in what you hope is a menacing manner.

"Then lemme see it." You challenge with a nod to the camera behind him.

He feigns indifference, cocking his head to the side like an overgrown puppy. "See what?"

"That's it!" You shake your head, charging towards and him making grabby motions towards the camera. Jungkook looks down at you fondly as he holds it above your head, out of reach, and it only makes you you pout harder. "Hey! Give it!

"Never!" You jump pitifully, fingers grasping around nothing. A melodic chuckle spills from Jungkook's lips when you cross your arms over your chest in defeat and blink up at him crossly. "You have to say the magic word first."

You scoff at the teasing look on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows and waves the camera just above your head, before an idea strikes you and within seconds you're wielding a paintbrush, Jungkook's eyes widening when you point the paint coated bristles at his face.

"Give it up." You hold out your palm with a smug look. "Or the walls are not the only thing getting a fresh coat."

"You wouldn't." He smirks, despite being backed into a corner now.

"Oh yeah?" Without further ado you swipe the brush down the bridge of his nose, swallowing a giggle at the white smudge it leaves behind and his shocked expression beneath it. "You underestimate me, Jeon."

Jungkook pushes his tongue into his cheek, eyes dancing up and down your body before they lock with yours daringly. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Or what?" You taunt playfully, a laugh escaping you, but you quickly bite down on your lip when you see the glint in Jungkook's eyes as he submerges both his hands into the nearby bucket of paint.

You don't run when he steps closer. Instead your breathing quickens, heart doing a funny somersault when he brushes your hair to the side and clamps both of his wet hands on the sides of your jaw to bring your face up to his.

He tastes like coffee and desire when your lips crash together in a delicious tangle of teeth and tongue, all the thoughts racing through your mind dripping away like honey until all that's left is the thump of your heart against your chest and Jungkook's warmth as he backs you up against the wall.

When he pulls away he rubs his paint covered nose against yours, cocking his head and smiling sweetly when he leans back and admires his handy work.

"You have paint on your face." He looks down at his white hands innocently with a shrug. "Whoops?"

His hands trail down to your hips. You reach to your side and grab a fistful of paint, wiping it down the centre of his face and giggling when he groans and scrunches his eyes closed . "So do you."

"Okay, that's it. This means war!" Jungkook growls, strong arms wrapping around your waist, and before you know it you're stumbling over to the mattress in the corner, Jungkook's body hovering over yours.

"You wanna play dirty, huh?" Desire-filled eyes trace your face, travelling down the expanse of your neck before zeroing in on your collar bones. You gasp when Jungkook's lips attach themselves to the sensitive skin, every inch of you set alight when his burning fingers slide beneath the hem of your tshirt and find your thighs. "Always being such a bad girl, huh?"

"So? What're you gonna do about it? Punish me?" You say teasingly, and he stiffens, lips leaving a mark behind on your neck with a pop. Jungkook's narrowed eyes meet yours and you feel your heart speed up with anticipation.

His lips twitch, like they're dying to turn up. "Brat."

With that, you're being flipped over onto your knees with a yelp. Jungkook's hands work quickly and before you know it your tshirt is over your head and the sudden breeze from the open balcony doors against your hardened nipples makes you gasp.

"You love it." You laugh breathily.

"Too much," Jungkook confirms, before his large palm presses you down into the bed firmly between the shoulder blades so that your ass is thrust up in the air. You wiggle is teasingly, though the breath catches in your throat when the first spank lands on your bare skin. Then a second, the sound ringing out through the empty room like an echo and making a damp spot appear on your panties.

"Hey!" You chastise when you remember the paint on his hands that just left two glaring handprints right across your ass.

Jungkook just smirks. "What? Now everyone knows it's mine."

A third slap and you have to bite the blanket to stop from groaning, then a fourth, and a fifth and by then your eyes are watering but in the best way. Calloused hands smooth over the burning area, soothing it.

"Good girl," A raspy voice whispers next to your ear. "Such a good girl for me, taking your punishment. I think you deserve your reward now, hm?"

"Please." You moan as he reaches around to grasp your breast, tweaking your nipples in a way that has you writhing beneath him.

"Don't say I didn't warn you though," Jungkook chuckles as he rips your panties down your legs, gasping at the sight of your dripping slit like it's the first time. He runs a finger down your folds, biting back a groan when it makes your legs fall open a little further, desperate for his touch. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

"Jungkook, what do you-- oh!." Before you can finish, Jungkook is pushing your face back into the comforter, spreading your cheeks with his palms and licking an agonizingly slow stripe up your throbbing core. His tongue finds your clit easily, toying it with the tip playfully until you're gasping for air.

"Mmf, tastes so good." He murmurs against your folds, the vibrations of his chuckle making you moan so hard your legs start to shake. His tongue finds your hole, swirling around teasingly before it slips inside and you can't handle it anymore.

"Jungkook!" You gasp, reaching behind to grab his hair. "I..I can't-"

"You can." He says, almost a command, mouth leaving your pussy only so he can slide over onto his back and pull you back down onto his face by the hips.

"Oh g-god!" Your hand reaches for the headboard, landing on the wall to steady yourself when you remember you still haven't bought a bed frame yet. Your legs are starting to ache from holding yourself up but you don't care, too lost in the feeling of Jungkook's tongue lapping at your swollen folds as you grind in lazy circles on his face.

"C-close, Kook." You manage to splutter, head thrown back with pleasure when he slides two of his fingers inside you and starts to pump in time with his tongue, the sensation of being filled enough to send you over the edge into a shuddering climax that is unlike anything you've felt before, the only thought on your mind the way your hole clenches around your boyfriend's fingers.

It takes a few moments for your legs to stop shaking, your hearing slowly coming back into focus as you hear both of your heavy breaths intermingled. You look between your legs to find Jungkook staring up at you with a grin, eyes filled with wonder. His chin gleams with your juices, the front of his t-shirt damp as you realise with a gasp what just happened.

"Did I--?"

"Yup."

"Holy fuck." You swing your leg over his shoulder so you're beside him, Jungkook sitting up to look at you, still mesmerised. "I...I'm sorry, that was--"

"The hottest thing you've ever done." Jungkook finishes, grinning at you like he just won the lottery.

You raise a brow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Can I fuck you now?"

You can't help but laugh at his eager puppy dog eyes, hands practically twitching at his sides to touch you. A quick glance at his crotch confirms the biggest tent in his pants you've ever seen, and you crook a finger towards him with a sultry smile and a nod.

"Let's see if you can make me do that again."

"O-Okay!" Jungkook pulls his shirt over his head eagerly, and then he's on top of you, burning skin meeting burning skin. Your palm runs down his chest, Jungkook's eyes falling shut when it reaches the hem of his sweatpants. You cant help but gasp when your fingers wrap around his length through his boxers, core already throbbing again to be filled. He shivers when your finger circles his tip, admiring the wet patch on his boxers.

"Eager?" You smirk.

"You squirted on my face, Y/N, of course I'm goddamn eager."

"Get these off then." You tug at his pants and he kicks them off without a second telling.

"Your wish is my command."

When he returns to hovering over you, both completely bare now, he pauses. His eyes meet yours, a gentle smile appearing on his lips as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear and grips your jaw protectively.

"I love you, y'know."

You close the distance between you, pressing your lips against his but barely able to keep yourself from grinning with the elation swirling in your chest. "I love you too, doofus. Now hurry up or I'm gonna have to fuck myself."

"That sounds kinda awesome--"

"Kook!"

"Okay, okay, on it!"

Palms spread your legs, and you both gasp when Jungkook runs the blunt head of his leaking cock up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices before he lines it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He checks, thumb tracing circles into your inner thigh.

"As I'll ever be."

And with that, he pushes inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck with a sigh of relief at finally feeling your walls clenching around his throbbing length. The stretch of his girth stings, but it makes you feel so deliciously full, so perfectly whole to be connected to Jungkook like this that all you can get out is another soft I love you that earns a blissful smile from your boyfriend as he starts to move.

Each stroke makes you lose your breath, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot just right. It's when Jungkook takes your nipple into his mouth that you feel a second orgasm start to build, one hand gripping the sheets as the other drags scratch marks down his muscular back in blissful agony.

It's not long before Jungkook spills inside you with a deep growl, your own high hitting you as you feel him coat your walls. He collapses onto your chest, breaths deep and exhausted, and wraps you in his arms before you can even catch your breath.

Jungkook pulls the sheets up over your shoulders and places a kiss to the top of your head. He's so warm you feel yourself start to drift off into a blissful sleep, the smile on your lips never faltering.

"I love you too." Is the last thing you hear him say before sleep takes you under, and you're safe wrapped up in each other's arms.

When you open your eyes, the room is warm with sunset's rose tinted blush, and Jungkook's body is no longer beside you. Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sit up on your elbow and find him on the ground in front of the freshly painted wall, intricate petals and stems flowing from the end of the paintbrush he delicately waves across the surface to paint the prettiest sunflower you've ever seen.

"I'm home!" You hear your boyfriend yell out as he shuffles into the apartment, quickly followed by a yelp. "Hey, Gureum, stop trying to lick my face!"

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your features when a ball of white fluff comes bounding into the living room, the puppy that excitedly jumps into your arms tracking a trail of muddy paw prints over the script in your hands.

"Hey Gureum," You coo, scratching him behind the ears where you know his sweet spot is. "You're such a good boy, huh?"

"Don't praise him! He totally ran away from me in Central Park and I had to chase him all the way home!" You can practically hear Jungkook's eye roll, shaking your head fondly at the mock annoyance in his voice. It was Jungkook who begged you to adopt a puppy for months in the first place, and they've been more or less inseparable ever since — the little guy hardly ever leaves his side. It's safe to say Jungkook is definitely Gureum's favourite.

The smell of coffee and fresh bagels wafts through the apartment, a warm sensation settling in your stomach as your boyfriend rounds the corner and waves a brown paper bag.

"Still got us enough coffee to stay up all night learning lines though." Jungkook grins, dumping the contents onto the coffee table and raising his eyebrows when your hands dart straight for the chocolate cookies. "Speaking of learning lines, how is it going, pretty?"

He nods towards the script in your hand. It's worn at the edges and ferociously dog eared from all the nights you have stayed up until sunrise reciting the words littered across the pages over and over, until it's like your lips are moving by muscle memory and the words are a part of you.

After what felt like hundreds of failed auditions, you had started to lose hope. With every letter that landed on the porch with another SORRY or MAYBE NEXT TIME, you felt all the confidence in the dream you worked so hard to uncover start to dwindle.

But Jungkook was always there, by your side no matter what. Encouraging you when you forgot your lines or holding you when you didn't get the callback. Reminding you to eat whenever you were too absorbed in your work to cook or cheering you on from the crowd at your weekly improv performances.

It was Jungkook who cried with you when the director of the small theatre downtown called and gave you the lead part in his upcoming stage production. Your big break. And you were determined to make sure everything ran smoothly at opening night tomorrow, which is how you find yourself snuggled up on the couch rewinding your VHS copy of Dirty Dancing over and over again until you have every word memorised by heart.

"Pretty good." You say as you pop a salted peanut into your mouth while Jungkook slips out of his tweed jacket. He's been trying to dress more New-York-ish these days, or so he says. More dress pants and less sweats. "Final rehearsals start at five."

"Aren't you nervous?" Jungkook squishes into the space beside you, Gureum cuddling up between your bodies.

Tomorrow night's show is sold out, along with every night after that for the next week. You heard there were going to be at least 700 people there each night.

"Terribly." You admit, stomach churning at the thought of 700 pairs of eyes staring right at you. You try to focus on the fizzing excitement that lingers there too, growing stronger and stronger. "But I think I'm more excited".

"I'm excited to see you up there doing what you love." Jungkook smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "My star."

"Well don't get too excited because I still keep messing up this one goddamn scene," You flip the script to a page covered in bright highlighter scribbles and run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. "I'm totally gonna mess it up and then I'll never get another job and—"

"Shhh," Jungkook takes the script from your hands and runs his eyes over it quickly. "Don't talk like that. You're gonna be amazing — hold up..." He raises an eyebrow. "Is this...the kiss scene?"

You feel your cheeks redden, voice small. "Yes."

"Then you're in luck because who better to help you practice than the best kisser in all of New York?"

You snort. "Wow, I sure could use some of your expertise Good-Sir-Makes-Out-A-Lot."

"Then you're in the right place..." He runs his finger over the script, jabbing at one line in particular.

[Johnny and Baby kiss.]

"Let's start here, hm? For practice, obviously."

"For practice." Your eyes roll but your heart still beats a little faster as he closes the space between you, hand pressing into the wall so his sturdy body hovers over yours, hands instinctively pulling him closer by the collar.

"Come give me a kiss, m'lady..." Jungkook murmurs, but before he can tilt your chin up towards his lips there's a sudden series of frantic knocks at the front door.

"What the heck?"

You both jump out of your skin, Jungkook's eyes narrowing as he glances over his shoulder at the shadowy figure outside, fist pounding the glass fervently, like they're trying to break it down.

"Okay, damn, I'm coming!" He yells with a roll of his eyes. He wraps the blanket around your shoulders as he hops up from the couch with a sigh. "Probably just some dumb marketer again or something — dude, chill! I said I'm coming! — be right back."

The lock slides open and you hear Jungkook gasp. Your stomach drops. "Who is it?"

"Uh, Y/N..." You hear the door click shut and the sound of squeaky shoes shuffling inside. The anxiety in Jungkook's voice makes your heart skip. "You might wanna come see this."

"Huh?" Your legs feel shaky as you follow him out into the hall, chest seizing when you lay eyes on the dripping wet hair and chattering teeth of the shivering man stood before you, eyes dark and grave like they used to be.

"Taehyung?" You splutter, ripping the blanket from around your shoulders and swaddling him in it as quickly as you can, Jungkook already bounding into the other room to get dry clothes and towels after shooting you a terrified glance.

Taehyung grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace. His cheeks are wet against your shoulder, but you can't tell if it's because he's been crying or because he's been out in the freezing cold rain — hold on, did he walk here?

"Y/N," He murmurs frantically, eyes darting back and forth but never quite focusing on anything. You knew this look. This is how he looked that day you found out about the accident. Murky, far far away. Devastatingly sad. Something wasn't right.

"What is it?" You ask, pulling him into the living room and sitting him on the couch before his shaking knees buckle beneath him. "What are you doing here, Tae?"

"It's...it's the Crestmont." He whispers.

"What about the Crestmont?" Jungkook appears behind Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but it's like your brother doesn't even feel it.

"They're tearing it down." He mumbles. "They're tearing down the Crestmont. Forever."

"Okay, now let's start from the beginning."

Jungkook's calm voice lilts from beside Taehyung who, after a warm shower and two cups of cocoa, has stopped shivering and seems to be ready to talk.

A hand reaches across the coffee table to tug on your wrist mid-lift to your mouth, a reminder from Jungkook to stop biting your nails. An old nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in Ocean City but apparently more than just Taehyung showed up here unannounced tonight.

"I...I got a call this morning." Taehyung begins, pausing to take a sip from the mug he cradles in his lap. His hands are shaking so he places it on the coffee table for safe keeping, right beside your discarded script. "It was from a construction company."

"And?" You prod, somewhat impatiently, making Taehyung jump.

"And apparently the owner of the theatre is behind on rent and...and..." He swallows hard. "And they're buying the rights to tear it down and build an apartment complex in its place."

"What?" Both you and Jungkook exclaim at the same time.

Jungkook's fists clench. "I always knew that old man was shady."

Taehyung fumbles in the pocket of the coat he arrived with, retrieving a brochure which he thrusts towards you.

The image on the front is of a metal skyscraper, far too shiny and new to belong in a seaside town like Ocean City. Fusion Apartments — modern living.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his hair, eyes sorrowful as you pass it over to him. "This sucks. Big time." He murmurs. "The Crestmont is the heart of Ocean City. How can they just bulldoze it like it means nothing?"

"That's why..." Taehyung swallows. "That's why I came here. I thought maybe you guys could help me, and we could do something before they—"

"We?" You furrow your brows. "You want us to help stop them from tearing down the Crestmont?"

"I mean yeah, I guess? I figured you guys would understand how important it is—"

You bite your lip. Taehyung flinches when you place a hand on his knee. "Tae. It seems like they've already got it figured out I mean...what can we do about it? The Crestmont has had a long run and maybe it's time for something new in Ocean City..."

"Y/N?" Jungkook warns, but there's a betrayal in his voice. How could you say that? It pains you, but you continue anyway. "What are you saying?"

"I just...I think it's time to let the Crestmont go."

Taehyung stands up so abruptly his mug smashes onto the marble tile.

"How could you?" He roars, but his bottom lip trembles. "The Crestmont is mom's place! It's all we have left of her in that fucking town and you want to just let them burn it to the ground?"

You tut, kneeling to pick up the broken pieces of china with a sharp glance at your brother. "For goodness sake, Taehyung. Mom isn't there anymore. She never was. She was always running off with some roadies and leaving us behind because she thought she was something special."

Taehyung scoffs. "What? Just like you?" He grabs the cocoa sodden script, crumpling it up in his shaking fist. "You are exactly the same as her. Running off to New York and leaving me behind to get your big break."

Jungkook steps forward warily. "Taehyung, you don't mean that—"

"Yes I do! If Y/N had just gotten in the car that day she wouldn't have died. It was all her fault. And now she's just gonna let them take what we have left of her."

"What?" Jungkook blinks.

Your stomach sinks. Is that really what Taehyung thinks? You wouldn't blame him. Deep down, his words strike a nerve. Because you know they're true.

Taehyung's eyes are hazy, unfocused. You reach for him dizzily, but he backs away into the hall.

"I shouldn't have come here." Taehyung whispers. He looks between you and Jungkook one last time before he's grabbing his coat and running down the steps to the first floor.

"Taehyung, wait!" You hear Jungkook's footsteps follow him out into the stairwell, but you're trapped on the ground, heaving for air.

Your hands shake as you pull yourself up to the window pane and watch Taehyung disappear into the gloom of the city, the sorrowful raindrops that lash against the glass mirroring the ones on your cheeks.

YOU: Taehyung??? YOU: [CALL IGNORED] YOU: please Tae YOU: can we at least talk about this? YOU: we're worried about you

It's been nearly 12 hours since you watched Taehyung disappear among the hustle and bustle of New York from your apartment window.

You and Jungkook were out all night searching for him. By the time you gave up the sun was rising and the birds were chirping and Jungkook somehow convinced your shivering form to return home to rest with a Taehyung shaped hole in your heart.

"It'll be okay. He'll be okay. He always is."

A phone call to your dad revealed he hadn't returned home that night; so where did he go exactly?

The weight of that question sits heavy in your chest as you sit backstage at the theatre, staring into your own vacant eyes in the dressing room mirror.

It's opening night. The show is due to start in fifteen minutes. Your lips are painted a deep shade of red, hair backcombed to perfection by one of the makeup artists. Beneath the harsh lights of the exposed bulbs that line the mirror, you look almost unrecognisable.

Confident, strong, successful.

Anyone would say your dreams had come true, or something sappy to that effect. But even as you sit among the hustle and bustle of the costume team and breathe in the fragrance of perfume and powder blush, you couldn't feel further away from the New York version of yourself if you tried.

Staring back at you is a reflection of the shy, terrified girl from Ocean City you worked so hard to forget. Yet here she is, mind whirring with worries for her brother instead of the lines she should be rehearsing to death before curtain call.

This should be your big moment. One which you will remember forever. But all you want to do right now is hold Taehyung close like you used to and tell him you're sorry and that you won't leave him again.

"Y/N!" You're snapped out of your thoughts by a familiar hand on your shoulder. You cover it with your own, instantly eased somewhat when you glance up and lock eyes with Jungkook in the mirror.

"Y/N, I found him."

"What?!" You jump to your feet, chair scraping obscenely. It draws the eyes of the people around you who quickly register Jungkook's polite smile as their cue to shuffle out of the dressing room and leave you two to talk. "Where is he? I need to talk to him—"

"He's not coming."

"What?"

Jungkook sinks into the chair beside you, forehead creased. He runs a hand through his hair and momentarily you catch a glimpse of the old Jungkook. The Jungkook that always took care of his best friend Taehyung.

"I...I gave him a ticket for the show tonight and told him to come. To see how much this really means to you...but—"

Your finger nails press half moons into your palms. "But what, Kook?"

"He was already leaving for Ocean City."

A sob wracks your frame. "Do you think he hates me?"

Jungkook's arms engulf you before the first tear can roll down your cheek, his chin tucking perfectly into the cleft of your shoulder. "Of course not, he's just...he's hurting right now."

"I can't lose him — not like this, Kook..."

"Shh. It'll all be okay."

You jump back and start to pace. "But it's not okay! What he said last night is true!"

Jungkook sucks in a breath. "What?"

Your knees buckle and you crumple. You can hardly breathe, shame washing over you as you admit the truth for the first time.

"I caused the accident! I'm the reason my mom's...she's..."

Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulder, voice soothing. "What are you talking about?"

"The night of the accident she got a call from some big buck director. She was cast in this huge movie. Her big break." You're speaking to fast, but Jungkook nods to tell you he's listening.

"So she told Taehyung and I we were leaving for New York that night. And we were packing our bags before my dad got home and...and I said I wasn't coming. I didn't wanna leave Ocean City behind."

"I kicked and cried and said I didn't want to go, so her and Taehyung took off by themselves and that's when they got into the crash. She was upset and going too fast. It was all because of me." You start to sob. You've never admitted this to anyone before. Not even yourself. It tears your heart in two to say it out loud. "I'm the reason Taehyung's broken."

"You can't think like that." Jungkook clasps your face in his hands, thumb wiping away a stray tear. He looks scared, but his voice stays calm and convincing. "What happened was an accident. You were a kid. None of this is your fault."

"That's why Taehyung must hate me so much." You choke. "I'm doing what mom always wanted to, but she never had the chance because of me."

"Y/N?" A crew member steps into the room awkwardly with a cough. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the show is about to start. The audience is getting restless."

"Go. I'll take care of Taehyung, okay?" Jungkook pulls you to your feet, engulfing you in a final hug before he pushes you towards the stage entrance at the small of your back. "You're needed out there. Show them what you're made of."

Your eyes widen. This can't be happening. Not now.

"I...I can't."

"You can." Jungkook grabs your face and captures your lips, hard. It tastes salty with tears. "You're my star remember?"

"I love you." You whisper when you pull back, fingers reaching for him weakly as a costume designer hurries you towards the door.

"I love you too." Jungkook calls. His smile is the last thing you see before the door slams shut and there's no going back. "Now go break a leg, pretty!"

Particles of dust float in and out of your vision beneath the blinding stage lights.

Everything feels different from side stage. Your heart races as you press your ear to the velvet curtain separating you from the world, listening to the hubbub of laughing children and chattering adults filtering into the theatre. You imagine them taking their seats, buying icecream from the vendors, alive with anticipation.

The lights dim. You hear the director behind you, shouting something about places please! but it's like you're underwater, limbs weighted as you move like a ghost to your position for the opening number.

Your palms are clammy and you wipe them on your dress.

Show starting in 5...

Your legs turn to jelly. You close your eyes and try to calm your racing thoughts.

4...

Taehyung. Is he okay? Why didn't he come tonight?

3...

Shit! What was your opening line again? Goddamnit, Y/N, think!

2...

Mom. Would she be proud?

1...

You open your eyes.

The curtain is gone, and a pair of hands pushes you out into the harsh white spotlight. You shield your eyes with your fingers, heart dropping when you look up and find hundreds of eyes staring. Staring right at you.

It's like you're on the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the cool water below. Or fall.

Everything starts to blur. You're a teenager again, stood on the stage at the Crestmont. Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you don't know whether to scream or to run.

Run. Run. Run.

Your mouth opens, then closes. There's an awkward cough from the audience. Words run your mind in circles, but none of them are right, and before they can reach your lips they evaporate on your tongue.

Your panicked eyes roam the sea of seats that zoom in and out of focus. Your knees buckle, and you're sure you are going to pass out right here in front of everyone, but then your eyes meet a familiar pair of brown ones that makes the room stop spinning for a moment.

Jungkook. He's smiling at you, fingers crossed in his lap. There's not a trace of nerves in his gaze as he nods for you to go ahead.

I believe in you.

Just then the door to the theatre flies open and every head in the audience turns towards the darkly clothed figure shuffling through the aisles, mumbling sorry's and excuse me's until he reaches the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

He lets down his hood, shakes free a head of blonde hair that's still damp from the rain. He's out of breath, like he ran here.

Taehyung.

Your brother looks up at you, frozen in place, and his eyes soften. He flashes you a thumbs up and his lips curl around the four words you needed to hear.

You can do this.

And just like that, the panic disappears. The words come flooding back, and your body flies into action, moving across the stage

You forget all about the fear, and the anxiety, and Taehyung and the Crestmont. For now it's just you and the stage, together in harmony.

And you've never felt more alive than when you take your final bow and the crowd roars to life, just like you always imagined it would.

Your jaw hurts from smiling, and before you know it you're crying. Because when you squint against the theatre lights, you see Taehyung and Jungkook in the front row, holding each other and shouting your name.

Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!

"Hey! Be careful!"

The bouquet of congratulatory geraniums cradled in your arms gets crushed between your body and your brother's. He practically tackled you as soon as you entered the dressing room, carried on the cheering shoulders of the other cast and crew members.

"Holy shit." Taehyung holds you at arms length. His eyes are ringed red around the edges. "You were amazing, Y/N."

"You really think so?" Tears start to well and you're so happy to see him that you throw your arms around his waist. "I'm so glad you came, Tae."

"Yeah. You were just like her." He smiles. "Just like mom."

You share a small, sad smile. You've heard those words all your life but it feels different when it comes from Taehyung.

Jungkook pops his head into the room. He catches your eye over Taehyung's shoulder, and flashes you a small smile when he sees you cradling him in your arms.

Talk to him. He mouths, and you're suddenly reminded of why Taehyung came here in the first place.

"Hey listen—"

"Taehyung—"

You both start to talk, bursting into easy laughter when the other stops, seemingly hit with the same idea at the same time.

"You go first." You smile, encouragingly.

"Okay." He pulls you over to the couch. "I'm just...I'm sorry for storming out last night. I shouldn't have come here and expected you to help me—"

"No, stop. I'm sorry." You place a hand over his. "I want to help." You hold an arm out to Jungkook, who crosses the room and slides his hand into yours. "We want to help. We want to save the Crestmont."

Taehyung's eyes bulge. His voice drops to a whisper. "Really?"

"You were right. The Crestmont was mom's place."

You think about how it felt to be out there on the stage, in front of a crowd cheering your name. The excitement, the exhilaration. Your first stage.

The Crestmont is your mom's first stage. It's where she felt those same emotions for the first time. You can't let it be demolished. Not for anything.

"She deserves a legacy. We can't let them tear it down. I don't know how yet, but we'll save it."

"Thank you." A tear streaks his cheek, and his arms pull you and Jungkook into a tight bear hug.

"Thank you. For showing me what really matters, Tae." You whisper. "Let's do this together, okay?"

"For mom."

Taehyung holds out his pinky finger, and you link yours with his.

"For mom."

Where things go wrong.

Six months later.

Every second that passes is marked by a deafening tick from the kitchen clock.

Jungkook was supposed to be home 10 minutes ago. You're sat alone at the dinner table, a carefully presented meal for two spread across your mom's old polka dot table cloth. You even lit candles.

With a sigh you drop your chin into your hand, absentmindedly pushing your spaghetti around the dish while your eyes remain trained to the front door that will open any moment.

To be honest, it's been months since you and Jungkook shared a meal together. He spends most of his nights in his office, hunched over his laptop staring at the blinking cursor on some script he'll never finish. And ever since Jungkook's big script got rejected and he fell into a slump of no work, he had to get a job at a local convenience store all day for some spare cash to get you through the month.

You know he hates it. He hates the rude customers and how he can never shower the smell of grease out of his hair.

You know the bickering that turned into arguing that turned into fighting was just a result of his restless aggravation at being shot down too many times. Of watching his dream slip right through his fingers.

But you haven't exactly been as understanding as you should have been. You're overworked too, with the play, and The Crestmont, and you hate how easy it was to accept sleeping apart and missing dinner dates.

So you texted him to tell him you were making dinner tonight. A cease fire of sorts, or maybe just a feeble attempt at glueing back together the cracks that have appeared between you recently with pasta sauce and meatballs.

But he's late. Again.

And it makes you wonder whether there was any point in trying.

"Y/N?"

A gravelly voice jolts you out of your thoughts. Keys jangle onto the counter, shoes are slipped from feet and thrown into the storage cupboard with the creaky door.

"I'm in here." Your voice sounds meek, but you straighten and muster up a smile. To show at least one of you is making an effort.

Jungkook appears in the doorway, clad in his ugly traffic cone orange uniform. His shoulders are slumped, bangs limply stuck to his forehead. He looks tired, exhausted.

"What's all this?" He nods disinterestedly towards your untouched homemade buffet before heading to the sink to fix himself a glass of water.

"Dinner." You cough. He stiffens. "Remember?"

"Oh." He scratches the back of his neck. His eyes flash with something close to guilt momentarily, but then he smoothes it out. "Yeah. Dinner."

"It's okay, you're not too late. We can just heat this up in the microwave—"

"I already ate, Y/N." The glass in his hand slams onto the counter a little too loudly. "At the store."

You can't hide the way your face drops.

"Please." You whisper. "For me?"

Jungkook stares at you for a few seconds, unblinking, before he exhales shakily and pulls out the seat opposite you.

"What's on the menu?" He asks, hands already grabbing for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table without so much as a glance at the food you worked so hard to prepare.

"Pasta."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence settles. Jungkook nibbles at a meatball, and you suddenly feel too sick to the stomach to keep anything down.

You jump when Jungkook's fork clatters to the table. He wipes pasta sauce from the corners of his mouth with a napkin and you're sure you can see a slight tremor in his grasp.

"There's something I need to tell you."

His words ring out into the deafening silence that shrouds the apartment. You train your eyes to the candle in the middle of the table that flickers back and forth and carefully place down your own cutlery.

"Should I be worried?"

"No...I mean, I don't know. Maybe." Jungkook waves his hands around and when his eyes meet yours they're distant. Like the table that separates you spans oceans. "Just promise not to freak out."

"I'm not promising anything. Why are you looking at me like that?"

He shifts and the cheap flat pack dining chairs you bought when you moved in creak like they always do. "I...I got a movie deal. They loved the script I told them I've been working on and they want me to direct it."

Your heart fills with something sweet; pride. Even despite your downs recently this is still incredible news. You knew your boyfriend should be ecstatic...so why is he staring intently at the table cloth like it killed his whole family? "That's awesome, Kook. So what's the problem?"

"I gave them a different script."

Something shifts in the air. You hold your breath.

"Huh?"

"The script. The one you told me to burn before we came to New York. The one about you...your life."

Your blood runs cold and it's like your frozen. Just searching through the never ending blackness behind Jungkook's eyes that fails to falter, no matter how hard you pinch your inner thigh and hope you're about to wake up from a bad dream.

"You wouldn't." Your voice sounds strained and Jungkook doesn't even flinch. "You...I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry." He runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "It's just that they hated the first one and I wanted this deal so bad. It's a once in a lifetime chance Y/N, don't you see?"

The boy staring back at you isn't the sweet and sensitive Jungkook from Ocean City or the strong and passionate man from New York. His words get all mixed up in your head as you repeat them over and over and it's as if you don't even know him at all. All you can feel now is betrayal. And just like that all the anger that has been building inside you for months explodes.

"So my life is just a fucking plot for one of your indie movies, Jungkook?"

"It's always your life isn't it? Never mine." He slams his hands on the table hard enough to make your insides shake. "Ever since we came to New York I've supported you, sat back and watched as you achieved all your dreams. And it hurts, Y/N. To come home from my dead end job, and write another goddamn script that nobody wants to even read."

"I came to New York because of you!" You don't even realise you're crying until you taste the hot salty tears that won't seem to stop. "I came here so you could make it big! You're the one who encouraged me to audition for the play in the first place!"

"God, are you really that naive? Don't you see? I came to New York because I saw how much it meant to you." Jungkook lowers his voice, and there's something in his words that makes your heart twist. Pain. His eyes look watery and you long to reach out for him. Like the skin on skin contact will somehow make all of this okay. "And not once have you ever considered how it might feel for me to sit back in your shadow."

"So that's what this is? Jealousy?" You shake your head and get up from the table and turn to leave, but Jungkook grasps your wrist.

"Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am happy for you Jungkook. And I always will be." Your heart softens and you're reminded of the boyfriend you know. The boyfriend you love. You want to believe he's in there somewhere so you place your hand over his, and for a second he looks hopeful. "But this was never your story to tell. That's what hurts."

He drops your arm, gaze cold and distant. "Then I guess that's it then."

"What?"

The room starts to spin.

"If you can't accept my decision to go ahead with the project then I guess we can't do this anymore."

"This?" You whisper.

"Us."

"Jungkook...Are you saying we're over?"

He drops his head into his hands and lets out a sigh. "Maybe. I don't know."

"You don't know?" You chuckle but it's hollow, empty. "You don't know if you love me any more?"

Jungkook's face drops and he lurches towards you, but you step back.

"No, shit Y/N I didn't mean it like that!" He looks scared. "I was just angry and it slipped out."

"Don't." His arms reach for you again but the brush of his fingertips feels scalding hot, wrong. "Don't fucking touch me."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't lie to me Jungkook." Your vision is blurred with tears as you rip open the closet and yank out a suitcase. "You're not sorry. I was never your muse. I was just a stepping stool to the top."

"Where are you going?" Jungkook's crying now too. It comes out as a sob.

"Home." You say as you rip open your shared closet door and start throwing your things into the case. "I'm going home. Where I belong."

"I can't lose you like this. Please." He reaches for your wrist again but you're already half way to the door.

"Too late." You say. "I'm going home. And I'm never coming back."

The familiar scent of burned popcorn and candyfloss soothes you as you creep through the backdoor of the Crestmont. It always had a broken hinge which opened just enough for a body to squeeze through. Seems not a lot has changed since you left Ocean City.

It's dark inside. Silent too, without the popcorn machine running and the movie trailers playing on LED screens. You don't know what you expected. It's gone midnight by the time you get back to Ocean City, but you don't want to go home just yet.

Comfort washes over you as you run your fingers over the gilded edges of the counter, and slip beneath the hatch on auto pilot. It feels strange to be back here without the starched shirt and bow tie you used to hate. You've swapped out worn sneakers for heels that click against the tiles and you've performed on stages for crowd's bigger than the Crestmont's but here and now, you feel like yourself. Even though everything in your life has changed, you're still the same small town girl underneath it all.

Without thinking your legs carry you to the wall of fame. The faces smile up at you, like they're saying welcome back.

"Hey mom," You whisper, stopping momentarily in front of her portrait. You stared at it for so long as a kid that you have every detail committed to memory but seeing it up this close makes your breath hitch. "It's me."

With a sigh you force yourself past into the hall. Your hands tremble as you push open the door to the theatre. It's just how you remember it, sparkling gold and red velvet and mystery. But there's yellow tape strung up across all the seats and a sign has been propped up on the stage, red glaring letters burning a hole in your heart as you read them.

DANGER. DUE FOR DEMOLISHMENT. STAY AWAY.

All you can do is let your legs buckle, back sliding down the wall as you hug your knees to your chest and let out a throaty sob that echoes from the high ceiling.

When did everything go so wrong? You must be cursed. Everything you touch gets destroyed.

"Y/N?"

The lights flicker on, bathing the room in a soft golden glow. You wipe your tears, but that doesn't stop them from coming.

"Over here."

Your voice is small but a few seconds later Taehyung's face appears from behind one of the velvet seats. His eyes soften when he sees you curled up in the corner.

"What are you doing down here?" He clambers over the seat to join you, his long legs folded awkwardly in the small space.

"Having a one man party." You snort and point to your tear stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His hand covers yours and the contact makes you jump.

"Yes..." You sniff. He raises a brow. "No. Jungkook broke up with me."

Taehyung chokes. "What?!"

"I mean, we fought and then he...he said we were over." Your heart stabs painfully but you shrug. "So I came here. Didn't know where else to go."

He places an encouraging hand on your shoulder. "Listen...I know I haven't always been there for you when I should've. Hell, you always took care of me and I never even asked how you were doing." He offers a small smile. "But I'm here now. And you can tell me anything. If...if you want to."

A few seconds tick by in silence. You try to form a sentence but everything just comes back to the same three words.

"I miss mom." You blurt.

It echoes through the theatre, and you can practically hear the mermaids and the cupids painted on the ceiling gasp. It surprises you too, the combination of grief and relief that washes over you at finally admitting it.

"I know." Taehyung pulls you into his chest, lips whispering against your hair as you let out a sob and it's like all the sadness and denial is rushing out of you like a faucet, filling the whole room up like a water tank. You're terrified of the moment it gets too full, and you stop being able to breathe. "But you're a lot like her, y'know."

"That's exactly the problem!" Your words come out as a yell and it makes you both jump. "Everyone always says I look like her, I talk like her, I act like her. And I hated it for the longest time because I hated her for leaving us!"

"But without even realising it I became her, Tae. I did what I always said I wouldn't and became selfish. I hurt you, and Jungkook and even the Crestmont."

"That's not true."

"It is! And the worst part is I don't even hate her any more. I need her. To hold me, and tell me it's going to be alright. But she isn't here!"

"What does this have to do with Jungkook?"

"Jungkook wrote a script. A long time ago. About mom. And you and I. And everything that happened." You swallow, Taehyung's eyebrow raises though he doesn't look at all surprised by this information, nor as horrified as you that a record of your bleak shortcomings exists for anyone to read. "He got a movie deal. That's why we fought."

Taehyung hums. "You don't want him to make the movie?"

"It's not that I...I want to be happy for him. But I can't." You choke. "It's too painful. Remembering."

Accepting.

"When I said you were a lot like mom, I meant that you are headstrong." Taehyung pauses. "I felt that way once too. Like I hated mom and the goddamn world for taking her too soon. But in the end, the only person I hated was myself. Like however hard I tried I could never get over her, and all the pain I was pushing down into a dark place kept taunting me through the nightmares." He shivers, and you grip his hand tighter. "But one day I realised I don't have to be afraid of that pain any more. That pain is a part of me. But that doesn't mean I have to let it win."

"So what did you do?"

"I let myself feel it . I faced it. The only way I could let mom go was to stop running away." He pats your shoulder. "You need to set the girl in that script free, so you can move on."

And just like that, you're swimming...up, up, up, until you reach the surface of the water tank and you can take a heaving breath for the first time.

You throw your arms around his neck. It feels weird to hug him like this, but it's nice. "I missed you, Tae. Thank you.”

"I didn't do anything." He says. "The strength is inside you, you just need to find it. Just like you need to stop holding on to the past and let the new you shine for once."

You shake your head. "I need to talk to Jungkook. I don't know why I stormed off like that and..." You trail off. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"

Taehyung grins. "I didn't. I got called in to sort some paperwork and I noticed the back door ajar. Good thing it was you and not some crazy with a baseball bat, right?"

"At this time?" You nod to his still pyjama clad state. "Is it important?"

"Y/N," He laughs lightly. There's excitement shining in his eyes. "Someone just bought the Crestmont."

You scramble to your knees. "What?"

"We're staying open, and I get to keep my job."

And then you're hugging again, and laughing and crying because the Crestmont is going to be okay. You're going to be okay.

"That's incredible, Tae! Who is it? Who bought the Crestmont?"

"I don't know, it was an anonymous transaction. But the guy said he would be here...." He glances at his wrist watch, and as he does, the door creaks open. "Around now."

"Hello? Anyone here?" A familiar voice calls out.

"Jungkook?" Both of your jaws drop as you poke up from behind the seats. Sure enough your heart flutters when you see him, all wind swept and out of breath like he ran here.

"I thought you might be here." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can we talk?"

The car ride to the pier was mostly silent. Jungkook borrowed his dad's old beat up truck -- it was that or his old bike with the pegs on the back -- and it still smelled like leather and petrol like it used to.

Everything about Ocean City is the same as you remember it. The pier stands strong atop the rocky sand, sea air deliciously fresh as it fills your lungs. The rolling waves shimmer like gold dust below the wisps of pink clouds that greet the rising sun. The beach is a peaceful view at this time. No tourists, all of yesterdays sandcastles swallowed by the sea spray. It took a couple hours to work through the paperwork so by now it's early morning — 5:30am according to your phone lockscreen.

It's chilly, and your skin is covered with goose bumps even despite Jungkook's suede jacket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. But you don't mind.

You've missed this. You've missed Ocean City.

"No ice cream, I'm afraid." The breeze ruffles Jungkook's hair as he emerges from the fairground and settles beside you with his legs poking through the rails. He flashes you an apologetic smile. "I guess the parlour doesn't open until 9..."

You feel a pang in your chest. Being here is like a serious case of deja vu. Countless hours spent in this very spot, eating vanilla scoops with rainbow sprinkles beside Jungkook used to be so normal. When did you grow so far apart that you're surprised he even remembers?

"Jungkook..." You swallow hard when you meet his eyes, hands longing to reach out and stroke the stream of sunrise on his cheek that makes his dark eyes sparkle. "We...we need to talk. About everything."

There's a moment of silence filled only by the calls of seagulls greeting the morning before he speaks. "I sold the script."

He sounds nervous. Like he's not quite sure what your reaction will be.

You swallow. "And you used the money to buy the Crestmont?"

"Yeah." He says matter of factly, scratching a phantom itch at his nape. "I guess I did."

"Why?" Your voice is small.

"I can't loose you, Y/N." He murmurs. "Just like you can't loose your mom. The Crestmont was her everything. But you are mine. And loosing the Crestmont would be loosing a piece of you, and I couldn't stand that."

The breeze ruffles his hair as he reaches for your hand and links your fingers and squeezes hard. You don't make any move to stop him. You know what it means, so you squeeze back and return the sentiment. I'm sorry.

Before you can stop yourself you lurch forward, arms curling around his neck and it's like coming home. His hands pull you flush to his chest, hearts beating in sync and you know everything is going to be okay now.

"Thank you." You whisper against his nape. A tear rolls down your cheek and soaks into his collar and before you know it you're blubbering. "Thank you so much, Kook."

"You aren't mad?" His voice is muffled but you can hear the quirk of his brow.

"Mad? No..no..." You lean back and wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "But what about the movie? And your dream to be a director and--"

Jungkook grabs your shoulders. His own eyes are glassy as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"That was never what mattered to me, Y/N. Not even a little bit. There's one reason I went to New York and it's the same reason I came back to Ocean City tonight. You."

"But--"

"No but's. As long as we're together, I'm already living my dream." His lips turn up into a smile, his eyes tracing your face like it's the first time and he can't get enough. "And I never ever want to wake up."

You shift in your spot to face him properly for the first time, and emotion hits you like a tidal wave. It's like all of a sudden you realize how stupid you've been; to fight with the man before you, a man who only knows kindness, about the trivial when the things that mattered the most were always right here, in front of you. The things that mattered most were always in Ocean City.

You brace your hands on his shoulders and lean up so your lips are inches apart. His eyes fall shut naturally, and you can't help but laugh with what you can only describe as one thing: happiness.

"I love you." You whisper against his lips. A warm palm cups your jaw and closes the distance between them and you're almost too lost in the way Jungkook's kiss takes your breath away to hear his response.

"I love you too."

"Sooo..." You bite your lip with a coy smile when Jungkook pulls away, the blush upon his cheeks scarlet beneath the sun which is rapidly rising. "I take it we're no longer broken up?"

"Well duh," He swats you playfully. "You think I'd do all this just to dump your ass?"

"Hey!" You pout. "I dumped your ass."

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh.

"Besides," He glances out over the horizon nonchalantly and shrugs. "I'm gonna need help if I'm gonna start my own film company and run the Crestmont."

Your jaw drops. "A what now?"

"A film company." He explains. "A different type of film company, right here in Ocean City. For the outcasts like me who have a vision that even the biggest names in New York can't see yet." He smiles, so big and bright it makes your heart leap. "I'm gonna show them, Y/N. And everything I need to do it is right here in Ocean City."

"I know you will. I never doubted you for a second." You take his hand and link your fingers, squeezing hard. "And you bet your ass I'll be front row to watch each and every one, Jeon Jungkook."

Epilogue.

"Just keep your eyes shut!"

"I already know where we're going, so why can't I look?" You laugh, attempting and failing to tug Jungkook's interlocked fingers away from your eyes.

"Shush, it's a surprise! Just roll with it."

A surprise. That's what Jungkook said earlier too when he woke you up at the crack of dawn by throwing a dress at your head and telling you to meet him outside in the truck in 10 minutes or else.

By the time you pulled up into the familiar parking lot of your not-so-mysterious destination, the sky was already aflame with the glow of morning skimming the horizon, and Jungkook practically leapt out of the truck, palms unusually sweaty as he grasped your hand and pulled you towards the path quicker than your feet could carry you.

"What's the hurry, Kook?" You get out between heavy breaths, quads burning as the path gets steeper beneath your feet.

Come to think of it, your boyfriend has been acting strangely all week. Like hiding things behind his back when you walk into a room or talking in hushed whispers on the phone to Taehyung when he thought you were sleeping.

"You'll see." The path levels out and you stop. Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist, chin tucked into the cleft of your shoulder like a perfect puzzle piece. "Okay. Now you can look."

You round the corner, heart racing when your eyes flutter open and your vision is filled with a sea of yellow flowers. Your place.

The meadow is just how you left it, tall grass and sunny blooms dancing beneath the rays of morning sun peeking out from between the clouds. A warmth spreads through your chest and you both laugh when Gureum lets out an excited yelp, before bounding off between the stems playfully.

"I think the little guy wants us to follow him." Jungkook raises a brow and throws you a knowing shrug.

Excitement flutters in your stomach like a butterfly trapped between cupped palms. "How could I refuse?"

Fingers interlinked, you part the sunflowers and jog after the ball off fluff bouncing across the meadow, the breeze cool and forgiving as it ruffles the strands of hair that billow behind you.

Eventually you reach the clearing, and Gureum wags his tail at you proudly when you stoop down to scratch him behind his ears.

The sun reflects in Jungkook's eyes, turning them a warm golden brown. "Turn around."

You spin on your heels with a questioning glance. "Why?" That's when you see it. The spot where everything began. The tree where Jungkook kissed you all those years ago has bloomed with fragrant blossoms, and twinkle lights glow like tiny stars around it's branches. A blanket is laid out in the sun flecked shade beneath it, littered with feather cushions and lanterns and a trail of sunflower petals that begin at your feet.

"You did this?" You take his chin in your palms, face beaming despite the tears that have started to blur your vision. "Oh, Kook."

"Surprise." He smiles knowingly, grabbing you from behind and spinning you round and round until you both land with a soft thump in the middle of the outdoor cushion fort. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." He says with a nod to his right.

It's then that you notice the white sheet that's strung up a couple meters away between the trunks of two trees, Jungkook's vintage projector set up in front of it.

"What is this?" You ask, bewilderment evident in your voice.

"Gureum, would you do the honours?" Jungkook chuckles, extending a finger to point at a remote that your puppy obediently picks up with his teeth and drops into your lap with a wag of his tail.

Jungkook tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and takes a deep breath, like he's been waiting for this moment for a long time. "Go ahead. Press play and find out."

Your head shakes fondly, but your fingers tremble with anticipation as they find the PLAY button. You press it and the projector starts turning, a light flicking on at the top that makes a grainy image appear on the sheet.

The first scene is you. A teenager, dancing through the sunflower field, laughter spilling from your lips. The first time you hung out. And then it switches. You, again. Cleaning up a spill at the Crestmont, unaware of the camera. You. Paint in your hair as Jungkook chases you around the apartment in New York. You. Tears in your eyes as you hold baby Gureum for the first time. You. Asleep on Jungkook's shoulder on the subway, the camera panning to his face which lights up in a big grin, lips mouthing three words.

I love you.

Tears are hot on your cheeks, laughing as you remember the good moments and the bad, the funny and the sad, all immortalized forever through Jungkook's eyes.

The film fades out, and you throw your arms around your boyfriends neck. He chuckles when you tackle him to the ground, throwing a leg over his lap so that you can lean down and capture his lips between yours in a kiss that says all the words you want to say but you don't know how to. I love you too.

"I take it you liked it, then?" Jungkook says coyly, thumb stroking your cheek.

"It was beautiful Jungkook." You place your hand over his. "Now I know why you're always goddamn filming me."

"What can I say? You're my muse."

"Shut up." You punch him playfully. "You're gonna make me blush."

It's Jungkook's cheeks that flush pink. "Actually..." He starts to sit up, fumbling around in his back pocket. "There's something else."

"Oh?"

He clears his throat. "The first time we came to this place I knew I loved you. Back then, I said I wanted to show you what I found most beautiful. And it was you. It's always been you." He takes your hand, grip tight. "When we met we were just kids with big dreams. We might be older now but heck -- I still don't know what I'm doing. All I know is dreams come and go but you never left. You always stayed by my side. Which is why I want to promise you something."

"What, Kook?" You manage to whisper. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute in your ears. Is this what you think it is?

Jungkook swallows hard, eyes boring into yours.

"That I'll go wherever you go. New York, across oceans, up mountains -- you name it. As long as we're together, everything will be okay. So that's why I wanted to ask..." His fingers tremble as he produces a tiny black box, flicking it open to reveal a ring that sparkles see through in the sun. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Oh Jungkook," You throw your arms around his neck, overcome with emotion now as you capture his lips with your own. "Of course I'll marry you. You didn't even have to ask."

He lets out a sigh of relief, and then he's spinning you around in circles until you're both dizzy with love and belly laughter.

"I love you." He whispers, eyes shiny. His hand gently grasps your wrist as he slides the ring onto your finger.

You've heard him say it a hundred times before, but this time it's different. This time it's forever. Your heart flutters.

"I love you too, Kook."

Where there are new beginnings

Ocean City is the same as it always was.

You wake up each morning to the distant crash or waves, and you fall asleep each night to the tinkling fairground music that makes your heart sing. Tourists come and go, flooding the casinos and eating churros on the beach.

The Crestmont is doing better than ever. Once Taehyung took over as owner, the theatre became the heart of the city, attracting visitors from near and far to see the renowned plays directed by none other than Jeon Jungkook, the most sought after playwright and filmographer in all of the East Coast.

And then there's you. Ever since you starred in one of Jungkook's plays, about a girl from a seaside city moving to New York with big dreams, there's been no shortage of movie deals and acting opportunities thrown your way.

But in the end, you always find yourself coming back to Ocean City.

Tonight the Crestmont reopens for business after some much needed renovations. Taehyung is throwing a party, and there will be plenty of big Hollywood faces attending to see the brand new theatre and the updated __.

But one thing will always remain the same. The picture of your mom hung in the gallery. Her big smile is the heart of the Crestmont, greeting each and every visitor with pride.

And in the empty frame at the end of the wall of fame, there's a new picture.

You. Smiling, with your hair over one shoulder, just how you imagined. And beside you is Jungkook, with his arm wrapped around your waist and Taehyung holding Gureum and making a silly peace sign behind your head.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay so hi if you’re still here!! I decided to put this at the end because I didn’t wanna spoil the ending so please send love to @brekkiejeon​ !! They sent me the request for the ending of this fic all the way back in January and i’m trash and took like 7 months to finish writing it so i hope you enjoyed it even so lovely !!! <3 thank you for the request and sorry for the wait, this one really got me creative lol! 

Also I’d like to dedicate the smut in this fic to @atastefulwonderland​ because I know you love some good ole JK loving!! Hehe, ily~~

Also lemme know if this was bad because I never usually give OC so much backstory because I want it to be as relatable to the reader as poss obvi but these characters wrote themselves lmao like i’m just the writer i had no control okay???? I just do what these mfkers say. LOL.

#bts #happy jk day #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook smut #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagine #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #my writing #fic: wywg

[kimseoksjin]

yoonjin | 12k | fluff + pining

“Food is a love language, you know,” Seokjin says one day as he’s cooking together with Yoongi.

“Sure.”

“No, it is!”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi chuckles. “That you’re attempting to seduce me?”

A half-beat of silence, then Seokjin replies, “I’m saying that we’re on good terms solely because I started forcing you to eat breakfast.”

(or: Yoongi and Seokjin fall in love over a multitude of mornings.)

read it here!

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #bangtanwriters-net #kwriterskollection #kwordsmiths #kreativewritersnet #yoonjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fics #bangtan #bts #yoongi #seokjin #suga #jin #mystuff #myfics

[hhjs]

summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.

It was meant to be felt.

word count ➝ 16.6k words.

alternatively➝ university premise.

genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk

pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.

warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.

note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten.  i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope. 

a huge thanks to @emhpathy​ for beta-reading. 

 also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(

loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.

After. 

The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of  waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs. 

In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.

You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.

The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it  stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.

 Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -

You hope you never forget this.

 Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.

You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.  

Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.

Not even once.

...

Bach's  Toccata & Fugue in D Minor. 

You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.

So you run, run, run home.

You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are  pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."

 But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.  Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.

 Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together. 

From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing. 

 She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left. 

The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.     

All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage. 

The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.

(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)

Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall  chimneys.

Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.

Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung. 

Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.

You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out.  This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.

Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop  the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.

You push the field door open.

Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before. 

See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it  would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.

The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the  door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.

"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.

Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.

You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.

Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for. 

It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers. 

To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face. 

Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the  walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.

A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers.  You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football. 

Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter. 

That was a long time ago. 

It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.

Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company. 

His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking.  Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to  bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.

Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.

Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.

You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir  faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.

What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.

Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet,  just for safety measures.

"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..."  You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"

"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him. 

You hesitantly sit at the end of the row,  keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.

Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"

You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.

"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."

Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended  several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.

 You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court.  You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.

"You still wear that bracelet." 

"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes,  finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school. 

Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers,  "...Yeah."

...

Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly  architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy. 

Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.

You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply  looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.

Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always  having a proclivity to outshine others.

 He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest  towards composing  obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.

But  maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at  first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second,  maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.

You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest.  Although, conversations  on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.

So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.

He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all,  in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you. 

It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited. 

 Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words.  He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.

That was notably the last time you spoke in school.

But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo  and in trying desperately to  conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent. 

You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity  to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.

Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him  from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it. 

To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it,  often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.  

Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all. 

(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.

But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)

You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during  Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and  kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.

Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

 "What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."

 Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice. 

The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.

"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand." 

Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer.  The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.

Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"

You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.

His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.

"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"

Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. 

 The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy  face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière. 

You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.

"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.

It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)

"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."

You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.

It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.

"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement,  "Have you been dating a lot?" 

Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.

"Why?" 

He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.

  Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself,  that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.

You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.

"Just asking."

 He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."

You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action. 

Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.

 You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.

And it scares you for some unknown reason.

There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.

"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?" 

The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle  of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable,  but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this. 

You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.

"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger. 

"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  

"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.

"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s  like sitting  inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.

"Why not?" You frown.

Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."

...

You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but  just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.

When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that  loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention. 

Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you.  It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.

Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager  caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.

 But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.

Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.

You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.

"Hey!" 

You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you. 

"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a  plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.

The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.

Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."

It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing  masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists. 

 But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of  one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.

Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung  scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain -  there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.

"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.

"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."

But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.

 Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.

"Hey!"  You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes. 

(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )

"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions.  "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all? 

"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms,  "It's getting late. We should get going." 

...

The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water. 

It was just so beautiful. 

And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you  dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.

 That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.

In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.

It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.

The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.

 Once the majority of the crowd  had  long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of  beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin. 

 You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.

In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing  with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of  the  splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.  

You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in. 

Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke. 

Though the amusement is  mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot. 

When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.

Stacks of comics are carefully  placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.

 The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.

Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.

 You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a  staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes. 

Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's  a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out. 

When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.

Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all. 

But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.

Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out. 

The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between  his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows.  He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?" 

 He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light. 

"Yeah?"

You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?" 

"That's a good question."  He snorts.  "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"

You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."

Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes,  he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."

You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily.  You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer. 

He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.  

"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought. 

A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.

 "Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You  scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."

 With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.

 "Then what is?" He raises a brow.

"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."

Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.

 "You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene."  You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside  your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.

 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern. 

"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."

"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"

 He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.

Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him.  To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again. 

 "What's the party for anyway?"

You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted. 

 "It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."

“Sounds like a cult activity to me."

You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.

 "Well, that...That's because it is."

It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises  to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.

Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.

  "Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."

 "Wow...you sound so disappointed.” 

 Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath.  It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.

When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"

 Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time  you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire. 

But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.

 Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you.  "No." 

Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together.  "Why not?"

 "It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.

  "No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about,  that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."

Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning  to give you,

 "Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me -  really do have a lot of potential.”

You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"

 "I know so."

 You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly. 

Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.

Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks." 

This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”

You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.

 See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance  and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing  your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.

But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you  like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is  -  to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with  nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs -  until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was.   (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)

It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.

There's something relieving about that theory.

 "I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading  across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper. 

Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles,  "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.  

Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more,  contemplating fashions  to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.

"Well, you had a lot to drink." 

He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious;  worry laced in his voice and you understood why -   even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.

"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."

"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.

His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.

"You were cute."

You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.

"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will."  He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face. 

You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..." 

The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine. 

Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.

Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.

You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.

You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?" 

"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut. 

"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you. 

For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the  Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart. 

Then it begins.  This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it.  You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised  but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)

Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now,  just once, you aren't afraid. 

You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you  nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.  Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue. 

To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.

"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."

...

A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second. 

You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife. 

The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.

Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you  with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.

"It's you!" You gasp, partially  because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.

"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.

  He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."

It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.

"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" 

You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.

"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something.  Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."

Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry. 

"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up.  It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently  came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the  big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake. 

You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.

"That's not what I asked."  Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you.  Minho had a curious  quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction. 

"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.

 Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further. 

The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks  of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes. 

By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you. 

"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho. 

 You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.

 It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.

Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint. 

“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder.  "What?"

It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one. 

 "You know...cause I'll see you later!" 

In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.

...

During the day, the portrait is much more confusing. 

It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the  pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use. 

There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this. 

"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"

 "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art,  "It just looks like they slapped on paint."

 "Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart. 

You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love  meant to be understood. 

It was meant to be felt. 

...

"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"

 Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.

It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo. 

He and the rest of the boys have started  to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends  teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.

As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill. 

But  while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.

The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands  more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.  

Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that. 

"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.

 It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.

Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."

 "I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location." 

Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making  its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"

Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you  to have access to this information without telling. 

"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan, 

"I don't!"

…

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.  The  strong stink of diesel is still emanating  in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .

"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air  whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts, 

 "You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."

“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?" 

"Last time was different." 

"How?" 

"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with you...like...voluntarily." Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."

"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it.  Or maybe you could but you don't want to.

It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.

"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture. 

 Sunwoo honks loudly,  pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.

Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly.  The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring  gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.

"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.  

(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens.  And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)

...

Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.

"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.

You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness  and groan out a loud What are they still doing here?  everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then. 

Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"

Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah."  He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out. 

"Only good things I hope."

Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."

"You're on the varsity swim team, right?" 

 With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod. 

"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to  provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."

Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.

"I can hear you, you know!"  You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite. 

Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you,  "Really?"

You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung  interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.

 Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."

"Sungie,  I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?"  Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that  —  when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?

 Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly.  And it feels like you're losing something.

You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally.  You hope the universe would miraculously  render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow. 

"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."

"Wait."

Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.

"I'll come with you."

You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.

 It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate. 

And despite everything, your heart still aches for him. 

"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung  tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it. 

You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought. 

 Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"

"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and  the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong? 

You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him. 

 "I don't think we should be friends anymore."

"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"

Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and  it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue. 

"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I'm...in love with you...I love you, okay?"

You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his  features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, "...you don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…" 

"So...I think...it's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life. 

"I know I'm asking for too much…"

Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.

"Yeah, you're right, you are."

"Well, I'm sorry."  You breath out. 

He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against  your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it." 

 The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is. 

"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you again...it just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.

Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong." 

"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible. 

"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially. 

 He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Hmmm, can't be too sure."

You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip. 

A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing. 

This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him,  to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat. 

"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."

You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way  so far up  up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.

A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’t...here."

As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.

Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.

It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you. 

You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long. 

...

Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets  in bold red slanted letters. 

You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.

It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.

 All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.

(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)

 Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now. 

"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"

You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."

(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have. 

But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore. 

Because you've got your silver lining.)

#pls feel free to scream in the tags i love it <3 #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #jisung smut #jisung angst #jisung fluff #jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung x stay #jisung x stay #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #chan x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #han smut #han imagines #kpop angst #kpop imagines #jisung imagines #han jisung imagines

[jkeuphoriadreamland]

The Prank || jjk

❃Pairing: f reader x Jungkook ❃Genre: Sub!Jungkook, 18+M, 3.5k words, oneshot ❃Synopsis: It all started off as a prank until your baby boy surprised you with pretty black silk panties. ❃Warnings: noona kink, pranking, baby boy kink, teasing, handjob, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, hair pulling, biting, rutting, whining, crying, teasing, edging, masturbation, multiple orgasms, praise kink, Kook in PANTIES BECAUSE I’M WEAK FOR HIM AND MY FINGERS TYPE WHAT THEY WANT sorry not sorry. This was edited quickly.

“Noona? Are you mad at me?” Cautiously Jungkook walks into the bedroom completely at a loss as to why you’ve been ignoring him all day. When he tries to come closer, you still don’t reply. He seems perplexed, not really sure what he might have done to garner this reaction from you. A small pout begins to form on his lips, and he paces back and forth a few times before walking back out of the room.

You almost break your composure, grabbing at your heart to hold back the ache you feel. There was no real reason for your anger. You were in a mood to tease your baby boy and making him extra pouty sounded like fun. The problem was that you were too weak for his reactions. His sweet mouth and doe eyes always did you in, and he knew it. Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself for his return.

You can hear him shuffling in the other room, walking back and forth mumbling to himself. It was too cute, but you wait, knowing that the reward you’d give him would be worth it. Your eyes train back on your book as soon as you hear him enter again.  When he walks in this time, his head and shoulders are slumped forward dejectedly. He pretends to search for something, but the entire time he’s side-eyeing you attempting to gauge your mood. 

“Did I do something, noona? Hmm? Are you okay? Are you hungry? Baby?” He’s getting desperate, coming to kneel before you, tipping his head this way and that, distressed because you still haven’t answered him. You bring the book up higher, almost to your nose, but he still manages to find a way to sneak his head into your space, whiny and nosing along your neck.

“What did I do? Noona! Please don’t be mad. Please tell me.”

You shift in your seat, turning the opposite direction and then you sigh out in frustration. Just from the tiny whimper he releases, you can tell he’s breaking, and it’s getting even harder to hold the facade. He wraps his arms around your waist, small tugs urging you to turn back and face him, but you hold your ground.

Feeling insecure and guilty, he lays his head on your lap and wraps his arms around your legs. He’s sitting on his bottom, legs swept neatly to the side, and you can’t help but want to sneak a peek. You know he won’t see you, his head is turned in the opposite direction, so you quietly you look over your shoulder and it makes you want to cry. His beautiful luscious hair falls in cascades over your lap as he hums softly into your skirt. Gently the pads of his fingers skim up and down your calves and it's when you feel wetness soaking into the material of your skirt that you break.

“Are you crying, Gukie?” At your voice he whips his head in your direction, excited that you’ve finally acknowledged him, but the expression on his face makes you feel like the worst human being on earth. His sweet innocent eyes are full of tears, trails of the liquid lining his soft angelic cheeks. His mouth is turned into the most anguished frown, pink lips trembling. He bites into his bottom lip to control himself, to hide his emotions, but it’s clearly written all over his precious face. And in that moment, you hate yourself for thinking you could prank him in such a way.

You act quickly, heart already torn into a million pieces, stomach flipped upside down with the feeling of regret. “Oh, baby...my sweet baby. Come here.” You pat your lap and he doesn’t wait for further instruction. He jumps up instantly and like a koala he wraps himself completely around your body. He’s holding you so tight, you can barely breathe, but you ignore it; you deserved not to breathe after what you’ve done.

“Nooon..N-noona...I thought...I- ..I didn’t..I’m sorry..”

He’s completely beside himself, hiccuping and whining his apologies into your neck. Unable to stand seeing him in this state, you grab a handful of his hair and gently pull him back to face you. “Stop apologizing...shhh. Baby, it was my fault. You did nothing wrong. I was just playing with you. I’m not really mad. I could never be mad at you.”

He blinks away his tears as best as he can, and a glimmer of a smile starts to appear when you cradle his face in your hands and begin giving him kisses all over. You kiss his nose, cheeks, eyes, chin and even his ears. Soon little giggles are flowing from his lips and his body rocks back and forth with excitement. You grip his hips to still him causing him to open his eyes wide and give his full attention to you. “You’re not mad at me?”

You tuck a rebellious piece of his hair back behind his ear and smile at him tenderly. ”No, never ever. How could I be? You’re my precious angel. You never hurt me or make me mad. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? You’re such a good boy...noona’s good boy...” Your words trail off and so do your fingers; across his cheeks and down to his neck.

When you stop to wrap your fingers around the delicate skin, Jungkook swallows hard, a small sob leaving his lips. “I’m your good boy...” Your fingers tighten slightly, momentarily shocking him. You press your thumb into the column of his neck and pull him close enough to touch your lips. “That’s right, baby. Don’t you forget it. We can’t have you being a bad boy and disappointing your noona, now can we?”

He shakes his head, adjusting himself on your lap, thighs tightening their grip around your hips. He jerks forward once, and you raise an eyebrow surprised at how quickly you can make him fall apart. “So pretty. Look at my sweet boy. Do you like it when your noona claims you, hmm? Are you all mine?”

“Yess...noona..only yours…” he croaks out, and your thumb presses into the tender spot with more force. A lustful gaze consumes your features, and Jungkook rolls his hips once more.

“Show me, doll. Show me how good you are...how pretty you are for me.”

Jungkook feels the heat travel up his neck to his face and he hides himself in your neck. “Noona, please don’t make me.”

“What do you mean, don’t make you? Have you been a bad boy?” You’re curious about his sudden shyness wondering if he did indeed do something that he should not have. He’s never denied you before.

“Is that why you thought you were in trouble, angel? Have you been a bad boy? What have you done?”

“Please don’t be mad...please...please..pleaseee…” He begs against the sensitive skin of your neck, kissing and nipping his way up to your ear. You stop him, pressing your fingers into his thighs. “You’d better show me or I’m going to get upset.”

You try to sound threatening, but the way his tongue tickles your delicate flesh has you losing focus. “I’m not a bad boy..I’m not...I promise. Don’t be mad, noona. PLEASEEEEE.”

His strength being greater than yours, he pushes against your grip and begins to roll into you slowly and sensuously, his length rutting perfectly against your stomach. 

Biting your lip, you hold back the curses you want to say, feeling lost in the sensation that is Jungkook crying out in need for you. “Nooooooonaaaa…my noooona...mine….mine….”

He whines out when you pull his hair roughly causing his neck to stretch back in discomfort. “You’re not going to win this, little one. What the fuck did noona just ask you to do? Do you think that acting like a little desperate slut is going to save you? Such a naughty boy. On your knees.”

You smile when you see his neck flush red. He swallows hard and quickly shuffles to his knees in front of you. His hands are behind him and his legs are spread open. You sit up on the couch and look down at him, happy to see that his head is hanging low between his shoulders in obedience.

“I’m going to give you until the count of three to tell me what you’ve done. I wasn’t mad before, but I am going to be very upset if you keep secrets from me. Spill.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and now you’re even more curious what he could have done.

“One.” Silence. “Two.” Still nothing. “Thr--”

“I’m wearing your panties.”

You stop cold, unsure if you’ve heard him right. Dragging your bottom lip across your teeth, you sit up straighter coming to the edge of the couch. “You what?”

He flinches at your tone, positive that now you really had a reason to be upset with him. “I-...”

“NO..no..I heard you. Fuck. Show me.”

His head jolts up in panic. How could he show you when he was already so embarrassed that he had to admit it to you. Not wanting to push your anger further, he whispers a tiny okay before standing before you.

Nervously he begins unbuckling his pants, but you stop him. “Shirt first, then pants.”

He’s biting his lip so hard he’s sure he’ll bleed, but he does as you ask. At first he struggles, fingers shaking from his emotions. He may be a little embarrassed, but he was also extremely aroused that you would be seeing him like this. Undoing the button, he slides the material of his black jeans down to mid thigh.

The view before you leaves you speechless. His strong thighs bulge as he shifts in place. The contrast of his muscles against the frilly black silk material barely covering his cock sends a surge of arousal down to your core. You almost forget to breathe, sure that if you speak you might make a fool of yourself. He really was so fucking beautiful.

You come even closer and he can feel your breath fanning over his hot length. His cock is straining against the soft material, the tip peeking over slightly, a bead of pre-cum sitting prettily on the slit. Your movements have him shaking, unable to control his body.

“Look at you, my god. You’re such a fucking dirty little boy. You look really pretty, Guk-ah.”

If your words were any dirtier, he’d cum on the spot. You’re so close to him and he’s confused as to whether or not you’re upset. You weren’t acting like you were, but his arousal clouds his mind and he doesn’t really know what he should do. He’s extremely turned on and if you didn’t touch him soon, he’d die.

“Are you mad?” He hides his face in his hands and his abs tighten due to the strain he’s putting himself through. 

“No, I’m not mad. Why did you do this?”

He peeks out between his fingers and you can barely make out what he says, but listen intently nonetheless. “I did it for you. I want to be your good boy. Please…”

“What are you begging me for, Guk-ah? Hmmm?”

You watch as his body trembles and smile when he bucks forward in desperation when you graze your nails over the panty  right where his balls are neatly tucked into the thin material.

“Fuck..noona….I can’t..”

You pull him forward roughly with your hands on his ass, and he has to reach out to steady himself against your shoulders. “I like this...a lot. You like this too, don’t you? Do you like being  my dirty boy? Look at you...so soft….delicate...gorgeous….”

He can’t handle your praises, but he had nowhere to hide, completely exposed before you. Your hand rubbing over his cock has him seeing stars. The feel of the silk and your strokes against his sensitive length make his stomach twist in need. He’s eagerly responding to your touch, but you want to drag it out for as long as possible.

His soft moans and cries are so pretty, high pitched and whiney; you’re addicted. He’s getting more relaxed, swaying in tandem with your movements. His eyes are closed and the salty liquid coating his slit starts flowing out of him in greater amounts.

“Nooona--gah..I’m...close...please…”

You stop immediately knowing you weren’t ready to let him cum. He seeks you out in question, standing pigeon-toed at the way you scrutinize his body. “Come. Come to your noona.”

You pull him by the hand back onto your lap. He looks absolutely stunning, face fucked out and panties all soaked. You would think this was all a dream, except he’s yours...all yours. Skimming your fingers over his chest, he sits on your lap, hands placed neatly on his thighs. You take your time driving him insane, scratching your nails over his tender nipples and muscled abs.

“Would you like to please your noona, baby?” He nods eagerly and you smile. “Good boy. I’m going to ask you to do something for me, and I know you can do it because you love me. You do love me, don’t you?” Again he agrees, shutting his eyes when your hand stops just above his cock. 

“I doo...I love you sooo much...I need you…”

“I know you do, baby. But this time, you’re going to have to wait. You know you’ve done a bad thing by wearing this sexy lingerie without permission. You should know that being a tease is not nice. Only whores tease. Are you a dirty little whore, baby?”

Even though his intention was not to be disobedient, being a tease was, and being your little whore even more.  “I-”

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” Wanting to ease him out of his shyness, you pull the band of the panties back and let them snap back against the head of his dick. He cries out and without realizing, grabs your arms in reaction. His hold is tight and you like how even though he could tackle you to the ground and destroy your pussy, he restrains himself. Sliding your hand past the band, you cup his balls and lightly caress over the large vein throbbing on his member.

“I’m sorry, puppy, but you’ve been much too quiet. I’m starting to suspect that you did want to get me angry, and that you wanted to get punished for it.”

When you wrap your fingers around his cock he jerks his hips forward and lets his head fall onto your chest. “YES! I did...I’m sorry..please.”

You tsk lightly running a finger along the back of his spine as you tug at him mercilessly. You continue your actions, enjoying how he breaks down before you. His groans reverberate against your neck, now his comfort zone. You don’t relent, twisting and turning him easily with the slick of his cock, edging him closer to his high. The friction from the silk material and your hand has him keening. When he bites into your shoulder and twitches his thighs, you let him go, watching as he shudders. His hands on his thighs, he releases a slew of curse words against your skin, and you chuckle.

“That was for being a desperate little liar.”

He starts to whine, nearly crying when you tease the head of his cock with your index finger. You slowly wind around it in circles and he’s unable to keep his hand where they should be, needing to wrap them around your shoulders in search of an anchor.

“Baby boy?” You whisper against the shell of his ear and he groans in reply. “I’m not going to get you to where you want to go. Because you seem to be so desperate, even disobeying your noona, you’re going to make yourself cum.”

“Mmm..ngh…” He mumbles cutely, his throat scratchy from all the heavy breathing.

“Don’t be a brat. Show noona what a good boy you are.”

He brings his head up and places his forehead against yours looking deeply into your eyes. He’s beyond aroused, eyes dilated and face flushed in distress. He begs you softly, turning his face in order to steal a kiss. You allow it and he smiles happy that he can get away with getting what he wants. As he begins kissing you, his hips take on life, aching to get himself to his ecstasy.

His tongue glides against yours, and with each roll, he sobs out in pleasure. You rub your thighs together, desperately in need of calming the heat that grows with each and every thrust Jungkook delivers. He’s completely wrecked rutting faster and faster against your stomach. 

“My good boy. You feel so good. Are you going to cum?”

“Yes...yes...y- oh god…” 

“Don’t you dare until I say so.”

“O--kay, but noona..please...I can’t..I--”

“You’d better, or I’ll get up and leave.”

“NO! No..please…” His strokes slow down, but his breathing is ragged and sweat coats his brow. He rotates his hips in circular motions slowly and you reach your hands around to grab his ass. Helping him, you press him into you harder, and Jungkook is so close to breaking down he’s crying.

“There you go. You’re so good. I need you to help me now. Can you make me feel good?”

“Yes..please. I wanna make you feel good.” He pouts cutely and you kiss him before adjusting yourself on the couch so that your head is on the arm rest and Jungkook fits himself between your legs.

“I want you to kiss you noona in her special place. Be my good boy and make me feel good.”

He doesn’t delay quickly hiking up your skirt only to find that you aren’t wearing any underwear. He delays for a moment, but your eyes prompt him to continue. The panties he still has on keep rubbing against his skin and as he adjusts himself onto his belly, the pressure on his cock makes him lose concentration. Your beautiful cunt is right in front of him and the smell of your arousal puts extreme stress on his control.

He tests the waters, dipping down to lick you up once. You shudder in reaction and suddenly he feels more in control. Hooking his hands under your thighs he pulls you closer, mouth devouring you eagerly. He continues his assault, pushing his tongue into your opening, tasting you and using the friction of the material beneath him to bring himself closer to his high.

Your hands in his hair eggs him on, and when you tug at it, he groans into your heat, sending shockwaves down to the tips of your toes. You begin to push up into his mouth, holding his head down, heels planted firmly to the cushion below you for leverage. 

He moans, gets more desperate and is so close, but he won’t let go, not until you say. “Just like that...fuck...you’re soo good...soo good...right there..”

You let his hair go in favor of pulling your own, so lost in the bliss his mouth gives. The slurping sounds filling the room excite you further, and when he pulls your clit between his teeth, you know you’ve lost.

“Guk-ah...cum..NOW!”

He hears you loud and clear, working his hips faster as he brings a finger into you right as your high hits you. He drives the digit in, adding another in return for the punishment you’ve put him through. He plunges them in and out faster and faster until your hips rise up off the couch as your orgasms hit you in succession. Detaching from you, he gets on his hands and knees and jerks himself in desperation quickly reaching his high.

Weak and exhausted, you fall back down only to see Jungkook’s position. His head is dipped down, shoulders flexed and back arched as he releases himself all over the pillow beneath him. When he empties himself entirely, he pushes the pillow down to the floor and slinks between your legs to place his head on your belly.

“Fuck..Guk-ah, you did such a good job. So good for me...I love you.”

He nuzzles into your stomach, arms wrapping around your waist and he moans out in complaint. “I’m always a good boy. You punished me for nothing.”

“I what? Excuse me, but are you going to complain about how this prank turned out because from what I saw, you benefited greatly.”

He turns his head to smile at you and shakes his head no. Biting his bottom lip, he slides his chin down and begins to suckle on your skin leaving little purple bruises in random spots . You lay there enjoying his attention, lazily running your fingers through his hair.

“That’s what I thought.”

__

↳ All works are ©️ jkeuphoriadreamland Do not upload, copy, translate, steal any of my works.

#btsnoonanet #smutcentralnet #ggukienet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #jungkook smut #btssmut #sub!jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #dom!reader #noona!kink #jungkook noona kink #btsbookclub #kwordsmiths #babyboy!jungkook #goldenclosetnet

[thebiasrekkers]

Love? That has no meaning to me when you were born to kill. Everything I touch, withers away and dies. You will be no exception.

You guys haven’t killed me yet.

That’s because you still have a use and once that done? You will be thrown away like so many before you and.....others I know.

Fandom: VIXX/ Vampire the Masquerade

Fandom work: “Star of Fate” by Admin L of thebiasrekkers

#kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #thekpopnetwork #vixx #jung taekwoon #vampire!vixx #vampire!au #vixx leo

[xiubaek-13]

Lost In Translation - Chapter 38 - USA

Requested: No Genre: Canon-AU Pairing: ? (at this stage undecided) x Reader

Warnings: Nothing in this chapter

Word Count: 7,859

A/N: Look at me posting again in a matter of weeks. Fingers crossed for me to keep this up! I hope you enjoy the next instalment of this series. If you want to help me out, reblog this for me (you don’t have to though, so no pressure there). 

***

[1:37am] Baek: So… what did you think?

[1:37am] You: Baek, I am so hooked on this show it isn’t even funny!  Everyone is great in it, you laugh, smile, yell and cry all in one episode. Istg if you spoil it for me I will fly to Japan and strangle you.

[1:37am] Baek: So violent, don’t worry I’m not gonna spoil you. Your essay length reviews and live reactions are too good to ruin.

[1:38am] Baek: Plus I don’t want to be strangled or for you to go to jail for maiming Byun Baekhyun. 

[1:38am] Baek: Who is your favourite prince? Be honest, I’ll know if you lie to me, even via text.

[1:38am] You: I mean it’s probably obvious.

[1:38am] Baek: I know it’s not the 8th. You hate him for some reason.

[1:38am] You: FOR VALID REASONS! He has the spine of a wet rag and wandering eyes. Cannot be trusted. He is why we don’t trust men.

[1:39am] Baek: So come on. I’m not gonna keep guessing. Some of us performed a 3hr concert tonight and have another one to do tomorrow.

[1:39am] You: The 4th prince. As intended by the show since he’s the lead. But his character is just so interesting!

[1:39am] Baek: Plus he’s hot.

[1:39am] You: Well that’s just a given. 

[1:39am] You: But it’s more that Lee Joon-gi is a great actor. He just pulls focus. The hair and the mask definitely help with the visual appeal though.

[1:39am] You: Anyway, enough about your super popular show Baek. How was the concert? How’s Tokyo?

[1:40am] Baek: Lmao, I’ll be sure to tell Joon-gi hyung that. ;)

[1:40am] Baek: The concert went really well. It’s been great to have Yixing with us this time, he was so sad to have missed out last tour. Fans have been wonderful and everyone is in good condition so it’s fun. Tokyo is great as well, we always love coming here. We film for our concert DVD tomorrow night I think.

[1:40am] Baek: There’s even talk of a Japanese CBX debut next year which would be awesome.

[1:40am] You: I’m glad it’s going well. I can’t wait until I get to watch one when we go to America. So far I’ve only gotten to see you guys perform 1 or 2 songs at a time, a whole concert will be incredible.

[1:40am] You: Tell everyone I miss them and that I’m looking forward to all of you coming back in a few weeks. I know I won’t see much of any of you with all of the end of year shows coming up but it will be nice to see you guys back here.

[1:41am] Baek: You need to stop watching my show. It makes you all sappy when you msg me lol. But I’ll pass that on. Trust me, we look forward to being home and catching up with you too!

[1:41am] You: :P Go to sleep diva. You have a whole concert to perform tomorrow. 

[1:41am] You: Shut up, I’m allowed to miss the lot of you.

[1:41am] Baek: I am pretty tired. Need my beauty sleep if I’m to be on a concert DVD.

[1:41am] Baek: And we miss you too. Night night :)

You toss your phone on your bed and sigh. You miss the guys. They’ve been in Japan on tour for a month now and SM didn’t send you as they had a Japanese tutor waiting for them over there. They’d sporadically kept in touch for short English lessons via video call but at the moment you were benched. EXO were huge in Japan so the company’s focus was 100% on making sure all 9 members could deliver their best for their fans.  It would have been nice to see their Japanese audience, they always spoke so fondly of their time in Japan. Plus, you know, you could have had a free trip to Japan. They might be tied to schedules but you would have been pretty free to roam about and explore.

It was nice to have free time for yourself but you missed the daily interactions with the 9 men that had invaded your life. They’d had the audacity to drop their Lotto comeback, speed through promotions and then jet off to the land of the rising sun, leaving you still picking your jaw up off the floor at how well the high roller mafia style concept suited them.  Junmyeon with that pink hair, Jongdae with the billowing white shirt and wine, Chanyeol with the tattoos, scars and red hair, Yixing thrusting to the sound of a ka ching, Jongin with black hair and murder, Minseok with the ashy blonde undercut, Kyungsoo’s short black hair and crazy acting, Sehun’s dance solo and Baekhyun hiding that he’d been working out until that damned mv. It was all too much and before you could give them a collective scolding for doing THAT to you, they were on a plane and gone. There was only one word for it. Rude. 

You also knew that when they returned it would be to record their winter album and to prepare for their end of year stages then before you knew it you’d all be off to America. The whole purpose of your tutoring for them was coming up fast and you weren’t sure how to feel about the potential end of working with them in sight. Sure, they were your neighbours and your friends but you’d also gotten a lot of satisfaction out of successfully expanding their english vocabulary (even outside of the private lessons). It was hard to deny that you’d grown very close to them and when the time came to leave and move on to your next contract… well you weren’t going to think about that yet. Your brain just would not let you, or was it your heart? There had been so much activity right before and after they left; Lotto, CBX’s debut, Yixing’s solo debut, Scarlet Heart Ryeo… it was all too much to take in by yourself. Everything was fine. As long as you didn’t dwell on the future. 

The free time provided your brain with an unforeseen amount of time to ponder the what ifs and you did all that you could to keep yourself busy. You’d tried cooking new recipes (the ones that worked you sent photos of to Kyungsoo), watched movies (and sent recommendations to Junmyeon and Chanyeol for ones they should watch), reading and shopping (with added input from Sehun and Jongin), and when nothing else worked you hijacked their gaming console and played immersive sandbox games (even though Baekhyun wanted you to play FPS’s and send him the videos of you failing) and sampled wines or made new cocktails (Minseok was interested in these the most). But it was too quiet. All the time. The nine of them had worked their way into your daily routines without you even noticing it until they were gone. The silence was deafening and it wasn’t until there was the absence of them that you realised how much of your time was now spent with them. 

In an attempt to keep your sanity in check you went to the SM building to see if any of the rookies wanted English lessons in their free time. A handful found time to seek you out and take advantage of your skills. It felt good to be teaching again, it was the one constant that you needed to feel normal while you were in Korea. So teaching phrasing, pronunciation and new words to rookies brought a smile to your face. SM were fine with you doing this ad hoc work as long as it didn’t detract from the rookies’ already packed workloads. Also, they weren’t paying you for it so who were they to look a gift horse in the mouth? You never realised just how many members of NCT there were until you had most of them in your classroom (for want of a better word). Did SM have to make each new boy group larger than the one preceding it? You’d kicked Ten & Johnny out of your class once you realised that they were trolling you with their English skills and reduced maximum class numbers to 5. NCT attendance dropped after that, most of them being too busy to attend and a few that had only attended to watch Ten & Johnny’s charade. Once their numbers dropped more girl group members attended which was a breath of fresh air. Students were students but large groups of males always resulted in a difficult lesson.

Some of the older SM groups sought you out as well. You’d had members from Super Junior and Shinee find you for lessons as well as friendly conversation. A few of you started having a weekly dinner which you enjoyed immensely. The funniest part was that the guys knew that they could make their juniors in EXO jealous that they were hanging out with their neighbour and teacher. There had been no hiding from Heechul, Eunhyuk, Taemin or Kibum how much the EXO guys liked you. That said they definitely weren’t aware of the intimacy you shared with the 9 members, just that you were very close friends and colleagues. Their antics made the absence of 9 men feel less overwhelming and conversations were always enlightening. They had fun but were also not afraid to discuss more serious issues or air their grievances with the industry. 

***

Junmyeon waved as he tried to usher the others out the door. “We’ll see you when we get back.” 

“But it’s like 11am, the show doesn’t start until 8pm!” You pouted. 

“Aww, she’s missed us.” Chanyeol cooed, pulling you into a hug, making you huff. Kyungsoo chuckled and ruffled your hair as he passed you. 

“We have to fly to Hong Kong, go do a practice run at the venue for on site camera work and for our levels. Then we have to go back to a studio that SM hired to practice for a few hours, then back to the venue for hair, make up and wardrobe, interviews, red carpet and the actual award show.”  Junmyeon explained. 

“And food at some point.” Sehun added.

“But you guys only flew in an hour ago! You literally got home 5 minutes ago and now you’re leaving again.” You glanced at Yixing and Jongdae’s tired faces and added. “Have you even slept?”

“We can sleep on the plane before and after the award show. Or on the plane tomorrow. Might even sleep in the car now if you let us go.” Baekhyun grumbled.

“Manager hyung is coming back upstairs guys. We’ve gotta go. Now.” Minseok called from the hallway.

“I guess I’ll mind the couch while you’re gone then.” You mumbled. Chanyeol laughed, patted your head and followed the others as they left the dorm one by one. 

He stopped at the door and turned his head to look back at you. “Make sure to watch noona. We’ve got something special planned!” He winked and then left. They looked exhausted but they were off for another full day of travel and performing. The makeup team have their work cut out for them today if they are going to hide the dark circles under their eyes and the pallid colour in their skin, the kind you get when you are run down and overworked.

Special? What did he mean by special? MAMA stages were always over the top and cool but you’d kind of thought that this year with all of the travel and the international concerts so close to the end of year shows that they wouldn’t have had time to practice anything new. Would it be a new arrangement for one of their hits like the metal version of Mama that you screamed at Kyungsoo about because of how amazing it was or would it be new choreo and stage performances like previous years? Could it possibly be including a non title song like Drop That that would make the entire venue go crazy? You expected a dance solo from one of the dance line but outside of that you were now running an infinite number of possibilities through your mind. 

To prevent yourself from making a flow chart of possibilities and sticking them to the wall like a detective trying to solve a convoluted murder mystery, and definitley not like a crazy person, you decided that you should pack for America. You were leaving tomorrow after all. The guys would be up in first class but you and the other staff members would be in economy, not that you expected anything different. You’d hoped for business class though. A girl could dream.

You pulled your suitcase out from the cupboard and promptly decided that you needed to make a list of everything that you needed to pack otherwise you’d end up repacking at least four times before tomorrow. You’d need warm clothes since it was winter, clothes to work in, comfy clothes and potential lesson clothes. You had no way of knowing if Minseok or Baekhyun would request a lesson while over there but it would probably be their last chance to do it since this trip was the whole reason for you being employed by SM. Once it was over… you didn’t want to think about that. Thinking about that made your insides hurt. You turned your focus back to the task at hand and located the items you’d need for the lessons that you had planned for them if they asked.  Once you finished packing you decided to nap to pass the time. You checked your phone and set an alarm for later in the afternoon then opened kkt. The chat was oddly quiet today which only told you how tired the guys were. 

***

When you woke up you noticed two things. One - you were starving and Two - MAMA had started. That couldn’t be right though, your alarm was supposed to wake you around 5pm. You must have overslept by hours. Thankfully you hadn’t missed their performance yet so you quickly ordered some food to the dorm and watched the other groups perform. Every group was talented and everyone put in that little bit extra when it came to the end of year stages so you had a lot of fun watching what everyone had come up with. 

After what felt like an eternity it was finally time for them to perform. You were nervous and you had no idea why. They were exhausted but they were veterans at this now and you knew that they wouldn’t appear anywhere near as tired as they looked when they were at home earlier today. You’d caught glimpses of the stage outfits during the show and you were in love with the jackets with red lining, the chains, the harnesses and everyone’s hair and makeup looked flawless. They were going to perform Monster but you had no clue as to what other song would make an appearance. 

The lights shone on a platform above the audience and the intro for Transformer started. This was going to be great. You watched the guys execute their sharp dance moves in formation on the platform and heard the screams from the audience. Exo-L’s lightsticks lit up everywhere, making it feel like an EXO concert rather than an award show. The raised platform added drama to the performance as the 9 members lined up and executed their choreography flawlessly. About 30 seconds into the performance you noticed during one move that Chen had become a little bit distracted and as you continued to watch you noticed that he was taking off his jacket and tying it around his waist. He must have split his pants, the poor guy. Ever the professional, he resourcefully fixed the issue and moved on with the performance, not missing any of his lines or any of the choreo. You would not have noticed it unless you were watching him. He carried on like nothing had happened. The performance continued.

Chen ripping his pants. Lay’s powerful dancing. Kai & Sehun’s dance solo, Monster and Baekhyun’s ending dance solo. That on top of vocals, vocals, vocals. If you hadn’t seen them you’d never guess that they were exhausted. The small mistakes were covered up as seamlessly as possible and what they couldn’t cover up they let happen and moved along as though nothing had happened. You’d have to ask Baekhyun about his solo because you were certain that there was more to it than what you saw. He wasn’t one to undo buttons on his shirt without a purpose. You’d sought out a fancam and spotted the metal disc that was covering his heart - it must have been supposed to light up. 

Try as you might you still couldn’t grasp that this performance was just for an end of year show. They did not have to go that hard. EXO were at that level where they could show up, sing a ballad and perform their single but no, these guys had to go ahead and produce a mini movie that tied in to their overall concept from debut.  Even with the performance going as smoothly as planned you were floored by it. 

The guys would be flying home very late tonight so you decided to whip up a late night snack for them and leave it in the fridge for them to devour before passing out. It had to be something Korean, they had only just returned from Japan and were about to set off for America for a few weeks, they had to be craving the tastes from their homeland. Something that didn’t require you to leave the building either. You made your way to the kitchen and searched through their cupboards. They were oddly bare since the guys had been gone for so long. All you could find were various packets of instant noodles and a pack of fried onions. If you went and got some of the beef from your apartment you could make Jjapaguri for them. They’d like that, you were certain of it. It wasn’t too heavy but it would be comforting and it was such a korean dish that it would hit that place inside each one of them that had been longing for korean food, a taste of home, before they left the country again. 

You ended up bringing up most of the beef from your fridge and using it in the jjapaguri along with the noodles from the guys’ cupboards. Your group chat told you that they’d landed in Korea and would be home in about an hour. Traffic at this late hour would mean that it wouldn’t take too long for them to make the trip from the airport to the apartment. You prepared the ingredients carefully and timed it as best you could so that they’d walk in to the smell of the beef and the noodles. In your head you imagined it like in those old cartoons when a character would float to the kitchen nose first because of the delicious smell of the food. If they got held up for too long you could not promise that you would refrain from eating the food, it just smelled too good. 

When you thought that they should almost be home you left a little note next to the 9 bowls you’d left out about their performance and to make sure that they lifted the lid of the pot on the stove. Then you made your exit and headed back to your own apartment. If you’d stayed they’d want to stay up late and talk but you decided that what they needed more than anything right now was a bowl of noodles and sleep. There would be time to catch up once you all landed on American soil.

***

“So remind me again how I ended up sitting with you?” You asked Yixing for what had to be the third time in the past ten minutes. Not that you were mad to be sitting with him, rather you were still processing how it was feasible that you were in first class and the rest of the staff (excluding one manager and two security guards) were in economy. 

“I explained to our manager that I hadn’t been able to have a lesson in person with you for months and I wanted to take advantage of our long flight to go over some words and phrases.” 

You scrunched your face. “But you told me that you hired a tutor for your studio.”

“Shhh.” 

“Your English is better than everyone’s at this point. How on earth did they buy that lie? Since when do you lie Yixing?!” 

“When I miss a dear friend a lot and would rather sit with them on a long haul flight than my manager who snored loudly the whole way back from Hong Kong last night.” 

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. So yeah, I lied. I had good reason to though. I have missed you and I know that you don’t usually snore so I felt like it was a safe bet to get you to sit with me.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation as you catch up on everything that happened while Yixing was away. He tells you all about setting up his studio, all of the issues they had with getting it off the ground, preparing his debut solo and the guilt he felt for branching out on his own. The guys had shut him down on that real fast and hyped him up. They refused to let him feel bad, like he was abandoning them in order to grow as an artist. Some fans, though you refused to call them as such, had decided that Lay’s solo album meant he was leaving EXO and had used them to gain popularity to launch his own career in China. As far as you were concerned those people could catch a door to the face. The Yixing you knew worked even during his down time. He was always making music and to finally see the fruits of that labour made you ecstatic. He told you about how he had made some songs with Jongdae but then lost the flash drive that had everything he’d ever made on it and how Jongdae refused to talk to him for a week. They’d since made up - Dae thought he hadn’t lost the drive but didn’t want to use the songs they created together. As soon as the other knocked some sense into him he felt devastated for Yixing. He lost about 400 files and was so disheartened about it. Baek taught him about cloud storage after that and the importance of backups. 

For good measure you threw in a few English lesson moments to ensure their manager didn’t send you back to economy. 

“Do you think we can get away with putting a movie on with English audio as a lesson?” He asked as he held back a yawn.

“I think we can put it on then you can fall asleep. Everyone else is napping and I don’t think they expect us to do lessons the whole time. We need breaks before revising.” You smiled as you flicked through your options. “What do you want to watch the first ten minutes of before passing out? You must be exhausted.”

“Something light hearted and animated? I dunno, you pick.” He yawned.

“Ever seen Emperor’s New Groove?” You asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I recommend watching it again so that you see the whole movie but for now, enjoy the beginning of the movie and sleep well.” You selected the movie and made yourself comfy in your reclined seat. Yixing maneuvered his so that it went completely flat, like a bed, and curled up in his blanket. He napped on and off, too engrossed in the movie to fully check out and get the rest he so needed.. He loved Kronk with all of his being and was perplexed by Yzma to the point of mumbling half asleep questions at you like What happened to the broccoli? Why do they have that lever? Is Kuzko really going to build the water park? Why are the kids Chanyeol & Baekhyun? You answered as succinctly as you could and continued to urge him to sleep. Once the credits rolled you selected the most boring movie you could find and put it on. Less than ten minutes into it Yixing was in a deep sleep.

You smiled to yourself, you’d missed him while he’d been away more than you realised. You missed the others as well but he’d only been back for a short time before they all left you so you hadn’t really gotten much time to hang out. You checked the flight path and saw that you still had about 8 hours left in the flight so you decided to try and catch some zzz’s as well. 

***

You realised that you had a significantly better flight than the rest of the staff but no one was immune to the jetlag or the desire to become one with the hotel bed. If you weren’t actually required at the rehearsal then you honestly would have ordered room service and never left your bed. But unfortunately you actually had to do your job. All eyes would be on you to ensure that the guys could deliver their ments in decent, possibly even great English. The lessons you had tailored for seven of the members would be tested and you hoped that the fundamental lesson had been retained and practiced rather than sidelined by the memories of sex.

You’d been in concert arenas before but usually you were in attendance as a fan. You’d never been inside one while it was empty. The atmosphere was so different. It lacked the frenetic energy and anticipation from the crowd to energise the performer. Everything echoed. Every word could be heard loud and clear. You were suddenly nervous. What if you hadn’t been as good a teacher as the guys told you you were? What if they messed up? What if it all crashed and burned? You stood side of stage and watched as the guys rehearsed their opening songs, adjusting choreo for the stage, the levels in their in-ears and mics and took in the layout of the arena. One of their managers handed you a headset which you looked at quizzically. You were informed that you would have a mic to translate for the guys if they reverted to Korean or had issues with their ments. They didn’t want the show to come hit a low point or stall due to the language barrier. The look you were given told you that this was a contingency that they hoped to not have to use. 

So you watched and waited for the moment that they would deliver their ments and hoped like hell that they’d remember everything you taught them. You had no idea how Baek or Minseok would do since they’d only had their group lessons with you so they did not have a set way to recall the lines, at least not to your knowledge. Plus they’d been focused on their Japanese recently and traditionally were not the best at other languages. Beak could mimic anyone but he also seemed to only retain curse words in his memory. A prime example being the Cantonese that he picked up at their concert where Yixing was told he had a big and cute butt. The fans thought it was hilarious but the managers were less impressed with his antics. And Minseok, dear Minseok. Languages were not his forte. He might have started out in EXO-M but he liked to joke that he could barely speak Korean, let alone any other language.

They took their positions and delivered their opening ment. Truth be told it went better than expected. They tripped over some lines and pronunciation but for the most part it made sense and could be understood. As expected Baekhyun and Minseok struggled the most, needing you to read their lines and have them repeat them. They blamed jet lag but you had a feeling that it was the lack of one on one lessons that were the largest factor. Yixing, Junmyeon and Sehun did the best which made sense to you. You took a moment as you watched them in their formation - starting with Chanyeol and ending with Sehun and smiled. You’d done it. You’d gotten through the months of hard work, schedule changes, late nights and homesickness and now you were here. This was a huge event for them and you could tell that they were nervous but excited to see their western fans.  

As they continued to rehearse their choreo for the show you checked your call schedule. In a couple of hours they’d break for a quick lunch then they’d have to start the process of getting changed and having their hair and make up done. Following that they had 3 interviews then just over an hour until the show began. On paper it looked like half a day before the crowds would pour in and the pre show jitters would commence but you knew it would be here in the blink of an eye. 

Once the guys leave the stage you are whisked into a quick meeting with their managers. For the most part they are happy with the level of English that the guys have mastered but they have concerns about some of them forgetting their lines once nerves and adrenaline kick in. “I have had one on one sessions with 7 of the members and taught them a specific way to recall their lines in situations like that. Only two members have been too busy to have this kind of lesson but after tonight's concert I can have those lessons with them if they are required.” You assured their managers that you had it covered and that you were prepared to do additional lessons and coaching to ensure that everything went smoothly.

“What kind of specific ways did you teach them to recall their lines?”  One asked.

“Each member has a different way to recall their lines. For example I paired the lines of Jongdae’s ment with songs that he likes and then tested him repeatedly and in various orders to see how well he could recall them. I paired Jongin’s lines with lines in a storybook, Kyungsoo’s with steps in a recipe, Yixing’s with dance moves. You get the idea. After their initial lesson I would prompt them at random to recall a line from their ment and from that repetitive testing I am confident that my methods have worked.” You responded. This seemed to satisfy their managers but they made sure that you had your levels checked in case you had to translate for the guys during the concert. It was odd to hear your voice echo around the empty venue, it made you very aware of how you sounded, your accent and how much you hated public speaking. You were fine as a teacher but talking to a large crowd, especially one as huge as tonight’s was going to be, caused you some anxiety.

You finished up testing your mic and joined the crew backstage as they had lunch. You grabbed yourself a plate of food and went to sit down but at the last minute Kyungsoo called you over to the table that the members were at. You took your plate over to them and sat next to him. “How is everyone?” You asked.

“Fucking starving.” Replied Chanyeol, his mouth full of burrito. You laughed at his reply as the others scolded him or shook their heads. 

“I’m tired now but it’ll go as soon as we finish getting ready.” Sehun added as he picked at his rice bowl. “I didn’t sleep well on the flight.”

“He was too busy organising private shopping trips to get rest. He’d made a list of boutiques and designers he wanted to visit before we left and spent the flight drafting requests to visit.” Junmyeon yawned. “As soon as we landed he sent them all off and has been booking everything in.” 

“I want to go warm up some more and go over some moves with Mihawk hyung.” Jongin said as he put his chopsticks down and made motions that he was going to leave the table. “I’ll see you at the interviews noona.” He flashed you a warm smile as he stood, before wandering off to find their choreographer.

  You continued to eat as the guys chatted amongst themselves, often including you in the conversation. It was nice to see all of them together again. It brought back memories of early on in your relationship with them when you made them dinner. Food and great company, was there anything better? What impressed you even more was how they joked with the other members of staff. They could easily be dismissive of them but instead they treated everyone like they were all part of one big family. 

You had a quick nap while the guys got ready, some of them also napping in the chair while the cordi noonas did their make up and hair. You’d laughed when they’d told you that they preferred it when the guys slept because they moved less, especially in the beagle line’s case. 

It came up faster than you expected but before you knew it it was time for the interviews to begin. You were there for moral support and to assist in translating. It was not expected for the guys to be able to hold their entire interview in English, not if they wanted to fully express their feelings and meanings. The English was short sentences and easy interactions. Things went well and your favourite interview by far was with Ellie from iHeartRadio. She was Korean-American so she could hold her own with asking questions in English and Korean and could understand their answers, which made your life easy. She made the atmosphere informal and fun, had the guys laughing and joking around which made for great footage for her and her team. It was the last interview of the day and it left the guys happy and excited for the concert. Jongin laughed through almost the entire interview and Baekhyun was repeating english phrases right next to Junmyeon’s ear which was cracking everyone else up. You just knew that ‘C’mon man’ was going to stick around for the rest of this tour.

***

What could be said about the concert to adequately describe the euphoria you felt? The correct words escaped your brain. You’d never experienced anything like it before. It was loud, like so damn loud - fans screamed at the top of their lungs, did the fan chants as best as they could, and gave the guys so much energy. The music was somehow loud enough to be heard over the fans (and probably in a 5 mile radius around the venue) and the members' vocals were clear. The frenetic energy made everyone hyped and you just knew that they’d all collapse once the adrenaline wore off. How they could do this again tomorrow night was beyond you. It seemed like they went non stop for three and a half hours. Sure there were ballad sections or songs with light choreo, sub unit songs and vcr breaks but those ballads required vocal energy, those sub unit songs had less members so each member had more lines and more stage to fill, and those vcr’s entertained the crowd while the guys rushed around backstage and got into new costumes, rehydrated and had their make up touched up. It was an absolute whirlwind backstage and you often felt like you were in the way so you hid near a monitor and let the organised chaos revolve around you. 

The opening songs were a smack in the face with talent. It was ballsy to open with 3 remixes, all incredible - MAMA, Monster and Wolf. Each song was better than the last which seemed impossible since each song presented itself as the best version of that song in existence. As soon as Wolf finished you had a sudden rush of nerves as their introductory ment was about to begin. It was the easiest of the three ments but you wanted so badly for them to ace it. There were a couple of small mistakes but all in all they had done great. The crowd was ecstatic that they’d spoken in English instead of using a translator. Sure the ments were shorter and less playful than ones they’d seen on DVD’s but the guys were far less confident in English than they were speaking Korean or Japanese. 

After the ments came White Noise, Thunder, Playboy & Artificial Love. You renamed this section of the show the thot section because each of these songs and their chroeos were full of sensual moves, grinding and hip trusts. You actually hit Mihawk’s arm when Artificial Love neared its end and the blindfolds came out. He laughed at your reaction but diverted your attention to the monitors to watch Jongin & Yixing’s duo dance. You couldn’t recall if he also closed your mouth when your jaw dropped open at the two of them. 

In true EXO form they followed the thottiest song with the cutest VCR, pulling a 180 on everyone's emotions. The guys rushed past as you watched the clips of them taking ‘you’ on a date. It was ridiculously cute, completely pulling your mind from the gutter (where it had definitely been for the previous 20 minutes). A blur of white rushed past you as they headed back to the stage, 2 acoustic guitars going with them. You waited, anticipating what was to come.

Even though you’d spotted the guitars you still weren’t prepared for the acoustic set. It was heaven to the ears and showcased the absolute vocal talent in the group. It was easy to say that weaker members were hidden by music and backing tracks but acoustic? That laid all the cards on the table and those 9 guys did not disappoint. You smiled the whole way through My Lady, My Turn To Cry, Moonlight, Love, Love, Love, Lady Luck, and Call Me Baby. It was incredible and uplifting. They jumped back into choreo for Tender Love, Love Me Right and Stronger. The concept of time became irrelevant to you at this point. You wanted this experience to go on forever, there was no way you could ever grow tired of seeing them perform. They were at their best while doing what they loved and it showed in their stage presence, their faces and the light in their eyes. 

Another VCR played as they rushed back past you. This time you smiled and called out praises as they went by which earned you a goofy smile from Chanyeol and a bright laugh from Jongin. Jongdae high fived you on his way past and Baekhyun beamed. The VCR was ridiculous. Elf costumes and excessive green screens gave you second hand embarrassment. Then you saw the pointy hats and how low one sat on Kyungsoo’s head and burst out laughing. They were grown men and this section had them dressed in such a childish way. You doubled over as they headed back to the stage.

The lights came up and the EXO elves rushed back out on the stage, yelling, screaming and just hamming it up before jumping into Heaven, Girl x Friend & 3,6,5. The fans ate up the costumes and over the top moves the guys made. Another VCR started and it showed a backstage tape of Tender Love. Someone had given Chanyeol free reign with the camera so he and the guys had filmed their own little clip for the song as they wandered around backstage. It must have been filmed in Korea or Japan by the look of it. As soon as the clip finished another started. This one was opened on Chanyeol & Sehun sitting on stage and rapping then panned to Kai dancing, then Lay, then Sehun. So far this one was your favourite VCR. It had started out showing the playful nature of EXO and ended showcasing the different dance styles of the dance line. 

As soon as the lights came up and the iconic opening pose for Overdose was seen by the crowd they lost it. It was the first song where you could barely hear the guys singing because the crowd was so loud. Transformer (with no split pants this time) and Lightsaber came after. You wished that they had been able to bring their full stage production to the USA because you knew that this song was made perfect by the water and light saber dancing. Sadly this crowd would not have the water section.

It seemed too soon for the second ment to be happening but they had reached the halfway part of the concert. You knew from watching previous DVD’s that this was the longer ment on paper. The final ment always ended up being the longest due to the guys often getting emotional and then spending 15 minutes saying goodbye but this one had the most lines. You felt your nerves return and you fidgeted as you waited for them to catch their breaths and start speaking. You started to relax as they got through their parts. The crowd encouraged them when they flubbed a line or couldn’t remember the right word. It was endearing to watch. You waited, ready to step in if needed but they spoke to each other in Korean to help each other out with words before jumping back into their lines and the fans ate it up. You could feel the pride swelling in your chest at their (and your) hard work paying off. Once they finished the second ment you knew you were off the hook until the end of the concert so you prepared yourself to enjoy what you liked to call the clubbing section. It was high energy, full of choreo and in this case - would involve DJ Chanyeol. 

Sehun, Chanyeol and Minseok were the first to return to the stage. They had given you huge grins as they passed you. Minseok had been bouncing on his feet to keep his energy up. You swore he was like the energizer bunny, never not moving when he was on stage. He would jump and run and dance his heart out, never looking tired until he’d finished the whole show. Do It Together started and the crowd vibed to the song before erupting as Full Moon followed. The other members returned to the stage as the song progressed and once they were all there Chanyeol’s DJ setup was rolled to the centre of the stage. The opening riff for Drop That sounded and the crowd’s energy peaked. It was impossible to be in that venue and not get a hit of adrenaline from the crowd, even backstage. The lights dimmed and the members' shoes glowed as Chanyeol began his DJ set, the guys dancing along and keeping the crowd’s energy at its peak. All you could see was light up shoes doing footwork and you wanted to follow along with the moves. 

The DJ set wound down and fan favourites Lucky & Run followed, bringing the energy down from hype in the club levels to partying with my best friends levels. The guys ran across the stage and somehow still seemed to have energy. You knew if you tried this that you’d barely last one song but the years of hard work and the number of concerts they’d had brought their stamina to these incredible levels. The last VRC played and it tugged at the heart strings. Sing For You was a song that held a special place in the fans hearts and they sang along and waved their light sticks as the guys did their final costume change of the night. Dressed in jeans and Exo’rdium shirts they passed you on their way back to the stage for a final time, the fatigue from the concert finally starting to show on their faces but with that fatigue was exhilaration and joy. They knew they had two songs left and that those two songs would garner a huge response. Once that was done it would be time for the final ment of the night. Then the event would be over. It felt like it had only started half an hour ago but in reality it was nearing the three hour mark. Growl & Lucky One were met with huge reactions from the crowd. Growl being THAT song that had catapulted the group into success and Lucky One being THAT ending song where one member would do the most in the final dance. Tonight that member was Baekhyun and his over the top dancing had cracked the members up so much that whoever was singing had to turn away from him to stabilise his voice. 

It was a party and everyone had had a phenomenal time. It was one of those rare parties where you didn’t want to go home, you wanted the feeling that you had at the end of that last song to last many more hours. But, it was not to be. The guys took their places on stage for their final ment and you watched intently, your throat feeling choked up with emotion because of everything you had experienced tonight. They delivered their final ment well but one they had delivered their lines in English Junmyeon asked over the mic in Korean if they could all say a little more in Korean and have it translated for the crowd so that they could fully express how they felt after their first concert in America. You spoke into your  headset mic and let the crowd know what they wanted to do. Their response was deafening and the guys took that as a resounding yes and started to deliver a second final ment in Korean for you to translate. You did your best to convey the emotions they wanted to get across to the crowd and the gratitude they felt. The crowd yelled out messages of love and support after each member's final ment was translated by you. You didn’t even think about your voice or the public speaking, all you thought about was doing your best to let their fans know how happy they were and how thankful they were. Once you finished Junmyeon’s final words they joined hands and took a bow and held it for the longest time, a sign of respect and thanks to their fans. You shed tears of pride and love as you watched them bow and wave goodbye to the crowd before exiting that stage for the final time that night.

Tag List: @bellamendoza​ @ludykins​

Masterpost | Chapter 37 | Chapter 39

#exowritersnet #kwordsmiths #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo reverse harem #xiumin fic #baekhyun fic #suho fic #lay fic #kai fic #chanyeol fic #chen fic #sehun fic #d.o. fic #minseok fic #junmyeon fic #yixing fic #jongin fic #jongdae fic #kyungsoo fic #exo smut #exo imagine

[taendrils]

10 beats before the light (m.)

― ❝when the two halves starting from the same root–rationality and animal instinct–leave him angry and uncertain, when he is at his most vulnerable, feelings of porcelain point toward the same wish: to break apart under your fingertips.❞

• genre: angst with smut • warnings: sub!jungkook, brief switch!jungkook, hybrid!jungkook, references at jungkook’s animal nature (!!!), human!reader, use of restraints, condescending praise, soft humiliation, edging, unprotected sex, breath play  • pairing: jungkook/female reader • wordcount: 5.7k

HYBRID AU.

“Oh, pretty,” you sigh into Jungkook’s mouth as he lets out a cry, fluid with impatience and surrender, “why is it so hard for you to control yourself?”

Your nails leave a messy path over the lines of his abdomen, a contrast to the control in your voice when you’re handling him. He shakes and breathes out, making your fingers fall deeper into the depths of the muscle’s definition. There’s a protest at the tip of his tongue, an attempt to defend himself and hang onto the last string of pride he holds, the last connection he has to the outside world beyond the white walls and the ones you create. Like the drops of a substance changing the structure of an element, his intention drops without sound–he feels doused, sunk into the sensation as your teeth scrape his lip.

Dark waves of hair remain glued to his forehead, clear vision coming in and out of focus as his pupils dilate. He tugs at the restraints, eyes wide and glistening yellow, burnt lead spreading like smoke in his iris and settling heavy over his chest. Moments like this with you make him hazy, bring his train of thought underwater before gloom envelops them, muted. He’s there, he’s there–he realises as he fumbles to grip the edge of the headboard, his glistening palm slipping against the wood.

“What can I‌ do with you when you act like this?”

The pause is filled with your hands roaming again, his muscles contracting where you touch, anticipation and need pouring out of every gesture. With the way you do it, with the way you move your hands over his wrists, over the soft rope, caressing the ridges before descending again, he doesn’t know if the need belongs to you or him. You’re careful, the way humans are with their untainted own, but Jungkook can sense things you can’t, how the air shifts over his skin when your fingertips twitch, when splinters of control split from your foundation.

“When you get like this, you just can’t stop.” ‌Innocent eyes watch him as you speak right over his mouth, “You can’t even think straight, right? You can’t even do anything else,” you whisper, tone laced with pity and concern while your smile tells another story. Pursed lips struggle to contain his shaky exhale, though messy hips jump when your splayed fingers rest over his tip. Jungkook is not surprised when yet another bead of precum drips further into the mess he’s made over a body that screams traitorous.

“No, no–I can’t–” he stammers, struggling to form an answer cut by his heaving when your grip on his dick suddenly tightens. His head drops back against the pillow, mouth open and neck barred, “oh, please.”

“It’s for your own good. You’re so strong, baby,” you praise, marvelled at his size and strength, at how he doesn’t dare to move more, worried about breaking his restraints. “Who knows what would you do to me if it weren’t for these, mm?”

What’s keeping him there?

You’re tethering on an edge–the edge you’ve been holding him on for the past hour–teasing him about how he acts with you, how he neglects and fights against his instinct for pleasure. ‌Jungkook almost whines again when it clicks to him how easy for you he is, and it sets a new wave of heat in his loins which threatens to consume him whole. Even now his scattered conscience can’t understand you or how your words are supposed to be a command, but they sound soft and inviting like you’re pleading–God, like everything you want him to do.

“I, I’d sit how you like it–or how you like me,” he says as you stroke him, stimulation setting his nerves ablaze and he can’t think more, it’s too much, oh, he’s throbbing, “Let me touch? Please.”

“You’d ruin me,” you say with a lack of emotion, with words that carry no weight but their emptiness echoes. His head shakes frantically. “Wouldn’t even ease me into it.”

“N–no, that’s not right.”

He sobs, and he knows. Yet he loves it. Loves it so much. 

He loves how mean you can get.

You’re mean, but never demanding.

You’re never demanding or a vice that tightens around his throat and squeezes in possession, the one to reach the level of dominance he needs from you. You’re only playing with him, holding him on thin strings. The free rein he gets when he lies on your mattress is for your entertainment–he often behaves more like your puppet–your doll. Your doll, your beautiful plaything, who gets dust remnants of bruising on his porcelain jaw, who gets the softest rope tightening against his skin. A mesmerising doll, with eyes that pull you in, with arches so magnetic they urge your hands to move like silk over strong thighs.

He spreads himself as yours for the taking, yours, with moans that leave impressions beyond his exterior, all muscles, strength and intimidation. Jungkook wants to feel small and pretty–and wants you to take. He’s hungry for you to take.

“You can play innocent all you want, I won’t stop you. It suits you a lot.” The fond look you give him is enough for him to build his hopes up, to let his heart bloom as he vibrates from the anticipation. “You’re so, so handsome baby. You look like an angel.”

The haze Jungkook finds himself in clears a little, doe eyes now bringing the stars to light with the way he is staring at you. Soft, calm and curious.

“Though you don’t think like one, do you?”

His teeth clench because of how you mess with his temperature, turning him from cold to hot and back again without even trying. Always so clear-headed, always another plan, Jungkook remembers with frustration. You build the path as you move ahead in your mind without outside participation, wondering about what you’re playing with: him.

You study him often, analytical nature going so deep he worries you reached up to where he is wired, now free to twist however you pleased. At your touch, synapses rise to follow the same commands he is used to, yet the sensations you ignite remain near the same intensity. The accusation makes it worse, brings his putrid thoughts to light. Shame fills his gut and makes him arch as it mixes with the pleasure there. God, he should be used to this.

He should have had his fill long ago, but no.

He comes to your door more often than he’d like to admit. Does it when he’s upset and angry. When emotions eat at the tip of his sternum and he needs a place for isolation before everything spills out, and to you, to you out of all people.  

You, who are not a face he would have imagined sealing into his life. Neither you nor the dull colours of your apartment or the uneven surface of the carved door you pin him to. To a body with heightened senses, the colours surround and mock him, force his attention and scrutiny towards them only to come back subsided. White hues become brighter, and it gives his senses a pull before their closeness drifts apart.  

It used to be foreign to him, the switch from where he craves to rip into you when he enters your apartment and makes contact with the edge of the table. How he lets loose as soon as your hand lies softly over his throat, turning off what threatens to overwhelm him–the command of his instinct.

Even without the side which eats away at him, which begs to surrender to the instinct he was born with, the one lingering and leaving his mind in a fog, he still has doubts he’s on the right side. Because of his heart, which pulls him along to experience the most indulgent of pleasures, who is the first to change his direction. He feels helpless, yet too aware at the same time. Conscious of the corolla of characteristics he holds, shaped like a throne for his emotions to reign over–no regard for what he wants. 

Jungkook is authentic, true to his kind, yet he wishes to break away. It seems useless at times. 

No matter how much he shakes under your hands, he could never ignore his hybrid qualities–the obvious strength when he balls his hands into fists. With intention, the slightest resistance would be enough to break them, but why ruin it now, when it’s so much better to wait it out? Drag it on until he is consumed and goes back to your words, urging him to tap into who he is.

Truth is, he loves to be reminded he is one of the hybrids who show their love with their teeth, who are aware of no world beyond what they hold in their embrace. He’s no different from those who get lost in him and look at him from under lashes, who wait for his hand to lead. The realisation makes him grind into you all that more–yes, he can’t control himself.

After twenty-two years, he is sure he could live without the need to bond or mark clawing at him every chance it gets, to form his character with puzzle pieces those around him will never get back. And yet his teeth ache with it and his neck is bared uselessly in wishes you could never fulfil.

He needs you deeper. Needs you to pull the chord further, to treat him like a man and call him a little thing, to cry and bite into his neck like his past lovers begged for him to do. To continue what you’re doing now, bring him so close to the edge and hold him there until the pleasure dissolves, leaving steams of shock buried under his skin. To give more of the reflection of you which runs past your cold exterior, who pities him and talks him down when his arousal rises. 

You move so well. Know him that good and use it to your advantage. 

The more you stop, the more sensitive he gets, and the fear he had about cumming changes with every brush against his dick–he’s going to cum. He doesn’t want it to end, there’s too much left to say. 

“What are you thinking?”

“That you’re mean. So mean, fuck–” ‌he pants, soft mouth wide open, “and pretty. Pretty when you look at me like that.”

You prompt him to continue as your lips hover over his chest, “Hmm?”

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He answers short, in the same breath. “Like I wanted.”

Like everything I’ve wanted, he’d continue.

“And asked for.” You reply short and detached, careless in the face of the many times he has begged. With how you say it, the past images of his pleading are wiped out and replaced with neutrality. What he never had with you.

And how easy that makes him heat again.

“No, not everything,” ‌Jungkook shakes his head and whines when your tongue traces over his nipple before sucking a mark right under, “But I did well.”

“You do well always. Are you expecting more this time?” The way you throw it makes the compliment sting, “Is this all you care for, Kook? For me to give and give?” 

Grunting, he searches his hazy memory for a time where you seemed upset by what you give to him and comes back with his head empty. He’s been good. He takes and thanks for whatever you do to him, docile and obedient when you’re fucking him like he deserves. The setting was nothing new. You’ve made him sob, ruined his orgasms before, taking the edging from quarters to halves of an hour. And he doesn’t mind your pushing–he aches for it in reckless doses, but he can’t pretend anymore. Can’t pretend his restlessness results from what you’re doing with his body.

Jungkook’s patience wears thin at this game you’re playing with him, toying with the reins while never really gripping them. You’re aware. You’re also aware Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do halves.

“You never make me touch you,” he murmurs through bitten lips. “You don’t ask for me.”

The will he says it with is near insignificant and laced with hesitation as it comes out, but you hear the message loud and clear. He’s itching for change. Defiance. Concepts you threaded with care on, contemplated and lost sleep over, trying to make sense of what he’s asking for. He always finds his voice as he’s about to moan for you, but outside–outside he’s empty. 

The thought is acid, and it reflects on your tongue. 

“That’s it? Want me to go beg Namjoon for you?”

His breath gets stuck in his throat, and you don’t find it in yourself to care this time.

“Does your owner know how much his sweet boy misbehaves? What you do when he’s not there?”

Namjoon, he jolts. Namjoon who speaks so softly, who has the same touch as you do when he comforts Jungkook. Namjoon who is an embodiment of kindness and has the same act reflected to him from Jungkook. The same person who leaves all of his other emotions for you. 

“You have other intentions whenever you’re here.” A piece cracks, and so does the beginning. “You always come so angry.”

As if it’s a rule, he takes his first steps with anger and leaves with riddles. He dissipates when your words stray from the law of his undoing, when you try to talk to him.

“And look at him.” You laugh in disbelief. “He’s so gentle, always lets you act how you like. Waits for you and your hand… What has you like this then?” 

You sense defiance in the way his body tenses and he suppresses another whine, stretching out the roots of a baby brat. Telling you not to act like you don’t know it.

“You’re so good,” your tone shakes the slightest and his iris glimmers, pupils blown out. “Of course you are. Almost don’t have to tell you what to do.” 

Soft thighs spread over his own and you make no further move, intent on hearing him speak. Jungkook is feverish, tangled in the thoughts you’ve come to notice by the way his tongue prods at his cheek. He controls his fire. It burns in a contained circle of introversion, with its core hidden, simmering under his skin.

It only unleashes when he’s under you.

“Why?” He pulls the cord further as your fingers brush over his length, dick continuing to leak over his abdomen. “Why won’t you?” 

His passion and sincerity take him farther than anyone else you’ve met, sprung in a needle of perfection. The drive he has makes him fast, pace never the same as yours, never equal. 

You never wait for each other. 

Jungkook intertwines the fingers, pressing hard onto the knuckle to prevent movement. Defiance is a stunning picture on his features, though in your eyes brat never suited him. You’d like to go deeper, but it’s useless to compare since you can’t order him to get rid of the attitude, of the fire.  

You’re not his owner. You didn’t own anyone. You say it out loud for the reminder.

“I have demands. This is not one of them.” 

Jungkook growls, but doesn’t move. He doesn’t reach to touch you or himself but rather stays in the same position with sore arms you suppose now carry the print of fibres breaking apart.

He’s given so much choice it tangles the possibilities with each other, options which leave him immobile. His conscience reprimands, critical of a system that wants those like him subordinate to their owners. It’s the thing he sees all around him, but a hazy mind never realises the damage. 

Jungkook barely suppresses another growl. That’s what they did, why won’t Namjoon? Why won’t you? 

“Why don’t you want anything from me. Why don’t any of you.” It’s chilling how the end poses no question, and antithetical to the coldness of his words, his chest burns with anger at how desperate he is. He is desperate enough he has to ask, to belittle himself like this. 

“You think so because I don’t want you to be good,” you reply with the same ice. “I want you to stop rattling my fucking door.”

Shame mixes with anger in this chest burn, conscious–not regretful–of his past actions.

“… to stay quiet if I have my mouth on you. But you can’t, can you? Because you don’t care.” It surprises him how pleasing the accusation sounds when it rolls this smoothly off your tongue. Good, good. You’re talking–feeling. “You’re so impatient. So animalistic.” 

Animalistic. Tired. Jungkook does his best to ignore it, how he is always suppressed until he cannot take it anymore, maintaining this image of perfection which is foreign to him. Perfection which is not induced, which cannot be reached–because there was no standard. Jungkook, with a core impossible to fill with thought and emotion, needs his head clear too often. Because there’s always space left for another question, from which another path rises–leading him towards another hundredth wonder. 

He can’t talk to Namjoon about it. Can’t have him worry and question what he’s doing, how he’s taking care of Jungkook. Poor, poor Namjoon, Jungkook sighs, even at this moment when it’s supposed to be all about him. How he would react, finding out his pet is seeking comfort in someone who is nothing like him.

“Please,” he gasps, not yet registering his plea. He cannot touch you yet, so he focuses on your barely illuminated figure. 

He keeps searching for you, trying to prove something–not sure to which of you.

“Please don’t.” His voice struggles to come back to the surface. “Kiss me instead.” 

His lips part when you come close and obey him, latching yours on the sore skin of his neck. The pressure has his breath quickening and the blood vessels covered with your mouth throb before they break. Fingers bump against his abdomen when you undo the last button he didn’t rip when he entered, leaving you in your underwear. 

Your kiss reaches higher, up to his ear, his jaw, gliding until your bottom lip settles on his mole. “I can’t kiss you with your mouth like that.” 

“I know,”‌ he whines, broken as you suck another spot. “I know I have to–fuck, have to keep my mouth shut.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it? Such a shame.” Your eyes glint with the same fondness framing your face, and oh, how lovely you look when he’s giving in.

“Because I asked. I fucking asked,” he cries out, blinking away the tears. His clenched fist hits the headboard and he yelps. Whatever you do, it’s too much, something he can’t bear when he is this close, when every rough touch brings him right to the edge. “I could’ve just–” 

Mhm. He could have. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?” you pout. “But I asked you to stay quiet, and you’re making a lot of noise.” 

Your hand moves tightly across his dick for the first time, possessively–like you want to capture his sounds, his will under the skin that glides like satin over his tip. Even with his senses, before he would never consider a mere grip could make him lose all focus, lose the fight against your wish. 

He knows what you ask: for him to give in. To come back to what he is. No care, no feelings. Oh, and how tempted he is to give it up, yet there it is: the same pathos which keeps him going, which never lets him forget his anger, urging him to make you work for it. 

The will to do so however–it dissipates once your other hand lies over his throat. Wicked woman. Mean, mean woman who never leaves his thoughts, who–

Is so so good with her hands, takes care of him so well, please press harder.   

“I’m sorry, I love it so much–” His bottom lip trembles when you grip his base, sensation slowly diffusing as his hips grind onto nothing, “I love it when you shut it for me.”

“You love hearing yourself too, don’t you?” You pause to caress his tip like you would his face. “How helpless you sound. That’s why you talk so much, angel.”

Yes, yes, helpless–no wolf but a pretty thing. He nods; agreeing to it is so easy. 

“Can you take more?”

Anything.

Jungkook shakes his head, aware and sensitive and ready to burst. “I want to stop, feels so good, I can’t–”

“Why stop then?”

“Because…b-because,” he begins, but he’s too weak. The words die out.

As much as you play unaffected, heat builds in your core at how easy Jungkook puts your word above his pleasure. It’s clear why he’s holding back, but the reason he’s hesitant to say it remains blurry. Your stomach flips. “You don’t need my permission.”

Not when he could have anyone else’s.

Jungkook is delicate and boyish, with loose curls framing his face and crystal shine on his high points. He wishes for things so putrid and hangs onto your every whisper, gives it the freedom to ruin him not soon after. You couldn’t understand why he keeps searching for a tool for release in desolated neighbourhoods when not only the area he lived in but himself emanated splendour. There are plenty in power who’d welcome such a pretty face, who’d like to see him the way you do now, who’d pay to have him surrender.

“Tell me I can do it, come on, can I?”

You chuckle. And my, what manners he has, what a good boy he is.

“I can’t wait anymore, please,” he tugs once again with no real force to it. so hard to get to move, and how his stomach flips when your words ring true. Yes, he’s impatient, he can’t wait, and the frustration takes over, stifling the pleasure. It hurts his pride, his strive to perfection–the mere image of it crumbles in front of anticipation and his failed patience. Be good.

“Why do you do all of this then? All these things I like, if you just make me wait.”

Your eyes twinkle, and he hates how it does nothing but incite him further. You played this game too many times, there’s no other option.

“What do you like?”

Be good.

He blinks and grits his teeth, but he is far too gone to be anything but honest. There you go again.

“I like how you take care of me,” your heart jumps at the implication before he gets the chance to speak again.

Introverted as he is, he enjoys the moments you prompt him into speaking, profits off the outlet to put out his anger–or his begging. Hearing his pleas alone is enough to have you dripping, yet he never stops there. Mind, heart, matter: he’s too good at hitting the spots you try to keep hidden.

“…How you feel when you sit on me.”

Oh, and there’s nothing more you need than to experience it again–fuck him until the ache stops. You shift, pressing more of your weight on him while keeping focused.

“How I tell you what to do,” you grin.

Jungkook mirrors it, head falling back. “Too bad you don’t do it often.”

“I don’t own you, Jungkook.” 

“Why do this then?” 

“You asked me,” you state. The tone leaves no room for elaboration–a wave that keeps straight, unlike his rising frustration.

“I asked for other things too. Why this? Why like me so hard for you,” he pauses to hide the shard in his voice. “so desperate.”

“You’re the one letting me see you like that,” you retort as you sit over his dick, wet and inviting. “I gain nothing from it.”

“Me. Me.” He nods between words as his face settles on the nape of your neck, cheek pressed against your pulse point as if to make his point tangible. He can’t breathe.

You don’t admit–you never admit–there’s honesty in his offering. Jungkook, strong and eager, he belongs to you, from a carnal part he doesn’t share with anyone. His emotions though, they remain locked away somewhere only he knows. You don’t expect to see them anytime soon.

“You come here, you walk away. Simple.”

Good thing you have the key to his anger.

“No, that one time, I tried so hard–”  

“It’s all about taking to you, isn’t it?” you laugh, breathless and right over his bones. “I know what you’ll do. I suggest you do it tighter.”

For a moment, his mind can’t wrap around it. Around what you’re giving him.

“Come on, show me I’m right.” 

Jungkook wants to be perfect. Doesn’t want much of a choice in how it happens. You’re giving him too much. The thought is clear in his head. He wants –

your lips, which move to kiss his bound wrists, open mouth into his palm,

“Do it.”

wants you so bad.

The feeble ties which could constrain your own snap like the musical chords do at a rough press. He doesn’t register anything other than your warm skin and the lips which part so easily when he kisses you. Drive and ambition weave intentions beyond your desires, Jungkook has intentions beyond kissing–he wants to light you up.

At once, the idea to wait more dissipates as you reach between your bodies to move his cock towards your entrance, a moan escaping your throat right as he bottoms out. You try to fight it, to keep still, calm the convulsions ripping through your thighs. It proves to no use, he’s so messy he immediately disrupts your balance, knocks you over him, where you can breathe him in and swallow his moans. The moment you clench around him and grind down to meet his thrust, he breaks from you like burnt only to whimper into your neck.

“Such a bad boy,” you tut and cradle his head to keep him there, gripping his hair to pull more moans out of him as he sucks.

His sounds scream apologetic, yet his pace is ruthless, his voice rough and exhausted.

“How are you so wet,” he babbles with his eyes screwed shut. “How do you feel so good, ngh–”

How are you so good, so nurturing and condescending? He’s so deep into it he almost asks to flip you over before the switch flips and he freezes, a plethora of voices rushing to him at once. His mind screams, he’s aware of what he’s doing.

Jungkook’s touching you–gripping you like he never plans on letting go.

“My hands,” he gasps, yet his dick still rocks inside of you. “Tell me to take my hands off, why aren’t you doing it,” it rolls, attacks you as much as the following cry.

Your answer does not come. He’d listen, he’s never been surer he would. Despite that, you never try to fulfill his wish, letting him continue.

“No, I can’t, you didn’t let me–”

And yes, he realises what he’s saying, almost, and maybe another time he’d act the part, when you’re not denying him, when you’re not toying with him like this so he won’t feel guilt over how much his hands roam over your body. He’d be more patient cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples, but now he detaches fast–too fast–because he needs to grasp all of you.

“I told you,”‌ you breathe out between soft moans. “I told you.”

The words fall deaf to his ears. There are other sounds he’d like to hear–those which drive him crazy, those sounds you make when you’re selfish and unashamed and half as gone as he is. Those you make when you let him please you, taste you. He likes it when you’re on his mouth, when you tell him how to suck on your clit to have you screaming. And with the ardour he’s experiencing, It’s not long before he finds your clit and circles it so fast and messy it would be abrasive if you weren’t so wet.

You can’t do anything but shake on top of him, riding out your orgasm as his builds and builds. Detached from his body, his mind drifts to what you’ve been saying all along.

“I’m sorry, God, I’m so sorry,” he says as he grabs onto anything he can, never stopping his pace. He can’t stop, can’t understand how he’s still going.

You’re so sensitive. You have no time to recover, no time to think or breathe. A woman after Jungkook’s loins, you don’t seem to care about it either.

“Who knows you like I do?” your mouth curls and sharp teeth sink into his shoulder, mimicking the bite he’s been arching for. Jungkook gasps, loud and erratic, and his tear shoots apart his shield when it slides from the corner of his eye.

Would it be too much? Could you forgive him? He’s started well, done well as much as he could, listened to you all those times. He’s good, he didn’t misbehave, would it be so bad to succumb to his desire once? His mind, Jungkook’s mind is pliant, he’s surrendering–to you? To the sensation?

He cries and holds you like the last hope. “Please forgive me, I’m so bad.”

“So, so bad. What do I‌ do with you, pretty?”‌

“I don’t know.”‌ He’s wracked by tremors that have severed his temporary ties with reality–cut open for carnal pleasure. “I don’t know, please, it hurts.”

“Do you want it to hurt?”

“God, yes–”

“Good. Perfect. Don’t you want more?“

He nods, cupping your face with eyes open and staring right into yours. Close– he’s so close, nose brushing against yours and you’re tangled in wishes, wondering about how it would be to sense how his tears vapor and mess with the air.

“Good. Good baby. Do it then.”

Jungkook nods and licks into your mouth, pleading and grateful, with thrusts so irregular before they slow down. It would’ve had an effect on you had you been one of his own. But you’re not, and towards you, his cum doesn’t have a purpose, warm as it runs down your skin. You wish and move to wipe it, yet pristine hands slow you down when they wrap around yours. The bind didn’t even leave a mark.

Against your judgement, you run your fingers through his hair, pushing back his sweaty bangs. Jungkook catches your arm with wide eyes and heavy breath, exhales once again before resting his cheek on it. Your conscience tells you to move, but you remain still as his eyelids drop. 

It would all be so different if the two of you respected each other like friends or lovers did– the air around would have a different weight. He would look serene, a doll, with the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out and lashes. He’d leave this place with his head clear, but your attempt to go deeper has more questions flooding his mind. His body lies the same as always, open and sprawled on the mattress–but he doesn’t look serene. Not even the slightest bit.  

You meant to prove a point, knew the game and played it. After all, his patterns aren’t tough to pick up on. It would upset him more, but to his surprise, defeat doesn’t carry a heavy burden this time. He inhales normally, without hurry–there’s no stone in his chest to limit him. The difficulty comes along with admission; the action comes with the opposite. Giving in is too tempting, letting emotions consume him is too easy. Depending on you is the same. 

“I can’t keep you like this,”‌ you whisper, against the routine you struggled to create. A finger trails over the broken rope as your gaze shifts to the other side in hopes to avoid his own. “I can’t take what you give me.”

Can’t take him.

Splashes of emotion make way onto his face despite his choice to stay silent. Jungkook exhales, reaches out to touch you but stops as he gets close. The bed creaks when he raises, a complimentary sound to the sigh that leaves his mouth. Soft lips stay shut–he lets his footsteps do the talking. They happen to sync with your countdown–781, 780, 779–with passing thoughts which make you wonder which number you’ll last remember before you’re able to sleep.

There’s stability, certainty in how they decrease. 

“Are you sure you can’t?” is heard breaking through from the other room and your breath hitches. He’s loud, a poor attempt at making you hear him despite your distance. Then–a soft sentence, almost diffused before the door muffles it. 

“I’ll make an effort.”

715, 713, 712. You don’t know how you hear it.

“I’ll knock next time.” 

704…

708? 707?

Patience allows you to wait until he leaves before you resume. 

#kwritersworldnet #networkbangtan #btsbookclub #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #kwordsmiths #thekpopnet #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #hybrid jungkook #hybrid au #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid smut #sub!jungkook #sub!bts #sub bts #sub jungkook

[jinned]

ornamental | namjoon | m

snippet: “So, how is this a tradition? Are we going to be making sex ornaments every Christmas?”

pairing: namjoon x female reader

genre: smut/pwp, fluff

au: domestic, married couple, slice of life, christmas time yeeyee

rating: explicit

word count: 6.6k

warnings: namjoon falls into the ocean at one point, very brief mentions of being drunk?, they’re really cute with their traditions and grossly in love lmao i hate them, implied: reader has longer hair

sexual warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, dirty talk, marking, sexual polaroids, mentions of oral (male receiving), photographing during sex, pussy slapping, Namjoon calls y/n a slut, degradation, slight body worship, orgasm denial, teasing, hair pulling, belt whipping/ass whipping, punishment receiving, a belt is used to choke y/n with, mentions of predetermined sex rules, erotic asphyxiation(EA), reader is dizzy from the EA

a/n: this is a part of the 25 days of christmas collab! collab masterlist is here! I had so much fun being a part of this! thank you so much for letting me be a part of this :)

One of the best things about being newly married is creating new traditions.

Technically, you and Namjoon have lived in the same house for two years now, but, being married makes everything feel...different. New, refreshing, something about it feels like falling in love all over again. Admittingly, you did go a little nuts on the redecorating to celebrate the new chapter in your lives. You practically bought out the entire home and furniture store within the first week of living in the new home. Namjoon definitely thought it was silly and maybe a tad bit ridiculous. Yet, he never let on. He was always right there with you, ready to give his honest and caring input. Hell, he even offered to repaint the living room that ghastly tangerine orange color. Offered.

Don’t worry. Eventually you came to your senses and opted for a more practical color: sky blue.

Sometimes you feel a little bad for Namjoon. You know you can get a little crazy and you know that your sappy ideas of love and romance were something Namjoon had to learn from. And boy, was he ever so patient and willing to adapt. Not to say you haven't adapted for him too of course.

As the seasons grew colder, the excitement between you and your new husband flourished further. When you were engaged and even dating, you would both get giddy with the first color change of fall. Because that meant Halloween was quickly approaching. And after Halloween? Thanksgiving. And after Thanksgiving is the best of them all: Christmas.

Decorations for every holiday are kept nicely in their perspective boxes, tucked carefully away in the garage which, at this point, can't even fit a car inside it anymore.

Christmas is fast approaching and although you're more than excited already, this year is going to be different. This excitement has been elevated ten fold because you and Namjoon have decided to create new Christmas traditions. And, now that you think about it, creating a new tradition every year has become its own tradition. The first Christmas you and Namjoon started dating, your tradition was to make gingerbread houses. The second year, you each bought a new Christmas themed movie and watched them on Christmas Eve. The third year, Namjoon came up with the idea to exchange favorite memories of the past year. The fourth year, you both finally broke down and found matching pajamas and finally, the fifth year, tacky Christmas card photos to send to your friends and family. Each year gains new traditions and soon you won’t have enough time in the day to do them all!

This year, you took the more mysterious route. And so did Namjoon.

When you both sat down for dinner a few days after Thanksgiving, you proposed your new Christmas tradition: personalized stockings. The idea was that you would decorate a stocking for Namjoon and fill it with his favorite things like candy, movies, and little trinkets. And he would do the same for you. Namjoon was thrilled with the idea, claiming to already have just the things he'd want to stuff your stocking with. You had thought that was that. That was the new tradition.

But, after a few more mouthfuls of food at dinner, Namjoon pitched his idea.

"I want to make personalized ornaments."

Oh, your heart fluttered right there on the spot. Namjoon has been more shy to romantic gestures, letting you lead the way. If there was something you wanted, he’d get it. If you wanted flowers every Monday, then he’d do it. But every girl knows that telling your man what you want all the time just takes the spontaneity out of things.

For him to share this comfortably and with confidence was a huge step.

Fast forward a couple of days and that's when you married the man of your dreams. On December 1st, your fairy tale came to life.

Normally, the average couple wants to have their wedding in the spring or summertime. Weather is less unpredictable, people are more able to RSVP, etc. You and Namjoon were not the average couple. Instead, you both opted for a winter wedding. The holiday season is both your favorite time of the year and being able to add your wedding anniversary into the mix? Neither of you had to really think on that one too much.

The wedding was one for the books as fluffy white snowflakes danced down to the ground, Namjoon’s rosey dimpled cheeks smiling at you as you walked down the aisle. Everyone around you blurred. He was the only thing you could see clearly.

Now fast forward a couple more weeks and it's Christmas Eve. The day you look forward to every year. The day before Christmas.

The tacky Christmas cards were sent last week, all the shopping has been done. It's time to get cozy with your husband.

A lot of magic gets put into the weeks, days, and even hours before Christmas Eve. Decorating almost becomes a part time job for you. Everything needs to be perfect.

Namjoon woke you up early to help him prep the Christmas Eve dinner which included turkey, mashed potatoes, homemade cornbread, and enough green beans to feed a village. You let Namjoon lead and became his assistant; grabbing all the utensils he needed to get that turkey perfectly prepped.

When the turkey is in the oven, there's still no time to rest. You sneak off into the spare bedroom to gather up Namjoon's presents. Pride swells deep in your stomach as you look at the collection of assorted gifts and trinkets wrapped to perfection in an array of holiday wrapping paper. This year was the year you tried extra hard to not give him any presents early or accidentally hint at what you've gotten him. Just one more night...you can last for one more night. You put them back in their hiding place, denying every cell in your body that’s telling you that one gift won’t hurt!

Maintaining your self control, you walk out of the room and rejoin your husband.

The day passes by all too quickly. Before you know it, you're bringing your empty plate to the sink, wobbling as you acclimate to your now bloated belly.

"You've outdone yourself this year, Joon," you sigh with content as you sink into the couch cushions. "I don't think I'll be able to fit into my work pants on Monday."

Namjoon chuckles from the kitchen as he rinses the plates, drying his hands with a small towel as he emerges into the living room and joins you on the couch.

"The chef enjoys your compliments." He tosses the towel towards the hallway where he will absolutely forget it's existence and slip on it later tonight. It's happened more than once now.

"The chef," you cheekily lean in closer to him, smiling wide and bright before you kiss the base of his neck, "is too good to his customer." You kiss his neck again and he sighs, pulling you closer to his body.

The sun starts to go down and the air grows crisper, pinks and oranges cascade into the living room and mingle with the abundance of Christmas lights you have hanging around the room and the tree. You bounce around with excitement as it comes time to give your husband his stocking. Per tradition, of course.

"Sit down by the fire!" You giggle, squealing away as you run into the spare bedroom to your secret stashing place, pulling out the forest green stocking you've stuffed to the brim with things for Namjoon. For a moment, you contemplate getting out the rest of his presents. Both of you decided many years ago to not pre put Christmas presents under the tree because 1. you're a terrible secret keeper and 2. you're terrible at waiting and 3. last year you got way too drunk and accidently stepped on one of the gifts you were going to give to Namjoon. Deeming you both a clumsy mess, Namjoon presented the idea of putting presents under the tree the morning of Christmas. That way you could still get your cute photos and open presents only minutes later.

You hold Namjoon's stocking behind your back, careful to not let anything slip out from the top, and sit in front of Namjoon. The fire warms your back, instantly heating up your flannel pajamas, as your knees touch Namjoon's. A sly grin is painted on his face as he too holds his arms behind his back.

"Ready?" You're practically springing up and down with excitement.

"Go!" Namjoon laughs as he pulls out what he's been hiding and you do the same. You both quickly pass each other the stockings you've made.

"Oh my god, Namjoon there's like thirty bags of Swedish Fish in here!" You hunch over as you laugh, pulling out bag after bag and pile them into your lap.

"Those better last you all week! I don't want another 'Joonie'," he clasps his hands together and widens his eyes comically, pouting his lips and raising the pitch of his voice higher, "'on your way home from woorrrkkk can you stop and get me my fishies?'"

You smack him playfully on the thigh, the sound echoing in the living room. "I don't sound like that!" You laugh along with him, but already your mouth is drooling, the sweet-savory taste of Swedish Fish already dancing on your tongue.

"Oh, cool!" Namjoon pulls something out of his stocking and holds it closer to his eyes. "I've been wanting to see this movie! Thanks, babe!"

You smile as he continues to dig through his stocking. Stockings are a very traditional part of Christmas, but you wanted to go the extra step. Not only did you hand pick the fabric of the stocking, but you also sewed it together. Deep, soft green flannel accessorized with a plush, fuzzy grey trim really didn't take that long to put together. Overall, the best part was getting that sparkly silver glitter glue and putting that big 'N' on the front. It turned out just how you wanted it, and watching Namjoon hold it delicately in his hands gives you a sense of accomplishment.

He definitely tried with your stocking, that's for sure. Namjoon also sewed together his own fabrics, which actually surprises you because, let's be real, most guys would just go out and buy a premade stocking and stick your name on the front and call it good. But Namjoon isn't most guys and he proves that to you as much as he can. Although slightly wonky, you can tell he took his time and put forth his best effort with this gift. The stitches are definitely not going the same way, but they're consistent.

Going the complete opposite of Christmas themed, Namjoon opted for a bright neon orange fabric that kinda hurts your eyes if you stare at it too long. Bright pink and yellow pom poms are scattered all around the fabric and you're lowkey afraid your husband murdered a clown to make you this.

"It's a sunset."

You look up to see Namjoon smiling at you proudly, the stocking you made him hugged loosely to his chest. His dimples are deeply set as the tips of his cheeks redden.

You stare at the stocking with a new sort of fondness and it's hard to fight the brimming tears quickly forming.

"It's beautiful, Joon. I love it." Carefully setting it aside, you lean forward and pucker your lips. Namjoon meets you halfway and you resist the urge to sigh as his lips meet yours. All too soon, he pulls away.

The next couple minutes go by leisurely as you both continue to dig up the little treasures hidden in the stockings and once you're done, Namjoon starts to fidget.

"Excited?" You tease, already surrounded by Swedish Fish candy wrappers.

Namjoon looks back and winks at you playfully. "Very."

Laughing, you wait as he pulls out his next gift. Namjoon's tradition idea to make personalized ornaments is one you can't believe you haven't thought of sooner. He reaches far back behind the Christmas tree, a few pine needles escaping their branches and planting themselves into Namjoon's pajamas.

He shakes his head, sprinkling pine needles onto the hardwood floor as he holds a loosely wrapped gift.

"Before I give you this, I want you to show me yours first."

Puzzled, you reach under the couch and fish out your own gift. "I thought the idea was whoever came up with the idea presents first?"

"Yes. But this time is different." There's something coy to the way he's talking, like he's trying to mask a smile, but his cheeks are still tinged red. He's got something more up his sleeve than just a unique Christmas ornament, that's for sure.

Tingling with curiosity, you push it aside as you hand your gift over to Namjoon. Opting for a small bag instead of wrapping paper, Namjoon flips the bag upside down and catches the ornament in his hand.

Smiling, he looks closer at it to see you've filled it with a shit ton (and you’re not exaggerating) of sparkly blue glitter. There's a tiny cutout picture of Namjoon from your vacation to the beach last year inside and his facial expression is definitely not one you can look at while keeping a straight face.

Present Namjoon bursts out laughing, nearly dropping the gift.

"Is this-? Did you-?" He can barely talk in-between aggressive ‘ha ha's’, his free hand covering up his mouth as he does so. Namjoon's deep brown eyes sparkle as he recalls the memory of how he tripped and fell into the ocean. Not from a pier or anything, no. The two of you were walking hand in hand along the beach when Namjoon tripped sideways and went shoulder first into the shallow shores, nearly taking you down with him.

At first you were concerned, but then you saw as Namjoon continued to flip backwards, going further and further out into the water. Then fear overcame you. You rushed in after him, fully prepared to save the nearly drowning fiancée of yours.

After a lifeguard and several kind pedestrians determined Namjoon was more than okay, you couldn't hold back the laughter bubbling quickly from your chest. From the ground, Namjoon laughed with you, claiming he couldn’t even walk right anymore.

Although scary in the moment, it's a memory the both of you love to laugh about.

Namjoon wipes a finger under his eyes as his laughter diminishes, sitting up to place the ornament in the center of the tree on full display for everyone to see.

"That was amazing, babe. Thank you." He sits back down and picks up what has to be your ornament resting by his knee. You can only imagine what he could have possibly placed in there. There's so many inside jokes between you two that you're having a hard time thinking of a specific one. Namjoon can be brutal when it comes to inside jokes. But he can also be really sweet...and seeing as it's your first Christmas together as a married couple, there's definitely a chance that he's put in something romantic.

As you unwrap your gift, you almost drop it as you gasp. Namjoon looks at you with a smug expression on his face and something hidden behind those deep brown eyes of his.

In your palms you hold what appears to be a handmade ornament. It's clear with black and grey glitter poured into it. And sitting on top is a picture.

But it's no ordinary picture.

You try to swallow but your throat feels alarmingly dry.

"Namjoon..." your tongue tastes funny as you say his name slowly, almost like old water that’s been sitting out in the living room for a couple of days.

He raises his eyebrows suggestively, resting his arm on his knee as he tries to appear nonchalant. "You said you wanted us to create our own traditions. Something unique to the both of us. What's more unique and special than this?"

The ornament feels hot in your hand and it's frustratingly hard to make yourself not look at it. Heat continues to flicker from your palms and grows through your arms and swallows itself down into your stomach. But it doesn't stop there. Oh no. You feel this heat down in-

"So, how is this a tradition? Are we going to be making sex ornaments every Christmas?" It's not so easy to keep your tone nice and steady. You don't know if you should laugh, be turned on, angry- oh who are you kidding? You're definitely turned on. The photo in the ornament is one worthy enough for the tumblr porn page aesthetics. In the photo it's you on your knees with Namjoon's cock halfway down your throat. Mascara tears dribble down your cheeks as they hallowed around his member.

"The tradition," Namjoon's voice is silkier than silk itself and the low grumble in his throat is enough to shoot an intense wave of arousal throughout your body, "is that we fuck and take a polaroid, and put the polaroid into a clear see through ornament to commemorate the experience."

You've gotta admit, this is sexy as fuck.

Namjoon licks his bottom lip as he tries to read your body language. He's looking sexier than ever in his bright red Christmas pajamas that you both picked out last month. Matching pajamas, another Christmas tradition you've both adopted.

Speaking of pajamas, you don't want to have yours on any longer, no matter how cute and comfortable they are.

Leaning forward slightly, you grip the base of your shirt and slowly start to pull it over your head. You hear Namjoon's breath hitch in his throat as your shirt rises over your chest, exposing your unsupported breasts to him.

Once the shirt is fully over your head, you toss it at the side wall, giving Namjoon a wink as you do so.

"For a little while, I wasn't sure how you would take this whole explicit ornament idea, but holy fuck am I glad I decided to go with it." Namjoon seems stuck in place, completely in awe as his eyes roam over your half naked body.

"Oh!" You start, scaring Namjoon slightly. "It's so cold!" You look at your husband innocently as you take one of your fingers and start rubbing your left nipple. "Look how hard my nipples are." You pretend to pout, loving how wide Namjoon's eyes are as he continues to watch you play with yourself. He looks like a man who's just won the lottery and you wouldn't be surprised if he started jumping up and down for joy.

"I think I'm gonna go back to the bedroom." You stand up and look over your shoulder, winking at him once more as you slyly shimmy your pants off, bending all the way over to free the garment off your ankles.

With an open mouth and wide eyes, Namjoon slowly lifts up the polaroid camera and snaps a picture, eyes unwavering from where he was looking.

Sauntering down the hallway, you pause to see if Namjoon is following you, but he remains frozen in place.

"Pity," you sigh, "I was hoping you would come keep me warm."

Confused, Namjoon's eyebrow raises as his eyes finally meet yours. "You really wanna snuggle? Now?"

Annoyed, you drop the act and turn towards your dumbass husband. "Namjoon, you just showed me a sexy polaroid and I just stripped in front of you. Get your ass in that bedroom and come fuck me like the beast you are."

He didn't need to be told that twice.

You squeal as he quickly stands up. His shirt and pajama pants are discarded in record speed as he runs after you. Catching up to you easily, Namjoon tackles you onto the bed, pinning his legs on either side of your hips.

And there it is, in all its glory: Namjoon's hardened cock staring you right in the eyes, hidden by the thin lining of his boxers. Despite the obvious piece of male anatomy blocking your vision, you find yourself looking up into Namjoon's eyes, your mind slipping away from the present moment. It's one of those surreal moments that only happens in the movies and you never would have imagined it could happen to you. Just a few weeks ago, you were walking down the aisle, eyes searching for that comfort in Namjoon's. Smiling goes a lot further to Namjoon than just using your mouth. When he smiles, his whole face lights up. From the lines by his eyes to the way his nose scrunches, Namjoon smiles with everything he has. It's one of those smiles that makes you want to run into his arms, bury your face in his chest, and just relax, let go of every stress and worry you've had built up.

"Hey. Where you at?" Namjoon chuckles above you.

Grinning softly, you shake your head from side to side. "Sorry. I'm here."

You look up at him and there's a moment of softness at the edges of his eyes. And then they wander down, his gaze caressing your body and that softness turns into dilated pupils, a deep, pain invoking hunger settles in. You're more than ready for him to just eat you up.

Namjoon licks his lips tauntingly before diving in towards your own lips. And like a fish taking the bait, you’re hooked. He tastes like gingerbread cookies and peppermint; a mixture you didn’t realize could be so addictive until this moment. Your tongues roll together as you move your heads from side to side, tasting each other, neither particularly fighting for dominance.

Like water, you both flow together as Namjoon guides you on top of him. Demanding to be acknowledged, Namjoon’s cock twitches angrily against your thigh, and like any sane person would do (or insane, let’s be real), you swivel your hips and grind against his growing, hardening length. Wincing beneath you, Namjoon’s face starts to redden. From the stuffiness of the room or from trenchant nature of your movements, you’re not sure.

You slow down your movements and pin Namjoon’s arms at his sides, not allowing him to touch your body at all.

“Y/n,” he warns, the veins in his forearms beginning to thicken.

Ignoring him, you continue to grind on him with stripper level intensity. It has always been a personal goal to make your husband come in his pants. Something about getting him off without even physically removing his cock from his underwear is oh so motivating.

Namjoon, on the other hand, thinks differently.

Lowly growling, he uses the strength from his thigh muscles to trap you in place, winking at you before he flips you on your side, and ultimately gaining the upper hand. Now it’s him who’s pinning your wrists on either side of your face. Holding his gaze, you try to appear unfazed by his graceful assertion of dominance, so it’s all the more frustrating that he chooses to not only disconnect your glares, but to proceed to fist his cock sloppily, hardening himself even more: he clearly does not see you as a dominant competitor today.

When Namjoon is feeling particularly more feral than normal, he runs the bedroom like a potentate; what he says goes, and you better obey quickly unless you want to be punished. Mercilessly. On some occasions, you're the good girl who listens well and obeys commands perfectly. On other days (most days), you love poking the bear just to see how far his punishments will really go.

Today is definitely one of those days.

Namjoon releases your wrist, leaning back on his knees as he wordlessly motions for you to flip over. He gets off the bed, one hand still gripping his cock tightly, as he goes to where he put the polaroid down. Now, on your hands and knees, you move your hips from side to side, slowly wiggling your ass tauntingly in front of him as he attempts to put more film into the polaroid camera. "Namjoooooon," you pout, lips pursed as you whine to your husband. "Don't you want to spank me? Put your big, strong hands all over my body. I think I need to be reminded about who I belong to." Unable to contain your pout, you smirk as Namjoon narrows his eyes. You know exactly what he's contemplating: should he reward you or punish you for your explicit neediness.

Suddenly, your head is forced up until you're looking at the ceiling and your stomach tumbles with joy.

Punishment it is.

Namjoon releases your ponytail, your head collapsing back between your arms that are still holding up your body. Your heart races as you try to catch your breath, eagerly anticipating Namjoon's next move.

The bed creaks as Namjoon goes and opens the closet door. Sneaking a peek over your shoulder, you see him opening up his sock drawer. Momentarily confused, it all makes sense when he pulls out his black leather belt.

Instantly, chills shiver their way through your body. Yes, you wanted him to spank you. But you meant with his hands.

Namjoon holds the belt between both hands as he turns back to you, snapping the leather against itself as he tests the product before then slapping it across his own palm. A sinister smile paints that gorgeous face of his and you've never been happier to be in love with an actual demon.

Clasping your hands together tightly, you brace for what's to come, knowing you're going to orgasm so hard later.

"Count," Namjoon commands and without a moment's hesitation, you hear the crack of the belt on your skin before you feel the stinging hot pain. Gasping loudly, all you can think about is how you can't wait to see the bruised redness on your ass afterwards. Something about having markings leftover from any sexcapade leaves you feeling accomplished and slightly dirty.

"I said count," he grits through his teeth, but he waits until he hears you to continue.

"One!" You squeeze your eyes tightly and wait for the second hit.

"Two!" You cry. Wetness oozes from between your legs and you're wondering how many Namjoon is going to administer. You just want his cock in you already. Almost like a stomach growling when delicious food is near, that's how you feel right now. But it isn't food that will satisfy this hunger.

Five more whips later and you start to shake at your elbows, grasping the sheets tightly between your fingers and biting down on the pillow in front of you. The sting on your ass feels so good and you're honestly surprised that last smack didn't send you straight into an orgasm. Namjoon knows his way around that belt, hitting each spot perfectly and with enough force where it doesn't necessarily hurt. It's all pleasure.

Namjoon discards the belt and takes hold of your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his knuckles before pulling. It's a little rougher than usual, tears brimming your eyes as you wince. To anyone else, they probably wouldn't have been able to handle the neck cramp, or the stinging on your scalp. But it only turns you on more. You bite your bottom lip as he gives your ponytail another yank, this time to the side so you're able to see him out of your peripheral. It's animalistic how he looks at you; a low growl festering deep within his throat, his mouth practically watering as he looks at you.

"So beautiful," he mutters as he hand grips your hair tighter. His other hand moves over the curvature of your ass, the lightness of his touch giving you goosebumps. Arousal is about to start dripping out of you any second. Namjoon knows how sensitive you are with your senses. He gives your ass a hard squeeze before resuming his light touches.

"Are you ready, baby?" he whispers fondly from behind you. His hand is hovering over your clit, you can sense it.

"Yes, sir."

With the sound of his respected name, Namjoon slaps your cunt harshly with approval, making you cry out in pain and surprise. Focusing all your energy on keeping yourself upright, you can’t help but tremble more as you grip the sheets tighter and tighter. You can feel his hand take away some of your slick as he pulls away from you. Hiding your face in the crook of your arm, you wait for your punishment for being too turned on so quickly.

You chance a look behind you, his grip on your hair loosening enough for it to tumble away from his fingers. He's staring at his other hand, your arousal glimmering in the faint room light, like small spider webs woven between his fingers. Namjoon's thick eyebrows furrow as he continues to contemplate the slickness on his hand. You swallow hard, afraid to speak up.

Wordlessly, Namjoon wipes the remanence of your juices onto his thighs, his jaw set tightly as his mouth forms a thin line.

“Sir?” You croak out, “What’s wrong?”

There’s a moments pause before he finally speaks.

“Only sluts get that wet that quickly.”

You turn back to face the headboard, hiding your gleeful smile as his authoritative tone vibrates throughout your body. It’s been a while since he’s called you a slut in the bedroom. In fact, if you recall correctly, the last time he called you a slut was after he took that polaroid of you a few months ago. The same polaroid that he put in his Christmas ornament.

Dripping more than a loose faucet, all you want is for him to plug you up, to fill you completely.

Which he easily complies to.

Tingling with anticipation, you let out a soft moan as you feel Namjoon slide the tip of his cock up and down your folds. You shiver as if there’s a slight chill in the room, but really, you feel burning hot.

"Are you a good girl? Hmm? A good little slut?" He asks from behind you, hips unmoving as he rests his member deep within your cunt.

"I'm a very good girl, sir."

You fight every urge, every nerve in your body that screams to move, to get some sort of friction going from your body to his. But, like you said, you're a good girl. So, you grip tightly to whatever self control you have left.

"But not a good slut?" He massages the mounds of your ass, delicately running his fingers across your skin. Goosebumps spread across your body from the sensational touch as he continues his motions almost thoughtlessly.

So he's playing a game, you decide. Always trying to exercise that brain of his no matter the setting, that's Namjoon for ya.

"Oh, I'm the worst slut, sir," you play along, "I feel so bad for you, stuck with a broken play thing like me." You jut out your bottom lip to help enunciate the deep pout you're going for.

Namjoon growls in response, hips twitching as he refrains from moving still.

"What's wrong?" You consciously clench around him. "Having a hard time...focusing?" You roll your hips backwards, milking out a delicious moan from your husband’s lips. His hands grip your ass so tight that you wince. But it's totally worth it.

"Only," he pants, "I can talk about you like that."

Grabbing the belt from the side of the bed, he quickly and flawlessly wraps the leather around your throat, just below your chin and above your windpipe. Namjoon pulls back, momentarily cutting off your airways. He loosens it after counting to ten, a rule you both placed years ago when it comes to rough choking like this. The restricted air leaves you feeling lightheaded in all the best ways. It's a form of high unexplainable and unattainable through any other forms. And right when Namjoon pulls himself out just to slam back inside of you, he pulls on the belt once again so that when his cock hits the back of your walls you're more than sky high.

Thrusting slow, Namjoon works up a steady momentum that includes restricting your breath every so often. In a way, it's almost like orgasm denial every time he loosens his grip and lets you breathe properly again.

"Now," Namjoon's breath is raggedy after continuing to maintain his flawless control over his urges to pound you through the mattress, "Are you a good slut or a bad slut?"

"I'm a good slut, sir!" Your voice is faint against the belt. Namjoon has loosened his hold on it so that you could speak without too much struggle. But he quickly tightens it again, your eyes rolling backwards as he hits your sensitive spot over and over again. Namjoon guides your head back until you feel his chest against your back. His breath his hot against your ear as he growls through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy and inconsistent.

"You're mine."

Suddenly, the belt is tossed aside and Namjoon flips you onto your back. Air seems to be nowhere near your lungs as you gasp, your husband moving too quickly for your lightheaded brain to process.

He spreads your legs open, getting a clear look at your core. Cock twitching, Namjoon moans and fists himself as he stares at your naked body.

"It is so hard to keep my self control when you're around."

"I'm around all the time," you reply, watching him closely as he continues to attend to his weeping red member.

"That's the problem."

Nothing more needs to be said. He pounces like a predator on its prey. His hands grip your shoulders, using them as leverage as he buries his cock between your legs. It happens so fast you barely have time to appreciate the feeling of his head pushing past your walls, stretching you so perfectly it leaves you breathless.

Namjoon grips your thighs tightly as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. Nails raking against your skin leaves hot burning lines that make you gasp and moan. Whenever he shifts his weight on your thighs, it’s like a direct tingling line of sensation that shoots right to your core.

Namjoon’s bangs stick to his forehead with sweat, little dewdrops threatening to fall over your chest as he continues to thrust in and out of you. The rawness of his cock against you is gone, you’re so wet that he easily slides in and out of you. When you get this wet, as in...wetter than a fucking ocean, Namjoon likes to play a little game. He’ll slow down his thrusts, agonizingly inching his cock out of your hole and waits a few moments before pushing himself back in, bottoming out and slowly pressing against your sweet spots. Part of you thinks he does it to control the intensity of your flow, but the other part of you is nearly certain that he does it because he’s actually Satan himself and gets off on torturing you to no end.

And that's exactly what he starts to do.

Protesting will get you nowhere, you've learned that over the years of being with him sexually. Namjoon's self control is out of this world, even when he has his moments of weakness. You swear that man could go months without an orgasm if it meant teasing you into insanity.

"No!" It doesn't hurt to try to protest every now and then does it? "Namjoon please. No teasing. Fuck me like you mean it!"

Wordlessly, Namjoon picks up the polaroid camera from the side of the bed, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Let's make some magic, baby."

Pulling out of you slightly, Namjoon brings the camera to one of his eyes, squeezing the other eye tightly shut as he focuses the camera down at your private areas. Bright light flashes in the dimly lit room without warning, dazing you as you hear the whir of the camera spitting out the image it just captured. Dark colors litter your vision every time you blink, your eyes not adjusting as quickly as you would hope.

Carelessly, Namjoon tosses the polaroid to the left of the bed and removes his cock completely from your aching pussy.

"Turn around," he commands. "No, not like that." He groans as you position yourself on your hands and knees. You turn to look at him and ask what he means, but his large hand pushes the back of your head down until your cheek is squished against a pillow. Namjoon grabs your hips roughly, adjusting them back until your ass is as high up in the air as possible.

"Perfect," he mumbles. The tip of his cock greets your folds once again. They remain teasingly on your lips. Light flashes again followed by the loud whir. "Your ass looks amazing in this."

"You can't even see the photo yet." Grumbling against the pillow, you try to distract yourself from the ever growing ache within your cunt. This slow, unintentional teasing can only go on for so long.

"I know." You can hear the smile in his voice as he lovingly pets your right ass cheek. As you're about to reply, your walls are being stretched once again. Snarky reply forgotten, you moan out his name as he bottoms out inside you, not even wasting a moment before he pulls out and slams back inside.

Namjoon continues to snap his hips back and forth against you, the back of your thighs tingling with each thrust.

"Fuck!" he yells out, his pace quickening. "You feel so fucking good! I should have gotten a picture with that belt around your throat!"

You whimper your response, enjoying his cock too much to even form words.

"You're right," Namjoon's smirk is visible even in the dimly lit light. "We'll just have to do it next time."

The polaroid light flashes right as your orgasm takes over your body. Eyes rolled back, mouth wide open, it's a photo worthy enough to be the star on the Christmas tree. There might even be a hint of drool on your chin.

Before thoughts can even begin to form in your head, Namjoon's hands are on your waist once again, flipping you onto your back. The camera is in one hand as he aggressively pleasures himself to completion. White hot come paints your skin from the divots of your collar bone all the way down to your hip bones.

Panting loudly, Namjoon steadies himself as he stands over you, shaking hands raise up the camera, pointing directly at your cum covered self.

"Beautiful." Breathlessly, the picture is taken and your husband lays down besides you.

"I love our little sexmas tree." You smile brightly as you lean into Namjoon's arms as you both gaze at your now very not-safe-for-work Christmas tree, decorated entirely with the new polaroid photos you took less than an hour ago.

"Me too." He squeezes you tightly before freezing up. "We should probably take them down before you're parents come over tomorrow."

Clinging to Namjoon as you laugh, for a moment it feels like time slows. Your laugh sounds far away and you feel your body move as if it were underwater. It isn't a scary or unsettling feeling, no. In this moment you feel on top of the world. No one can knock you down.

All too quickly, things go back to normal.

"God, I would hate to see that reaction. But for now, let's leave them up."

Namjoon leans down and kisses you lightly on your left temple, guiding you back to the bedroom to get some well earned sleep.

© do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinitude 12/02/19

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

#Namjoon smut #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #moonchildnet #hyunglinenetwork #thekpopnet #magicshopnet #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kwordsmiths #kim namjoon #bts #kim Namjoon smut #bts smut #Namjoon x you #Namjoon x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #Namjoon fluff #husband namjoon #Namjoon x female reader #Namjoon cute #Namjoon sexy #dom joon #dom namjoon

[ceruleanskies]

19-1664 TPX: red (l.mk)- preview

plot: in a world where soulmates exist, you had given up hope of finding yours until a chance encounter with cyan, the batty old lady in your neighbourhood. from her book of colours, you choose ‘red’, transporting you to a reality where a bar on your arm indicates how dangerous your soulmate is.

details: assassin!au, soulmate!au

genre: romance, angst

word count: 8.6k

pairing: nct’s mark x fem!reader

warnings: death mentions, smut, mild violence

a/n: this is part of a collaboration based on a prompt, organised by the amazing @neo-cult-ure​ ! if you would like to be added to the tag-list, either leave a reply directly on this post or drop me an ask, and i’ll make sure to tag you when the work goes up! (sometime in may, date tbc)

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #nct smut #nct scenario #nct x reader #mark x reader #mark lee #nct mark #mark smut #mark scenario #mark lee smut #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct imagine

[ve1vetyoongi]

better with you | 02

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 18k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: (mostly) fluffy smut, unprotected penetrative sex, handjobs, oral (f recieving), creampie, spanking, lots of pining hhhhhh.

A/N: HELLO omg it’s literally been so long since i updated this fic and let me tell you it was so fun to finally write for these characters again!!! thank u for everyone who has sent lovely asks about the first chapter and for waiting so long for the next one! ily and i hope ur all staying safe and well during these crazy times my honeybuns <3<3

"Seokjin," You gasp. "N-not here."

Fingers toy with the hem of the expensive sequin dress you found wrapped up in tissue paper on your bed that morning, edging agonizingly closer to the damp throb between your legs that under normal circumstances would require immediate attention from Seokjin -- if only you weren't in the back seat of one of the Kim's private cars.

"Why not?" Seokjin mumbles against your neck, the way his plump lips nibble the lobe of your ear making you shiver. "I know you're wet for me. Nobody has to know if I just..."

His palm cups your heat brazenly, and you have to bite back a moan, cheeks flushing when Seokjin chuckles low and gravelly against your ear. Your arrangement as you've taken to calling it has been going on for a few weeks now, Seokjin dragging you along to family outings and fancy dinners as his fiance and rewarding you with sensual rendezvous and get-to-know-me time in between.

"I know you want it, sweetheart." He drags a finger down your panties and you whimper. "Just say the magic word, and I'll give it to you."

Oh god. You are so weak for his touch, and he knows it. The things Seokjin's tousled hair and cocky smirk make you feel should be illegal. Anyone would think you have the sex drive of a teenage boy, constantly eager to jump his bones just looking at him. But not now, not here. The windows might be tinted, but you are sure you spot the chauffeur's eyes drifting to the backseat in the rear view mirror.

"Sir," The driver coughs, eyes trained politely to the steering wheel. The car has stopped at some point, not that either of you noticed. "We have arrived."

Seokjin flashes you a satisfied look as his hand reluctantly slips out from beneath your skirt so he can fish around in his back pocket for his leather wallet, throwing a couple fifty dollar bills on the front seat as a tip. "Thanks, Pierre."

You're still busy straightening your skirt when the car door opens and a black-gloved hand helps you out onto the sidewalk. You can't help but blush ferociously when you meet the driver's knowing gaze, a smirk playing on his lips. "No problem, sir'"

"I'll take it from here." Seokjin nods to the driver and slips his elbow through yours. Pierre lifts his black cap, before getting back into his shiny Mercedes and whizzing off into the city traffic.

Your legs shake in your stilettos, partly because you're not used to walking in anything other than your beat up converse but mostly because of the reassuring smile Seokjin sends your when when he see's you glancing around nervously.

You're in a upper class part of town, the street lined with shiny black cabs and designer boutiques with French names you can't even pronounce. You can't help but feel out of place, like the eyes of every passerby see right through your immaculate rich facade and see you for the ordinary kitchen girl that you really are.

"Don't worry," He leans down, pressing his lips to your ear so only you can hear as he pretends to adjust your diamond necklace. At least you think its diamond...what would you know? "You look beautiful. Just relax."

A small smile plays on your lips. Beautiful. It makes your heart flutter like a butterfly between cupped palms, even though you know it shouldn't. That's been happening a lot lately, and you don't like how easily he can make you melt. Snap out of it!  You tell yourself.

Still, his reassurance makes you feel more at ease than before, and you straighten your shoulders with a new found confidence as Seokjin takes your hand in his, even if it is just for show. You have to make the fiance thing believable, after all.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." It's true -- Seokjin is good at keeping secrets. Probably because he knew that you'd say no to most of the crazy situations he seemed persistent on putting you in.

"Don't hate me," Seokjin eyes you carefully. You narrow your eyes, with a nod that says go on. "Hyejin wants us to go dress shopping."

"You bought me this new dress this morning?" You smooth down the front of the floaty summer dress that hugs your figure.

He coughs, eyes averting yours. "Wedding dress shopping."

That's when you come to a stop on the sidewalk outside of an elegant white-brick bazaar, eyes widening at the glaringly white dresses styled on mannequins that stare at you from behind the floor to ceiling windows.

Seoul Bridal - For All Your Wedding Dress Needs.

Your blood runs cold. Oh no.

You grip his hand tighter. "I'm going to kill you."

Seokjin is already pushing open the door with a chuckle that mingles with the tiny tinkling bell that rings out and announces your arrival. Too late to kick off your stiletto's and run.

"After you, sweetheart."

"Welcome to Seoul Bridal," A pretty lady with curly hair in a striped pant suit welcomes you inside with a hand shake. Her name tag says Wheein, and you can't take your eyes off the red lipstick on her teeth. "It's nice to finally meet you, Seokjin."

"The pleasure is all mine," Seokjin responds, voice deep with a suave charm that makes the girls behind the reception desk giggle unashamedly. For some reason you have to resist sending a glare their way, not missing the way your chest burns when Seokjin flashes them a dazzling smile. "Hyejin said you had some ideas for Y/N's wedding dress?"

"Of course. We have everything ready. We just need to get some measurements first." She smiles at him courteously, then whips a tape measure out of her trouser pocket which she wastes no time in wrapping around your waist. "Arms up, please." She murmurs as she slides the glasses balanced on top of her head behind her ears so she can get a better measurement of your shoulder width. You send an eyeroll Seokjin's way when you hear him snort bemusedly at the sudden man handling.

While Wheein bites the cap off a pen with her teeth and scribbles down the size ratio of your waist to your hips for future reference, you finally get the chance to take in the boutique properly. The sweet scent from the bouquets of white roses all over the room fills the air and the walls are painted a blush pink to match the faux fur rugs. Streams of sunlight pour through the chiffon curtains making the racks of blindingly white wedding dresses of all sizes and designs glow invitingly.

"Which one am I trying on?" You ask absentmindedly, nodding towards the sea of satin and lace hanging delicately from pink hangers.

Wheein looks up confused, then her nose wrinkles with distaste."Oh, none of these darling. You deserve the very best." She starts walking quickly towards a back room, heels click clacking as she beckons you to follow her with a crook of her finger. "We received some luxury designs from two of our best designers in London and Milan just this morning -- oh! And it looks like the dress from Paris just arrived!"

She shuffles you and Seokjin into a private dressing room, seating you on an elegant couch upholstered with grey velvet. Seokjin picks up one of the gossip magazines on the coffee table and helps himself to the complimentary cupcakes, all while you wring your hands together nervously, Wheein emerging from the large closet with three white garment bags.

"Here they are! Oh, how exciting." She claps her hands together with a beaming grin in your direction. With a flick of her wrist she removes all three bags, revealing three of the most beautiful dresses you've ever seen. You must look dazzled, because Wheein crosses her arms triumphantly. "Hyejin knew you'd like them. Just wait until you see the veils..."

She disappears into another room, and you're left gawking at the garments set in front of you like a goldfish. Fingers trembling, you reach out and touch the first one. It has a giant poofy skirt, like something you imagine a princess would wear, and you imagine how it would float down the aisle like a real life cloud. The second is more slinky, with shiny beads littering the bodice that glint silver beneath the glow of the chandelier and the third is made from gorgeous lace that shows skin in all the right places.

"How much did these cost?" You hiss to Seokjin, ripping your hand away like your touch alone might burn a hole in the fabric.

"Hm?" He says through a mouthful of cake, eyes widening when he takes in the dresses for himself." Too much, probably. Hyejin went a little over board but honestly, these aren't as bad as I was expecting." Seokjin runs his hand over the lace one, and nods approvingly. "You should've seen the rejects. One had a trail longer than my monster coc-"

"I can't try on any of these!" You splutter, arms hugging your torso. They're too beautiful for someone like me, is what you want to say, but you don't. "I'll look dumb."

"Just do it." He leans back against the wall with a roll of his eyes. Like this is all nothing to him. "It's not like you actually have to get married in one of them."

Ouch. His words sting, even though you know they're true, and you're reminded of the real reason you came here in the first place. It makes your stomach turn, how he can go from the sort of sweet Seokjin you know when you're alone to the cold, arrogant rich guy in the drop of a hat.

You turn away so he doesn't see your frown, when you catch a glimpse of something white in the corner, poking out from beneath a dust sheet. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and before you can help it you're crossing the room and ripping the sheet away to reveal another dress; except this one makes something in your chest flutter.

It's simpler than the others. Tiny white roses are stitched into the sleeves, the neckline dipping into a V shape where the bouncy chiffon skirt meets the satin waistband. It's straight forward, uncomplicated. Just how you like it.

"Have you decided which one you want to try on first?" Wheein's shrill voice calls, but it's drowned out by the blood pumping through your ears.

"That one." You breathe, pointing at the dress that you can't help but reaching out to touch.

"That one? Are you sure, darling, I'm sure we can find something more fancy--"

"No!" It comes out too loud, and you cover it with a cough, turning to send her a pleading smile. "I mean, no, no thank you. This one, please. I want to try it on."

"You know, when Hyejin told me Seokjin was finally getting married I just knew you would have to be something special." Wheein says once you're safely alone in the dressing room, away from prying eyes and mischievous ears. "Suck in."

"Hm?" It's all you manage to get out as you're strapped into a boned under-corset that feels like its trying to squeeze every last breath out of you. You're so close you can smell her floral perfume.

"It's just that I've had so many wedding dresses made that never made it to the aisle. Honestly I was starting to think Seokjin would never settle down..." She trails off, lip tugged between her teeth as she helps you step into the floaty white dress, tying the belt into a bow at your waist before stepping back to admire her handy work. "But now I see what made him change his mind. You make a beautiful couple."

"Oh." You realise she's looking at you, a blush creeping up your neck. "Right."

If only she knew the truth.

You start to turn towards the mirror, but she plants a hand on your shoulder hurriedly. "Nuh uh. No peeking yet." You feel your face drop. "Don't look so worried. It looks perfect. He's going love it."

"I...I have to show him? Now?" You shift uncomfortably. The shoes are rubbing your soles and the sleeves sort of itch. "Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the big day?" You ask sheepishly.

"This is just the rought blueprint," Wheein reassures. "It doesn't count."

"I..." Your voice breaks. The thought of Seokjin sat out there with his roaming eyes seeing you in this dress makes your stomach churn. "I'm nervous."

"Don't be. Save that for the big day." She bites her lip, stepping back to look you up and down like there's something missing. Her eyes light up, and she digs around in a leather trunk in the corner to retrieve a sparkly tiara which she tucks neatly into your hair. "There. Perfect. Now lets not keep him waiting, hm?"

"Holy shit."

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of it.

Your reflection stares back at you, wide eyed and awe stricken, except it doesn't look like you at all.

The dress is beautiful. There's no denying it. It hugs your waist perfectly and the skirt waterfalls down to your ankles in just the right way. Wheein tugged your hair over your shoulders so the sweetheart neckline shows off just the right amount of collar bone, tiara sparkling beneath the soft light. A matching veil partially covers your face, and you've never felt more beautiful than you do now.

It's almost enough to make you want to believe that this is all real. That you're marrying Seokjin. That you get to walk down the aisle looking like...this.

"I don't see why I have to get all dressed up, Wheein, it's no big deal -- woah."

The door flies open, and your eyes snap up to meet Seokjin's in the mirror.

He has half of his seventh cupcake hanging out of his slackened mouth, his hair gelled back and tousled to reveal his forehead, and his piercing brown eyes that can't seem to decide where to look, glancing up over your exposed shoulders and down to your ass and back again, like he can't get enough.

He's lost his casual slacks from earlier, seemingly under Wheein's instruction, now clad in a black suit and matching shiny-toe'd shoes. His tie hangs slack around his neck, like he tugged it loose, and he fiddles awkwardly with his cuff links as he tries to get a grip over his roaming eyes.

"Y-Y/N you look--"

"Beautiful, right?" Wheein straightens his shirt, fastens his cuff links and knocks him beneath the chin to remind him to close his gawking mouth with a tut. He nods, speechless. "I'll leave you two to talk."

The door shuts behind her, and the room suddenly feels quieter than now you and Seokjin are alone, him on one side of the room, you on the other. You dare to meet his eyes and you find them staring straight at you, the glint that's usually there replaced with a wonder that's soft and gentle around the edges. You melt beneath his gaze.

He clears his throat, scratching a phantom itch at the back of his neck. It's the first time you've seen Seokjin seem sort of...awkward?

"C'mere." His voice is low, filled with something you can't quite put your finger on. "I want to see you."

You have to remember how to get your feet to work, hesitantly putting one in front of the other to cross the room. Seokjin stands with his palms clasped, a small smile playing on his lips as you close the space between you, and you swear you can hear the wedding bells already.

After what feels like ages, you stop a few paces away from him. He steps towards you carefully, flipping the veil out of your eyes like he's done it a million times before.

"Hey." You whisper. You don't know what else to say, but it makes Seokjin laugh and the sound makes your chest squeeze.

He looks dapper in his suit, like a real groom, and as he leans in closer, closer, until there's barely any distance between you, you can smell his cologne.

Your eyes fall shut instinctively. You almost swear when you open them there'll be a pastor and a pair of rings and Seokjin will be saying I do--

"You scrub up pretty well, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, and your eyes snap open to punch him in the chest playfully.

"I could say the same for you, mister."

A thumb grazes your jaw, tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. "Whoever gets to marry you is one lucky bastard."

The pounding in your chest is so loud you're sure the whole store can hear it. His lips are inches from yours, parted and plush. You've kissed them plenty of times before but only in the height of passion. Never like this. Not when his touch feels like a jolt of electricity running straight from his body and right into yours.

Just when you think he's going to give in and close the distance, he turns your face in his palm and plants a peck on your cheek. It's soft, careful. Like he's not really sure of it himself, his hand running through your hair before he takes a couple steps back with a shake of his head. Like he almost did something he shouldn't have.

"What time do you have to be at work?"

The question breaks you out of your trance. You realize he's staring at you expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Oh--not until this evening." You manage to choke out.

"Good. Then you're all mine for the afternoon." He grabs another cupcake from the stand and disappears behind one of the fitting room curtains. "Hurry and give the dress back to Wheein and I'll call Pierre to come pick us up."

"Where are we going?"

You hear him snort. "You'll see."

"This is where you wanted to take me?"

The late afternoon sun sparkles on the surface of the Paradise lake like diamonds. It's peaceful here at this time of day, the gardeners already disappearing into the lounge for a late lunch, rows of pastel canoes tied up to the dock bobbing in time with the chirping birds.

"Well?" Seokjin huffs impatiently. He's stood in the hull of a dark blue canoe that he stole from the boat shed — or borrowed, as he put it, since everything here belongs to him anyway — hand extended towards you. "Aren't you getting in?"

You narrow your eyes and nod towards the sign that says NO BOATS ON THE LAKE AFTER 4PM in curly gold letters. "Isn't that breaking the rules?"

Seokjin raises a brow, jangling a set of keys. "I own this place remember? Besides, I stole the boat worker's keys so we can stay for as long as we want."

The breeze ruffles your skirt, a shiver running down your spine when you peer over the edge of the dock and see your sheepish reflection staring up at you from the water, rippling and watery around the edges. You never did like deep water, and the thought of getting in that rocking capsule of death makes your stomach churn.

"It looks cold," You point out, grimacing at the clear blue water. "What if we fall in? Do you even know how to steer this thing?"

Seokjin shoots you a look, like you just said the dumbest thing he's ever heard. "Pfft. Of course. I've been taking rowing lessons since I could toddle."

Of course he has. You roll your eyes. Rich kids, huh?

"Oh come on, it's fine!" He jumps up and down as if to demonstrate just how safe, but the boat just rocks manically side to side and he has to grab the dock to steady himself before he plunges straight into the lake. He flashes you a sheepish smile. "See?"

You cross your arms, unconvinced. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

Seokjin slumps into the canoe with an exaggerated sigh. "Well goddamn, I'm sorry for wanting to do something nice. We don't get much alone time so I thought—" He waves his hand at you in frustration, starting to unravel the rope keeping the boat secured to the dock. "You know what, fuck it, I'll just go by myself—"

"Wait!" Something about the disappointed frown on his face makes you change your mind. Fuck it. "I'm getting in."

He pauses, and then his lips curve up into a small smile. Not his usual too-big-too-polite smile; the kind of smile you reserve for special moments. The glint in his eye is back, and if your legs weren't already jelly, they are now.

"I knew you couldn't resist me." He stands up and puffs out his chest, offering you his hand again, which you take this time.

"Don't be an idiot." You flush. "The lake just looks inviting today."

"Whatever you say, sweetheart." He chuckles, before his arm wraps around your waist so he can throw you over his shoulder and tip you into the canoe.

"Seokjin!" Your knuckles whiten with how hard you grip the edge of the boat that tilts left to right sickeningly with the impact of your limp body being man handled into the hull. "Be careful!"

"Okay, okay. Just sit back. Relax. Enjoy the view..." You wobble over to the wooden seat opposite him, grateful for the way the boat balances out on the surface of the water. "Let me take care of everything."

You have to admit the view is beautiful. Dangling your hand over the edge of the boat, you let your fingers swirl through the cool water, and listen to the hum of a speedboat nearby. The sun has turned the water a yellowish hue, like liquid gold.

When you look back up at Seokjin, the sight of his lightly perspiring skin glowing beneath the stream of light as he unties the left oar practically takes your breath away. You almost want to reach out and see what it would feel like to touch his cheek, run your hand down his chest where his flesh peeks out from the top of his dress shirt...

"Ah, shit!"

There's a light splash and you're snapped out of your trance, a pair of sheepish eyes staring back at you.

Yeah. Never mind.

Seokjin peers over the edge of the boat, watching as one of the oars floats into the middle of the lake. The canoe has already floated just out of reach of the dock, so without it you are stranded.

You let out a panicked groan. "I thought you knew how to steer this thing?"

"I do!" He grunts, a flush creeping up his neck. "Besides, I said I knew how, not that I was good at it."

He fumbles with the latch beneath his seat which opens to reveal a secret compartment, inside of which are a pair of life jackets, and, much to your relief, a spare oar.

"Aha! We're saved." Seokjin pulls it out and waves it at you with a look of satisfaction.

You roll your eyes and settle back into your seat as Seokjin grasps both oars and starts to row. "Wow, my hero."

"Don't thank me too hard." He snorts.

You shoot him a look, and he breaks into laughter, the sound melodic enough to have you joining in and before you know it you're both chortling uncontrollably. It feels easy, nice.

Your laughter dies out into a hazy giggle, and you shut your eyes, letting the sun caress your face.

"You're nothing like how I expected you to be, y'know."

Seokjin splashes you gently with the oar. "What did you expect?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Stuck up, selfish rich dude with an ego complex?" You snort, but Seokjin's chuckles have disappeared now. His brows are furrowed when you open your eyes, and you feel sort of bad for ruining the ease that had settled between you. You shift awkwardly. "Can you blame me?"

"Huh," The boat floats beneath the shade of a weeping willow, the scent of white blossoms and freshly cut grass filling your senses, and Seokjin hauls the oars into the boat so he can rest for a while. "You know, it pisses me off that everyone sees me that way. I don't want to be that guy."

"Why?" You're surprised by his honesty. There's a sincerity in his voice that you've never heard before.

"I just...I just try and fit in. To make everyone happy, I guess."

He avoids your gaze, looking out over the lake with his chin in his palm and his shoulders slumped. Your heart twists.

"If it helps, I don't see you as that guy anymore." You shrug. "When we first met I thought you were just like everyone else at Paradise. But you're...different from everyone around here. Nice. Underneath all the designer of course." That earns a snort from him. "Why do you hide that side of yourself?"

"You're hardly one to talk about hiding, kitchen girl." He crosses his legs and points a finger at you. "One minute you're calling me a douche and shooting arrows like an Olympian and the next you're getting all insecure when I call you pretty or something."

You feel a blush rise in your cheeks. Insecure? Is that how he sees you?

"Do not." You mumble.

"You act like you're so much better than me for being good, and then have a fit when I say something nice."

"Well, I never asked you to call me pretty. That wasn't part of the deal." You pick at an invisible piece of lint on your skirt. "I figured you were humouring me."

Seokjin's eyes turn serious. He leans forward, like he's about to take your hand or something but changes his mind.

"I know...that what we have is weird. I know I ask you for a lot, and we're supposed to be strictly friends with benefits but—" He sighs, trying to find the right words."I like spending time with you. Like this. Just us."

You feel giddy, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. "I do too."

"And I always mean what I say, Y/N." A breeze ruffles his hair, and he shoots you a grin. "Like I said earlier, whoever gets to call you theirs is one lucky bastard."

I'll be yours, you want to say, but you know it would be futile; someone like Seokjin could never belong to you, and that's exactly why you don't belong here.

"Oh shit."

Before you can respond, Seokjin's expression is turning grave as you both watch with matching horror as the spare oar splashes into the lake.

"Please tell me there's another one underneath there." You nod towards the storage compartment with wide eyes.

"Nope." He scratches his neck awkwardly and shrugs."That was our only one."

"Then shouldn't we call for help or something?!"

"No, I have an idea. You lean over the edge and I'll hold your legs."

"Me?! Why can't you do it."

"Because I'm heavier, duh? I'll tip the boat." He links his fingers together pleadingly. "At least try, or else we'll be stuck out here all night!"

You cup your hand around your watch face to block the glaring sun. Your kitchen shift starts in forty five minutes and you can't afford to be late. Namjoon will certainly fire you on the spot.

"Fine!" You wobble to your feet and slide over to his side of the boat. "But you better not let go, or I'll kill you."

Seokjin salutes. "Scouts honour."

Before you can change your mind, Seokjin has both hands wrapped around your thighs and you're sent hurtling head first over the edge of the boat, face inches from the water's surface.

With a grunt you extend your arm, and your fingertips barely brush the oar, sending it further away.

"Fuck!" You call over your shoulder. Seokjin is red in the face with extortion, and you feel the boat rock as you lean further out. "I can't go any more or we'll tip!"

"Just a little more!" Seokjin yells back. "You've almost got it."

"Okay...almost..." You shift a little more and aha! The oar is just within your grasp! Until you hear a low buzzing coming from behind you, and you hear Seokjin yelp, his grip on your legs starting to slacken... "Jin? what are you doing?"

"Get off me!" He yells, letting go of you in favour of slapping something on his shoulder wildly, and before you can give him a piece of your mind the canoe loses its balance and tips upside down, sending the pair of you hurtling into the lake.

You manage to hold your breath before you go under. The water is an icy shock on such a warm summers day, your limbs flying into action and scrambling wildly until you break the surface and take a heaving breath.

Wiping the tendrils of dripping hair from your eyes, you glance around for Seokjin, but he's no where to be seen.

"Seokjin?" You call, panic evident in your voice. "Where are you?"

Bubbles appear on the surface of the water, and before you can let out a sigh of relief, a hand grabs your ankle and yanks you back under the water.

When you surface, choking and spluttering, you're beneath the cover of the upturned canoe. Seokjin grins at you, whole and in one piece and perfectly alive, and you can't help but feel pranked.

"Hey, sweetheart." He drawls, running his fingers through his soaking hair. The shadow of the rippling water reflects on the underside of the canoe, turning his skin a pale blue. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Seokjin!" You yell and he jumps when you start splashing him wildly. "What the fuck was that?"

He shields his face with his hands."It was a bee! I'm allergic."

"So? I was hanging out of a fucking canoe!"

"Oops." He's chortling now, and it echoes beneath the canoe. "Did I let go?"

You splash him again, and he grabs your hands with his to stop you from sending another tsunami his way. His palms are warm compared to your clammy ones and his eyes are watching you fondly, but that just pisses you off even more. "Okay! Okay! I get it, I'm sorry okay?"

"You idiot! Now I'm all wet and I'm totally going to smell like trout at work and—"

"Just shut up for a second would you?" A hand brushes the tangles of wet hair from your cheek, and before you know it a pair of plump lips are crashing against your own.

"Mmf!"

You're surprised at first, but there's something so tender in the way his hand cups your chin to pull you closer, how his arm curls around your waist, and before you know it you're grabbing him by the collar and kissing him back wildly like the world is ending and you're the last two people on earth.

"You're kinda cute when you're mad." Is what Seokjin whispers against your lips when he pulls back, out of breath.

"Oh." You breathe, a smile beginning to play on your lips. "Okay."

It's like you're in your own little bubble. Just Seokjin and you. You and Seokjin.

Until it bursts.

"Holy shit! Are you guys okay?" The sun is glaringly bright when the canoe is ripped away from your heads, and you have to squint through your fingers to see the figure swimming towards you.

"M-mr Kim?"

Seokjin jumps back from your body at the sound of his title, his hand letting go of your wrist. It falls into the water limply.

"That's me." He coughs, straightening his tie, like he isn't soaking wet and it's somehow going to make him look more professional.

"I didn't know you were rowing today..." Your eyes focus, and you instantly recognise Taehyung, the Paradise lifeguard. You have met a couple times at staff meetings.

Shit. You turn your face to the side, and hope he won't look to closely.

"I wasn't." Seokjin deadpans, gesturing to his soaking appearance. "Y/N and I thought we would go for a swim."

"I— oh." You muffle a chuckle at Seokjin's sarcasm and the wide eyes of the life guard who seems utterly stunned.

It doesn't seem so funny when he turns to you suddenly, eyes scrutinising, and offers you his elbow.

"Here take my arm, we have to get you two dry."

You glance at Seokjin carefully, but he just nods for you to go ahead, so you take Taehyung's arm and let him pull you back to the dock, Seokjin leisurely kicking on his back behind you like he doesn't have a care in the world.

Once you're safely on dry land, Taehyung disappears into the boat shed before returning with a pair of towels which he drapes around your shoulders with a concerned look.

"Take these. You aren't hurt, miss?"

"No." Seokjin answers for you with a roll of his eyes. There's a bite in his tone. Is he...jealous?

"Good, this is why we say no boats after 4..." Taehyung sends Seokjin a stern look, and you feel the tension rise when he just clicks his tongue in response. "I should really report this to my supervisor."

"We won't do it again," Seokjin's eyes bulge when you grab Taehyung's forearm. The lifeguard seems surprised himself, looking you in the eyes for the first time. You turn on a sickly sweet tone and bat your lashes. "We can keep this between us, hm?"

"I...I suppose so." Taehyung coughs, but then his eyes narrow. "Hold on a second. Do I know you from somewhere?"

Your mouth turns dry. "I..."

"No!" Seokjin jumps in between you, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder. "She's not from around here."

His face has turned a deep shade of red, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly against your back. Anyone would think he was embarrassed. Then again, what did you expect? You are just a kitchen girl after all.

You nod slowly. He sighs with relief. "No. We've never met."

Taehyung scratches his chin, stepping back to get a better look at you. "It's just you look super familiar..."

"We have to be going now!" Seokjin stands up suddenly and grabs you by the hand. He squeezes extra tight, swinging your interlocked fingers where Taehyung can clearly see them. "Thanks, uh...Taehyung?"

"My pleasure, Mr. Kim." The lifeguard looks startled by Seokjin's sudden departure, but steps back to let you pass. "Be careful next time okay?"

"Yup, we will kid."

"Thanks!" You call over your shoulder, as Seokjin is already dragging you away from the lake and up the steps to the grand veranda that lines the resort.

"Thanks?" He rolls his eyes. "Y/N, the lake is like a foot deep, it's not like we were gonna drown."

"He was nice..." You bump his shoulder playfully. "Why? You jealous?"

His cheeks flush pink. "No! Of course not, I just...didn't like the way he looked at you."

You reach the top of the steps, and Seokjin slows down to a leisurely walk once he's in the clear. From here you can see the whole of the resort, sprawling greenery and luxury living in all its glory.

"Speaking of, that was a close one." You laugh. "He totally almost recognised me."

"Yeah." Seokjin laughs too, but then his face drops. "You're right. That was close."

"Seokjin?"

He stops, and turns towards you. His hand drops to your waist, lifting you up so you're sat on the balcony's edge, and then his mouth is capturing yours once again.

This time something feels different. It's desperate, but timid. Passionate but broken. It leaves you breathless.

He pulls away first.

"Jin, what just happened—"

"I..." He swallows thickly and looks away. "I shouldn't have done that. I've gotta go. I'm sorry."

It's then, as he turns and hurries down the back staircase towards the plaza and leaves you all alone on the veranda, that you realise you had never let go of his hand, not even for a second.

"I had fun tonight." Seokjin says as he drops you off at the Paradise gates after an evening spent perusing high fashion wedding venue magazines with Hyejin over tea and finger sandwiches. "Hyejin looked like she was on the verge of a stroke when I suggested walking down the aisle to The Thong Song."

Seokjin boasts a simple T-shirt and tailored pants tonight, the turtle neck draped over his shoulder unnecessary on such a warm and sticky summer night blessed by the lingering caress of the day's blazing sun. The drive slopes downwards, Seokjin's angular shadow a contrast against the twinkling lights that blur Paradise into a picturesque backdrop of pristine white brick, and a warmth spreads through your chest as he beams at you.

"I thought it was a fine choice," You muse, suppressing a giggle when you think back to the way Hyejin dropped her teacup at Seokjin's suggestion, eye twitching in disgust. "We're not even engaged yet and she already has our entire wedding planned out."

Oops. Seokjin stiffens. Your laughter comes to an abrupt stop, face reddening with embarrassment at your slip up. Of course you aren't engaged. You never will be. At least not to each other.

He's been weird like that, lately. Ever since that day at the lake when he left abruptly, seemingly shaken up, you've been walking on egg shells around him. One wrong word could send him flying away with that same scared look in his eye. And honestly, you still don't understand why.

All you know is that things have been different since you almost got caught at the lake. Sure, you've continued to hook up like normal, but Seokjin seems to be making a conscious effort to be more distant around you. You haven't talked about what happened that afternoon on the veranda, but it's clear something did; Seokjin hasn't kissed you since.

If Seokjin notices your poor word choice, he doesn't mention it. "Pretty sure she has my entire life planned out too." He murmurs almost bitterly, despite his face boasting a smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. You figure it's better not to press him further.

He walks beside you to the end of the drive in a relative silence that feels all too loud — not awkward per se but filled with a definite unspoken tension that has you hiding behind your hair, eyes trained to the ground because you don't know how you are supposed to look at Seokjin when it was just you and him.

Moments like this, not heightened by passion or under the watchful eyes of his family are rarities. You take a deep breath and try to savour the taste of geraniums which lingers in the air from the gardens and the closest thing to normal you have ever experienced around Seokjin.

Despite the the emotional distance Seokjin seems intent on keeping in place, every physical step seems to edge you closer to him, eyes trained to the way his shoes sidestep until you are practically shoulder to shoulder. Seokjin doesn't so much as look at you as he does so and you are content to think he is too deep in his own thoughts to notice the way your bodies cling to each other like magnets, until the tips of his fingers brush against your palm in a delicate touch that may have been perceived as intimate had he not ripped it away with a pained expression, like he touched an electric fence or something.

You have admit that you felt it too. The spark as they describe it in romance movies. It was more of a tingle really, warm and fuzzy as it fizzed all the way from your hand to a spot in your chest suspiciously close to your heart that was beating a little faster now as you imagine how it would feel if he took your hand in his.

Except he doesn't. And when you glance up at him he is no longer engaged with his own thoughts but rather staring at you with a questioning look, brows slightly furrowed, and embarrassment replaces the fuzz in your veins when you consider for a moment that perhaps he was reading your mind and the completely inappropriate thoughts for a fake bride to have for her fake husband along with it.

The flush that caresses your cheeks is nearly as vibrant as the rose bushes which line the drive, perfectly pruned and as beautiful beneath lantern light as they are in the day and a perfect reminder of your embarrassment as you create a relative distance between your body and his. That way you were sure you could keep your hands - and your thoughts - strictly to yourself.

Far too quickly you find yourself turning the corner onto the street where you always part ways, the stoney gravel evening out into the same boring old scuffed concrete that winds through the entire city, a clear indication that you were leaving behind the Paradise grounds and entering the not so pristine visual of reality.

Usually you were glad to be on your way, sick of talking about neck lines and lace types and the way your shoulders ached from nodding politely at people who got wine drunk on weekdays but tonight you feel like you could keep walking with Seokjin forever in this strange bubble of unspoken words.

But you know as soon as he stops dead beside you that the bubble has already burst, floating away just out of your grasp like the false reality you live at Paradise.

"I'll be going then." It's quiet out here, not a trace of the music from Jazz night at the bar or the laughter of couples crossing the plaza to their suites after a few too many Chardonnays. Seokjin opens his mouth and then closes it again while you fidget awkwardly. "Thanks for a good night."

The way you say it sounds like he took you on a real date, one that you were supposed to thank him for. It's too late by the time you realize that a boundary has been overstepped when Seokjin doesn't return the genuine smile you shoot him as you turn to leave.

"Wait!" The click of your shoes against the sidewalk halts at the serious husk in his tone, jarringly loud against the silence. "I need to ask you something."

His face is partially lit by the street lamp you find yourself beneath, casting half of his face in a golden glow that emphasizes the shadow of his lashes against his cheeks when he closes his eyes, as if to briefly collect his words.

Despite your better judgement, probably blinded by the normality you had fallen into, you press him further. "What is it?"

"Listen Y/N..." Seokjin scratches the back of his neck and you shift awkwardly in front of him, chest suddenly tightening with a niggling dread. "You haven't told anyone about us have you?"

"Us?" Your eyes widen. Since when did Seokjin start referring to you as a pair? You tilt your head quizzically. "I mean, your sister and your parents know —

"No, I mean the things that we...do in private." The summer evening suddenly turns chilly. Seokjin must notice when your face drops, the way you hug your arms to try and keep hold of the warmth that had practically singed each of your nerve endings just a moment ago.

"Things?" You splutter. "Is that all they are to you?"

You can't help it. The way Seokjin talks when you are intimate, the way he kissed you so desperately that day on the veranda -- it made it feel like those moments meant more to him. He was damn convincing - when he told you that he wanted you, you believed him - and you can't help but feel cheated.

Seokjin's brow simply furrows, flummoxed by your sudden outburst. "Yeah, I mean we had an agreement — isn't that all they are to you?"

An agreement.

The way he says it sounds like your relationship is strictly business. As if he's paying you for a service - which, in his own way, you suppose he is. Sure, you knew he wasn't really going to fall in love with you in the way he told his family he loved you but you thought he at least felt something — no, you were sure he had at the lake. Maybe you were just confusing pleasure with intimacy.

Still, the way his finger points at you accusingly makes a hot rage rise in your chest but you simply take a shaky breath and plaster the closest thing to a grin on your features as you can muster.

"Of course they are." The sweetness in your voice is a little too forced, but it goes unnoticed on Seokjin who lets out a sigh of relief. "None of this means anything. I know that."

"Good. Then we're on the same page..." He still looks slightly unconvinced - you can just make out the way he narrows his eyes doubtfully in the dim light - but he doesn't have time to press further before a black car rolls into the drive and he clasps your wrist to pull you across the paving and into the shadows. "Watch out!"

Seokjin suddenly yanks you closer to him, your chest nearly pressed up to his. You almost mumble a thanks, idiotic enough to think that his only motive is to prevent you getting flattened by a Mercedes Benz nearly invisible in the night if not for the crunch of tyres against gravel.

But then you feel his breath hitch when he catches a glimpse of your white kitchen uniform reflected in one of the tinted car windows, sending a salute towards the security guard in the drivers seat with fingers crossed behind his back, and you silently condemn yourself for thinking he cared about anything other than his reputation even for a second. You go numb.

You look between your bodies where your hand dangles limply in his grasp. Just a moment ago you were envisioning how it would feel for him to hold your hand in his, the way his skin brushed yours enough to give you shivers. Now it just made the hollow ache in your chest throb with a cold emptiness.

Seokjin strains his neck, only releasing you from his hold when the glow of headlights disappears around a corner and you are smothered by darkness again.

Seokjin's sigh of relief stings. The words never leave his lips but you can tell what he was thinking. Phew, now I don't have to explain why I, almighty Kim Seokjin, was conversing with a staff member after hours. Lucky escape!

A smile appears on his face, as if you were supposed to share his relief. "So, same time tomorrow?"

You feel yourself stagger away from him in shock. Seokjin is many things but you didn't think he was heartless. It's enough to send you over the edge.

"Clearly we are not on the same page." You spit. "Actually, you know what? No. I'm busy tomorrow."

Seokjin scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "Doing what?"

"I have things to do." Your emphasis on the word makes his eyes widen,

"Oh great!" He barely raised his voice before glances behind him warily, making sure there was no one around to see him getting heated. When he turns back his voice is nothing but a harsh whisper. "And what do you expect me to tell my family, huh?"

"Tell them that your fiancé to be had to go do the job they actually pay her to do." The way he laughs breathily makes your fists clench at your sides as you turn on your heels and stalk down the street before he can see the way your face reddens with a combination of hurt and anger, though not before you are calling over your shoulder despite knowing it would only fuel the fire. "Unless you're too embarrassed to tell them who I really am."

"You don't seem to mind when you're cashing in your favours." He calls after you, hands on hips with a bitterness lacing his voice that makes your heart twist painfully.

You hear the way your pulse quickens, the lump in your throat growing bigger and bigger as you stop dead. "What?"

"Y/N, I didn't mean that I —"

"So that's what this is? You are embarrassed of me?" Your voice raises incredulously.  "Is that why you've been so weird with me since Taehyung almost recognised me at the lake? You're scared someone will snitch on you to your rich friends?"

"No, I--"

"No what, Jin?" You let out a hollow laugh. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's just you and I...we could never be anything more, you know that right? I don't want you to get the wrong idea. We don't come from the same background and it would be..." He pauses. "Inappropriate."

"It's too late, anyway. Forget I said anything." Tears streak your cheeks hotly and you hide behind your hair, determined to hide your weakness from him. "This was a mistake."

You start to walk away, but then you're running, as fast as you can away from Paradise and all the hurt. The sound of Seokjin's tennis shoes hitting the concrete picks up as he follows you down the path, calling your name, and for a moment you think he's going to comfort you. Tell you that he was sorry and that none of this was meaningless to him after all.

But he doesn't.

"I'll text you!" Is the last thing he calls before you disappear around the corner out of sight. You want to sneak a look over your shoulder, see him standing there at the end of the street beneath the street light.

Instead you resist, letting the bitterness pooling in your stomach rise up and burn your throat like bile. "Don't bother!"

Either he listened or he didn't mean it when he said he would text you.

The anger that ran hot through your bloodstream after your fight with Seokjin has faded to nothing but an indescribable emptiness and regret.

You haven't heard from him in three days. That is a long time where Seokjin is concerned and completely out of character.

Even on normal days, when you had a day off from pretending to be his fiancé, Seokjin would find a way to make you laugh by sending you a low angle selfie from the dinner table at one of his father's business conferences or a cheeky message to let you know he'd just seen you walk past the golf court wearing the red sundress that he liked.

You couldn't remember when Seokjin became a normal part of your day. Just like brushing your teeth or washing your hair, you had become almost expectant of a vibration against your thigh at work or the ping! of your ringtone before you went to sleep or even a heated make out behind the restaurant when you just couldn't wait any longer.

So when it all suddenly came to a stop, you were sure you were going crazy. All you were left with was a feeling of emptiness, as if something vital was missing.

It wasn't even as if he owed you anything, not really - it was true that the romance wasn't real and even the sex was just sex to him; but at some point you had to admit you had crossed some kind of invisible barrier. In between lying to his family, public "dates" flavoured by champagne and hanging off his forearm at celebratory cocktail parties, you and Seokjin had become friends.

(Sort of. If you ignored the parts where his lips made you lose your breath or the night's that ended with his head between your legs.)

So god forbid you expected something from him after your fight the other night. A sign that he cared, if even a little bit. An apology for the way he'd deliberately tried to hurt you.

That's how you find yourself checking your phone anxiously on your kitchen shift breaks, refreshing your inbox obsessively and trying to ignore the heaviness weighing down your chest with each passing hour without even so much as one of the cheesy emojis he used way too frequently to be ironic lighting up your screen.

He even stopped dropping by the restaurant under the guise of a casual lunch like he usually did. You found yourself on edge, breath fogging up the glass of the window with your disappointment every time you heard the door zip open and you rushed to greet him, only to be met with someone utterly not Kim Seokjin.

You thought you saw his broad figure dipping into one of the other restaurants across the plaza instead one afternoon as you left work and you couldn't help but wonder if he shamelessly flirted with the kitchen staff there, too.

It hurts knowing that it was so easy for him to cut you out of his life completely when he had become such a constant part of yours. It hurts knowing that he probably wasn't even thinking of you when he was the only thing on your mind.

And to make matters worse, it seems that the tight smiles and vacant nods you shoot Jimin as he divulges the latest and greatest Paradise gossip he overheard while serving at some fancy dinner party last night didn't do a good job at hiding the melancholy gloom which hangs over your head.

He's still talking as you swipe your cards to check out of work, charmingly holding the door ajar for you to slip outside the restaurant where you told Jungkook you'd wait for him to join you.

The air is cooler than expected against your face, the first time that summer where the sky is covered by splotches of grey cloud that refuse to let any blue peek through like an ugly patchwork quilt that mirrors your ugly mood.

"Y/N, didn't your hear me? Mr Kim's wife literally grabbed him by the balls and threw him out of the building when she caught him cheating with the waitress — wait, are you okay?"

Jimin is already half way down the limestone stairs, too caught up in his own dramatic storytelling to notice the way you stand rigid at the top. The phone in your palm is lit up with the same three words that have haunted you all day — NO NEW MESSAGES — but Jimin's question breaks your trance for a moment.

"Huh? No, I'm fine." You assure, slipping the device into your back pocket, swallowing thickly and mustering up a watery smile you hope will appease him before he can ask any more questions.

It doesn't work.

"You've been acting weird all day." Your legs feel wobbly as you close the distance between you, like the very foundations of your body are beginning to give in to the weight that has set up camp in your chest no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

"I have?" Jimin is peering at you with narrowed eyes, not malicious necessarily but inquisitive. They narrow further when you sigh shakily, averting your gaze to the shirtless gardener who mows the green lawns that spread out as far as the eye can see into perfect lines, counting the distant rose bushes as a distraction from the impending tears that have begun to well. "I don't want to talk about it."

Jimin throws an arm around your shoulder a little too roughly to be comforting, following your stagnant gaze. "Damn he's kinda cute." The lack of witty remark from you when he lands a jokey punch to your shoulder seems to finally perk Jimin's attention. "Tell me, are you and Mr Kim Seokjin having trouble in Paradise?"

Jimin lets out a snort at his own pun before he spots the sullen look on your face, covering his impending chuckle with a cough and releasing you from his grasp to sling his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Oh shit, really?"

You simply sniff in response, allowing that to be confirmation enough, slumping down onto the grand staircase and letting your face fall into your hands.

Jimin plonks down beside you, sidling up until your knees touch, the simple act of comfort making the tears that had been threatening to emerge all day prick hotly at the corners of your eyes.

"I messed up, Jimin." Your voice is muffled by your palms but that doesn't mask the way it wavers slightly, Jimin's hand immediately rubbing soothing circles into your back. "I think he's mad at me."

"Why?"

"Because I basically told him that I kind of have feelings for him—"

"You did what?" Jimin grabs you by the elbow, alerting the atention of a guy in a velour tuxedo leaving the restaurant who gives the hot tears staining your cheeks a funny look. "Hold up, go back. You have feelings for Seokjin?"

Even with vision blurred by tears you can see the wide eyed expression on Jimin's face. You cross your arms in a pout. "Well you don't need to say it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the idea is completely crazy or something."

Jimin runs an exasperated hand through his hair. "So you mean the truth?"

It isn't the way he says it so much as the realisation that he is right that stings. You bow your head, a few silent tears rolling down your cheeks until you can taste their saltiness. "I know, I know. I'm not good enough for a person like him, I was stupid—"

Jimin shakes his head gently, placing his palms firmly on both of your shoulders and forcing you to face him head on. "Listen up because I'm about to serve you a cup of piping hot real shit, okay?"

You wipe your nose noisily on your sleeve, giving him a curt nod. "Okay."

"The reason you and Seokjin will never work out has nothing to do with you so I won't accept any of that mopey shit." Jimin shakes you vigorously as if he is knocking some sense into you, and you offer him a tearful giggle. "Truth is, Seokjin can't see a good thing when he has it because there is no room in his rich ass heart for anything other than money and his reputation."

"But—"

"No buts!" Jimin shucks up his sleeves until they cover his hands like paws, using the fabric to dab away your tears, unphased by the growing damp spots on both of his cuffs. "The sooner you realise that Seokjin's issues are not your issues the better."

Your tears are dry now. You're pretty sure Jimin's pep talk ended your momentary wobble but your voice still sounds slightly hoarse when you speak. "It just felt like more when we...you know..." You wave your hands around wildly hoping Jimin will fill in the blank, which he does with a click of his tongue.

"Then you need to stop sleeping with him immediately."

"What?"

"You know what I think?" Jimin links his arm with yours, pulling you alongside him. "I think that you're confusing intimacy with actual feelings."

Maybe he's right. It's natural for emotions to be heightened when Seokjin is making you literally fall apart beneath him, probably for him too which would explain the intimate things he had said. Perhaps all this time you were just confusing loving the way he made you feel for loving...him. After all, you had always thought the regular Seokjin was kind of an asshat at times. Of course you didn't have feelings for him!

"You know what? I think you're right." Jimin raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if he was expecting you to be harder to win around. You slap a palm to your forehead. "I can't believe I actually thought I caught feelings for him for a second."

"Happens to the best of us." Jimin grins. "If I was getting dicked down by that beautiful god of a man then I'd want to have his babies too. Imagine how cute they'd be..."

"Jimin!" You smack him playfully before leaning across to rest your head on his shoulder, his chuckles vibrating against your cheek. "You just basically told me he's an asshole."

"And I stand by that!" He defends, letting his own cheek rest against your hair. "But you can't deny that he is fucking inhumanely gorgeous..."

"Are we talking about Kim Seokjin again?" A dry voice appears somewhere behind, making you jump and pause your laughter. A glance over your shoulder reveals none other than Jungkook, arms crossed and a sullen vibe emanating from the way his thick brows furrow so deeply they almost connect. Come to think of it, he always seems to be moody where Seokjin is involved. Huh.

"Why? Are you gonna try and tell me that he's not that buff again?" Jimin scoffed, stiffening ever so slightly beside you and refusing to even glance in Jungkook's direction.

"No, I just don't see why we have to always talk about him." Jungkook puffs, blowing his bangs out of his eyes bitterly. "Besides, I just saw him outside the kitchen and his body isn't that good. I'd hardly say 'sculpted'."

Huh? Seokjin? Outside the kitchen...

Neither of the boys seem to share your bewilderment, launching into a spat heavy with a tension that had been building long before. "And what would you know, anyway?"

"I go to the gym!" Jungkook flexes his arm, earning a scoff from Jimin to which he frowns. "Look!"

"You saw Seokjin where?"  You breathe, butting into the squabble and drawing two startled looks when you jolt to your feet, wiping off the back of your leggings.

"O-outside the kitchen...why? I assumed he was waiting for you..." Jungkook is wide eyed, blinking with a lack of understanding considering his previous absence. Jimin has already wrapped his hand around your wrist to pin you in place.

"He is?" You nibble your lip.

You imagine him leaning up against the wall outside the kitchen, probably looking at his watch impatiently as he waits for your shift to finish. He never could wait for long so perhaps he'd even already left, storming off to go let his anger out in a game of extremely competitive table tennis with a retired CEO in the lounge.

But there's a chance he is still there and that he was waiting for you and even though every fibre of your being screams that it is a bad idea, you just want to see if it was true. If he really was thinking about you. If you'd misjudged him after all and a part of him did care.

"Y/N this is a bad idea." You're already bounding down the steps when Jimin tugs you back to offer a slice of reality. "Remember what we just talked about? Not catching feelings." He draws the last word out and wiggles his eyebrows which only makes Jungkook even more confused.

"It'll be fine Jimin," You brush him off though it sounds a little like you are pleading with him. Carefully dislodging your wrist from his grip, you plaster a reassuring smile to you face that doesn't seem to appease his anxious foot tapping. "I won't let him get inside my head. I'm not confused anymore, see?"

"Fine. Knock yourself out." Jimin steps back, gesturing for you to go forth which you do far too quickly for his liking, flashing him a thumbs up before turning your back and disappearing down the steps before he can protest any further. "But promise to call me immediately if you get horny feelings again!"

The way your heart thumps in your chest as you speed walk around the building has to be unhealthy.

You slow down as you get closer to the corner that obscures the back of the restaurant from view, taking cover behind a bush pruned into a perfect ball.

There he is.

Your breath hitches. It's almost as if your brain tricked you into believing he was a figment of your imagination these past few days without him. Like you made the whole thing up. But no, here he is and he's breathing and he has blood pumping through him just like you and he's so real that it hits you like a freight train.

For the first time this evening, the sun pokes it's head out from behind the clouds, a small crack opening up in the sky that sends a stream of soft golden light cascading across him. And almost as if in unison, it feels like the light shines right through the Seokjin shaped cracks in your heart as you watch his eyes flutter shut at the kiss of warmth and his arms reach above his head to lean into the light in a leisurely stretch.

It almost feels like you are seeing him for the first time all over again.

If Seokjin didn't let out a sigh of impatience in exactly the way you imagined he would, shaking his head and throwing his hands into the pockets of his gym shorts in defeat, you would have been content to just watch from the sidelines like you promised Jimin you would.

Perhaps you wouldn't have rushed out from behind your camouflage of foliage, sending a garden gnome flying in a crash of broken china in your haste. And even more importantly, perhaps you wouldn't have found yourself calling out for him to stop.

"Seokjin!" Your voice sounds small but the word flies out before you can slap your hand over your mouth to keep it in. It's familiar on your tongue, like coming back home after a long trip, and you savour the taste.

"Y/N?"

Seokjin stills at the crunch of your shoes approaching him tentatively, shoulders squared as if weighing up his options - fight or flight? - and just as you think you are mistaken and he didn't want to see you after all, he's taking flight - straight towards you and drawing you into his arms in an uncomfortably tight bear hug.

His chest hits yours with a force that makes you literally lose your breath, hairs on your arms rising as you feel his warmth encapsulate you completely like a comforting blanket.

The sudden embrace stuns you to a shocked silence, arms pressed to your sides stiffly as he buries his nose in your hair and takes a deep inhale. Is Kim Seokjin smelling your hair?

You have to admit the scent of his cologne makes you giddy, a little woodier around the edges than you remember it to be which you put down to the still slightly sticky and sweaty gym clothes hugging his torso. Under normal circumstances you would've been grossed out but the heightened thump of your heart in your ears acts as an ample distraction.

For a moment you forget about Paradise and the argument and the door to the kitchen beside you that could open at any moment. It's just you and him again, and you're melting.

You could stay like this forever, if his grip didn't tighten considerably, as if he was trying to squeeze the breath straight out of you and hold that too, and you are pushing his chest away from your body with a cough. "Jin — can't breathe!"

Seokjin lets you go — reluctantly, settling for holding you at arms length instead — and you are sure you spot his neck flush at the nickname you used accidentally.

"Sorry." His gaze dips to your feet and then drags all the way back to your puzzled eyes as if he is taking all of you in, like you had changed since he last saw you or something as if that wasn't just three days before. A lazy smile appears on his face. "Missed you, that's all."

His words are slightly breathless and punctuated by a shake of his head as if he can't quite believe he's saying them either and the honesty is so unlike him it makes your chest ache.

"Then why didn't you call?" There's a snipe in your words that seems to jolt him out of his sunny disposition, mouth downturning into a frown, arms dropping from your shoulders and going limp at his sides instead as if he is coming to his senses. "You're the one that's been avoiding me."

His shoulders droop awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"It just didn't make sense why you would stop talking to me—."

"No, not for avoiding you — well I am sorry for that," He explains. "I mean for the things I said. The other night."

You furrow your brows, stunned. "Why?"

"It was mean and...truthfully I couldn't face you because of it." He drags a hand down his face and presses his back to the wall in defeat, giving you a perfect view of the regret that makes his jaw tighten.

With a sigh you sidle up next to him, careful to leave enough space between you so that your arms don't touch. Deja vu masks the ordeal and you realise it's all too similar to the first time you met in this very spot, watching the very same plaza except today it's still bustling with life beneath the orange glow of the setting sun and you have to squint to see it clearly.

You clear your throat. "I thought it was because of the things I said. About us."

"No!" His exclamation is a little too quick, too loud, and he looks embarrassed, following it up with a gruff "Don't be stupid."

"Well don't worry. While you've been avoiding me I've had plenty of time to think it over and you were right after all."

His nose scrunches, a habit of his you've noticed before that gives him an air of innocence. "I was?"

"Yeah, I think I must have had a few too many glasses of champagne at dinner that night." Your laugh is hoarse with the effort it takes to force it past your lips. "I'm happy with our agreement how it is. You don't need to worry about me going all crazy on you again."

"That's...good." His adam's apple bobs. He seems unconvinced by his own words. "Good. I'm glad."

Then he smiles and your heart throbs so hard it could explode so you just smile back and join in with his nervous laughter.

"So we're okay?"

"We're okay."

There's nothing left to say; now it's clear where you both stand. So why is Seokjin opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish?

"Is that all you came here to talk about?"

His laughter stops, and then he coughs and puffs out his chest, returning somewhat to the cocky Seokjin you are used to.

"Actually I was thinking...it's getting kind of late. It would be bad mannered of me to let you walk home alone."

"Why? I always walk home alone?" Seokjin never seemed to possess the worry you can see in eyes before when he dropped you off outside the club and watched you disappear into the night multiple times a week.

"For protection. Just in case." He rolls his eyes, as if it should have been obvious.

"It's okay, I've got pepper spray in my bag plus it's like 5 PM—"

"No. Protection for me." He suddenly pleads. "My mind will start to wander if I go back to my apartment alone again."

Seokjin seems so serious you know you can't reject him now without your conscience taking a beating, so you choose to say nothing at all. You want to be there for him, but at the same time you know you're only going to get hurt. The toe of your shoe draws circles in the dirt. "I don't know what to say."

"How about you don't say anything and just come to my place instead?" Your neck snaps up. He's never invited you to his place before. It always seemed like an inappropriate boundary to cross considering you are hardly even friends let alone lovers. "That way we both win."

You smile and he seems relieved. "I guess, just for a little bit."

"Great! Think of this as you doing a favour for me."

"Again?" You roll your eyes teasingly.

"I repay you don't I?" He sees your face fall. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that—"

"I know." You butt in. "It's fine. Really."

A silence falls in the same way it did the night you fought and it seems neither of you know what to say next. Truthfully you're just glad he doesn't seem mad at you, his quiet company a familiarity that tells you nothing has changed between you.

That is until he leans in a little too close and his fingers brush your wrist. You swallow thickly and wait for him to push you away again, when you feel him hesitate.

This is supposed to be the part where he pushes you away again, looking at his hand in disgust or wiping it on the back of his pants like he touched something dirty.

Instead, he reaches between you to link his fingers carefully with yours. It's like you are suddenly filled with helium, at risk of floating away if the feeling of Seokjin's warmth beside you wasn't there holding you to the ground.

"Is this okay?" You ask with wide eyes, nodding down at where his slightly clammy palm smothers your own.

He nods. You melt.

"You were right, the other day." Seokjin squeezes your hand comfortingly. "I need to stop hiding how I really feel."

You've never been to the residents part of the resort before. You never dared. But truthfully, by the time you realise you are walking not floating, you are already half way across the plaza.

Seokjin guides you around the circular fountain spitting water from the mouth of a cherub, carried by the breeze as a fine mist that feels cold and refreshing against your hot cheeks and marches you up a marble staircase to the resident lodge which rises up out of the ground like a beautiful half moon of white brick, stylish balconies decked with jacuzzis, chiffon curtains and a sea of people who fit Seokjin's class perfectly.

A tired looking doorman stands posted to the entrance and despite feeling Seokjin stiffen beside you, he never lets go of your hand. Not even when the doorman gives you a once over, an eyebrow raising at your casual attire.

You wait for Seokjin to force the doorman to sign an oath of secrecy when his eyes widen at your interlinked fingers, except the moment never comes. He simply rubs his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, striding straight past the doorman and holding the gilded door open for you to slip through himself.

You mumble a thanks, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding and hope Seokjin can't feel the way your heart thumps against your rib cage uncontrollably. For what reason you can't quite decide — is it because you're conditioned to fear getting caught with Seokjin or because he doesn't seem to care? 

Seokjin doesn't let go of you until he has to press the elevator button, and it feels ten degrees colder when he does. Your curious eyes take in the perfumed lobby, grand staircase winding upwards as far as the eye can see, lined with a carpet that's intricately embroidered with gold thread. Paintings line the walls which makes the place feel like some sort of museum and you half expect someone to ask you for an entry fee.

Then the elevator's ornate doors open with a ping you thought only existed in movies and Seokjin's hand is back and shuffling you into the elevator at the small of your back, refusing to leave even once you are inside.

The elevator is lined with polished mirrors and you do a double take when you make eye contact with your reflection, nearly reaching out and tapping the glass to check they are real and not the kind you find at a carnival that make everything look distorted. The way Seokjin pulls you closer to his side makes you look like any one of the other normal couples who frequent the resort, if you ignore the way your baggy cardigan contrasts his head to toe designer outfit.

Seokjin's too busy humming along to the classical music which crackles through the speakers overhead to notice the way your gaze travels to him. You know he wants to make you think that none of this affects him like it does you and his unbothered attitude would have worked had you not noticed the way his cheeks have a pinkish tinge, even in the dim yellow glow of the elevator.

The elevator opens, and you follow him down the hall only to find out Seokjin lives in one of the penthouses. You shouldn't be surprised but when he swipes a shiny key card and the lock beeps with a little green light that tells you the door is unlocked, you can't help the way your mouth gapes. Almost as if you were expecting it to flash red instead, denying you entrance and reminding you that you didn't belong in a place like this.

"Aren't you coming inside?" Seokjin has already crossed the threshold, wiping his polished shoes on the gaudy WELCOME mat inside while you stand awkwardly in the hallway, peeping through the crack of open door. You suddenly feel self conscious in your cardigan and leggings, as if you should've dressed up or something.

Seokjin seems to sense your hesitation, fingers finding your wrist with a smile. "You'll catch a cold out there."

He tugs and you don't resist, letting your feet follow him inside. "It's summer. And we're inside, Jin."

"Well how would I live with myself if I took the risk?" The click of the door locking echos from the high ceiling and you swallow thickly knowing there's no going back.

Inside, the suite looks like a luxury hotel room, like every last penny from the royal Mint had lived and died there.

It's open plan, the grand chandelier glimmering in the evening sun casting miniature rainbows across a living room consisting of pristinely white sofas sporting an array of throw cushions that look as though they have never been moved, collecting dust in the same way as the open magazine on the marble coffee table and the empty coffee mug beside it that look like they were placed there to create the illusion of the space being lived in.

Everything feels a little too pristine, a little too perfect like it materialised straight out of a furniture magazine.

The far wall is entirely glass, floor to ceiling windows looking out over a view of the entire resort; with a squint you can just make out the soft lights of the restaurant you know well, reflection shimmering like gold dust on the surface of the undisturbed public pool. An array of caddy boys on the golf courts collect stray balls and haul clubs back into the lodge and beyond that the vibrant gardens, a blur of pink roses and green hedges from where you stand but still a pleasant sight against the evenings pale blue sky.

Seokjin hums to himself as he flicks on all the lights, disappearing around a corner until you can't hear the click clack of his shoes against the tile anymore. You don't know if you are supposed to stay with knees knocking in the living room or if he was expecting you to follow him; but you presume the latter is true when his voice rings out into the room, jolting you from your shameless study of his living space.

"Have you eaten?" You shake your head in a silent no even though he can't see it, somehow managing to get your legs to carry you beneath a decorative arch and into the kitchen where Seokjin stands with his head ducked into a fancy looking fridge - even the most basic of appliances seem high tech, a touch pad visible on the front for what purpose you don't want to even ask. "I don't know about you but I'm famished."

"I was on my way to find something to eat when we — when you saw me, actually." The correction is quick but it makes your stomach feel funny. Since when did it start to feel normal to refer to you and Seokjin as a "we", as if you are anything but his accessory?

"Perfect." He emerges from the fridge with an armful of tupperware boxes balanced beneath his chin, foot kicking the door shut before he dumps the entire load onto the marble kitchen island that separates you from him.

"How about you stay for dinner?" He flashes you a small smile, corner of his mouth blowing the bangs out of his eyes, and your heart practically skips a beat.

It's just a formality surely, the polite thing to do. The Seokjin you knew was usually eager to get you out of his hair.

He is looking at you expectantly, your throat suddenly dry as you try to muster a response, an excuse. The word that immediately crosses your mind is no. This is dangerous and you know it. But then the bite in your stomach is back and despite knowing an I shouldn't be here in the first place would have been more appropriate, your lips betray you with a simple, "Yes." And the way that Seokjin's face lights up in surprise has every regret falling away as you relish in the knowledge that he is actually happy to have you.

"I thought I would have to bargain with you. You're usually stubborn with me." Shiny bar stools sit tucked beneath the little kitchen bar set up beside him, a few expensive looking champagne bottles littered across the surface. He pats one of the plush cushions in a gesture for you to sit which you graciously do, even as you scoff at his words and silently wonder why someone who lives alone needs so many seats.

"Because you're usually trying to get me to do something ridiculous." You chide. "And besides, I'm hungry."

"So you're just using me for my cooking skills, huh? I didn't think you were that kind of girl." Seokjin eyes you cheekily, hands fiddling with the dials on the stove with a pout. "How do you turn this thing on?"

You let out a sigh of mock despair, joining him at the counter and turning the knob until you hear a familiar click as the gas ignites, basking the kitchen in a blue glow. "If your 'skills' end with me getting food poisoning I'll never forgive you Kim Seokjin".

"I think I can handle a simple pasta dish," He retorts, but not before sending a pot from the utensil rack crashing to the ground with a clatter. "Maybe I spoke too soon." He picks up the appliance, holding it out to you sheepishly, a flush caressing his cheeks now.

You click your tongue but in no way maliciously, instinctively filling the pot with water and pulling open a few drawers in search of some other equipment. "Where do you keep the spoons?"

"Top drawer." You hear him call, settling himself into the askew stool you previously occupied, kicking his feet up onto the opposite stool and making you internally wince when the soles of his shoes settle on the white leather cushion. "Can I ask you something?"

Something in his voice changes, a seriousness that you aren't used to with him. In fact the only time you'd ever heard it was last week on the lake, when he admitted he felt like an outsider at Paradise.

You dump the pasta and lean against the counter to face him. "Sure."

"Do you think I'm an asshole?" He asks quietly.

You pause. "Sometimes." Eyes narrowed, you let out a sigh. "Why?"

"I'm sorry." Seokjin sounds small, and he wrings his hands together awkwardly. "For making you do all this for me, and then acting like a douche."

You push his feet off the stool and take a seat opposite him. Your mouth is dry, so you say nothing. He looks at you expectantly. Like he's hoping his apology will make up for the stinging hurt that still lingers in your chest every time you remember the look of shame in his eyes when he almost got caught talking to you at the gates. You flash him a sad smile, and he sighs when he realises it's not enough.

"God, I'm so fucking lame. What normal guy has to get a girl to pretend to be his fucking fiance?"

"What normal girl agrees to pretend? If you're lame then I'm just as bad." You chuckle, somewhat bitterly. "If you're so embarrassed by me, why don't you just tell your family? Then you won't have to worry someone will find out who I really am."

There's a sharpness to your words that makes Seokjin wince.

"It's not that I'm embarrassed of you! I'm...embarrassed of me."  Seokjin rushes. "I just can't tell them. It would break them if they knew we've been lying."

Oh. So all this time he wasn't afraid someone would find out your real identity...he was just worried about disappointing his family?

"I always knew I was going to marry some nice girl from upstate and take over Paradise one day," He continues. "But now it's actually happening and I'm realizing I'm not cut out for this."

His head falls into his palms, forehead creased. You can tell this has been weighing on his mind for a while, and part of you feels thrilled that he trusts you enough to confide in you.

"I want to be the man they want me to be but I don't know how much longer I can pretend."

You slide your hand over the counter and cover his. He looks up, surprised, when you give it a comforting squeeze.

"I think you're just scared." You whisper. "I know you Seokjin, and you'll be an incredible CEO."

He puffs out his chest. "Pfft, I'm not scared."

"You're scared you won't be as good of an owner as your dad." You say. "And you're scared that you won't love the girl who you marry like you're supposed to."

Seokjin falls quiet, like what you said hit a nerve. He frowns. "I know what it's like to love someone. And those other girls -- the ones my parent's tried to set me up with -- they were nice and all but... I didn't feel it with any of them."

"You can't force love." You offer him a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes it just pops up in the strangest of places. It just happens."

"You're right." He smiles back, and shakes his shoulders like a weight has been lifted. His eyes soften fondly. "Hey. How do you always seem to know exactly what to say?"

"One of my many talents,"You laugh as you instinctively start to dish up your meal. That's what working in a kitchen does to you. "Including making incredible pasta."

The smell of carbonara wafts through the kitchen, and he rubs his stomach gratefully.

"God I love you." Seokjin says breathily, threading his hands through his hair and looking at you in wonder.

"What?" You go slack, the metal spoon between your fingers hitting the ground with a tinny crash.

Seokjin blinks twice before rushing to cover up his mistake. "You know what I mean."

You do know. But a part of you wishes that you didn't know, that you could pretend that the words that spilled from Seokjin's lips were real and true and meant something.

Not that it matters anyway. You aren't in love. You are just pretending to be. So why does it feel like a ton of bricks smushed your heart when you realise this was probably the only time you would ever hear him say those words, even if he didn't mean them how you wished he would?

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before it can start to wobble and bend to your knees to retrieve the spoon. Seokjin is already ahead of you, leaping out of his chair to grasp the metal at the exact same time.

A gasp passes your lips when his hand covers yours tightly, the contact accidental but enough to send tingles up your spine like it always does. Except this time, it seems he feels it too, because when you dare to look up he is staring at your almost interlocked hands in wonder.

"Is now a bad time to repay one of your favours?" His voice is hoarse.

"What—"

Seokjin's fingers hook beneath your chin, tilting your head towards him so that he can press his lips against yours in a tentative kiss, swallowing your words in transit.

The kiss is slow and languid, the way he slots his plump bottom lip between yours making you melt instantly. His cheeks are warm and soft in your hands as you cup them, the action feeling just as natural as the warmth blossoming in your chest when Seokjin moves his mouth in time with your own with an impossible tenderness.

He sighs into your mouth like he'd been waiting forever to do this, and you feel a similar satisfaction, finally able to curb the craving for him that has been aching inside you since your last encounter when he left you standing alone on the veranda.

Seokjin's fingers trace up your arms tentatively, hairs raising wherever they touch, before tangling them in the hair at the base of your neck and pulling you ever deeper into the kiss, not just with pure desire like you were used to but with a yearning to hold you closer. For the first time you let yourself succumb to your senses, protective guard over your heart shattering as you get lost in the scent of his woody cologne and the roughness of his simultaneously pillowy lips.

By the time he pulls back you are already breathless and he is too, lips parted slightly, breath tickling your nose.

"Sorry." The curve of his lips tells you he didn't mean it. He wanted to kiss you. You melt. "'S cause I missed you, that's all"

"C'mere." With a breathy laugh you pull him closer to you again by the collar, mouths crashing together in a tangle of teeth and tongue this time that makes you burn with a hunger to commit every caress of his lips to memory, blood running hot as he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth like he wants to devour you right then and there. "I want you."

His hands search your body making you shudder, swell of your chest pressed to his as he slips his burning hot palms beneath your thighs to hoist you onto the kitchen island, uncaring when the spice rack rattles precariously. His lips never leave yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth in a way that has you panting for more, suddenly desperate to feel his warmth against you without the damn barrier of your leggings between you.

"Wanna take you right here so bad." Seokjin breaks away, eyes glazed over and slipping from your swollen lips momentarily to take in your quivering body, slotting himself between your welcoming legs. "God, you drive me crazy."

His hair tickles your cheek when he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck as if accepting defeat, his self control hanging by a thread in the same way as yours.

"Then take me." It's hushed whisper but it makes Seokjin groan, his hands rubbing flat circles into the tops of your thighs but never getting quite close enough to the ache that pulses between your legs, as though he can't trust himself.

"Don't want you to do something you'll regret." Seokjin sounds pained as he nips at your neck, lips sucking marks into the flesh obscenely while his tongue soothes the burn, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

"I could never regret you." You stammer between quiet whimpers when his teeth attack the sensitive spot behind your ear and in that moment you believe every word. "I promise."

Seokjin leaves one last wet kiss to your jaw. "Open your eyes. Look at me." His hands tremble when they take your face between them and hold your already damp forehead against his. You obey, biting your lip when his own lustful eyes stare into yours with a gentleness. "Promise. You want this — me?"

Your heart throbs. "I promise."

"Then how could I refuse?" With a peck to your lips Seokjin hoists  you over his shoulder like you are weightless, blood rushing to your head as you come face to face with his butt.

"Let me down!" You laughed as he carries you through the apartment, pounding your fists against his back playfully. He only tightens his grip, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you quieting down quickly. "Ow!"

"Don't pretend you didn't like it." His voice is muffled as he lets you down but you can still hear his smirk before he even comes into view. Your back lands on top of a plush mattress, silken sheets a welcome cold against your skin which still burns from Seokjin's touch. You manage to glance around the room briefly, taking in the elegant matching silk drapes and the luxe gold trimmed furniture which makes it feel like a hotel room you probably could not afford.

But then Seokjin is hovering over you again and the way his eyes darken as they rake across your body captures all your attention.

"I wouldn't mind if you did it again." You hum coyly, enjoying the way his pupils dilate as he swallows a groan. Seokjin grips your ankles and lands another slap to the flesh of your ass that has you panting and choking on your own smirk.

"Such a slut, hm?" Your knees fall apart instinctively as he leans over your body, leaving a few lingering kisses across the expanse of your chest that peeks out of the top of your tank top, all while your fingers find the hem of his gym t-shirt. "God I love your ass."

"I'll fuck it myself if you don't hurry up." The way your hips buck up give away your impatience, never quite meeting the painfully visible tent in his crotch and gaining the friction you so desperately search for. Your panties are soaked through and clinging uncomfortably to your dripping folds by now, the heat between your legs pulsing unbearably.

Seokjin chokes at your threat, eyes rolling back as he pictures the image you painted. "F-fuck, I'd love to but maybe another time." Your lithe fingers manage to get his shirt over his shoulders, throwing the garment somewhere behind him and sucking in a gasp when you take in Seokjin's naked torso beneath the warm glow of his bedside lamp, toned and slightly damp with anticipation. "Gotta take care of this cunt first, hm?"

His palm cups your mound obscenely through your leggings and you whine at the first contact you'd received all night, eager to have him touch you without the barrier of your clothing. "P-please." The way you twist your hips needily, trying to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm makes him laugh lightly.

"Sit back, get comfy." He helps you slide up the bed, arranging a selection of tasseled throw cushions behind your head until he's satisfied you are adequately supported, kneeling between your legs to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and press a prolonged peck to your parted lips. "Want this to be good for you."

"It's always good for me." You assure, fingers trailing fleetingly down his chest and feeling him tense above you at the ticklish contact. Seokjin makes quick work of your top, leaving you quickly in just your bra which you graciously save him the trouble of undoing by snapping the clasp open yourself.

The way he gazes in awe at your bare chest makes you self conscious, hands coming to cover the flush that caresses your face until he rolls one of your hardened nipples and lets out a sigh in unison with your own when your hands fall away, unable to focus on anything other than the tingle of Seokjin's touch and your own shallow pants.

"You're so pretty." His words make your chest blossom with warmth and you arch into his touch, air cold against your hard buds until Seokjin takes one of them into the heat of his mouth and reduces you to a gasping mess beneath him.

As soon as he comes up for air you manage to wriggle your hands between your flush bodies, latching on to the waistband of his gym shorts and sliding them down his thighs along with his boxers as soon as you catch his nod of confirmation.

His cock springs free, hard and already leaking against his stomach. Seokjin hisses at the cold air against his length. You wrap your hand around his girth, lidded gaze watching the way his face twists with a pleasurable agony with each flick of your wrist. He's hot and heavy in your palm, impossibly hard and your entrance clenches when his cock pulses against your palm, forcing him to swallow a moan and stop his hips from thrusting into your hand. You are suddenly hyper aware of how empty you are, another bout of lust pooling in your stomach as you anticipate how good he would fill you up, length enough to stretch you out perfectly.

When your palm twists around the angry reddened tip he just about looses his mind, falling forward to grip your shoulder with a bruising grip, uncaring when a few choked groans spill into your ear. You take pride in the way he falls apart so easily until his large palm covers yours and halts your ministrations all together.

"Stop, fuck—" He squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a hiss as he tries to regain his control, length twitching and drooling against your bare stomach. "Nearly came, shit." Seokjin's chest heaves with laboured breaths, cheeks flushed as he grips the base of his length firmly.

"I'm that good huh?" The teasing tone makes his eyes snap up, the scarlet tint to his cheeks deepening.

"No — I mean yes — but mostly I've been imagining this for a while." He seems slightly sheepish and you find it cute, feeling a little pang in your heart when his nose scrunches with shyness at his confession. "Got too worked up too fast."

"Guess you don't want me to suck you off for a bit, then?" You ask almost hopefully, your heat growing ever wetter at the thought of his girth fucking your throat mercilessly.

"There's plenty of time for that, princess." The glint in his eye is the same as the one he had that day in the locker rooms, except this time you trust his words knowing that nothing could stop you coming back for more.

"Guess I'll have to save my skills for another day, then." Seokjin chuckles at the pout that graces your lips, swatting your hand away before it could stroke his length again. "Unless..."

"Brat." The shake of his head is affectionate.

"Don't pretend you don't like it." You echoe his earlier words and he rolls his eyes to your amusement.

"Touché."

He holds your gaze for a little too long, the way his eyes soften at the edges and his lips part cutely too intimate for you to deal with in the moment so you focus on the neglected ache between your legs instead.

You interrupt the moment before you let a piece of your heart flutter straight into his hands. "Hurry up and get inside me, idiot!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Seokjin raises his hands defensively before he shuffles down the bed, eye level with your crotch.

You can't help the way you arch off the bed as he peels away your leggings, whining shamelessly when your swollen folds finally hit the air.

Soon enough you feel Seokjin's hot breath hovering over your slit, making your clit pulse even more desperately if that were possible. Before he could devour your heat like you wanted him to, you are reminded of his own self control. "'S not fair, is it?" You slur, head spinning with lust as he spreads your lips with his fingers, taking you in completely.

"Not going to eat you out this time, don't worry," The sight of him looking up at you with pleading eyes from between your legs, lips inches away from your clit, is enough to have the coil in your stomach tightening, sure you could cum just from the visual alone. "Just a taste?"

You nod, too breathless to speak, and he runs a flat stripe up your dripping slit, the contact enough to make your legs shake and your head fall back against the cushions. He places a single kiss to your clit which makes you quiver before he climbs back up so you are eye level. "Can't get enough of your pussy," Your breath mingles, his lips glistening with your arousal just inches from yours. "Could taste you forever."

"You can." You whisper.

His tongue traces your bottom lip languidly. You can taste yourself just barely on his lips. "I don't deserve you."

Seokjin supports himself on his forearms, hovering over your body and taking his cock in his palm to line it up with your entrance.

"Ready?" He scans your face for any concerns, any suggestion that you are having second thoughts. Even your small smile and the shameless twists of your hips as you tried to impale yourself on his cock wasn't enough to appease him, apparently. "Promise?"

The tenderness in his voice makes you lose your breath in a mixture of shock and warmth. This has to be a dream. "Promise."

Seokjin's lidded eyes light up and he finds your hand where it tugs on the sheets beside your bodies and carefully interlinks your fingers. The callouses on his fingers, the grooves of his palm and how it slots perfectly into yours is starting to feel familiar. You don't have time to dwell on whether the action was supposed to feel as romantic as it did before he's pushing the tip of his cock against your entrance which clenches with every inch until he bottoms out with a guttural groan of his own.

The slide is slow and languorous, allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock drag against your walls, the stretch burning a little as you tried to accommodate his girth.

"So fucking wet for me, huh?" It's true; you can feel your arousal dripping down your ass, his hips meeting yours with an audible squelch that was testament of his affect on you. You feel his cock twitch inside you, his nose scrunching as he resists slamming into you straight away to allow you to adjust. Instead he focuses on rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs into your hips, taking in your bare form with a fascination. "So fucking pretty underneath me like this."

"All for you." You manage to stutter between hard pants as he snaps his hips back until just the head of his cock remains at your entrance and you whine with the impossible emptiness. "I'm all yours."

"Promise me." It comes out as a command but it's tainted with a softness that makes your cheeks burn with more than just lust.

"I promise. I'm all yours."

That's all it takes to have him slamming back into you, hips meeting yours repeatedly with a loud slap which is almost drowned out by the soft moans that spill from his lips into the crook of your neck. He's more vocal than you were expecting and it drives you crazy.

"Fuck, I'm close." His breath hitches at your words, tongue snaking out to wet his lips as he shudders closer to his high. With a pained expression he pauses mid thrust, head barely inside you as he searches your face for answers with desperate eyes. "Where can I—"

"Inside me." You buck your hips, whimpering when he slides back into you to the hilt as if he can't help it. "Wanna feel you fill me up."

"Shit, okay." He stutters as your fingers move the bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, his neck and shoulders glistening slightly in the deep glow of the room. "God, you're so tight."

By now you are clenching around him wildly, the heat between your legs getting hotter with every drag of his cock against your velvety walls. With his next thrust he hits your sweet spot deliciously, the mewl that leaves you alerting him of the fact and he watches with a dark amusement as your eyes roll back and you lose yourself to the feeling.

"Mmf — g-gonna cum." Seokjin's thumb rubs circles into your throbbing clit in time with his thrusts and the pressure is enough to have you falling over the edge, vision fading to black as Seokjin fucks you through your high.

"That's it, cum for me baby," He coaxes, thrusts turning sloppy as you feel him release inside you, the feeling of him coating your now sensitive walls almost too much. "S-shit."

You don't realise your eyes are squeezed shut until Seokjin's palm cups your chin, his face a picture of pure bliss when your lashes finally flutter open. There's barely any distance between your noses, his breath lightly tickling your parted lips and you're sure he can hear your heart thumping against your rib cage, loud in your ears as he closes the distance between you in a lazy kiss that feels indescribably intimate with him softening inside you.

"I don't deserve you." He says again, voice croaky this time. "You could do better than me."

"Shut up," His cheek presses to your chest, warm against your clammy skin. "Don't be silly."

"There's something I need to tell you..." He begins, cut off when you sit upright abruptly, eyes wide. "It's nothing bad. Well, it might be depends on how you respond. It's just that day on the lake, when I saw how Taehyung looked at you, and when I thought I lost you, it made me realise that I'm—"

"No, not that." You begin feeling around for your underwear. "I think the pasta boiled over!"

"Oh shit!" He joins your search for clothes, rolling onto his back beside you, though you don't miss the frown that appeared on his face. "Guess I can wait a little longer."

#bts smut #bts #seokjin smut #ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #seokjin fluff #seokjin imagine #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #btswriterscollective #btsguild #kwordsmiths #bangtanarmynet #thebtsclub #my writing #fic: better with you

[kimseoksjin]

namgi | 35k | fluff + angst

“How is it possible that I’m falling for Yoongi-hyung again after more than five years?” Namjoon buries his head in his hands, distressed.

Taehyung hums from next to him as he takes a sip of his soda.

“Maybe you never were over him,” Taehyung says, in a tone that sounds way too casual for what just left his mouth.

(or: namjoon and yoongi have known each other for ten years)

read it here!

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #bangtanwriters-net #kwriterskollection #kwordsmiths #kreativewritersnet #namgi #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fics #bangtan #bts #namjoon #yoongi #rm #suga #mystuff #myfics #another fic babie! an entire... 35k babie....... #this is finished already; i'll be updating every sunday!

[hhjs]

dangerous liaisons.

♡ summary — Some part of you, the childish part, the stubborn part, when his calm gaze found yours from across a sea of unfamiliar faces, from trolleys and cereal aisles, even with the lies and deceit and heartbreak, relief washed over his strained expression in an instant, as to convey a wordless I thought I almost lost you, wanted it to mean something. Just this once.

wherein, caught in a game of hearts, you think you've always understood what it means to love.

♡ pairing — lee know x gender neutral reader.

♡ genre — angst + eventual explicit mature content.

♡ alternatively  — to sum it up..a really unconventional take on rich kid tropes. sort of enemies to lovers???

♡ type — series.

♡ note — please comment or send me asks off anon if you want to be added to the tag list!!! also please read the prologue or this chapter won’t make sense.

♡ based on — les liaisons dangereuses by pierre choderlos de laclos and shakespeare's the taming of the shrew and the song ‘heroes’ by david bowie

♡ music inspiration (I recommend you listen to heighten the reading experience)   ➝  paris concerto viii in D minor rn 127: III Allegro, dangerous liasons by fara effect.

chapters will be added on a spontaneous schedule (bst) 💖

Prologue. 1.

The most difficult part of growing up is coming to realise the separation between one's parent and their status of being not just a parent, but a faulty person.

Minho used to have this glorified image of his father, a perfect man with a perfect job and a perfect family. In his head, just like any other child's, his father was incapable of doing wrong. He was this metahuman man who pinned his kiddish drawings to the fridge and as he grew older, provided him with a necessary doze of tough love, pushed him beyond his limits to become the man he was when he was Minho's age. So even if the expense was taking on absurd amount of stress, the young man concluded that it was all worth it if he could live up to his superhero's expectations.

Until one day...his whole world had come crashing down.

But see, it’s all good. Lee Minho has the idea of balance embedded into every fibre of his being. In other words, he is particularly vengeful when he wills himself to be. Especially in stances he grew to let his anger get the best of him. And really...in the long run, this very temperament of his was practically engineered to be the root of his demise.

Not once did it fail to reduce him to someone who failed to apply reason when it was most necessary. What was it — an awful argument with his father about how he'd simply never amount to anything or that he'd found the only person he'd looked up to was conforming to the whims of adultery for a girl just a few years older than his son? Or rather, it was just those little frustrations accumulating into an enormous ball of rage inside his belly, he was sure he'd simply explode at the seams had it not come to this.

A part of Minho knew that the niggling inside his chest upon hearing half assed excuses his father provided for his absence at the anniversary party was not a resultant of needless doubts. And yet, when he turned the winery's knob, he'd hoped to God that it would be locked from the outside, that he could go back and conclude the strange cluttering as something simply misheard.

But the lock turned effortlessly. And there was no difficulty to realise what the detestable sight entailed.

Who was this very man to lecture Minho on morality and deservedness? If he didn’t know any better, he’d have swung right at that bastard then and there.

But Minho’s resolve lingered.

He hadn't had the heart to upset his mum. Not when her toothy smile made a rare appearance as a consequence of them finally getting along, even if they both simply were trying to make her happy.

Minho's mother had always been of that design. Even when he was little, he sensed that he always needed to protect her. Her heart was too big. And the world was too harsh.

What was worse, therefore, was the possibility that she'd known all along, suppressed her desperations for her son's sake, for the life he has, for everything he aspires to be. How ironic would it be if he was the cause of her hurt when he had desired to prevent it all along?

Whatever it was, however it was, he was going to give her back everything she'd lost.

And what better way was to seek vengeance than to injure what matters to them the most?

"What? You don't think I'll do it?"

Minho pressed his palm against the fogged up glass. It felt cool under his skin, just a haze of red where the party goers' faces appeared only to be a fuzzy image. No, that wouldn't do it. A layer of perspiration gathered on his digits as he swiped his line of vision clean.

And there you were, awkwardly holding up a glass to your lips to hide a goofy smile whilst the homewrecker in question, wrapped her lengthy arm around your shoulder. He was in luck, he mused, because he already knew you were siblings.

It was going to be a piece of cake.

"I don't know—" Han sighed, pegging that this was just one of those funny things Minho said when he lost his temper. Completely unbeknownst to the latter being dead fucking serious, in faint disinterest for the chat, he examined a strange looking liquid he was harbouring in his wine glass, not red enough. Too much water. "Will you?" It sounded like a challenge to Minho, an extension of his previous scoff followed by Minho unveiling his plan. Which was rather simple and not to mention, bordering along stereotypical nonsense, he was going to break your heart. He was going to take something from her just as she had from him. An eye for an eye. Tit for tat. Measure for measure. You name it.

There was not a speck of doubt in his mind pertaining to the department of success.

When your squinted gaze met his elevated one, just for a second, as if to check if Minho was really staring, thoroughly amused, he chuckled.

"With pleasure."

#kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #lee know smut #minho smut #minho x reader #minho fluff #minho angst #minho fanfic #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids fanfic #skz fluff #skz angst #skz x reader

[jkeuphoriadreamland]

impatient || jjk

❥ Pairing: Babyboy!jungkook Sub!jungkook x F reader ❥ Genre: smut 18+M ❥ Warnings: bratty kook, edging, orgasm denial, cock ring, dom!reader, sub!koo, Oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, ejaculation, telling Jungkook what a bad boy he’s been over and over, dirty talk, noona kink, a smidge of fluff, penetration, anal teasing...etc. ❥ A/N: I know I’m on  a mini-hiatus, but I had this, so here. Enjoy.<3 Here’s to Koo being a bad boy and getting punished for it.

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you baby. Perhaps I should remind you who’s in charge.”

Stilling your hand on his cock, Jungkook whines a pathetic cry.  He was so close, right on the edge, and you had stolen it from him once again. His body was tired, achy and sore, but he loved it. It was only right that he felt this way after the way he behaved earlier. He had earned himself this lesson in patience, which was pushing past an hour now, and he was on the verge of losing his mind.

Apparently Jungkook didn’t understand what it meant to be patient because he showed up at your job like a needy puppy wanting your immediate attention. It was the first time he dared be that brave, but it seemed you had denied him too many times over text. He knew better, but the brat in him thought that if he showed up at your work it would magically cause you to give in.  Oh, how severely mistaken he was. The audacity of him coming to your workplace all nonchalant declaring himself your boyfriend to the receptionist, and then walking into your office wearing nothing but gray sweats sent you off the edge. 

You had pulled him into your space, locking the door behind him to ensure that nobody heard  the words that came flying out of your pristine little mouth. Pressing him against the door, you placed your face inches from his own so that only he could hear. “How fucking dare you, baby boy?  Did I not tell you to wait for me at home? And why are you here wearing this?”

Running a hand over his crotch and giving him the most disgusted look you could muster, you wait for his reply. Jungkook shrunk into himself, eyes not daring to make contact with your own. He stuttered an explanation in the tiniest voice.

 “But...I missed you...I thought you didn’t want me.”  

Already overwhelmed with his scent and presence, the moment he speaks breaks you completely. God, he was so adorable and it made you mad. How were you supposed to maintain an angry facade when he made you so weak?

“Is that soo, baby?  Well. I want you to get your ass back home this very instant. When you get there, I want you naked and tied to the chair in the dining room. Is that understood?”

Getting even closer to him, you slipped a hand into his pants and over the erection that was clearly visible before cupping his balls. His throat struggled to suppress a whimper from spilling out as he nodded in obedience.

That was four hours ago. Two hours ago you got home finding him exactly where you had told him, and now kneeling before him you wait until he catches his breath. “See, baby, this is what happens to bad boys. You should always listen to your noona.” Standing up, you turn to walk away leaving Jungkook delirious and confused. Like a good boy he sat there, hands tied behind his back, chest heaving uncontrollably. It took him a while to tie the knots just right, but he wanted to do it perfectly just for you. It was all worth it to see the look on your face when you walked in.

When you come back, Jungkook groans and visibly swallows. “B--but, noona.  I’ve been a good boy, please ...I pr--promise.”  

“You are a good boy, you’re just not a good listener. Be still.”  

His thighs tremble when you come close again. He wants your touch so badly, but the cock-ring in your hand makes him rethink it. Bending down, you grab his chin, forcing his face to look up at you. Moving in slowly you line up his lips with yours until you can feel his breath on your skin.

“If you’re good for me, I promise to let you come, angel.  Can you be good for me? Huh?”

You kiss his nose sweetly before looking down at his pink plump mouth. Unable to hold back you turn your head and take his lips in a soft kiss. You don’t push him too fast, simply dragging your tongue over his teeth.  He doesn’t move, letting you make the choice as to whether or not he should be responsive. You were already upset, and he didn’t want to make it worse.

“So sweet.”  At your compliment, Jungkook’s cheeks blaze with fire. His lips tremble attempting to hold back a smile from the compliment you’ve just given him.  He loved to be praised, and you loved to give him what he wanted. One sweet peck on the lips distracts him enough from what you’re about to do. Kneeling between his legs, you spread them wide, fitting yourself perfectly between them. Your eyes flick back up to see Jungkook staring down the bridge of his nose anxiously.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make it better.”, you tease.

With those words you take his cock in your hands and sink your mouth down his full length, tongue pressing against the thick vein firmly.  He keens forward, stomach contracting in reaction to the way your sweet mouth took him so perfectly. He’s been on the edge for so long, and your tongue feels heavenly on his hot angry cock.  

“Noona, pleaseee..” he begs, voice cracking and knees shaking.

Smirking with half his length inside your mouth, you come up and twirl his wide tip once with your tongue before spitting on it. Dragging the spit down with your fingertip, you guide it to his back opening. When the tip of your finger grazes over his rim, Jungkook rolls his eyes and drops his head back.  He clenches his jaw when you press against him teasingly. 

“So tight, so soft….all mine..”

While he’s distracted with the light touches to his most sensitive areas, you slide the cock-ring down his length quickly.  Jungkook’s eyes shoot open abruptly, head coming up fast to show you how upset he is.

 “No, nooo...please...noona ..please.” He begs you with eyes glistening, teetering on the edge, so close to snapping.

 “Now, now...this will be over as soon as you learn your lesson.”

“...please don’t. I wanna to come so bad.”

“And you will, if you behave.”

Your never went back on a promise and so he complies, silently watching you take his length into your mouth again. Hollowing your cheeks, you bring him all the way to the back of your throat, and then back up again. His hips buck involuntarily, too consumed with the sensations.

Going back down you stop halfway and then pull up to suck on his head salaciously. His tangy pre-cum flows out of his tip, coating your tongue completely. 

Deciding to torture him more, you begin to bob your head up and down quicker, using your lips to pull his velvety flesh tighter into your warm mouth. Your hand wraps around the rest of his length as your jerk him in time with the other ministrations you’re busy flooding his senses with.

Popping your mouth off, you begin to twist and turn his cock in your hand moving faster and faster until Jungkook becomes a broken mess. Tears fall over his precious cheeks as you bring him to the edge once again. Just as he is about to come, you let him go and watch how his cock twitches in orgasm, nothing coming out of the tip.  He cries out in frustration, small swears slipping past his lips, but you ignore them. It wasn’t his fault that he always missed you and that he wanted to be with you.

“I’m sorry, baby. You’re just too cute when you’re frustrated.”  Jungkook’s head drops forward, hanging heavily on his shoulders. His brow is drenched in sweat, and so are his abs. Taking off the ring, you throw it across the room before standing to straddle him on the chair. Shocked, he looks up, a smile tugging at his lips...but he’s too weak to let it show completely. “You want my pussy, baby?  You wanna come in noona’s pussy?”

He whines out, unable to speak.  He’s beyond exhausted, but he wants you so much. Grabbing his hair, you pull his head up only to see his glazed over eyes; you didn't need more. Moving your hips closer, you line him up with your entrance, and then slowly sink down inch my glorious inch.  Unable to take it anymore, his head falls onto your shoulder, pathetic whimpers flowing out of his mouth. “So...good...soo..good...nooona..” he chants over and over.

Rolling your hips, you fill yourself fully of his length, enjoying how his tip hits the deepest parts of your core so perfectly.  Up and down you rock against him, using the back of the chair for leverage. His hands tied behind his back are useless, and he wishes now he hadn’t tied them that way.

“Fuck, baby.  I’m gonna come...ahh...oh...you going to come with me, huh? Yeah?” 

Your words are exactly what he’s been waiting to hear, having held back for so long already.

As soon as he feels your walls clench against his cock, he loses it, load spurting into you...filling you to the brim.  He can’t stop coming, hot ropes of come painting every inch of your walls. He sounds sweet in your ear, vulnerable and all yours.  “Such a good boyyy..”

Grabbing the nape of his neck, you tug at his hair gently as you work him through his orgasm.  Yours was just as good, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Untying his arms, he quickly brings them around to wrap around your body.

“I love you, noona.”

“I love you too, angel.”

---

↳ All works are ©️ jkeuphoriadreamland 

Do not upload, copy, translate, steal any of my works.f

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook sexy #jungkook!au #sub!jungkook smut #jungkook noona #noona kink #btswriterscollective #kwordsmiths #ggukienet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #jungkook oneshot #jungkook nswf #baby boy! jujngkook #jkeuphoriadreamland

[thebiasrekkers]

Star of Fate [Vampire!VIXX]

Plot: The longer you stare into darkness, the more  you realize that something could be staring back. Even more so when that  darkness doesn’t want to be brought into the light and will do anything  to stay that way.

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Vampire!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: OT6 VIXX x OC(s)

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Alcohol | Stranger Danger

Previous Chapters: Prologue, 2, 3

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || Admin L’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2044

AO3 | WP

Tag List: If you would like to be added to this list, just drop us an ask!

AN: Since I’ve been gone a while, I’m gonna try to post once a week with this!

Chapter 4- Hands Up

Don't stop, let's enjoy tonight And forget all the thoughts That come to mind

Laoise shook her head at the scene before her. One of her best friends had been sitting on the floor in just a large tee and underwear as she stubbornly tried to fix the mess she had made. She knew that with her being home so much now, it was going to drive her crazy without something productive to do. So she watched as Lucky spiraled into unfinished projects and hair pulling as she sent out mass emails about jobs. Eventually, the detective decided to put matters into her own hands. 

“Leonora Anita Grant. I want you to take a shower, do your hair and put on some clothes because I’m taking your ass out.”

She gaped up at the taller woman, paint all over her face as she tried for a rebuttal but Laoise wouldn’t have it. It was one thing to try and stay busy while playing the waiting game but another entirely when the whole thing stressed everyone out. 

“I don’t want to hear it. You get your lucky little ass in there or I’m going to throw you into the shower.”

“At least take me to a place where I can get a decent burger!” Lucky relented, laying out her terms of the outing. 

Laoise smiled, dark eyes twinkling as she thought of the perfect counteroffer. Lucky looked up at her with her light colored eyes wide and the most expressive pout on her face. She leaned over to whisper to the woman on the floor as if she was divulging some sort of secret that would get her killed.

“I’ve got one better, sug. There’s a street food vendor near the bar where I wanna take you and they have the best tacos.”

She’d never seen Lucky move that fast in the years that she’d known her. That thought did lead her to reminisce about how long they’d known each other. They met some time ago at a bookstore where she witnessed Lucky nearly kill herself by trying to get some of the top shelf books. When she stepped in to help, she realized what books she was trying to get. They chatted for quite a while about practicing magic and how it related to their world. Of course, she never quite told her why she was so interested in that subject--only that she had experience. 

From there, they got along fairly well. They both came from similar regions, missing their hometowns and even helping each other get settled in their places. Granted, they worked too damn much sometimes but they at least made time to get together every once in a while. Her job as a detective had definitely taken up the majority of her time while Lucky’s had just been demanding for fuck’s sake. However, they both needed the outing more than anyone and as a way to recharge, they were going to get drunk and get tacos. 

Laoise sat on the couch, listening to the shower as she waited. It wouldn’t take too long for her to get ready but it was long enough for her to pull out her phone and answer some late-night emails that were sent out. Mainly things that they needed to touch base on and leads that some of them had for different cases. Her own personal case was something of a challenge for a number of reasons. She was a woman and a person of color in the police force. Some of the gangs that had taken root in the city even laughed at her--until she knocked some out of them. She just wanted answers and those answers led her to that city.

Where she was fortunate to meet her best friend. 

“That must be an important piece of work.”

Laoise blinked and realized that Lucky was standing before her, dressed and ready to go. She had opted for something simple and stylish, braiding her hair back to create one lethal thick whip. When she did her hair like that, Laoise almost cringed as she remembered being hit with it by accident. Since then, she made strides to not have that happen again. She never really did pry into the reasoning why Lucky kept her hair so long but the longer their friendship went on, she found herself wondering more and more. 

“So, are we heading out or can I just get tacos?”

“Get out of the door, missy.” She pointed at the door, laughing along with her. 

The ride wasn’t too far, even on the hog that she owned. The hog was a Can Am Spyder F3, large and in charge just like her. The beast she had saved up for was well worth the price and she treated it just like her baby. Everyone at her precinct knew when she was there because the bike would just barely fit into the motorcycle parking but would be shocked at how quiet the motor was. Plus she also had a look for anyone who would try and rib her about the beast. She ran circles around the cops on cycles and there were no shortage of people who wanted to test her on that. Everyone turned to look at them both when they dismounted, hardly believing that two women just blazed right in there on a motorcycle. Laoise loved that feeling, the disbelief of a tall black woman getting off the bike. It stroked her ego just ever so slightly. 

The Tipsy Dog had some good reviews, even from her Sergent so she decided to give the place a try. She stalked up to the bar while Lucky found them a place to sit. The large building had a lot of seating but the majority of the people were moving around to the beat of the music. She moved around easily around the bodies to deliver the brightly colored drinks to her friend who had chosen to get out of the way of the people. 

Lucky gave her a confused look when she set the drink down in front of her. Laoise laughed at her and gestured for her to take the drink while she tipped her own up to her lips. The fruity flavor exploded in her mouth, washing out the taste of alcohol as it went down. They both laughed when they looked at each other a few sips in. They sat back and talked for the majority of their first drink, preferring to relax. The drinks started to flow and they grew more hyped up as the night went along. By the third drink of equally bright colors, they were starting to feel the buzz from the liquor. 

“Get tired of dancing, ladies?”

Both of their heads whipped up to see a couple of guys smiling at them. Laoise would have laughed along with them if it wasn’t for the fact that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. They had just sat down from a round of dancing and refreshments when the voice was heard. She could feel her buzz being killed with each syllable that was spoken.

Plus, there was something about them that she didn’t quite trust and she always trusted her instincts. 

“Yeah, it’s gettin’ kind of busy out there anyways.” She responded, hoping that they would just lose interest with her short response. 

However, their grins got even wider as Lucky piped up with her small talk as well. She frowned when they offered to get them more drinks, knowing that she didn’t trust anyone else with bringing her a drink in a crowded nightclub like that. There were too many variables in that situation and she wasn’t about to risk a doping incident--not when there were reports of people going missing in the city. 

“Sorry fellas, but we gotta get going. Early morning shift and all.” She announced, grabbing Lucky and hauling her away. When she looked back, however, she saw that the two guys were standing still where they had left them--the grin etched on their faces but their eyes oddly glowing in the light. Whether or not it was the lighting of the club, Laoise wasn’t having it that night. 

Plus she had promised Lucky tacos.

Leaving her motorcycle parked where it was, they headed down to the taco truck. Like she had said, it wasn’t far from where the club was located and it offered a great riverside view for everyone there. They talked animatedly as they stood in line, waiting for their turn to order a scandalous amount of food. Though the edge from meeting the two strangers had mostly worn off, Laoise couldn’t help but to think back at their eyes. She hoped, since moving there, she had left a part of that life behind her but now her suspicions were rising. Reminders of her own personal case started to make more sense the more she thought about it.

Laoise wasn’t quite sure, but going to the club that night seemed more like providence than anything. Even if it was to relax and unwind from all the crap that had been going on. Or possibly, she was still unnerved by what happened. 

“So, you got any positions there at the Station? I’m a hard worker and awesome at clerical or administrative duties.” Lucky grinned at her once they sat down at one of the tables that had been set up for the evening. 

Laoise pursed her lips and didn’t respond to her, making her friend laugh. If only she could hire her to do all that paperwork that she was constantly saddled with.

The wind started to pick up a bit, blowing over the river that they sat next to as it created a semblance of calm. The twinkling lights from the city and the stars reflected all around them;  people passing by were growing fewer and fewer. They sat there, eating and talking until the taco truck’s lights went out. It was a signal that they were closing up shop for the night. Laoise was sober by that time while Lucky still had a couple more hours to go.

“You know, I think I did have some fun tonight.” Lucky commented as they walked back to Laoise’s motorcycle. 

“Well good. That was the point of the night.” She looked down at Lucky who had her hands on her head as she walked. 

The beast in question was in view and it gave Laoise a moment of relief seeing it. She always worried about someone stealing it but not enough to where she couldn’t track them down. She was, after all, a detective at a precinct. 

“You know what would be more exciting?” She gave Lucky the side eye as they approached the bike, knowing that her friend was about to say something off the wall. “If a handsome man came swooping in and was like I’m here to save you.”

“The fuck? Are we in danger?” Laoise laughed as they reached the bike, bending over to pull out a helmet for Lucky. “I don’t have to flash my badge to scare anyone because I am a 6’1” black woman. Who is going to mess with us?”

“Well…only us, I suppose,” came a voice from behind them. 

Both girls turned around to see the two strangers from earlier, eyes still glowing despite the lack of fluorescent lights around them. Laoise immediately walked in front of Lucky and stared them down but before she could say anything, they spoke again. 

“Yes, we know what business you are in and that doesn’t affect us at all. We have a different set of rules than someone of your caliber, Witch.”

“Lucky, run as far and fast as you can and call my station.” 

She started to protest but saw that Laoise was taking off some of the bandages on her hands. The tone in her voice brooked no argument, a stark contrast to earlier. She wasn’t playing any games and knew how she was going to deal with them while Lucky got away. All she heard was the sharp huff and the sound of her friend running away. She grinned at the pair, drawing herself up to her full height. 

“Now that she’s out of the way, how about we have some real fun, boys?”

#thekpopnetwork #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #vixx #vampire!vixx #thebiasrekkers presents #Star of fate #Cha Hakyeon #jung taekwoon #lee jaehwan #Lee Hongbin #kim wonshik #San Sanghyuk

[xiubaek-13]

Lost In Translation - Chapter 37 - Are You Gonna Eat That?

Requested: No Genre: Canon-AU Pairing: ? (at this stage undecided) x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Dirty Talk, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Handjobs, Sex, Noona kink, exhibitionism.

Word Count: 4,701

A/N: I live! Sadly I know a bunch of people who were reading this fic have not found the new blog yet but for those who have, thanks for following me again & I hope you enjoy the next instalment of this series. If you want to help me out, reblog this for me (you don’t have to though, so no pressure there).  

***

“Fuck.” You hear him say under his breath as you leave the room to tell the staff some bullshit story about having a business meeting that cannot be disturbed under any circumstances. You’d shove a chair against the closed door as a safeguard once you returned. You hadn’t been kidding about the catastrophe that would happen if someone walked in. It would be beyond damaging for you. It would be a scandal for him and for the group but you would be kissing your job goodbye. But back to the matter at hand. You thought.

You were going to absolutely wreck him. And he was going to enjoy it.

****

You re-enter the room and close the door behind you, propping a chair against it to block the handle from opening the door should anyone try. They’d seen Chen walk in and whilst they didn’t know who it was, they were well aware that he was someone important and that he was about to have an incredibly important business meeting that could not be disturbed.

As you turn to Chen he cocks his head at the door and asks. “So that chair is going to protect me from a scandal?”

You shake your head. “No, my excellent skills in conversation are protecting you from that. The chair is extra security. As far as anyone outside of this room is concerned, a very important person is having an important - not to be disturbed - meeting.” 

“Clever. So noona, how do we do this?” He asks, his voice tinged with nervousness. The excitement in his eyes betrays him, he wants this but he’s used to being in control of his body, his desires. Today would be a test for him. To see if he could let go and let someone else take charge.

You move back to your seat next to him and brush your hand on his thigh, feeling the muscles tense under your fingertips. “I’m going to choose how I pleasure you and you must follow just one rule.”

“Well that sounds simple enough.” He interjects, sounding more confident than before. The hint of a smirk appears, as though your rule was going to be as simple as pie.

“You can’t cum until I say so.”  You state matter-of-factly.

“Oh.” The smirk disappears as he tries to process exactly what this means for him.

“If you can follow my oh so simple rule then you will get what you wanted for your reward.” You smile, hoping that this will go well so that you can both get what you want. You’d figured that Chen could be a good sub, but you weren’t sure if he’d had much experience as one.

Chen swallows thickly, his eyes darting from you to the table. He finds his resolve after a few moments, his cheekiness returning. “You mean to say I should keep room for dessert?” 

Atta boy. You wink at him and decide not to delay things any further. Sure Chen had the difficult task of not cumming until you allowed, but you also had to hang on to your resolve and not just abandon the punishment in favour of fucking him senseless. 

“You might need to save room but I think I’ll enjoy one more of the desserts on our tasting plate.” You say as you move a mousse towards you. With one hand you begin to eat, the other moving from Chen’s thigh to his crotch. He gasps as you palm him through his jeans, massaging the growing bulge with your hand. He throws his head back in the chair and moans softly.

His legs spread further apart to give you more access to him. You have another mouthful of mousse and lick your lips, savouring the smooth velvet texture and rich chocolate taste. Your hand continues to massage Chen’s growing erection through his jeans as he lets out a ragged breath. It was vital that you maintain a level of indifference to him at this point so that he could work out that if he did as he was told he’d earn your favour but if he didn’t behave...well there was a whole tasting plate for you to indulge in. You pop the button on his jeans and slowly unzip his pants, his bulge tenting his underwear. He lets out a soft moan as you let your hand roam over his underwear, robbing him of the touch he wants most.

“If only the patrons of this restaurant could see how you debase yourself in one of their private rooms Chen. The nation’s singer, beloved by all, whimpering for his tutor to jack him off during the lunch rush.” You chastise as you begin to stroke his length, not yet freeing it from the confines of his underwear. You feel his cock twitch under your hand as you tease him. “Oh but you like that don’t you? You like the idea of a waiter coming through that door and seeing you in the throes of pleasure don’t you? Of some socialite hearing the muffled sounds of you cumming then walking past them as though nothing happened.” Precum formed a dark spot on his underwear as he became more and more aroused at the knowledge that he was not in the safety of a hotel or his dorm, rather he was in public and if anyone caught him like this - he could kiss his career goodbye. 

His breathing became more rapid as he lost himself to the lewd game he was a more than willing participant in. He just needed you to remove that last layer of fabric and let him feel you skin on skin to really let his fantasy peak. He didn’t care if it was only by your hand that he came, he just wanted to cum. 

His hopes were answered when you nudged him to lift his hips so that you could pull his pants and underwear down to his ankles, his cock slapping against his stomach as it was finally freed. You lick your lips at the sight of the man next to you in his state of undress, dishevelled and wanting, needing you to fulfil his fantasy. You slowly spread the precum over his cock, running your fingers up his shaft, around the head, and down again. Chen mewls at the lack of friction before groaning in pleasure as you wrap your fingers around his length and start moving your hand up and down, varying the pressure as you go.

“Such a pretty cock, begging to be touched. Is that good for you Chen?” You ask. 

“Christ yes.” He moans. “Please noona, don’t - don’t fucking stop.” His hips buck a little as you speed up your movements.

“I bet you wanted our waitress to drop to her knees and blow you didn’t you?” You say as you grip him with more force, a desperate whine escaping his lips.

He shakes his head. “N-no. No the roleplay isn’t what I wanted.” He pants.

“No, you want the thrill. You want the adrenaline rush of not knowing if you’ll get away with it or if someone will catch you with your pants down don’t you?” You could feel his breath becoming less even and his body was showing all of the signs of getting close to his climax. Tensing muscles, sweat, involuntary bucking of the hips, unfocused eyes, increased shallow breaths and moans.

He nods. “Yes! Fuck. Yes, I like the thrill of trying to act like nothing is going on when you are getting off with someone and anyone could see. It’s just so fucking hot.”

He starts to thrust into your hand and you know he’s close. You indulge him and let him thrust a couple of times and then remove your hand completely, turning back to your mousse and offering him a mouthful. The bewildered look on his face tells you that he’d already forgotten what he’d agreed to. 

“What the hell?! I was almost there noona!” He half shouts in frustration.

“Shh, I know.” You hold the spoon out to him. “Want some mousse? It’s really good.”

“Then...noona why’d you stop?” He says, ignoring the dessert offer. His face is flushed, a small amount of sweat on his forehead making his hair damp. 

You shrug. “You don’t get to cum until I say so remember?” His cock is still hard and twitching, as though it is aching to be touched again but you know you need to give him a minute before resuming activities otherwise your fun will be over all too quickly. 

He snatches the spoon from your hand and eats as he tries to even his breathing back out. “You,” he points the spoon at you, “are just… I’m not sure evil is the right word but it’s in that ball park.” You chuckle to yourself as he vents his frustrations. This must be a new experience for him, not getting the follow through that he wants when he wants. “This mousse is amazing but I can’t enjoy it because of how frustrated I am.” He pouts. 

“Someone hasn’t been edged before have they?” You laugh. 

“No. Why the hell would you do that? Who would willingly have their orgasm stolen from them at the last second? For what, aching balls? No thanks.” He was getting stroppy already which you found hilarious because he was going to be such an easy convert once he experienced how good it would feel when you finally let him cum. 

You take the spoon out of his hand and set it on the table and get the last of the mousse on your finger and make a show of sucking it off, swirling your tongue to clean the last of the dessert off your digit. “If you behave Chen we won’t be sending you home with blue balls.” You smirk as you move out of your chair and onto the floor, kneeling between his legs. His eyes follow your movements and he swallows, anticipating what is to come next. You run your hands up his thighs and grip his length. “Now where were we?” 

He lets out a strained whine as he watches you bring him back to a place of pleasure, carefully avoiding making him over sensitive. As your hands work you watch him react to changes in speed, grip and your free hand gripping his thigh. He is doing his best to not be too vocal but you can hear the moans and continued requests to not stop.

When his head falls back you lean forward and take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking lightly. He groans loudly in surprise. “Noonaaa.” You remove your mouth and look up at him. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated and he is licking his lips. He looks absolutely wrecked and it is so hot you almost give in. 

“Do you want your noona to suck your cock Chen?” You say as you kitten lick the tip, not breaking eye contact with him. “You want your noona to suck your thick cock and make you fall apart so that everyone out there can hear just how much you love having your noona between your legs?”

You swear his eyes almost roll in the back of his head as you speak. You hadn’t realised that his noona kink was this big. “Noona your mouth feels phenomenal. Please, please give me more of it noona. I swear I’ll let you know when I get close. I’ll be good for you noona.” He’s begging you for his release and you feel a pulse in your core at his words. God you want to fuck him. But not yet.

“Well since you asked noona so nicely.” You smile and remove your hand from his shaft, taking more of him into your mouth, swirling your tongue on the underside of his cock as you take in each inch. You run your nails down his thighs as your mouth and tongue move up and down his length. His moans become higher pitched and more frequent as he starts to really enjoy the feeling of you sucking his cock. You can feel your own arousal building as well, the sounds he’s making are going straight to your core and you remember that if he behaves and lets you edge him properly then not only does he get to cum but you do as well. You wouldn’t have ever said that you were an exhibitionist but knowing that there was a restaurant full of diners enjoying their lunch on the other side of the door was turning you on. Could they hear Chen’s muffled moans of pleasure or his begging for you to not stop?

You hum as you take in as much of him as you can and hold still, massaging his balls with one of your hands. “Holy hell. If you keep this up I’m not going to last much longer noona.” He whines. You have to give him points for letting you know that he was once again reaching his peak.  You bob up and down a couple more times then let him fall from your mouth, giving the tip a little kiss as you sit back on your knees and watch him. His eyes are hooded as he breathes heavily, a slight twinge of pain as he feels his orgasm being held from his once more. He whines to himself and you can tell that he won’t be able to handle too much more without crying in frustration and whilst you feel that he could handle that at the dorm with quality after care, in your current setting that might hinder him from enjoying himself. So you slowly and firmly massage his thighs as you watch him come down from his almost high, his eyes glassy and lips dry. “Noona,” He almost whispers. “Please.” 

The desperation in his voice is what breaks you. You were hoping he’d be up for once more edge but he was at his limit, confirming to you that he definitely was experiencing it for the first time today. “Chen.” You smile up at him. When he doesn’t make eye contact with you you repeat yourself until he does. “Chen, baby, you are doing so well for noona.”

“Really?” He rasps.

“Really.” You say. “You’ve done so well at taking your punishment that noona is going to treat you.” You smile again. “Would you like that Chen?” You remove his shoes and place those and his pants on the floor next to him.

He nods repeatedly. “Please noona. Please.” 

You lean forward again and lick him from base to tip before sucking in the head of his cock again, your hand massaging his balls. He lets out a high pitched breathy whine. “Oh fuck noona.” This time you won’t delay his orgasm, you’ll give him what he’s been increasingly desperate for. You move up and down slowly so as to not rush, allowing him to get back into a rhythm before speeding up and taking him in deeper and deeper until your nose is touching his skin. His leg muscle twitches, letting you know that he’s not too far off his peak. You move faster and faster, the lewd and sloppy sounds of your mouth on his cock filling the room. “Noona you suck cock so well. You’re gonna make me cum soon.” You make eye contact with him as you resume massaging his balls. A wrecked smirk appears on his face as he feels slightly more in control. “So hungry for my cock noona. Look at you, you can’t get enough and fucking hell noona, you look so hot with your mouth wrapped around my cock.” You keep up your pace and let him run his mouth as he swaps between begging for you to let him cum and praising how well you suck his cock. You feel him twitch and his breath hitches as his hips buck up and you swallow around him as his orgasm hits. He cries out in relief at finally being allowed to cum. When he finishes you remove your mouth and swallow, licking your lips as he watches you.

“You did so well” You grin. “I told you it would be worth it if you behaved.”

He helps you up off the floor and smiles. “I promise to always trust my noona in the future.” He presses you against the table and lets his hands glide down your sides. “But first I believe that I need to finish my dessert?”

You lean back onto the table and spread your legs enough for him to stand between them. He lifts you so that you are sitting on the table and positions his chair between your legs. He pushes your dress up to reveal your soaked satin panties and smirks. “Noona, you are so wet for me.” He isn’t wrong either, you can feel the cool air hit your soaked panties, you are too turned on to care at how messy you must look. He pulls your panties down your legs and drops them next to his pants. He sits and pulls you closer to the edge of the table, grins up at you with that perfect mouth and lowers his head. 

His tongue is as devilish as he is. You’ve decided that he is the most dangerous one is EXO because you were under the impression that he’d be soft and passionate, kind of like Kai, not like he currently was which was going down on you with vigour, a man starved of pussy. You had a hand clamped over your mouth to stop your moans from being loud enough that people in the building next door heard them as well. His hands held your legs open as he flicked and swirled his tongue over your clit, lightly sucking it. You were reaching your peak faster than you were proud of when he hummed. Your back arched and you could feel the tingling starting in your fingertips and toes. 

Then he stopped. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows to complain but before you could scold him for edging you he spoke. “Noona, can I please fuck you? Eating you out has made me painfully hard again and I feel like if we ever want to leave this restaurant I’m just going to have to fuck you”. Without answering you move off the table and straddle him, sinking down on his cock and sighing in pleasure. The friction was heavenly. “Oh my fucking god.” He whined. You held the back of the chair for support as you rolled your hips, chasing your orgasm. There was nothing soft or delicate about this, this was hard, fast, desperate sex. It was the kind of sex people had when they thought they might never fuck again, that ‘if we don’t live to see tomorrow’ kind of sex. And it was fucking hot. Chen had to kiss you to keep you from screaming out as you fucked him harder and faster. You could feel your orgasm within your grasp and you were not letting it get away again. He moved a hand under your dress and rubbed your clit, pushing you over the edge. He followed shortly after, his body shaking with the force of his climax.

You both stayed like that for a few moments as you collected yourselves and caught your breaths. Chen spoke first. “Noona?” 

“Mmm?” Words were not working for you yet. 

“That. I don’t have words for how good that was. All I can say is thank you but now I probably won’t be able to finish my speech without getting a boner. Or eat dessert without blushing.” He was sincere and chuckling to himself at the same time. “We didn’t even finish the tasting plate.”

“You are welcome but please, don’t laugh while you are still in me. I’m too sensitive for that sensation right now.” You moved to get off him and he helped you, using a napkin to clean you up hiding that particular napkin in his jacket. Once you feel a little more decent you hold your hand out to him and ask. “My panties?”

He grins. “I’m keeping them.” You watch as he puts them in the pocket of his pants and then gets dressed. “We’re going back to the dorm from here anyway so you’ll be ok without them noona.”

You point at him. “Chen, you are the devil.” 

He laughs and then you both do your best to make yourselves look less like you’d just fucked each other. As you are fixing your hair you hear him clear his throat and you look up. The confident post sex glow has all but disappeared from his features, nervousness and guilt replacing it. This isn’t something you’ve experienced with the others and it worries you.

“Um, I know you get kind of heated when I bring it up but honestly, is there something going on with you and Min? Because if there is I don’t know how to feel about what happened today.” He wrings his hands together as he speaks, shame, fear and guilt washing over him.

You reach out and grab his hands in an effort to soothe him. “Dae no, don’t worry about it. He and I are not a thing. We just hooked up before I started doing these lessons, which were his idea by the way, and we occasionally fuck.” 

Relief floods his face as he smiles. “Thank fuck for that. I didn’t want to have to have the world’s most awkward conversation with him.” He pauses and then starts laughing uncontrollably. “Wait so Baek has been right all along?!” 

“Shut up!” You exclaim.

He starts laughing loudly as he fixes his hair. “He’ll flip once he finds out!” 

You freeze. You can’t have him running his mouth to all of the guys. That’s not how you want Baek to find out. You already have a feeling he’s going to feel like you kept some sort of secret from him given he’ll be one of the last to know. “My one rule about this is you cannot talk about it with anyone who has not had a private lesson ok, that includes Baek & Min.”

“But -” Dae starts.

“No Dae, no exceptions.” You stand firm on this. He cannot mess this us for you, you need him to know that.

“Ah waeee.” He complains. It won’t work this time though.

“Dae.” You say sternly.

“Fine…” He pouts but the message has gotten through to him. He looks at the table then back at you. “So are you gonna eat that?” You laugh and shake your head. He grabs a tart from the tasting plate and gestures towards the door with his head. “So uh, ready to go out and see if anyone stares?”

“On the off chance they did hear anything, you are going first so that you can make an escape. I’ll head out a few minutes afterwards.” He nods and moves the chair that you placed to block the door back to its original spot. Then he takes a deep breath, pulls his cap down low, puts his sunglasses and face mask on, nods at you, opens the door and walks out - tart in hand. 

Once he’s gone you count to twenty then exit as well, heading to the concierge to fix up the bill and to thank them for their excellent service. They get a hefty tip as compensation for their discretion. 

***

Back at your apartment you turn your attention back to the issue that is Byun Baekhyun. You don’t want to tell him everything but you also don’t want him to think he’s been rejected. A phone call could be too awkward and in person would definitely not end well. The two of you always end up far too close for comfort when left to your own devices. No, the best option would be the one that started the flirtations, texting.

[4:23pm] You: Baekkkkkkkk

[4:23pm] You: B-A-E-K-H-Y-U-N!

You figure annoying the shit out of him in the afternoon might do the trick. He’d either be gaming, napping or at SM so it was the best bet to get a response sooner rather than later. 

[4:24pm] Baek: Are you drunk?

[4:24pm] Baek: Worse than that, did you get Dae drunk? That is vital info that I need before I get home.

You laugh at the image of his gleeful face as he hoped Dae was drunk. Unfortunately for him he wouldn’t be able to mess with the king of pranks tonight.

[4:24pm] You: No on both counts. Sorry, no easy pranks for you.

[4:25] Baek: You had one job. He is gullible af when he’s drunk. We could have had SO much fun. 

[4:25pm] You: I mean I did my job which was teach English. 

[4:26pm] Baek: Boo you whore.

You nearly spit out the drink you’re sipping. He did not just make a Mean Girls reference. That movie was one of your favourite things ever. Endlessly quotable and hilarious.

[4:26pm] You: You like Mean Girls?

[4:26pm] Baek: What of it?

[4:26pm] Baek: Am I not allowed to like it coz it’s a chick flick?

Every straight guy you’d ever met seemed to have this movie as a guilty pleasure - meaning that they’d get all defensive when someone found out that they liked it, like it was a crime or something. 

[4:26pm] You: It’s an excellent movie. You just went up in my books.

[4:27pm] Baek: My father, the inventor of Toaster Strudel, will be pleased to hear this.

You burst out laughing. Ok so he’s seen this movie more than a few times which you think is wonderful. You wonder if he’s seen Legally Blonde, 10 Things I Hate About You or Clueless?

[4:27pm] You: LOL! We’ll have to watch it together sometime.

[4:27pm] Baek: I was actually starting to think you’d never contact me.

[4:27pm] Baek: So it’s nice to be wrong. Can’t lie.

Well one of you had to bring the conversation back to the elephant in the room.

[4:28pm] You: I have been thinking about that day Baek.

Which was not a lie. You tried not to think about it but it has etched out a space in your brain and was living there rent free until you dealt with it.

[4:28pm] Baek: Yeah?

[4:28pm] You: Yeah. I need you to know that I’m not ignoring the chemistry between us but I’m not sure what it is you’re after? I do like you, but I don’t want to lead you on... 

This could go one of two ways. Either you’d crush him or it would be ok. You really hoped you weren’t crushing this man via fucking SMS. That would be a low ass blow.

[4:28pm] Baek: I like you, so I guess I’m looking for a continuation of what we have? You fit in so well with all of us and I don’t wanna make that weird and I’m under no illusion that we could ever be a real thing so idk if that helps? I just didn’t wanna keep coming on to you if you weren’t feeling it. I’m not about that creep life.

The sigh of relief that escaped you was palpable. It was going to be ok and you would be able to hold off on telling him about the lessons. Things were going to work out. You’d just have to make it worth it when his time came.

[4:29pm] You: No, that makes sense and I think I get where things are at. I’m good with that :) 

[4:29pm] Baek: Thank fuck for that. 

[4:29pm] Baek: Not to be that guy but I need to go back in to record. Talk later?

[4:29pm] You: You go Glen Coco.

[4:29pm] Baek: Fuck we are lame. lmao.

[6:11pm] Baek: What the fuck did you do to Dae. He’s SO LOUD at practice.

[6:11pm] Baek: Minseok is gonna hit him soon istg.

Masterpost | Chapter 36 | Chapter 38

#exowritersnet #kwordsmiths #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo reverse harem #xiumin fic #baekhyun fic #suho fic #lay fic #kai fic #chanyeol fic #chen fic #sehun fic #d.o. fic #minseok fic #junmyeon fic #yixing fic #jongin fic #jongdae fic #kyungsoo fic #exo smut #exo imagine

[fairyshuuu]

Iveracity 1| do kyungsoo

.summary. IVERACITY (noun) the act or practice of deceiving; concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading; duplicity; fraud; lies. .word count. 30k .pirate!au | princess!au | strangers to lovers!au. .pairing. kyungsoo x female!reader .genre. fluff, romance, fantasy, smut (in part 2) 

.warnings. violence, blood mentions, char/char threats (violence is not cute pals!), swearing, human trafficking mentions, drowning threats and mentions, sehun is best boy, pirate!baekhyun (not a warning but i ♡), explicit language and scenes, dom!kyungsoo, first time, unprotected sex, it starts very slow, i’m sorry!

!  if you are on mobile, please try to open this post on desktop instead because it might very well crash the app, thank youu  !

.author’s note. this bitch is really long, so sit down with a blanket and a cup of tea please, i don’t want you to get back or neck pain. hope you enjoy!!

    🌊🌊🌊    

With the bright of morn, a harmonic melody sounds just barely though the thick, stone walls, waking any stragglers from slumber. You, however, have been awake for hours already. Though your hair is pinned up with costly jewelry every which way, still a few stray strands fall into your face. “Oh please, your Highness,” you breathe, turning on your heel to follow behind the tall figure that readies to walk out the door, “it’s hardly a difficult request. I’ve been scouring the port for weeks now. I’m prepared entirely, top to bottom.”

The man sighs and sends you a small smile, while two maids slide the protectors around his lower arms into place. When all is finished, his pristine outfit all in place for the day, he turns to you. A heavy hand is rested on your shoulder, dark eyes finding yours. “Will you settle down? It’s early, Princess, and people are still sleeping.”

“The sun is up,” you huff in response, “that means ‘get to work’.” The two maids bow deeply and leave the room after that, leaving just the two of you in the smaller of dressing rooms inside the palace. When the King doesn’t say any more, you breathe out deeply. “Father, please. I promise I can do this. I’ve readied all my supplies myself, I have a guard set up and everything. Besides, I’m not as young as you hope I am anymore. If not now, I’ll never get to do anything worthwhile before I’m married off.” When your father glances at you again, you pout. “Please?”

“Y/N Clementine Panethin,” he says, a frown sliding onto his face. Your father, though he does his best to sound fed up, has always had a soft spot for you. It is why you can push it as much as you can, you’d hardly ever consider whining this way to your mother. He rubs his fingers right above his brow, smoothing away the non-existent wrinkles there as he thinks. Your father, like most of the kings and queens, is still very young. Perhaps it’s this that sets you apart from the working class. The ability to marry young, to have children while you’re still as able-bodied as you were. Well, that, and the money of course. 

“Why,” he sighs then, “why is it so hard for you to just accept your role in this world?” His clothes are covered top to bottom in fine copper thread, shimmering even in the low light of the sun. If he was hunting for food, and not for fun, you’d guess the clothes impractical. But royals don’t do anything for the need of it. “And I don’t think you can complain about marriage, young lady. When I was as young as you are now, I was already married and had your sister, after all. Be glad I haven’t married you off myself already.” You huff in response, taking as deep a breath as the tight corset around your ribs allows you to.

“I’m fading away in these sad, lonely walls! Colet and Toelo don’t have to stay inside all day, why do I?”

“Because your older sister and brother are both married and are doing their ruling jobs, Princess. Until you are, you’re supposed to stay inside and learn your families craft by heart. That is your role, as the younger of the two girls,” he smiles as he says it, sensing your absolute refusal of his words as soon as he speaks them. He is, by all accounts, right of course. Women being the head of the family comes with some great advantages, ones you have no right complaining about. Still doesn’t take away the excruciating boredom though.

“I’ve learned everything I had to since I was five years old. I can read texts older than my great great grandmother, should I ever need to do so. I can paint, sing and dance.” You sigh, looking at the countless pieces of jewelry displayed on the wall next to you, and pick one of the pieces from it’s hanger. Your father bows his head smoothly for you to place it on him, securing it in his long, black hair to have the colorful stone fall between his brows. A protection charm. “But what I want more than all of that combined— is to see the world. Please, your Highness, let me. And I’ll never complain again.”

With this, your father straightens up, and pulls you into a small hug. “Alright, you little monkey. You can go.” He walks to the door and past it then, not willing to lose more precious daylight spent indoors. You trail behind, eyes wide.

“Wait, really? I’m really allowed to go?” When your father rolls his eyes at your disbelief, you jump up and give him another hug. “Oh really?! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best parent ever. I love you.” When you rush past him and toward the exit, your father laughs along with you.

“Be careful! And I want to hear from you in a dozen days at the latest.”

“Promise!” you confirm, already rushing through the shiny halls on bare feet. With the door closing behind you, you run past the many rooms of the palace, past the gardens too. After a good minute or two you finally make it to the main room, as many of your cousins and nieces get ready to eat breakfast. You don’t need to join them, not when you have a ship to board in a couple hours. Arriving to the main hall, you slow, taking a deep breath in and out. Excitement rushes through your veins.

The main hall leads straight to the wide, open world. The sky is clear, though still dim in the early quiet of the morning, colored an orange to pull in the rising sun. The big plaza in front of the palace is still devoid of people this early too. You clean and dry your feet quickly before tying your shoes and grabbing the bags prepared carefully for your departure.

The plan is to join the traveling fleet on it’s journey to your biggest trading companion. Aking, the Capital and the only home you’ve ever known, is rich with many talented artisans who often sail their goods to the land north from here. You don’t just know this of course, since a Princess doesn’t have much to trade for. You barely go outside of the city, let alone to leave the island. And you like it that way for the most part, since your country is a beautiful, thriving place. 

But for as much as you’ve read, there’s one place that seems to be even prettier. Elyfhil, of the land of snow. When your older sister announced yet another trading fleet to go there, you couldn’t help yourself. You just have to see it yourself, if only once. The cold breeze travels down your spine, carrying the soft rumbling of the lively city to greet you. As if right on time, a voice clears behind you. “Where do you think you’re rushing off to so quietly, Princess?”

You straighten out, and pull a grin as you greet the new person. “Out.”

The young man’s eyebrows rise considerably, normally serious expression replaced for one of youthful wonder. “You actually got them to let you go?” Sehun is dressed in the royal guard colors, sunflower yellow and a deep blue, though he still looks about as sleep deprived as usual. For as much as the guards get switched out, a security measure of sorts, Sehun’s been there for longer than you can remember. He was one of the only people to ever volunteer, if you recall correctly. He’s been your friend ever since he entered the palace at twelve years old, wide eyed and clueless.

“Sure did,” you nod, smiling gratefully when Sehun takes the heavier bag from you to carry it himself. He’s not the little, scrawny boy he once was anymore, and it shows. “Actually, I was just about to go check the quarters for a guard willing to accompany me on a long and tiresome journey like this one. It might be hard to find someone able to travel with me. Unless you want—”

“I’ll go!” Sehun brings out before you can even finish, reaching forward to grab your second bag. “Anything to get away from the new maid girl. She’s been following me around for the entire week, I can’t do it anymore. I suppose I feel flattered, but Gods… I can hardly focus on my work this way.” You snort as he colors slightly pink.

“Yeah, you’re right. Which man would possibly enjoy the attention of a beautiful girl like her? I can’t imagine the hardship.” Sehun’s face voids when he looks at you, though you can almost read the retort in his eyes. Luckily you’re a Princess, who can’t be sworn at. “Come on, Master Sehun. We have a ride to catch.” With a swift nod, he slips into his shoes as well, and starts walking. Down the stairs and across the marketplace that unfold in the shadow of the mountain. You greet some people as they walk past, getting ready to set up store on the expanse.

When you look further down the path, Sehun has your both bags on a shoulder each, dark hair swaying left and right in the wind, much like the flowers that line the cobbled street. You speed your steps to keep up with the man, and take a deep breath of the peaceful silence of the city. Some kids dart behind the houses when they see you two approach. “Are my bags not too heavy?” you ask, turning to your friend. “We might have to leave some things behind in the stables if they are.”

Sehun laughs at that, shaking his head. His eyes crinkle into moons with that sentiment, reminding you of the many times you two played in the royal gardens when you were both a lot younger. This must be the first time you’re heading out with him though, even with all the years that have passed. “They are fine, Princess,” your friend grins, looking over his shoulder as you do your best to keep up with his long legs. As you arrive to the big, richly decorated building he pauses, putting them down next to his feet. “Now quickly go pick a horse for us both. Or your precious dream will sail off without you.”

     🌊🌊🌊    

The trip to the port city Aoran takes both longer and less than you expect it to. The sun is quite unforgiving while you travel, the heat of the horse beneath you only adding to it in turn. But though you ride for a couple of hours, the scenery is ever-changing and you find it to go by much quicker than hours normally do. When you finally arrive, your water and tea are almost at day’s end. The salty ocean wind comes to wish you welcome, along with the busy chatter of the city life. The streets are wider than those back home, and crawling with people left and right. You dismount your horse smoothly, not catching your robe like you watch Sehun do, as he almost levels with the ground. You do your best to keep the giggles to a minimum when he already looks entirely mortified.

As you cautiously walk into town, many eyes trail behind you. You guess you do stand out quite a bit, doused top to bottom in everything expensive. Aking is full of these sorts though, you never noticed how obvious you were until just now. The people here are used to a more toned down display of class. Long hair tied out of the way with ribbons instead of the metal pins you’re used to, and a surprising amount of pants. Weird. As you walk, Sehun stays close to your side, though his eyes are as full of curious stars as yours are, if not more. “I’m pretty sure we just follow the road down,” you mumble to him, noticing people who scurry around to get out of your path. You never really thought the Capital as rich before, but maybe now— 

“I believe so too, Princess.” He cocks his head forward in gesture, towards a group of men and women further down the wide, cobbled streets that click under your shoes. “I’d say follow the fishermen, probably.” Indeed, the people have thick bundles of nets tied around their backs, and heavy ropes in hand, most likely seafolk of a sort. When they turn the corner at the end of the street, so do you. The houses here are nowhere near as tall or large as you’re used to, but they have a certain charm. Though foreign, the city carries a peacefulness, a rhythm of life that seems to bring you warmth. If you weren’t so down on time, you’d love to spend weeks here, exploring every single nook and cranny. 

Soon, the sounds of chatter is replaced with that of seagulls, and of metal slamming against wood. A much rougher sound. The sun sinks ever so slowly past it’s highest point, making you swallow. After midday, the letters had informed. You just hope… “What if we missed the boat, Sehun? I can’t possibly explain my mother that I wish to try again.” You lean a bit closer to him when a vendor jumps into the street to sell some goods, reeking of wine, or maybe some cheaper drink. He doesn’t seem worried though, and trails peacefully behind you.

“I doubt there’s anything your parents wouldn’t allow you, your Highness.” He smiles as if to himself, before looking over at you. “Or is it not you whose entire collection of ancient pottery was painted over at a certain time, “by accident”? Pretty sure you didn’t even get told off, let alone punished. The King and Queen have the biggest of soft spots for you. If you blink your lashes enough, I’m certain you can do whatever you desire.” When he finishes with a giggle, you have to pause. A soft hum leaves you, because he’s right. You can hardly complain.

The fisherfolk in front turn corner again, leaving you to wonder. As you look up to follow one of the birds overhead with your eyes, you spot a tall pole sticking out above the houses. It is a little rough around the edges, with worn ropes hanging from the top and another fabric that darts softly back and forth in the wind. It takes a few seconds for you to really realize what it is, but when you do you almost swallow your tongue. “Is that the mast?” you bring out, shocked. “It’s so much taller than I thought it would be, dear Gods! How big is this damn boat?”

You rush down the last bit of road at a much swifter pace, the brown mare trotting behind you. When you round the corner, with Sehun’s displeased mumbling in the background, you stop drop dead in the middle of the street. The pier is long, and filled with hundreds of people, but that’s not what catches your attention. The wooden boat closest to you is massive, and only one of many. You could run the entire length of it and be out of breath. The national flag blows proud in the wind, wood accompanied with touches of silver, and ocean topaz that shimmers in the light of the sun. Clearly part of the royal fleet. You don’t even want to doubt how a thing of this size floats.

“Princess Y/N,” Sehun calls from behind you, having caught up. “Over here.” You have to forcefully tear your eyes away from the countless things happening to find your friend in the stir. People do their best to stay out of your way though, staring over their shoulders with whispers of ‘princess’ to their friends. You spot Sehun standing by another guard, as he motions you closer. “This is Marthe, a guard of house Sinith. He’s staying here in town until the crew return from their journey.” The boy is still quite young, with boyish features and some messy, brown hair. He gives you a deep bow, not quite catching your eyes. It too, is pinned out of his face with a silver-like pin, decorated all over with tiny, orange gems. Strange how easy it is to pick out who belongs and who doesn’t. But then again, maybe that’s the point.

“Your Majesty” the boy smiles, taking hold of Sehun’s horse as he hands it over. “My sister and her husband own that tavern, over down by the beach. We have some stables that can hold the royal mounts while you go, though. If that would convenience your Majesty, of course.” Sehun’s already taking your bags off of the horses before you can say anything, so with a small smile, you agree. He smoothly picks the reigns from your hands without touching them, and bows once again. “I’ll take good care of them,” he confirms. You don’t doubt it.

“Thank you. You’ll be rewarded graciously upon my return,” you confirm, already watching him turn away. Some voices sound from down further, with the wafts of the waves rhythmically smashing against the pier. Everything seems to move much quicker here, like the rapid flow of the ocean affects the people just as much as it affects the sand. This is their life though, the maritime trade provides everyone here with money to live. You grab a loose hold of Sehun’s garb as he travels through the people, hands occupied with your large sacks. His tall shape barely sticks out between all the others here. “Hey, Sehun?” you suddenly bring out, squeezing between two men who drag a full net over the ground. Sehun can just about catch your eyes as he looks over, and pulls a questioning face. “Was this one of my really bad ideas, you think?”

“Probably,” he laughs, “but I like it. At least you’re trying to be someone you dream of being. The Capital has enough prim and proper Princesses to marry half of them off without problems. You’re making a difference!” He points over to the ocean then, to the incoming waves that look a lot less unruly from a distance. “I haven’t heard of a single princess boarding a ship just for the fun of it, after all.” You two walk past the full length of the pier to reach the way up, as you stare all the while. People climb with ease into the ropes that span between the masts. Some people carry the last of giant boxes of merchandise down deck, while others talk joyfully between them. A boat like this, as strange as it sounds, almost has an entire life of it’s own, you think. A life where city rules don’t count nearly as much.

“Careful,” Sehun motions over to the edge of the pier as you come to a standstill, looking up now too. He stares for a second longer, before lifting his shoulders. “I think here is where my expertise stops, your Highness. You do have a way to get on board, don’t you?” You point in front of you without thinking, to the narrow piece of wood connecting the pier to the boat. It moves up and down with the motions of the wooden vehicle. “By Idite, not that! I mean, are we even allowed to be on the ship, Princess?”

“Oh, that,” you respond. Of course you thought of that, you’ve been preparing for this journey for two months now. Though, you’re not quite sure how this works. “Yes, of course, we’re allowed. I’ve sent multiple letters back and forth with the crew leader, after all. I just don’t really … know what they look like, ‘s all.” This makes your friend’s mouth drop open in disbelief, but you’re already walking up the plank before he can add any of his no-doubt entirely positive criticism. “Only one way to find out, I guess!” With wide outstretched arms you walk forth bit by bit, not willing to let the sudden movements of the waves below scare you. Another advantage of being royal born maybe, is that you have received a great swimming training, since you were a small child.

You hold your breath when the plank creaks below your feet, balance feeling entirely clunky on the narrow walkway. When you finally set foot on board, a relief seems to fill your tense body. You turn to Sehun to check on him, and motion for him to throw the bags over to you, which he does with a surprising ease. As the bags land with loud thumps beside you, you turn to take in the ship. Your entrance doesn’t seem to have gone unnoticed, however, since many of the men stare at you without blinking. “Captain!” one calls over his shoulder, as you look around. The sails of the boat are truly gigantic, most likely the largest pieces of fabric you’ve ever seen, and fall from three different masts. The wood under your feet is polished top to bottom.

Without warning, a person suddenly drops from the sky— or one of the many ropes more likely, having you stumble back in surprise. The stranger is tall and quite built, with long, copper hair that peeks out from under a large hat. The woman grins when your eyes widen in surprise, before bowing a slight bit. “Well, well, what pretty flower washed onto my ship so suddenly.” Before you can answer, she takes a gentle hold of your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, as you shoot entirely cherry red. “You’re awfully dressed up.” 

When you don’t respond right away, she lets your hand drop back down under the laughter of some of the crew, and lifts an eyebrow. “Sorry to say, sugar plum, but I think you’ve walked onto the wrong ship. And I don’t like sending pretty girls away so rudely, but we have somewhere to be before sundown, so.” The woman is clearly a good bit older than you, but is dressed in the colors of your house, albeit a faded version of them because of the sun. Her skin is full and warm, and her face with big, round eyes that seem to scan you thoroughly.

As you open your lips to respond, a smooth voice comes from your right, somewhat hurried and with a hint of laughter laced between the words. “Ah, Captain, I think this is my doing.” The man greets you with a deep bow, and smiles, lips curling cutely like a feline during a nap. “You must be Princess Y/N, I’ll assume. I’m your correspondent of the last few weeks, it’s nice to finally meet you in person. Kim Jongdae, quartermaster.” He greets you in the traditional Aking way that you’re much more used to, with his knuckles pressed together against his heart and a small bow of the head, that you gratefully reincorporate. “Or first mate, for the non seafaring folk, I guess.”

He then turns your attention back to the woman to his side, and smiles widely. “This scary one is the boss of this operation, you’ll be safe in her hands. Captain Lilith, meet the Princess that will be accompanying us for our travels. Princess,” he then returns. You briefly offer the captain a deep bow, looking around. The crew that have gathered around you in a circle seem increasingly interested now. You have to wonder how many of them have ever been to the Capital before, if any. Lilith nods in understanding, before crossing her muscular arms over her chest. You’ve seen strong women before, but geez, she’s got more muscles than Sehun does. It’s kind of impressive.

“I see. Well then,” she sighs, pointing in the general direction of the cabin at the far end of the boat. “Sugar plum can stay in the free room downstairs.” She looks around at her crew then, and frowns. “What are all of you still standing here, we’ve got a ship to man! Off your feet and to your positions. This is not a evening cruise, so make it snappy, thank you very much.” With a hand on the black-haired man’s shoulder, she moves to walk away. “Jongdae, you’ll handle this?”

“Aye, Captain.” Her heavy boots make the wood creak as she walks away, disappearing out of view by the wild back and forth of her crew. You stare until the feather of her hat vanishes entirely when the door is pulled close behind her. So instead you turn your attention to the man who’s left. Jongdae is kind-looking, with bright, calculating eyes and high cheekbones, one of which has a scar down it. His hair is tied back with the same ribbons you saw the townspeople use, but he has a certain attitude that screams Capital to you. He takes you in top to bottom again now, and then smiles, the gesture warm. “I’m sorry about that. I did tell her that you’d be coming a few days ago, but in all the preparation, it must have slipped both of our minds. I’ll prepare your room as soon as we’re out of the harbor, Princess.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, toying with your dress, “I’ve had that happen to me more times than I can count.” You turn to pick up the bags that were so graciously tossed on board earlier, and then gasp. “Oh! This is Sehun, by the way. He’s my guard for this journey. I did mention that, didn’t I?” Sehun bows politely to the quartermaster, looking about as out-of-his-element as you feel.

“You did,” the raven haired man grins, giving the other a slight bow.

“Good.” You flush a little, attempting to shake the silence between you. It’s just strange. You’ve never met people before who regard you so casually while knowing who you are. It’s either one or the other, most of the time. When you go out into the outskirts of capital, dressed in the plainest clothes you own, it’s easy to pretend that you’re one of them. Sit by the canal, watching small children rushing by on their short, stubby, little legs. When one of them tumbles and you rush forward to help, a mother thanks you genuinely. Because she wants to thank you, not because of a certain imposed obligation. Jongdae looks at you this way now too, despite knowing who you are. You swallow, and attempt a better hold on the bag when it slips down. “Is there anything I could help with?”

“Later, maybe,” he agrees, which makes a slight pride swell in your chest. At least he doesn’t think you’re entirely useless. Jongdae nods, more to himself than to you, and cleans his hands on his brown pants. You’re a bit caught off guard when you really take a look at him. His clothes are not what you expected a sailor to wear, though that might be an entirely self-centered misconception on your part. It’s just— his clothes are clean, and entirely well made too. The white blouse seems much more comfortable on a busy place like this than the tight, restrictive clothing your dressed in. Colorful glass beads are woven into some strands of his hair, and his earrings are even more intricate then yours. “I guess it’s good that our ship is as big as it is, huh. With the amount of metal you’re wearing, a smaller vessel would have gone straight to the bottom.”

You laugh a little at that, glad to rid the situation of the awkward tension as soon as possible. If you’ll be on the same ship for a few weeks, you’d rather be comfortable with the people you’re on it with. Jongdae doesn’t seem very hard to like, though. “I think you’ll be fine.” You look up to the sky again, watching as people swing around between the ropes with ease, like they’ve spent their entire lives up in the ropes. Most of them probably have. “I’ve never been on a boat this big,” you admit, “or at all, really.”

Jongdae motions to follow him as he talks, eyes smiley. “It’s not just a boat. It’s a ship, Princess. The royal fleet has some of the biggest ships in the entire world, the May Terror is no exception.” As you walk toward the cabin, you notice that the plaque above the door indeed has ‘May Terror’ engraved into it, bright in the afternoon sun. You wonder who gave it it’s name. Lilith, maybe. You walk past many of the crew, attempting to acknowledge every person you meet with a little bow of your head. “Besides,” Jongdae continues, “I guess we would be fine! Don’t Royal born’s float in water?” He turns to you with a laugh, but the question seems entirely genuine, so you raise your brows at him.

“No! Of course we don’t.” You glance behind you to check for your friend a second, before continuing. Sehun seems bright in the light of the sun, his demeanor entirely soaking in the new environment. You’re glad he likes it this much, you do too. “I don’t think there’s anything that floats in the ocean, quartermaster.”

“Actually,” Sehun brings out, long legs easily keeping up with your pace even with his wondrous looking around, “I heard the same about sailors.” Jongdae’s eyebrows raise at that. “That they float in water, you know.”

Jongdae snorts, and pushes open the back door of the cabin, leading into a dim staircase. “Well, believe me, we don’t either. After you,” he gestures. You shift your dumb, big bag to one arm, and lift your dress with the other hand as you descend, blinking against the darkness of the hall. Jongdae follows behind you, and Sehun last. The hall is narrow, the air a bit dull. The strong scent of sea is still present, but there’s also hints of candle wax and wine here, which seems to check out. Jongdae leans over you a little to point at the far door to your right, and laughs. “That’s the one. You and your guard would be sharing a room though, if that’s okay. Or, if you’re not too comfortable with that idea, he can sleep downstairs as well, where the rest of the crew is.”

You nod and make your way over, pushing down the silver handle to reveal a beautiful room, with more light than you would’ve expected. A large, round window sits in the middle of the wall, flanked on both sides by beds. The side closest to you has a large dresser, and even a mirror. “Wow,” you just breathe, making way to allow both men to enter. As you walk towards the window, a loud bell sounds from somewhere upstairs, scaring you a little.

“Ah, I’ve gotta be getting up there, we’re sailing out.” Jongdae checks around the room quickly, before nodding. “You can get settled in, your Highness. And afterwards, come find us up top, the main door will lead you straight to the office. If you have a need for anything else, we’ll get you sorted out then.” Before you can even say a proper thanks, he closes the door behind him and rushes off to help man the ship, you guess. With a little sigh, you drop the one bag on your bed, and sit down next to it. Sehun follows your lead, though he stays standing on his side of the room, with a little frown.

“Your Highness. I’ll go find myself a place downstairs, do not worry. And maybe I can get the quartermaster to apologize for the mistake as well.” He turns away to start unpacking your stuff, mumbling quietly to himself, but loud enough for you to catch it. “A guard and a Princess sleeping in the same room, ridiculous.”

You pause to think for a moment, hearing the waves rushing past at an almost timed speed, again and again. Paired with the creaking of the ship and the muffled sound of voices, sounds entirely foreign, and yet you find a joy in it. You, a Princess, on a gigantic ship called the May Terror, it’s comical at best. “Actually,” you say, “if you don’t mind, I’d rather have you here.” Sehun’s eyes are big as saucers when he turns to look over his shoulder at you. “It’s unconventional, I know, but I don’t know anyone else here, and I’d take a great comfort in having you here. Besides, it’s not like the King and Queen would even find out.”

After a long pause, your friend nods, though hesitation is still marked in his eyes. “Of course, your Highness, if that’s what you wish for.”

“It is,” you confirm, getting up to take out one of your dresses. It’s a much lighter fabric that the traditional one you’re used to wearing, which means it’s infinitely more expensive, but it doesn’t look it. Besides, it’s hot down here, the air smothering. A lighter dress would do you well. When Sehun notices your stance, he immediately looks away.

“I’m waiting outside.” With that he runs off and shuts the door behind him, while your giggle follows. Sehun should probably also change. You’re not sure if he brought anything but the bare essentials though. Maybe he could borrow from Jongdae. You lay the dress down on the bed and stare at it for a second, taking in it’s pale pink color, as well as the form-fitted silhouette. Modern craftsmanship at it’s finest. If you were to wear this inside the palace though… well— safe to say you just wouldn’t wear it in the palace. Your mom and your older sister would both have your head.

You reach behind you to loosen the tied lints of your corset, fiddling with them until they come apart, and lay it down next to you on the bed, to disrobe entirely. Despite what some people might think, you actually don’t get dressed by maids every day, so you’ve gotten quite good at taking off your clothes without wrinkling them. The intricately embroidered dress is put aside and replaced by the pretty, empire waisted dress. It’s light, made of countless layers of sheer linen and entirely too “modern” for someone of your status, but this place makes you feel daring. You slip it on quickly, and sigh because it’s gorgeous, like you expected it to be. But Gods, does it show the entirety of your ankles. You’ll just have to live with it, you suppose.

“Sehun,” you call out then, hoping that he’s still waiting in the hall, “please come help me lace up! I can’t do it on my own.” This is true, of course, you think as you situate the corset back into place, but this way you can also check the reaction of your friend before going out into the real world. If he truly thinks it too much, you might just have to suffer through the heat. Sehun enters after two swift knocks, and sighs.

“It’s really dark in that hall, they should place some candles or — something.” He trails off, before blinking a couple of times. You motion for him to lace up your support and to your luck, he does so without thinking twice about it. “I won’t say anything about it, your Highness,” he says as he pulls the piece to your usual tightness, “but if your parents would know what you’ve been up to already, and the ship has barely left the port?” He doesn’t need to continue that sentence, because you both know you’d be in massive trouble.

“But they won’t know, now will they?” You respond, relaxing when Sehun ties the lints easily. “Now, I’ll go ask Jongdae if he has something to lend that you can wear. You’ll overheat if you keep walking around in uniform like this.”

Sehun snorts, but lets you do what you want. He’s known you for long enough now to realize that you will do what you want to do, whether there is someone to stop you or not. “Let’s get up to the cabin, then,” he grins. “If I you don’t get followed around by every man on the ship, that is. You know, I thought you were going on this trip to get away from the prospect of marriage, not to gain your own harem.”

“I heard that all girls dress like this in the smaller towns, actually.” You push open the door with a huff, already walking towards the stairs. “Your lack of fashion knowledge proves that you’ve never been outside the Capital before, Master Sehun.”

“And you have?” He laughs when you send him a little glare, but follows behind at a polite distance. When you get back on deck, the wind is much more wild then it was in port. You lean over the barricade as far as you can, mouth dropping open when you look behind you. Aoran already looks tiny from here, the white of smaller sails looking like little specks in the distance. Everything looks so green from this far out. The waves of the sea smash against the sides of the ship, small drops flying up high enough to reach your face. “Have you ever seen anything that beautiful, Sehun? Look at the city.”

He nods, staring at the view much like you are. “The world is so much bigger than you realize when you’re always locked up indoors.” And right he is. You feel so small in the wake of it all. Trailing behind this first ship are two more, smaller in size but impressive nevertheless, all with the same design as this one. Not wanting to disturb anyone working on deck, you decide to follow Jongdae’s command and make your way to the main cabin as soon as possible, while Sehun decides to explore the ship further. When you knock and push open the office door, you’re surprised by how spacious the room is. The Captain is stood bent over the massive map, as Jongdae sits slouched comfortably in a chair by the window.

“Hope I’m not intervening,” you mumble softly, as the door falls into lock behind you.

Jongdae smiles, getting up to motion you over. “Not at all, princess. We’re just trying to predict what route to sail, is all.” You nod in understanding, as Lilith gives you a small smile of acknowledgement. “You said you’ve never been on a ship before, right?”

“Right.”

“Have you ever seen any other place but the Capital, your Majesty?” the Captain then asks, frown deep set on her visage, as you lift your shoulders.

“I saw Aoran for the first time a few hours ago, if that tells you anything. I mean,” you trail your finger over the map slowly, where Aking is just barely visible on it, “there’s large forests around the city, and mountains that you can walk up for days without getting to the other side. I’ve seen some of those places on outings before, briefly. But real cities, I’ve only ever read about.” The two sailors share a glance when you talk. “Not that I’m ungrateful for my position, of course. I have it much easier than most people. But that’s also partly why I wanted to join this journey. I want to be involved in my nation’s trade, I want to know who we’re trading with. Want to know what people go through, you know.”

Jongdae nods, before putting a hand on your shoulder. “I think that’s you’re doing a pretty good thing then, your Highness.” You mouth a ‘thank you’, before aiming your gaze back at the map. Lilith maps out points with a definite ease, she must have done this many, many times before after all. “Well, let me show you then,” Jongdae suddenly says, pulling you around to the other side of the table. “Our first stop will be this island. There’s a small town there called Caryon, where our food and water gets refilled for the rest of the journey. It’s the biggest of a couple islands here, as you can see. But unlike most other islands in this area, Caryon is under the nation’s control. If you have a need for anything, be sure to ask before we leave there. We’re meant to arrive around tomorrow evening, by sundown. Then we dock there until morning to resume our travels.”

“What about the other islands?” you ask, looking over at Jongdae as he easily explains. Jongdae too, looks at total ease on the ship. You wonder how long he’s been sailing for, but don’t ask. If he’s from Aking, something that seems likely considering his appearance and gesturing, something must have happened to turn him into a seafarer. People from the Capital don’t just become sea folk. Not like he is.

“What about the other islands?” he repeats.

“Well, you said, unlike the other islands, Caryon is owned by the nation. Who own the other islands?” You can barely finish your sentence or the Captain clears her throat, standing up straight. The two experienced sailors don’t say anything for a few seconds, before someone moves. Captain Lilith turns then, takes a glass and fills it to the brim with peach wine, a drink highly prized even in Aking. She offers it to you, and sighs.

“Just no-good chums, sugar plum. Don’t worry too much about them, we’re not planning to run into them anyway.” She wraps your fingers around the cup and then softly gestures you towards the door. “Why don’t you enjoy a bit of the sun and the wind, outside, ay? It’s a nice day out, and you’ll be stuck inside for too long when it starts getting cold out. Faring North tends to have that effect.” As if to confirm her words, Jongdae nods and gives you a wink.

“Captain’s right, Princess. I’ll let you know when you can help, okay? For now, you should probably experience your first boat ride from a better place than inside this dusty, old office.” With a slight pout, you nod, and bow as you head back out. The sun still hangs high in the sky, and the crew is easily bustling with a life of it’s own, laughing and talking as they do their jobs. The wind in the sails makes them bulge like reeds in the wind. As you sip your wine, you take in the view. The city that was once visible on the horizon behind now is gone, swallowed entirely by the waves, making way for an endless ocean to stretch out. It seems just as vast as the night sky, without edges to contain it on any side. You wonder if you’ll be able to count stars on the surface of the ocean when evening comes. You hope you can.

     🌊🌊🌊    

Your hands wrap around the cold game pieces again, tossing them onto the table with an attentive gaze. The ship bobs back and forward without purpose, as you reach to the side and watch the man in front of you work. He topples one of the bone runes, and then another. The game is kind of confusing, and you absolutely suck at it, but it’s entertaining anyway. The man across you plays easy, you can tell by the rolling of the eyes of the crew behind him. “Put that one forward,” Sehun mumbles to you, pointing at the piece with the number three. Cato, that’s what the blond in front of you is called, nods and points at the piece too.

“Good move,” he says. So you push it forward a square, and smile when Cato hands you a silver coin as a reward. “Congrats, your Highness.”

“You let me win.” Though he doesn’t say anything, you can see it in the glint in his eyes.

He shakes his head dramatically though. “I wouldn’t dare.” You don’t believe it one bit. “Well, thank you for this game, Princess. I’ll be heading back up though, my break is done.” Cato is a junior officer, in charge of the naval provisions and making sure the food is all accounted for. He’s nice, he offered you a biscuit earlier. With a bow, he stands from the table and puts on his vest. “I best take my leave before the Captain has my head on a stick.” The blond smiles at your expression. “Metaphorically, of course.”

“Or literally,” a guy laughs behind him, as you look on in surprise. “You know what they say, Cato.”

“Aye,” the other responds, placing his hat on his head.

You don’t though, and frown in question. “What do they say?”

Cato laughs off your confused frown, and rests his hands on his belt with ease. “They say that the Captain is the daughter of a giant and the ocean Goddess. I wouldn’t know though,” he smiles, “I’ve never asked her. It would make a lot of sense if you think about it.” You don’t know much about giants, but if anyone is the daughter of one, you believe it to be Lilith. And she does carry herself with the confidence you expect from a goddess’ child. “I’ll play you later, if I get the chance. And I won’t go easy on you that time.” You nod at that, laughing softly.

As you wave Cato out, the loud bell signalling your departure sounds out of the blue, the ringing rushed. It lasts a really long time. The two crewmen left in the hull look up at the sound of it, while glances are exchanged between all of you. They seem just as confused with the signal as you and Sehun are, which is much more concerning than the sound itself. Shouting seems to come from up top, ringing through the depth of the ship. The men get up and rush out the way Cato left, leaving only you and your friend left behind in the confusion.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you question, asking no one in particular, glancing at Sehun with wide eyes. He is entirely as lost as you are, looking more like a sailor himself instead of a guard in the new clothes he borrowed. The shouting doesn’t stop, and you take this as a signal that something is wrong. “We have to go check up deck,” you say. Sehun attempts to hold you back by your dress but you’re up and through the door before he gets the chance to, rushing down the abandoned halls. The shouting gets louder and louder the higher you get, indicating your guess to be correct. Whatever is causing the ruckus is an unexpected and unwelcome one. When some of the crew scramble down the stairs in a hurry, you flatten yourself to the wall to let them pass and continue up, ignoring Sehun when he calls for you.

You get upstairs slightly disoriented, the sun bright compared to the dim inside, even though the sky colors orange and yellow. People are scuffling all around you, as you heave yourself out of the indent of the stairs and onto deck. Someone dressed entirely in black almost runs into you, choosing to push you aside instead. You frown but don’t let this stop you. As you get up from the deck you look around the tangled mess for anyone you recognize. And sure enough. Jongdae stands far behind you, sword in hand and fighting off the person that opposes him. When he spots you, his eyes widen, as he uses his free hand to motion ‘no’ over and over again. You can hardly run back to the stairs though, watching the rest of the crew storming up them, armed with swords and shields. Jongdae overpowers the other man and kicks him in the gut, before pushing him overboard with a grunt. 

While you’re distracted with all of this, someone grabs for your arm, holding tight. Sehun. He says something in words so rushed you don’t get to make them out, but sounds angry without question. You point over to the stern of the ship. “Jongdae’s over there.” Sehun pushes you behind him, and makes his way over there slowly but surely, avoiding strangers that get in your way. The quartermaster runs to meet you halfway, pushing another stranger out of the way in the process, as you blink around you in confusion, clinging to your friend. “What’s going on?” you yell over the noise. Jongdae wipes some blood from his cheek with his sleeve. You don’t know if it’s his or someone else’s, and it doesn’t really seem like the time to ask. You’re so lost at the situation. Both parties drop to the floor like flies, marking the spotless deck with stains of red.

“Pirates,” Jongdae breathes, gaze dark. He takes the smaller knife out of his belt to hand it to Sehun, before hiding the both of you behind him to make his way through the invaders. It’s hard to make out who is who in the mess of it, so you just cling to Sehun as you can’t do anything but watch. People getting pushed overboard, and others getting stabbed. Your stomach drops at the sight of it. To the side of the ship, you notice, is another boat, almost identical in size. It’s not a part of the fleet though, because the entire length of it is painted entirely black, with deep red sails that seem to have been doused in blood.

Jongdae comes back around to stay by you, something you find a lot more comforting. He seems to have found the Captain in the fighting, or they at least end up in the same place together when you look over at him. The woman slashes two men across their throats at the same time, the bodies falling overboard with a well-aimed kick. They fall in between the gap of your ship and the other, but just barely. “Captain!” Jongdae yells, glancing at her in worry. “Where’s the other ships?”

“I sent them ahead! These bloodsuckers are not getting a single coin today,” she roars back. She tackles another of the men and skewers him against the deck, viciously glancing around. Whatever she is, Goddess or not, you’d be terrified if you were fighting against her. She glances over her shoulder for just long enough to make you and Sehun out in the madness, and swears. “Get those two on a ship and out of here, Quartermaster!” Jongdae refutes almost instantly, but she doesn’t back down. “We are fine! They won’t keep fighting if enough of their men are injured. If she dies however,” another person gets speared to the floor, smacking their head into the deck hard enough to knock them out, “I won’t be responsible for the start of a war! Get her off my ship!”

Jongdae slashes another person down when they charge at you, before giving in with a swear. He pushes the two of you toward the back of the ship more, grabbing a hold of you. When he turns, you notice how much blood is on his face and ruining his white blouse. Blood runs out of his nose, though it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. “Run to the back and get your stuff, as fast as you can,” he says to Sehun, who nods and runs to the back immediately. “You,” he brings out, wiping the back of his hand over his face and smearing the blood all over his cheek because of it, “run into the Captain’s cabin and get a big bag. Fill it with food, money, and flasks of water, okay? I’ll protect the door. Go quick!”

Waiting for one of the Pirates to stumble away, you nod, doing your best to keep your eyes from watering. You didn’t even know pirates were a thing, let alone that they would attack you on sight. With the way towards the cabin relatively clear, you run over there as fast as you can, and push your full weight against the heavy door to open it. The door falls closed behind you, leaving you obstructed from the fight. If something were to happen to Jongdae or Sehun or the Captain, you wouldn’t even be aware of it until you got back out there. However, you don’t have time to think about that. You grab a big bag and do exactly as Jongdae asked, tossing everything in with shaky hands. A map, the small metal thingie the captain was using to mark places, you toss all of it inside. Three flasks of water, a heavy pouch of money, and all the fruit that was cleanly displayed on the dresser to the side.

The door creaks behind you as someone attempts to open it, but falls back into lock just as fast. Tingles of adrenaline crawl all over your skin, like small needles. When you’re done, you grab the thing in both arms and hoist it up to the best of your ability, but it’s heavy. You lean it against the wall to pull open the door, screaming as a person stumbles inside when you do. The pirate has a knife in his back though, the one Sehun had. “Come on!” your friend blurts when he notices you there, pushed against the wall as your only protection. He grabs the bag from you and pulls you through the door so fast you almost fall over your own feet. Jongdae is standing by the railing, and fights off another of the pirates. How many of these guys even are there?!

You arrive out of breath and with flushed cheeks, but don’t get time to pause. Sehun tosses the bag overboard, as you watch with wide eyes. “Sehun!” you start, before noticing the much smaller boat there to catch it’s fall. The bag lands with a loud thump, but the small rowboat stays afloat. Sehun climbs onto the other side of the railing without hesitating, and lowers himself down to the boat by the thick rope that Jongdae must have tied there at some point when you were inside. The ship is high though, and the waves suddenly don’t look nearly as calming as they once did.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Sehun says, “you can do it!” You climb onto the other side of the railing with shallow breaths, and start lowering yourself down the rope by clenching it in between your legs. It gives you some nasty rope burns. Before you can side down any further, your hands lose strength and slip. You fall the rest of the way, landing onto the side of the boat and almost flipping it. “By Idite’s name,” Sehun brings out, helping you into the boat properly. Your feet are wet and your hip hurts a lot, but apart from that you’re fine, and the boat luckily is intact. Now you just stare up at the edge of the ship and wait for Jongdae’s face to appear. It doesn’t, not for a long while, to the point where you both attempt to pull yourself back up to check for him, but to no avail.

Luckily, after another minute or so, he finally appears to look over the side of the ship, and climbs down with his sword still in hand. He lands easily, but stares guiltily to the ship as the small boat bobs with the motion of the waves. “We don’t have to leave, Jongdae,” you quickly say, feeling equally guilty. “I can hide, or fight!”

“No,” he says though, putting the sword down and grabbing the paddles, as Sehun grabs the second pair. “The fact that you think that just means that we have to leave. The Captain knows what she’s doing. She’ll meet us in Caryon, by tomorrow. Sit tight, Princess.” So you do as told, and sit down. But the entire time the boys row away from the atrocity that just happened, your eyes stay on the ship. You can’t see anyone on deck anymore. You don’t dare to ask if that’s a good sign, or a bad one.

You’ve been swaying with the stubborn movement of the waves for at least an hour now, staring into the distance where the ship has vanished into the fog for ages already. It’s getting later and later, and the ocean is getting exponentially dark as time goes on. Not much more now, and you’ll be surrounded entirely by darkness. The idea that that can happen is terrifying. Aking is never entirely dark, even at night. However, that seems like the lesser of your many problems. Jongdae peers to the front intently, on his knees and looking for something, though you don’t know what. Sehun seems to have taken it onto himself to count your items, most likely to fight away the silence. He doesn’t do well in complete silence, it lets his thoughts run entirely free and in situations like this, he’s never the best at staying calm.

After a while, you get more anxious by all the things and Sehun’s twitching, and turn around in the boat to watch Jongdae instead. He glances behind to catch your eye, and smiles a bit. His face is still not entirely clean of the blood, but he did his best to wipe most of it away, or at least you think he did. It’s hard to tell in the slumber of nightfall. As if sensing your total and complete loss at the situation, he cocks his head to the front. “The waves are too strong for a rowboat of this size. We’d just be burning energy and staying in place, trying to head for the main island.” That makes sense. A while ago, he told Sehun to stop rowing after all. You offered to take his place, but it would have been no use, he’d said.

“So where are we going now then?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” he nods, glancing at the stars and then at the map again. You don’t know how much use a map is when you don’t have a single thing to base your position off though, just water. Jongdae doesn’t seem scared by the ocean even in a situation like this, you admire that in him. “If we have a little bit of luck on our side, we’re still heading in the right direction. And with even a bit more of said luck, we’re coming up to land any second now.” He peers out into the distance again, fingers curled tight around the paper in hand. Sehun stops his mindless counting to join in your staring. It’s hard to see because of the fog. But sure enough, very faintly, like a small curve sticking out above the horizon, you see something that you just hope is land.

“Is that it, you think?” Sehun asks, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“It can’t be anything else,” the sailor confirms, which settles your nerves. Your heart still feels heavy though. At least you’ll be reunited with the Captain and her fleet. You worry about the crew, about Cato and all the other innocent people who might have gotten hurt in the attack. How didn’t you know about this? The Captain and Jongdae did, which means that it’s happened before. How many innocent people have been attacked by pirates to get rich folk some foreign fabrics? The possibility that your parents don’t know of this is scary, but it’s even scarier to think they do. That just means they don’t care. That’s not an issue for right now though, you decide.

“Is Caryon far from the beach?” you settle on asking, “how will we get there?”

But Jongdae makes a slight noise of disagreement, before looking back at you. “This isn’t the main island, your Highness. We’re still a few hours out of reach on this little boat.” He frowns, and shakes his head. “No, this is one of the smaller islands, one we normally choose not to stop at. It is not a place you wish to stay when you work for the Royal fleet. Ayusoshil.”

You sigh, and lean forward a little, grasping the sides of the boat. “What does that mean?”

“Thief’s Bay.” Jongdae doesn’t look away from the slight bump raised above the water as he talks. Sure enough, it already seems closer than it was before. 

“Charming name,” you bring out, which makes him snort.

“Very.” When you wait with shallow breaths to get even closer, you swear you can see a tiny light through the fog. It’s faint, but unmoving, and at least it’s something to base your position on. “Let’s row now,” he says, turning to face you in the boat, “we’re close.” Sehun nods and takes a hold back on the paddles, dropping your stuff back into the big bag that lays useless at the bottom of the boat. You can hear the waves raging in the distance, washing up against the islands like a vicious attack.

    🌊🌊🌊    

The wind is cold against your skin, biting at the exposed parts of your body with razor sharp teeth, and though Sehun shelters the most of it by walking behind you, you feel weak. The sand hurts when it hits your face too. But Jongdae walks with a reasonable pace, and an optimistic attitude. The grass is long and wet, wrapping around your ankles as you scale the hill. The light you had seen from afar had been but a mirage, but Jongdae is sure that people actually live here, and that you should be coming up on them soon. The silence is broken by the sound of a bird in the distance. When you make it to the top of the hill you’re truly exhausted from the events of the day. “I told you!” the quartermaster sighs, relief brushing his features ever so softly.

Jongdae helps you up the last step and makes way for Sehun, before pointing towards the valley that spreads out in front of your eyes. Many torches burn in the darkness, flames fighting to stay ignited against the damp air. They reveal a few houses, with one large one in the center of the town, and lights that lead a path to the other side of the island, where you guess the ships are docked. “Oh, good Gods!” Sehun whispers, “I didn’t want to say it but I was worried we’d never arrive. I’m so tired, a good warm drink and I’ll be ready to go to bed.”

Jongdae stares for a while, before slowly walking down the hill, with the two of you following behind. “I don’t know if there’s an inn we can stay at, Sehun. I don’t even know if there’s anyone here who can help us. But it’s worth a try, at least.” He walks in front of you two by a few steps, and nods. “Let’s just be careful, though. And your Highness, if anyone asks,” he swallows then, eyes too serious as they regard you, “you are not a Princess starting from now, alright?” Though you don’t understand why, you nod. It seems to be really important to him.

When you finally arrive at the town, the bottom of your dress is colored a dark pink because of the wet grass. The streets are abandoned because of the nasty weather, you guess, partly wishful thinking. The main building you spotted from a distance looks old and worn, the wooden front colorless and bulging because of the elements, with yellow stained windows that are fogged up by the cold night air. “Here’s the plan,” Jongdae says, slowing his steps underneath the overhang of one of the much smaller buildings. They looked like houses from a distance, but it seems more like an abandoned storage house when you look at it now.

“The people that come here aren’t those favored by the nation. Some are probably criminals, some are most likely fugitives or other lot of that sort. And I can’t enter there without being denied immediately or worse,” he admits, “I should have brought some neutral clothing but — we were kind of in a rush to leave. It’s also not a good idea to enter there with your money on you, unless you want to be robbed the second you set foot in that place. So Sehun will stay here and hide behind this house with our things, and I’ll stand guard out here.” The wind whistles through the cracks of the building.

Sehun drops the bag to the floor for a second then, and raises his eyebrows. “All right, but then who will go inside to ask for help?” It stays silent for a while, before Jongdae’s gaze slides over to you. Sehun immediately shakes his head though. “No, no way. You can’t make the Princess of the Capital enter into a rat’s nest like that! What if something happens? She can stay hidden behind the building instead of me.”

“Sehun,” Jongdae frowns, “with all due respect, she can’t fight. You’re a guard, you have at least some fighting training. If we lose the money to thieves, we’re as good as dead. Then we’re never leaving here, and we wouldn’t have any reason for them to not kill us on the spot.” He sighs, and turns to you. His clothes are still entirely stained with blood. It would be best if he didn’t enter, you reason. He’s right, if he were to enter he’d immediately give away in how much trouble you really are. “You’ll have to do it, your Highness. I’m sorry.” Sehun opens his mouth to cut in again, but you place a hand on his arm.

“It’s fine, Master Sehun. I can do this.” You look to the floor then, and at the one bag full of everything you own. “I can do this,” you nod to yourself, before motioning to the biggest building. “I’ll try to hurry. Stay safe out here, please.”

“You too,” your friend says, frown still digging into his features in worry.

When you walk to the door by yourself, the night seems entirely quiet. Even the wind has ceased to reach this far down the valley, instead making way for a void where only the ocean is audible. You’re so used to the sound of it you almost don’t notice it anymore. The door is thick, and heavy-looking, like a piece of driftwood that was merely attached here out of ease. When you look behind again, the two guys have already moved to hide behind the building, so you take a deep breath to calm yourself, and then push hard against the door with your shoulder. The loud buzz of the room quiets when you enter, and tens of eyes turn in your direction. The men here look unfriendly to say the least. With unshaven faces, scarred arms, and sunken eyes. They seem to gleam at your arrival, but you will yourself to be brave.

The door falls shut with a loud sigh of the wood, bending under the pressure. “Does anyone here have a ship?” you ask, looking around the room and briefly at the fire that burns wildly in the fireplace. It stays silent for a while, so you sigh, and bite your lip. “Or does anyone here have a ship, who can speak Home Tongue?” Your reading ability might be pretty great, but you’re far less equipped to speak a language you’ve never even heard before. Some men talk among each other when again no one responds. Then, with the sound of metal being dropped and some ruffling, the group of men to your right move apart to reveal one of the few tables of the place, and the person sitting at it.

“I do,” he says, voice deep and full, with a slight bit of raspiness. When his eyes move from the grain of the table to meet yours, you pause to take a deep breath, and link your hands behind your back. The man seems to radiate cold from every fiber of his body, bringing a baring panic that is laced into the color of him. Though his skin tone is far from pale, it seems icy, just like the slight curl of his lips. His eyes are dark and piercing, though he’s dressed entirely in white. The many piercings that he has are delicate, and his posture casual. But maybe the most peculiar part is his hair, since it’s so much shorter than you’ve ever seen anyone wear. It is not only weird to cut your hair in your culture, it’s almost like you’re cursing at the Gods directly. “Well?” he asks, sounding bored.

“Good,” you just respond, taking a few steps closer to him. His men come to stand behind you, closing off the entrance with their bodies. You feel entirely uncomfortable turning your back to them, but you don’t really have a choice. “Me and some friends were on a fishing trip, but it seems a storm snuck up on us and we got stranded here. We would really like to get back to Caryon by tomorrow, or people will start to worry.” You pause for a second to check his reaction. But the man barely moves, just blinking a little. “I can pay you.”

“Can you, now?” he responds, straightening up in his chair. He rests his hands on the table for a bit, before toying with the glass on the table. “So a storm caught you off guard, and now you need to get out of here?” he repeats, not looking at you while he speaks. It doesn’t look like he’s looking at anything really, rather staring through the creaky, old planks of the floor into nothing.

You squeeze your own hand out of nerves and ignore the breathing of the men behind you, too close for comfort. “Yes, Sir.”

He smiles. Wide and mischievous, it curls on his lips into a heart, making him look younger than you expect him to be. It’s a pretty smile. But despite that, it sends a shiver down your spine. Smoothly, he leans back in his chair, and props his feet up on the table. Polite. His eyes find yours for just a few seconds from under long lashes, before flicking away at his surroundings. “I’ve never seen fishers before with clothes like that. Very pretty.” It’s like he doesn’t even want to look at you, like you couldn’t pose a threat if you tried. Your gaze hasn’t left his shape once for the opposite reason. He seems volatile, flammable and if you’ve learned anything of people like this, it’s to keep close watch on them.

When he gestures vaguely in your direction, you actively have to break that rule to look down at yourself. Your corset is bedazzled all over with small, shiny crystals that shimmer in the light of the fire, with thin threads and exquisite craftsmanship. Even the dumbest of people would be able to tell it to be of value, but you take solace in the fact that there are plenty of families rich enough to afford things like this. He wouldn’t be able to track you back to the royal house with just this. “You seem like a smart girl,” he sighs, with a nonchalance and a slight tick of his jaw. The rest of his crew keep their eyes on you, increasing levels of curiosity. “How about you tell us your name, huh?”

He takes clear pleasure in the doubt you express, dark eyes gleaming with the gold light of an inferno. Like a lion, exchanging glances with his prey. As if he’s asking to be dared, wants to have a reason to light up this room and tie you to the floor with it. You’re determined not to let him though. With a small nod, you take another step forward, and place your hands on the table. “It’s Clem,” you say, voice sturdy as much as you can get it in a situation like this. You only straighten up when he looks at you again, sighing deeply. “Now, can you help us or not, Captain?”

He lifts a brow and grins again, looking over at his crew. “You seem very sure about your chances here, little girl. I assure you that I’m not normally very kind to strangers who impede on my territory, though.” He stands up from his chair then, leaning forward on the table like you had seconds before, and bringing his sword up from his belt to have the blade rest against your throat. It’s perfectly sharp, dragging lines into your soft skin every time you shake. Both from the cold and the nerves. “You have some guts to come in here all alone and demand something from me so confidently.” The breath you take is shaky against the cold metal, but you clench your teeth and do your best to fight through.

“Not confident, just desperate,” you gasp.

He now pauses, expression freezing over within seconds. Then, slowly, he drags the tip of the sword down your throat and leaves it to press under your collarbones, thin skin almost revealing blood. “Then what makes you think that I won’t kill you here, right now, and find your little friends after that. It seems to me a lot more profitable to just get rid of you all together, and still take your silver for myself.” Some of the men chuckle at that, like threatening a person is a normal part of their routine.

“You won’t,” you breathe. This seems to amuse him greatly.

“Want to bet your head on that, rich girl?”

Despite the blazing fire in the room, your body is cold, and your muscles weak. You might as well. “You won’t kill me, because if you wanted to do that, you would’ve by now.” His eyebrow twitches a little at your voice, sword becoming increasingly painful on your skin. “Now, I might not know much about you or anyone in this room, but I bet you’re all here for the same reason. You believe in rules that the world doesn’t adhere to, and you think that you can do better on your own, out here in the middle of nowhere. I believe in that too.” The room feels thick with the eyes that are aimed at you like throwing swords at your head, but you don’t dare stop. At least, as long as you’re talking he doesn’t get the chance to scare you out of it. “But if you truly feel that way and you’re willing to die for it, then don’t play around like unknowing, little children. Prove that you are better than what you’re running away from.” A long, tense pause. You don’t think anyone breathes, because the room is entirely dead quiet.

In one smooth move, the sword is away from your skin, and slid back into his belt. His heavy gaze stays on yours for a second longer, before he makes his way through the men and to the door with weighted steps. “The smart mouth can live, for right now,” he brings out, taking the white jacket that matches his other clothes and draping it over his shoulders. “Baekhyun, bring her and her foundlings to the beach in a bit. The rest of you, go man our godforsaken ship before the wind changes again.” When the door is pulled open, it carries in waves of cold, and the howling of the wind through the frame. He turns over his shoulder once to give you a one over, and tuts. “Oh, and if she opens her little trap again, you kill ‘em where they stand. Understood?”

“Ay ay, Captain,” it sounds from across the room, almost sung with amusement. The idea of talking so casually about death makes you sick to your stomach. It’s like none of them have seen death before, like they don’t believe in the concept of it. But before you can say anything else, or want to, he leaves the house and disappears into the dark night, taking most of the men with him. You stare until the door slams shut with a lot of noise, before letting out a deep breath. The place where his sword was pressed is painful when you brush your fingers over it. “So what have we here,” the same voice sounds from behind you, slipping around you too fast to keep up. When you look over your shoulder, he’s already in front of you, and turns your face to meet his with a hold on your jaw. “What a curious little fish who washed up on our beach,” he grins.

“I didn’t wash up on your beach, I washed up on the other side of the island,” you bring out, pulling your face from his hold and frowning at him. The man in front of you also has relatively short hair for a citizen of any city, with smiley features and a bright grin. He’s beautiful as well, eerily so, with silvery eyes that glint with glee. He seems to light up at your attitude, and brings his face uncomfortably close to yours while he inspects you.

“I should really stab you for that,” he brings out, voice playful, “but I quite like a bit of bite in my ladies. So you’re free to do so, for as long as I’m around. Isn’t that kind?” His back is turned to you but his gaze is over his shoulder at you, as he holds his sword in his hands behind his back. You just glare at him and don’t respond, which makes him laugh. One of the men who didn’t go with the Captain pours a bucket of sand onto the fire, effectively putting it out. The other, Baekhyun you guess, tosses him a piece of silver, and then glances back at you. 

When he notices your gaze on him, his smile grows. “So, let me guess about you, little fish. I think you’re the second daughter of some sort of high ranked citizen in the Capital who sent you out, right? Your storm story is complete garbage, there were no storms anywhere near here. So the people who are with you are most likely a brother, cousin or friend who was sent with you for support, and the person who was supposed to ferry you over, right? You’re one of those librarians they sent every once in a while, right, one of those girls?” You again, don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. “I always wondered why they only send girls. My guess is they offer one to the gods every few months.” He smiles as he places the point of his sword against your lower back. “Guess you’ll find out, huh. Now walk, unless you want to get skewered.”

You walk to the door under his tight surveillance, and pull it open with both hands, goosebumps covering your every inch in the cold night air. Baekhyun hums a melody as he walks behind you, steering you towards the dirt road and out of the light that peeks through the small windows of the inn. “So what are you,” you start, staring out into the night to see of any sign that might reveal your friends, “you’re pirates, right?” Baekhyun doesn’t really respond for a bit, so you slowly start moving into the direction you came from, and wait for a sign. But as you think that, a doubt makes it’s way through you. Jongdae is still in his same uniform, unmistakably an ally of the Capital and if these men find that out, things don’t look good for his safety. You stop in the middle of the road as you think, suddenly unsure about this whole idea. You’ve got a sword pressed to your back, for the Gods’ sake. 

“I guess that’s what they call us, yes,” he admits, halting when you do. You can feel his statue behind you, unwavering. What now?

“But you’re not?”

This makes him laugh, a bright, chilling sound in the silence of the abandoned island that sounds much too genuine. “Oh no, we definitely are. It just doesn’t sound very nice, does it? ‘Pirates’, like we’re out to hurt every single person in the whole wide world, murder in cold blood. Thief would be kinder, I think.” You can’t help but wonder how sane this man truly is, if he thinks being called a thief would be any better. In old tales, thieves end up with their heads being bitten off in the night. When you still don’t move, Baekhyun presses harder against the sword, urging you forward. “What are you waiting for, little fish? If you want your request fulfilled, you’ll have to move and get your friends.”

“How can I trust that you won’t kill us and take our money?” you bring out, gathering some of your dress in your both hands to step into the long grass.

“You can’t.” Baekhyun sighs deeply, and then hums again, the same tune. After a second of walking, you pause, and turn to face him. “What?” he blinks, staring at you with a teasing look. His eyes are lined with a black that makes them seem sunken in, and almost impossible to read in the darkness. This of course, is true. But you can’t help but feel that if they were planning on killing you, they would’ve done so by now, and twice over. You just hope this man is loyal enough to his Captain to follow the order of bringing you to the ship, alive. You don’t have another choice, or the Royal fleet will leave without you.

You take in a deep breath, and hold back a frown as best as you can. Here goes nothing. “I was going the wrong way, the sword held to my spine must’ve confused me.” At the raise of his eyebrows, you breathe out. “I’m sorry, it’s that way instead.” Baekhyun tilts his head to the side, before shrugging and lowering his sword entirely, a small grin crawling up to his lips, triumphant. He cocks his head to motion you to lead the way again, hands settling around his belt. The casual way in which he does it only seems to prove again that he doesn’t consider you a threat. So either he’s dumb and cocky, or he genuinely has no reason to be worried. You don’t really know which you’d prefer.

You speed your steps a bit as you return in the way you just walked, and towards the house you left your friends at. Baekhyun trails behind leisurely, the gravel crunching under his feet with each step. As you peek around the back of the house, relief fills your body. Sehun is pressed to the wall of the building, his eyes wide as he stares at your sudden appearance. Jongdae lowers his sword and smiles at you, as you let out a breath. “You’re not dead,” Sehun cleverly says, which makes you laugh.

You nod, and let your dress fall back to it’s normal length, smoothing it out with small movements. “Good news, I found us a way to Caryon. Uhm, bad news—” you say, falling silent when Baekhyun shows up beside you, face lit up with curiosity.

“Hi there.” He looks the two men up and down, before huffing a little and putting out his hand toward the sword in the other’s hand. “I’ll take that.” The frown on Jongdae’s face is clear, but he agrees with the man almost instantly. He too seems to know that in this state, he’d lose a duel, even if you have the majority here. “You look to be in seriously bad shape,” he nods in the quartermaster’s direction, taking in the blood stains and the intricate stitchings of the shirt, “and from a much more prestigious ship than a small fisher boat.” A big grin comes to kiss his lips. “You know, you’re a really bad liar,” he says, turning back to you. Jongdae’s sword is slid into his belt, as he motions his own at the three of you to guide you toward the beach. “I guess you’re lucky I worship the Goddess Manto. We’re big enthusiasts of any form of drama, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” you bring out, as you grab Sehun’s arm and trail behind the pirate, who walks backwards toward the beach. Many of the royal palace worship that same goddess, and you are sure to know that they most definitely enjoy a good bit of conflict and theater. The walk down the narrow path happens mostly in silence, with the humming of the leading man carrying through the emptiness of the valley. The island isn’t that big, it seems, because you reach the beach sooner than expected. “I’m sorry to say,” you suddenly begin, hesitating for a second when Jongdae catches your eyes, “but you seem quite casual for a pirate.”

Baekhyun laughs, ringing loud as he walks, and turns back to look at you. “How so?”

“I was under the assumption that pirates were more… ruthless, maybe.” You smile a little when Sehun squeezes your arm under his.

“Would you like me to be?” the raven-haired pirate asks, raising his eyebrows. When you shake your head ‘no’, he smiles. “We are when we need to be, I think. Captain definitely is not one for small talk like I am, I guess you would find him ‘ruthless’ more so then me, in the simple sense of the word. But he doesn’t enjoy suffering as much as I do, either.” When he faces you this time, it’s with a smile that you can only describe as dangerous, one of a person needing desperately to play games. “I like seeing a body curl into unnatural shapes with pain,” he admits. You quiet when he doesn’t say more, and look away from the pirate to glance at the busy back and forth of the indistinguishable shapes near the water edge.

The ship is about as big as you think the May Terror was, though hard to tell from this far away. People are loading large boxes up into it. As you get close enough, you can see the ship in it’s full glory. Though it doesn’t have the same glamour as the royal fleet did, there’s a definite air that surrounds it. Like the ship allows only awe to be pulled from you. The ship is made of dark wood that has grayed in the sun, and giant, white sails. Baekhyun grins as he comes to a stop, poking Jongdae with his sword. “Up, up, my seafaring friend. We’ll have to get you onto the ship without the Captain seeing, after all.”

“Why are you helping us if you’re so against the Capital?” you bring out at that, glaring when he jabs Jongdae between the shoulder blades.

“Well, because I really want to see this thing play out. Long journeys can be so terribly boring when we don’t have captives or any form of entertainment. The rest of them,” motioning at the men that walk around on deck above you, “are just following orders. And the Captain— just hope that he doesn’t find out before we load you off again. Maybe you’ll be able to run off as soon as we board, and just survive it.” With a smile he pushes Jongdae toward the plank, then Sehun and lastly you. As you walk up it, Baekhyun follows close behind, sliding his sword away. “You know… a kiss might make me consider trying harder to keep your secret from coming out, little fish.”

You turn over your shoulder to catch his smug grin, as you send him your hardest death glare. “Don’t dream of it, you sneaky, stealing— lowlife.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “you wound me. Truly.” When you arrive on the deck, people are too busy manning the ship to really pay attention to you, though some eyes follow your group to the back of the ship. They walk around with candles and lanterns, giving just enough light to keep you from running into things. Baekhyun takes one of the candles and tosses open a door nearing the back of the cabin. “Down into there,” he points, to the dark hole that the door opens into. The ladder down is rickety, creaking under Sehun’s feet as he descends. 

You follow, wanting to get away from Baekhyun though not daring to remove your eyes from him. You quickly think of the Captain, and what he might do if he finds out that Jongdae is who he is, or worse, who you are. But then the last of your trio descends and Baekhyun is leading you around in the belly of the ship, past food stocks and even past the beds of crew until you reach a little corner. There’s a small space left there, with ropes and barrels taking up most of the space. “Here we are,” Baekhyun nods, squishing you in one by one, “pleasure having you on board, and thank you for sailing the world’s grandest pirate ship. I do have to tie you up now. Don’t want you getting any ideas, of course. Oh!” He suddenly exclaims, dramatic as ever, “and I need our money.”

You pause for a bit to think, locking eyes with Jongdae and Sehun before nodding. “Alright. We’re paying you half now, and the other half when we arrive in Caryon, safe and unharmed.” When Baekhyun giggles, you swallow, and cross your arms over your chest. “I think that’s only fair, considering our situation. And I’m staying untied, also.” The black haired man cocks his head to the side with a smirk, before looking behind him and back.

“If that makes you feel any better, sure.”

Before you have to ask, Sehun reaches into the bag without taking his eyes off of the pirate, and takes a handful pieces of silver to hand him. “You can try to cheat us or steal from us before we arrive,” he mumbles, “but this is all we have. You’ll be disappointed by your win if you do.” You nod along, watching Baekhyun as he slides the money into his pocket with a smooth move. Now just to hope that he doesn’t take it all for himself. Jongdae seems to be strangely quiet, leaning against the wall with a frown on his handsome visage. Maybe he’s thinking the same you are. A pirate isn’t to be trusted.

“Alright, pretty boy, quiet down. If I wanted to steal from you, you wouldn’t have that bag anymore, or your hands, alright? I won’t keep being as civil as I’ve been if you keep accusing me.” True to his word, he ties each of your arms behind your backs, leaving one of your hands untied. You are all tied to the barrels then, as Baekhyun gives you a small bow. His grin has yet to leave his face, and you can’t help but think that this is his normal expression. With his free hand he gives you a little wave, walking back in the direction of the ladder. “Goodnight, sleep tight, don’t let the rats bite. I’ll see you all in the morning. Or before that, who knows.” With a loud laugh, he climbs back up to the deck, slamming the door shut. It falls into lock with a grinding, metal noise. Most likely a lock of sorts.

When the silence comes for the first time since maybe an hour ago, you slide down the side of the barrel to sit on the floor, grabbing at the bag near your feet. Sehun and Jongdae are already seated, their hands tied tight behind their backs. Poor them. You guess he didn’t feel the need to tie you up because he thinks you can’t fight, and sadly, he’s right in that assumption. Instead of dancing or singing, they should have given you fencing lessons, at least you’d be able to make yourself useful now. “I’ve just doomed all of us, haven’t I,” you breathe, looking at the both of them. Your eyes are still adjusting since Baekhyun left you behind in total darkness.

Sehun opens his mouth to answer, but settles on squeezing your arm softly instead, and rests into you a bit. It must be terrifying to him too, though he doesn’t admit it. Jongdae stays quiet for a long while, like he’s trying to sort through all his thoughts, before finally sighing deeply. “No, you did well. I’ve dealt with pirates before and I was hardly as helpful as you were. I mean, we’re tied up, but on our way to Caryon at the very least. That’s more than we had an hour ago.” Count on him to be full of optimism even in the dark, dim depths of a pirate ship.

“Jongdae?” you call again, waiting for his small hum, “what happens to you if they find out that you’re part of the royal fleet? What if Baekhyun lied, and he’s tells the Captain at this very moment or at any point during the trip? I don’t trust him.” Sehun seems troubled by this thought too. You don’t want anything to happen to him. He saved you before, and even if he didn’t, you’d want him to be okay more than anything.

A tiny smile comes to his lips, but you can tell it’s not very genuine, or self-assured. “I don’t know, Princess. Let’s just hope they don’t find out before we arrive.” When silence falls, every crack of the wood or whisper of the wind sounds loud, and you have a hard time letting go of thoughts. Despite this, the call of sleep catches up to you after a while. In the cold belly of the ship you sleep, resting against Sehun’s shoulder as you sink into a dreamless night.

     🌊🌊🌊     

You’re awoken by the sound of many feet on the deck above, and the faint sigh of the heavy door being pushed open. Cold, salty air blows down into the belly of the ship and fills your lungs, a much needed breath of fresh air. Sehun is already awake when you glance over at him with heavy lids, Jongdae awakening from slumber much like you. “They are coming down,” Sehun mumbles, and he’s right. Heavy boots stomp down the ladder, past the load of food and past the beds. They are coming for you guys.

“We can’t have arrived this soon already,” Jongdae mumbles, which makes your heart sink to your toes. If they’re not here to get you off their ship, then why are they?

Two men drag you up by your tied arms before you can say anything to your friends, yanking you through the rooms under loud mumbling from the other crew, as you struggle to stay upright. They don’t even allow you to climb up yourself entirely, instead dragging you up by your shoulders the last bit. You’re led to the middle of the deck, and pushed down onto your knees without a second thought, with Sehun and Jongdae following the same path. Sehun is dumped down with a harsh shove that sends him on his side, and winces when he lands onto his shoulder. You do your best to help him up with your tied hands, looking around. The waves are wild today, ship anchored in the middle of nowhere. Though the sun is out, the weather is chilly, leaving you with the hairs on your body raised.

Feet click on the wood, shoes decorated with metal that gleams in the first light of the morning. The person halts in front of you three, barely acknowledging you as humans in their own right. Dust blows into your face, but you don’t look away. The man of last night sighs with the same stone cold attitude he carried then, before squatting down and taking a hold of Sehun’s face to yank it up into view. When his stained fingers grab at your friend you clench your teeth, but hold your tongue. Now’s not the time to talk back, you know this. His dark eyes flick to yours for just a second, before he surveys the young man. After a little while, all under the judging eyes of the crew, he moves away from your friend to do the same with Jongdae.

“Tell me,” he clicks his tongue, before looking between all three of you again, “where’s the rest of your men and women?” He trails his finger over the colorful emblem on Jongdae’s shoulder as he waits, but none of you answer. Only the wind can be heard over the rushing of the ocean waves. The small emblem is that of your family, your home so far away by now, it’s yellow and blue clearly recognizable. You don’t know how they found out, but you can only guess that someone talked to the Captain. But as you look around, you don’t see Baekhyun under the men. “Is my question unclear to you?” the man in white breathes, glancing at you with a fire in his eyes, like that of the burning sun.

You curl your legs to the side to push yourself from the wood, and glare back at him. But before you can say much of anything, Jongdae pushes himself up from the deck as sits on his knees, hands still hung uncomfortably behind him. His brow buries deep into his visage, the frown proof of his fighting spirit. “What men and women do you speak of, Sir, that we are supposed to know the location of?” Before he’s able to say any more, the Captain’s leather boot connects with his face. Jongdae collapses back against the deck, head hitting with a sharp thud. He winces, blood dripping on the floor.

You stare at the scene in horror, heart dropping all the way down to toes. “Do I look like I am wanting to play games?” the Captain asks, taking out his sword to twist it in the light of the sun. The sharp metal glints playfully in the beams of morning color. Jongdae just groans, and rolls onto his back, hands trapped under his body. His nose is bleeding, and bottom lip busted because of the impact, face paled. When no one responds, the man standing above you all clicks his tongue in disapproval, and lifts Sehun’s chin with the edge of his sword. The point makes a mark under his jaw, blood dripping down his neck. He trembles, catching your eyes for a flash before looking back at the Captain. And you see the fear in his eyes.

He didn’t want this, Jongdae didn’t want this. Only you did, and look at you now. The dark, cold eyes stay aimed at your best friend’s face for a while. “Tell me. Or I’ll cut into his pretty face over and over and over, until you can’t look at him anymore without feeling terror. Same goes for that capital scum.” Though the Captain doesn’t look at you, you feel the weight of the question on you. Your lip wobbles without your control, so you pull it between your teeth to keep it at bay.

“I don’t know where —” Another sharp kick to Jongdae’s face, this time connecting with his cheekbone so hard you think you hear it crunch. Jongdae’s head falls to the side, eyes flickering with pain and you can’t hold the tears that well up. “I’m sorry, I’m trying!” you yell at the standing man, and glare at him from under your lashes. His eyes are just as cold, though now they are unflinching on yours. His full lips open to let out a sigh, as he places the sole of his shoe on Jongdae’s face. “Just stop! Stop hurting him, he has nothing to do with this,” you repeat. Sehun’s eyes bore into the side of your head when the sword comes to press into your cheek instead, but you don’t look away. Can’t look away.

“I’ll ask one more time.” His deep voice unwavering, filled with a hatred that you can barely comprehend. How can a person have so much darkness inside them towards someone they don’t know? “Why are you traveling with this rat,” he motions toward Jongdae, “and what are you doing on my fucking ship?”

The sword presses hard enough to slice open the skin of your cheek, sharply burning like a fire. You breathe in deeply, and do your best to silence the cries that well up in his throat. But before you can muster up the courage to answer him, Jongdae huffs out a strained laugh. “Don’t.” His soft eyes glide over to you, and despite the blood and blooming bruises that mark his face, he doesn’t look scared. “Let him rot in his doubt.” Everyone quiets. Where before there were soft whispers running between the crew, now there’s a thick void. You look back up to the man dressed in white, taking in his quiet form. In those cold, dark eyes brews a storm that would terrify every mortal soul.

Then, ever so slowly, a smile starts creeping up to his lips, as he meets your eyes again. “Have you ever held a sword before, little girl?” A shiver runs between your shoulder blades at the softness of his voice. Tender almost, like he’s talking to a loved one. You shake your head into a minuscule ‘no’. “A sword is an honorable weapon. It kills quick. When on sea, there’s much more horrible deaths. Starving. Disease. Drowning.” He kneels gently before you, and looks only at you with that same smile that would bring comfort in any other situation. 

Right now, it looks like death itself. “I almost drowned, once. You can’t do anything but sink, holding your breath as long as you can. Longer than you ever have, until you feel like your head is going to burst. You can’t help but hold out until every single part of you quakes in pain. Your head bursting from the pressure. It’s agony. And then, when everything starts to fade, when you can’t hold out anymore, you open your mouth anyway. And it feels like hell. Filling your lungs to the brim, as you choke to death. It’s the longest, most painful death you can imagine.”

Your lips are still shaking. For the second it lasts, he seems truthful, entirely. A deep, suffocating sadness that is pulled from the deepest part of his soul, making it’s way onto his features. And it touches you, despite your anger and your fear. “That’s horrible,” you breathe. Because it is. The Captain nods, staring at you for a beat longer, and then he gets back up to his full height. Towering above you from where you sit motionless on the cold, hard floor. His voice is equally soft as he speaks again. 

“Throw the rat overboard.”

A darkness overtakes you at those words, dread bubbling up from deep inside. You flinch when the crew grabs hold of Jongdae by his arms, and glance between the three men in rapid succession. Blaring fear for the new friend who only wanted to help. The Captain doesn’t move a muscle when you look at him. The quartermaster now looks scared more than you’ve ever seen him, jerking in their hold as they drag his towards the edge. He fights with all his might, but to no avail, ignoring his words. They lift him over the wooden railing, and— “Stop!” you scream, “take me instead!” Your free hand wraps around the Captain’s ankle, grabbing his attention whether he wants it or not. The crew waits, Jongdae dangling halfway over. “It’s me you want, believe me. Throw me overboard instead. Please. I’m begging you.”

Finally, a sliver of emotion crosses his face, a frown pulling his eyebrows close together. “Did you not hear what I said? That right there is the most painful death you can imagine.”

“I heard you,” you say, letting go of his leg now to wipe your hand under your eyes, glancing over your shoulder at the bloodied face of Jongdae. He looks about ready to pass out from the stress and pain that he’s been put through. So you pull up your nose, and rub your eyes with the back of your hand again, staring into the Captain’s face. “And it sounds terrifying. But I don’t want anyone else to hurt because of me.” Sehun makes a noise of disagreement, but a hand comes over his mouth to shut him up, much to his displeasure. “You want Jongdae because he is of the Royal fleet, right? But I’m the Royal blood that fleet was carrying,” you admit. Sehun’s shoulders sag.

In one smooth motion, you’re pushed backward against the deck, sword back at your neck. The Captain’s eyes glint with anger, jaw tight as he looks you straight in the eye, your cheeks still red and burning up. This is the most emotion you’ve seen cross his face yet, anger dripping from him like tar. “What are you doing on a ship?!” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they might shatter.

You smile pitifully, the open wound on your cheek pulling with the motion. “I wanted to see the world. Just once.” The wind whistles as it blows between the creaks in the wood, ocean waves slamming against the belly of the ship again and again, as you wait. Your breathing unsteady, heart slamming painfully hard against your rib cage. The metal gleams a pretty shade of orange under the rising sun, that you choose to watch instead of looking at the man above you.

After what feels like forever, the silence is finally broken. From the back of the group of men, a voice sounds out, strangely familiar. “They’d probably pay a nice sum if we bring her back unharmed, Captain.” Baekhyun moves from between the taller, burly men to reveal his sharp face, a slight smile on his lips as he catches the recognition on your face. His raven hair is damp, curling slightly as it falls over his eyes. His steps are smooth as he walks closer, not disturbed in the slightest by the hostile posture his Captain carries. His sword is still pressed to your neck. “I’m not sure about you, but I’d rather have her weight in silver than another stain to clean, Kyungsoo.” His grin only widens as he reaches forward, hand wrapping around the blade and slowly dragging it away from you.

“You dare push me too far, Baekhyun. I’m your Captain.” The man in white only sighs, before straightening and letting the sword drop from his hands into the other man’s, not acknowledging you in the slightest.

“Aye, but you’re also my best friend. So with all due respect, Captain,” the man grins so wide at the word that you barely believe he means it at all, “let me play devil’s advocate for once. If we bring this little fish to Caryon unscathed, we’ll be richer than we are now, and isn’t that what you told me pirates do? Rob the rich, give to the poor, more of that inspirational nonsense.” He squeezes his friend’s shoulder, the other already turning his back on you and walking between the crew, who plop Jongdae back down on the deck. 

“I’m the murderous, crazy one of us two. You’re the smart one.” The Captain, Kyungsoo, shakes his head at his friend’s antics, but clearly the words hit home in some way. When you let out a relieved sigh, Baekhyun grins down at you and pulls you back up to a seated position. Kyungsoo waves his hand dismissively, telling his men something that makes them spread out, as the dark haired one in front of you calls after him. “If they don’t give us a high enough price, you can still get your revenge! Drown her in a bathtub for all I care.” You’re not sure if he means it or not. It doesn’t matter, relief fills you all the same.

“Get back to work, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo responds, before disappearing into the cabin.

Baekhyun’s eyes glide from you, to Sehun, to Jongdae, all three of you slumped onto the deck from the stress. With two fingers, he brushes a loose strand away from your face. “There, there.” He stays squatted in front of you for a bit too long, staring down at you with those same gleeful, flickering eyes, like he doesn’t see the absolute terror you just went through as a bad thing. But still, he takes the flask of water you didn’t know he had, wetting a piece of fabric to press it to your cheek. Then he walks over to Jongdae, to cut loose his binds and helps him up, doing the same for Sehun. Some of the crew glance at you three while they work, but none seem surprised by Baekhyun’s behavior, which only serves to heighten your confusion.

As you stand up, you notice the sun has risen entirely above the sea now, gold and peach tones filling the sky. Your legs are shaky still, but you’re alive. And so are both men you came with. As soon as you realize this fully, you rush to embrace Sehun. His long arms come around you just as easily, breath still shaky against your cheek. He holds you for a long while, before stepping back to check your injury. You look over at Jongdae then, who has a grateful smile on his lips, holding himself up against the railing. And Baekhyun— he just stares at you and your best friend with an interest that you can only see as foreign. Like he’s watching a fascinating animal in it’s natural habitat. Still, when you catch his eyes, you bow at him. “Thank you, Baekhyun.”

The man smiles, before tossing the flask towards you. You catch it, just barely. “I didn’t do it for you.” He bows back the slightest bit, before disappearing the same way Kyungsoo went. Leaving the three of you behind in confusion, as the day truly begins.

You haven’t seen Baekhyun or the Captain again, since they entered the cabin. Something you are grateful for, now that the shock has worn off. Sehun helped Jongdae back down into the belly of the ship not much after, to clean him up and settle him into rest. And while he wanted to stick close by you, you asked him to keep an eye out for Jongdae instead. He got the much shorter end of the stick after all. Now, with the sun still rising, the clean air has been abandoned by most for wine and music below deck. You run your hand over the railing as you walk the length of the ship, stilling once you get to the very front. In a couple of hours, you’ll arrive on the small island of Caryon. You hope to see some familiar faces soon, Lilith, or Cato, or anyone else.

The sea, though loud and wild earlier, has now settled into a softer shape, crashing open into millions of tiny droplets. You take a deep breath of the salty air, and lean your top half onto the wood, letting your arms dangle. Your body is tired, and muscles uncomfortable in their stretch. Your mind can’t help but wander, settling back to your home, to your father, mother, siblings. If they ever caught news of all that you’ve been through, they’d never let you set another foot outside the palace. Understandable in a way. You’re their precious gem, you know this. They would, however, protect you with everything they have. Some people, like Jongdae don’t have such luxury. For maybe the first time in years, you notice the true advantage of your position.

It reminds you of the one other time you realized it. You were still young, barely half your height now, and out with your older sister. A bright day, perfect for going for a walk, though unlike much of the kids in Aking, you had to be under tight surveillance. While walking down the stairs toward the river, a group of giggling children rushed by you, in the middle of their own game. In the mess, an even smaller girl ran straight into you, falling backwards because of the impact. She tumbled down several stairs, sitting up with a small hand pressed against her head and tears in her big eyes. But instead of helping her, your royal guard demanded an apology from the poor thing. And she did, with the most sorry expression you’d ever seen on a person.

Now, it strikes you again. Jongdae almost died in your place, and for what. You let out another sigh, before standing up. From the corner of your eye, you can make out a shape behind you, scaring you into the corner. You almost lose your balance from the shock. The Captain regards you with a blank expression, wearing a soft blue, long-sleeve shirt in place of his white jacket now. Despite the softer appearance, he still carries the same darkness on his face. At your unmoving state, he clenches his jaw a tad. When he takes a step forward, you take one back, his frown deepening. “I’ve hurt you once today, I think that’s enough.” He lifts his hands, to reveal a bottle with a murky, brown liquid. “I’m going to clean up that cut.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you snap back, almost rolling your eyes. He gave you the damned cut.

Kyungsoo just stares at you for a moment, before taking a few steps in your direction with raised hands, like you’re a rabid animal ready to strike. He has the same deep line digging between his brows every time he looks your way, only fading slightly when you cross your arms over your chest. The small jewels of your corset dig into your skin that way. “Baekhyun is helping your … friend,” he sighs, “he can’t help you right now. If you don’t clean the wound it will infect and fester.” Though you want to argue that he doesn’t care either way, you choose to look away instead. In a way, he probably does care. If you’re damaged, he might not get his money after all.

Kyungsoo steps up onto the higher ledge to stand a few feet away, and opens the bottle. A strong, alcoholic smell comes with it, making you pull up your nose. “Turn this way,” he motions. You turn your head towards the other end of the ship, as he pours some of the stuff on a rag. As a frown comes to rest on your face, he shakes his head. “This is all we have for cleaning wounds. Luckily, I don’t see a need for stitches.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have cut me at all,” you mumble, gaze on the wooden boards beneath your feet.

His eyes narrow at you as he lifts the rag to your face. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too nonchalant about my help. You’re on my ship, surrounded by my crew, under my rules.” A pause, and then he looks out from the ocean to you. “It’ll sting,” he says, as he drags the rag over your cut. It does burn like hell, and you have to bite your lip to keep from cursing something. Two good brushes of the rag before he takes it away, and walks down the ledge to go back towards the cabin. His steps rhythmic on the planks. After a second, he stops in place to turn around, and looks at you once more. “Don’t mistake my curiosity for kindness. I’m a lot of things and kind isn’t one of them.” You scoff. Yeah, you’ve noticed. It doesn’t seem to bother him. “Where was the fleet going to take you?” he questions, and for the first time the dark shadow on his face clears.

You hesitate for a second, before uncrossing your arms and swallowing. For some reason, you find it strange that he would ask. There’s barely any cities that far north, that the Royal fleet would fare to. Only a few have trading accords with the Capital. The other ones aren’t seen as important, and you barely know a thing about them. So, you answer him truthfully. “We were going to Elyfhil.” The Captain nods in response, expression barely changing. Yet, staring back at him like this, his face looks softer at the admission. “I read it’s the loveliest city in the world. Have you ever been there?”

“Born there,” he says, frown climbing back to it’s place on his features. “It’s a miserable place, really. Always cold, many old, abandoned houses, a lot of poverty and a lot of rich people abusing power.” He shakes his head though, and lifts his shoulders, as the ghost of a smile tugs at his mouth corner. “I guess someone like you wouldn’t find it miserable though. After all, you’ll never be one of the poor suckers struggling to feed their family.” The words hit your skin like a knife, leaving you with an open mouth and too little words coming out of it. “Go back indoors now, the wind is picking up.”

He walks away without waiting for your reply, as you follow his retreating shape with your eyes. You can’t even say anything in return, because to your surprise, you find yourself agreeing. You’ll never be one of the people who need help the most.

The sound of people is surprisingly loud, not only on the ship itself but from around it. There’s sound of vendors and merchants, but also children playing around the port. Sadly, you can’t see much of the small town of Caryon since the three of you are tied together around the mast and with your backs facing each other. And even if you could escape, you wouldn’t be able to get far without Sehun or Jongdae’s help. Most of the pirates went to land long ago, leaving you under the surveilling eye of a big man with a grimy beard and large hoop earrings. He doesn’t seem to speak Home Tongue, since he’s ignored every one of your pleads for water. After even more waiting in the smoldering sunlight that beams down on you without stop, people finally come back. You can only hope the Royal fleet was willing to pay off a group of pirates.

Baekhyun is the first one back on deck, with nimble movements as he hoists himself and two large bags over the wooden guardrail that protects you from the water. His dark hair messier than ever, but partly clipped back with a golden pin. He tosses the heavy looking bags to the side, before skipping over to the three of you with a smile. His dark eyes shining silver as he crouches in front of you. “Do you like my pin? I got it to match yours.” He tilts his head more into your view then, revealing the intricate details of a gold-threaded dragon that you recognize immediately. It’s yours, one you left on the ship when you had to flee. Baekhyun sees the recognition in your eyes, and giggles. “Seems like you really are from the royal fleet, huh. They sold some of your stuff but I’m guessing most of it is still on board.”

“They— no, wait, who sold you this?” you fumble, watching him stand again. The rest of the crew is already pouring back on board, carrying various crates and sacks. “Did you find the Royal fleet? Did they give you the money?” Baekhyun doesn’t answer your questions. He walks towards the cabin with a spring in his step. “What in Idite’s name…” you sigh, feeling Sehun’s fingers wrap around your hand and holding it in support.

“I’m sure they found them,” he mumbles back, his shoulder pressed to your own, “Captain Lilith wouldn’t just let us sit here. Right, Jongdae?” There’s a non-committal sound from the quartermaster. “As soon as she hears word of your being on the ship, she’ll come and get you, Princess. Have no worry.” Though his comforting words help to calm your heart, there’s part of you that doubts this notion. After all, any pirate could say they have someone of value on board. Who would believe a bunch of thieves without a shred of proof?

Not much later, the Captain comes on board too, hopping over the railing easily. He straightens his jacket, before giving an order to the men behind him. You’re too far away to hear. After a second, his eyes meet yours though, deep orbs scanning you up and down a few times. It sends an uncomfortable feeling to your stomach, you don’t enjoy being viewed as cargo. He grabs the shoulder of one of the pirates, and cocks his head towards the three of you. “We’re sailing back out, so get into the nest. When we’re about an hour out, you can let them out of their binds. They won’t be able to run elsewhere.”

When he turns to walk away, most likely to steer the ship, you lean forward and clear your throat. “Captain Kyungsoo!” Several of the men turn to look at you, but don’t say anything. “Could we get some water, please? We’ve been sitting in the sun for hours.” When he turns to look at you, he lifts an eyebrow, before clicking his tongue in disapproval. His hands come to rest at his belt, where the sharp sword that was pressed to your throat just this morning still hangs easily, next to two smaller knives.

“Any requests can go to Baekhyun,” he sighs, sounding most fed up you’ve ever heard him. You want to ask about the fate of you and your friends, but judging his expression, now is not the best of times to ask. “He’s been put in charge of your well-being.” Said man comes from around the corner with a grin that makes his cheeks cutely round, already waving a water bottle back and forth nonchalantly. Kyungsoo whispers him something as they cross, but doesn’t acknowledge you any further. He merely shakes his head, and walks toward the helm, to steer the ship without having to see you three. You huff when he disappears, and watch the last of the men pull the anchor of the ship up. Four of them, straining to get the giant metal onto deck. Baekhyun hums as he approaches, pressing the bottle against Sehun’s lips and pouring without thinking twice.

Half of the water runs down the sides of his mouth and almost in his nose, but the pirate clearly doesn’t care. “Drink up, buttercup!” he grins, waddling to Jongdae next. The man has been mostly quiet since you’ve arrived on Caryon. It doesn’t sit well. Jongdae, out of you three, has been the most optimistic the entire trip. Even when you were floating out in the middle of nowhere, he had a smile on his lips and a spring in his step that brought you an immense feeling of calm, despite the hopeless situation. You can only guess what’s going on in his head. When the quartermaster has had his fill, Baekhyun settles in front of you, and motions at you to open your mouth.

The water is cool, even when it slips down your lips and drops from your chin. Two gulps, and then the bottle is pulled away. Though you glare at him from under your lashes, Baekhyun beams down at you with a smile. You still can’t get over the strange feeling you have around him, even with the kindness he’s shown you. There’s just something— that feels off about him. “What is happening now, Baekhyun?” you ask. You can feel the ship moving again, the sails curved into half moons in the wind. “You didn’t find the Royal fleet, did you?”

At the very last, the artificial grin slips off, revealing for the first time ever a slight frown on his handsome face. It stays silent for a long while, before Baekhyun leans a bit closer, face uncomfortably close to yours. He truly must not understand what personal space is. “You didn’t tell me you got attacked by pirates before. I thought we were friends, and friends tell each other things.” Holding your tongue for a moment, you look at him. His eyes are tense, lips set into a straight line, like whatever he found out genuinely bothers him and for this moment only do you truly feel for him. But then he leans back and cocks his head, smiling. The chance is instant, if you had blinked you would’ve missed it. “There’s no problem, little fish. Just a change of plans.”

You frown, but nod. “Well, I would have told you, but I thought whoever attacked us must have been part of your men. I take it that assumption is wrong?”

Baekhyun grins, before tapping his hand softly against your injured cheek, ignoring your wince entirely. “You do have some brains in that pretty head of yours, after all. A bad liar, but not useless.” He jumps back to his feet to put the bottle into a bunched stack of thick ropes, and then stretches out. “You’ll all be staying with us for a bit longer. You see, the Captain has decided that he really wants that coin you’ll make us, so I’m not allowed to play with any of you. But it seems the Royal fleet has been split up. One of the ships was taken by the Red Skulls, and they are on their merry way to capture the other two as well. With on board, our money. So you see how this becomes a problem for us. If the Red Skulls take the fleet before we can, there won’t be anyone left to pay us off.”

“How do you know all this?” Sehun asks, unable to look at Baekhyun but listening intently nevertheless.

The raven-haired pirate just shrugs. “I have charms, getting people to talk isn’t hard.”

For the first time in a few hours, you finally hear Jongdae’s voice as well. “Did they say anything about the crew?” But Baekhyun doesn’t answer, which is the most telling answer of all. His lips purse though, and he turns away from you to look out at the no doubts vanishing island, as if he doesn’t want to face the disappointment in Jongdae’s eyes. All you can do is touch your fingertips to the man’s bound hands, unsure of what to say. When Baekhyun turns back to you, he lets out a deep breath, and rubs his black-stained hands under his eyes.

“They have a few hours on us, but our ship is much faster. We’re going to take that ship before it can get to Elyfhil.”

“And what about us,” you question, running it over in your head. If they can take back the ship with that much ease, surely, they don’t need to deliver you back to get the money they so eagerly ache for. If anything, I’d be easier to just get rid of you all together, and take the remaining ships as well. Baekhyun takes out his sword as you talk, planting it into the wood between your feet. “The way I see it you have no good reason to keep us around. You’re going to get your money, you’re going to get your revenge. You’ll probably even get to stab a few guys along the way.”

He chuckles, before leaning forward onto the sword to look straight into your eyes. “Aye, but you forgot to tell us some really important things before, didn’t you? The first ships of the royal fleet, those that weren’t taken yet? They were looking for something more valuable than coin.” His eyes glint knowingly, the same dangerous smile curving onto his face like a shadow. “They were looking for a lost guard, and the Queen’s daughter. Now what are the odds of that?”

“You think I’m the Queen’s daughter?” you scoff.

“No, little fish,” Baekhyun shakes his head the tiniest bit, before answering, “we know you are.”

     🌊🌊🌊     

It’s been a day. A whole day, you’ve been locked up in the small wine storage they cleared out as a cell. You’ve burned through six candles, since the tiny window that sits right below the ceiling is constantly blocked by water gushing past. At least you’re able to use your hands again, and look your friends in the eye. This has given you plenty of time to think, too. Something limited only slightly by the alcoholic fumes you’ve been breathing in. Sehun sits slumped against the wall across from you. “We could try and pry loose one of these boards, and jam it into the keyhole to open the door. Then, we sneak past the crew once they are asleep, and we knock out the captain. Then we either sail straight ahead towards the city, or we turn us back around to Caryon. Either would work, really.”

You snort, unable to help it. His ideas have been getting more and more ridiculous by the minute. “You almost lost your finger pushing it into the lock earlier, Master Sehun. I think we’ve all seen enough of that for the rest of our trip.” Jongdae is stood against the wall next to you, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes the sharpest of all of you yet. You guess he’s more used to the wine than you are. His lip is still swollen, cut right through the middle and looking very painful. “And even if we got out of this room, we’re still on the ship with a couple dozen pirates who won’t hesitate to stab us.”

“Stab me and Jongdae, you mean. They are not going to stab a Princess.”

You stretch out your leg to deliver a tap to his shin, your friend jumping out of the way with a smile. At least someone’s still seeing the fun in all this. You shake your head at him, and sigh. “What happens to you, will happen to me as well. I’m not letting any of you get hurt in my stead. Not again.” It’s strange to think that less than a week ago, you were still in the innocent belief that this would be a fun experience. Jongdae’s hand is soft on your arm, his smile strained against his injury but genuine all the same. You wave him off, when he mouths a ‘thank you’. “We’re not going to escape here any time soon, is all I’m saying,” you finish, pressing your back against the coarse wood behind you.

It stays silent for a bit, before Jongdae clears his throat. “Actually, that isn’t that bad of an idea.” Your eyes are wide when you glance at him over your shoulder, and see that he means it. Never mind, Jongdae doesn’t handle wine well at all. He’s gone completely crazy. When you laugh, the quartermaster takes hold of your hand. “No, listen, Princess! We could take the ship from the inside out!”

“How in the Gods’ names would we do that?!” you respond, glancing between the two clearly irrational men that are locked in this shed with you.

“Well, Baekhyun is right. They know who you are, they know they are right and how much the Capital can pay to have you back unharmed. Meaning, you’re relatively safe around them, even though they don’t look at all like the caring types.” Jongdae speaks with so much conviction, that you almost believe him. “Second, and please excuse my crudeness, your Highness; but you’re an desirable young girl, if anyone can get close to the Captain, it’s you.”

You just blink at him. “You’ve gone insane, Jongdae. Truly!”

“I hate to be against your judgement, Princess Y/N, but I think the Quartermaster is right.” Your disbelieving gaze snaps to your best friend at that, mouth dropping open. He cannot be serious. “You’re the only girl on a ship full of men, and you cannot be harmed under their care. That is the perfect moment to use your womanly charm, and enchant the Captain into your trust.”

Jongdae nods. “If he trusts you enough, maybe you’ll be able to enter the cabin. You can steal the key, and then when night comes, we can sneak out and lock the men beneath deck. I can take the wheel from there, and we’d only have to deal with the captain, which is us three against one.” He runs his hands through his hair, and nods. The faith they have in your abilities would be a compliment, if not for the fact that Captain Kyungsoo scares you more than a tad. “It’s quite a good plan, your Highness. But we need you to be willing, of course.”

“That is, assuming the Captain wants to be charmed at all! I don’t know if you’ve yet noticed, but he’s not the most jolly of individuals,” you argue, with wild, frustrated hand movements. “Let’s just assume that he did, in fact, have an interest in me past the monetary value he sees me as, then I have to convince him to let me into the cabin without him, and steal a key that I don’t know what it looks like. And then what?! Say we do get to Elyfhil without any further issues, what do we do with them then?” Sehun seems entirely too amused by your worry, so you take off your shoe to toss it at him, only missing his face by a hair. Jongdae, for the first time in a while, smiles as well.

“We have a few weeks to figure it out,” Sehun grins, giddy at the idea and all you can do is glare at him in response. “This is pretty much the only plan we have, Princess. But fear not, for I have faith in your abilities.” Stupid boys. Stupid, idiotic boys with their stupid plans.

When night falls, your head falls into an tired rest on Jongdae’s shoulder, with the last flickering light of the candle dimming into darkness. The wood creaks around you, ship waving back and forth smoothly on the face of the sea. Your lids are so heavy, and soon you’re falling into an unsteady sleep.

The sea is calm, smooth like a mirror to the sky, as the ship cuts through it. The water reflects yellows and soft pinks, cold filling your lungs as you wait. The figure stands at the very front of the ship, looking out over the sea with gentle, rhythmic breaths. Calm. ‘Captain Kyungsoo?’ you breathe at the shape, watching him as he turns over his shoulder to look at you. Face dusted a soft pink, he smiles. A kind smile, one that fills you with joy and you can’t help but return the gesture a tenfold. ‘There you are, I was waiting for you for a long time,’ he says, motioning you up onto the ledge. You do, feel his hand in yours as support, while he leads you to stand in front of him. His sturdy figure close to yours, pointing out at the sea. ‘A bit further and we’ll arrive at the shore. Just past the fog you see there, there’s trees as tall as giants, white beaches with sand finer than the finest thread. Woods, for miles and miles. You’ve always wanted to see it, haven’t you?’ Your nod is gentle, but genuine. You have. He rests his chin on your shoulder then, breath brushing over your exposed skin. ‘I wish we could see it together. I wish you could explore it all, with me.’ ‘But we can’t. Can we, Princess?’ You can’t move. You want to turn to look at him, you really do, but you can’t move. Unable to move a single muscle. Unable to speak. You can only watch the undisturbed ocean, and feel the soft brush of his hand against your fingers. ‘We can’t, because you lied to me. You’ve been lying to me the whole time, and now everything is ruined. Did I deserve it? Did I deserve to be a pawn in your royal game?’ ‘Y/N?’

“Y/N.”

A hand wraps around your wrist, shaking you up and awake at once, eyes wide. Small beads of sweat gather at your hairline, your cheeks glowy, bright red. “Wake up, Princess,” Sehun breathes, his large hand still gently wrapped around your arm. You blink a few times, before pushing yourself up from the uncomfortable position you’re sat in. “You’re glowing.” You look around to see the same small space, though the door is open, and Jongdae is nowhere to be seen.

“Where are we?” you breathe, rubbing your warm hands over your cheeks in circles. They are very hot indeed.

Sehun lets go of you once your stable on your feet, and smiles. “Still aboard the ship, Princess. But we’ve been allowed out, we’re too far away from land to escape, it seems. I think you need some fresh air, you were overheating in here.” You nod, and swallow. Your throat is dry, tongue sponge-like. Your friend watches you intently, before lifting his brows. “Are you okay? You look out of it.”

“I’m fine, Master Sehun,” you respond, peeking out of the door into the dark belly of the ship. You need some fresh air. As you walk, the tall man follows close behind. That must have been a dream. It can’t have been anything but a dream, yet it felt so real. Your breathing is still strained, only evening out once you get out of the confined space of the ship. The ship creaks loudly, under the busy movement of the crew. Jongdae is sitting on the railing further up, letting his legs dangle. He looks so casual, despite the worried expression he carries. You feel his worry. Sehun’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder after a second, where he returns with a cup, ordering you to drink with the most gentle voice anyone has ever given an order.

You sigh when you catch his eyes. “Listen, Hun… I know that you’re putting all your hope on this plan,” you lean a bit closer to say the last word, “but I have a really bad feeling about it. As in, I don’t think we should go through with it.” Your friend doesn’t try to hide his surprise, mouth dropping open slightly. “I know that we should try— but I don’t think I can. I’m hardly as charming as you seem to believe I am, I’m stubborn and a little bit too snappy for my own good sometimes. I can’t… make a random man suddenly like me. He’ll see right through it!”

The dark haired man bites his lip in thought. “I don’t think he will, Princess. After all, he did clean your cut out of his own volition, did he not?” You let out a tense breath, and pout up at him, making Sehun’s face flood with a certain joy. You should both know that he only did that not to carry damaged goods aboard. Sehun seems to purposefully ignore that part. “If you really don’t want to, then don’t. But you know as well as we do that there’s nothing more we can plan. We’re outnumbered by a tenfold. The only way to get anywhere is to gain a bit of their trust or even respect.”

“And what if I don’t think they deserve to be lied to so?” you bring out, wringing your hands together in the soft, pink fabric of your dress. There’s no other clothes aboard, so you’ve been in the same dress for days.

At this your friend just stares at you, disbelief in his eyes. “They are pirates, Princess!”

“I know, I know that,” you sigh, “I know that I’m looking too much into it but…” 

Before your friend can say anything in response, a shout comes from behind you. “Little fish!” the voice beams, bright and too loud for even your sunny disposition. Sehun just lifts his shoulders, as confused as you are when you turn. Baekhyun’s bright features cut through the bustle easily. “Come over here, please.” He waves you over with a happy grin, and places his hands on his hips. “Or Princess Little fish, I should say!” You huff out a tense breath, but walk over, and tilt your head at him in question.

“What do you want?” you say.

Your defiance delights him endlessly, every time. You can see it in the way his cheeks seem to get even wider, if possible. “Don’t be rude now.” You glare at him in return. “You’re all worked up I see,” he beams, and takes your hand smoothly in his own to lead you around, “but I’ll get you even more worked up! Captain has sent me to get your pretty self to join us for lunch. He worries about your well-being every second! Isn’t he the kindest?” You can only imagine the tiniest truth hidden behind his words, and decide to ignore the rest. This man really knows how to get under someone’s skin like a rash. You pull your hand from his, but walk alongside him.

“What’s the purpose behind this sudden lunch invitation if I may ask?”

A playful hum comes from him, as he pinches your side. “No reason~” Baekhyun sings, only adding more fuel to your worry. As you near the door, you sigh, glancing back at Sehun just once. You can’t deny that the setup to the plan is being handed to you on a silver platter at this very moment. Your friend gives you a tense smile, and puts up his thumbs toward you. Though it frustrates you beyond belief, you know as well as your two friends that any other means of escaping will be as good as impossible. You’re more than a week away from your destination. You tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear when Baekhyun leans around you to open the door, and swallow your hesitance. You can at least give it a try.

The silence that lingers in the room between each sentence is deafeningly uncomfortable. You lay your hands next to your plate, and drum your nails on the smooth wood of the table. It’s a miracle that this ship even floats, with the amount of heavily decorative furniture occupy the cabin. You’re sat across from the Captain, whose seat remains empty for now, while Baekhyun sits at the head of the table. “Would you like some water?” the deep voice calls from across the room, broad back facing you.

You don’t respond, unsure of what to say. After all, what could he possibly want from you that requires lunch to precede it? You will yourself to remember that these men, however charming, are still pirates. Pillagers, murderers, thieves. They take what they want, when they want it. The only reason you’re still alive is because they have a use for you. You have to remember that. The Captain glances back at you with a frown, and places a glass of water in front of you anyway, mouth corners turned down. “I’m not usually this attentive to my captives,” he mumbles, as he takes his seat across yours. “Your pride is going to give out before I start caring, so drink while you still get to.”

“Maybe I won’t drink anymore for this entire journey,” you bite back, unable to help it. You don’t understand this man, and it frustrates you to no end. He invites you to lunch, but threatens you basically the second you’re in his presence, and calls you his captive. “Then I will die of sickness and you won’t get any riches at all.” The darkness on his face flickers like a flame over his gaze, playful but unwavering, though his frown grows deeper if possible.

“Then die, Princess.” He takes a drink from his own glass, before slumping back in the plush of the chair. “If that is the way your Highness chooses to go, by all means, be my guest.” Your jaw stays locked hard together, eyes on his expression. But he’s not looking at you anymore, like the sight of you disgusts him. His handsome face aimed solely at the table, or the wall behind you, but not on your face. You almost wish he’d at least have the guts to stare you in the eye when he talks to you, but in truth, that might just anger you further. “You speak of your life so easily, like you’d be willing to give it up for anything and anyone.”

“I would,” you say, full in this notion. You don’t feel the need to lie, since your truth is much more to you than just a way you were raised. You believe in it, fully and from the bottom of your heart. Not that he’d understand, you think, watching the nonchalant way he twirls the small knife between his fingers. Baekhyun, meanwhile, has been the most quiet you’ve ever seen him. Your bottom lip juts out a bit as you continue. “It’s my duty to protect my people, and I take that role very seriously.”

At this the Captain scoffs, loudly, grinning at the ceiling in disbelief. For two full heartbeats, it stays quiet, and you can feel the anger in your body bubbling over. Forget charming this man, maybe you’ll just launch over the table and strangle him instead. But when he finally looks at you again, you don’t see the gloating expression you’re expecting. Instead, there’s a distinct sadness that settles in his features, brushed gently over his face. The face of sorrow, and loss. “Have you ever even seen death before, Princess? Sickness? Excruciating hunger and pain?” He shakes his head at you. “Because if you are willing to give your life so easily, I don’t believe you have.”

The tenseness of your body ebbs out with the long breath you let out. “Then don’t believe it. I have. Not me, and not my close relatives. Because I was as fortunate as to be born into a position of power and money.” He doesn’t respond. But your lips shake slightly as you continue. “But I think I’ve seen more death than you have, Captain. Whenever I can, I sneak out of the palace to visit the temples, and after that the doctor houses. Orphanages. I see people pray to every God they know of to heal their family members. I watch them wither away as I hold their hand, cold in their beds. I read stories to those poor children who’ve lost everything and it’s true… I am healthy, because I get fed every day, and because I can pay the best medics.” You swallow, removing your eyes from his to stare into your glass. “But do you think I don’t feel it? I am the only one standing tall between people who see death as a constant. People put their faith in me, their hope, their dreams, they give them all to me because I was born a princess and yet, I can’t do a single thing to save them!

“So yes, I want to give my life for the people I care about, because that is the only thing I can do to help,” you say, clenching your trembling hands in your dress. “I’m not sorry for giving my one life away for the values I believe in. At least I don’t kill for enjoyment.” You’re not sure what the man is thinking, but you’ve had about enough, and lunch hasn’t even started yet. You push your chair back and stand, ready to walk out of here. Tell your friends that you’d just have to sit it out. You and the Captain are just too different, there’s no way you’d ever get along. But then fingers wrap around your arm, pulling you back, and your feet falter as if automatic. Baekhyun’s grip on you is tight, long fingers locked around your wrist.

“Stay,” he says, face void of the familiar grin you’ve learned to anticipate on him, and it makes you hesitate. “Kyungsoo is not a man of many words. He doesn’t talk much, and when he does, it often comes out too harsh. But we might all have some things in common, Princess.” His eyes are clear on yours, mouth pulled in a soft line. “So sit back down, please.” You huff, but do so, not looking across the table again. One of the men soon enters with a pot of soup, and places it on the table. You all eat in silence, something you’re not used to, but at this moment you’re glad for the bit of peace. When Baekhyun finishes his plate in record speed, the Captain sends him a look.

“Baekhyun, would you please check up on our other two guests for a moment?” The other nods, and leaves the room without another word. You wonder which of the two really wanted this lunch. From the way Baekhyun held your arm, it seems to suggest… but then why? The Captain pauses for a moment, before linking his hands together on the table. “I trust that Baekhyun has been looking out for your well-being sufficiently?”

You bite your bottom lip, but nod. “He has been trying his hardest, I think.” The Captain agrees wordlessly, and chooses to watch you instead. His sharp, calculating gaze is entirely distracting. You play with your cutlery for a moment, but are unable to keep quiet anymore. “Whatever the reason for this dinner, I don’t think I—”

“I wanted to apologize for my impertinence toward you throughout this trip,” the Captain cuts in, his strong voice filling the cabin easily. Definitely now it’s just the two of you, it seems to tremble through the fibers of the wood.

“Do— w-wait, what?” you stutter, eyes wide, “Apologize?”

“Yes.” His handsome face is aimed solely on you yet again, and this time, your cheeks heat under his gaze. You’re absolutely confused now. Kyungsoo tilts his head a bit when you don’t immediately respond, and continues. “I was harsh in my punishment, and I’ve come to understand you’ve been quite polite towards me for it in return. I wanted to…” he pauses, and for the first time to this point, he looks unsure of his words. Like you’re the one who might shut him down. But, you’re still too starstruck by the apology to make out anything else. Who in the history of -ever- has gotten a pirate of all people to apologize to them, out of choice? “I want to promise that I will not cause you harm again, Princess.”

Your mouth drops open at that. You’re starting to think you’re currently still having a fever dream and that you’re still locked up in the wine cellar, imagining all of this. You don’t even really care if he has an alternative motive, which he most likely has. That makes two of you, then. “Thank you,” you mumble, finishing the last of your soup quickly. Then, you look around the room, this time out of genuine curiosity. On the wall facing you, hangs a giant map, with thin, blue lines of ink marking a spider web across it. They must have all been sailing together for a long time, if they’ve seen all those places in their relatively short lives. You bite your cheek, and slowly breathe in. “Can I ask you a question, Captain Kyungsoo?” He nods.

“You’ve traveled a lot, right?” Again, he gives you a nonverbal response. “Do you believe in mermaids? I know they are most likely just stories,” you smile despite your hesitance, “but I’ve always wondered. They seem so fascinating!” This pulls a quirk from his full lips, turning them up at the corners, ever so gently. “Don’t laugh! My aunt, the third Queen, swears on her life that they are real. I just have to know, it’s been eating me up inside. And even if you haven’t seen them yet, doesn’t mean they can’t exist. You haven’t sailed the entire world yet.” You cross your arms over your chest when his smile grows, turning his smile into the shape of a heart, full and warm. It’s a foreign sight on his otherwise serious face.

“They are real,” he nods, smoothing his expression back into one of indifference, but you can see the twinkle in his eyes as he looks at you.

You brush your strand of hair back behind your ear, before shaking your head. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” This makes the man giggle, a sound that surprises you so that you freeze in place. It makes him look so much younger, painting such true joy into him that you can’t help but join in. “I would’ve believed you!” you whine, pushing your plate forward a bit in protest.

“They are real,” he repeats, eyes crinkled into half moons because of his wide cheeks. “There’s an island, far up north where the water is as cold as ice, but it doesn’t freeze. And there, in the water, you can see them swimming around. I swear it, they are real.”

You stop laughing when he does, and lean forward. “Are they pretty?”

“No,” the Captain breathes, “they are very ugly. With thick, grey scales all over, and sunken in cheeks. They have dull, almost see through skin, only barely visible in the water. And their hair is long and dark like the night. When you sail through their waters they try to crawl on-board of the ship, to take you with them into the water, and they cry painful songs as soon as their heads peak above the water.” He says it so fully, that you can’t even tell if it’s a lie or not. You want to believe it. “The Hellbound still has scratches on the side of her from when their claws scraped by the wood,” he nods. You just blink, and look at your plate.

“How do you know they want to harm? If they are magical creatures, they could be kind.”

“We don’t know they want to harm. But none of us were willing to find out. The water is too cold anyway, would’ve killed us in minutes. And since I’m responsible for my men, I didn’t want to take a chance.” You nod in understanding, looking around this room. To your left is the door back out, and to your right is a door that has only a small window in it. The golden plaque on it says ‘Office’. You can only imagine what treasures lie hidden in the office of a Pirate Captain. “And magic, that’s something for landlubbers like yourself. I don’t really believe in it.”

For some reason that doesn’t surprise you. With the breath you let out, some of your anxiety ebbs away. “Maybe I’m totally wrong, and excuse me if I am, but you don’t seem to want this,” you suddenly murmur. The Captain raises his brow a bit, a silent question. You clear your throat. “Everyone looks at you like you’re meant to be the one to lead, like… like you’re programmed to do so. They admire you, but they also seem to think you have all the answers, when you don’t. I feel the same things in a way, back home. Being a Royal. I know I shouldn’t complain, but most days I wish I could switch places with any other girl my age. I never asked for this, but people treat me like I did.”

You blink at him for a second again, biting through the tense feeling as best you can. “You treat me like I asked for this. And I treat you like you wanted to become what you are.” The man across from you gives you the tiniest nod. So you pick at the thin fabric of your dress, and look down. “So I guess I’m asking you now… Did you?”

The silence is filled yet again with the rushing of the waves, a constant the last few days that has become calming to your soul. Then, like the truth pains him deeply, he lets out a huff. “No.” Kyungsoo stares through the window revealing the deck for a long time, blinking against the muted light. “But things happen that push you in ways you never meant to go.” You try to respond a couple of times, but you’re not sure what to say. You agree with him… again. He doesn’t seem interested in elaborating about it further, so that leaves you both alone to your thoughts, in the same room. Not much later, Baekhyun suddenly pushes the door back open, his happy demeanor breaking through the void easily.

“The guests are breathing and alive! And I brought the second course.” The rest of the meal goes by in relative silence, both men informing you that the Red Skulls sold most of your left-behind items in Caryon. They also mention that these pirates are more ruthless than most. When you ask about what might have happened to the remaining crew on the ship, their faces don’t let on much, but you can notice Baekhyun tensing up at the topic. He swiftly explains that you shouldn’t have hope of seeing them again, which makes you incredibly sad for Jongdae. You don’t find out the actual reason behind inviting you to lunch though, which leaves you the most uncomfortable you’ve been in a while. Because you can’t figure out for the life of you why the Captain and his Right hand are being kind to you.

     🌊🌊🌊     

The days, though painstakingly long at times, are quite nice. You’ve truly grown to enjoy the breeze that flows past your shoulders when you stand out on deck. You’re gotten to sit up in the lowest of the crows nests, even though Sehun looked terrified for you the entire while. Turns out you wholly underestimated how long the trip would take, because seven more days out at sea seem like a lifetime. However, today is fun, since the wind has turned. The ship barely moves on the ocean, and the sails are pulled up and bound, which is a spectacle in itself. Baekhyun hangs in the ropes like a monkey, grinning like he is having the time of his life and you can’t help but tilt your head all the way back to follow his smooth motions from mast to mast, swinging between the ropes.

When you look over towards the rear of the ship, you can see Jongdae and Kyungsoo talk, even though it doesn’t last long. Kyungsoo’s hair is loose today, like it’s been freshly washed and though you’re not sure how he did that on a ship, you decides it looks good on him. It falls in fluffy tufts over his brows, hiding most of his frown even though you don’t doubt it’s still very much in place. When Jongdae returns back to your side, he smiles. You smile back at him, though the motion seems to pull at your muscles uncomfortably. You haven’t told him about the Red Skulls yet. You couldn’t, not when it’s clear that the hope has been all that he’s been holding onto. You turn to him, and lift your brows. “What’s got you so happy, Master Jongdae?”

“Nothing much,” he blinks, before poking your side playfully. “But I do have a slight surprise for you.”

“Oh no, what now…” you breathe, growing even more concerned at his overly excited grin.

“The ship is going to be stuck here for a while, since we’re stuck in between two currents caused by some smaller islands to the east. So I might have asked the Captain if it was alright to go have a swim. And before you say no, Sehun’s already getting you one of his shirts so you can’t back out.” He takes your hand to take you across the deck to the small space without railing, where a rope ladder hangs to a foot above the water. “We’ll just have a little dive, alright? The water looks great and it’s not very deep either.” The water does look great. It’s a warm, blue color, like that of a tropical island, and small droplets splash onto your exposed skin while you look.

“We’re on an pirate ship, and you want to take a little dive?” you giggle in return.

“Just because we’re on enemy territory doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to have some fun! Even Captain grumpy didn’t need any convincing.” When you roll your eyes, he pouts. “Come on, Princess, we’re going to be stuck here for an hour or two at least!”

To your other side, your best friend comes to lean his arm over your shoulder, and holds out the dark fabric of what you guess must be the shirt he was talking about. It’s quite thin of fabric, but at least it’s not as sheer as the dress you’re wearing. “You know you want to,” Sehun mumbles, the smile on his face audible even in his voice. You shake your head at both man’s antics, before jutting out your lips. But before you can convince yourself of any reasons that this might be a bad idea, your best friend lets out a high pitched laugh. Because he can see it on your face clear as day, fuck yes, you want to.

The water was pretty cold when you first entered, but now it’s actually quite warm. You laugh when Jongdae splashes a whole wall of water Sehun’s way, and swim out a bit more. The seafloor is only a few feet lower than the belly of the ship here, but it’s still way to deep to stand up. You smile, before letting yourself sink underneath the surface of the water and gently open your eyes. It feels a bit uncomfortable, but after a second or two you can make out your friends in the water, lower halves looking extremely silly. They look like frogs jumping around, only without getting very far. You look down the side of the ship, making out some paler lines on the wood that could very well be scratches, before coming back up for breath.

Jongdae smiles at you. “Princess! I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to catch a fish like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to catch one,” you giggle, and splash some water on their direction, before shaking your head. “Never-mind,” you reply. You sink under again, this time turning away from the ship to look down at the colorful plants that occupy most of the sea bottom. Small, multicolored fish swim in and out between the corals, unbothered by your presence. Some even swim towards you, as if curious to what strange creature you might be. They never get close enough to touch though, so you come back up to the surface for air. How pretty. For the first time in a while, this trip is going the way you wanted it to, and without being able to help it, you smile. You slowly make your way back to your friends, feeling the strain in your muscles from the lack of using them.

In all honesty, though you’re a good swimmer, you can’t remember the last time you actually did. It must have been years ago, that’s for sure. After another couple circles, you take hold of the ladder to your side to rest. Some of the pirates in the ropes glance down at you three every few, most likely wanting to take a dive as well. Jongdae comes to hold onto your shoulder as well, motioning Sehun over. “The plan seems to be going quite well, right, your Highness?” the older says, lowering his voice a bit out of caution. “The Captain seems less on edge about our presence than before.”

You give him a slight hum, though your brows are furrowed. “I guess… but I don’t really think that’s because of me. Baekhyun mentioned something about common goals, so it wouldn’t surprise me if we weren’t the only ones with hidden agendas. And besides, the Captain has hardly been very open with me since that one lunch we had a few days ago. He’s been very busy with the crew, and I don’t want to make it obvious either. Who knows what they’ll do if they find out we are —” you lower your voice even more, barely reaching above a whisper in volume, “trying to take over the ship?”

“I don’t think they have a clue,” Sehun smiles easily, backstroking past. “Who’d think that three people would plot against three dozen, after all?”

Jongdae nods. The two have become good friends throughout the time you’ve spent together, you’ve noticed. It makes you happy to see, since most of your time has been spent away from your best friend the last few days. And not that you’d admit it to him, but you’ve also grown quite attached to the older man’s quirky sense of humor and kind personality. “Exactly,” he agrees. “You’re doing great, Princess. Really. If you keep this going, in a few days you’ll definitely be able to enter there without the Captain even questioning it.” Though you shake your head with a roll of your eyes, you can’t help but hope he’s right. You don’t feel particularly glad to be misleading him after all, even though you should have no problems with it. Sehun and Jongdae are both kind people, and they don’t seem bothered, after all. Why should you be?

“Hey, Dae?” you then call, swimming away to let Sehun rest for a bit. “What do you think is going on with Captain Lilith? I know you most likely don’t want to talk about it, but I… I just worry, you know?” Baekhyun and Kyungsoo seem to worry too, though you don’t say this.

“I understand, Princess,” he soothes you, though he smiles sadly as he talks. “I know I’ve been avoiding the topic, because honestly… I felt guilty for a long time there. The Red Skulls are infamous, and known to sail those parts. As soon as we got attacked, I should have realized it was either them or these group of thieves, and never have left the fleet.”

“Jongdae…” Sehun tries to cut in, attempting to help, but Jongdae shakes his head.

“That’s what I should have done. But I didn’t, so there’s no reason I should beat myself up about it any longer. I can’t change the events of the past anymore anyway.” And he’s right, though you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you didn’t get attacked by pirates. What would you be doing right now? You’d probably be lounging in your bed, in the belly of the ship and sailing across the sea with no worries and no qualms. You wouldn’t have the scab on your cheek from a pirate sword, and you would most likely never have become friends with Jongdae. Not as quickly, at least. You would have never met Captain Kyungsoo and his mess of a Right Hand Baekhyun. You would definitely not have stopped here to take a dive in the perfect, blue water and you can’t help the nagging feeling in the back of your brain telling you that maybe, very maybe, you’re having a better time because of it.

but no, that’s ridiculous, right? You do your best to shake that idea from your mind, and sigh. “Whatever might happen next—” You’re cut off by a loud, childlike shriek from above you, and you look up. Baekhyun grins down at the three of you in the water, along with many others of the pirates who seem to have given up on work for right now, in favor of a bit of fun. The raven-haired tease scrunches his nose at you when you eye him, before taking a run up and tossing himself over the guardrails of the ship.

“CANNONBALL!” The splash he creates is gigantic, and goes up your nose when you giggle.

After a few long hours of playing in the water, you’re the first to climb back up onto the ladder. Which isn’t easy, with the immense effort you have to put in to lift your exhausted limbs above your head. You almost crawl onto deck, choosing to lay down on your back for a second, and feeling the cold wind nip at your shoulders. The afternoon sun is still warm on your shoulders, and the air is clear and cold in your lungs. If this wasn’t such a strange situation, this would be the only way you’d choose to spend your free time. Out at sea with friends, just enjoying the days. Maybe visit a tropical island or two, while you’re at it. When you open your eyes and roll onto your side, you come face to face with some boots, and looking up further, Kyungsoo. He stands hovered over your body, his top lip lifted slightly in what you can only guess is… awkwardness? So you stare at him for a moment, before pushing yourself up from the deck surface to stand on your legs. Only when you do, you notice the airtight way your shirt sticks to your shape, revealing much more of yourself than you wanted to. Oh, that’s why.

The man’s eyes linger for just a split second too long for you to miss it, though the rest of his face is schooled back perfectly into one of seriousness. He holds his arm out, with over it a white piece of clothing. “Here,” he nods for you to take it, “we figured you’d like to have the remainder of your items if given the chance. We found them being sold in Caryon. Don’t thank me either, it was all Baekhyun.” As you take the dress from his hands, you stare at it for a bit. It’s a white dress, with a boat neck and simple lace ruffles at the bottom, though pretty designs have been stitched on with white thread. Did you really bring this dress with you? You might have, though you don’t recognize it. The entire preparation period seems like a bit of a blur now, since everything that has happened between then and now. “I saw you getting up so…” he trails off, biting the side of his cheek. “Can you call the rest back up? The wind is picking up, we have to get going soon.” With that he walks away, not waiting up for your answer.

You hum after him in response anyway. When the Captain disappears from sight, you quickly peel the wet shirt from your body to slide into the dress, shaking a bit as the wind indeed picks up. Normally you’d never be this brave, but since everyone is either in the water or sleeping, you take a chance. Right on time in fact, because not long after the first pirates are making their way back onto deck. You tug your dress down a bit, frowning. You definitely did not bring this dress, you now realize, as it doesn’t even reach your knees. With a frown, you push the edge down a bit, turning when a whistle sounds out. Of course.

Baekhyun’s eyes seem to shine like diamonds, glee like you’ve never seen on him before. Of course this is his doing. “Baekhyun!” you hiss, walking over to him to punch him in the shoulder. “You think this is so very funny, don’t you?” He doesn’t respond, but takes hold of the hand you hit him with to pull your body way too close to his drenched one, smirking all the while. “Gods— let go, you maniac!” A bit harsh maybe, but it’s Baekhyun you’re talking to. He’ll get over it. This seems to push him towards the edge even more though.

“Don’t be like that, Princess. I got you a gift, you should be grateful.” Gift, hah, you think. The only person who it’s a gift for is him. “If you’re not grateful, I’ll tie you back up and sell you for a nice price as soon as we get to land again, little fish. Wouldn’t be the first. Don’t test my limits or I will test yours,” his voice grows so very close, face way too close to yours. Never mind, not harsh enough. You can’t help but want to shove him back, but his hold is too strong on your wrists. His words give you shivers down your spine, because you know he means it. You pull back again, and tilt your face away from him. Too much, too much— 

“Baekhyun,” that calm, deep voice suddenly mumbles, and you can’t help the relief that fills your chest, “let the girl go.” Kyungsoo, though he just lifts a simple eyebrow in your direction, looks livid. It expresses in the line that digs deep between his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth that are genuinely down-turned. You freeze, as well as Baekhyun does, because both of you seemingly had not expected anyone to help. But you’re oh so grateful.

“Come on, Kyungsoo, let me play with her just a little bit!” the other whines, wrapping his arm around your waist as you struggle against him. “You never nag like this when other women are present. Just because she’s a pretty, little Princess doesn’t mean that I can’t tease her. Should I tease you a bit,” he asks you then, glints still flickering in his eyes. You don’t want to be teased. Not by him at least, you think, glaring up at the attractive guy, who suddenly looks so much less pleasant. He really doesn’t seem to notice that the game has long died for you, and that you just want him to let you go now. But with Kyungsoo standing so close, you’re not scared to push against the other man harder, shoving him to let go of you. But Baekhyun is quick, and his hand snakes around your arm, grip painful on you now. “Come on, sweetheart, I won’t bite.”

“I don’t care, you’re gross and this dress is not a gift to anyone but you! You care about no one but yourself, I can’t even believe I was starting to not despise you!” you snap at him, feeling a warmth around your other hand now. Kyungsoo is holding your free one, clenched tight in his. If it’s for your support, or his own, you’re not quite sure. It doesn’t seem to deter Baekhyun, in fact, it’s as if he’s able to look straight through Kyungsoo. Like a bull seeing red.

“If you want me to sort you out, you just have to ask, Princess. I’ll treat your precious, rich girl body so well that you can never spread your legs again unless I tell you to.” The grin he was wearing has long worn off, eyes so sharp that you don’t want to keep them. When he wants to step closer to you again, Kyungsoo pulls his friend back by his shoulder.

“Let. her. go,” the bassy thrill of his voice makes the hairs on your neck stand up. “I’m not telling you again.”

The dirty look that Baekhyun sends the other is vicious. “Why? No one else is allowed to play with your property, is it?” Though he seems to be getting more ferocious, he loosens the grip on you. “You’re delusional, Kyungsoo. You’re just as bad of a person as I am, I don’t know why you’re acting like a saint here. Why don’t you let go of her?! At least I never put a scar on her face.” You, seemingly forgotten, fall from his hand entirely, as he closes in on the other man. “I saw you looking at her too, I’m just not afraid to admit to it. You’re delusional,” he repeats. “At least I don’t expect her to suddenly fix what a shitty human I am! Unlike you, I have self-respect!” When you step forward automatically, Kyungsoo’s hand pushes you back away, keeping you out of reach. You’re not sure why you care, but Baekhyun looks frantic. Like he can’t see the world around him anymore, too drilled down in this emotion of anger to care.

“Baekhyun, snap out,” Kyungsoo solemnly replies, not backing down when Baekhyun shoves him against the shoulder. He doesn’t even seem to listen to the words thrown at his face, Something in the Captain’s expression makes you feel like he feels at least as sad for the other as you do, if not more. Your eyes narrow a bit as you watch the both of them from the sidelines. You want to help, but you wouldn’t know how. It’s truly as if the older sees black from all sides, and Kyungsoo knows. “Hey, breathe. I’m not your enemy.”

“Fuck off, Kyungsoo! You don’t know me!” Baekhyun basically growls at his friend, pushing past him. The man stomps away with his fists clenched so tight that his bones peek out white through his skin. You stare after him until he disappears into the stairway, leaving you both standing here in silence. All your energy has depleted, and the urge to sink to the floor floods over you. But you stay standing, and instead turn back to Kyungsoo.

“Thank y-” Don’t, a voice in the back of your mind screams like an echo of your previous anger, making you swallow the rest of that. 

What Kyungsoo did was only what any other person would do. You don’t need to thank him for being a sane human being! Baekhyun was all up on you, because you’ve been taken as a captive here! You know your frustration is speaking now, but can’t help be mad. Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to notice your mental tug-of-war. “Don’t— hold it against him, if you can. Baekhyun doesn’t mean to be this way, he hates it too,” his voice seems to die down the longer he speaks. “He just can’t… he wasn’t always like that. Some things still give him a very difficult time, and he has a hard time snapping out of it by himself.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes as he takes a few steps back, staring instead at your shoulder or something behind it. “I brought the rest of your stuff down. Baekhyun bought you some new things too. He thought you might like to get out of that one dress you have.” A soft sigh, as he looks at you again, storm-colored eyes dripping down your skin, as if soothing you from afar. “He seems to really like you, you’re kind to him. He hasn’t had a lot of that in life yet.”

“Right,” you just respond, biting your lips as you give a tense nod, not able to aim it towards him fully. He seems to understand, and gives a soft, understanding hum. Kyungsoo walks back after that, picking some of the thick ropes from the floor and hoisting them over his shoulder, before walking out of your view. And though you might not be able to admit it out loud, you say it internally with every fiber of your being. Thank you, Kyungsoo. Really.

     🌊🌊🌊      🌊🌊🌊      🌊🌊🌊    

.next part. 30.01.2020  as soon as possible

next part up tomorrow if all goes well!! thank you so much for reading his beast up ‘till here already~ it would mean the absolute world if you could sent me something about this one because i felt like deleting it all more times than i’d like to admit! hope you enjoyed and love you ♡♡♡

tag list @chanyeolol​ @ninibears-erigom​​ @suhoerections​ @kimjongdaely​ @byunfirstlady​ @greenmetalroof​ and @spring-medley​ pirate!kyungsoo is finally here ♡ thank you so much for helping me through this and being excited for it

#exowritersnet #exosnet #kwordsmiths #exowriting #exo #kyungsoo #d.o x reader #d.o #kyungsoo x reader #pirate!au #pirate au #princess!au #princess au #royal!au #royal au #exo au #exo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfic #oneshot #fluff #smut #fantasy #adventure #ksoo #do kyungsoo #d.o au #lovers au #kyungsoo fluff #kyungsoo oneshot