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mayaree-darling · 5 months

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Water... Connoisseur?// Neuvillette

synopsis: Neuvillette shares his love for water tasting with the Creator (ft. Paimon and the Traveler)

from aree: this was supposed to be a short funny little thing but as always i can’t keep my mouth shut and now this is 17 pages long

content: Creator!Reader; smol spoiler(?) for and inspired by Neuvillette's story quest and profile/voice over; Reader and the Traveler (and Paimon) have Siblings Energy; I headcanon that the Traveler can see their inventory the way us players can; Pure Crack; Probably OOC Neuvillette

fic length: ~5.3k

You are the Creator of Teyvat, spending time with the Traveler, Paimon, and Neuvillette. At one point, the Iudex offers for the four of you to take a break in his office and he'll fetch you some refreshments. Almost immediately, you see from the corner of your eye the Traveler and Paimon stutter out that they'll get the drinks themselves, but it's too late. You didn't see what was wrong with Neuvillette offering something to drink - if anything, you're curious to know what kind of drink he'd prepare for his guests. This was your first time tasting what Fontaine had to offer. So you let him go.

When Neuvillette leaves the room, the traveling duo beside you share a heavy sigh. You turn to them and ask what's wrong. They share a meaningful look. You'll see, they say.

Eventually, Neuvillette comes back rolling a small food trolley in front of him. On top are four silver pitchers and four goblets. Paimon sheepishly laughs, "Here we go."

You step forward - because it's clear to you Traveler and Paimon have no plans on taking initiative - and Neuvillette motions to the pitchers.

"Each one is from a different nation. I hope that you'll find at least one of them to your tastes, Your Grace. I assure you they are all of high quality, although I have no doubt of it since they are a part of your creation, after all. Personally, I can't say I favor one over the other. I find each one particularly special in its own way, so I must apologize if I cannot give you a recommendation."

You frown. You... made them? You don't remember something about creating a drink for each nation. Was this a recipe from your old life that only a dragon sovereign could remember? The Traveler clears their throat and mumbles something under their breath. You turn to them questioningly and you watch bemused as their mouth ticks up at the corners.

"It's water." The Traveler looks at everything in the room before their eyes land on you.

You blink. "Excuse me?"

"Haha.. It's just water... The drinks..." If Paimon was standing on solid ground, you think she would be bouncing on the balls of her feet, her arms behind her. When she meets your eyes, she lets out a sheepish laugh. "That's what Neuvillette means by they're from every nation. They're... spring water from different places."

You slowly look at the Traveler and Paimon in turn, hoping for a deeper explanation or for them to tell you they were pulling your leg, but both of them refuse to look you in the eye. Your mouth is opened to a permanent gasp of understanding as you turn back to the food trolley in front of you.

Oh...

"Is there something wrong, Your Grace?" You almost regret looking at Neuvillette. Although he doesn't usually show his emotions, it's almost like he can't help but show you how dejected he looks. To put it simply, it felt like you kicked an otter to the curb, sad puppy eyes and everything. You half expect it to start raining outside that instant. "I can arrange for the Melusine to make something else, if you'd like. I'm sure they'd be honored to -"

"NO! No. It's okay. It's fine, Neuvillette. Thank you for the offer, but it's fine." You shoot a frown at the duo, who have taken to plastering themselves on one of the many sofas in the room, intent on letting you handle the water situation. You breathe in and take a step forward, taking one of the goblets. "You said each one is special, right? I'm sure they'll taste... nice..."

You pointedly ignore the Traveler as they grumble once more (you pretend you didn't just hear Paimon say "no it won't"). You look at each of the pitchers and pretend to be thinking hard about your choice. It's kind of hard to make a choice now that you know they're all just water. Your only saving grace is you know where they came from.

"I think I'll start off with... Sumeru!" Neuvillette all but beams at your decision and picks up the selected pitcher. You're glad he did because you didn't know which was which. You pray to Nahida that you didn't make a bad choice (the God of Wisdom has yet to fail you since your descent and you hope that she has your back this time, too.) Holding out your goblet, you watch as Neuvillette fills the cup half way, almost hoping there's a telltale sign of a difference (or it's a different drink altogether).

It's just water.

"A wonderful choice, Your Grace. This particular water comes from Apam Woods of Sumeru. You'll find the taste to be rich and complex. Despite usually having to take the time to savor it to fully appreciate it, I'm sure Your Grace will have no problem distinguishing its special flavor, which is unlike any other."

Did he have to put the pressure on you like that?

You laugh sheepishly as you fight to give Neuvillette your best thankful smile. Taking back the goblet, you stare at your drink, deciding your best bet was to examine it if you were going to "savor" it. Maybe it was a different color? No, it's still translucent in nature. Swirling it a few times, it doesn't appear to have a thicker viscosity as it sloshes around your cup. As for the smell it was-

Wait. Huh?

"It's fragrant," you mumble. Only when you hear yourself clearly do you realize the room is silent. Looking up, you see Neuvillette staring at you, and behind you, even the Traveler and Paimon have taken an interest in your exchange. All eyes are trained on you, watching your reaction. You look back to Neuvillette as he lets out a hum.

"It's... fragrant? I must say, even I have never thought to discern its smell. For a moment, please," Neuvillette steps forward and takes a goblet for himself, pouring water from the same pitcher. He pulls the goblet up to his nose. "Hmm. As I thought. It seems I am unable to smell this fragrance you speak of. How interesting."

"Wait. If you can smell it..." You turn to Paimon as she looks at the Traveler. When they look at you, their eyes are expectant.

Surely, you can...?

Looking at Neuvillette, he gives you an encouraging nod. You raise the goblet to your lips and take a tentative sip. And then another. And then... another? You lower the goblet, and then turn to the Traveler.

"It tastes like flowers." You know you and the Traveler share the same incredulous look. You can just feel the disbelief and confusion pulling at your face. Looking at Paimon, she's just as confused, head in her little hands. "When I focus on it, it's floral. Kind of like... tea? Like herbal tea, just less strong. It could even be perfume."

"Marvelous," you look at Neuvillette, and it's clear to you he does not sense the growing bewilderment you and the other two are going through. He smiles at you softly, and you don't have the heart to tell him that water isn't supposed to have a flavor. "I don't seem to recall anyone else sharing my taste for water. But I must say - even I am unable to perfectly put a name or a description to the flavor I experience. It's almost always a feeling."

"WAIT! Waitwaitwaitwait! I wanna try, too!" Paimon rushes to your side and takes your goblet in her hands, ready to drink it. You hear Neuvillette clear his throat and turn to him as he fills the other two goblets with Sumeru water. Paimon lets go of your goblet and goes to take one for herself. You see the Traveller stand up and grab one too. "Is it different from the one we had before? Wait, but it's from the Apam Woods, too..."

The Traveler and Paimon take a big gulp at the same time, licking their lips and savoring the taste before eventually they click their tongues in unison.

"Nope." The Traveler laughs, almost amused and defeated at the same time.

"Nothing's different. It's the same water as last time!" Paimon stomps her little feet in the air. "Are you pulling Paimon's leg?"

"Of course not. However, I am curious. If it is fine with Your Grace, I would love to hear more about what you can taste," If you were honest, you didn't want any more of the spotlight on you - being the Creator, you've had enough of that. But Neuvillette seemed so happy in the moment you couldn't possibly refuse him.

"Well, besides smelling and tasting like flowers," you take a sip, letting it roll on your tongue. "It also has this sort of herby aftertaste? But only when I focus on it. Kind of like basils? Or rosemary? I can't tell you for sure what kind, but it kind of tastes like that."

When you turn back to them, you're surprised to see Neuvillette looking at you in confusion. Did you say something wrong?

"He doesn't know what those are, dummy," The Traveler sighs. You watch as they take a metal shaker out from their inventory and start preparing a drink of their own. Paimon watches on, excited of drinking something that wasn't just water. "They don't have those here in Teyvat, remember?"

"Traveler, I implore you to watch your words. Was it necessary to call Your Grace as such?" Neuvillette frowns.

The Traveler shrugs and you both share a secretive smile. "They prefer that over 'Your Grace', though."

Neuvillette turns to you with concern. "Is-is that true, Your Grace? Why would you prefer that name? I can't quite say I agree with that decision but- "

"It's fine, Neuvillette. I forgot you didn't know any of those herbs, so I'm sorry for that. Just know the water tastes like it has a bit of herbs or spice to it." You shake your head with a laugh, thinking of a way to change the subject. "Anyway, can I taste the other ones?"

Neuvillette almost visibly lights up at that and takes another of the pitchers, filling your emptied goblet with more water.

"This one is from Inazuma's Konda Village. For its mouthfeel, I find it quite placid." Neuvillette looks at you expectantly. You're reminded again of a puppy, or in his case, an otter. A very cute otter. As you put the goblet to your lips, you have half a mind to gift him a seashell.

You take a sip and almost immediately spit it out. In an instant, Neuvillette is by your side, throwing the goblet halfway across the room. Before you realize it, you're in his arms and he has half a mind to bolt out the room to get you to a healer until you stop him.

"WAIT! Wait, Neuvi, just calm down-" you descend into a coughing fit.

"Your Grace! What's wrong? Is it poison? Were you poisoned?! Oh no, Paimon can't look-"

"That's preposterous. I prepared the drinks myself," he says that, but Neuvillette talks like he's suddenly doubting himself.

"You sure you don't need to get healed?" the Traveler frowns in concern, turning your face this way and that, looking for signs of poisoning.

You shake your head again and swallow down another cough, clearing your throat. "No, no, I don't need a healer. I wasn't poisoned. I just wasn't expecting to suddenly take a shot of sparkling water."

The Traveler blinks, there's a pause as it sinks in, and suddenly they stand up and head back to the food trolley. They pick up the shaker they unceremoniously left when everyone panicked and resumed making their drink.

"Traveler, are you gonna make medicine for the Creator?" Paimon floats around you in concern.

"You guys can stop panicking. They're not gonna die," the Traveler sighs and looks at you with a face that can only be described as 'Are you for reals.' "I think they were just surprised with how the water tasted."

You motion for Neuvillette to let you down, which he does albeit very hesitantly. You merely laugh at the concern on his face and give him a pat on the back to reassure him that no, the Creator was not going to die on his watch just because of a bad drink of water.

The Iudex frowns hard looking at the pitcher of Inazuman water. "You called it... sparkling water? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but am I to assume water from Inazuma has different visual properties? Does Your Grace see something we are unable to? And if so, does this difference have an effect on the taste?"

You shake your head again for what seemed like the thousandth time, before you stop and think about it for a second. You head to the food trolley and pick up Paimon's empty cup. Pouring Inazuman water from the pitcher, you watch as normal looking water fills the goblet. The normal fizzle of bubbles you expect from a carbonated drink is not present, even as you swirl it around.

Before Neuvillette can stop you, you take a sip of it again. You hear him stifle a gasp. His hand is on your shoulder, ready to bring you to Sigewinne at record speed if needed. But you weren't mistaken - it really does taste like sparkling water. Weird. You turn to Neuvillette and try to look as reassuring as possible.

"So, back from... where I came from, we have this drink called sparkling water. It's not that it was particularly, uh, sparkly, but it did have a lot of bubbles. The water from Inazuma here looks like regular water, but it does feel like sparkling water in your mouth," you explain slowly. The look of doubt doesn't leave Neuvillete's face. "It's also not deadly for us, just like how this water isn't. I mean, you like drinking it, right? That means it's fine for consumption."

He visibly eases up at your words. He reluctantly lets go of your shoulder with a shaky exhale. You kinda feel bad for making him so worried. Eventually, you watch as he calms down from the panic earlier and suddenly he's back to his stoic self, unable to resist his interest in your water tasting experience.

"So this so-called sparkling water... what does it feel like? May you explain? I'm afraid I cannot quite imagine it." Neuvillette looks to be deep in thought and you laugh softly. He really was into water tasting.

"Oh? Paimon thinks Mondstadt has something similar."

The Traveler pauses from taking a sip of their new drink - Boreal Watch, you remember it's called - before opening their inventory. They scroll through a list of ingredients before taking out a single bottle. The bubbling liquid is a familiar sight. "They call it Fizzy Water. I used it to make drinks at Angel's Share once. Feel free to drink this, Monsieur Neuvillette. Master Diluc gave it as a freebie."

Neuvillette takes the bottle with a nod of thanks. He examines the packaging for a moment, pops the bottle open and takes a swig. There's a pregnant pause before he turns his back to you, takes his goblet and spits out the drink into it out of your line of sight. The three of you don't have to look at each other to know the expression the others have; Paimon sounds like she's close to tears from holding in her laughter.

When Neuvillette turns to you again, you give him a small smile, ready to comfort him, before he drops to his knee in front of you. You try to pull him up by his arms but he just holds on to your hands.

"Your Grace, please allow me to apologize for making you go through that."

"H-hey, I didn't mind you literally spitting it out, come on now, I basically did the same thing if not worse-"

"No. Not that, Your Grace. I also apologize for that, yes, but I refused to swallow that drink down no matter the cost." He's staring at you dead in the eyes and he looked so serious it was unnerving. "I'm apologizing for letting you drink the water from Inazuma. Had I known that is what you would experience, I would have skipped offering it to you as a refreshment."

"Please stand up. Don't worry about it. It's not that big of a deal," you pull on his arms again and he doesn't resist, standing back up. "I told you it's a normal drink from where I'm from, right? I was just shocked because I wasn't expecting it."

"Do you mean..." Neuvillette visibly cringes, much to your amusement. "People from your old land... like? To drink it? How... eccentric."

"So do those from Mondstadt, Monsieur Neuvillette," you turn to the Traveler in disbelief that they'd say that right now, but all they give you back is a devious grin peeking from atop their cup as they take another sip. "Dawning Dew was a bestseller."

Paimon clears her throat as she collects herself. "It's kind of funny that Neuvillette can't feel the fizziness when he's drinking? He said that he can feel what he drinks, not taste it. Paimon wonders what's up with that."

"What's Konda Village water like for you, again?" you hum.

"If I had to put a word to it," Neuvillette thought about it for a second. "Placid."

"Placid? That's one way to describe something." Paimon shrugs.

"Yes, that was how I would have described it," Neuvillette shoots a glare at the bottle of Fizzy Water and another concerned look at you. "After current events, I can't quite say the same."

Paimon was right, though. Placid was definitely a different way of describing things. Placid meant... calm? Or tranquil? You definitely didn't think that's how you'd describe Inazuma. Wait, Inazuma? And that feeling of sparkling water...

"Is it possible... You think it's 'placid'... because your mouth has gone numb?" you gape at Neuvillette.

He stares back at you blankly. The silence in the room is deafening.

“Maybe… don’t drink that for a while. Not until you’re ready again,” you offer.

“Agreed.” Neuvillette nods stiffly.

“Alright!” you clap your hands and turn back to the food trolley. “What’s next?”

To your surprise, Neuvillette’s hand wraps around your wrist as you manage to grasp the next pitcher's handle. He looks just as surprised as you do that he’s holding on to you.

“Neuvi…llette?” you blink at him.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” he lets go like he was burned, but he doesn’t exactly move away. “But we can stop here if you so wish.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean to say is,” Neuvillette coughs into his fist, thinking hard about his next words. “Although I wish to learn more about the different tastes Your Grace can experience, I must admit I am unable to guide you nor accompany you in your journey, per say. Should there be something wrong with the following water samples, I can only watch and listen like the others, but not help until much later.”

You nod slowly.

“It means he’s concerned, dummy,” a voice calls out from behind you and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I kind of got that, thanks for the heads up,” you groan.

“If I am honest,” Neuvillette’s voice is soft, you’d even be confident to say it’s like he only wants you to hear. “I feel like a scientist watching my latest test subject. Fascinated, and yet should a problem arise, useless.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you frown at him, but the expression easily slides off your face when he faces you (damn those sad otter eyes). Eventually, you offer him a soft smile. “If I really considered this as life threatening as you think, I would have stopped after the first pitcher. But I’m genuinely having fun, alright? So don’t worry too much about it.”

He doesn’t look quite convinced. You have been telling him to calm down a lot this entire time. When he opens his mouth to dissuade you, you beat him to it.

“I should thank you, you know.”

“Excuse me?” Neuvillette gapes at you. “I almost rushed you to a healer just a moment ago, Your Grace. I have done nothing to earn your gratitude.”

“That’s the thing, though, thank you for taking care of me this entire time, Neuvillette. You’ve been looking out for me every time we’re together, so thank you,” without thinking it over, you close the distance between you two and hug him. When you pull away, he’s intent on not looking you in the eye. “Thank you also for introducing me to water tasting. Never thought the day would come but here we are. It really is quite fun.”

“I see…” Neuvillette says, before abruptly turning around, giving you a clear view of his reddened ears. “Pardon me for a moment, Your Grace. I just… need to recollect for a moment.”

Before you can say anything else, he leaves your side and goes to get your goblet he threw earlier in a panic. He kneels down and picks it up, but instead of heading back towards you, he just sort of holds it, turning it around in his hand mindlessly. You watch, jaw slightly open, until you feel a presence behind you.

“I think you broke him.”

You turn to the Traveler with concern. “Yeah I think so, too, should I be worried?”

You both turn to Neuvillette, seeing he’s still busy with his goblet, before looking back to each other.

“I bet 500 mora he’ll go back to normal if you make yourself another drink.”

“It’s not really a bet if we agree on the same thing, though?”

You clear your throat, hoping to catch Neuvillette’s attention as you turn to Paimon. “Paimon, mind if I borrow your cup for now? We can share if you need it.”

“No, that’s okay. Paimon’s had enough of water. Paimon will share with the Traveler!” Almost on cue, the Traveler offers their drink to Paimon.

The moment you lift the next pitcher, Neuvillette is by your side in an instant, your goblet and his safely set aside for washing later. “May I do the honors, Your Grace?”

You offer your goblet as he holds up the pitcher. He pauses.

“Promise me we’ll stop if things get… awry.”

You smile. “You said it yourself, right? This is water prepared by the Iudex himself and made by the Creator themselves. I don’t doubt for a second that it’s not safe.”

Neuvillette shares your smile softly before pouring the water into your goblet. Third time’s the charm, right? You take a sip and… raise an eyebrow.

“It’s salty. Huh.” you take another sip. “Sort of metallic, too. That’s pretty close to the same thing but, yeah, I’d say it’s rather salty.”

“Salty? That’s quite strange.” Neuvillette double checks that he’s holding the right pitcher. “This water is from Liyue, particularly from Qingce Village. I know of the water from Liyue to have an enduring aftertaste, but I must say I was not expecting it to be salty.”

“Me, too; for Liyue I was kind of expecting it to have an earthy kind of taste. Whatever that tastes like, I don’t know, but I was ready for anything besides this,” you take another sip. “Can’t say it’s all that bad, though. I feel like I’m at a beach.”

“Only if you’re actively drinking the sea water.”

You don’t even bother looking behind you. “I said it ‘felt’ like. I didn’t say ‘taste’ like. Get your facts straight.”

Looking up at Neuvillette, you realize he’s only watching your reactions. He smiles softly when he finds your attention on him. Not wanting to be the only one “enjoying” the drink, you offer your goblet to him. He looks at you, slightly alarmed, but when you make no move to take the goblet back, he reluctantly takes it. He turns away from you as he drinks.

You hear the Traveler clear their throat behind you. When you go to look, their eyebrows are raised at you. They look to Neuvillette and then to you before scoffing. Oh… was it that intimate an action?

“A-anyway,” you clear your throat as Neuvillette hands the goblet back to you. There’s a small pleased smile on his face. “What do you think of when you drink water from Liyue?”

“For me,” Neuvillette closes his eyes for a few seconds, careful of what to say next. “I always thought it had a poignant touch to it.”

“Poignant?” What did you think of when you thought of poignant? Swirling the water around your cup, you recall a story quest. Liyue, salt, and water are key factors in its plot. A sad smile overtakes your features. “Ah. Yes, I guess poignant would be a good word for that. Salty is the right word, too.”

Neuvillette tilts his head to the side at your sudden change in demeanor. “Your Grace?”

“It’s nothing. Just thought I’d visit an old friend sometime.” you tilt your head back as you down the rest of the cup. “Anyways, I think I need something else to wash that off.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose that does come with consuming salty foods.” Neuvillette nods. “Would you like a different drink? Something aside from water, I mean.”

“Actually, water is good for washing off salt, so I thought I’d ask for more water.”

He holds up the last silver pitcher. “We have Mondstadt left, if you would like to give it a try right now.”

“How would you describe it?” you ask, but you’re already holding out your goblet.

“This particular batch is from Cider Lake.” Neuvillette fills your goblet a little more than usual, most likely to fully cleanse the salt from your palate. “Besides having a crisp and clear feel, I also find that it warms the heart.”

“Oh, wow, guess Venti’s got it nice going for him,” you lift the goblet to your lips and drink.

“I’d be bold enough to say it’s the only thing nice going for him.”

You almost spit out your drink for the second time this day. You turn to look at the Traveler, but they’re busy having a debate with Paimon. That means that the person who said that was-

Neuvillette takes the goblet from your hands and drinks. When you look at him, jaw hanging open still from disbelief, you watch as the corners of his mouth tick up.

“Are you allowed to say that?” you whisper. The Traveler and Paimon don’t seem to have heard, but you sure as hell did.

“I just did, did I not?” He offers a small smile that borders on innocent if it wasn’t so conspiratorial. “I have faith that the Creator will not spread rumors about me, I hope.”

You don’t know if you’d still call it a rumor when he so blatantly did it in front of you, but you end up laughing. You put both hands up as a show of surrender. No way in hell were you telling on the dragon sovereign of Fontaine.

“So, as for our final drink,” Neuvillette offers the goblet back. “What do you make of water from Mondstadt?”

You make a show of finishing the cup all in one go. “Out of all the ones we tasted, I think this has got to be my favorite so far.”

“Oh? Is it that good?” Neuvillette watches you keenly, awaiting for more details.

“Yep. It tastes like water.”

Neuvillette chuckles softly, but when you simply offer him a smile, his smile drops. “You… are not joking?”

“Nah. It’s exactly as you say - it’s crisp and clean. It’s how water tasted like back from my world,” you hum in delight. “It doesn’t remind me of anything else but the pure taste of water. Can’t put my finger on whether it’s distilled, mineral, or tap water, all I know is that it’s water for me.”

“Hmm. Although I want to say it’s rather an anticlimactic ending, I can’t say so. I leave today with the knowledge that there is still a water sample we can similarly taste.” Neuvillette smiles to himself once more. “But that’s enough of that. I believe I’ve put you through enough for today, Your Grace. Thank you for entertaining me and my hobbies.”

“I had fun! Make sure to call me next time you get a new sample, I’d love to have a taste.” You beam at him.

Neuvillette stares at you for a moment - was he waiting for you to tell him it was just a joke? Sure seemed like it - before his smile was back, relieved. You can almost see his little otter tail waving around. “Of course. I already look forward to it.”

“Are you done now?”

You take a step back as Paimon suddenly steps into the middle. Her little frown does little to make you feel bad. If anything, it has the opposite effect and you laugh. Her frown deepens at you as you rub her little head.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re done. We can get a meal now.”

“Woohoo! We're getting meals, plural. Where are we going to eat? Paimon wants some Fontainian Foie Gras!” you follow the fairy as she heads out the door, excited for the prospect of food. And then you pause as you remember.

“Ah, wait. Before we leave. Just one more thing.”

You head back to the food trolley and grab Paimon’s goblet. You make a beeline for a corner in Neuvillette’s office. You noticed earlier there was a small drinking fountain. Gathering enough water into your cup, you take a sip. You turn to Neuvillette.

“Oh my gosh, it’s sweet.”

＝＝✿＝＝｜✧••❀••✧｜＝＝✿＝＝

❀BONUS❀

The Traveler and Paimon share an exasperated sigh for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past week. Ever since the water tasting incident, the Creator and Neuvillette have taken to going around Teyvat, trying out different waters straight from the spring of each nation.

"Why do we have to visit each nation? Paimon thought you could just have them delivered straight to your office!" Paimon leans on the Traveler's head, tired from floating around so much.

"Appreciating the nation from which the drink came from is part of the experience, Paimon." Neuvillette swirls the water in his goblet, offering it to the floating fairy, who only takes a look at it before cringing away.

The Traveler and Paimon share another look. They know he just likes the opportunity to bond with the Creator over their appreciation of water.

"Are we going back home after this?" Paimon groans.

"I can make you some Sticky Honey Roast if you guide us to Snezhnaya?" You take another sip from your goblet, one made from pure magical ore.

("Your Grace deserves only the finest things, even if it's only dinnerware and the likes," said Neuvillette. "I may also add that a traveling merchant said that drinking from a crystal goblet highlights the taste of the refreshment, as it is free from the taste of metal usually found in a standard cup." You don't mention that you notice he has a matching goblet, right next to a pile of books on his desk. Embedded on it is a familiar seashell.)

In an instant, Paimon is by your side, eyes glittering with determination. "If you cook three Sticky Honey Roasts for Paimon, Paimon can take you to Kh'aenriah."

You lower your goblet and hold out a hand. "Two. And I'll throw in a Squirrel Fish if you find a lake where we can drink from."

"Deal." Paimon takes your hand and you shake on it.

The Traveller flops to the ground and sighs.

They knew they were going to be the one to look for that lake.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@wonpielle 💜@shikanosn

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin impact sagau neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x reader #self aware genshin au #sagau #genshin impact x reader #sagau neuvillette #genshin impact reader insert

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

the shape of your body (explicit)

genre: fluffy slowburn smut

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.

word count: 24k 🙇‍♀️

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)

A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜 (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)

an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.

Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.

Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.

Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.

It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.

There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.

But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.

You just wish you knew him, too.

Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?

Well, you know a few things.

He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.

He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.

You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.

He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.

You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.

Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.

On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.

Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.

And then the train stops moving.

There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.

You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.

“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.

You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.

Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”

A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.

“Definitely not.”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.

With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.

Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”

You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.

“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”

You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”

“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.

“What did you pay them for?”

“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.

Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.

It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.

But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”

Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”

There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”

Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.

“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”

As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”

His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.

“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.

“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.

The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.

“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.

“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”

You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”

“You in grad school too?”

“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”

His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”

“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”

“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”

You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”

He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”

You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”

“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”

You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.

“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”

“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.

And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.

A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”

You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”

“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.

You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.

You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.

It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.

Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.

You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.

Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”

You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.

It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.

But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.

You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.

He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.

The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.

By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.

Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”

“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.

The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”

The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.

He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.

You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.

You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.

Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.

You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”

He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”

“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”

You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.

With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.

You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.

You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.

“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.

You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.

~*~

The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.

You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

“You just did,” Yoongi notes.

You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“

“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“

“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”

Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.

“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”

“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”

He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”

You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”

“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”

You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.

“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”

You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”

“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”

“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“

“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”

You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”

“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”

~*~

Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.

When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.

Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.

He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.

Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.

The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.

Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.

You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.

When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.

Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.

Holy shit.

You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.

“Fucking asshole!”

It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.

“Yoongi?!”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”

He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”

“What about the coffee shop?”

He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”

“What about the bar?”

“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”

“What about the—”

“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”

“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.

“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”

“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.

The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”

When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.

Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.

“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”

He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.

Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.

The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.

But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.

You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.

Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.

With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.

~*~

That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.

It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.

“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.

“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.

“Is this about the penis?”

The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”

You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”

You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”

He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”

You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”

“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”

“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.

“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”

Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.

“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.

You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”

He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”

Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”

There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”

“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”

You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”

“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”

Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”

He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”

Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”

“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”

“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.

In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.

You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.

“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.

By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.

You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.

The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.

You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.

Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.

This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.

But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.

The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.

A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.

But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.

Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.

With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.

It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.

You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.

“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”

Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.

“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.

You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”

Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”

Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”

“Gay together.”

He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”

Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”

You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.

You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”

Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”

He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”

Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”

You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”

Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”

“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”

He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”

You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.

“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.

There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”

The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.

“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.

You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.

“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.

“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.

“Guess so.”

“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.

The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.

~*~

The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.

You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.

To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.

Another invitation, you realize dumbly.

The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.

An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.

As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.

When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.

After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.

Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.

For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.

You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.

“That was fast.”

You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”

He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”

Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.

When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.

“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.

You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.

“When are you done with classes today?”

It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”

Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”

Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”

~*~

When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”

You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.

“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”

He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”

You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”

Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.

“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”

The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.

“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.

It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”

He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”

“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”

A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”

You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”

You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”

Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”

Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”

“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”

At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”

You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.

Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”

He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”

You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”

Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”

You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”

He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”

It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.

“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.

Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”

As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.

“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”

“White and sparkling?”

“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.

Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.

“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”

The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.

“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”

You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”

“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”

He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”

A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”

“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”

At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”

After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.

“Ready?”

“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.

He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.

Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.

When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.

The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.

“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”

“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.

“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.

It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”

He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”

There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”

Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.

Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.

Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.

You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”

Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.

Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.

He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.

You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.

“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”

You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.”

Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”

“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.

In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”

“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen. You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”

He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”

Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.

“Let’s hear it.”

His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”

He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.

“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”

His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.

“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”

“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”

~*~

Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.

He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”

On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.

“Better?”

“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”

These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.

Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.

At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.

When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.

But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.

“Subway Boy, huh?”

“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.

It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.

~*~

You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.

His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.

“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.

“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”

“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”

This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”

You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”

“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.

You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.

It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”

“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.

When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.

“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”

He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.

You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.

He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”

“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.

“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”

“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”

His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”

You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.

“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”

You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”

Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.

“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.

You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”

“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.

His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”

Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”

Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”

His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”

You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”

Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”

Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.

“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.

“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”

Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.

Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”

You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.

You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.

Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.

“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.

“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.

“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”

Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”

You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”

He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”

“I think so, yeah.”

There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”

“Is Joon?”

He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”

“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”

Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”

He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”

You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”

His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”

“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”

Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.

~*~

During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.

They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.

His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.

“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.

“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.

His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”

“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”

The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”

You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”

Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.

The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.

His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.

You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.

You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.

“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.

It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.

While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.

You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.

He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.

Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”

You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.

He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.

“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”

The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.

His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.

Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.

Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.

Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.

When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.

“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”

You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.

Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.

Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.

You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”

You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”

“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”

“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”

Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.

It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”

“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.

“Y-yeah.”

You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.

Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.

As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.

When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”

You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”

He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.

You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.

“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?”

His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”

You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.

When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”

Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”

“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”

He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”

“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”

“I will,” you promise, and you do.

~*~

Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.

You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.

He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”

You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.

“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”

Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.

“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.

A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.

“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”

“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.

“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.

“The Louvre?!”

“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”

Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.

You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.

“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.

He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”

“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”

Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”

Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.

As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.

You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.

Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.

“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.

Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.

“Hobi?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.

“Jimin?!”

“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”

“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”

You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.

“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”

Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”

You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.

It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.

It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.

The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.

You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.

“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.

Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.

He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”

When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.

You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.

It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?

Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”

You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.

“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.

The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”

He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”

Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.

“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”

In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”

He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.

But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.

It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.

But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”

Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.

He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”

You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”

Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.

You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”

~*~

Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.

The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.

It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.

You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.

Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.

Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”

Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”

You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”

A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.

“In a bit.”

You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.

He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.

You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”

You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”

There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.

Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.

“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.

Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.

You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.

“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.

He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”

You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.

“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”

His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.

With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.

“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.

Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.

“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.

He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.

You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.

“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.

With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”

He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.

At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.

“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”

You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.

The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”

There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.

Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.

“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.

“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”

He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.

Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.

The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”

“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”

You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.

You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.

“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”

Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”

A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”

He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.

As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.

That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.

“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”

This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.

As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.

“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.

“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”

Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.

A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.

With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.

Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.

“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”

A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”

Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”

The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”

“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.

#jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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seospicybin · 3 months

Text

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART II

Seungmin x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Seungmin become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (13,8k words)

Author's note: Enjoy this one too and let me know what you think about it :)

SEUNGMIN: I may be an athlete, but I don't compete to get girls. I attract what I want and oftentimes, I get what I want [smiles] I'm a pretty straightforward person. Am I wild? [Laughs] Guess we'll find out?

In his profession, Seungmin relies a lot on his instincts.

If Seungmin thinks the pitcher is going to throw a four-seam fastball, he would want to get the ball down in the zone. If it's a tow-seam fastball, he should raise his bat about thigh high and if he notices any different type of motion or slowing of arm speed, he'd better expect a change-up.

When Seungmin first sees you, his instinct tells him that he should choose you.

People always talk about physical attraction, well, yes, how can Seungmin is not attracted to you? You're pleasing to the eyes. Your eyes, your lips, your sparkling eyes, and your sonorous laugh, they're all attractive.

What interests him more is still there hiding inside you. He wants to talk more to you, know your thoughts and ideas, if he's lucky enough, he wants to know your hopes and dreams too.

For now, permission and a kiss would suffice.

The kiss, oh... it's like fireworks are going off from inside his chest and exploding in his head, filling it with sparks.

"That was good," You shyly mutter while trying to hold his gaze.

"Well, you can have more if you want," he coyly says.

The two of you are looking into each other eyes, still reeling from what he thought was the nicest first kiss you both shared.

Seungmin is aware that someone is appearing behind him as you look past his shoulder, looking like you just got caught doing something.

"Hey, guys," Issa says.

"Hey, babes," you reply with a smile.

Seungmin sees the curiosity filling her eyes as Issa looks at you and then looks at him. She seems to have figured it out as her lips curl into a sly smile.

"Lana called," Issa informs.

"Oh, okay, we're coming," you tell her.

After Issa left, you start fixing your hair and dress even though the two of you only kissed once, nothing else. You repeatedly tuck your hair behind your ear.

"Do I look alright?" You ask him, smacking your lips together to gain what's left on your lipsticks.

He helps you put a strand of hair away from your lips, "You look perfect," he answers.

You crack a smile and do it once more with your eyes closed, it's adorable to him.

Seungmin gets up first then he holds his hand out at you because he knows you can't freely move in such a tight dress.

SEUNGMIN: I didn't plan on breaking the rule this fast but she's just irresistible and the moment was right.

Never in his life, had Seungmin thought that he would sit and hear a cone talking. Well, there's a first to everything.

What he doesn't get is how nervous everyone is. He knows that Lana is going to announce the rule breaks and anyone who broke the rules should be aware of the consequences.

Seungmin knows what he did, therefore, he's ready to face what's coming to him.

He gets a little startled when the cone chimes as it sits in the middle of the long, wooden table.

"Good evening!" Lana greets.

Tom reclines on the single sofa and asks, "What's good, Lana?"

"I must regretfully inform you of a breach of the rules," she informs.

Seungmin knows better that it's better to immediately come forward. He doesn't wait for anyone to get suspicious of each other and clears his throat.

"I'm just going to tell you guys right away—"

Adriana's gasp cuts him off, "Wait, what?"

Everyone is either not expecting that it's him or that he'd rule break when he's only been here for a day.

"With who?" Vale asks but his eyes already looking at the answer.

Seungmin turns his head at you, finding you sheepishly smiling and then he holds your hand, showing everyone who he kissed with.

"You..." Lili teasingly says, pointing her small index finger at you while everyone is cooing at you both.

"I initiated the kiss, the moment was right so..." Seungmin explains, ignoring how awkward it is to tell everyone why he kissed a girl.

Tom blinks his eyes a few times then says, "I didn't see this one coming."

"I wanted to do it and I... want to see where things go with her," Seungmin furtherly explains, not caring if anyone trusts him or not.

"This kiss has cost the group $6,000," Lana announces.

Okay, now Seungmin gets it why everyone is so nervous? It's not so much about the rule break, it's losing the money.

SEUNGMIN: Well, at the end of the day, what's done is done [shrugs]

It's endearing how Seungmin admitted everything and the way he openly tells everyone that he wants to take things further with you, oh! you get butterflies in your stomach.

That $6,000 deduction hurts less when you did it with the right person and it's worth it, you know you can trust Seungmin enough to see where things take you.

You lean into his side and lowly mutter into his ear, "That's so nice of you."

Seungmin looks at you to return your compliment with a soft smile that makes him look a thousand times cuter and these butterflies won't stop flying in your stomach any sooner.

"There's another breach of the rules," Lana announces.

You feel less nervous now the rule break thing has gone out of the way but hearing someone else did a rule break, you start to be concerned about the money.

"Oh, no!" Lili gasps.

A kiss or two is excusable because sometimes, a little physical affection is necessary in getting to know someone but other than that, you're not sure you can tolerate it.

"It's either you or you guys," Lili points at Issa and Jeff and Devon and Elliott.

"Or them," Jeff adds, pointing at Adriana and Tom.

Adriana subtly rolls her eyes, "I can promise you, we're innocent," she assures.

It's safe to assume that it's the couple who has spent the most money on the retreat so far. You lean forward and look at them with eyes full of suspicion, "Do you have something to say, Elliott?"

"No," Elliott immediately answers with a slow head shake.

While Devon is busy fixing her hair even though it's safely tucked into a neat bun on the back of her head. If Devon acting antsy is not enough answer, it's the awkward silence that gives it away.

"Uh-oh!" Adriana mutters, spotting the culprit with her siren eyes.

She has another strategy to make them confess, "Do you want to explain, Devon?"

Devon tries to stay calm and suddenly, she bursts into laughter then says, "I'm sorry."

Everyone reacts almost the same way, groaning in disbelief and also disappointed that they keep being selfish by rulebreaking.

Tom aggressively rakes his hair to the back and groans, "God, bro? Why did you keep lying to us?"

"We didn't lie. We choose to say nothing," he defends himself.

"Well, that's a lie," Vale corrects him.

It's kind of ballsy of Elliott to keep defending his wrongdoings instead of simply admitting it and apologizing. He makes it hard for himself and only makes everyone else lose their respect for him.

Devon tries to take control of the situation, "Okay, guys, let me explain, the first kiss we did in the bedroom—"

"What? You kissed more than once?" Issa asks with eyes widening.

"Oh, my..." Lili mutters in despair.

"Are you serious?" Tom is almost losing his shit knowing that he'll lose more money tonight.

Devon only realizes what she did a while later and quietly sighs, "Oh, shit..."

It seems like you're the only one with any patience left in you. You take a deep breath and try to assess the damage to prepare everyone.

"Did you guys do something else?"

Devon's subtle smile says so much and you believe you have just lost your patience as well. You lean back and just want to get it over with.

"Look, it-it..." Elliott is stuttering and ends up laughing.

Devon yanks the sleeve of his shirt, "Stop laughing," she scolds him.

"Take that grin off your face!" Adriana scolds him more.

Elliott pulls himself together and says, "I think there was a uh... heavy petting too."

No one is having it, if anything everyone has for them is a disappointment. The more everyone hears about it, the worse it gets so everyone sort of gives up talking altogether.

"These three rule breaks have cost the group an additional $16,000."

There's a dead silence hanging in the air after Lana announces the money deduction and what everyone is going to hear next will feel like a slap to the face.

"The prize fund now stands at $154,000."

Tom lets out a heavy, stressful sigh, "At the end of the day, we're just playing with money," he grumbles.

"Elliott and Devon, although you are displaying early signs of a deeper bond, you are spending too much energy concentrating on a physical connection rather than an emotional one," Lana says.

You're not the one who committed the act but you shake a little to hear Lana saying she's not pleased with what she witnessed.

"And as you have cost the group the most money, I am setting you an additional test."

Whatever coming to Devon and Elliott, It's not going to be a good one.

"You will spend the night in the suite," Lana announces.

YOU: Oh, hell no! We're going to be in debt, for real.

Okay, now, Seungmin gets why everyone was so nervous at the beginning, we just don't know what will happen and how it's going to turn out.

Another thing he learned is that he shouldn't be underestimating the cone, Lana is the one with power in here.

"This is your chance to show the group that your connection is more than just physical."

Lana warns Elliott and Devon, but mostly, Elliott since he's the one who's not only wrong but provoking everyone with his answers while at it.

Seungmin has been biting his tongue, he's only been here for a day so he's not sure if he can have a say on it but seeing that everyone seems to be at a loss for words, he feels the urge to say something.

"You did lie to everyone," Seungmin points out the main thing that angers everyone the most.

"This is your only chance to earn everyone's trust back," he tells him.

"Okay," Elliott accepts his words well.

"You may now leave to the private suite," Lana orders.

Everyone has no trust in them as they watch them leave to the private suite, letting them go with the thought that they'll fail the test.

Everyone is ready to leave the cabana and sleep this misery away when Lana starts talking again.

"That is not all."

"Oh, my days!" Vale gasps, sensing that it's not a good sign.

"Good judgment and in particular, knowing who can and can't be trusted is an essential skill for developing healthy long-lasting relationships."

Seungmin is in awe at how well Lana on keeping everyone on their toes, not letting everyone know what her next move is.

"That's why Elliott and Devon are not the only ones being tested tonight. If you do not trust them, you can choose to forfeit $10,000 which will cover all potential rule breaks in the suite."

Everyone is gasping to hear that Lana is asking everyone to involuntarily gamble with the prize money.

"However, if you choose to put your faith in them and they fail, you will be charged for every single rule break. With fines now doubled, that could be a very expensive lapse of judgment."

Seungmin turns his head to the side to see your mouth is hanging open. He reckons you're slightly shocked by everything you hear.

"So, will you have faith or will you forfeit?" Lana asks the big question.

Then Seungmin looks the other way, looking at Tom who's getting more stressed in each passing second.

"How much do we trust them?" Adriana opens the debatable question.

"I don't have trust in them. Nothing, none," Tom immediately answers like he's one hundred percent sure he's right.

You scoot to the edge of your seat to speak up, "Elliott is a rebel. He's most likely to break a rule and I think they're going to do something in there," you give your opinion.

Now that puts you in the same team with Tom which he gladly welcomes with a strong argument.

"They're going to be alone in the suite," he adds.

Adriana puts it simply for everyone, "Should we take a risk or should we play it safe?"

Everyone starts speaking up as well, giving their insights on this whole trust thing and Seungmin is intently listening to each opinion to take into consideration.

"If they're serious about the relationship, they won't do anything," Issa says.

Jeff agrees with her, "I back them."

"They have something to prove and it'll look bad for us not trusting them, actually," Vale gives his opinion.

You're nodding to his words and that seems to change your mind as well, Seungmin only recently learned that the person you’re closest with is him, Vale.

"He made a promise that he wasn't going to do anything," Blake says.

"He said the same thing last time," Adriana breaks his conviction.

"I got no faith," Tom remarks, period on point.

"Vale, I agree with you but if they disappoint us, I will not trust them again," you make a firm statement.

Against the doubts that slip through everyone's mind, everyone has voted to trust them, except that Tom is doing it unwillingly.

"I have noted your decision to put your faith in Elliott and Devon," Lana accepted the decision.

SEUNGMIN: Everyone puts their neck out for them so I hope Elliott keeps his promise.

Thankfully, Lili is very understanding when you tell her that you're sharing the bed with Seungmin and she has to sleep with someone else, you entrusted her to Vale.

A part of you wants to test yourself on how well can you handle temptations but another part of you tells you that you'd most likely fail because Seungmin is low-key too hot to handle.

Seungmin comes to the bed with his hair tousled and somehow, it only makes him more attractive. He gets on the bed, putting a pillow behind him before resting his back against it.

"Did you just dry your hair?" You ask.

He gives it a ruffle, "Yeah, is it messy?"

You softly laugh and help him, brushing his hair with your fingers to make it less messy.

"Your hair is so fluffy," you compliment.

He looks at you as you use both of your hands to brush the hair on each side of his head, "You like it?"

"Mm-hm," you answer with a smile.

"I missed a month of haircut," he informs, putting away the hair out of his eyes.

Your hand goes through the hair on the back of his head and let your hand rest on the nape of his neck for a moment.

"You look like a puppy," you playfully tell him.

Seungmin smiles in reaction and it only proves your words, he has that golden retriever energy, bright and playful. To put it simply, it's impossible to not like him.

There's a conversation going on in the room about whether Devon and Elliott will pass the test or everyone is going to lose more money tomorrow morning. You're listening but your eyes are focusing on the space on the bed between you and him, you hesitate to just scoot closer to him, he seems like the type of person who respects someone's personal space.

It's only when the lights are out that you lie on your side facing him and then ask, "Do you like to cuddle?"

Seungmin turns to lay on his side to face you, "Not really," he answers.

So your guess is right, he's not a cuddly person and you shouldn't be disappointed, it's just a preference, it's nothing personal.

"Are you?" Seungmin asks back.

You tuck a hand under your head and focus on looking at his gleaming eyes in the dark of the room, "Well, I would love a cuddle or two from you," you honestly answer.

He catches your hand lying on the space between the two of you, "I can do a cuddle or two," he says.

"How about more than two?" You jokingly ask.

Even in the dark, you can see his cute smile as he slips his fingers into the spaces between your fingers, "I can do that too," he murmurs.

You hold his hand back and smile, "Okay, great."

You and Seungmin are lying facing each other with hands intertwined, enjoying the quiet that slowly takes over the space as everyone else starts to drift into sleep.

However, you can no longer fight the drowsiness, "I'm sleepy," you sheepishly tell him.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and places a soft kiss on your knuckle, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," you murmur back with a smile.

You close your eyes feeling incredibly relaxed as Seungmin places gentle rubs on your back until you fall asleep.

YOU: Oh, my God! I think I like Seungmin. Seungmin, the baseball player.

The room is dark but he can see through the curtain that the sun has risen, Seungmin wakes up earlier than anyone else, including you.

Seeing that your hair covering your face, Seungmin gently put the stray hair away to the side and to the back. You look so beautiful peacefully sleeping on your pillow that he's afraid that he'll wake you up.

Seungmin then rests his hand on the dip of your waist, following the rise and fall of your body as you breathe. He gets closer so he can hold you, gently putting his arm around you without waking you up.

He feels snug, he feels like he can go back to sleep but as he's about to close his eyes, the room lights up.

Everyone is groaning as light floods the room and blinds their eyes which are still heavy with sleep.

"Morning everyone," Adriana croaks as she pulls herself out of the duvet.

Turning his head to the side and seeing you still sleeping, Seungmin can't find it in him to wake you up but he begins by softly rubbing your shoulder to not startle you awake. Then he moves his hand to your face, using his knuckle to caress your cheek and your eyes are fluttering open like butterflies batting their wings.

"Still sleepy?" He asks with his hand cupping your jaw.

You nod and instead of getting up, you snuggle to him and rest your head on his chest.

As everyone slowly gains their senses back and is ready to start another day in the retreat, Lana chimes in for her morning greeting.

"Good morning, everyone."

"Morning," you reply with a sleepy voice.

"After putting your prize fund on the line last night and deciding to trust repeat offenders, Devon and Elliott," Lana reminds everyone of the doom looming over everyone's heads since last night.

Everyone turns their heads to see Devon and Elliott's empty bed and is hit by the realization of their grim, uncertain fate.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Lili sighs and says, "Nervous."

"Scared," Issa honestly answers.

"And on edge," Jeff adds.

Cara the new girl who has been quiet since last night, finally gives her opinion, "I don't think they'd be stupid enough to put themselves in a situation where they would spend money more than they have lost."

However, Adriana is the only one not accepting her opinion well, "I disagree. Their track record is so shit."

Tom who is adamant about protecting the money supports her argument, "$10,000 would have been a lot safer in my opinion."

What they said seems to sway everyone's faith in Devon and Elliott. Seungmin can see that everyone starts to doubt their decision to trust them and put so much money on the line.

Whether they lose money or not, this is not how Seungmin wants to start the day.

SEUNGMIN: We put our trust in them... well, some of us. Let's hope they prove themselves to be worthy of our trust.

As a baseball player, Seungmin has a rigorous workout routine and he usually starts the day with a morning run. Since it's impossible to do here, he decides to do some simple exercises in the makeshift gym by the beach.

Before he gets back to the villa, he goes for a swim in the sea and walks back with water dripping from his swimming trunks.

In the bathroom, he finds Blake standing by the sink, his big body almost covers the whole mirror. Hearing that someone else entered the room, he looks over his shoulder.

"Hey, man," he greets him with dollops of sunscreen on both of his cheeks.

Seungmin hangs his towel at the handle of the shower door, "Hey," he replies.

He goes to the sink to retrieve his toiletry bag from the drawer.

"I see that you picked a bird, huh?" Blake says.

Seungmin has to take a moment to process his words and what he meant by a bird is a girl, he got himself a girl, you.

"Yeah..." Seungmin awkwardly replies, he heads to the shower thinking that Blake is done talking.

"You got a wild one, bro," Blake is applying the sunscreen all over his face as he speaks.

"What are you trying to say?" Seungmin asks and wonders if he's taunting him or trying to make a joke here.

Blake lets out a chuckle as he washes his hands under the running water, "She broke a rule with Elliott once."

Is that supposed to make him mad? Well, if it happened recently then it would be a problem but he obviously came here after that happened so Seungmin has no idea what he has to do with that information.

He decides to ignore him and goes into the shower, not wanting to continue the talk that shouldn't be his business in the first place.

Also, it shouldn't be Blake's either.

SEUNGMIN: I don't know what Blake's intention is but this is something that I don't want to hear from someone else.

All you need is a few sprays of hairspray to keep the hairstyle intact for the next few hours, you carefully apply it to your hair with your eyes closed.

When you open your eyes, you catch Seungmin's reflection in the mirror. Half-naked with his hair wet, Seungmin is walking to his closet that is located right behind your chair. You turn around on your chair and use the opportunity to ogle him, admiring his lean body with muscles in the right places and they're just in perfect sizes.

Imagine looking that hot yet so unaware of it.

"Hey, baby," you sweetly say, holding your hand out at him.

Instead of taking your hand, he reaches for your chin and gives your cheek a quick caress.

You smile in reaction and ask, "How do I look?"

"Perfect," he shortly says.

You take his hand and hold it as he looks for something inside his closet, "Let me dry your hair for you," you offer.

"Okay. Give me a minute," he gladly accepts the offer by letting go of your hand so he can put his shirt on.

Unlike most women, you like treating your partner with simple things like this.

Seungmin is sitting still as you work on his hair, drying it with a hairdryer. You don't have to put a lot of effort into it since he has short hair, finish it by applying a hair oil with your fingers slipping through his fine, dark hair.

He does the rest, brushing his hair with a comb and styling it how he wants it to be.

You rest your hands on his square shoulders and ask, "Did I do a good job?"

He fixes the hair falling over his head, "Not bad," he responds.

You bravely cup his chin while looking at his face through the elliptical-shaped mirror, "You're so gorgeous," you compliment.

He takes your hands and brings it close to his mouth. When you think he's going to kiss it like last night, he bites at your fingers instead.

"Ouch!" You yelp in pain.

He laughs in satisfaction and hurriedly makes up for it by placing a kiss on your inner wrist. He then drops his head to the back to look at you, seeing you eye-to-eye.

"Thank you," he sweetly murmurs.

You gently tap his cheek, "You're very welcome."

You like attractive men but you like it more when they act like true gentlemen and a true gentleman is rare. But it seems like you're lucky to have found one.

The only way Lana knows how to have fun is by interrupting a sweet moment like this. You both stop moving and talking altogether to hear what the cone has to say.

"Please assemble everyone in the cabana," Lana orders.

"Got it, boss," you reply, reluctantly letting your hands go from around Seungmin's neck.

It's not hard to gather everyone as most of them are chilling by the pool, you can tell them about Lana's order on the way to the cabana.

The stress from last night continues once everyone realizes that Elliott and Devon will be returning from the private suite soon.

Speak of the devil, here they come, looking so happy like they're coming back from a honeymoon instead of a test. They take the small sofa on the side of the room while ignoring the death stares directed at them.

Jeff is the first one breaking the silence, "Anything you want to share?"

Here comes Elliott's grin and it's not a good sign, "It was very enjoyable," he answers.

Devon is smiling next to him and letting him do all the talk.

"There are roses on the bed, champagne, bathtub," Elliott continues, giving everyone the wrong ideas.

Next to Seungmin, Vale lowly sighs and mutters through his gritted teeth, "They're fucking breaking rules."

YOU: We're fucked if they fucked!

Lana finally comes in and goes straight to business, "Devon and Elliott, last night I gave you the opportunity to show the group your genuine connection without surrendering to your physical desires. However, your connection wasn't the only thing I was testing."

Elliott's grin wavers for a second at the revelation that Lana did something behind their backs.

"While you were away I gave your fellow guests a test of trust in you. If they didn't trust you, they could forfeit $10,000 to cover all your potential rule breaks in the suite."

Now it's Devon's smile that gradually fades from her face and into a panic expression.

"Or they could choose to have faith in you, meaning that any rule breaks would receive the appropriate financial penalties."

Devon and Elliott exchange a look and turn rigid on their seats, it's enough to tell everyone that they did something.

"I can now reveal the group chose to trust you," Lana informs.

Tom hurriedly comments on it, "Not me. I don't have a lot of faith in you guys," he audaciously tells them.

Elliott sadly smiles, "I understand," he says.

You hear Lili sighing next to you and when you look at her, she leans in and whispers, "Seriously though, they're not looking hopeful."

One thing you know for sure is that Tom is ready to give a long I-told-you-so speech right at everyone's faces.

"Devon and Elliot I must now tell the group that you..."

For an AI, Lana knows how to build the suspense.

"...did not break any rules!"

You feel like you can finally breathe at ease while everyone else is cheering and applauding Devon and Elliott for proving that everyone was right to trust them.

"Even though you were very close to breaking the rules last night, I can confirm the prize fund still stands at $154,000."

Your head is turned to see Tom and Adriana who have the least faith in them and they're smiling, you can see a bit of regret on their faces for being too negative about the decision to trust them.

YOU: So they do know how to keep it in their pants, huh?

Despite the most spending couple in retreat has succeeded in passing Lana's test, that doesn't stop Tom from keeping everyone on his watch to make sure the money stays at $154,000.

You and Seungmin are having wine in the firepit, sitting close next to each other with your legs over his lap and enjoying the warmth of the fire swaying with the night breeze.

Seeing him up close is almost surreal because of how handsome he is, you trail down his jaw with your finger and gently tap his chin after.

"You have a very sharp jaw," you emphasize every word in awe.

Seungmin takes a sip of his drink before speaking, "Don't cut yourself then," he says with a sly smile.

You playfully slap his chest in reaction and burst into laughter almost at the same time.

You fix your hair and look at him, "It's your turn to compliment me," you demand.

He puts his drink away and licks his lips, "I didn't know that I have to compliment you back."

You dramatically roll your eyes, "Just say something nice about me, please?"

He laughs and puts his arm around you, drawing you closer to him as he thinks of something to say. He looks at you, trying to find something he can compliment on but you end up being drowned in his eyes.

"Your eyes, nose, lips..." he starts.

You stare back into his eyes, "Yeah?"

"They're parked perfectly," he finishes his words.

Once what he said registered in your head, you burst into laughter, "Parked?"

He nods while foolishly grinning, proud at his creative way of saying you're beautiful, "You got 100 points for parking them perfectly," he compliments again.

Flustered and amused, you put your arms around his neck and hug him, sharing laughter until the sex cop comes crashing.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

You both abruptly stop laughing and turn your head to look at Tom, standing at the top of the steps that lead down to the firepit.

"Are we being safe?" He asks you both, looking at you like a parent seeing his child having her boyfriend over.

And you act like you've been caught doing things with your boyfriend, reluctantly taking your hands away from Seungmin.

"Yes, Dad!" You jokingly respond.

Tom nods in approval and turns to leave, before he walks away, he turns around to say, "Keep your hands to yourself, 'kay?"

"Got it, Dad!" You shout at him.

You may have taken your hands off of Seungmin but you use it as a chance to change position, you make him sit on the end of the long sofa and you sit between his legs with your back resting against his chest so he can take his turns to put his hands around you.

The night is warm, the wind is softly blowing and the sky is full of stars.

Maybe it's because you haven't been with a man for a while or it's because of him, either way, you feel incredibly at ease.

You softly rub his forearm and delightfully sigh with your eyes closed, "This is nice."

Seungmin places his hand on yours and slips his fingers in, "I heard that you have broken the rules before," he says.

That comes out of the blue and you don't expect him to address this matter since it happened way before he came to the villa.

Yet you find yourself stammering in answer, "Y-yeah, I did."

"Oh," Seungmin simply responds.

That 'oh' sounds harmless but you start overanalyzing it, mostly because you don't want Seungmin to get the wrong idea, thinking that you're trying to hide it from him.

"Okay, now I feel bad for not telling you," you sadly mutter.

"It's okay. You don't need to tell me," he assures you.

Regardless of how he obtained this information, he deserves to know why you did it and whether you still have involvement whatsoever with the person you committed the rule break with.

"I didn't feel like I needed to tell you about it because the kiss that I did with Elliot... I was bored, I did it for fun," you explain.

You hold his hand back and tip your head to the side so you can look at him as you speak, "But the kiss that I did with you is not, it was personal."

You take a deep breath before ending it with a sincere apology, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Seungmin has been so quiet for a moment that you doubt he's accepting it well. You squeeze his hand to gain a reaction from him and ask, "How do you feel though?"

He inhales air and leans in to look at you, "I don't like to play games or in competition with someone else," he begins.

You don't want to overthink but you fear that he'll change his mind because of how you keep things to yourself.

"I know my worth I respect myself. I feel that if someone else can't see that, then that's on them but I don't hang around for that," he remarks.

You always know that Seungmin is very forthright, he says what's in his head, knows what he wants, and goes for it. Ultimately, he doesn't waste time on someone who doesn't acknowledge his worth and you fear that you're that someone.

You need to assure him that you do know his worth and you want to keep building connections with him. You mull things over in your head and try to fathom them into words.

"I do want to get to know you. I feel drawn to you and it's genuine and honestly, I feel more connected with you than I did with anyone else," you tell him how you feel as best as you can.

Seungmin repeatedly rubs his hand up and down your arm to keep you warm and comfort you. He then rests his hand on top of your clasped hands, "I just want to move forward and be open, there's so much more of you that I want to get to know," he says.

It's rare to find someone who's as wise and as gentle as he is. You really are lucky to have found and met him, and lucky that he chose you too. You want to get to know him more as well and risk falling deeper into him. As if you mind.

"Me too," you tell him with a grateful smile.

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and let out a breath of relief, trying to suppress the urge to kiss him.

"I want to kiss you but we can't," you mutter.

"Actually, we can," he corrects you.

You softly chuckle and raise your eyebrow at him, "We can but we can't."

YOU: I'm so grateful for Seungmin and I feel more confident about taking this further with him.

It takes time for Seungmin to get comfortable around someone.

He likes you, yes but he likes being in his personal space so much it's hard to let someone in. It's nothing personal, it's just who he is.

However, he looks forward to bedtimes the most because then you'd be lying close next to him.

A smile rises on your face as you get on the bed, crawl over to him and adorably ask, "Can we have a cuddle or two?"

He notices the anticipation on your face but what he likes seeing are the sparkles in your eyes as you wait for his answer.

Seungmin doesn't say anything but spreads his arms out, letting you dive into his warm embrace.

"Guys, guys," Tom claps his hands to get everyone's attention.

You keep your head rested on his chest while Seungmin pays attention to what Tom is about to say.

"I think we're all in agreement that we will not rule break and I just want to know if that stays true right?" He asks.

He can't speak for everyone but Seungmin can't remember when he did agree to this. However, everyone is half-heartedly replying to Tom.

"I love you guys but be good," he concludes.

Seungmin has a good restraint, but when he gets told to not do something, he wants to do it more. Plus, you're snuggling up to him and your body starts to mold to him, he would be lying if he didn't get the urge to kiss or touch you or do more than that.

When he looks down and sees your face this close, your eyes closed and your lower lip is jutting out, oh... he wants to kiss you bad.

Even after the lights are out, Tom looks at everyone in the room to say one last thing, "I'll be watching," he says.

After a few minutes though, he fails his task as he falls asleep next to Adriana. It would be hard to fall asleep with Tom's snores filling the room yet cuddling you makes him relaxed that his eyes are drooping.

As he slowly descends into slumber, you shift on the bed and plant a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Goodnight, baby," you murmur, then you turn over and lay on your side of the bed with your back facing him.

Now Seungmin finds it hard to sleep without your warm body lying close to him so he closes the gap between your bodies and puts his arm around you.

A while later, you let your body mold into him once more and hold the hand resting on your waist. Without looking, he can hear you smiling as he holds you close.

Seungmin lands a caress on your head and kisses your temple, now he can finally murmur back to you, "Goodnight."

SEUNGMIN: The talk that we had reassures me that I was right to choose her.

A few days have passed and you enjoy getting to know Seungmin more.

He told you a lot about him that besides baseball, he likes music, he likes playing piano, he likes to write in his journal and he doesn't like watching movies without knowing the ending first.

Everything about him is one of a kind but that's what makes him special. The two of you got closer the more you shared things about each other.

And today, you'll get a lot more closer to him.

All of the guests are being gathered in the garden for a workshop and someone has been waiting there, you assume she's going to be leading the workshop.

You take the mat in the back with Seungmin and sit cross-legged as the instructor introduces herself as Haley, a sex expert.

Her profession surely intrigues everyone and whether it's going to help them suppress their sexual urges.

"First, I want to ask you guys what is your version of a perfect partner?" Haley opens the workshop with a question.

"Nice body?" Jeff answers.

"Okay," Haley says with a nod, accepting Jeff's answer.

"Anyone else?" She invites everyone to share their answers.

"I like girls with skinny model bodies," Vale honestly shares.

"I don't want to be with someone who doesn't look as good," Cara gives a way too honest answer.

Everyone is laughing except Blake who is her partner for today's workshop. Hearing everyone's answers, you can see how people can be so shallow with what they want, they only see the surface, the superficial and that's including you.

Haley moves on to explain what the workshop will be about, "In today's workshop, we're going to release any perfectionism. We're just going to let ourselves get a bit... messy."

She pauses hearing everyone get excited for it, "Are you guys into that?"

You turn your head to the side at Seungmin, wanting to check whether he's as excited as anyone else.

The answer is no, he's not that excited.

"You guys can start!" Haley announces.

There are bowls of body paints prepared for the workshop and the two of you can paint each other's bodies with it. You get up and stand facing each other, then suddenly, have no idea how to start.

"I don't like getting messy," Seungmin says.

As expected, body painting is not something that Seungmin would do to have fun. You pick up a bowl of pink paint and dip your finger into the thick, pigmented texture of the paint.

"Well then I'll be the one having the most fun," you say as you rub the paint onto his nose.

And before he can complain, you smear the paint onto his cheek, laughing at how his face is covered in pink paint.

Eventually, Seungmin starts painting your body as well, he uses the green one while you use the yellow one, drawing a heart on his chest.

"See if you can just let go a bit. Let go of control, let go of inhibitions," Haley encourages everyone to stop being so careful and just be free.

You see everyone is only using their fingers to paint each other's bodies, not willing to get any other parts of their body to get dirty.

"Stop thinking! Stop worrying about what you look like. Let yourself just go free, get wild!" Haley encourages more.

It gives you an idea, instead of dipping your fingers into the bowl of paint, you pour it onto Seungmin's shoulder and lather it all over him.

"What are you doing?" Seungmin asks.

"I'm having fun," you simply answer.

You want Seungmin to not be afraid of getting wild or making a fool of himself, you want to have fun with him so first, you have to show him how.

"And you should too," you add, taking his hand and dipping his whole hand into the bowl.

Then you turn around, presenting your butt cheeks at him, and shamelessly request, "Make a handprint on my buttcheeks."

Seungmin stands rigidly with his hand tainted blue, "What?"

"Slap my butt!" You make it simpler for him.

It takes him a while to understand your request and once he did, he lands a good slap on your left buttcheek, creating a print of his big hand on it.

Haley notices what the two of you are doing and likes what she's seeing, "Love it! More of that!"

That seems to motivate Seungmin to make another handprint on your other buttcheek, he lands a harder slap which makes it even better.

Soon, everyone starts to loosen up, playing with both the paints and bodies, investing in the workshop, or merely using it as an excuse to feel each other's bodies.

"Catch them off guard!" Haley says as she supervises everyone.

After picking up a bowl of paint, you turn around to get greeted by a dollop of orange paint Seungmin throws at you. You scoop some green and get back at him, splashing it all over his back.

The next thing you know, you both are having fun, and as a matter of fact, the two of you are the only ones having the most fun out of everyone.

"You're not drawing penises on my back, right?" Seungmin jokingly asks as you draw more stars on his back.

"Nope," you reply, "Just some boobies."

You're running out of paints and to make it all worth it, you scoop the last of the red paint, then rub it all over your chest.

"Baby, look over here!" You tell him.

Seungmin obeys you, looking at you with his face covered in pink, green, and yellow.

Catching him off guard, you bring his head close and bury it between your breasts, lathering the red paint all over his face.

Instead of complaining, Seungmin pulls away laughing with fresh red paint on his face and you laugh along, seeing how much he enjoys it.

"Notice if you feel embarrassed to just see each other, now that you've stopped worrying what you look like," Haley remarks.

Seungmin wipes the remaining paint onto his stomach and pulls you into a hug, you can feel the paint getting all over your front too.

You both just stand there and have a laugh looking at each other looking silly in colorful paints, you see your mess on him and he sees his mess on you yet you both still look perfect to each other.

"You guys did amazing in today's workshop. I hope that you let go, you got a bit more free, you find some joy, laughter in being imperfect," Haley concludes at the end of the workshop.

Now that the workshop has ended, all you can think about is how Seungmin's hands were all over you.

YOU: We had so much fun. I don't think I'd be having that much fun if I did it with someone else [smiles]

Unfortunately, the fun doesn't last long.

You were straightening your hair when the cone in the dressing room chimes, you abruptly stop moving and so is everyone else, it's like the world pauses for a second to hear what Lana has to say.

"Everyone," Lana says.

No greeting whatsoever, she's addressing everyone in the room and you sense that she's not pleased with something.

"Hi, Lana!" Lili weakly replies as she's busy braiding her hair.

"You must all gather in the cabana immediately!"

Uh-oh! Lana is pissed but why? Everyone's been good.

Or that's just how they seemed to you, you never know with these people, especially Devon and Elliott. Lana never urges everyone like this before so it's safe to assume that someone messed up.

"What the fuck is going to happen?" Tom mutters, looking so stressed already.

All the eyes in the room are suspiciously glancing at each other as you get too anxious to even bother straightening the rest of your hair.

Even though you and Seungmin struggling to keep your hands off of each other, you managed to not break any rules. But still... in here you'll get penalized for something you didn't even do.

"Good evening," Lana greets.

"What's good, Lana?" Tom asks with a thin smile.

You can only hope that Lana is playing with our minds and actually gathered everyone to deliver good news, for instance, she feels generous tonight and drops $10,000 into the prize fund. Oh well, that's just your wishful thinking.

"I must regretfully inform you that there has been a breach of the rules."

And here we go again, everyone is once again playing the game of "whodunit" that sadly costs money.

Adriana looks around, "Who is it?"

"Who did it?" Issa says with a threatening voice.

You can only hope that this is not the time you find out that one is stupid enough to commit serious rule breaks.

"Elliott?" Tom asks him since he's grinning like a guilty man.

Elliott shrugs his accusation away and coyly says, "Nah.

He may be putting on a good poker face but Devon? Not so much. She keeps hiding her face behind Elliott's shoulder and avoiding suspicious eyes.

"You're awfully quiet right now, Devon," Vale says with suspicion.

"Did you break another rule?" Lili asks with a soft tone like an understanding mother.

Ever slowly, Elliott's grin is getting wider and wider, exposing the truth he's hiding behind it.

"Ugh! No!" Tom groans, raking his hair with his fingers.

"I can't believe you guys kissed again!" Adriana says, her voice tinted with jealousy as they extravagantly spend money when she can't even get her man to do a single rule break.

Judging from their silence, you sense that it's not just a kiss, "or it wasn't just a kiss...?"

Your question only heightens the tension and everyone's heads are turning in at Devon and Elliott as they occupying the single sofa on the other end of the room.

"Spit it out!" Tom impatiently demands.

Devon only keeps on sighing while Elliott is looking like he has his life flashes before his eyes.

"Just tell us what you did!" Adriana urges them.

Elliott is foolishly grinning his stress away and finally answers, "Coitus."

"What the hell is coitus?" Lili innocently asks.

"Sex," Issa shortly replies.

"Oh, fuck!" The profanity automatically falls out of Lili's mouth.

It's unfair that you were having a good day until two people decided to make your worst fear come true. A kiss is already $6,000 and you don't want to guess how much for sex.

YOU: I mean… Seungmin and I have been resisting temptations.

"I must inform you that sex was not the only thing that took place in the bathroom," Lana continues.

You nervously bite at your thumb, thinking how stupid can they be to break so many rules all at once. Have they always been thinking about themselves?

"That's so stupid!" Adriana doesn't hold back.

Elliott lets out a dry chuckle, "It's not that bad," he calmly says.

From his answer, you can see how stupid he is. What makes him think that answer would make everyone feel better?

"No, Elliott, you're being stupid and selfish," Vale points out, stealing the words out of your mouth.

"Are you aware that what you did got the whole team penalized?" Adriana scolds them more, putting some sense into their heads.

Tom holds Adriana down by putting his hands on her hands. It's the first time he is being the reasonable one out of him and Adriana.

"Let's just hear how much money we've lost," he says.

Lana continues with the announcement, delivering bad news one after the other.

"Elliott and Devon, the fact that the fines were recently doubled does not seem to have deterred you from breaking the rules of the retreat. Today's multiple indiscretions have cost the group..."

You know you wouldn't like what you're going to hear but to soften the blow, you prepare yourself by taking a few deep breaths.

"... $50,000."

Your jaws drop open but nothing comes out of your mouth, you're just at a loss for words. $50,000? You could have paid months' worth of bills and rent with that much money.

"What the hell?"

"That's so expensive!"

Tom is in utter shock that it takes him a few minutes to respond to it, "That's crazy!"

Elliott comes with another ignorant-sounding response, "Our bad. Alright, okay."

Tom claps his hands together and leans forward on his seat, "Do you guys even have respect for us?"

Elliott starts to blabbering around as Devon only sits next to him, saying nothing.

"It's just th-that we have feelings for each other and—"

Adriana cuts right through his words, "So you guys are going to keep doing it?"

"No, no," Elliott hurriedly denies, "That's it."

Everyone is turning on them no matter how hard Elliott is defending himself, he should know by now that he's in the wrong.

"You guys are right. I'm very sorry," he concludes with a regretful tone.

"The prize fund now stands at $104,000," Lana updates the current amount of money in the pot.

Everyone is too tired to even react to five sacks of money lost in one day. At this rate, everyone is going to be in debt.

"May I remind you that you are here to form deeper emotional connections," Lana ends, letting everyone go with a warning.

YOU: I'm upset about Devon and Elliott's rule break but now I'm just thinking maybe... it's my turn now [smirks]

It's exceptionally quiet in the room tonight.

Everyone is upset about losing half of the prize money when the retreat is nowhere close to finished. At this point, everyone will come home with nothing.

And everyone is simply too tired to even deal with things.

"Goodnight, beautiful people!" Issa sweetly says into the dark room.

A few are replying to her and not long after that, the room turns quiet again.

Seungmin is getting used to cuddling you, your head is nestled in the crook of his neck and his arm is around you. This is what he needs after an eventful day, a relaxing time with you and just enjoying each other's warmth.

He knows you're still awake from the way your thumb softly rubs his jaw, he turns his head to the side to plant a kiss on the top of your head.

"You're not tired?" He asks, keeping his voice low to not disturb everyone else in the room.

You take a low breath and answer, "I don't want to sleep."

Seungmin senses that you're up to no good but he's going to have some fun trying to resist you.

"What do you want to do then?"

"Mmh..." you hum and tip your head upward to look at him.

You hold his jaw to make him look back at you, "We can do more than a cuddle or two tonight," you answer with a smile.

His guess is right and he grins at you, suddenly feeling conflicted that a part of him wants to kiss you but another part of him doesn't want to anger everyone.

"No?" You ask.

"No," he answers.

"So... is that a yes?" You ask again with your thumb now swiping his lips.

Seungmin lets out a low chuckle and just can't find it in him to resist you, you're so alluring, so relentless, and just undeniably beautiful.

"We can do more than a cuddle or two, yeah," he caves in to the temptation.

Seungmin takes his arm away just so he can hover above you but before he can lean in, you stop him. You look around to make sure the coast is clear, checking Tom's bed to see if he's sleeping soundly before pulling the duvet to cover both of you.

Even in the dark, Seungmin knows where your lips are because he's drawn to them and when they touched, he feels like something has sets his body alight. He feels warm all over, he feels the flutter in his stomach and the softness of your lips that are in contrast to how hard you return his kiss.

It's only fair that Seungmin reciprocate that energy, he uses his tongue to pry open your mouth and kisses you deeper, harder, and at the same time, trying to keep the smooching sound at the minimum.

Your hands are around him and keep pulling him closer until he collapses on top of you, he has to plant his elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Seungmin doesn't know how much time has passed because, to him, it feels like time stops when he kisses you.

As much as he would love to continue, he decides to end it with a long peck on your lips and pulls open the duvet covering both of you.

With your hands still around his neck, you easily bring his head close to plant a soft kiss on his cheek and smile when you pull away.

"Goodnight," you quietly mutter.

He gives your cheek a gentle caress before placing a kiss on it, then murmurs back, "Goodnight."

The two of you return to your sides of the beds with your backs against each other like nothing just happened.

SEUNGMIN: She is making it hard for me right now but I know that people will be mad about it so I didn't go all the way.

The morning starts with a heartfelt apology from Elliott.

If only the apology brings back the $50,000 they have lost, they would have easily accepted it but well, the damage has been done, there's just no undoing it.

"I'm not the type to dwell on the past but I don't forget and forgive either," Tom says, showing where his stance is on this matter.

Devon brushes her brown hair to the back and draws a breath before talking, "We do not plan to spend any more money. You can believe that or not, but I'll show you," she says with a determination.

"You are repeat offenders!" Tom states a fact that everyone can vouch for it.

"Fair enough," Elliott meekly responds.

Everyone turns quiet as they watch the talk between Tom and Elliott on the sideline, including him and you. You link your arm around his and rest your head on his shoulder.

Tom looks around as he asks the same question every other morning, "Did anyone break the rules last night?"

Not going to lie, Seungmin's heart drops a little but he knows how to put on a poker face. He remains calm, holding your hand if not rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

Another moment passes and no one answers Tom except for the silence that hangs in the room. Admitting it won't do him good, he knows Tom is going to be fuming.

"Let's start the day, shall we?" Issa says, breaking the silence in the room.

Seungmin must admit that you put on a good poker face too, no one is suspecting anything and he hopes it stays like that.

But on the other hand, the rule break last night only makes him want to break more rules and you seem to have the same thing in mind.

"What are we doing today?" You ask, your hand making its way across the sink to grab at his hips.

Seungmin is too busy brushing his teeth to answer you, he wants to do a lot of things with you but most of them are against the rules. He takes your hand and pulls you close to his side which you gladly do, clinging to his side.

You both agreed on swimming in the pool instead of working out, and going to the dressing room to change into swimwear.

Seungmin is already waiting in his swimming trunk and drinking out of his water tumbler when you come out of the changing room without your bikini top.

You're slyly grinning and stand by the full-length mirror to put the bikini top on while he watches in the back.

"Do you like what you see?" You playfully ask as you tie the straps on your back.

Seungmin manages to swallow his water alright even though you suddenly decided to flash him.

"The question is can I touch them?"

You laugh at that and come up to him, putting your hands around his neck, "You can touch them whenever you want."

He gives you a piggyback ride to the swimming pool and standing on the edge of the pool, "Are you ready?"

Before you can answer, he jumps into the pool with you still on his back, catching you off guard. You're gasping for air once you break through the water's surface.

Seungmin has a good laugh watching you fumbling to plant your feet on the bottom of the pool and he hurriedly helps putting your hair away from covering your face.

"You prick!" You say as you hit his chest.

He can't stop laughing, but he tries to console you by hugging you.

"Having a good laugh, huh?" You sneer, all pout and adorable.

"I did ask you if you were ready," he says just to annoy you more.

"Ha-ha," you dryly laugh in response, wiping the water from around your eyes.

"Okay, I'm sorry," He quickly apologizes, putting your hands around his neck and holding you close.

But he is having fun teasing you so while you're holding onto him, he lets himself fall into the water and brings you along with him, fooling you once again.

"Stop following me!" You jokingly say as he trails behind you as you both make your way back to the villa.

He puts his hands on your shoulders and you quickly shrug them off, "Don't touch me!"

That only makes him want to tease you more, he slips his arms under and around you, hugging you from the back.

"You're annoying. Go away!" You grumble, trying to get away but he won't let you.

Seungmin keeps laughing and tightening his hold around you, ignoring that the two of you are dripping wet and forming puddles of water on the floor of the dressing room.

He buries his head in your neck and kisses you there and you whine in complaint but you tip your head to the side, giving him the access to your neck.

"Stop it!" You tell him, half laughing but mostly enjoying his neck kisses.

He knows you can't resist him and that's why you keep letting him kiss your neck with his hands roaming around your wet body.

Then you drop your head on his shoulder, tantalizing him with your lips only inches away from him and you know what, he can worry about the money later.

Seungmin crashes his lips on yours, placing an intense kiss on your soft lips, and gives you a moment to return his kiss before taking it further.

You know what he wants and you give it to him, opening your mouth for him so he can kiss you deeper and harder.

While his lips are busy kissing yours, his hands freely wandering your body, he traces the sides of your body, then bravely cups your breasts in his hands.

A moan slips out of your mouth as he fondles your soft mounds, feeling the nipples hardening under your bikini top. The more he touches you, the more he loses himself in the kiss.

If it wasn't for the footsteps you both hearing coming to the dressing room, Seungmin wouldn't have stopped. He steps away to avoid suspicion, grabbing a towel to start drying himself.

You crane your neck to see who's coming from the hallway but it seems like whoever that is, they're heading for the bedroom, not here.

The moment your eyes meet, you both let out a laugh knowing that no one caught you rulebreaking.

SEUNGMIN: I need to do something because if we keep going down this path... I think we're going to keep breaking more rules.

The dress you're wearing has cute frills on the hem and you're swaying your body side to side in front of the mirror to see how it's going to look.

"It looks like one of those Barbie dresses," Adriana comments.

"I'm not wearing underwear under my dress," you shamelessly share.

"She's not wearing underwear under her skirt," Adriana points at Issa which she confirms with a nod.

"I hardly wear underwear," Devon innocently adds, holding a glass of juice in her hand.

You check one more time in the mirror and Vale happens to walk past you, you grab his elbow to stop him.

"How do I look?"

He ties his long hair into a small bun as he looks at you, "Stunning!"

"Thank you, babes," you mutter with a big smile, holding your hand up for a high five.

"And how do I look?" Vale asks, giving you a spin to show the whole look.

He's wearing blue jeans and a gray knitted sweater which doesn't fit the Caribbean sea weather but he looks good nonetheless.

"Divine!" You answer with a bright smile.

He puts his arm around your shoulder and looks at both of your reflections in the mirror as he says, "Perfect!"

After putting on a fresh coat of lip gloss, you're ready to step out of the villa and find Seungmin, he's the only one you want to show yourself off to.

You can easily spot him from his baseball jacket and his broad shoulders, he's talking to Jeff by the pool. Once you're close enough, you surprise him with a back hug.

Seungmin looks over his shoulder at you and smiles, sharing a moment with him until you realize that Jeff is still there.

"Nice shirt, Jeff," you compliment.

Jeff looks down at his striped shirt, "Thanks!"

Since Seungmin is still engaged in a conversation with him, you decide to let them continue and excuse yourself.

"I'm going to get a drink," you tell Seungmin.

It's when you're done with your first glass of drink and deep in the talk about skincare products with Lili and Adriana that Seungmin looks for you.

"Can I borrow her for a minute?" He asks the girls.

"Uh... No," Adriana jokes.

Nevertheless, he's offering his hand at you to help you get up from the sofa and take you to the firepit which has become you and Seungmin's favorite spot.

You carefully sit on the sofa with your hand keeping the hem of your dress down to not let it ride up your thighs and accidentally expose your private part to the camera.

"I love the jacket," you compliment, grabbing at the collar of it.

"I love the dress," he compliments back, touching the frilly hem, then rests his hand on your thigh.

His hair is brushed to the back, showcasing his beautiful face shape and strong jaws. Something about him that makes it seem like he's getting sexier and sexier each time you look at him.

And your mind is about to wander far off but thankfully, Seungmin grabs your hand and reels you back.

"I think we need to talk," he says.

Those words have such negative connotations and you get a little nervous, "Yeah?"

He puts his arm around you and his fingers are playing with the end of your hair, "We broke the rules twice already. I think it's just too much physical," he says.

Facing Lana's wrath is scary but there are far scarier things than that, for example, Seungmin has a change of heart. Thank God that's not the case so you let out a low sigh of relief.

"And I'm not just talking about people going to be mad at us. I think we should work on our emotional connection too," he seems to pick his words carefully, probably not wanting you to get the wrong idea.

You know exactly what he's talking about, there just too much physical stuff lately and you can't think of anything other than that.

But if you would rather do that than have to talk about emotions, feelings... it's just too scary for you.

"I'm just bad at talking about my feelings, that scares me so much," you honestly tell him.

Seungmin repeatedly nods as he takes your answer and pats your head, "Okay then, for now, let's put a brake on the physical stuff," he suggests.

Not sure if that's also what you want, you hate the idea but Seungmin is right, you should start to think of the group and stop acting selfishly.

The only thing that gets in the way is that it's not an easy thing to do.

"You know on the first few days in this retreat, I kind of forgot about sex," you share.

You pull the lapel of his jacket and slyly smile as you glance at him, "But now that I'm sharing a bed with a hot guy... all I'm thinking is just sex, sex, and sex," you openly admit, purposely dropping your voice lower and lower.

Seungmin is holding himself from smiling and you see that he profusely blushing from your words which makes him even cuter.

He clears his throat before speaking, "Surely, we can control our impulses, we can try—"

You cut him off as you stare into his eyes, "And when you're looking me in the eyes like that I just get so... fired up," you tell him.

He draws a sharp breath and throws his head back, failing to try to make you stop thinking about sexual stuff to only hear you talk more about sexual stuff.

You laugh as he looks so defeated and you hug him, feeling bad for him.

"We should stop spending the money, mmh!" He tries again.

"I'll try," you say while continuously laughing.

Hopeless, he buries his head and threatens you with tickling kisses, sending you into a laughing fit. Once you calmed down, you carefully dab the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes from laughing.

"If we can't kiss then I want cuddles," you demand.

Seungmin knows what to do, sitting on the end of the sofa so you can rest on his chest. You keep the hem of your dress down as you get in between his legs.

"I'm not wearing underwear," you tell him.

He hurriedly takes his jacket off, offering it to you to cover your legs, then puts his arms around you.

"Why are you not wearing an underwear?" He curiously asks.

"To seduce you, of course!" You mischievously reply with a smirk.

He groans at the night sky and hisses, "Fuck..."

YOU: What can I say? I love teasing him [laughs]

Should you be suspicious or relieved to know that Lana is letting the two of you off tonight?

She didn't announce any rule breaks tonight and everyone stays oblivious about your rulebreaks. Well, you should be thankful that you can go to sleep at ease tonight.

"Goodnight, fam!" Jeff mutters to everyone in the room once the lights are off.

In the dark, Seungmin gets bold with his touches, you wonder if he's going to keep his word to not spend any more money.

You still remember how he said he didn't like cuddles that much but he's the only one spooning you right now with his big, warm hand resting on your stomach.

To put it simply, he's not that much of a man who sticks to his words.

It's obvious that he wants it as much as you do as he keeps placing kisses all over your shoulder and neck, his hand goes under your night dress, squishing on the flesh of your stomach.

"We can kiss, you know," you whisper.

He presses a kiss on the skin behind your ear and whispers back, "But we can't."

You let him do as he pleases and try to not make any noises as his hand climbs up your chest, his fingers teasing your underboob.

You turn your head to the back and lowly mutter, "You know what they say?"

He detaches his mouth off your neck, "What?"

"Third time is a charm," you answer.

Seungmin gets it right away and he decides that he's going against his plan to not act selfishly. He kisses you and lets his hand roam all over you, fondling at your breast and pinching at your nipple, making you yelp against his lips.

You see that he's smiling as he kisses you and he slides his hand down your stomach, easing down to where you want him the most.

He lets go of the kiss to ask, "Are you wearing underwear?"

"Sadly, yes," you answer.

That doesn't stop him from continuing, cupping your clothed sex as he plants his mouth on you again and without warning, lands a gentle slap at it.

You take his hand away in reflex and put it back on your waist, holding it down to not let it wander again.

"You can't do that, baby," you whine.

It's a surprise that you find yourself becoming the one with more senses and reminding him about the plan. Probably because it only hits you now that you've spent quite a lot of money already with three kisses and that's only what you know.

You don't want to know how Lana is going to calculate these rule breaks, thinking about it is enough to make you shudder.

Seungmin takes a deep breath to calm himself down, he needs it as you can feel his member poking your backside. You turn around to sleep facing him and putting a little space between your bodies, resting your hand on his chest as you look at his face in the dark.

"We should save some for tomorrow," you jokingly say.

Seungmin softly chuckles and takes your hand to kiss it, "Goodnight," he mutters.

You lean in to kiss his cheek and give his fluffy hair a ruffle, "Goodnight, baby."

YOU: I hope Lana dozed off during her night shift or was updating her software or something [laughs]

This morning, people started getting suspicious of you.

As soon as the lights are on and morning greetings are being thrown around the room, Tom asks the usual question, "Were there any rule breaks last night?"

You put on an act and you don't have to worry about Seungmin, he mastered the innocent until proven guilty face.

Issa shakes her head while twisting her hair and secures it with a hair claw, "Nothing here."

"That's good," Tom says, impressed.

Then Devon with her bare face and naturally rosy cheeks, gestures her hand in your direction, "I definitely heard something from there," she says.

Your heart drops but you keep reminding yourself to not act on it, putting on an angelic smile to ward the suspicion away.

"Why are you smiling?" Jeff asks.

"Because I'm feeling good," You simply answer, ignoring how your heart starts beating out of control inside your chest.

Thankfully, Vale chimes in and puts all of the attention away from you, "Yo Jeff, I dreamed that you stole one of the cones in the villa," he says.

Jeff cracks a laugh at this random information, "You mean, I stole Lana?"

Now that the suspicious eyes are nowhere on you, you look at Seungmin and exchange a knowing glance.

"What are we doing today?"

"Stop following me," he says, getting back at you with what you said to him yesterday.

You rest your head on his shoulder, "Want to work out together?"

He pushes you away by the shoulder, "You're annoying. Go away!"

You put your hand across his chest and hug him, annoying him more by nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Stop it!" He plainly says.

It's for the best that you maintain a safe space with Seungmin for now. You join Vale sunbathing, taking the lounger next to him, and put sunglasses on to shield you from the sun.

"It's weird not seeing you all over your boy," Vale pokes fun at you.

"Gee! Thanks," you sneer with a thin smile.

Vale chuckles and puts his bottle of suntan away, "So, you like this boy so much, huh?"

"Yes," you confidently reply.

"That much, huh?"

"Yes."

He chuckles again and reclines on his lounger, "How far are you in the relationship?"

You get a little anxious at the mention of the word "relationship" but it is a relationship, what you have with Seungmin is not just a fling.

With Vale, you can openly tell him about things because you know he will try to help you find an answer. He's a good friend who you can seek advice from.

"I'm just afraid that I might get scared and just fall back, I'm like... caught between two things at this moment," you honestly tell him.

Vale understands your problem, he's brushing his facial hair as he thinks about what to say to you.

"I think you should follow your heart," he says.

"If he feels right to you, then you should go for it," he continues, looking at you through the lenses of your sunglasses.

Seungmin feels right but that doesn't mean that one day, he won't walk away from your life. That's what you fear: being abandoned.

"I know but... it's just..." You don't know how to fathom it into words but you can feel the fear creeping up inside you.

Vale grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze, "It's okay. You'll figure it out," he comforts you with a smile.

This is what makes Vale a good friend, he's not judgmental and knows how to provide comfort. You place your hand on top of his and smile back at him.

After a moment, he lets go and then sits back on his lounger, "What else is on your mind though?"

"Sex?" You shamelessly answer.

He bursts out laughing and puts his hands behind his head, "You did break the rules with him last night, didn't you?"

He knows you better than anyone so there's no use in denying it, you nod to confirm.

"How bad?"

You skip on answering and he gets the meaning of it, cracking another laugh at you.

"How mad everyone will be when they find out?" You foolishly ask even though you don't want to know the answer.

"Depends..." Vale answers, sparing his detailed opinion on it.

He knows you know how bad it would be since you're the one who committed the crimes. If you have to guess how bad, well, it's bad enough that it sends a chill down your spine.

You shake the thought away and turn the conversation elsewhere, "Enough about me. How about you?"

"What about me?" Vale asks in confusion.

"Are you still on the hunt or...?" You wonder if Vale is having his eyes on someone or if he wants to continue this journey on his own.

"I don't know," he answers.

"I don't think I... I think I learned enough here," he cryptically adds, hinting that he wants to stop progressing in this retreat.

But it could also mean something else entirely.

"If it's about the girls, I think Lana will bring more guests into the villa," you try to console him.

Vale awkwardly chuckles and lets your words vanish into thin air, unanswered.

YOU: I want to open up, I do and I know it's something that I need to do but that's just too scary for me.

It's time to face the music.

When Devon lets everyone know that Lana wants everyone in the cabana, Seungmin knows that she's going to announce the rule breaks.

Lana has been quiet lately but that doesn't mean she's not keeping tabs on what's happening in the villa. He sees that you look a little nervous as you walk next to him.

Everyone is cheering once they enter the cabana and Seungmin wonders what triggers it, it's the first time everyone is happy coming into the cabana.

Then he notices the small gift boxes, twelve of them on the table which means everyone gets one.

"I hope it's one of those mini vibrators," Cara cheekily remarks.

Next to him, you're sighing and awkwardly muttering, "That's interesting."

Not long after, Lana chimes to answer everyone's curiosity, "Hello, everyone. As you can see, I have a treat for you all."

More cheering erupts in the cabana and Tom is excitedly whooping, probably because Lana finally delivers good news.

"The purpose of this gift will further enhance your relationships going forward. You may now open your gifts."

Everyone takes each box onto their laps and impatiently opens them to find out what's inside. Seungmin takes one for him too and gets yours for you.

"When I observe two people forming a genuine connection, they will be given a green light, like this."

While everyone else is enjoying their watches and Lana explains about the green light, Seungmin is left confounded as he finds nothing inside his box.

And so are you.

"You don't get one?" Elliott asks.

Devon dramatically gasps, "What does that mean?"

Seungmin looks at you and you look back at him, nervously laughing at the same time. He knows you both fucked up and it's time to let everyone knows.

"Do you guys know why you don't get one?" Adriana asks.

It's better to come clean and not make it worse for both of you. Seungmin learns the hard way not to underestimate Lana and if he did again, she'd punish him more.

"Uhm... so..." You're fiddling with the cuff of Seungmin's shirt, anxious.

Seungmin decides to speak for both of you, "Last night, we kissed and did a little heavy petting," he confesses.

He thought that it would be like taking a bandaid off all at once but as everyone is exclaiming, groaning, and complaining, he realizes that the sting lingers.

"I knew it," Devon says, knowing that she was right about the noises she heard last night.

"You have not only broken the rules once, but three times in 36 hours," Lana reveals.

And hearing that, he must agree that it's that bad.

"What are you doing?" Elliott asks in disbelief as if he didn't spend 50 grand on himself a few days ago.

"These rule breaks have cost the group a total of $30,000."

Everyone is at a loss for words, including Tom and that's a bad sign. Seungmin would rather Tom to scold him than get nothing from him.

"The prize fund now stands at $74,000," Lana updates.

SEUNGMIN: [Groans] I clearly underestimated Lana.

When you think the nightmare is over, Lana calls you and Seungmin. You sit up straighter and hold Seungmin's hand tighter on his lap.

"Everyone here has struggled to combat their physical urges, but you two have shown a blatant disregard for my rules of late."

Lana is mad, you get it and you believe you're not going to like what she says next. But what can you do? You have to pay for what you did.

"Therefore, to prove you are committed to the process, I'm setting you an additional test."

Oh? A test? But you're never good at tests and everyone seems to have guessed what kind of test Lana will put you into.

"You will both spend the night in the suite," Lana continues.

You and Seungmin immediately turn to look at each other, muttering two different curses at the same time.

"Fuck!"

"Damn it!"

"You are encouraged to use your time to further your connection and prove that you do, in fact, respect the rules of my retreat," Lana warns.

Everyone is already pessimistic about it, they probably think that the two of you will fail which only makes you want to prove them wrong.

"If successful you will earn your watches," Lana announces.

Seungmin looks at everyone and says, "To me, this is not a problem."

This is not a problem to him but everyone knows that the problem is you, you're the one who keeps leading him into temptations.

"You may now leave," Lana orders.

YOU: Oh, my God! How are we going to survive this?

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shanastoryteller · 9 months

Note

Happy prideeeee, time-travel drarry pleaseeee 👀

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

The chamber is something approaching clean when they collapse into chairs in the kitchens. The house elves tuck them next to the fire and slide several pastries and a pitcher of pumpkin juice in front of them.

Harry is not a fan of being twelve. He's short and weak and everything is harder than it should be. On the other hand, none of his joints creek when he moves, which is an upside.

"So," Draco says, pressing his glass against his forehead. "Are you going to do anything to regain what you've lost or are you going to prove me right?"

"What," Harry says flatly, too tired to try and untangle whatever bullshit Draco is talking about.

He sighs. "I've set several things into motion myself. I am not putting up with Voldemort coming back again, once was enough thank you very much. Plus some other, less pressing matters."

"We're not staying," he protests. "We have to go home. You can't seriously want to relive being a teenager again."

"Want to? No. But I am willing to. Unlike you it seems, because I was right, and you don't actually care about - well, anything, apparently."

"Don't make me hit you," he threatens, but it comes out weaker than he'd like because his muscles all feel like jelly.

Draco frowns and actually appears agitated, more so than Harry's ever seen him outside of Voldemort's thumb. "What's wrong with you? I don't get you, Potter. Sirius Black is alive here, you know. And Remus Lupin. And Fred Weasley. You can stick around and help me make sure they live and don't suffer like they suffered before and do the same for a lot of other people too, I guess. Or you could return to the future."

"That's not how things work, Draco," he says, trying to be gentle even though he's pissed. "We can't just - rewrite history, not even for the better. We don't know that it will be better. We might just make everything worse."

"There was a war," Draco says tiredly. "How much worse can we possibly make it?"

#asks #anon #prompt answers #prompts are closed #harry potter

481 notes · View notes

genshinluvr · 9 months

Text

Sick Days 2

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: The men are sick, and it's your duty to nurse them back to their healthy selves. Yes, the men are sick— all twenty-seven of them are ill, and you're the only one who's taking care of them. Some of them made it easier for you, but others made it complicated for you. It's a good thing you don't have emetophobia.

Note: This is highly requested by either three people or one person. Either way, I'm surprised someone wanted part two of the previous mini-fic because I felt iffy about the first part. Anyway, I am back from my vacation! That means we can finally get back to the longer fics because this upcoming week will be a villain!isekai'd!reader fic because it won the voting on Tumblr and Discord :> I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: The men are sick, and some of them are vomiting

Word Count: 3.5k

This is part two of Sick Days.

RING!

“Onikabuto booboo bear! I’m hungryyy!”

You run to the left side of the room with a tray of food in your hands. “Coming!”

RING!

“Sweetheart? Can you get me water? My throat is feeling parched.”

You run to the nearest water pitcher, grab a glass cup and fill it with water. “Give me a moment!” You holler. After filling the cup with water, you run to the right side of the room, making sure not to spill any water on the wooden floor.

RING RING!

“Snookums!!!! I’m cold! Can you get me an extra blanket and maybe cuddle with me?”

You run toward the piles of blankets on the table and search for the softest blanket you can find. The thicker and softer the blanket, the better it is. You don’t want any of them to be cold and feel uncomfortable while ill. You know how your boyfriends are—when they’re feeling unwell and sick, they need your attention around the clock. While searching through the mountain of blankets, you hear someone cough loudly.

Without looking, you announce over your shoulders, “Make sure to cough into your elbows and keep your masks on. You guys wouldn’t want to get me sick, now, do you?”

“No,” Aether mutters before sniffling under his face mask.

Zhongli sighs, rubbing his throbbing temples. “Apologies, dearest.”

“Childe, you can’t just ask [Y/N] to cuddle with you. You’ll get them sick, and if they get sick—”

Diluc was interrupted by Childe coughing loudly into his elbows, causing the redhead to roll his eyes and scoot toward the edge of his bed. Childe drops his arm to his side and narrows his eyes at Diluc before snuggling into his blanket, shivering like a chihuahua.

After what feels like forever, you finally found the perfect blanket for the poor, shivering Snezhnayan. You pull the blanket from the pile and walk to Childe’s bed. Childe’s eyes light up, and he sits on the bed, making grabby motions as you get closer to his bed. You decided to have the men stay in the infirmary at the estate instead of their bedrooms because, to you, it’d be easier to tend to each person if they were all in the same room instead of scattered around the estate.

Well, at least that’s what you assumed. Now look at you— running from each side of the room to tend to each person’s needs, from getting water, cooking, and feeding your sickly boyfriends to getting them extra pillows and blankets if they’re in need, and so much more. It’s safe to say that you’re getting your daily exercise.

“I think I found the perfect blanket for you, Childe. It’s warm and really soft,” you say proudly, tossing the blanket over his shivering body.

Childe smiles at you beneath his face mask before grabbing you by the wrist while you adjust the blanket over him. You pause and look at the ginger Harbinger curiously. For someone who’s sick, Childe still has his strength because he somehow managed to pull you onto his bed. You stumble forward, making sure not to crush him when you land on his bed. Childe wraps his muscular arms around your neck and his legs around your thighs.

“Well, hello to you too,” you mumble, head resting against the crook of Childe’s neck.

Childe doesn’t reply. Instead, he sighs with contentment before rolling over to his side, bringing you with him. You snort and run your hands through his unruly, ginger hair. You pause and squeeze your eyes shut after feeling Childe’s damp hair. Oh, dear Archons. You pull your hands from Childe’s hair and wipe your hand on your shirt. Childe doesn’t seem to notice your slight change of behavior as he continues to nuzzle against you, sighing with contentment. You hear a disgruntled sigh coming from the small infirmary bed beside Childe’s bed. You peek from Childe’s neck to see Diluc and Al Haitham glaring holes into the back of Childe’s head.

Al Haitham sniffles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Childe, you shouldn’t cuddle with [Y/N], or else you’ll get them sick too,” Al Haitham grumbles, continuing to glare at the ginger Snezhnayan.

“How are you freezing when you’re from Snezhnaya? Aren’t you used to the cold?” Venti asks from the other side of the room.

You chuckle. “Just because Childe is Snezhnayan doesn’t mean he’s used to the cold. Besides, Childe freezing due to being sick and being in a cold environment are two different things,” you say.

You pat Childe’s head and roll off the infirmary bed. Childe whines with protest, grabbing the hem of your shirt and attempting to pull you back to his bed, only for the hem of your shirt to slip through his fingers. Childe pouts and remains in bed, gazing at you with puppy dog eyes. You walk to the person closest to the medicine cart and adjust the pillow under his head.

“How are you feeling, Baizhu? You’re usually the one caring for us all and giving us medication, but today you and I switched spots,” you say, grabbing the medicine bottle with his name on the bottle and uncapping it.

Out of every sick man in the infirmary, you’re worried about Baizhu the most. Baizhu’s health is more at risk, and he’s prone to catching illnesses quickly out of the twenty-seven men. You’re grateful to have Baizhu give you some pointers on what medication to give each man in the infirmary, how much they need to take their medicine, and how often they need to take them.

Baizhu coughs into his elbow, wincing when he feels a sharp pain in his chest. “I could be worse, but with your assistance, I should be okay,” Baizhu wheezes.

You take out two pill tablets for Baizhu and hand them to the green-haired man. Baizhu takes his face mask off, throws the two pills into his mouth, and grabs the cup of water from your hands before downing the water to wash down the pills. Baizhu hands you the cup before lying on the bed. Changsheng, on the other hand, is perched on Baizhu’s lap, slowly slithering up to the green-haired man’s chest and staying there.

“How did we all get sick simultaneously? This sucks,” Kaveh sniffles from the other side of the infirmary, rubbing his red and irritated nose.

Just when Kaveh’s about to say more, his cheeks suddenly puff up, and he covers his mouth with his hands. Everyone stares at Kaveh, watching his pale, sickly skin gradually turn light green. Oh no. You recognize the expression. You rush to the trash can, grab it, and run to the other side of the infirmary to give Kaveh the trash can before he can spew bile all over the place.

Kaveh whimpers a ‘thank you’ before dry heaving into the trash bin. The others close their eyes and cover their ears while you look away, rubbing Kaveh’s back as he vomits into the trash can. After a few minutes, Kaveh wipes his mouth with the back of his hand while you take the vomit-filled trash can from his hands.

“I think you should go brush your teeth, Kaveh. Wouldn’t want to have vomit breath, now, do you?” Scaramouche asks, his nose scrunching up with disgust.

Kaveh sighs and shoots a glare toward Scaramouche. Kaveh tosses the blanket off his body before getting up from the bed and going to the nearest bathroom. Scaramouche chuckles before quickly pulling up his face mask and coughing into his elbows. You sigh and dispose of the vomit-filled trash bin.

After changing the trash bin, you walk into the room and grab a pill bottle for Xiao. You didn’t think it was possible for Archons and Adeptis to get sick, but you were wrong. You stand beside Xiao’s bed and nudge him lightly while he remains on the infirmary bed with the blanket over his head. Xiao groans and curls into a little ball.

“Xiao, I have your medicine. You should take it before you sleep,” you say, nudging the Yaksha lightly.

“Adeptis don’t need sleep,” Xiao grumbles, his voice nasally due to his stuffy nose.

You sigh, grab the edge of the blanket, and yank it off his head. Xiao grumbles and squints at you. Xiao sighs and rolls over on his back, rubbing his eyes. Poor Xiao looks miserable— the tip of his nose is red, and he is constantly sniffling. Xiao wipes his nose with the tissue you hand to him while you uncap the pill bottle to give him his medication.

You hold out the two pill tablets to Xiao. “I know you don’t need sleep, but you should get some sleep regardless. If you don’t rest, then you won’t be healthy. If you’re not healthy, then that means I can’t give you kisses,” you say.

Xiao stares at you before reluctantly grabbing the tablets from your hands, throwing them into his mouth, and swallowing the pills dry. You gaped at Xiao. Xiao points at his head while you stare at him with your mouth agape.

“What is he doing?” Cyno mutters, hugging his knees to his chest.

Kazuha wraps himself up in the blanket before falling over on the bed. “I think he’s asking for a forehead kiss from [Y/N] as a reward for taking his medicine,” Kazuha replies.

“So… are we not going to talk about how Xiao swallowed those pills without needing water?” Heizou asks, blowing his nose into the tissue.

You and Xiao continue to stare at each other in silence. You chuckle to yourself before leaning toward Xiao and kissing his forehead. Xiao closes his eyes, heat rushing to his cheeks. When you pull away, you notice Xiao’s cheeks are bright pink. You’re not sure if it’s because of his fever or if he’s blushing. Either way, Xiao looks adorable.

“Get some rest now, okay?” You stroke Xiao’s hair.

Xiao nods wordlessly before lying on his back while you tuck him into bed. Xiao closes his eyes when you lean in to kiss his forehead before leaving him to let him sleep. You walk to the next person to check on them, only to see Kaeya knocked out cold. Kaeya’s not wearing his eyepatch as it lays above his pillow. You press your hand against his forehead after brushing his bangs from his forehead. He still has a high fever, and he’s been sick for a few days— luckily, his fever isn’t nearly as bad as the first day.

Kaeya cracks his eyes open when you wipe the sweat from his forehead with a rag. Kaeya clears his throat, wincing when he feels how dry his throat is. “Oh? Is it my turn to be taken care of by nurse bunny?” Kaeya teases.

You snort. “Yes, it’s your turn to be taken care of by me, Kaeya,” you reply. “Try sitting for me, okay? You need to take your medicine.”

Kaeya sighs and sits up, grabbing the eyepatch from above the pillow and putting them on while you grab his medicine bottle. Why would the men need their own prescription if they have the same illness? Well, some are allergic to certain ingredients in the medication, and others are not. Some need stronger doses than others. People’s bodies react to medication differently, and you sure as hell do not want your boyfriends to have a negative reaction to their medication. Especially when they’re sick— some sicker than others.

You take two tablets from the pill bottle, handing them to the Cavalry Captain. Kaeya smiles at you, taking the pills from your hands before swallowing them with the help of water. After downing the medication, Kaeya places the cup on the nightstand between his and Tighnari’s bed, resting his head on your lower abdomen, and closes his eyes.

“Get some rest, alright? I only bothered you awake so you can take your medication,” you murmur, running your hands through his hair.

Kaeya nods before lying on the bed and closing his eyes. You turn to look at Tighnari, whose staring at you with a faraway look. His hair is pulled up in a half ponytail, there are dark circles underneath his eyes, and he’s shaking his head.

Tighnari clears his throat. “Before you say anything, I already took my medication,” Tighnari rasps.

You blink at him. “When? I didn’t even notice you getting up to take your medication,” you say incredulously.

“He took his medication while you were occupied with Kaveh,” Thoma interjects, snuggling up against the body pillow and closing his eyes.

You sigh. “At least it’s one less person to worry about,” you murmur, running your hands through your hair. “You should get some rest now. Since you took your medication already.”

Tighnari stares at you before pointing at his forehead. You playfully roll your eyes and lean down, kissing his forehead. Tighnari silently cheers before taking his hair out of the half ponytail and lying down. You were about to go over and check on Gorou and Albedo, but the two men were also knocked out cold.

Gorou cracks his eyes open and rubs his eye. “Can I take my medication later? ‘M tired,” Gorou mumbles, rolling over on his stomach, and slowly falls asleep.

“Sorry, Gorou, but I can’t let you skip out on your medication. There’s a time slot, remember?” You poke Gorou’s cheek lightly.

On the bed, one foot from Gorou’s bed, Albedo raises his hand. “I also took my medication earlier as well,” Albedo comments.

You stare at Albedo as the Chief Alchemist gets comfortable in his bed. Well, at least the ones that took their medication are somewhat making it easier for you. You walk to Dainsleif’s bed and sit across from him. The blond man cracks his eyes open and gazes at you with bleary eyes, slowly rubbing his eyes as he sits on the bed. You pull his medicine bottle out from the small basket and hand him the bottle. Dainsleif uncaps the bottle, takes two pill tablets from the bottle, and pops the pills into his mouth before downing the water from his water bottle.

“I didn’t know you could get sick,” you murmur, hugging your knees to your chest.

Dainsleif hands the bottle back to you. “I’m immortal, not immune to diseases and sicknesses,” Dainsleif replies, wiping the droplet of water from the corner of his lips.

You stand and hand him the eyemask. “It looks like not even Archons are immune to diseases and illnesses. I’m going to let you rest now, alright? I’m going to check on the others,” you say, stroking Dainsleif’s hair before walking to the next person.

What amazes you is how Capitano continues to wear his helmet despite being sick. When you hand him his medication, Capitano gets up from his bed and leaves the room for a brief moment before returning.

“You didn’t throw the medicine away, did you?” you ask, gazing at the tall Harbinger skeptically.

Capitano’s shoulders bounce as he sits on his bed and shakes his head. “Just because I took my medication out of sight does not mean I threw them away. You needn’t worry,” says Capitano as he pats your head before lying down.

You sigh in relief and smile at Capitano before turning over to the other three Harbingers. You pass the medicine bottles to each man and fill their cups with water from the water pitcher. You hand the cups to the men, trading the cups of water for the medicine bottles. The three men take their medication before remaining sitting on their beds.

“Is there anything else you three need before I check up on Neuvillette and Wriothesley?” you ask, putting their prescription bottles back into the tray.

Pantalone sighs, takes his glasses off, and puts them on the nightstand. “When can we start cuddling again?” asks the black-haired Harbinger.

“When you’re not sick anymore, Captain Obvious. Do you want [Y/N] to get sick all because you wanted a cuddle session?” Dottore asks, glaring at the black-haired Harbinger.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Even though the two men are sick, they still bicker with one another. Pierro clears his throat and motions for you to come close. You walk to Pierro and stand at the foot of his bed. You grab an extra blanket for Pierro and drape it over him. Pierro grabs your hand and pulls you toward him.

You stand beside Pierro’s bed, and he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your stomach. You run your hands through his hair, untangling the small knots in his hair as Pierro rubs your back with his thumb. You press the back of your hand against his forehead, sighing in relief.

“It looks like your fever is going down faster than the others! That’s great news,” you say, patting his head.

Pierro clears his throat. “It’s all thanks to you, little one. If it weren’t for you, my fever wouldn’t have gone down,” Pierro replies.

“Hey! Stop giving the old man attention because we’re dying over here!” A nasally voice hollers from the other side of the infirmary.

Pierro reluctantly releases you as you turn to where the other two men are lying. Wriothesley looks like a mess, but you can’t blame him since the poor man has emptied his stomach four times so far. Wriothesley sniffles pitifully, hugging the trash can to his chest as he wipes the snot from his nose with the back of his hand. You hand the medication to him, only for Wriothesley to shake his head and place a hand over his stomach.

“I don’t want to take it right now, my dear. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it down if I were to take the medication,” Wriothesley says, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Wriothesley’s face turns bright green before shoving his face into the trash bin and retching and emptying his stomach for the fifth time. You sigh, rubbing his back as he continues to spew into the almost full trash bin. While Wriothesley is retching and whimpering into the white trash can, you turn to Neuvillette.

“Did you take your medication?” You ask, shaking the prescription bottle lightly before him.

Neuvillette shakes his head. “I just woke up. Waking up to your face and the sound of your voice is something I would prefer over the sounds of Wriothesley heaving and whimpering into the trash can,” Neuvillette sighs, brushing his hair away from his face.

You run your fingers through Neuvillette’s hair, smiling at the silver-haired man. “Maybe next time when you’re not sick. After all, you and Wriothesley arrived at the estate not long ago, and look at you two… sick just like the others,” you sigh.

Poor Neuvillette and Wriothesley. The two men have moved into the estate not long ago, and yet both of them end up getting the virus that was going around the abode. The first person that caught the virus was Kaveh, and it passed around to everyone in the abode except for little ole’ you. This was strange because you get sick easily— you don’t have a weak immune system per se, but you have lived with children in the past back in your world, and those children would get you sick whenever they were sick.

“Here’s your medicine. Get some rest after, alright? I know you have a headache right now,” you murmur, handing Neuvillette his medication.

Neuvillette grabs the medication from your hands, and you turn to Wriothesley, who places the trash bin beside his bed and gazes at you with bleary eyes. You prop one hand on your hip, looking at Wriothesley curiously.

“Are you done throwing up?” You ask.

Wriothesley nods.

You tap your fingers on your hips. “Do you think you can take your medications now? If not, I can give them to you later when you don’t feel like you have to throw up again,” you suggest.

Wriothesley shakes his head wordlessly and extends his hand, the palm of his hand facing up as he waits for you to hand the pill tablets to him. You sigh and place the two pill tablets on the palm of his hands, and watch the black-haired man shove the pills into his mouth before chugging the water.

“Wriothesley, please don’t chug the water. You might make yourself throw up again if you do that,” you chide.

Wriothesley places the cup back on the nightstand between his and Neuvillette’s bed, wiping the water droplets from his lips with the back of his hand. You pat his head while he smiles, pressing his head against your stomach. After a few minutes of petting Wriothesley’s hair, you grab the trash can beside Wriothesley’s bed and walk out of the room to empty the trash can, only to stop in your tracks when you hear someone retch and a collective groan.

“[Y/N]! You have more trash cans to empty!”

You sigh, shoulders slumping. Whatever this virus is, you sure hope it stops floating around because you don’t know how much longer you can deal with having to change out trash bags. Especially when you’re not a huge fan of vomiting. It’s a good thing you don’t have emetophobia— that would render you useless if you had it. As long as you’re not the one that’s vomiting, you’re okay with cleaning up after someone else’s vomit since it’s not your first rodeo.

Note: Not gonna lie, as I got closer to completing this mini-fic, I started getting nauseous out of nowhere. But I am okay-ish now! The Gatorade kind of helped me feel better. But yes, this upcoming week is the somewhat lengthier fic of villain!isekai'd!reader since it did win the Tumblr and Discord polls. Speaking of Discord, for those who want to join my Discord server, here is the temporary link to [Zhongli's Abode]. Please make sure to read the server rules to save yourself from getting in trouble (if you like the server, you can stay, chat, and lurk. If not, you can leave if you don't vibe with it ^^). I didn't post a new link last week due to being away on vacation, and I didn't want my mods to feel overwhelmed with new members while I was away. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @kazuhaprnt, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @thelovebuggs, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

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dinosaurchurch · 10 months

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Happy belated Canada Day to all my fellow Canadians.

I spent a portion of the day out on a hike. Motion Path certainly was just as gorgeous as last time and I didn’t get sunburnt so that’s a plus. Hopefully everyone else enjoyed the holiday as much as I did.

July 1st 2023.

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spamgyu · 5 months

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Always // Soonyoung x Reader - bonus part

DESCRIPTION: When Soonyoung told her he would always be there, he meant it. The days of pining for the girl he had fallen for freshman year had finally paid off.

PAIRING: Soonyoung x Reader

GENRE: A little fluff treat for my team soonyoung girlies out there.

Sorry for making yall cry in right where you left me. <3

(ALWAYS)

He kept his promise.

That night when he had confessed his feelings to her, he truly meant what he said.

"I'm here. As a friend or whatever you need me to be. I'm here."

Soonyoung didn't care if he was the second choice or the twelveth – he remained by y/n side. He was the first person she called when anything happened; whether it was when Mingyu and her broke it off or when she finally found the sold out bag from Marge Sherwood. Soonyoung was the first to know.

He had become her best friend. Over throwing Jeonghan.

Though, if anyone were to ask y/n, it wasn't the case... Only because Jeonghan would make a scene, claiming that after all the years they have known each other he would be dethroned by someone he had introduced her to.

Many called him a fool for this choice – pining for a girl who was clearly not going to give him the time of day. But Soonyoung didn't care.

Because despite what everyone thought, he wasn't praying for her and Mingyu's downfall so that he could finally get the girl.

As long as she was happy.

He'd get over it one day.

But that was the thing, just when he thought his feelings for her were slowly diminishing, welcoming the idea of possibly dating... there was a glimmer of hope.

"Sorry I'm late, got caught up at the office." He apologized to his friends, taking the only empty seat available.

Next to an intoxicated y/n.

"Catch up!" She messily poured a shot of soju for him, earning hoots and hollers from the other two sat across the table – Jeonghan and Seokmin.

Soonyoung happily took the small glass from the girl's hand with a chuckle – throwing the drink back with ease.

"Okay you need about four more." She began to pour another only to be stopped by Soonyoung's hand. "Boo!!"

"It's only been an hour since you guys got here, how are you all so drunk?" He grabbed the pitcher of beer from the middle of the table.

"We're celebrating the end of a work week." Seokmin snickered.

"That I'll I drink to." He sighed; recalling to the emails, that seemed to never end, that he had to send throughout the week. Not to mention the outburst his team leader had on Tuesday.

To say the week ran him over like a semi-truck was an understatement.

Being part of the corporate world was no joke, each one of them taking turns complaining about their bosses and deadlines in their groupchats.

Who would have thought the real world would be this draining?

It had almost been a weekly ritual for them to meet every Friday for Happy Hour, whether as a semi-complete group or as a whole. It was their own way of tapping back to their hey-days in the midst of their now very grown lives.

"Take my glass." Y/n handed him her empty pint glass as she watched him look for a clean one.

"You're not gonna–"

She shook her head. "I'm getting the burps."

"Do you want another drink? I'll pay."

"They do have ice blended makgeolli." Y/n trailed off, a smile on her face growing – recalling to the menu that was handed to them when they were seated.

It wasn't part of the pub's happy hour menu – the three opting for the bottomless pitcher of beer and four bottle of soju special instead.

But since he had offered... she wasn't going to decline.

Soonyoung called over the waiter, motioning for her to place her order once he arrived at the table.

"One ice blended yogurt makgeolli–"

"Four." He interjected, knowing that the other two would whine about wanting some the minute it arrived at the table.

"Four, please."

"Must be nice having a finance bro as a boyfriend." Jeonghan sighed loudly, earning a laugh from Seokmin. He had been observing the two from across the table as they seemed to be in their own little world. Again.

She and Soonyoung have gotten used to Jeonghan's teasing, paying no mind to his comment. It had been a running joke for him since y/n and Mingyu had broken up – joking any time he caught either Soonyoung or y/n doting on one another.

It was just a joke, anyways.

"Han, please you're scaring the hoes." Soonyoung replied without missing a beat.

"Oh please, y/n is doing enough of that herself." Seokmin laughed.

It was no secret that the two had gotten very close – effortlessly navigating around one another like an old couple. They knew each other better than they knew themselves.

Soonyoung knew what made her tick, her coffee order, her favorite places to shop, and so on.

And she was the same.

Anyone could easily mistake the two as a long term couple, making the jokes from their group so easy to come.

"As if he has any." Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Because you scare them away!" Soonyoung laughed.

One iced blended makgeolli turned into three more and soon the group, aside for Soonyoung, were absolutely wasted; drunkenly singing along to the music that blasted throughout the pub. Earning looks from those sat around them.

"Alright, I think it's time to call it." Soonyoung placed two one hundred bills on the table. "I'm taking y/n home."

"I'm-" Hiccup. "Fine."

"No you're not, come on let's go." He chuckled standing from his seat, grabbing her oversized leather jacket that hung on the back of her chair along with her purse – holding out his hand.

"Boring!!!" Seokmin protested. Slurred to be exact.

He raised his brows at his friend, turning to a more coherent Jeonghan. "Are you guys good to make it home or do I need to call an uber too?"

"No, we're okay." Jeonghan shook his head slowly.

Soonyoung knew they weren't okay, but he was far too worried about the girl who was still sat in her seat – sipping on the watered down drink in front of her.

He nodded, reaching to take the drink from her hand; earning a pout before she took his hand; using it to help her up.

"Whoa." Y/n's eyes grew wide, feeling all the alcohol she had consumed take over her whole body.

Soongyoung stifled a laugh, holding her hand tighter as he felt her sway as she tried to find her balance.

"Request me on zelle if that doesn't cover it." He nodded to the two before exiting the building and straight into the uber he had requested minutes ago.

The second her and Seokmin began passing their make shift soju and spoon mic, he had secretly requested for a ride out of the establishment. He knew if he had waited any longer, y/n would have probably ordered another round for the group.

It was a short ride from the pub to her apartment, the two sitting in the back of the SUV in silence.

Mostly because he knew she was on the verge of throwing up.

Y/n could handle her alcohol pretty well. She just needed to throw up after each night out.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Y/n threw her body on her couch, groaning as her head hit the throw pillow. "I did pretty good. Didn't puke once."

"I'm so proud of you." He chuckled, unzipping her knee high boots. "Want to keep your socks on?"

"Please."

"Water?"

She shook her head. Her stomach was filled to the brim with liquids and she knew that if she took even a sip, she may just burst.

He watched as she remained laying still in a fetal position, admiring her beauty. She wasn't do anything but breathing. Yet somehow, he couldn't help but feel his heart fill with warmth as he scanned her – her hair perfectly framing her face, despite the fact that the curls she spent nearly an hour this morning doing had fallen, her make up was still in it's place, aside from her now faded lipstick. She looked perfect as ever.

Though, he may be biased.

Soonyoung took one last look at her before walking into her room to grab a hoodie from her closet. "Sit up."

He didn't have to ask twice, allowing him to assist her put on the black hoodie. Her favorite piece to wear when she was simply lounging around her apartment or running errands.

His hoodie from the day he rescued her in the rain.

She never did return it.

...And he never asked for it back.

"Maybe I am scaring your hoes away." She hiccuped, her eyes trained on his face as he adjusted the strings.

"I don't have hoes. I was kidding."

Maybe it was the alcohol.

Or maybe it was the close proximity.

But y/n found herself replying. "Good."

"Good?" He raised his brows, absentmindedly tucking the strands that fell in front of her face behind her ears.

She hated when her hair was a mess.

"I don't like sharing."

He felt his heart skip a beat.

Y/n had never vocalized how she felt about him; and up until now, he never though she would ever. Soonyoung began to have some sort of inkling a few months ago that she may have felt the same way he does, but he never wanted to read too much into this.

Y/n had been newly single and maybe she could have just been projecting her old lingering feelings for his best friend towards him.

Besides, she was like this with Jeonghan. At least, that's what he chose to believe.

"You're really drunk." He mumbled.

"Is it so bad that I have feelings for you?"

He felt like the air in his lungs was not enough; unable to fully process her sudden confession of feelings. "N-no. But you're also about eight drinks in."

"Drunk mind is an honest one."

She was right.

As much as he had waited for this moment, which only seemed possible in his dreams, he knew it wasn't right. She was drunk and though he was coherent, he too had a slight buzz.

Soonyoung wanted to be sober when they had this conversation.

"We'll talk about this tomorrow. During breakfast."

"Do you not believe me?" She pressed.

Ninety percent of him does.

The ten percent was his demons, telling him that he would never hold a place in her heart. Not the way Mingyu did.

While he crouched in front of her in silence, trying to silence the voice in his head; he noticed her inching closer – her eyes eyeing his lips. For a split second, he allowed himself to lean in; capturing her lips.

This was their first kiss, and as much as he has been waiting for this – it felt wrong. He didn't picture the first time he kissed the girl he had been in love with for almost six years to be in her living room while she was most likely drunk out of her mind.

Not like this.

It was quick kiss, and god did they both want it to last longer.

"Tomorrow." He breathed, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I promise."

Y/n didn't care to protest anymore, knowing that he wasn't going to change his answer and allowed him to tuck her into bed.

She may be drunk, but she wasn't out of her mind. The alcohol had simply gave her the confidence to finally say what had been plaguing her mind for the past month and half.

A secret she had only disclosed to Jeonghan. Who seemed to be very thrilled of the news – claiming that the reason why he had introduced her to his frat brothers during their freshman year was because he fully expected her to hit it off with Soonyoung.

Not with Mingyu.

He had spent the last month and a half encouraging her to finally let Soonyoung know how she felt. Annoying her to be exact.

Everyone had called that somehow and at some point, she would end up falling for Soonyoung.

She couldn't pin point the exact moment when she began to allow her heart to soften to the idea of possibly seeing a future with her friend.

The one moment in her apartment while she was still dating Mingyu didn't count.

It happened so slowly that y/n did not realize that she began to yearn for his presence. He had become a part of her daily life that when he had gone away for an overseas vacation with his family, she realized how much she had missed having him blowing up her phone with all sorts of random messages and memes.

Not that he wasn't texting her while he was away; no he made sure to keep her updated. Sending her images of the activities they were doing and all the meals was eating – and she was doing the same.

It was just that, due to the time difference and lack of proper cell service, he wasn't able to reply right away.

The minute she caught herself constantly checking her phone, to see if his name had popped up in her notifications, she knew she was done for.

The inevitable had finally come and she was fully welcoming it.

He knew he didn't have to ask for permission. Especially not if it was Mingyu that ended things.

Yet, there he was, standing at his best friend's apartment door – nervously shifting his weight from one leg to another, debating whether he had made the right choice or not.

Soonyoung's head had been a mess since he left y/n's apartment, unable to complete a single thought.

All except one. He needed to make things right, starting by giving Mingyu a heads up.

If what she had said was true, he wanted to start their relationship properly.

He knew he had already overstepped the rules of the bro code; that line was far in the distance, he could no longer see it. And despite the anger he once felt for his friend, for making the girl he loves cry and breaking her heart, he didn't want to cause any ill feelings that could possibly bring tension to the whole group.

He cared far too much for the twelve boys he had spent all his college days with. A girl nearly ruined their dynamics once, he wasn't going to allow this to happen again.

Especially if he could help it.

He was willing to let go anyways. If Mingyu says no, he'll walk away.

It would be painful as hell, but he didn't care. A simple no and he would do it in a heartbeat.

Finally mustering up the courage to knock on the door, Soonyoung reached up to unbutton another button from his white collared shirt – the sounds of Mingyu's footstep approaching the door all of a sudden made him feel as though the fabric around his neck was constricting him.

"Hey, Hosh." He greeted, almost sounding like a question.

Soonyoung cleared his throat.

Here goes nothing.

"I'm not asking for permission, I think we're too grown for that but– it's been a year and you're okay and she's okay a–and–" He stammered. He was far more nervous than he had expected himself to be.

"Spit it out, dude." Mingyu chuckled.

"I'm going to try it out with y/n." Soonyoung blurted.

Mingyu blinked. "That's it?"

That was not the reaction he expected.

Y/n had always been a touchy subject between the two. Especially after that night at the gym when he nearly landed a fist on Mingyu's face.

The two avoided any topic that involved y/n. Not unless someone else in the group brought it up.

"Well, yeah– you're my best friend and she's your ex–"

Mingyu shook his head. "Like you said. We're adults. Do what makes you happy, man."

He felt like the weight on his shoulder has been lifted, a smile forming on his lips. "Thank you, dude. It really means a lot."

"I guess this is me passing the baton." Mingyu joked. "Don't fuck it up."

"Trust me, I won't." Soonyoung chuckled, feeling at ease that his friend was able to make a joke out of the situation. He was fully prepared for Mingyu to put up a fight, or at least give him a hard time.

But then again, he was dating again; having brought a girl around when they went out as a group for Seungcheol's birthday.

Unlike the previous time Mingyu had done this, he noticed that y/n had barely bat an eye at his actions.

Things had shifted.

War was over.

Soonyoung had let himself in to her apartment, grateful for the spare key she had given him when she had first moved in.

Just like all his other promises to her, he kept his word and showed up the following day to her place; ready to pick up where they had left off the night before. This time fully sober.

He had felt like he had been floating on cloud nine since last night and was not able to sleep since coming home from Mingyu's apartment. He had gotten the greenlight from both parties and now it was his time to make a move.

Soonyoung had always respected y/n, he could have easily jumped the gun the second she was single but he knew that would have been a dirty move. He knew what his friends and her friends said about him, and he didn't want to prove those rumors true.

Four years with someone was a long time, and he knew there was no way he could erase that. Soonyoung knew that if he did stand a chance in capturing her heart, it would be when y/n was fully healed from all the pain and heartache that her previous relationship has brought her.

And he waited.

Not intentionally.

He enjoyed staying right by her side with no return in his investment.

It just so happened that she managed to fall for him during this time.

He quietly began setting up her small dining table with her favorite breakfast from the restaurant they had become regulars at when they needed to nurse their hangovers.

Cinnamon french toast and lavender iced latte.

He was in the middle of filling the pink vase he had purchased along with the bouquet of white peonies when he heard the hard wood behind him creak – signaling that she had woken up.

"Morning." She croaked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"No, no. Go back to your room." He turned his head to face her.

"Wha- no!" She laughed, trying to peer over his shoulder to see what he was up to.

"I'm trying to make a grand romantic gesture here." Soonyoung cried, moving his body to hide the flowers.

"Are those flowers?"

"Can't a guy surprise the girl he likes?" He reached to turn the tap off.

"Not when he's making so much noise!"

"I was being quiet!"

"Please, that word is not even in your dictionary. I heard you stub your toe the second you walked in."

"Who puts a fucking cabinet at the entry way!?"

"It's a shoe cabinet and you have been here so many times you still– Oh my god it's so pretty!" She gasped when he fully turned around, walking over to place the vase in the middle of the table.

Soonyoung was taken by surprise when he felt her arms wrap around his waist; feeling her warm body press up against him. It wasn't that he had never hugged her, nor have they never done this before – having been a little too clingy with one another over the past few years.

They've had their fair shares of unconscious cuddling on her couch, hand holding, and lingering hugs.

But this time it was different.

He now knows that her feelings for him was mutual, and somehow he had become very aware of her touch; feeling his cheeks grow hot.

"Thank you." She smiled up at him as he turned his head to meet her gaze.

"Did you mean what you said last night?" He asked.

"Ask one more time, and I'm taking it back."

"I was just making sure so that I could do this." Soonyoung moved his body to face her, leaning down to press a kiss on her lips – smiling instantly when he felt her melt against his touch.

"That was nice."

"We can keep kissing." He said quickly.

Y/n threw her head back and laughed, playfully hitting his chest. "You're dumb."

"You fell for it."

"Yeah, don't make me regret it."

"I'll fill this whole place with flowers, don't threaten me." He shook his finger at her. "You'll be coughing petals until you die."

"I know that was supposed to be romantic, but I'm scared."

Over time, she had learned to keep up with his jokes; almost as if they had become the same person. She had soon become quick to jump along with his bits and humor, at times egging him on.

Seungkwan's worst nightmare.

He rolled his eyes. "You're annoying."

"You fell for it."

"Yeah." He hummed happily. "Let's eat?"

The two happily ate their breakfast, welcoming the new change in the air between them. They have shared meals alone together countless times, this was nothing new.

But the unspoken words that they had yet to discuss had all of a sudden made them feel as though they were two young high schoolers who were left alone with their crush for the very first time.

In the midst of their meal, y/n couldn't help but catch him staring at her – trying her best to calm the butterflies that caused a riot in her stomach. Something that had been happening quiet often in the past month that she had been around him. But of course, this time, they seemed to have multiplied.

"Hey," Soonyoung reached over to place a hand over hers, halting her movement. "I haven't said it in a while but, always okay?"

Always had been their word to each other. It started off as a playful joke, telling each other that they would be there to always be annoying, be the butt of the joke, be there to accompany each other to any mindless errands....

It had been a minute since she had heard him say it, taking her back to the days when she had felt low and he had been there to rescue the day; bringing light into her dark days.

She tilted her head to the side. "Huh?"

"I'm always going to be here."

"I never doubted you one bit."

And it was true.

here hasn't been a day that Soonyoung had missed a call, text, or special day of hers – whether this was something minor like finally finding the Sonny Angel she had been on the hunt for or finally securing a job at the PR company she had been working so hard to interview for.

He had always been there and there was not a single ounce of doubt in her body that he would miss any in the future.

In all the mess going on around in her world, he was her only constant.

"I'm just reassuring you."

"Thank you."

tag list: @leah-rose03 @yoonzinuhh @musingsofananxiouspotato @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @hanniebanggi

«« [an]

hi friends, thank you so so so much for the love and feedback for the last two parts of the always!au.

always was meant to just be all pain and heartache but i feel like i owe my team hoshi girlies some fluff. <;3

i'm currently working on one LAST installation to this au and then i promise i'll have other painful au in line. lol

#seventeen fic #seventeen #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #hoshi fluff #hoshi scenarios #hoshi fic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff

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jinwoowoo · 1 year

Text

Ballgame Date

Male reader x Kep1er Chaehyun smut

Length: 4481 words

Tags: Voyeurism, blowjob

Chaehyun hops on her feet as she walks with you inside the baseball stadium, happy that you took her invitation to a ball game date. Though you are not a fan of any sports and prefer playing video games instead, seeing your girlfriend happy after winning some preseason pass to watch her favorite baseball team gives you a little fluttery feeling in your chest.

"Why is the stadium so empty? Shouldn't it be at least half filled?" You asked after noticing the lack of people to watch the game, far from what you expected when you watch major leagues with her during your home dates.

"Hm? This is normal, YN. People don't usually watch preseason games unless they are a reporter or someone from the league management. Teams that fight before the regular season are just practicing to see their opponent's current strength and test out their own." Chaehyun explained sternly, raising a finger as if she were your mother scolding you for something you did wrong.

Raising your hands in defeat, Chaehyun smiled softly and nudged your chest with her elbow before taking you to one of the thousand empty seats. She personally picked the seat near the dugout and bullpen of her favorite team so she can watch them closely and see who will be on the lineup this season.

After minutes of waiting, the players slowly filled up their benches and start warming up on the sides. Chaehyun stood up and starts calling out her favorite team, cheering the team captain and ace pitcher particularly. The two looked at her and waved their hands, smiling at her and bowed slightly to acknowledge Chaehyun's presence.

You would be lying if you didn't feel a sudden pain in your chest when you saw Chaehyun smiling from ear to ear after she got recognized by her idol players. You haven't seen her that happy much lately, especially when you two are tired from work and didn't have much time to bond with each other. That's why you let her bring you to a ball date to make up for the lost time.

Sensing the sadness by her side, Chaehyun took a glance at you. With face dropping low, hands holding the armrest and eyes staring to the ground, Chaehyun knows that you are being jealous of her favorite players right now. She returned to her seat and leaned towards your stomach, head tilting to face you and block your sight.

"Why are you frowning, YN? You don't wanna watch baseball? We can go home if you feel uncomfortable." Chaehyun asked softly while holding your cheek with her closed fingers, hands forming like a paw and massaging your cheekbones in circular motion.

"It's nothing, Chaehyun. I wish I'm just as cool as those baseball players." You replied, still a bit sullen.

"But you are the coolest person for me, YN. You are always there when I need you. Spoiling all my whining and pampering me. Please don't be sad" Chaehyun smiled and pecked your lips, rubbing her nose to yours right after.

Your lips curved into a smile because of Chaehyun's cuteness and sweet words that tickled your heart. You patted her head and brushed her hair while putting her back in her seat, holding her hand and intertwining your fingers while Chaehyun leaned her head on your shoulder. Everything seems fine and you felt happy again, but it didn't take long because of what happened next.

Chaehyun's happy mood turned sour when the opponent of her favorite team started dominating. The ace pitcher stood on the mount and shut down the batters of the opposing team during the first inning, gaining them a huge lead with 3 points. However, during the 2nd inning, the coach of her favorite team called for a timeout and switched their pitcher with their new member, causing the team to lose its advantage and got dominated.

"The new pitcher is dog shit! Boooo!!" Chaehyun chanted along with some fans you can count on your fingers.

Getting a bit embarrassed by your girlfriend's action, you pulled Chaehyun back to her seat and covered her mouth, hushing her. "Stop it, Chaehyun. The coach must have a reason to switch players. Who knows? Maybe he wants the new pitcher to taste the pressure of a real match so he could expect what to face during the regular season."

"That is still not an excuse, YN. His pitches are too weak and predictable. They don't even hit the center of the catcher's gloves. I thought he was playing for a local high school division." Chaehyun explained angrily, crossing her arms and puffing out some air to blow off some steam.

Having zero knowledge about baseball, you just nodded at Chaehyun's explanation and pulled her towards you, letting her lean on your chest while you hug her arms and lightly pat her shoulder. You are trying your best to keep Chaehyun calm, but the new pitcher is still hitting your girlfriend's nerves especially when she keeps hearing the bats making contact with the pitches he made.

In the end, the fifth inning ended with 0-3 standing during the first inning down to 9-4 in favor of the opponent team- a much more disappointing result than you expected. Chaehyun is in pure dismay seeing her favorite team getting punished by their opponent. You don't want to see her being sad like this, so you offered her to buy some snacks during the intermission before the game resumes.

Dispirited, Chaehyun only nodded and stood up, walking out of the stands towards the back of the stadium where the snack bars could be found. She looked like a kid holding the sleeve of your jersey shirt after losing her favorite stuffed toy, head hung low and dragging her feet on each step. After wandering around, you finally found a snack bar that is open during the game.

"What do you want to eat, Chaehyun? They got turkey leg and sandwiches. Do you want some beer? Maybe not…" You asked as you read the portion of the menu hung on the wall.

"I want hotdogs on a bun, babe. A lot of it. Also extra large cola and two big turkey sandwiches." She replied softly.

Nodding, you ordered six hotdogs on a bun, two large turkey sandwiches, and two extra large cokes for Chaehyun while you got yourself a corndog and pineapple juice. You looked at your girlfriend and saw her lips slowly forming a smile after smelling the food being cooked. She opened her arms and hugged you tight, looking at you with a pout on her lips.

"Thank you, YN. I feel extra hungry because of that newbie pitcher." Chaehyun mumbled.

"It's fine, Chaehyun. We are still on a date so let's enjoy the rest of the game. Just promise me not to shout something bad at the players, okay?" You said and pecked Chaehyun's lips, earning you a soft nod from her.

Good thing the staff prepared your snacks before the game resumed. Since you ordered a lot, they let you borrow a tray to carry all the food in exchange that you bringing them back after the match. You went back to the stands where you two were sitting before but Chaehyun suddenly hugged your arm tight, stopping you in your tracks.

"Let's seat somewhere else, YN. I don't want to watch this game this close when they are losing." Chaehyun whispered which made you look around.

"Are you sure? Is it okay if we go seat somewhere else far?" You asked and Chaehyun just nodded.

"The upper decks are empty. I don't think they would mind if we take a seat or two."

Nodding at her request, you led Chaehyun to the far right of the stadium where she can still watch the game and have proper shade from the sun. As soon as you two sat down, you placed the tray of food on the empty seat beside Chaehyun. She immediately took a big sip of the extra-large cola, quenching her thirst after shouting a few minutes ago.

As soon as the 6th inning came, you don't know what to watch anymore. While the match piqued your interest as Chaehyun's team pours their dedication to catch up for the points they gave away during the previous innings, your girlfriend beside you is having an adorable making.

Chaehyun's cheeks are puffing with the food you ordered, taking bites of the turkey sandwich and hotdogs alternately. She squeals every time a new flavor hits her taste buds, swallowing the chewed food right after and cleansing her palate with the cola before eating on a cycle. You didn't even get a chance to taste the corndog you ordered since Chaehyun ate it too. All you can do is just rubbed Chaehyun's back, helping her so she won't choke on her food.

It is only the 7th lower inning of the game and Chaehyun already finished eating the rest of the food. She took a huge sip of the second extra-large cola, burping cutely while patting her filled stomach. Even if you are hungry as well, seeing Chaehyun smiling with a face messed with ketchup and mustard makes you feel full already. You took some pieces of tissue to wipe her lips, still taking care of your childish girlfriend.

"YN, I still want some hotdogs," Chaehyun said as you wipe plump cheeks.

"Okay, babe. Just stay here and behave, okay? I will buy more food for us."' You said and stood out of your seat, only to be dragged back down by Chaehyun.

"Not that, YN. I want your hotdog"

"W-what?"

The sound of the bat hitting the baseball acted like a bell when you realized what Chaehyun wants. Smirking menacingly, Chaehyun stood up and grabbed your thighs, pulling them until your ass is on the edge of the seat before straddling your lap. The last thing you saw was the batter of the team reaching the first base before Chaehyun completely blocked your vision, leaning forward to kiss you.

Your mind went into a panic state thinking that people might see you and Chaehyun making out in public. You want to grab her shoulders and push her away, tell her to make a room for you two but the way she grabs your Jersey's collar to pull and kiss turns you submissive.

Hungry for more, Chaehyun won't just settle for sloppy wet kisses. She wants to taste you, to feel the passionate love flow between the two of you. From holding your Jersey's collar, Chaehyun slid her hand down and lifted your shirt, caressing your abs while sticking her finger on your navel.

The warmth of Chaehyun's palm on your stomach subconsciously made you moan, giving Chaehyun the opportunity to push her tongue inside your mouth. You almost choked out when Chaehyun's frenzied tongue licks the insides of your oral cavern. Trying to calm her down, even just for a little, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked it hard, swallowing her saliva and pinning her tongue on your palate.

"Babe… Slow down…" You moaned between the kisses but Chaehyun is unstoppable right now, eager to send you to the second base.

Raising her hips and slamming them back down, Chaehyun pressed her crotch on your boner intently, showing you how much she needs you. You groaned between the kisses as she keeps grinding on you, and you don't care anymore if people are watching you and Chaehyun right now.

Your right arm hooks at the back of Chaehyun's waist, pulling her closer to your body and assisting her in grinding on your lap. Your other hand caresses Chaehyun's smooth tummy, lifting her clothes a little to fondle her enormous tits.

Chaehyun moaned sexily when she felt your hand squeezing her boobs. Your fingers press her soft fatty flesh delicately, palm pressing down on her nipples and kneading her doughy teats. If there's something you wish to hold forever in your life, that would be your girlfriend's sensitive breasts.

Moans calling out each other's names can be heard coming from the two of you. Chaehyun is basically fucking you right now, just still on full clothes. It already came to the point that you want to pin Chaehyun down on the floor and fuck her, not giving a shit about what people might say. Already had enough, you stopped groping Chaehyun's tits and held the waist of her pants, putting your thumbs on the garter and about to pull them down only if Chaehyun didn't stop you.

"No YN… I said I want to eat your hotdog…" Chaehyun panted as she pulled away from the kiss.

She removed her hand from your shirt and unbuttoned your pants, unzipping the zipper right after. Holding the waist of your pants and boxer, Chaehyun then kneeled in front of you and tugged them down to your ankles.

Your hard and erect cock stood proudly, veins popping out with glans glistening with precum. She immediately grabbed and stroked you, pumping the shaft fast and spitting on it.

"YN… Try to be quiet, okay? I don't want to get banned from entering the stadium because of you…" Chaehyun whispered, giving you a little warning to remember.

Spreading your legs apart and scooting close between your thighs, Chaehyun's face is just two inches away from your dick, the same distance as the current runner on the home plate before he was called out. Chaehyun sticks her tongue out, wet tip tracing the veins on your shaft while keeping eye contact with you.

"Chaehyun… Oh god…" You moaned, feeling Chaehyun's tongue finally reach the tip, flicking the oozing slit of your glans and slurping the released precum.

Loving how your body shuddered on the jolt of feeling she gave and your reaction, Chaehyun released your cock from her hand for a moment to tie her hair, something you watch a lot of times and give you a major turn-on every single time. Now that her long hair is out of the way, Chaehyun leaned back to your cock.

"My cute boyfriend YN~ thank you for always spoiling me. Now let me spoil you this time~"

You swear you almost came when Chaehyun laid your cock into her palm and rubbed her cheeks all over it. Her cuteness matched with her soft cheeks feels so illegal yet so good, especially when your cock is grinding all over her beautiful face.

After rubbing your dick all over her face and worshipping it, Chaehyun gives your cock some wet kisses, engulfing the shaft on her lips and sucking to give it hickeys. She grabbed your cock by the head and pushed it close to your abs, leaning down further to give your balls some sucking too.

Already wet and licked on all sides, Chaehyun decided to take your pleasure to the next base and hit the third. Grabbing your dick from the base and giving you short shallow strokes, she parted her soft lips to take your glans inside her mouth. One strong sip from Chaehyun already sent you to the bliss of arousal. A small amount of precum was forced to be sucked out of your tip, making Chaehyun swallow thickly.

"Babe… Take it slow. You are gonna make me cum so fast" you panted, feeling the force of Chaehyun's suction force you to squirt more precum.

Chaehyun giggled and sent vibrations to your cock, giving you exotic pleasure. Smiling, she paced down her blowjob since she wants to suck your dick longer and hold your orgasm as much as possible. She already forgot the game as she found something more fun to do. Switching from deep head bobbing and a combination of jerking off and sucking the head, Chaehyun tries a variety of blowjobs and sees which one you like the most. She even took her phone out of her pocket and put it on the camera, taking a selfie of her sucking your dick with a victory peace sign near her eye.

Though you enjoy the pleasure Chaehyun's mouth gives, you can't just idle and have to make her feel good as well. Taking the phone out of Chaehyun's hand, you switched the camera into a video recording one and take a video of your girlfriend sucking your dick. Your other hand holds her cheek and caresses its softness to your palm, giving her some nice soft slaps that make her wince a bit for the video.

"Pull your shirt up, Chaehyun. I want to feel your boobs in my hand." You demanded which Chaehyun complied.

Lifting her jersey shirt up, Chaehyun's boobs which were as white as steamed buns made you drool inside your mouth, creating a deep cleavage when her sports bra can't contain its fullness. Leaving her cheek to touch her boobs, Chaehyun moaned instantly when you cupped her udders and squeezed them firmly.

Satisfied with her expression, you leaned down a little to grab Chaehyun's sports bra and pulled it up, freeing her jiggling boobs from its tight confinement. Zooming the camera a little, you focused on capturing Chaehyun's soft boobs on your palm. Your thumb and index finger hold her erect nipple, twisting and tugging it before you release and watch Chaehyun's boob bounce back due to its elasticity.

The pinching, tugging, and rough groping on Chaehyun's boobs made her tear up in both pain and pleasure. Her hands gripped hard on your thighs, holding for her dear life and trying not to moan out loud. Seeing the tears forming in her eyes, you stopped groping Chaehyun's boobs for a moment to wipe them off, cupping her cheek again and rubbing your thumb on her skin after.

"Do you like this Chaehyun? Sucking off your boyfriend's dick because you hate watching your favorite team lose its match?" You asked in a condescending tone, yet Chaehyun only nod fast to agree. "Such a slut… I bet you didn't really bring me here to watch the game. You just want to suck my dick in public and show everyone how such a cockslut you are."

Chaehyun nodded once more, loving how your giving and loving demeanor flipped and treated her like a slut. Groping her boobs for one last time, Chaehyun winced and shuddered as you let go of her tit to hold the back of her head. Bucking your hips forward, you pushed Chaehyun down and forced her to take your dick down to her throat.

Chaehyun's loud gagging served as music to your ears as she struggled to take adjust to your girth. Yet instead of pushing her hips away to breathe, she took the challenge and kept still like the good girl she is even if her airway is blocked. Her white skin turned pink due to the lack of oxygen. Her grip on your thighs is weakening, giving you the sign to finally let go of her head.

As soon as you let go of her head, Chaehyun tilted her head back and breathed deeply, gasping for air to recover the oxygen she lost. Your cock is covered with Chaehyun's mucus and spit, making a slimy silk strand of mixed fluids connect your dick and her face. After regaining her energy, she goes back to lapping her tongue on your messy dick, licking it like a dog enjoying her favorite bone. If that scene alone doesn't lead you near your orgasm, I don't know what will make you cum anymore.

"I'm close, Chaehyun… Do you want me to cum on your face? Or should I just feed you my cum instead? Are you even a good slut to receive my cum?" You asked as you feel your ground tightening, balls are done loading up and waiting for a release.

Chaehyun freed your cock out of her hungry mouth again, her chin and cheeks are messy with her own saliva. "Please give me a facial, YN. I want to feel your thick cum on my skin."

Different from what she wanted to do in the first place, you nodded and took her hand from your thigh and let her jerk you off. Reaching your limit, you grabbed the back of Chaehyun's hair and tugged it downward, forcing her to tilt her head back to display her cute beautiful face as your target.

"I'm close, Chaehyun! Shit, you always feel good!~" you groaned as you felt your cum already at the tip of your dick.

Hearing your words, Chaehyun sped up her hand until you reached your orgasm and blasted your load on her face. Your first load shot like a bullet and hit Chaehyun right at the center of her nose, splashing outward to her nose bridge and lips. The second and third load, thicker and much larger in volume thanks to the weeks you didn't have sex with Chaehyun, shoots out like a web string and dragged from her chin up to her forehead, covering most of Chaehyun's face. The rest of your load jetted out on her soft cheeks, masking her face entirely with nothing dropping off due to how thick your semen is.

"Holy shit Chaehyun… You look so gorgeous with my cum all over your face…" You panted as you flop down to your seat.

With Chaehyun's hair still on your hand, you brought it forward and wrapped it around your cock, using her smooth silky locks to wipe your dick clean and release what was left on your urethra. You then pressed the stop button on Chaehyun's phone to stop recording, saving it so she can watch them later.

Chaehyun stick her tongue out and licked her lips, savoring the taste of your creamy cum before speaking. "YN, pass me some napkins, please. Your jizz feels warm on my skin, but they are sticky and messy."

While laughing at your girlfriend who's trying to find the tray blindly, you helped her out and placed some napkin on her hand. She wiped her eyelids clean first to regain her sight, cleaning her cheeks and forehead right after. After cleaning the mess, Chaehyun looked at the used wet napkins with your cum on them.

"Do you want to see something cool?" Chaehyun asked which made you tilt your head in confusion. She suddenly takes all the cum-soaked napkins and put them in her mouth, chewing them like it is pieces of gum.

"Yah! What are you doing, Chaehyun? Those are dirty!" You scolded Chaehyun but she only smiled back.

A weird erotic feeling hits you when you saw her chewing them as if they were a delicacy, you even hear the sloshing sound of your cum in her mouth as she passes the fluid from one cheek to another. Acting like a dog owner who got his pet put something bad in its mouth, you tried to squeeze Chaehyun's cheeks and take the tissue out of her mouth, but it only resulted in some of the white translucent fluids seeping at the edge of her lips.

After acting like a naughty kid, Chaehyun made a loud swallowing sound as she ate your cum and the napkins, opening her mouth right after to show you that she ate it all.

"Hihi~ thanks for the hotdog treat, YN." Chaehyun giggled as she put her clothes back in order. She then realized that the game hasn't ended yet and looked at the scoreboard. "What happened to the game already?"

Rubbing your temples as the headache caused by your naughty Chaehyun kicks in, you pulled your pants and boxers back up, tucking them clean to remove the evidence of a blowjob. You grabbed Chaehyun by the waist and let her sit on your lap, back facing you so you can lean your chin on her shoulder and grab her tits.

"Omo! They managed to catch up! Fighting, team captain!" Chaehyun screamed as she cheer for the team captain.

The game is almost a cliche of every baseball drama. It is the final lower inning of the game, bases are loaded with two outs already, putting the last hope on the team captain of Chaehyun's favorite team.

As the pitcher draws his hand and finished his form, he threw an amazing fastball that flew toward the home plate. The team captain braced his hips, swinging the bat in full might and sent the ball flying up towards the left field.

The loud clashing sound made everyone silent. Chaehyun followed the ball with her sight, hands clasped tight while praying for the ball to fly outside the field. Sadly, it was a few feet away from the stands and the left fielder jumped high to catch the ball, resulting in a flyout.

"Fuck! That could have been a grand slam if the ball flew further." Chaehyun groaned as she kick the empty seat in front of her, frustrated.

"It's fine, Chaehyun. Your team fought well even if it is just a practice match." You said as you pulled her up to her feet and grabbed the tray you had to return.

"Really? I was determined to let you hit a home run if they got a grand slam." She grinned but you shrugged her words off as if you don't what she was saying.

Chaehyun wrapped her arm around yours and went out of the stadium, returning the tray you borrowed to carry all of the food you ordered. Still sulking and ranting, Chaehyun keeps murmuring how close the game was, repeating what she was saying as if she was chanting a curse.

"Aigoo, my Chaehyunie. I'm pretty sure they will practice hard to win their next match. Don't worry, I will buy the season pass for the upcoming season so we can watch them every time they have a game."

"Really? Yay! Thank you, YN~ I will get you to hit the fifth base when we got home." Chaehyun chuckled as she lets go of your hand, heading out first toward the parking lot.

"Eh? But there are only four plates on the field. Right miss?" Still baffled, you asked the staff of the snack stall.

The girl only giggled and leaned closer. "Fifth base means she's letting you fuck her ass, mister."

"W-what?!" You gasped in disbelief. Just then, you remembered what Chaehyun said a while ago. "What about homerun? Does it mean anything?"

"Let me think… I think it means letting you have sex with her. Good luck, mister. It looks like your girlfriend wants something to happen tonight."

Laughing at you, the girl brought the tray back to the kitchen and left you baffled. You quickly looked around and saw Chaehyun standing at the exit, winking. This cutie, you thought. Now that you know what Chaehyun wants, you ran as fast as you could chase her. Chaehyun sees you running towards her and quickly turned around the corner, still acting like a kid.

#chaehyun smut #kep1er smut #Kpop smut

670 notes · View notes

ohgodnotagainn · 10 months

Text

girl in a coffee shop

summary → 4 times bob recommended a drink + 1 time he recommended something else.

warnings → swearing, allusions to sex, probably some typos in there, coffee shop au, everyone is like 28ish in this

length → 5.1K

pairing → robert "bob" floyd x fem reader

a/n → this is SO self indulgent, but it's turned into my favorite fic i've written thus far. i hope you all love it as much as i do. i love, adore, and appreciate feedback, but as always, be nice or be gone. if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist let me know.

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“You’d be the pretty girl in a coffee shop, sweet as candy lemon drops, with your favorite pair of Birkenstocks - that’d be you.”

You found Top Brews completely by accident - your apartment was proving to be too distracting to finish editing your last shoot and so, in a fit of frustration, you googled the closest cafe with free internet. Five minutes later, you were pulling into the parking lot with your laptop and a dream.

The shop was rather quaint - local artwork lined the walls and a variety of couches, armchairs, and tables littered the dark wooden floors. The place was alive with people slaving away on laptops, first dates, and old friends catching up over steaming lattes. You could tell these four walls harbored a community, and you wondered how you had missed it all this time.

Walking up to the bar you realized that the eclectic vibes weren’t what made this little shop special, it was the staff. A stunning brunette greeted you with a warm smile, and behind her you could see a blonde and a mustached man arguing over the ‘right’ way to do the dishes.

“Hey there! I haven’t seen you around here before - my name is Nat but you can call me Phoenix. I know the menu is a bit overwhelming, so if you have any questions don’t be afraid to ask!”

You weren’t sure how she could tell that you were overwhelmed, but you could guess it wasn’t uncommon for how extensive the chalkboard menu was. There were so many drink options you weren’t entirely sure where to start and you hadn’t thought much about what you would want in the short time it took you to slip on a pair of Birkenstocks and make the trek here.

“This is my first time in, do you have any recommendations?”

The smile on her face grew wider as she smacked the shoulder of a slender man with glasses hidden behind the espresso machine.

“Ahh, if you want recommendations then Bob here is your man. He’s yet to steer someone wrong and makes the best concoctions you’ll ever taste.”

Bob, as Phoenix called him, seemed startled when he looked up from the pitcher he was steaming. Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met his gentle ones, and you were intrigued by his calm demeanor despite all the hustle and bustle around him.

“Well then, Bob was it? I guess I’ll trust your reputation - surprise me, I’m not picky.”

You were finishing up paying when you heard Bob curse loudly, “Shit!” You glanced over just in time to see hot milk pouring over the edges of the metal pitcher onto his hands as he frantically turned off the steam wand. His neck and cheeks were painted red, no doubt embarrassed by what happened.

Words tumbled out of his mouth while he made quick work of wiping down the bar with a wet rag. “I - uh - I promise I know how to do my job, I just get so in the zone sometimes and I got distracted and Rooster is back there squawking so loud I can’t hear myself think and -”

His words and motions came to a halt as he heard you giggling, and though it may have been at his expense, he would do anything to hear it every day.

You tried to keep a straight face, but you were still in a fit of giggles as you said, “You guys keep a Rooster back there? I’m not sure the health department would appreciate that very much.”

At your words, the mustached man from the great dish debate whipped around with a hand to his chest and pretend indignation written on his face. “Excuse you! I’ll have you know that inspector Sharon loves me and my keen sense for knowing what needs to be clean and what needs to be dirty.”

Everyone behind the bar groaned in annoyance as Phoenix pushed him back towards the sink, “You’ve lost your privilege of talking you absolute buffoon, go back to the dishpit and reflect on your life choices,” she looked at the clock, then turned back to you and whispered, “Believe it or not, that’s the longest he’s made it without losing his talking privileges all week.”

“But it’s only 9:30?” you questioned.

A cup of mystery appeared in front of you as Bob cut in with a playful grin, “Yeah, he’s making some big strides. Yesterday he only got to 7:05. We open at 7:00.”

You met his eyes and shook your head laughing. “Sounds like you may have been better off with an actual rooster.” You lifted the cup, eyes widening as soon as the hot beverage hit your tongue. “Holy shit, Bob.”

His eyes widened to match yours as he started to reach for the cup, “Fuck do you not like it? I’m so sorry, I can make you something else -”

“Oh, no!” You were vehemently shaking your head, “I didn’t mean it like that,” You pulled the cup out of his reach, “This is just the best coffee I’ve ever had - where have you been all my life? You have to clue me in to what you made so I can order if you aren’t here.”

His heart was fluttering at your kind remarks and the idea of you coming in here more, but he tamped down the feeling. “It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk.” With rosey cheeks he looked down at the rag in his hands and continued, “It’s actually my personal favorite.”

“Well, Bob, it might just be my new personal favorite too.” You slipped a $5 bill out of your laptop case and into the tip jar. You looked back at him and raised your cup with a wink, “Thanks again!”

Bob was stunned into silence and couldn’t help but watch you as you made yourself at home in a big armchair by the fireplace. Where had you been all of his life?

Phoenix once again startled him when she cleared her throat - he was so wrapped up in thoughts of you he forgot she was there. “Dude, what was that? I can’t even remember the last time you burned a pitcher of milk.”

Hangman joined in from the sinks, “Yeah, man, I didn’t think you were even capable of messing up - you must be down bad.”

He groaned at their prodding, “Fuck off, Jake, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He did know what Jake was talking about, but he wouldn’t admit that to the blonde - if his ego got any bigger they’d have to expand into the space next door to fit it all.

Instead, he let your words play on a loop in his head and snuck peaks at you cuddled in that armchair every chance he could.

He hoped and prayed to every God he could think of.

Please make her a regular.

“I wonder what it’s like to be in love by you, I wondered if I’d ever be in love for you. All these doubts in my head keep me from finding you.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You had to go back to there. You told yourself it was because the coffee had ruined other places for you, but you knew it was Bob. You had stayed in the shop for hours, somehow managing to get a substantial amount of work done between sneaking glances over your screen at the man who rocked glasses better than anyone you’d ever met. Would going back the very next day be weird? Maybe it was, but you didn’t care as you packed up your laptop and laced up your shoes.

The short journey felt like ages as your heart sped up with your wandering mind. Bob ran rampant through your brain and you found yourself unwilling to even try to stop - stuck on thoughts of him in your kitchen, crafting drinks on your Breville in the morning after a long night together.

You shouldn’t be thinking of someone you met once in this way. You didn’t even know if he had a partner already! You groaned and let your head hit the wheel - you had to get over it.

If you embarrassed yourself there was no way you could find another comparable shop - the coffee was simply too good and the internet too fast. Why go through all that when you were almost certain he wasn’t interested in you anyways?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you gathered every ounce of courage in your body and went inside. You could do this.

Bob had spent his morning in a similar fashion, plagued by thoughts of you. He woke up thirty minutes earlier than usual, allowing himself extra time to get ready just in case you happened to come back.

Each time the little bell above the door rang he couldn’t help but check to see if it was you - and his heart sank a little deeper each time it wasn’t. What if you hated the coffee he made you yesterday and that’s why you didn’t come back? What would he say if you did come in the door? Would you give it to him if he asked for your number?

Who was he kidding? Even if you were single, he didn’t stand a chance when Rooster, Coyote, Hangman, and Phoenix were there.

Ding, ding.

He didn’t bother looking up this time.

“Bob! Hi!”

He had to be hearing things, had he officially gone crazy?

But sure enough, when he looked up he was met with your smiling face. Oh no. He had been thinking about you coming in all morning, but he wasn’t prepared for it to actually happen..

Say something, say something, say something..

“Oh, uh, hey!” Smooth, Bob. He hoped you didn’t see him cringe as soon as the words left his mouth. “Back again already?” Your smile faltered a bit at his words, and he caught his mistake immediately. “Not that I don’t want to see you again, because I do! I was hoping you’d come back, actually. I mean, not in a creepy way, of course.” He could feel himself rambling again, he had to bring this back before he really scared you off. “I’m sorry, let me try that again. Were you wanting the same coffee or do you want to try something new today?”

Now you were smiling wider than before - his rambling was endearing and your heart was nearly bursting at the fact that he was hoping you’d come in again.

“Well, I was going to get the same thing, but now that you mention it - I think I want to try something new. Got another ace up your sleeve?”

He couldn’t believe you were trusting him blind again.

A smile now graced his face too, “I think I’ve got one or two left.”

With an iced raspberry white mocha in hand and butterflies loose in your stomach, you set up camp in the same chair you had the day before.

Back up at the counter, Jake saddled up next to Bob.

“Two words - Down. Bad.”

“The glasses that you hardly wear .. and makeup, no you don’t really care"

Top Brews had all but become your office - now a permanent part of your daily routine. It had been two weeks since you first found the place but you couldn’t imagine life without it - the drinks were always stellar, you were friends with everyone on staff, and you were getting through work more efficiently than you ever had.

You really only had one problem with it - Bob. You suspected that if he was available and interested he would’ve made a move by now, but you couldn’t stop your growing feelings for the quiet barista and the little hearts he always poured on the tops of your lattes.

He made your mornings a little sweeter - often chatting with you over the red espresso machine while he whipped up your drink of the day. You rarely saw him do this with anybody else, usually too in the zone to make small talk, and you couldn’t help but feel special. He was never in too much of a rush to talk to you, and nobody else had ever made you feel so important before.

Through your chats you learned that he owned the place with Natasha, and overtime they somehow roped all of their friends from college into working there with them. Coyote overheard this and appeared out of thin air to inform you that it took major begging to get him to quit his office job and join the staff.

Bob informed you that it really only took a six pack of Dos Equis and the promise of priority aux privileges. (Coyote took a lot of pride in this, spending hours on Spotify crafting playlists for every occasion).

You also learned that, no, their parents don’t hate them, they just liked having their nicknames adorning their tags. They wanted those who came to know they were part of the squad, that they considered every single person who came through those doors a friend - regardless if they came in once or every day.

You looked forward to these chats more than you’d like to admit.

This particular morning you were not doing well. You had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, things going awry left and right. Your phone hadn’t been fully plugged in and you woke up late. You got a scathing email from an unhappy client, who demanded they get their non-refundable deposit back from the shoot they didn’t show up to. Another client didn’t make any indication whether they liked their gallery or not, leaving you even more insecure. You ripped your last pair of contacts and had to opt for glasses - that were four years old and out of prescription - instead. To top it off, you were missing one of your most important SD cards.

If you weren’t so superstitious, you would say that things couldn’t get any worse.

For once you were hoping to not see Bob. You didn’t feel like yourself and you were feeling rather self conscious about your appearance.

Like everything else that morning, you weren’t so lucky. You saw him the second you entered the building and scurried to your armchair instead of the counter to order like normal. You would have to set up camp first and get your coffee once he went to the bathroom or went on break.

Twenty minutes into working and you were left more frustrated than before. Lightroom was crashing on you every five photos, you were developing a migraine from the lack of caffeine, and Bob still had not moved from his place behind the bar. You could feel his eyes on you every so often and you knew he was probably figuring out how to nicely kick you out.

You were loitering after all.

Suddenly you felt a presence in front of you and you looked up to see Phoenix smiling down at you.

Here it comes.

Without a word, she produced a glass from behind her back and placed it on the little table next to you.

“You must have the wrong person, this can’t be for me - I haven’t ordered yet.” You told her, sheepishly pushing the glass away.

“No, I’m certain this is for you,” she nodded her head in Bob’s direction, who was currently looking anywhere but at you, “Something about how he could tell you’re having a bad day and could use a pick me up. He’s insisting it be on the house and instructed all of us to refuse letting you pay, so, don’t even try. Also, you cannot tell him I told you this, but he won’t shut up about how much he likes your glasses. I think you could get away with never paying here again if you wore those everyday.”

You were shocked, your mouth agape and unable to form words.

“Oh! I was also sent on operation pick-me-up to give you this,” she fished your SD card out of her apron pocket and handed it to you, “We found it sweeping yesterday and couldn’t tell if it was yours or not. Bob kept it in his wallet for safe keeping until we saw you today, just in case.”

You flipped the little disc around in your fingers - completely shellshocked now.

“I uh, I don’t even know what to say other than thank you, seriously. Are you sure I can’t pay? I feel bad and it’s really no trouble at all,” you said as you fished around in your laptop case for some cash.

Shaking her head, she started to walk away from you, yelling over her shoulder, “Don’t even try!”

You could feel your migraine dissipating as you sipped on the lavender cold brew topped with a sweet cold foam.

Bob had saved your entire day.

You slipped a $20 bill in the tip jar when no one was looking.

“Oh, I, could only hope that you would feel it too - if we locked eyes right here in this crowded room for just one second it’d just be us two”

A month had passed since your first visit and the tattered blue armchair by the fireplace was now your spot. Sure, it wasn’t written anywhere, but you were there for hours everyday like clockwork. It was common knowledge and the other regulars respected it as your territory, sometimes even going as far as leaving a jacket in place to make sure it was vacant upon your arrival.

You always sat there because it was the comfiest chair, you liked the warmth that came from the fireplace, and the internet connection in that specific part of the cafe was the strongest. You definitely didn’t always sit there because you had a stellar - and discreet - view of the bar.

Okay, maybe you did.

But if you couldn’t actually be with Bob, there was no harm in looking, right? How could you resist a few peaks here and there when his hands looked that good moving expertly around the bar?

Yeah, that was going with you to the grave.

It had been a busy morning and there was not an empty chair or table in sight. The crowd was overtaking your space and you could tell, even through your headphones, how loud it was getting. Even the internet was struggling to keep up with the traffic.

The most recent batch of photos was in the process of exporting and with how slow it was moving, you knew it was going to be a while.

You didn’t mind much. You could allow yourself generous looks at Bob without worrying so much about being caught - everyone behind the bar too preoccupied with the rush at hand to notice - and there was no guilt around being distracted from your own workload.

Without warning, Bob’s eyes snapped up and met your gaze.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

You had been caught red-handed, but your eyes stayed locked on his and you nodded at the freshy vacated chair next to yours in a silent invitation. The only way out of the embarrassment now was through, you had to pretend this was the plan all along.

Bob wanted nothing more than to join you in your corner, but there was a hoard of tickets still waiting to be made and Jake was scheduled to take his break first. With an exaggerated look of disappointment on his face he held up a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other, shrugging his shoulders as a way to politely decline your invitation.

You nodded in understanding, but he didn’t miss the dejected look in your eyes as they dropped back to the laptop screen.

God damnit. He was grateful that his business was flourishing, but he finally had a chance and he was barred from taking it.

Unbeknownst to him, Rooster had seen the entire exchange.

“Hey man, I got bar so you can take your break,” he stated, leaving little room for argument.

“Oh, uh, I actually think Hangman is supposed to break first today,” Bob responded, eyes downcast and sadness laced in his tone.

Jake was quick to interject, “Yeah! I’m starving and I opened so if anyone is going on break its -”

He was cut off by Bradley’s elbow making sharp contact with his gut.

“Nope! It’s Bob. Here’s a slice of banana bread big enough for two, do with it what you will.” Bradley winked, shoving a plate in Bob’s hands and shooing him away from the counter

Hangman grumbled, still doubled over and cradling his stomach, “We really need an HR department.”

Bob ignored him as he untied his apron and grabbed two forks, making his way over to the fireplace before he could talk himself out of it.

You thought nothing of it when you felt a presence in the chair beside you - it had been occupied for almost the entire morning - but you were confused when a plastic fork suddenly appeared in front of your eyes.

“Not sure if I can finish this piece of banana bread on my own, interested in sharing?” Bob asked you with a blush on his cheeks.

You grabbed the fork out his hand and clinked it against his, “I would love nothing more.” You took a big bite and your eyes got large, “I need this recipe, I need it more than I’ve needed anything else in the history of needing things.”

Bob let out a chuckle, “I wish I could give it to you, but unfortunately Rooster has it under lock and key. Believe me when I say we’ve tried to get it from him since freshman year, but It’s his mom’s old recipe that they used to make together before she died.”

You were silent for a moment.

“That’s actually really sweet. Does he do a lot in the kitchen then?” you asked softly.

Laughing, Bob answered, “Oh absolutely not, he’s a master baker but I wouldn’t trust him to make a box of mac n’ cheese. A truly horrid cook.” You laughed this time, and he continued, “He was actually the first one to join the team here, his only request was that he wanted to bake. He says it’s to keep the memory of his parents alive, but truthfully I think it’s when he feels closest to them.”

You hummed in understanding and took another bite, “Well, here’s to Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw then.”

Bob took another bite before raising his fork, “Here, here!”

The conversation stood still for a moment before you turned to Bob with a serious look on your face, “Rooster, Phoenix, Fanboy, Payback, Hangman, Coyote - everyone else has silly nicknames. How come you don’t have one?”

“Bob actually is a nickname, even though it’s a derivative of my real name. I used to go by Robby, but when I was sharing a dorm with Hangman our freshman year he would always use Bob’s Burgers to fall asleep.”

“That’s absurd! Everyone knows that American Dad is the superior adult cartoon for sleeping purposes!” you quipped.

“That’s what I always said!” Bob agreed before continuing, “Anyways, the opening jingle started to really drive me crazy but I never said anything about it until one fated day when he put it on while we were all hanging out. I heard one note and went ballistic - we got in the biggest fight we’ve ever had and it ended with him saying that I was ‘jealous that I was the inferior Bob.’ The name just stuck after that,” He ended with a shrug.

You had a hand over your mouth, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You started laughing, and before he knew what was happening, Bob was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes and his stomach was burning.

Wiping away stray tears, he looked down at his watch and a deep frown overtook his features.

“Are you okay?” You asked, suddenly worried that you had offended him by laughing so hard.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. I’m just bummed that my break is almost over, none of those fools,” he pointed to the bar, “keep as good of company as you do.”

You watched as Rooster and Hangman thumb wrestled, Fanboy and Payback standing to the side, acting as referees, ��I don’t know, that looks like a pretty intense match.” Bob just laughed again and shook his head.

“I enjoyed this too, you know. You should join me on your breaks more often, Robby.”

“I look forward to it,” he said earnestly, leaving you to enjoy your iced strawberry matcha with a new stampede of elephants taking residence in your stomach.

“I’m just another boy in a coffee shop, dreaming of a love that’s not .. I’m just dreaming of a girl in a coffee shop”

Another month had come and gone, and Bob didn’t let a day go by without sitting with you on his break. If he sometimes took 25 minutes instead of 15, well, nobody said anything about it. Everyone loved you, and everyone loved how happy you seemed to make Bob.

Everyone was, however, frustrated beyond belief that neither of you had made a move yet.

Phoenix was the first to crack, and it was under her supervision that operation intervention staff meeting (everyone thought the name Rooster pitched was stupid, but nobody could come up with something better) was born.

When Bob arrived at her house, ready to handle all the usual housekeeping, he was surprised to find that everyone was already there and sitting in a circle - he always the first to arrive.

“Bob, dear boy. Come in and sit with us.” Rooster said, trying to act normal yet failing miserably.

The weird tension in the room was palpable, and Bob was unsure what to do other than oblige, “What’s going on?” he asked, before finding a place to sit between Fanboy and Phoenix.

“We’ve decided, dear boy, that you finally grow a spine and ask her out,” Rooster replied, crossing his arms.

“First of all, stop calling me ‘dear boy’ - it’s really weird. Second of all, ask who out? I don’t know what you guys are on about.” Bob coolly responded.

Suddenly a hoard of pillows was thrown his way and everyone wore the same displeased look on their faces. They were obviously talking about you, and they knew that Bob knew they were talking about you.

“Okay, okay. Fine. I get it. I can’t ask her out though! I love talking to her everyday, she’s one of my best friends at this point. It would make things weird,” he continued.

Hangman groaned, responding before anyone else could, “You really think that would make it weird? Really? After two months of weird sexual tension that everyone but the two of you can see?”

Now he was on the receiving end of the swarm of throw pillows as a chorus of “not the time” “really Hangman?” and “you’re disgusting” rang out.

Payback, who had been quietly observing up until this point, decided it was time to step in. “Listen, man. If you really don’t want to ask her out, none of us are going to make you do it.” Phoenix looked like she was about to object but he shot her a look, “None of us are going to make you do it.”

Bob looked relieved for a moment, but Payback wasn’t finished yet, “However, I think you’re doing yourself, and her, a huge injustice if you don’t. She looks at you like you hung the stars, and you look at her like she hung the moon. We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but don’t you want to find out how much sweeter life can be if you stopped selling yourself short?”

“I don’t know how, and I’m scared.” Bob said quietly.

Everyone seemed to sober at his words, and Phoenix pulled him into a tight hug on the couch. She took hold of his hands and looked him in the eyes, “Then we’ll help you figure it out, and we’ll be there with you every step of the way. You deserve this, Bob, don’t let her pass you by only wondering what could’ve been.”

So, they all spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan - eventually falling asleep sprawled around Phoenix’s living room.

•••••

Everything seemed normal when you arrived at Top Brews, albeit there did seem to be a fair fewer cars in the parking lot. You didn’t think much of it, though, Tuesday’s were generally a pretty slow day at the shop.

It wasn’t until you walked up to the door and noticed the sign that said your name and to not enter unless it was you that you realized this was not going to be an average Tuesday morning.

Once inside, you followed a trail of meticulously placed coffee beans to your usual corner, where Bob sat nervously with a coffee mug in one hand and a bouquet of daisies in the other. You could barely hear Billy Joel over the blood rushing to your head, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves and anticipation crash into you.

You had a million questions, but settled on a familiar one instead, “What’s in the cup today, Robby?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a honey vanilla latte with cinnamon steamed into the oat milk. I’m not sure if you remember this or not, but I made it for you the first time you came in,” he stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that day. I’ve tested a thousand different recipes - not all winners, by the way - to make sure I can always make you something new. I used to hate taking breaks, but since I started sitting with you they are the highlight of my day. I never realized how much I missed being called Robby until you said it. I really don’t want to mess this up with you, you make my life sweeter in every way without even realizing it. If this is weird, and I’m misreading things, feel free to walk out that door and pretend this never happened but I am begging you, if that’s the case, please don’t stop coming -”

He was cut off by your lips making contact with his.

Pulling back, you allowed your eyes to meet his, “I remember every drink you’ve ever made me, I keep them saved to a list on my phone. I came back to this shop because of you. Watching you make drinks and sing whatever song is playing under your breath because you think nobody is looking has become my favorite pastime. I can’t even use my own Breville anymore because all I can think about is you using it instead. You’ve overtaken every inch of my brain and you’ve made the most bitter days sweet again. I could never stop coming through that door because I know you’re on the other side of it. This is by far the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, and I love it.”

You connected your lips to his again when a sudden roar of cheers and clapping filled the space.

Bob pulled away this time - laughing softly at your startled expression whilst the others poured out of the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah, I had a little help.”

▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️▫️

taglist:

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writingmuses · 1 year

Text

Love Potion

Request: Based on a request for an IC x Reader, either a sex pollen fic or a magic potion fic (I may or may not do a sex pollen fic in the future 👀)

Elain x Reader, Nessian X Reader, Azriel x Reader, some mentions of Lucien X Reader (maybe I’ll do a prequel?) → a little bit for everyone.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, minors do not engage. Self-pleasure, fingering, grinding, breast play, p in v, biting, mentions of being under the influence. 100% consensual. ANGST.

Use of she/her for the reader. The reader is Rhy’s sister.

Literal Porn with plot for the sake of porn but there is a lot of potential angst to turn this into an actual fic if anyone's interested by the end (so much drama to unpack).

Synopsis: Reader accidentally drinks a love potion. As desire courses through Y/Ns veins, and her inhibitions lower, she encounters the different members of the Inner Court.

Word count: 15.7K (WHOOPS)

-MOR-

“What is it?” Mor asks, gently tapping on the side of the glass pitcher. She brings her hands to her knees and lowers herself down to eye level with the fluid inside. She watches the plum-coloured liquid swirl within the glass, glimmering with tiny flecks of gold, dancing around one another to music that does not exist, suspended in infinite motion.

She must admit that it is beautiful. That, however, just makes her all the more suspicious. Mor blows an annoying stray curl out of her face and swivels to meet her cousin’s eyes. Rhysand’s violet gaze is clouded and dark, full of irritation. That means, Mor notes, that her dearest cousin is already aware of what’s inside the pitcher that has been gifted to her High Lady.

“Yes, Lucien, do indulge my cousin and tell everyone about the swill you have brought into my home," Rhys voice clips. Lucien had arrived at the River House mere minutes ago, holding a large oak tray. On that tray sat the pitcher containing the mystery liquid, one ridiculously bejewelled challis, a single red rose, and, a note addressed to the High Lady:

Dearest Feyre,

I hope you are well and safe.

I apologize for my dismissal of your title as High Lady earlier this year. You are more worthy than any other female I have come across in my many centuries.

I understand now that you would make a wondrous High Lady in any court.

I am sending this note with Lucien along with my finest tea as a token of peace and as a toast to you in your new role. I would love for you to sample the wine and write me back letting me know how it made you feel.

Please do not tell Rhysand of my gift to you, for I fear he would not understand this gesture between friends.

I count the seconds to your reply.

All my love,

Tamlin

Lucien is quite pale. His normally bronzed skin looks ashy and his eyes are sullen. “Rhys… I-I know what you must be thinking.” The male clears his throat, worrying his bottom lip,“I’m sure he just wasn’t in his right mind - or maybe he didn’t know the properties of the liquid. Tam-”

Darkness begins to creep out from behind Rhys, his face stony.“Do not mention that name in my house right now, Lucien. I have half a mind to winnow over to Spring and gut the coward where he stands.” Rhys holds the note in his hands and quickly crumples it into a tight ball. “Do not make excuses for that vile creature.” His eyes burn with fury as he sends the balled up note careening through the air, and right into the roaring fireplace.

Almost all of the inner court was gathered around the two males, standing tense and mystified at this interaction. Everyone is dressed in fine clothes and gathered at the River house for family dinner. “I’m confused,” Mor queries again, “Rhys, please tell us what is happening?”

Feyre approaches her mate, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. He turns to look at her. Their eyes locked in a way only a pair of mates could. The two converse internally, and after a moment, Feyre gasps aloud. “A love potion? Rhys, truly?”

“What the fuck?” Cassian chimes in, brows furrowed, attention turning to the ginger male. “Why the fuck would you bring this to us,” Cassian takes a lumbering step towards Lucien. Mor takes a step forward as well, gripping the General's arm, not in the mood to have dinner ruined just yet. “Were you in on it?” Cassian barks to the son of Autumn.

“Cauldron no!” Lucien slinks back a step, eyes glued to his worn leather boots, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room. “I brought it here to show you that Tamlin is desperate - and not above resorting to such vile means.” He clears his throat and looks up to Feyre, a small, apologetic smile on his lips. “I brought this here to warn you that Tamlin will likely try again and that you need to be on your guard.”

It is Mor now, who takes another step forward, rage simmering beneath her skin. “Likely story you prick. I’ll-” she starts, but she is cut off by a hand on her shoulder. The High Lady had made her way over to Mor, now gripping her shoulder with a delicate hand.

“He’s telling the truth,” Feyre concludes. She eyes Rhys, another one of their private discussions taking place within the confines of their own minds. “Lucien showed us.”

“Feyre darling is correct," Rhys sighs, "Our dear friend Lucien here, while foolish - meant well.” the anger in his eyes disperses as Rhys nods a brief thanks to the ginger fae. “Besides,” he ponders, “ this love potion would have no ill effect on our dear High Lady.”

“Now how’d you figure that Rhys?” Mor raises a brow at her cousin.

“Because the High Dunce of Spring still believes I have Feyre under my evil spell.” Rhys wiggles his fingers at his mate, dry humour dancing in his eyes. “You see, the particular love potion good ol Tam picked out is called Affectus Revelare, also known as Feelings Revealed." Rhys gestures at the pitcher. "The potion itself is quite rare and rather ancient even by fae standards, which is why I'm not surprised none of you recognized it. Even you Az.” Rhys nods to the shadow singer in the corner. Azriel, who prides himself on his diverse knowledge of poisons, spells and potions, nods in thanks, upset with himself for not having been able to place the potion immediately.

“I think I've heard of it,” Mor muses, all eyes on her now. “It works to remove inhibition. To allow those who drink it to reveal their true feelings? It is strong, and able to cut through most other potions or spells. Which is probably why Tamlin selected it." Her cousin nods in agreement. She continues, "However, to my knowledge, it went out of favour a long time ago because of the side effects.” She turns back to her cousin and he nods in agreement.

“What side effects?” Cassian asks.

“Think of it as a magic truth serum. However, this truth serum removes any suppression of morals and makes its drinker uncontrollably horny.” Rhys says in a strained voice. “Unstoppably so. The only way to get the urges to dissipate is to have a way with the object of the drinker’s strongest affections.”

The jaws around the room hang low. Cassian lets out a startled cough. Azriel is the first to recover from the uncomfortable silence, his shadows flying around his head as he quickly mutters to them. Some of his shadows disappear into thin air, Mor assumes they are presumably off to keep further tabs on the High Lord of Spring.

“So Tamlin thought what? That I would drink this so-called love potion, break the “evil curse” you’ve trapped me under, again, and then come running back into his arms?” Feyre was full-on laughing now and it was contagious. She wiped her eyes as tears formed as she fought to control her deep belly laugh.

“And right into his bed.”

Rhys slings an arm around Feyre’s shoulder and starts to turn her away from Tamlin’s ‘gift’. He kissed the top of her head, a signature smirk returning to his face. His eyes were clear and bright once again. “All that potion would have done is make you find me even more irresistible than I already am," he coos.

“I don’t know how that could be possible.”

“Oh Feyre darling, please, we have company.” Rhys groans and nuzzles deeply into his High Lady’s neck, laying kiss after kiss along her pulse point. He pulls his lips from her neck with great effort, and only after poor innocent Elain clears her throat uncomfortably. “Let’s bring this up to the House of Wind for now, we can further investigate the source of this potion tomorrow. I would be very interested to find out where Tamlin was able to source such a thing.” He nods to Cassian who scoops up the tray and heads towards the door. “Everyone meet back here for dinner in 10.”

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

-CASSIAN-

“I’ll drop this off, I need to pick up Nes anyways. I’ll be right back.” Cassian walks out the door and spreads his wings wide. With powerful strokes, he is up and into the air. In a few short minutes, he touches down on the stone balcony of the House of Wind. Not a single drop of the potion has spilled, and he smiles triumphantly. Nesta sits at the table, a smutty romance novel gripped in her hands. She looks up at him with a smile but worry quickly crosses her face and her eyes drift to the tray in his hands.

“Don’t worry Nes,” he reassures her. “I didn’t get you anything. This was a gift for your sister, I wouldn’t dream of such a sweeping gesture. I know that you much prefers other methods of celebration,” Cassian says with a wink.

“Who’s it from?” Nesta closes her book, and rises from the table.

“From Tamlin, of all males.” He sets the tray down on the tabletop, the bejewelled challis rattling against the pitcher at the sudden movements.

“A gift? From Tamlin?”

“It’s a long story. Let’s head down to dinner, I’ll tell you on the way.” With that, Cassian scoops his beautiful mate into his arms. Her arms lock around his neck as he shoots off into the sky and back towards the River House. The love potion left on the table to be dealt with tomorrow.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Y/N-

You winnow out of the sky a number of feet above the House of Wind and begin to make the unceremonious crash down to the balcony. You quickly generate a tiny cloud of sparkling night with a single thought to slow your descent.

I am so running late.

You had been away in the Summer Court for three weeks visiting your dear friend, Tarquin. The High Lord of Summer and you had bonded over your shared love of the ocean, gossip and fruity drinks many decades ago. He now invited you every couple of months for a visit to his vacation villa, where you would swim, eat and share the juiciest, most jaw-dropping tidbits from your respective courts. You are the only one of the inner circle ever to be invited. This, of course, made Cassian infinitely jealous.

You loved your visits with the High Lord of Summer. The weight on your shoulders would slip away, even if it was just for a few days and you would both be free of responsibilities. However, this visit had been mostly diplomatic and unfortunately, you had found yourself roped into weeks of dinners and meetings. Working on updating trade agreements between the courts, while important, had been dreadfully boring. So much so that as you had left, Tarquin made the promise that this trip didn’t count and that you would meet up again in two months' time for a redo.

You feel dead tired. What you truly need is a hot bath and good long sleep. But tonight is family dinner and you are excited to see everyone. No work talk, that would wait until tomorrow, but it was rare to have a moment where we were all together, wine flowing and laughs ringing through the River House. You wouldn’t miss it for the world.

You pass into the dining room and drop your large satchel on the table beside one of Nesta's books. Beside her book, sat a pitcher of tea you assumed Nesta had made for herself during her afternoon reading session. You giggle at the rose laid out next to it. Nesta truly was a romantic at heart. You scoop it up and admired the luscious red of the petals. It was just like Nes to indulge herself in the finer things, especially amidst one of her reading frenzies.

You twirled the delicate blossom in your hand and inhale the scent deeply, when suddenly you hiccup in pain. Looking down at your hand you realize one of the thorns had sliced your finger. You quickly drop the flower and bring your finger to your mouth, sucking the coppery drops of blood. The cut is shallow and heals instantly, the tiny pink scar disappearing right under your gaze. With the flower now forgotten, you turn your attention to the tea.

You quickly scan the room, as if Nesta would appear out of thin air at any moment and berate you for taking what wasn’t yours. The thought made you let out a nervous chuckle. If Nes is putting out fancy flowers with her drink, then the tea she selected must be simply divine.

Don’t mind if I do!

You grasp the gaudy bejewelled challis in one hand and picked up the crystal pitcher with the other. You pour yourself a large cup. As the liquid pours from one vessel to another, you can’t help but admire the way it sparkles and shimmers, almost like stardust suspended in liquid - not unlike your own magic.

With a little cheers in the air, you take your first taste.

A low moan erupts from the back of your throat. Never have you tasted anything so divine. Hints of rose and lavender, honeysuckle and almond, rose and hibiscus. But also something deeper, and tangier, a musk of dark earth and fresh rain. It tasted of desire and warmth, of friction and longing. The flavour overwhelms your senses, and becomes all-encompassing.

You take a second small sip. Another groan involuntarily passes your lips.

Then a third and fourth sip, both larger, more eager.

You take a fifth, and down the rest of your cup.

Now, in a frenzy, you refill the challis and drain it all in one gulp.

Again. And again. And again. It is as if you are in a trance, unable to stop yourself, needing to feel the sweet nectar pass your lips, and slide down your throat. The mesmerising liquid burns deliciously as you drink and drink and drink until the pitcher is empty.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. With the pitcher empty, your desire to consume was gone. Your hands shake as you place the challis and pitcher back onto the tray. Your memories of what has just transpired are hazy. In one breath all memory of drinking the tea was gone. In the next breath, you remember it is family dinner. You quickly grab your bag and shuffle up to your room. Throwing the bag into the corner, you turn to the mirror to address your appearance. The dress you don is a light sea foam green, a slit running all the way up to your hip bone, and a low V neckline descending down almost to your navel. As it was currently winter in Velaris, you would need to change into some warmer clothes. As you reach around to unclasp your dress, you are suddenly hit with an intense feeling of warmth. Your face flushes and in the mirror you see sweat form at your temples. It lasts only for a second before your temperature begins to regulates, but it was enough to convince you to stay in the cooler summer garment. I must just be tired.

You head back out to the balcony ready to go meet your family. You leap off the ledge and as you enter a free fall, you sigh in relief, letting the chilled air cool you down as you let out a blissful sigh. You catch yourself on a cloud of starlight, pulling out of your free fall and making your way towards the River House.

You land just outside the border of the River House. As you pass through the boundary and up the front steps you are hit again with another wave of heat. This time it is stronger. You brace yourself on the handrail. Did I spend too much time in the sun? you pondered, thinking back on your time in the Summer Court. You had not spent more time than usual.

I must just be overtired from my long trip. Right as you reach this conclusion, the heat rapidly dissipates, returning your body to normal once again.

There was no further time for contemplation as the front door swung open and Cassian comes into view. "Oh, mighty adventurer,” he mocks with a salute, “welcome home!” He bellows loudly. You jump up the last two steps and he immediately pulls you in for a deep hug. Your face buries into the side of his neck. You had missed him dearly while you were away, but of course, you would never tell him that.

But, what starts as a friendly welcome home, quickly changes course.

Suddenly, the smell of sandalwood and crackling embers surrounds you, invading all of your senses. This was Cassian’s scent, something you smelt daily for 400 years, and have never thought twice about. But now all of a sudden, he is the only thing you want to smell. You huff in his scent and feel your body warm and tingle. What the hell? you cry internally. You know you should pull away. But instead, you have the irresistible urge to lick the thick, long column of his neck, and you nearly do. That’s not the only thing that’s long and thick I want to be licking, you muse, and your core throbs. You have no idea what is happening. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian your mind repeats over and over. Lick him, bite him, claim him. You bite your lips, teeth surely drawing blood. Anything to keep your mouth from latching onto him. You need him. You take a shuddering breath, his scent dancing in your lungs as you-

You’re pulled out of your twisted mind as Cassian adds, “Now, get the fuck inside before you catch your death.”

You quickly pull away from the General and look down. You had forgotten that you were still in your summer attire. An outfit that while gorgeous was not equipped to handle the Velaris winter you were currently experiencing. You risk a glance back up to Cassian, he smiles gesturing inside the house. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice the massive loss of judgement you had just experienced. You do not have feelings for Cassian. That much you know to be true, at least not anymore. Right? You reassure yourself once again that you must just be tired, that your brain was playing tricks.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts as you step through the door. You failed to notice how Cassian’s nose flared as you passed him.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone greats you as you enter the dining room. Luckily, your head seems to remain on straight, as no further desire of Cassian clouds your brain. Your brother and his wife offer you both a quick hug, with the promise to debrief tomorrow, you all take your seat at the dinner table. You have strategically placed yourself as far from Cassian as possible, sandwiched in between Feyre and Mor. You hear the chair across from you slide out and you look up to meet the shadowsinger’s eyes as he slips into the chair. You had not seen him when you arrived. But now you see him - more clearly than ever before.

He offers you a small smile. “How was your visit to Summer, Y/N?”

You don’t hear his question. You are too busy staring at his mouth. Plump lips, tinged slightly red from the cup of wine he’s been sipping out of. His tongue darts out, coating his lips in a glossy sheen. You wonder how those lips would feel against yours… against your breasts… against your core. You blink slowly, noticing his lips are still moving. Oh, the things those lips could do. Suddenly, you feel a hand squeeze your elbow. You yelp and turn to see Feyre grasping your arm.

“Are you alright Y/N?” She frowns softly, concern dancing in her eyes.

“P-perfectly” You mutter, blinking rapidly, looking anywhere but towards the shadowsinger.

“Are you sure? Azriel’s been trying to talk to you for a good minute.”

“J-just tired.” You assure them. “Think I spent too much time in the sun.” You raise your shoulders in a shrug, mumbling.

“I’m relieved to hear you’re not intentionally ignoring me,” Azriel quips trying to meet your eye once again.

“Never.” You say, still not meeting his eye, picking up your wine glass and drinking deeply. “Never.”

And it’s true. Normally, you would never ignore the shadowsinger. You had known him for over 400 years and loved him for 200. Being 80 years younger than your brother Rhys meant that you had grown up with the three of them as your primary moral figures. Rhys was your brother who acted like a father, Cassian your best friend, and Azriel your fiercest protector. And you loved them all for 200 years until something began to change. You had developed a crush on Cassian from an early age. With his broad and muscular chest, and his lushes locks, he sure knew how to make a female swoon. But he was your best friend, and that came first. Your bond with Azriel, now that was even more complicated. He had an uncanny way of being able to see you, to truly see all of you. You loved him as something more, something different than the infatuation you felt with Cass. You yearned for Azriel, and for a time you thought that maybe he desired you too.

But nothing ever came of it. Maybe it was because he had watched you grow up? Or perhaps it was because you were Rhy’s little sister? You didn’t know. But you’ve been a grown female for four mortal life cycles, and both of those excuses didn’t hold any water as far as you were concerned.

After 150 years of you pining away while he pined away for your cousin, you finally thought he was seeing you as you are, the female who could obliterate enemies with a thought, the female who held the court together while Rhys was under the mountain, the female who was not just her brother’s little sister, but an equal.

Then the Archerons arrived.

And you loved them all dearly. Feyre making your brother’s heart sing, Nesta having Cassian wrapped around her little finger, and Elain. Elain, who was a gentle breeze on a warm night. A breath of fresh air amidst the fog. Elain. Who was gorgeous and talented and funny. And while you may have thought those things, so did Azriel. You could only assume as he never did confide in you, but his glances lingered. Yours lingered as well, but more so in appreciation, in lust. Not in love as you suspected the shadowsinger’s did.

And there she was now, sitting beside Azriel, looking perfect as always. Hair smooth and glossy. Eyes big and bright, the richest, most delicious shade of brown you had ever seen. A long slender neck and cleavage that heaved tight against her bodice with each breath, as if her milky flesh was a moment away from bursting-

The sound of breaking glass yanked you out of your lustful thoughts. You looked around for the source of the noise before you realize that it was you. Your wine glass once, in your hand was now in 100 pieces on the floor beside you, a small puddle of red wine at your feet.

“Y/N/N are you alright?” Rhys had made his way towards you in the blink of an eye. He snapped his fingers and the glass, and the puddle of red disappeared. He leaned down to your height, pressing his palm to your forehead. “I think you might have a slight fever.”

“I’m so sorry about the mess, I don’t know where my mind went!” Yes, you do. “ I think I must just be overtired.” You offer a tight smile. “Too much sun.” you offer as an excuse. Yes, too much sun and now you’re a delirious fool.

Rhys only nods fondly, “Maybe you should head to bed kiddo.” You’re so eager to get out of there that you don’t even snark back about him calling you a kid.

“Good idea.” You raise from your chair, and you feel the arousal that had been unknowingly collecting at your core, begin to coat your thighs. You had to get out of there before you were scented. Family dinner nights meant everyone was staying at the River House. Luckily for you, that meant you didn’t have far to go. You turn and hightail it out of there, not noticing how the shadowsinger across from you holds his breath as you scurry away.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you are up the stairs and out of sight, you kick off your shoes and run. You run down the hallway and around the corner to your chambers. You swing open the door and slam it shut behind you. Leaning against the wooden door, you take a shuddering breath. What is wrong with me?

You were no stranger to love and lust. But you had never had quite such a visceral reaction. For so many different fae. At the same time. You are hot all over now and it is as if there is fire in your veins. Your breath is shaky. You need to get a grip. Blinking hard, you make your way to the washroom, and fill the tub with icy cold water.

Your fingers grapple with the claps on the dress, fighting to release yourself. You give up, snapping your fingers, the dress disappearing, leaving you bare, and still burning. You sit at the edge of the tub before quickly sliding your feet below the surface. The shock of the cold hits your brain and for a moment you stop thinking. But it is not enough as you feel another wave of arousal dripping from your core. You know you are going to regret this, but you also don’t know what will happen next if you don’t. You take a deep breath and fully submerge your body. All you feel is cold. Alll you feel is ice. The fire under your skin tames. The lustful thoughts vanish. It is just you and the cold. Relief floods your bones as your face breaks the surface.

You lean your head against the rim of the tub, happy to be rid of your dirtiest thoughts. You lay in the cold water until the warmth of your body has rendered it tepid. You finally feel in control of yourself again. You heave your relaxed body out of the tub and wrap yourself in a fluffy white towel. Tucking the ends under your armpit, you move back into your bed chamber. The towel drops to the floor as you walk up to your wardrobe and pull on a simple silk nightgown, as dark as the night sky, dressing cool to avoid any future heat spells, hopefully.

You hastily scramble into bed and slide under your silk sheets. Exhaustion hitting you. You lay on your back, eyes closed as you slowly drift off to sleep. With not a single thought, your mind is finally quiet.

And then it’s back.

Heart hammering, your eyes fly open. Searing heat spreads through your entire body. Heat radiates from your core all the way to your fingertips. Your desire is bruning you from the inside. The heat wants to be fed, wants to consume.

Wants to be consumed.

Is it that simple? you ask yourself. Would self-pleasure finally rid you of this torment? It had been a few weeks since you had last found release, the time spent in Summer Court kept you too busy for simple pleasure. But it was not like you had not gone this long before, in fact, you had gone much longer and never with any issue. You craved the touch of another, but you suppose your body will hardly care where the pleasure comes from. Your nipples harden at the very thought. Decision made.

Arousal is now weeping from your core as your thighs clench together. As if with minds of their own, your hands pull the sheets off your body, exposing your skin to the night air. Your nipples pebble even harder, straining deliciously against the silk of your nightgown. You palm one of your breasts, the action causing shockwaves of pleasure to roll through your body.

Your other hand comes up and palms the other, a strangled moan leaving your lips. Your fingers dance along your left breast and encircle your nipple over the glossy material of your nightgown. You were still too hot. You quickly pull the straps down your arms. As your nipples meet the cold air, you could weep with joy. Your hands, finally able to touch your bare skin ghost over the sensitive flesh before your fingers are quickly clamping around your left nipple in a tight pinch. Your thighs clench again, as your core pulses, as if with a heartbeat of its own. You give your nipple another delicious twirl.

Your other hand travels down and down and down until it reaches the hem of your nightgown. Without a moment's hesitation, you pull the material up to your waist. Your arousal coats your thighs, as your hand move closer to your core, fingers disappearing between your legs.

The moment your fingers touch your clit, your hips buck wildly, back straining off the bed. Your fingers swirl around it again and again and again, the friction causing strangled moans to escape your throat, hips thrusting up wildly.

Your skin gleams in the moonlight, the heat building inside of you. Your eyes screw shut in pleasure. This time as your hand swirls around your clit, your other hand, still clinging to your breast, gives your nipple a sharp torturous twist. Pleasure and pain unite and suddenly you’re shaking as release barrels through you, your orgasm so intense your whole body shakes as you ride wave after wave of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your body trembles with exertion.

But it is not enough.

Breathing deeply, your hand, now coated in your juices slides back down between your legs, and this time, you slide two fingers inside. You thrust in and out sharply. Setting a torturous pace and your fingers sink deep into your cunt, curling expertly inside you. In a matter of moments, you are overcome with another orgasm. Again and again and again, you work your body to climax.

It is never enough.

Your body gives out sometime between the eighth and tenth orgasm, releasing you into a dreamless sleep.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You awaken groggy, and unsure of your surroundings. The fog clears with a couple of blinks of your eyes and you realize you are in your bed at the River House. Looking down you see you are laid out, your nightgown askew and your thighs sticky.

And then it all comes flooding back.

How you pleasured yourself over and over again, the pace never relenting, just like the hunger for release did not relent. You had fucked yourself into oblivion.

But, it appears to have worked. Laying still you realise that your mind has returned to blissful silence once again. Finally free. No thoughts of lust or desire, just calm and slight confusion. Now more awake, you glance out the window and see that the moon is still high in the sky. It was late, but still a long way off until morning.

Confusion still runs through your bones. The intense need you felt earlier had come on so fast and strong, a hurricane of arousal. But it appears that the skies have now cleared, feeling content and more like yourself you huff and slowly sit up. Your stomach growls painfully, starved from the exertion and the lack of dinner. You could also do with a wash. Food first, you decide.

No one should be out and about the house at this hour, but just in case, you slip the nightgown over your head. The material is coated in your slick. Already ruined, you use the dress to clean up the arousal on your thighs. You refuse to think about how good the silken material feels against your inner thighs. You make your way to your dresser, and this time you pull out a pair of plain grey underwear and a long black t-shirt. The t-shirt fell down to your mid-thigh.

You make your way to the door and pry it open slowly, so as not to wake anyone else. Elain also has a room in this wing, and she was a notoriously light sleeper. You begin to pad down the hallway lightly, the marble cold against your bare feet. You feel a cold breeze wafting down the hall. Someone must have forgotten to close the balcony doors, you think. But then again, who would have opened the windows in the middle of winter? Snow had yet to fall, but the cool winter air had definitely arrived. More alert, you slowly make your way towards the open balcony doors, arms close to your sides, fists clenched.

Your arms lower immediately when you see who stands out on the balcony. You would recognize her shapely figure anywhere.

Elain stands with her back to you. She is wearing a blush-coloured pair of wide-legged pyjama pants,a shawl embroidered with flowers covers her shoulders. Her hair is unbound and glows like individual strands of gold. You feel your stomach tighten. She looks beautiful. You shake your head, trying to rid it of any other thought beyond concern. You gently rap your knuckles on the doorframe. Elain, still not fully tuned in to her new fae senses, jumps and spins around quickly. Her hand comes up to clutch onto her heaving chest. You could see her breath slow when she sees who it is, hand falling back down to her side.

You make eye contact with her, deep chestnut eyes meeting your own. And then her chest starts heaving again, and it takes all your strength to keep your eyes from wandering. You look up at the night sky instead.

“Elain, honey what are you doing out here, you’ll catch your death.” She looks at you nervously as you approach. Your feet tingle in protest at the cold stone beneath you.

“Erm- nothing. I just needed some fresh air,” you reach for her hand. She laces her hand in yours, eyes squeezing shut, “and some quiet.”

“But it is-” oh. Oh no. She had heard you. Your cheeks flush scarlett as you try to pull away. “Elain, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t realize I was so…” You trail off. Her hand tightens around yours, rooting you into place. Her fingers are frigid from being out here on the balcony for Cauldron knows how long.

“Loud.” She finishes your sentence. “The walls are quite thin.”

“I am sorry Elain for disturbing your sleep. I’m not sure what has come over me. It won’t happen again, I promise.” Are you happy with yourself? Poor, delicate Elain was awoken by the sounds of you touching yourself. Poor, gorgeous Elain had to escape outside in order to avoid hearing the sounds you made. Poor, delicious Elain- and oh did she look delicious. She wore a thin white camisole underneath her shawl. She wore no bra underneath, her nipples rock hard from the biting winter air. Oh how much you wanted to devour her.

You freeze again and fight against your mind. Not again. Not now. But it is Elain’s next words that have your lustful thoughts winning once again.

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Elain’s eyes met yours again, darker, more intense. “You, pleasured yourself for over 2 hours, did you know that?” Her sentence tumbled out. “Two hours without stop. Two hours of sheer pleasure.”

“Again, Elain I am so sorry but we should discuss this inside, we’ll catch our deaths out here”. You go to pull her along with you, back into the warmth of the hallway. She releases your hand.

“I never have, you know.” Her voice sounded far away now, mind far away.

“Never what Elain?”

“Never-” She trails off again. You finally catch on, and the fire within your belly reignites.

“Never touched yourself?” She lets out a slight giggle at your question and looks down at her slipper-clad feet.

“No, I’ve definitely tried to self-pleasure.” She shakes her head. “In fact I tried just tonight, listening to you.” It is your cheeks that burn red hot now. You swallow deeply at her confession. Did she touch herself to the sound of you? “But,” she continues, “I’ve never been able to make myself…reach completion. Never. I don’t know if there’s something wrong with me. I want to, gods do I want to. But, it just never happens.” Her voice shakes, and as she looks away again, you can see her eyes shining with tears. “I have been getting a lot closer with Lucien. I do think he is an honourable man.. Male, I mean. But I do not wish to saddle him with a mate who does not know what she is doing. He has lived centuries, and I do not even know how to please myself, never mind him.”

“You do not owe him anything, you know? There is nothing wrong with you, and if he is truly a good male, then he will not be bothered by any experience you do or do not have. There is so much more to a relationship than sex.” She is one of the most perfect creatures in existence. That male should be so very lucky for dirt under her shoes never mind anything else.

“I do know that. I do. But, I think this is something I have to do for myself first. Before I look towards a future with Lucien.”

“What is it you need to do?” You lick your lips.

“I want to feel good like you made yourself feel.”

“Do you want me to make you feel good, Elain?”

“I want you to make me feel alive.”

And then she is vaulting towards you, hands grasping your shoulders, and then her lips are on yours.

She tastes of jasmine and honey. A taste you never thought you would experience. But here she is, this perfect female, and Cauldron she was kissing you. Her plump, rosy lips are soft and firm. Her nails dig gently into your shoulders, and you can now smell her arousal, sharp and heady. Your core clenches in response. Your arms come around and encircle her waist, pulling her body tight against yours. You can feel her nipples against your own chest. She is freezing, and burning all at once.

The kiss ends and she pulls her lips away. Foreheads pressed together she looks at you through her brows. Your eyes meet and understanding passes through you. Your heads give a little nod, and she nods her own in response. Your hand finds hers and you gently pull her over to the corner of the balcony, to a long chaise lounge, the cold forgotten. She sits gently, legs swinging up onto the chaise, head tilting back, exposing the pale tender flesh of her neck. Her shawl falls off her shoulders. You now stand at the edge of the chaise, eying her up and down. You can feel the desire within you trying to surge, to consume. But you reign it in. This is not about you.

It is all about Elain. ”Let me bring you back to life,” you say as you gently spread her legs, and crawl up in between them. You align yourself perfectly, foreheads touching once again. “If anything is too much El, you let me know.” She nods again and tilts her head until her lips meet yours. The second kiss is slower, and more passionate. Her lips part and your tongue slides in, dancing upon hers.

After an eternity you separate, a thin trail of saliva connecting you. You pepper kisses to her cheek, her nose, and her chin, working your way down her throat until you arrive at the place just above her collarbone. Your lips clamp onto the sensitive flesh, and you hear Elain moan in response. It is music to your ears. As you lap at her neck, your fingers begin to trace down the length of her torso, eliciting sighs and pleasure. You run your fingertips gently down the valley between her breasts, down past her navel and along her hip bone, stopping at the hem of her camisole. Your mouth comes away and you make eye contact once again. Elain is in control, and you pause, waiting for her consent to continue.

“Please.” Her breath is coming in quick pants as she begs. Your fingers grab the hem and Elain leans forward and lifts her arms. You make quick work of pulling it over her head, tossing it to the side. Her skin glows like the stars in the sky. Her large breasts are firm and aching to be touched.

Elain’s teeth clench at the exposure to the cold, but the moan that follows is enough to spur you on. Your mouth trails more kisses along her collarbone and down between her breasts. Elain’s hands wind into your hair, holding you close. You look up at her and wink, and then your lips enclose around one of her perfect, pert nipples. Elain lets out a breathy gasp at the sensation of your hot mouth upon her breast. Your tongue swirls around her peak, a chorus of gasps and moans spilling from Elain’s lips.

Your lips detach with a pop, and the cold air blows against the wet bud. Elain lets out another sharp gasp and she cries out “More. Cauldron please, more!” Her chest is heaving. One of your hands comes up and cups her other breast, and you slowly slink down the chaise. Your tongue trails against her skin as it follows the same path your fingers had made, down between her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Your tongue swirls around it, the thin trail of saliva igniting Elain’s skin despite the cold. You continue your path down until your lips reach the hem of her pants. You breathe deeply. “You smell so gods damned good El.” Her hands untangle from your hair and go to grab the hem of your shirt, you quickly stop her. “This isn’t for me El, this is all for you. Let me make you feel good.” Elain nods, briefly and her hands relent, moving up to cup her own breasts instead. You pull the tie on her pants gently and hook your thumbs into the waist. You see a patch of wetness on the crotch of her pants and your question is answered as you gently pull them down her legs. No panties.

Her pants and slippers are now discarded and you take a moment to drink her in. She is exquisite. Her hair lays around her like a halo of gold. Her skin shines as bright as a star. Her hands work her supple breasts and her eyes are lidded and dark with desire. Your eyes skim lower, to her round hips, thick and shapely. And then your eyes fall to the patch of dark curls above her core, and then further still to the glistening arousal coating her thighs as she squeezes them together.

You move up to capture her lips in yours once more before you drift lower again. Your hands grasp her thighs and you gently spread her legs. She is so beautiful. You bend her knees and they part, on either side of your head as your mouth approaches her sex. You blow a gentle breath across her clit, and you see her cunt pulse in response. “Gods, Y/N, please. Please!”

Your hands wrap tighter around her thighs and you taste her. The salty taste of arousal pulls a groan out of your own throat. Your tongue circles her clit, and one of her hands finds your hair again, and her hips buck in response. Her thighs clamp around your head, as you suck her clit hard. You pull her even closer, your tongue travels lower, and traces around her opening, before diving in. Thrusting your tongue in and out of her core, she is moaning your name like a prayer, hips gyrating against your face, fucking your tongue deeper inside of her. She rides your tongue hard, in a state of euphoria.

Breathless, you pull your mouth away and you move back up to her lips. “You taste divine.” You say simply and then your lips are on hers again, and she is moaning from the taste of her own slick upon your tongue. One of your hands smooths gentle circles against her cheek. “Still with me?” you ask. She nods and catches your lips again. Your hand trails down her side, giving her hips a gentle squeeze before drifting through the thick soft curls guarding her core. Your hand slips between her legs as your fingers circle her clit. A new wave of arousal drips from her cunt as your hand moves further down. You hold her gaze as your finger slowly enters her. Her teeth clamp onto her bottom lip and she groans.

You start slow and quickly gain speed as her hips rock against your wrist. Meeting you thrust for thrust. You add a second finger and spread her deliciously. Fingers curl inside her, meeting the spongey flesh that makes Elain scream.

“Oh, oh, gods, yes, yes,” you hear Elain gasp over and over again. You lower yourself back down as your other hand grips her pubic hair tight, your thumb goes to her clit, rubbing at a relentless pace and you watch her come undone.

She screams in such pleasure, again and again, her core clenches around your soaked fingers. Her juices squirt and coat your t-shirt-covered chest. You continue to circle her clit, extending her orgasm as long as possible. She comes down from her high, her pants slowing, and you withdraw your hands. You lean up and capture her lips with yours once more.

“Are you ok?” You ask. Looking into her eyes, you see they are alight with pleasure and joy.

“What does this mean?” Elain worries her bottom lip.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything El. This was about you finding yourself through pleasure.”

“Gods, Y/N that was- that was perfect”. A smile now shines brightly upon her lips. “Thank you-” You cut off her thanks with another quick peck on her lips.

“Do not thank me Elain Archeron. Thank yourself for deciding to put your body and your pleasure first. If anything I should be thanking you for allowing me to come along on this journey with you.” Her smile is mirrored on your own face. “Lucien is going to be a very lucky male, El. You are perfect in every way.”

Sitting up now, she throws her arms around you, squeezing you tight. She pulls away and looks down at the dampness coating your shirt. “I was not aware women- I mean females could do such things.” She traces the dark stain slowly, running her fingers along the slopes of your breast.

“Some do,” you confirm, “if encouraged enough. Everyone is different, and I know that if you decide to, Lucien will worship everything about you.” She smiles again and pulls you in for another hug. You knew that this was not the start of a fling or romance with Elain. But instead, it had been a self-awakening, and she had allowed you to lead her through it. You were beyond honoured to help.

“But how do you know that he- Lucien will like it. Like me.”

“I have a confession of my own El.” You clear your throat, praying to the cauldron you weren’t about to say the wrong thing. “Lucien and I are about the same age. When we were growing up, we met on occasion at different events, and quickly developed a rapport.” Elain quirked a brow. “We, well, we fucked. A lot.” Elain’s jaw drops. Your core clenches at the memories. Lucien’s mouth on yours, on your cunt. His member thrusting in and out of you, sloppiness and uncertainty turned to precision and strength as the years went on. You fight to tamper the flames of arousal within yourself. This is not the time or place. “We were each other's firsts and we experimented over the years. But that was well over three and a half centuries before you were born. It was so long ago that I don’t want you to think anything of it! We are friends now, have been for the last 300 years, nothing more, I promise.” And it was true.. The memories you had made together, were definitely special, cherished, and enough to turn your crank some days, but the actual male, was your friend and was now mated to another. “What I am trying to say, is that I can guarantee that you are everything he will ever desire.”

“Me and Lucien both lost our virginity to the same female?” she questions finally. You nod, eying Elain again. Hoping beyond hope that she does not take the news badly. To your surprise, she begins to chuckle, which turns into a cackle, which turns into a full-body fit of laughter, and you find yourself joining in. You both laugh and laugh while holding each other close. Eventually the fit winds down and with a few last giggles, Elain sighs, “I’m not sure why, but it seems very fitting.” You hum in agreement.

Elain’s eyes drooped in relaxation and exhaustion and she lays her head on your shoulder.

The next moments happen in a blur. You help her to her feet, gather her clothes and you both make the quick, and risky walk back into the hall and into her chambers. Luckily the hallway is empty.

You sit her on the bed and start a fire. Heading to her bathing chamber, you wet a cloth with warm water. Returning to find Elain still perched on the edge of her bed, you gesture for her to lean back. She obliges and you begin to cleanse her skin gently. Nothing save for respect and adoration floats between you now. You tuck her naked body gently under the covers and kiss her forehead. Swiping your thumb against her cheek you whisper softly, “Good night El. Sweet dreams.”

Her eyes crack open and you hear her mumble, “Are you sure you don’t want me to try-”

You shush her. “This was a big moment for you El. I expect nothing in return.” She smiles again deeply.

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for helping me find myself.” With that, Elain drifts off to sleep and you head out the door and back to your own chambers.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back behind the closed door of your room, you stand frozen. The last few hours of your night running through your head. From the moment you arrived at the River House, something was different. You were different. Less… restricted. You’d felt no such feelings while away in the Summer Court. Your mind races, searching for an answer but coming up short.

It was then that your stomach let out a loud growl. You missed dinner. You had been on your way to the kitchen when you encountered Elain. You scoff at yourself and your forgetfulness. You pull the shirt stained with Elain’s juices over your head, letting it join your previously discarded nightgown on the floor. Your panties were damp, but with the way the evening was progressing, you figured you’d end up just soaking another pair later, and opted to keep them on. Strolling over to your wardrobe for the third time tonight, not bothering with another shirt or nightdress, you pull on a simple grey robe. The material is thin but warm, enough to reheat your body after your outdoor escapade.

Feet still bare, you head back out into the hallway and slowly pad down the empty corridor. You make it halfway down the stairs before you hear it.

“Are you going to be a good boy, for me?” a female’s voice floats from the kitchen. You grip the railing and take a fractured breath.

“Yes, my Lady. I promise I’ll be such a good boy.” Your core clenches as you recognize the low gravelly voice. For Cauldon’s sake. You should turn away, head back upstairs and forget the words you had just heard coming from the kitchen. But some unknown force, the same force that had emboldened you all night, urges you forward. Each step has your stomach clenching in anticipation.

Eventually, you arrive at the threshold to the kitchen and your jaw drops.

In the centre of the room sits Cassian, arms tied behind him to the back of his chair. His wings flare lightly to the sides. He is dressed in nothing but a pair of black undershorts. His bare back is to you, muscles rippling as he squirms, testing the limits of his bindings.

On the counter is Nesta. You take in her figure and decide that they do indeed call her the Lady Death for a reason. Nesta lays atop the counter, body barely covered by a tight blood-red nightgown, garters on her thighs and red stilettos on her feet. Her hair is twisted into a crown of braids. She lays on her side, head propped up on her hand. In from of her sits a bowl of strawberries. Her hand dances above the bowl before plucking a strawberry from the pile. She brings it to her lips, tongue darting out to taste the berry. Staring into Cassian’s eyes she takes a bite. You and Cassian gasp in unison.

Nesta’s head jerks in your direction and her steely eyes lock on yours. Caught in your act of voyeurism, you want to look away, look anywhere but at the female, shame should be bubbling through your veins. But it isn’t. You feel no shame. Only desire. Desire spreads through your body, a familiar feeling over the last few hours. Your cunt pulses with every second you stand there, rooted in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of you.

“Who is it Nes?” Cassian questions, trying to gauge his mate’s response to their intruder. You know he could break his binds easily if necessary. Something glimmers in the eldest Archeron’s eyes. Her nostrils flair and her lips quirk in a smirk.

“I’m surprised you can’t smell her yet.” Nesta answers, pushing herself up and into a seated position. You can see Cassian’s back shift as he takes in a deep breath.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. They can smell your arousal.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion,” you have no idea where the sudden confidence has come from and you surprise yourself as you continue, “I seem to have interrupted a late-night snack.”

The two mates lock eyes again, a whole conversation happening without words. Nesta eventually breaks the stare and returns her eyes to yours. “You’re looking a bit peckish yourself Y/N. You’re welcome to join us.” Mother above. “Come,” Nesta holds her half-eaten strawberry out towards you, “come have a bite.” Your gut tightens.

Your feet move before your brain can fully process what you are doing. It takes you 10 steps to pass Cassian, still tied to the chair, and another 3 to reach Nesta’s outstretched fingers. She parts her thighs so that your body can slide in between them. You gasp as her hand comes up to grasp your chin. Your legs tremble as Nesta leans in and whispers, “you are hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starved.” You manage to choke out.

The tension is palpable as Nesta brings her strawberry up to your mouth. She traces the bow of your lips with the strawberries dripping flesh. “Open.” She commands. You do as you’re told and you take a bite of the tender fruit, its juice dancing on your tongue. It is Cassian now who lets out a low groan. In a moment you are flooded with sandalwood and lust as Cassian’s arousal hits your nose, and surges throughout the room, mixing with your own. You finally look over to the Illyrian, and what you see makes you hold your breath. A male who normally exudes strength, the General and Commander of your brother’s armies, Lord of Bloodshed, reduced to a squirming mess. Lust glows in his eyes and he looks from Nesta to you.

“What do you think General?” Cassian squirms again at the use of his title. “I think she is still hungry, don’t you agree?” He lets out a low whine and his hazel eyes lock back on yours, both a reflection of lust and desire.

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asks, voice low. The innuendos vanish as he probes you for further confirmation. He is making sure you are truly consenting to join in on whatever this was. You lied to yourself when you were shocked by your lust for Cassian earlier this evening, as you did in fact find him incredibly attractive, only more so now that he was entirely whipped by the bewitching Lady Death. It took you less than a second to answer him, the desire you had walked hand in hand with all evening flaring within you.

“Yes,” you say.

Nesta’s hand curls more firmly against your chin, turning your head back to hers. “Delectable,” she says. And then her lips are ghosting yours, breath mingling as your eyes flutter shut. You feel her tongue trace the same path of the strawberry, up and around the bow of your lips, and sweeping across the small gape of your mouth.

Your hands instinctively come up to encircle her waist.

Nesta’s lips leave you immediately, and you feel her arm reach down and give you a sharp smack on your ass. The sounds reverberate through the kitchen. You let out a hiss and your eyes fly open. “Unh unh kitten, no touching,” Nesta says, as she pulls your arms back down to your sides “don’t make me punish you.”

You’re pretty sure your eyes roll into the back of your head at her words, and your thighs clench as wave after wave of desire crashes in you. “Yes, my Lady,” you murmur back. You hear Cassian let out another low groan as he shifts in his chair.

“There’s a good kitten,” Nesta smiles, “now why don’t we give the General a little treat.” You hum in response. Nesta spins you around so that your back now falls against her. Your head falls into the crook of her neck as you eye Cassian once again. He looks up at the two of you through hooded eyes. You tilt your head slightly to the side and inhale Nesta’s scent of steel and pomegranate. “I want you to ride his thigh,” she says and the world stops for a moment. You stop breathing and you’re sure that Cassian does the same. Are you really about to do this with your best friend? The step forward you take is answer enough. You’re only another foot away from the Illyrian when Nesta’s voice rings out from behind you again, “Oh, and kitten,” you can hear the smirk in her voice, “drop your panties.”

“Yes, Lady.” You reach under your robe and slowly slide your panties down your legs. You can see the dark patch made by the arousal now coating your thighs. Panties on the floor, the room is awash with a new wave of your potent arousal. Another low growl tears through Cassian’s lips.

Cassian sits with his legs spread. His thighs are thick and muscular, the tanned skin shifting as you approach. Now standing in front of him, you quickly shift so that one of your legs is on either side of his left leg. Using his shoulders for leverage, you slowly lower yourself down onto the General’s thigh. The heat of his leg causes your breath to hitch. Cassian whimpers as the juices from your bare cunt weep onto his leg. You begin to move then, slow torturous gyrations as you get a feel for the large corded muscle beneath you. As your core soaks the General’s leg, you begin to pick up speed, rocking back and forth as the pleasure builds.

“Good girl.” Nesta approaches you from behind. “Isn’t she being such a good Kitten, General?”

“Mhm,” Cassian grunts, “so good.” His breath is coming out in pants, just as forceful as your own.

“And Kitten, isn’t the General being such a good boy?”

“Such a good boy,” you squeak out, your clit rubbing against his muscle.

“I think he deserves a little treat.” From behind you, Nesta reaches between you and Cassian and palms his engorged member, straining painfully in his underwear. Cassian bellows in relief at the touch. Nesta’s fingers dip below the hem of his shorts and pull them down. Cassian’s cock springs free, slapping his stomach. His cock is massive and rock-hard. Long, and girthy with thick veins running along his shaft, his tip a dusky pink. It pulses in time with your ruts against his leg. Your nails dig into the soft flesh of his shoulders as your pupils blow wide with lust. Nesta pumps his shaft once, then again in rapid succession before her hand releases her mate's member. The General whines at the loss of contact, rutting up into the air, desperate for friction, precum gathering at his tip. You don’t dare indulge him without permission from your Lady Death, but your cunt throbs at the thought of punishment.

Nesta’s hands now travel to your body. Her nails graze up your thighs, against your curved hips, and up to your shoulders. She squeezes them gently before her hands travel further, up your neck and into your hair, brushing it all to one side. Her mouth lowers to your neck and she licks a long strip up your sweat-soaked flesh. She hums in delight at the taste, nuzzling the crook of your neck as she whispers into your ear. “Do you like looking at your best friend’s cock, kitten?”

You let out a breathy moan, not able to form any words as you ride the General’s thigh into oblivion. Nesta tuts and her hands grip your hips painfully, stopping the delicious friction. It was your turn to whine in protest, core aching at the loss. “Use your words kitten.”

“Yes.” you whine, as you try to regain momentum. Nesta squeezes your hips harder.

“Yes, what.” Her tone is sharp.

“Yes, Lady.” And then you are free again, hips moving wildly as you chant Yes, Yes, Yes.

“Good kitten.” Lady Death places a kiss at the corner of your mouth. “You’ve seen his. Now it’s your turn to show us yours.” With that, her hands descend between you and the General once again, travelling to the tie at your waist. With a sharp tug, the rope comes loose, and your robe opens. Your nipples harden at the exposure.

Cassian groans and the tip of his cock weeps at the sight. Your breasts rock back and forth in time with your thrusts. Cassian pulls on his restraints, desperate to touch them, to touch you. “Please.” He moans. The General bucks into the air again and again, “Please, Please Lady, Please”.

Your hips gyrate faster, and you feel your release approaching. Nesta, still behind you, leans down and bites the lobe of your ear. “Come for me, kitten.”

And then you are toppling over the edge. Your orgasm rips through you and you scream in delight. The General is right behind you, wings flaring and release thundering as he cums all over your chest. Your hips do not slow as you ride out every wave of pleasure. The three of you were so lost in the moment you had not heard the approaching footsteps.

“What the Fuck is this?”

Your hips still, and from your position on Cassian’s lap, you open your eyes gaze dragging over the tips of his wings and to the doorway.

And there stands Azriel, shadows swarming around him in a frenzy.

“Az.” you croak, voice horse from screaming. The look of astonishment and anger in his eyes have you trying to stand up, to go to him and try to explain, but Nesta keeps a firm pressure on your shoulders, keeping you astride her mate. Confusion runs through you as you look up to meet her eyes, and youquickly understand her actions.

Cassian’s wings currently shielded your naked body, now dripping in his cum from Azriel’s view. As if in understanding, Cassian’s wings flare a little wider, ensuring full coverage of his mate and yourself.

“Brother,” Cassian replies, trying to keep the fucked out tone from his voice, “I do believe you’ve caught us at a bad time.”

“Y/N? What sort of sick-, Why would you-, You know I-, Y/N, really Cass?” Azriel tries to form a coherent sentence.

It’s Nesta that responds. “She is not your property, shadowsinger. You do not own her.”

“You took advantage of h-” Azriel roars.

You roar right back.

“I wanted this Azriel! I wanted this with every fibre of my being. All three of us chose to be here. Nesta is right, you do not own me. We are three consenting adults. The only one who has no right to be here right now is you.” Your gaze pierces his, and you can see the hurt on his face. “Now, get out,” you spit, and he disappears into his shadows without another word.

With the shadowsinger gone, Cassian’s wings lower, and your head falls to rest on his sweaty chest. "Well, fuck me." Cassian grunts, his nose burying into your hair. You feel his chest rise and fall, the powerful thumps of his heart slowing with your own.

“I believe she just did, my dear mate.” Nesta muses, she slinks around the pair of you, coming up behind Cassian, and resting her head on his other shoulder. Your mixed arousal hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the dalliance that had played out in the kitchen of the River House.

You want more. You want to feel Cass’s lips upon your own. You want to lick the sweat down his pectorals and taste the cum that was now pooling between your breasts. You wanted to feast upon Lady Death herself, and to have her feast upon you, to feel her sharp tongue against your cunt. This new development in your relationship felt natural. It felt right. You wanted to spend hours exploring the line between pleasure and pain, exhilaration and humiliation, domination and submission. You want more, and you can see in their eyes that they want more too.

But the tone has shifted, and you have Azriel to thank for that.

You sit up straight and push your wobbly legs up into a standing position. Cassian hisses as the air blows across the cooling slick left behind on his thigh. “Y/N,” he mumbles, “that was-”

“Incredible,” you finish for him, “that was pretty damn incredible.” You pull your robe closed and retie the stay at your waist. Nesta leans down and unties the bindings on her mate's wrists, he too rises to a standing position, retucking his spent cock into his underwear. Nesta slides her arm through his and the mates regard you appreciatively.

“I hope you don’t-”, Nesta trails off, words like glue in her mouth, “have any regrets?”

“Never,” you confirm. “My only regret is that we were interrupted.” You stare at the small smile that replaces the concern on Nesta’s features. You lean up and give them both a kiss on the cheek. “Good night my Lady. Good night General”. You stand back and give them a wink, “Let’s do this again soon, yeah?”

Come daylight, there would likely be some serious conversations to be had. But that could wait. For now, you turn on your heels and make your way back to the stairs.

“We’ll see you soon, kitten.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Azriel-

Azriel winnows himself out into the estate gardens. His mind races and his shadows swarm, blocking out the light of the moon. His scarred hands are shaking, and with horror, rage or sadness he is unsure.

Cassian and Nesta… and Y/N?

He is baffled by what he saw transpiring in the kitchen.

He had been out on an after-dinner patrol and had arrived late into the night. He was used to the carnal activities of his brother and his mate and was keen on ignoring their sounds of pleasure when an unfamiliar cry of indulgence had piqued his interest. A third? he had wondered. But as his morbid curiosity had propelled him forward, he had realized that the new voice was not unfamiliar in the slightest. It was the voice of all his desire. The voice that had lived in his mind and in his dreams for the last 250 years. He reached the threshold to the kitchen and his worst nightmare was confirmed.

There had sat Cassian with his back to him, hands tied to the chair behind him. Nesta stood in front of him, a devilish grin on her face as she watched the events unfold. And there, saddled between the two, was Y/N. Her eyes closed, she violently rocked back and forth atop Cassian. He could not see what was happening in its entirety from behind his brother’s wings, but he could smell the heady scent of arousal oozing from every pore of the trios' bodies.

Azriel had watched Nesta lean over and whisper something in Y/N’s ear.

And then Y/N and Cassian were coming undone. Azriel stood, unable to move as he watched the female he loved, cum atop his brother. He couldn’t take it.

“What the Fuck is this?” The question tore out of his throat before he could stop it.

And then you had opened your eyes and whispered his name, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would have been like to be in Cassian’s place. To have felt you come undone for him…on him…with him.

But she hadn’t been with him. Y/N had chosen his brother and his brother’s mate of all the Fae in the Gods damned Court. He could not recollect the words he had spoken after that, anger and despair had blinded him. He was going to be sick.

He shoots up into the sky and heads to the House of Wind. He needs to be away from them all so that he doesn’t do anything else he would regret. His wings flap hard and fast, the cold air slicing against their membranes painfully. Good, he thinks to himself. He lands on the balcony at the House of Wind too soon, and he drops hard onto the marble floor. He needs to hit something so that he doesn’t hit his brother in the face.

Azriel stalks his way through the dining room with the intent of heading up to the sparring ring, when a shadow curls around his ear. Stop, it whispers, not right. The table. Azriel whirls back around and surveys his surroundings. His eyes narrow in on the table. On the table sits a book, likely left by Nesta, and the tray Lucien brought. The tray that holds the love potion. Correction, the tray that held the love potion. Azriel seizes the pitcher off of the tray. Empty. His mind races once again. Who would have taken it? Why not take the whole tray, the pitcher at the very least? Maybe, Cerrdiwen or Nuala dumped it out? No, they haven’t been up here today. Azriel has no idea what is going on.

His nose twitches as it perceives a faint scent. He turns back to the tray inspecting it closely. The jug and challis were bone dry, with not a drop of the elixir left. The note was long gone, burned to ash by his brother upon Lucien’s arrival earlier this evening. He turns his eyes then to the rose. The rose, which upon further inspection housed thorns coated in a thin layer of dried blood.

Y/N’s blood.

Y/N who was been at the Summer Court until right before dinner,

Y/N who had missed the discussion about the contents of the pitcher,

Y/N who had likely stopped by the House of Wind to drop off her bags before joining the family at dinner.

Y/N, who he had just been riding Cassian into oblivion.

“Fuck.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-Y/N-

You once again find yourself leaning against your bedroom door.

“What the glorious fuck was that?” you ask aloud, letting out a nervous chuckle. You had just participated in a three-sum with your best friend and his mate. Your best friend and his mate. Cassian and Nesta. The General and his Lady Death.

The names alone make you shiver.

The memory of your core ground against Cassian’s well-muscled thigh, Nesta whispering sin in your ear makes you clench your teeth, and your thighs. You let out a frustrated moan. This lustful hunger just won’t LEAVE, and the chance of further ministrations was halted by that winged fuck, Azriel. Azriel, whose eyes you had held as you road out your climax. Azriel, who had looked devastated as he saw you astride his brother. Had he been devastated? You wondered, or disappointed.

He has no right to be disappointed in anything that you do. He held no claim to your body, or to your heart. Well, he held no claim to your body and if he had known about the space he occupied in your heart, after all this time, and still had not acted upon it, well then he did not deserve even a sliver of the adoration you felt. Let him be disappointed, it was none of your concern.

He was none of your concern. Not his thoughts of your activities, nor his distaste for your actions. His glowing eyes did not deserve to behold you. His plush lips did not deserve to taste you. His rough fingers did not deserve to slip below the waistline of your panties, and-

Another frustrated groan tears through your throat as your knees quake, thighs snapping together, desperate for friction. You push off the door with a huff, walking towards your bathroom. You need to wash Cassian’s seed off of your body. You undo the tie at your waist and allow the now cum stained garment to join the others on the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember that you had had panties on when you entered the kitchen. You can only hope that Nes and Cass had grabbed them during clean-up.

You draw yourself another ice-cold bath and submerge yourself fully. The cold water distracts your mind as you scrub your body and hair. Once you are thoroughly cleansed, you step out of the tub, wrap yourself in a fresh towel and you make your way back to your damn wardrobe. You pray to the Cauldron that this is your last outfit change of the night. You pull out a blue pyjama set with tight but pliant shorts and a cropped camisole. Not bothering with undergarments you quickly pull your clothes on and flop onto the bed.

You pull the covers up to your chin, mind blissfully blank from the cold bath… Until those glowing hazel eyes and sensuous lips hurtle around the walls of your mind. You think of his toned chest, glistening with sweat in the sparring ring, the curve of his wings as he holds himself with deadly precision. His intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar is almost upon your tongue as you imagine what it would be like for the shadowsinger to interrogate you like one of his prisoners. Cauldron boil me. Your hand travels to the hem of your shorts, and then lower still to your already slick slit. Your fingers easily find your swollen clit, and begin to swirl around it delectably. Your other hand comes up to palm your breast, when suddenly you hear a knock at your door.

Your fingers still.

You don’t answer, hoping that the nuisance will get the hint. You hear another sharp knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Y/N, please let me in. It’s important.” The slight rise in his tone, has you muttering a quick ‘enter’. The door swings open and the shadowsinger slinks in, a fae light bobbing behind him.

His nose is immediately overwhelmed with scent. The heady scent of your arousal was emanating from every surface in the room. It was intoxicating the spymaster, your scent driving him to the edge of his wits.

An edge he is quickly pulled back from as he smells his brother’s scent intermingling, as well as the scent of another, Elain. He eyes the pile of soiled clothing on the floor, the evidence that confirms his suspicions. “Gods, Y/N.” He clears his throat. “I know you were not feeling yourself tonight, but-” he starts. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Incorrect shadowsinger,” you stare at him, “I feel more myself than I ever have. Just more-”

“Free of inhibition?” he supplies.

“Suppose I was. What concern is it of yours?” Your lips purse.

“I figured you deserve to know what was happening.” Azriel moves to your bed, sitting on the edge. He reaches into the pocket of his leathers and produces a single crumpled red rose. All of a sudden forgotten memory floods your mind. A pitcher full of plum-coloured starlight. The burn of it on your lips, down your throat. You remember drinking and drinking until there was nothing left. The urge you felt to drink, warped and resurged as the desire for Elain, for Cassian and Nesta, and for Azriel. Your hand twitches at the thought, fingers still primed over your clit.

“So what was that mystery beverage, you all so lovingly forgot to label?”

Azriel snorts before replying, “Affectus Revelare.”

“No shit?” Bewilderment shines in your eyes.

“It’s a love potion of sorts-”

“I’m well aware of its side effects.” And you were, having heard stories of its potency from your brother. “I had just never seen it in person.”

Azriel huffs, trying hard to keep his face void of emotion. “I’d assume then that you know that any intense feelings of pleasure you acted upon while under its influence, were no fault of your own.”

“Let me make one thing absolutely clear, Azriel.” Your voice cut like glass, eyes as sharp as steel. “Anything I did tonight, I did because I wanted to. The bullshit spell does nothing but bring to the surface feelings I already have. I have no regrets about what I have done or will do tonight.” Azriel looks as though he is swallowing a mouthful of marbles.

“Right,” he hastily stands, “I suppose now that you are feeling…better, I should probably let you get some sleep.” He treads to the door, head low, shadows tight against his silhouette.

You should let him go, let you both stew overnight, and then try talking again. It is the smart thing to do. In spite of that, you curse your horny mouth as it opens and words fly out, “Who says I’m feeling better?”

He freezes two paces from the door. Whipping around to face you again, his eyes are alight with panic. You pull your stilled hand out of your shorts and sit up. The blanket pools at your waist, your puckered nipples on full display from underneath your shirt. Your hand, still coated in your slick shines under the fae light. He looks from your face to your chest, to your sex-slicked hand and back again. He blinks and his nostrils flare, likely scenting the new wave of arousal that was coursing through your veins.

In a flash he is back at your bedside, the back of his hand coming up and resting on your forehead. He is mumbling to himself. Cauldron, he’s having more mood swings than I am. “Care to share what the Hell you’re doing Azriel?”

“It must have been laced with something else,” he grimaces, “another tonic or elixir maybe. Something to increase potency,” he swallows. “Did you… finish when you were in the kitchen?”

“You were there, Az… You saw me… You know I did.”

“Well, it’s not a matter of your partner reaching completion. If Elain and Cassian both-”

You were unnerved that he knew about Elain as well. “Az, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Maybe you need to, erm, try again? Or perhaps, it is Nesta and not Cassian you truly desire? Perhaps if you-”

“Azriel. Stop with your nonsense ramblings.”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand! Something must be wrong. Your desires should be satiated by now. Once you bedded the true object of your affection, the potion was supposed to wear off.” His eyes met yours, and you could see that his mind was running a mile a minute. He was still upset, but now concern sat at the front of his mind.

“I assume you tried with Elain first, and when that didn’t relieve your symptoms, you finally gave in to your basal instincts and realized it was Cassian, not Elain you truly desired.” Anger clouded your vision as he continues to spew utter garbage. “But you should be feeling better after your session in the kitchen. I should wake Rhys, perhaps he-”

You vault up to a kneeling position, shoving him with both hands. He staggers back a step.

“The hell you will! Do. Not. Wake my brother. What would be your plan for that anyways? ‘Oh Rhys, wake up! Your sister can’t stop fucking the other members of your Court! Oh please Rhys, come and get your little sister under control before she gets her horny over us all’ Ya, great plan Az.” Your eyes are burning with rage now, and your cunt pulses with a heartbeat of its own. You were yelling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. “Even so, everything I did tonight was something everyone involved consented to. There was no primal urge forcing me to finger fuck myself for hours, to fuck Elain, to ride Cassian. It was me. I wanted those things, and they wanted them too. And it was beautiful and passionate, and intense. I desired them all, hell I still do.” You take a deep breath. “But, did you, even for one second use your tiny brain to think that maybe Elain or Cassian or Nesta aren’t the dominant object of my affection? You stupid Illyrian brute.”

“Who’s left Y/N? Who? Who could it possibly be? Amren? Lucien?” Azriel’s hands fist into the blankets on your bed, his shadows flying, his words disjointed as his mind can’t stop racing. He doesn't notice that he too is now yelling. “Oh, it’s Lucien, isn’t it? I know you used to fuck but come on-”

“IT'S YOU, YOU INSOLENT ASSHOLE.”

Time stops as you watch the shadowsinger’s mask crack. You see a hundred different emotions ripple across his face, joy, wonder, thrill and love? But then you also see, confusion, anger, jealousy, betrayal, sorrow, and disgust. “Y/N,” he whispers, voice horse and cracked, “Y/N, you don’t want me- you can’t want me.”

“For Cauldron’s sake Azriel, I have loved you for the last two centuries! I wept and pined for you as you obsessed over Mor, and then I agonized over you as your affection turned to Elain. Not that I can blame you-”

“I have no interest in Elain.” He declares, eyes locked on yours. “I never did.”

“Bullshit.” You snort, “I’ve seen the way you stare at her, the way you follow her around-”

“I stared because you stared, Y/N. I followed because you followed. Elain is lovely, but it was you, not I, who obviously fell for her charms.”

You are at a loss for words now. Your jaw twitches. What does this mean? He wasn’t watching Elain. He doesn’t love Elain. Your entire body felt aflame. Sweat was gathering at the base of your neck leaving your hair damp. You wanted to combust, thigh trembling at this admission. Your nipples are taut, pressing tightly against your top. Your breath is shaky, “What are you telling me Azriel?”

“I-I, okay look,” Azriel grinds his teeth, “It doesn’t matter. What I’m telling you is that you are mistaken. It is not me you want.” He takes a step closer to you, his knees grazing the edge of your bed.

“Oh, I’m mistaken?” You lift yourself higher on your knees, edging closer to the Illyrian in front of you.

“Yes.”

You can feel his breath on your face.

“Then prove it.”

His lips crash down onto yours. The kiss is hard and rough, but his lips are as soft as velvet. His hands are at your waist, and he is pulling you up until you are flush with his chest. You gasp, and Azriel’s tongue surges forward into your open mouth, dominating your tongue with his own. Your hands snake up to his hair and pull hard at his black curls, bringing his body even closer to yours.

You pull both of your bodies back towards the bed, lips never separating. You work to unfasten his leathers, as you do. Agile fingers make quick work, and soon his chest is bare and heaving, his tattoos stark against his skin under the fae light. Tiny scars dance across his torso as his muscles ripple, and he pulls you to the head of the bed. He kneels above you now, one knee between your legs, hands resting on either side of your head as he braces himself. He begins to pull away from the kiss, so you nip his lip, a shrill whine leaving your throat. A bead of bright red blood wells on his lip. His eyes open, and you see that his pupils are blown wide. He watches your tongue dart out to lick the crimson ichor. His mouth clashes with yours once again, his body pinning you to the bed, as the coppery tang of blood mixes in your mouths. The elixir in your veins sings at the taste of his blood. Him. The very taste you craved.

You roll your hips against him and you can feel the bulge in his pants. Azriel growls, and he brings a hand down to your hips to halt your movements. His hand then travels up your body, leaving a burning trail up to the edge of your shirt. His hand stills for but a moment and you lift your back off of the bed in answer. Your lips separate once more as his hands pull the thin material up and over your head. He beholds your naked flesh as if he were a male damned to the gallows. As if you would be the last sight he sees. You hear him mutter under his breath, a plea or a prayer, but you can’t quite make it out.

“Az.”

He unleashes himself on you.

His lips devour yours, a battle of teeth and tongues. His mouth moves down your neck, leaving hard wet kisses in his wake. He reaches the crook of your neck, mouth suckling your skin. His teeth brush the bruise that is forming there. And then he is clamping his teeth into your flesh. The force of the bite makes your body tremble. The sharp pain causes a scream to rip through your lungs, your hands fly up to grasp his shoulder blades, your nails shredding against his skin. The pain fades to a deep throb, pulsing in time with your needy cunt.

Your neck stings as his mouth pulls away. He offers you a smirk and you can see your blood in his mouth. He’s on you again, lips trailing down your collarbone to the valley between your breasts. His tongue trails lazy strokes against your dewy flesh before his lips clamp around one of your pert nipples. He groans at the taste of your flesh, his tongue flicking against it. You let out a shriek of ecstasy, your hips bucking up against his groin. You thrust against him, desperate for friction. His hand gives your other breast a rough squeeze in response.

“Please Az. I need you.” You were gasping the words, stuttering with every hard suck, “I need you inside me. Now.”

His lips leave your breast with a diabolical pop. “Patience, little one.” A small smile graces his lips, “Not until I’ve tasted your sweet cunt.”

The weight of his body leaves you, but before you can question him, you feel two strong hands clamp around your ankles, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Azriel’s thumbs hook into the waistband of your shorts, and they quickly join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

You lay completely bare before him. He spreads your legs, and he falls to his knees, eyes in line with your dripping cunt. Your arousal has seeped down your thighs and to the bedsheets below. He utters your name in worship as he lowers his mouth to your core.

He feasts like a man starved, drowning in your arousal as your thighs clamp around his head, your core pulsing with the need to be filled. His tongue flicks against your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through you. His scarred hands clamp around your thighs as he pulls you impossibly closer. His tongue thrusts into your hole and you see white. You are so close to the edge, so close to climax.

“Az-. Az! Please, Please Cauldron, please. I’m close.” You’re moaning, pulling at his hair to make him look up at you. “Please, I want to cum with your inside me.”

His fingers lessen their grip, and his mouth leave your sex. His lips are glistening with your juices, as his hands travel to the buckles at his thigh, removing the sheath containing Truth-Teller, next he works the ties of his boots and pants, both are quickly discarded. With a tug of his undershorts, the Spymaster of the Night Court stands before you in all of his glory, and he is magnificent.

His cock throbs against his stomach as he watches you watch him. He fists his rock-hard length and he looks at you with a question burning in his eyes, giving you a chance to turn him away. But you need him, you burn for him.

“I need you inside of me Azriel.” You can feel the head of his cock brush against your folds, your head falling back and you whine at the contact, “Fuck me. Gods fuck me.” His cock rubs against your sex a few more times, your slick lubricating his length, and then he is slowly pushing inside of you.

Your cunt stretches, and you’re not sure if you’re moaning in pain or in rapturous pleasure. He stills for a moment, halfway inside you, letting your body acclimate to his thick member. He leans down and leaves a chaste kiss against your lips.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low, strained with the effort to remain still.

“Yes.”

He pulls his cock out all the way out, and with a buck of his hips, completely sheaths himself inside of you. Again and again, his hips slam against yours, cock pistoning in and out of you. His cock fills you completely, your cunt stretched as far as it can, and each vein along his shaft rubs deliciously against you. The tip of his cock brushes against your spongey tissue and you whail in bliss.

“Harder.”

He complies, his hips fracturing against your pelvis, driving him further inside of you. Your hands reach around and grab his ass, driving him even deeper. The fae lights are flickering in and out, the bed is shaking, cracking against the wall, and you are screaming, and screaming, insane from the pleasure.

You plummet over the edge, wailing his name as your orgasm cleaves you in two.

Azriel follows you over the cliff, his wings flare wide, and he lets out a roar as his thick cum paints your insides. His pace begins to slow as he continues to thrust in and out, prolonging your pleasure. He stills inside of you but doesn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to fully unsheath himself, savouring the feeling of you around him.

“Y/N…” his voice is hoarse. He starts to pull away, but you just lean in and capture his lips with another kiss.

“Let’s talk about what this means later Az. For now,” your eyes shine bright in the moonlight and it takes his breath away, “for now, can you just hold me?” He nods and swallows hard. Shimming up to the head of the bed, you both slide under your covers, he tucks you into his side, arm draped around your waist. Your head rests on his chest, and you breathe in the scent of his sweat and musk.

You can feel his come slowly trickle down your leg.

You feel complete and satiated. The roar in your veins from the potion has gone, left in its place was love. Your eyes feel heavy and you begin to drift off to sleep. “Told you so,” you mumble. You’re fast asleep now, and miss the look of regret that crosses the Shadowsingers face.

Hours later you awaken to an empty bed.

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