#I haven’t even read beat sheet

[squirreljc2]

Beat sheet Sam and Charlie send this to dean

[floreuce]

wait i’m sorry i mixed beat sheet up with that other thing people were tagging this with 😭 i’ve never read beat sheet i thought this was the tag for that weird mcyt/dsmp whatever twitter thread fic this kept getting tagged with because that was insane. supernatural fans you can stay i guess

college? like the fanfiction au?

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[aelinad]

The Missing Track - Min Yoongi One-Shot

Pairing: !Idol Yoongi x ! producer f. reader

Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! 🔞

Word count: ~ 30k

Summary: Suga of BTS is on the edge, racing against the clock to finish his solo album. With just three songs left to complete and a looming deadline, he's struggling to find inspiration. In a last-minute move, his company pairs him with the highly secretive Producer K, a renowned but elusive figure in the music industry. Everyone assumes Producer K is a male, but when Suga meets the mysterious producer, he's shocked to discover that K is actually a talented and confident woman. As they collaborate, the line between professional and personal begins to blur. Their chemistry is undeniable, but with a ticking clock and the pressure to deliver, can they finish the album on time? Or will their growing connection derail everything they've worked for? Secrets, passion, and music. Can Suga keep his focus, or will Producer K. change everything?

!! Warnings !!: vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex, slow burn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, jealousy

A/N: I miss these two already!! 🥺 This story was highly influenced by me having Yoongi's SDL and Reed Wonder's The machine on repeat. Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! Let me know your thoughts 💕.

Love the story? ☕ Support me on Ko-fi! 💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The soft hum of equipment filled the studio, punctuated by the click-clack of Yoongi's keyboard. His desk was a mess of coffee cups, scribbled notes, and sheet music—proof of hours spent chasing inspiration that eluded him.

"Hyung," a staff member, Jihoon, said cautiously, standing near the doorway. "I think we need to talk about your album. Specifically, the last tracks you’re stuck on."

Yoongi swivelled his chair, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not stuck," he said sharply. "I just need time."

"You have three months before the release date," Jihoon reminded him. "And right now, three of the songs don’t have melodies. You’ve been staring at the lyrics for weeks."

Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I’m working on it."

Jihoon hesitated, holding back a smirk. "The team suggested bringing in another producer."

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. "I don’t need help. This is my album. I’ve handled everything myself before, haven’t I?"

"This time, we’re short on time," Jihoon countered. "And we’re talking about Prod. K. He’s incredible! The guy with the minimalist beats and genre-blending compositions. Even you’ve praised his work."

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I praised the music, not the person. And I don’t work with strangers, especially ones I’ve never even met."

"It’s non-negotiable, hyung." Jihoon sighed. "The higher-ups already agreed. We’re bringing him in to collaborate."

"Bringing him in?" Yoongi repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "I’ve never even seen his face. For all I know, he could be some arrogant newbie."

Jihoon smirked, his gaze flickering with amusement Yoongi didn’t appreciate. "Lets not judge, just wait until you meet him."

Yoongi grumbled, turning back to his monitor. "Fine. But don’t expect me to make this easy for him. And when he leaves because I’m too ‘difficult,’ you can tell the higher-ups they were wrong."

~~ Y/N POV ~~ "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed, pacing the small office where my team had dropped the bombshell of the century. "To collaborate with Suga of BTS in person? Sure, it’s an honor, but that’s a no from me. If my identity gets leaked, the fact that I’m a woman, working with him in some tiny studio, any sasaeng will have me on their hit list before I even step out the door."

My manager, Minji, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but eyes pleading. "Y/N, listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His songs are streamed millions of times. You can’t just brush this off."

"I’m not brushing it off," I shot back. "I respect his work, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not willing to risk it. There are plenty of artists who would kill to have me on their projects just by sending them my demo, and they’re happy to communicate with me online without ever knowing who I am. Why him? Why now? Why like this?"

Minji sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It’s not just about you. The label needs this. We’re in a tight spot financially, and this contract is massive. Do you know how much they’re offering?"

I didn’t want to hear the number. Money had never been my motivator, but the way Minji’s face softened told me it was enough to make a difference, not just for me but for my entire team. I groaned, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms. "Why can’t anyone hear my opinion? I don’t want to do this. I’m not just some faceless entity, you know."

"You’re not," Minji said gently. "But you also know how much this could elevate your career. Three songs, Y/N. That’s all they’re asking for. Just three."

Her words echoed in my head, the weight of them pulling me in two directions. Logic screamed to take the job, but fear—fear of exposure, of judgment—held me back.

"Fine," I said finally, hating how small my voice sounded. "I’ll think about it."

*** That night, I found myself on an unintentional deep dive into Min Yoongi’s a.k.a SUGA a.k.a AGUST D world. It started innocently enough: a quick search to refresh my memory of his discography. But then one song led to another, and another, until I was buried in hours of music he’d produced, lyrics he’d written, and performances that made me forget why I was so hesitant in the first place. Scrolling through fan edits and live clips, I couldn’t help but be charmed. There was a reason people adored him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet charisma that seeped through the screen. His easy confidence, the way he handled himself on stage and in interviews, was magnetic.

"Focus," I muttered to myself, shaking off the distraction. But the deeper I went into his work, the harder it was to ignore his genius.

His music was haunting, intricate, and raw. The kind of art that pulled you into someone’s soul, no matter how much they tried to hide. I couldn’t help but wonder how someone with this much expertise got stuck?

By the time dawn broke, I called Minji. "Minji," I said the moment she answered, her voice still groggy. "I’ll do it."

"Wait, what? You’re serious?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, but on one condition."

"Name it."

"No one finds out who I am. If my identity leaks, I’m out."

Minji exhaled sharply. "We’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the higher-ups and confirm everything. Thank you, Y/N. This is the right decision."

I wasn’t sure if it was the right decision, but it was the one I’d made. The next couple of days blurred into a whirlwind of paperwork. Contracts, NDAs, and endless signatures filled my time, the reality of the collaboration sinking in more and more with each passing document. Ironically, a small part of me hoped that Min Yoongi would refuse to sign the NDA. Maybe he’d see the clause about not sharing my identity, find it too ridiculous, and decide the collaboration wasn’t worth it.

But no.

He signed it.

When Minji told me, I stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "He signed it?"

"Yeah," she said, looking just as surprised. "No arguments, no complaints. Honestly, I thought he’d push back, but he didn’t."

I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This guy… He’s full of surprises."

"Don’t get your hopes up," Minji warned. "Just because he signed doesn’t mean this will be smooth sailing."

"I know," I muttered. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder. How different was the man behind the screen, the one whose music I’d admired for a while, from the person I was about to meet?

*** A few days later, everything was finalized. Minji and I were contacted by Jihoon, one of the team members who worked closely with Suga.

"He’s coming to pick us up personally?" I asked Minji, eyebrows raised as I adjusted my headphones around my neck.

"Apparently," Minji replied, glancing at her phone. "Guess he wants to make sure we actually show up."

When Jihoon arrived, he was younger than I expected, his energy warm and casual. He greeted Minji with a polite bow and a bright smile, then turned to me. For a moment, his expression faltered, his eyes darting behind me like he was waiting for someone else to appear.

"Uh… Hi," he said, looking between Minji and me. "You’re both here for Suga, right?"

"Yes," Minji answered smoothly. "This is K." She gestured toward me.

Jihoon blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait… You’re Producer K?"

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That’s me."

"You’re kidding," he said, then immediately looked apologetic. "I mean, sorry, I just—uh—"

"You were expecting someone else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Kind of, yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "No offense, but I thought you’d be, you know…"

"A guy," I finished for him, crossing my arms.

He laughed awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I mean, your music has this… vibe. It’s not what I’d expect from—" He cut himself off again, realizing he wasn’t helping.

"From a woman?" I challenged, though there was no malice in my tone.

"Not what I meant!" Jihoon exclaimed, waving his hands. "It’s just…forget it. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you."

Minji chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry. She gets that a lot."

I didn’t hold it against him. The entire point of my stage name was to avoid this kind of reaction, but moments like these reminded me why I kept my identity under wraps. Jihoon composed himself quickly and gestured toward the sleek black van parked nearby. "Anyway, let’s get going. Suga’s waiting for us at HYBE."

*** The drive to HYBE was surprisingly pleasant. Jihoon was chatty, making an effort to ease the awkwardness of our initial interaction.

"So," he began, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror, "I’m curious. How long have you been producing?"

"About six years," I replied.

"Wow, and you’re already working with Suga," he said, genuinely impressed. "That’s not something just anyone gets to do."

"I’m aware," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "It’s a privilege."

He nodded. "Have you been a fan of his music for a while?"

I hesitated. "I respect his work. He’s incredibly talented."

Jihoon grinned knowingly. "You’re downplaying it, huh? That’s fine. Most people get nervous meeting him for the first time. Don’t worry, he’s actually a lot nicer than people think."

Minji let out a quiet laugh beside me. "I don’t think nervousness is the issue here."

Jihoon glanced between us, confused but wisely decided not to press further.

*** Pulling up to HYBE’s towering building was intimidating, to say the least. I’d seen pictures online, of course, but being there in person was a different experience.

"Here we are," Jihoon announced as he parked the van.

As we stepped out, I adjusted my hoodie, making sure it covered my face as much as possible. Even with the NDA in place, I couldn’t shake the paranoia of being recognized. Jihoon led us through the back entrance, avoiding the main lobby and elevators filled with staff and trainees. "We’re heading straight to the studio," he explained. "He’s already there."

The walk felt longer than it probably was, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. When we finally reached the studio, Jihoon paused at the door, turning to us.

"Ready?" he asked.

"As I’ll ever be," I replied, tightening my grip on my laptop case.

He opened the door, and there he was, Min Yoongi, sitting in front of a massive console, his back to us.

He turned at the sound of the door, his expression neutral as he stood to greet us. His gaze swept over Minji first, then landed on me. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he frowned, looking at Jihoon.

"This is K?" he asked, his tone sceptical.

Jihoon winced. "Uh, yeah. This is K."

Yoongi’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "You’re joking, right?"

I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Last time I checked, I’m not a joke."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "You’re not what I expected."

"Good," I said, setting my laptop on the table. "Let’s get started." Yoongi smirked, leaning against the edge of the console, arms crossed. His sharp gaze never left me as he added, "I have to say, your previous work didn’t exactly… scream ‘feminine touch.’ If anything, I thought you’d walk in here with a beard and flannel shirt."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

Jihoon coughed awkwardly, stepping back as if distancing himself from Yoongi’s comment. Minji shot him a warning look, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.

Yoongi raised a hand, his smirk widening. "No offense. I’m just saying your music has this raw, almost aggressive energy. It’s impressive. I just didn’t picture..." He motioned vaguely toward me. "...this."

Minji quickly interjected, "Alright, we’ll leave you two to it. Jihoon and I have some things to take care of."

"Wait—" I started, but Minji grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve and dragged him toward the door.

"You’ll be fine," she called over her shoulder. "Just... play nice, both of you."

The door shut with a soft click, and I was left staring at Yoongi, who looked far too amused for my liking.

"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You think this whole thing is a waste of time, right? That I’m here because someone in your company thought you needed ‘help.’"

He shrugged, moving to his chair and spinning it lazily before sitting down. "Help isn’t the word I’d use. But yeah, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this arrangement."

"Trust me," I said flatly, "neither was I."

That earned a low chuckle from him. "At least we’re on the same page."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. I’d dealt with condescending colleagues before, but Yoongi’s nonchalant attitude was already grating on my nerves. How different was he from the Yoongi I’d seen in interviews or fan videos? This guy wasn’t the soft-spoken, thoughtful artist fans adored. He was sharp, blunt, and entirely too smug.

"Let’s just get to work," I said, pulling out my laptop and external drive. "You have lyrics, right? Show me what you’ve got."

Yoongi grabbed a notebook from the desk and slid it across the table. "Here. Three tracks I’m stuck on. The lyrics are solid, but I can’t find the right sound to match them."

I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines. His handwriting was neat but compact, and the lyrics were, as expected, incredible. Emotionally raw, introspective, and layered with meaning. They demanded a melody that could do them justice.

"What’s the vibe you’re going for?" I asked, keeping my tone professional.

Yoongi tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "Something atmospheric. A mix of minimalistic and haunting, but with enough depth to make it feel powerful. Think piano-driven but layered with electronic textures. I want it to hit hard emotionally but not overwhelm the lyrics."

I nodded, already forming ideas in my head. "Okay, let’s try something."

Opening my laptop, I connected it to the studio’s system and pulled up my digital audio workstation. I started layering a simple chord progression on the piano, experimenting with minor chords to create the moody tone he wanted. Yoongi watched silently for a moment before leaning forward. "No, that’s too soft. It needs more tension."

I adjusted the progression, adding a dissonant note to the second chord. "Better?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Now bring in a low synth pad to fill it out."

I worked quickly, adding the synth and tweaking the sound to give it a subtle pulse. The room filled with the beginnings of a melody, and for a moment, the tension between us eased as we both focused on the music.

"Not bad," Yoongi muttered, almost to himself. "But it still feels... flat."

I bit back a retort, reminding myself that this was his music. "What do you suggest?"

He leaned back, closing his eyes as he listened. "The transition between the first and second chords needs more weight. Maybe a reversed sample or a swell to build anticipation."

I nodded, grabbing a sample from my library and reversing it. After a few adjustments, I played it back. The swell added a subtle but impactful build to the transition.

Yoongi opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "That’s better."

"Glad I could meet your standards," I said dryly.

He chuckled again, the sound low and almost teasing. "Relax. I’m not here to make this harder than it has to be."

"Could’ve fooled me," I muttered under my breath, earning another amused glance from him.

Despite his initial scepticism, Yoongi was a perfectionist, and that part of him was something I could respect. He pushed for the smallest details, catching nuances that most producers might overlook. But he also didn’t hold back his opinions, which made working with him both frustrating and oddly invigorating.

As the hours passed, we fell into a rhythm. He’d point out what wasn’t working, I’d offer a solution, and we’d tweak it until we found something we both liked. By the time we wrapped up for the day, we’d made significant progress on the first track. The rough demo already had a haunting, melancholic energy that complemented his lyrics perfectly. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Not bad for our first day."

"Let’s hope tomorrow’s just as productive," I said, saving the project file.

He smirked, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "We’ll see. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be."

"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You’re a real charmer."

"Only when I want to be," he shot back, heading for the door.

As he left, I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. Working with him was exhausting, but I couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling under my frustration. For all his arrogance, Yoongi was undeniably talented, and I found myself looking forward to the challenge of working with him. *** The next morning, Yoongi and I sat in the studio reviewing the progress from the day before. The demo played softly in the background, and while it sounded promising, there were a few sections that felt off.

"We need to rework this transition," Yoongi said, pointing at the waveform on the screen. "It’s too abrupt. It needs more build-up."

I nodded, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Agreed. Maybe adding a soft vocal sample or layering the synth more would smooth it out."

"Try it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

As I adjusted the track, Yoongi’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep working. I’ll be back."

He left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I sighed and refocused on the track, tweaking the layers as the melody slowly started to evolve. But after about twenty minutes, I decided to take a break. My coffee from earlier had caught up with me, and I needed to find the bathroom.

Stepping into the hallway, I started down the corridor when I heard Yoongi’s voice from around the corner. I paused, not wanting to interrupt, but something about his tone made me linger.

"...So yeah, Jihoon, I didn’t know she was a girl," he was saying.

I froze, my pulse quickening.

"I mean, if I’d known that was the case, maybe I would’ve pushed back harder at the beginning. Told them I didn’t need the help. She’s okay and talented, sure, but there are other producers out there who could’ve done this just as well."

My stomach twisted. Was that really what he thought of me? I took a step back, the faint creak of my shoe on the floor startling me. Afraid he might notice, I turned and quickly walked the other way, heading toward the nearest staircase to find another bathroom. I didn’t want to hear anything else.

After finally finding a bathroom and giving myself a moment to cool down, I headed back to the studio. I was determined not to let Yoongi know I’d overheard him, but my annoyance simmered beneath the surface. When I stepped back into the room, he was already there, seated casually at the console like he hadn’t just dismissed my abilities a few minutes ago.

"Done with your break?" he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through the project file.

"Yeah," I replied shortly, taking my seat across from him.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly. "You okay? You sound... off."

"Just tired," I said, forcing a neutral tone.

He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. Let’s pick up where we left off."

We dove back into the work, but my responses to his suggestions were clipped.

"That transition is too smooth," he said at one point. "It needs more contrast."

"Fine," I replied curtly, adjusting the settings without looking at him.

A few minutes later, he frowned at another section. "This part feels like it’s missing something. Maybe we should—"

"Add another layer?" I interrupted. "I know. Already on it."

Yoongi blinked at me, surprised by my tone. "What’s with the attitude?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, not meeting his gaze.

"Doesn’t seem like nothing," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If you’ve got something to say, just say it."

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the mouse. "I don’t have anything to say, Yoongi. Let’s just get this done, okay?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might push further. But then he shrugged, turning back to the monitor. "Whatever you say."

The tension in the room was palpable, and it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

"Look," he said after a long silence, his voice softer but still firm, "if something’s bothering you, it’s better to air it out now. We’re supposed to be a team, remember?"

I laughed humourlessly. "Team? Right."

Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, what did I do? You were fine this morning, and now you’re acting like I kicked your dog."

I hesitated, torn between calling him out and keeping what I’d heard to myself. In the end, I shook my head. "It’s nothing. Let’s just focus on the music."

He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop, his focus returning to the track. For the rest of the session, I kept my replies short, my tone professional but distant. If he noticed, he didn’t comment again. But as I left the studio that evening, I couldn’t shake the sting of his words. He might think I was talented, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.

*** Sunday was a rare blessing, my day off, a chance to breathe away from the suffocating confines of the studio and Min Yoongi. The contract was clear: three months to collaborate on three tracks for his upcoming album. That deadline loomed over every interaction, and yet, the past week had felt like a year.

I sat across from Minji at our favourite café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter around us. She was nursing her caramel latte, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward. "How’s it going with Yoongi? Are you two getting along?"

I scoffed, stirring my drink with unnecessary aggression. "Getting along? Not even close. He’s impossible."

Minji raised an eyebrow. "Impossible how? Isn’t he just... quiet and focused?"

"Quiet? Sure. Focused? Definitely. But it’s like working with a brick wall that also has an opinion on everything. He’s a perfectionist to the point where it’s unbearable. We made progress on a track, a full week’s worth of progress, and on Friday, he decided he didn’t like it and scrapped the whole thing. We’re starting from scratch tomorrow."

Her eyes widened. "He threw it all away? After a week? Was it really that bad?"

I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it wasn’t bad. It was good, really good, actually. But it wasn’t perfect by his standards. He nit-picks every little thing, and don’t even get me started on his work ethic. The man doesn’t stop. I get it, he’s Yoongi, he’s supposed to be this genius producer or whatever. But does he have to be so infuriating?"

Minji smiled sympathetically, sipping her latte. "Well, you knew this wasn’t going to be easy. He’s got a reputation for a reason. But isn’t it a good challenge? You’re working with one of the best."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought it would be different, you know? I had this idea of him in my head. This brilliant, creative artist who would respect me as a collaborator. Instead, he’s... cold, demanding, and so stubborn."

Minji chuckled. "Sounds like he’s met his match."

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, please. If he’s met his match, he doesn’t realize it. He probably just sees me as another producer he has to tolerate."

"That’s not true," Minji said, shaking her head. "You’re talented, Y/N. He’ll see it eventually."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I hope so, because right now, it feels like we’re just butting heads. He questions everything I do. And don’t even get me started on his attitude. He’s so... smug sometimes."

"Smug how?"

"Like—ugh!" I gestured vaguely, trying to find the words. "It’s the way he looks at me, like he’s constantly judging whether I’m good enough to be there. He doesn’t say it outright, but I can tell he’s thinking it. And it drives me insane."

Minji laughed, leaning back in her chair. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

"Bad?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Bad as in annoyed? Yes. Bad as in anything else? Absolutely not."

"Sure," she said, her tone teasing.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You’re impossible."

Minji grinned, nudging my arm. "You know, maybe this is good for you. A little friction can spark creativity. And who knows? Maybe he’s just testing you."

"Testing me?" I repeated, giving her a sceptical look.

"Yeah. Like, seeing how far you’re willing to push yourself. Maybe he’s trying to figure you out."

"Or maybe he’s just a workaholic control freak," I muttered.

Minji laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Point taken. But don’t let him get under your skin too much. You’ve got this, Y/N. And who knows? By the end of three months, maybe you’ll even like him."

I snorted. "Not a chance."

But as much as I hated to admit it, her words stuck with me.

*** The following week was no easier than the first. Yoongi and I worked tirelessly in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, experimenting with melodies, and layering sounds. For every step forward, there seemed to be two steps back.

"This bassline isn’t strong enough," Yoongi said on Tuesday, frowning at the speakers.

"I think it works," I argued. "It’s subtle, but it adds depth to the track."

"Subtle isn’t what we’re going for," he countered.

"And what are we going for, exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "Something better than this."

I wanted to throw my notebook at him.

By Wednesday, we’d managed to salvage some of the earlier work, only for Yoongi to suggest another round of revisions.

"You’re kidding," I said, staring at him.

"Do I look like I’m kidding?" he replied, completely serious.

"Do you ever smile?" I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

The tension between us was constant, a tug-of-war where neither of us was willing to back down. And yet, beneath the frustration, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our interactions. As much as I disliked him, I couldn’t deny that he was brilliant. Watching him work was like witnessing a master at his craft, every decision precise, every movement deliberate. But that didn’t mean I liked him. And I certainly wasn’t going to let him know just how much I respected his talent.

*** The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the studio, casting soft golden stripes across the equipment. I was at the workstation, tweaking some samples on my laptop while Yoongi stepped out for a meeting, or whatever it was he disappeared to.

The door opened suddenly, and I assumed it was him coming back. "Did you finally decide to—"

I froze mid-sentence as someone entirely different walked in. The man was tall, with a warm smile and an unmistakable energy that lit up the room. His eyes scanned the studio until they landed on me, his confusion immediately evident.

"Uh… hi?" he said, his smile faltering slightly. "I’m looking for Yoongi. Did I walk into the wrong room? I am pretty sure this is the right one though..." he started scratching the top of his head, clearly confused.

"No, this is the right place," I replied, standing awkwardly. "He just stepped out for a bit."

His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Wait—who are you? Why is there… a girl in here?"

I frowned, crossing my arms. "What’s that supposed to mean? Girls aren’t allowed in studios now?"

His hands shot up defensively, and he chuckled nervously. "No, no! That’s not what I meant! It’s just… Yoongi didn’t mention working with someone new today. And you’re clearly not Jihoon."

"Clearly," I said dryly.

He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. "Okay, let me start over. I’m Hoseok, but you probably know me as J-Hope."

Ah, then it clicked , of course it was J-Hope. His sunny demeanour didn’t match the grumpy energy Yoongi radiated, though, which was a refreshing change.

"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite nod. "I’m Y/N."

Hoseok’s expression didn’t change for a moment as if he were trying to process something. Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer like he’d just discovered something exciting.

"Wait a second," he said, his tone playfully suspicious. "I’m not even supposed to be here, you know. I heard Yoongi was working with the producer K who doesn’t even disclose their identity, but I just couldn’t resist. I love the music that K has done, so I had to come meet him. Will sign an NDA and everything."

I felt a twinge of amusement at his enthusiasm but kept my expression neutral. Something told me it was okay for him to know. "Well, congratulations. You just met… him."

Hoseok blinked, and then his jaw dropped dramatically as he pointed at me. "No way!"

"Way," I said, trying not to laugh.

His hand flew to his chest as if he were clutching imaginary pearls. "That’s why Yoongi didn’t even say anything when I begged for details! He just said, ‘There’s an NDA in place’ and refused to elaborate."

"Pretty much," I replied with a shrug.

Hoseok stared at me for a beat longer before a wide grin spread across his face. "You’re good. Like, really good. I’ve been following your work, but I never would’ve guessed you were… Well, you!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that a compliment or a subtle way of saying I don’t look the part?"

"No, no, definitely a compliment," he said quickly, waving his hands. "It’s just… Yoongi’s been extra secretive about this whole thing. And now I see why."

"Yeah, well," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, "he’s not exactly a ray of sunshine to work with."

Hoseok laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Trust me, I know. But if you’re still here, that means you’re tougher than most. Or really patient."

"Or both," I muttered under my breath.

Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute. "Well, K—er, Y/N—it’s an honor to meet you. Seriously. Your work speaks for itself."

He continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, when I say this, Yoongi wouldn’t work with you if you weren’t talented. He’s picky about these things. So if he’s giving you a hard time, it’s probably because he knows you’re good enough to keep up with him."

I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "That’s… nice of you to say."

"Just calling it like I see it," he said with a shrug.

Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Yoongi walked in. His eyes flicked between me and Hoseok, his expression unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" he asked Hoseok, his tone laced with mild irritation.

Hoseok grinned, completely unfazed. "Came by to check on you, of course. But I see you’re in good hands."

Yoongi’s gaze shifted to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something—annoyance? Curiosity? It was hard to tell.

"Don’t you have your own schedule to worry about?" Yoongi asked, walking over to his desk.

"I’m on a break," Hoseok replied cheerfully. "And besides, I wanted to meet your mystery producer. You could’ve mentioned she’s not a guy, by the way."

Yoongi’s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on the stack of notes in front of him, clearly dismissing the conversation.

"Well," Hoseok said, standing up and stretching, "I’ll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Y/N."

"Nice meeting you too," I said, watching as he strolled out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Yoongi and me alone again.

"You’ve been busy making friends," he said, not looking up from his papers.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Just don’t let him distract you. We’ve got work to do."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," I said, turning back to my laptop with a hint of sarcasm.

Yoongi didn’t push further, but I could feel his gaze linger on me for a moment before he returned to his papers. But as I settled back into the project, I couldn’t help but think about what Hoseok had said. Maybe Yoongi’s high standards weren’t a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, they were proof that he saw something in me worth pushing for. *** The next day, I walked into the studio, ready to dive into the work, but there was something off in the air. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. It was a subtle change, but it didn’t escape me, he wasn’t his usual, calm and collected self.

I sat down at my workstation, glancing over at him. He was clearly deep in thought, but there was an edge to his silence today that felt... different. More charged. I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterday’s interaction with Hoseok. Yoongi didn’t acknowledge my arrival, which was typical, but today his lack of response felt unusually pointed. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke without looking up.

“Didn’t you want your identity a secret?” His voice was cold, almost accusatory.

I froze.

“Excuse me?” I asked, trying to hide the annoyance creeping up my neck.

“Talking to Hoseok yesterday," he continued, now looking at me with an unreadable expression. "The whole 'I can’t reveal my identity' thing. So why are you suddenly so comfortable with him knowing?"

I felt a flash of irritation surge through me, but I kept my voice level.

“I never said I was ‘comfortable’ with it,” I replied. “I’m just doing my job. And I don’t owe you an explanation about my personal decisions”.

He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read between the lines, but said nothing more. The tension hung heavy in the room as he returned to his screen, though his fingers seemed to hesitate over the keys. I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath. What did he think? That I just decided to throw away years of carefully cultivated anonymity for fun? Minji had already alerted me that J-hope had also signed the NDA. I glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Let’s just get to work,” I said, my tone clipped, trying to deflect from the awkwardness of his question. “You said you wanted to tweak the second verse.”

“Yeah," he muttered, still not meeting my gaze, "but now I’m wondering if I even want to keep collaborating with someone who can’t keep things private.”

There it was again. That little jab. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth, my patience thinning.

“I’ve been working in this industry for years, Yoongi,” I said, fighting to keep my composure. “Long before this project. I know what’s at stake. Don’t lecture me about privacy.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something, was it guilt? But he quickly masked it with his usual indifference.

“Right,” he said, standing up and walking toward the soundboard. “Let’s get this over with.”

The rest of the session passed with both of us avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Despite the friction, we did manage to make some progress. I’d never admit it aloud, but Yoongi was damn good at what he did. Even when he was being insufferable. After a while, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off a headache.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be,” he muttered, half to himself.

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

He gave me a sideways glance, not quite meeting my eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Maybe someone more... calculated. Or quieter.”

“Is that so?” I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Because I thought you liked chaos in your music.”

He smirked at that, but the tension still lingered between us, thick and unresolved.

As the day wore on, we continued to push through, though it was clear neither of us was really in the mood for any small talk or the usual banter. The chemistry that had started to form in previous days was gone, replaced by an almost uncomfortable distance. I finally stood up to stretch, my back aching from sitting for so long. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, voice cool, as though he didn’t care.

“Yeah. I’m going to grab something to eat,” I replied curtly, gathering my things.

Halfway through gathering my things, for a split second, I thought I saw Yoongi open his mouth as if he was about to say something. Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face or just the weird tension between us, but for a brief second, I thought, just maybe, he was going to offer to grab something to eat with me. Instead, he just turned away, his back to me as he focused on his work. I blinked, swallowing the unexpected disappointment that bubbled up. What was I even expecting? It wasn’t like we were friends. Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my bag and left the studio, the door clicking shut behind me.

*** Once I got to the company’s cafeteria, I was finally able to relax. The soft buzz of voices and clinking silverware was a welcome break from the tension in the studio. I grabbed a tray and found a seat by the window, trying my best to shove aside any thoughts of Yoongi.

He was a talented producer, no doubt, but the way he treated me was... irritating. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. This was business, not friendship, and I had no time to be distracted by someone who probably saw me as just another collaborator, nothing more.

I opened my notebook and jotted down a few ideas for the next two songs we still needed to work on. The first song was nearly done, but we’d been working on it for two weeks, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It was slow progress, and I could already feel the deadline creeping closer.

I was so deep in thought, sketching out some melodies, that I didn’t notice Hoseok standing in front of me until he waved his hand in front of my face.

“Y/N?” He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

I jumped a little, then glanced up at him. “Oh, hey, Hoseok. Didn’t see you there.”

He slid into the seat across from me, still grinning like he knew something I didn’t. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me curiously. “So, how’s it going? He’s not making it too hard for you, is he?”

I almost snorted at the question. “Hard? That’s an understatement. But yeah, I’m surviving. We’re getting somewhere.”

He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to get along with Yoongi so easily. He’s a bit... stubborn, right?”

I shrugged, taking a bite of my food to avoid answering too directly.

“You’d be surprised what I can tolerate,” I said, feeling defensive for some reason.

Hoseok tilted his head, his gaze sharp. “I guess so. But you know, it’s funny.”

I looked up from my food, confused. “What’s funny?”

Hoseok smirked. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to be such a fan of Yoongi’s music.”

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What do you mean?”

Hoseok just pointed at my phone on the table, where I’d left it open to a playlist of Yoongi’s songs.

I froze, then quickly reached to hide it, but it was too late. Hoseok’s grin widened.

“You know, I really didn’t expect that,” he said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. “I mean, I always knew Yoongi’s music was good, but seeing you listen to it like that... I got to admit, I’m curious what you think of it.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. “I’m just... trying to learn more about him, okay? It’s part of the job.”

“Sure, sure,” Hoseok said, still grinning. “I mean, I get it. He’s got a certain... appeal. But hey, don’t let it distract you too much. He’s not the easiest person to get close to.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” I muttered, returning to my food, trying to act like I wasn’t the least bit fazed.

Hoseok studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.

“Well, if you want my advice...” He grinned again, his eyes mischievous. “Try not to fall for the music and the man, yeah?”

I choked slightly on my food, coughing. “What?!”

Hoseok laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. “I’m just saying, Y/N, don’t get too swept up in it all. Yoongi’s a complicated guy. He’s not someone who’ll make things easy.”

I scowled, but there was a small part of me that couldn’t help but appreciate Hoseok’s frankness. “I’m not falling for anything, Hoseok. I’m just here to do my job.”

Hoseok just winked and stood up. “Whatever you say. But if you do need to talk about him... I’m always around.”

Hoseok paused, about to turn around before he shot me a sly grin over his shoulder. “Actually… I don’t know if you’re comfortable with all this yet, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m known for throwing some pretty epic parties around here,” he said, his tone playful. “I’m throwing one at the company soon, gathering the staff, and some of the BTS members will be there too.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused at where this was going. “A party?”

“Yeah, and I can introduce you as the ‘Assistant of Producer K,’ so you won’t have to expose your identity if you’re worried about that. It’ll be low-key, just a way for you to get used to the vibe here. Who knows? You might even get a chance to chat with Yoongi... outside of the studio.” He smirked, his gaze lingering on me as if he could see through the walls I’d built up. “You can bring a plus-one too, if you want.”

It was tempting, especially with the idea of getting out of this studio for a while. Plus, Hoseok seemed genuine, and I didn’t want to just keep hiding away in my little corner of the world.

Still, I was cautious. This wasn’t my scene, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step into the spotlight, especially if it meant running into Yoongi in a setting like that. The thought of it made my stomach flip.

“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to sound neutral.

Hoseok grinned, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Take your time. You know where to find me if you decide.”

With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat there for a moment, turning the invitation over in my head. A party? An opportunity to get used to the vibes, meet people, and possibly see Yoongi in a completely different light. It could be good for me to step out of my shell, get out of my head for a bit. But... was I ready for that?

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. There was no need to make decisions in a rush. I’d think about it later. I finished eating in silence, trying to push all the thoughts about Hoseok’s offer out of my head. It wasn’t like me to just drop everything for a party, but something about the idea of getting out of the studio, meeting people, and maybe getting a chance to see Yoongi in a less... tense environment intrigued me. But I couldn’t focus on that now.

I stood up, pushing my tray toward the dirty dish bin, and made my way back to the studio. As I walked through the hallway, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. It was like I’d just left, but already it felt like I’d been away too long. The faint hum of the studio's equipment reached my ears before I even stepped through the door.

When I entered, the first thing I noticed was Yoongi, still at his spot, but now with a bowl of noodles in front of him. The faint smell of the broth hit me, and I couldn't help but cringe. Didn’t he ever leave this place?

Yoongi looked up from his meal, barely acknowledging me as I entered. "You’re back," he muttered, his voice a little muffled by a mouthful of noodles.

"Yeah," I said, letting the door close behind me. "Still working, I see."

“Of course,” he replied, the tone in his voice sounding almost too casual. "The faster we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next track."

I dropped my bag onto the table and pulled my chair out. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You keep rushing through everything, thinking you can just ‘move on’ from one song to the next. But this isn’t a race, Yoongi.”

He looked at me sharply, his brows furrowing. "I'm not rushing anything. We need to get this done before the deadline, and you can’t expect me to just waste time on something that isn’t working."

I stared at him, my patience thinning. “You’re not even open to trying something new. Every idea I suggest gets shot down, but you’re so attached to this ‘perfect’ vision of yours. Well, guess what? Perfect doesn’t exist.”

Yoongi set his bowl down, the chopsticks clinking against the edge. “So what, you think I’m not doing my best?” His eyes narrowed, and the room suddenly felt smaller. “You think I don’t care about the quality?”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “It’s not about that, Yoongi. You’re too set in your ways. You think your way is the only way, but this is a collaboration. I can’t just keep following your orders. I’m not your assistant.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead, like I was the last thing he needed in his life right now. "I never said you were my assistant."

“Then stop treating me like one,” I snapped, feeling my annoyance rise. "I’m not here just to cater to your ideas. If we’re working together, we need to meet in the middle."

The silence stretched between us for a few long moments. Then Yoongi glanced away, exhaling sharply as if trying to push back his own frustration. "Fine," he muttered. "We’ll figure it out. But don’t expect everything to happen overnight."

“I don’t,” I replied dryly. "But I expect respect, which is something you seem to be lacking in."

He didn’t answer right away, just went back to staring at his noodles. For a moment, I thought it might be best to just call it a day and leave, but something about the lingering tension kept me rooted to the spot.

"By the way," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess myself. "Hoseok invited me to a party. At the company. I’m thinking about going."

Yoongi’s head snapped up at the mention of Hoseok’s name, and I caught the flash of something in his eyes—a mix of surprise, confusion. It was hard to tell. But whatever it was, it was there, even if he quickly masked it with a smirk.

“Hoseok?” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it. “What’s he got to do with you going to a party?”

"I don’t know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe I’ll go. I might need a break from the studio. Get out of here for a bit. And who knows? It might be nice to talk to someone who isn’t you."

Yoongi didn’t seem pleased with that, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him, ignoring me completely.

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” he asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know,” I replied, leaning forward on my elbows. “You’ve been pretty hard to work with lately. Maybe a break is exactly what I need.”

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask you not to take a break. I’m just... trying to get this done.”

I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. "Fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to actually collaborate. You can stop being so defensive for two seconds."

There was another tense silence before I stood up to leave the room. But as I reached for the door, something inside me—maybe frustration, maybe curiosity—made me turn back.

“By the way,” I said, walking back to Yoongi’s desk. “Could you give me Hoseok’s number? I might need it for the party.”

Yoongi froze for a second, his fingers stopping mid-air as if I’d just thrown him off balance. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he didn’t say anything.

"Why would you need that?" he finally asked, voice tight.

"Because I need to respond to him if I am showing up or not," I replied, my tone sharp.

Yoongi glared at me but didn’t say anything else, a muscle in his jaw twitching. After a beat, he reluctantly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it toward me. “Here. But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.”

I took the paper, glancing at it before shoving it into my pocket. “Thanks. I’ll make sure not to expect you there.”

Without another word, I turned and left, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. What was going on with Yoongi? And, most importantly... Why did his attitude bother me more than I cared to admit? *** I grabbed my phone, fingers hovering over the screen before I hit send. The past few days had been a blur of studio time and late-night meals. I needed something to break the routine. So, Thursday evening I finally decided to take Hoseok up on his offer.

Y/N: Hey Hoseok, it's Y/N! I just wanted to double-check the party details again. You said it’s at the company building, right? What time should I be there?

The response was almost immediate, Hoseok’s usual energy practically jumping out of the screen.

Hoseok: Yep! It’s at the company building. We’ll start around 7 PM, but feel free to come anytime after that. You know how these things go. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re introduced properly as “Prod K’s assistant” so no one will know who you really are. It’ll be low-key, promise!

I let out a relieved sigh. That sounded like exactly what I needed … low-key, no expectations, just a chance to escape the studio for a bit.

Y/N: Thanks, that sounds perfect. I’ll be there. Can I bring my friend Minji? She’d love to come.

Hoseok: Of course! Bring whoever you want. It’s all about having a good time. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!

I grinned at the message, feeling a little lighter. At least for one night, I could just focus on having fun and not worry about my identity or working with Yoongi.

Putting my phone down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The whole idea of going to a party sounded so... normal, so different from the chaos I had been drowning in lately. The studio, Yoongi’s sharp comments, and the constant pressure to produce. Maybe this would be a good chance to just... breathe.

I glanced over at the calendar on my desk, mentally counting the days. The next day, I texted Minji.

Y/N: Hey, I’m going to that party Hoseok invited me to on Sunday. Want to come with me?

Minji: YES YES YES YES. This is going to be so fun! Who else is going?

Y/N: Apparently, all the BTS members will be there too.

Minji: Wait, like ALL of them? Are you serious? We need to plan our outfits then.

Y/N: Just don’t go overboard, okay? Let’s keep it chill.

Minji: You know I can't do “chill” when it comes to parties!

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. Minji was always up for an adventure. I knew she’d be bouncing off the walls all weekend in preparation. I didn’t mind though. If anyone could pull me out of my head and get me excited for something, it was her.

When Saturday evening arrived, the studio was buzzing with an unexpected energy. After three weeks of near-constant back-and-forth, I finally felt like we’d made some real progress. The first song was done. It wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as we could get in such a short time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders.

I glanced at Yoongi, who had been hunched over his computer screen for hours, typing away at the final tweaks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when the last beat dropped into place, he sat back in his chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"We did it," he said, turning his head to meet my eyes.

It wasn’t much, but there was a slight spark in his gaze. A hint of pride, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual indifference.

“Yeah, we did,” I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "It’s... good."

Yoongi paused, eyes locked on mine for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you don’t completely suck at this after all."

I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I’m glad to know you’re impressed."

We both laughed softly, the tension that had been hanging between us for weeks finally easing. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn’t used to with him, but I couldn’t deny it. It felt... nice. Like we’d just hit a milestone together.

Yoongi extended his hand, and I hesitated for a split second before I went for it, my palm feeling warmer than usual. Our high-five was awkward, neither of us really knowing how to react. But in that brief moment, I realized how unusual it was for us to share something this... simple.

"Congratulations," I said, nodding toward the screen. "We actually did it."

"Yeah," Yoongi replied, his voice softer than I expected. "I’ll see you on Monday, then. We’ll tackle the next one."

I blinked, taken aback for a second. Monday? Just like that, the professional distance came back. I hadn’t expected him to say that so casually, but I guess it was what we were supposed to do: get the work done, pack up, and move on.

But for some reason, as I sat there in the quiet of the studio, a thought lingered. He’s really not coming to the party, huh?

I glanced over at him, but Yoongi was already packing up his things, seemingly focused on getting out of the studio as quickly as possible. He didn’t even look back at me as he gathered his notes and the leftover snacks we had both been snacking on throughout the day.

I stood up and grabbed my bag, deciding it was better to just let it go. No need to dwell on something that wasn’t going to happen. He was Yoongi, professional, distant Yoongi. He wasn’t someone who would show up to a party for fun.

"Alright," I said, the awkwardness settling back into my chest. "See you Monday, I guess."

Yoongi glanced over at me for a brief moment, nodding. "Yeah. See you."

As I left the studio, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, but I couldn’t place what. Maybe it was just the relief of finally finishing the first song. Or maybe it was just the weird dynamic between us, the unexpected moments of quiet camaraderie that had popped up over the last few days.

But as I stepped out of the building, I realized how much I was looking forward to the party on Sunday. It was the break I needed. *** Sunday evening came faster than I expected. Minji showed up at my apartment just as I was pulling out a few potential outfits from my closet. She threw her bag on the couch and plopped herself down with a dramatic sigh.

“Finally, a party!” she exclaimed, leaning back and stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “We’ve been cooped up with that brooding genius for weeks. We need this.”

I rolled my eyes, laying a sleek black turtleneck dress over the back of the chair. “It’s not ‘we’. I’m the one stuck with him in the studio.”

Minji snorted. “You say that like I’m not the one dealing with your constant texts complaining about how annoying he is. ‘Minji, he’s impossible. Minji, he’s a perfectionist. Minji, he’s so irritatingly—’”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. “I get it.”

She caught the pillow with a grin. “Admit it, though. You’re starting to like working with him, aren’t you?”

“Like is a strong word,” I muttered, holding up a dark green dress and then discarding it. “We finally finished one song yesterday. That’s it.”

“But you’re not denying it.” She smirked, standing up to rummage through the pile of clothes I’d pulled out. “Ooh, this one’s cute.”

She held up a sequined gold dress, and I shook my head immediately. “Too flashy. I’m not trying to stand out. Just look professional and approachable.”

Minji rolled her eyes. “You know this is a party, right? Not a corporate meeting?”

“Still. I want to keep a low profile,” I said, picking up the black turtleneck dress. It was tight enough to show some curves but modest enough to feel professional, with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. “What about this?”

Minji tilted her head, considering. “It’s very you. Chic, understated, mysterious. And Yoongi’s probably going to notice you in it.”

I groaned. “Not everything is about Yoongi!“

Minji raised an eyebrow, smirking as she flopped onto the couch. “Oh, really? If it’s not about Yoongi, then why are you quoting him like he’s living rent-free in your head?”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. “Because it’s relevant! When I told him Hoseok invited me, Yoongi literally said, ‘But if you think I’m going to chase you to the party... you’re wrong.’ And yesterday, after we finished the song, he ended with, ‘See you Monday.’” I huffed. “He couldn’t have been clearer about not showing up.”

Minji snorted. “Wow. He really went out of his way to make sure you knew, huh?”

“Exactly.” I tossed the dress onto the bed. “So, can we drop this whole ‘Yoongi might surprise you at the party’ thing? It’s not happening.”

Minji held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No Yoongi talk. But honestly, he sounds so extra about it. Like, what’s his deal? You’re the one who didn’t even want to be there with him in the first place.”

“Exactly!” I said again, throwing my hands up. “I don’t even care if he shows up or not. This is supposed to be my break. I just want to go, enjoy the night, and pretend I don’t have deadlines hanging over my head for one evening.”

Minji smirked knowingly but didn’t say anything more as she got up to sift through her own options for the party. After a moment, she held up a red dress with a dramatic neckline and sparkling details. “What about this for me? It screams ‘I’m the fun friend.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You don’t need a dress to say that. Everyone already knows.”

***

A little while later, we were both ready. Minji had gone with her glittery red dress, while I stuck to my black turtleneck one.

As we grabbed our things, Minji gave me a playful nudge. “Okay, so, final thoughts: what if Yoongi does show up, despite everything he said?”

I shot her a withering look. “Then I’ll eat my words. But that’s not happening.”

Minji grinned as we headed out the door. “We’ll see.”

*** The energy of the party was already palpable as Minji and I entered the venue. The music was loud enough to drown out any awkward thoughts, and the lighting cast a warm, celebratory glow. Before we could get our bearings, a familiar figure spotted us and made his way over with an enthusiastic wave.

“Welcome, welcome!” Hoseok beamed, his smile as bright as the room itself. “You made it! I was starting to think you’d ditch last minute.”

Minji laughed. “Not with you hosting, J-hope. She couldn’t say no.”

I shot her a quick glare but turned to Hoseok with a polite smile. “Thanks for inviting us.”

As we exchanged pleasantries, a small group approached him, each handing over neatly wrapped gifts or gift bags.

“Happy birthday, Hobi!” one of them exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before leaving the gift with him.

I blinked, taken aback. “Wait... birthday?” I turned to Hoseok, brows furrowed. “Is this... your birthday party?”

Hoseok gave me a sheepish grin. “Well, yeah. Kind of.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!”

“Of course, I didn’t,” he replied, laughing. “If I told you, you wouldn’t have come. Admit it!”

I opened my mouth to protest, then paused, realizing he wasn’t entirely wrong. “…Okay, fair. But now I feel terrible. I didn’t bring you anything.”

He waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. “Don’t even worry about it. Your presence is enough of a gift.”

Minji rolled her eyes playfully. “Wow, smooth.”

I ignored her, offering Hoseok a tentative smile. “Well, if that’s the case, I owe you dinner. My treat. Birthday special.”

Hoseok’s grin widened, and he gave me a mock bow. “I’ll hold you to that.” As the party carried on, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Yoongi. If it was Hoseok’s birthday, then surely Yoongi would be here, right? They were bandmates, practically brothers. Despite everything he’d said, it felt impossible that he wouldn’t show up to celebrate.

Right?

Hoseok, catching my distracted expression, nudged me lightly. “Come on, let me introduce you to the guys.”

As Hoseok led me through the crowd, I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about Yoongi. I couldn’t help myself, though; the idea that he wasn’t here, despite everything, gnawed at me. Was he really just going to stay out of sight, like he’d said? Or had something else kept him away?

"Hey, over here," Hoseok called, his voice cutting through my thoughts as he pulled me toward the others. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Minji, the assistant and the manager of Producer K!"

The guys all turned to look, some with grins on their faces, others with more curious expressions. I gave a small wave, trying to maintain the composure I knew I needed for moments like this. Being around people like them—BTS—was something I wasn’t used to, but I was starting to adjust, or at least, I hoped I was.

"Y/N and Minji, huh? Nice to meet you," Jimin said first, flashing me a grin that lit up his whole face. "Hoseok's always talking about Producer K’s work. You must also be a pretty big deal if you’re working with him."

"Yeah, I've heard about his skills," Taehyung added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nice to meet some of the brains behind the scenes." He gave a slight bow, which I returned awkwardly.

"We've been hearing a lot about you guys," Namjoon said, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "It's nice to finally put a face to the names."

"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the mood light. "We just do our part in the background."

They all nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. But it was clear that Hoseok’s introduction had piqued their interest, and the attention felt overwhelming. I quickly shifted my gaze to see if Yoongi had come in yet, but the crowd was thick, and I didn’t spot him immediately.

"Minji," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low, "Do you think Yoongi’s coming?"

Minji raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hoping he does?"

I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed, nudging me playfully. "Relax, Y/N. If he’s coming, he’ll show up eventually. For now, just enjoy the party. You’ve earned it."

I sighed and nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Yoongi aside. There was no point in stressing over something I couldn’t control.

As the introductions continued, Hoseok pulled me into a more private corner of the room, away from the group for a moment. "You’re doing great," he said with a genuine smile. "I know this might feel like a lot, but you’re handling it well. The others are just excited to meet you. They’ve heard a lot about producer K."

"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised at his sudden encouragement. "I’m just trying to keep a low profile, honestly."

"Yeah, I get it," Hoseok nodded knowingly. "You know, though, if you want to meet some more people, I can introduce you around. You don’t have to worry about your identity being exposed here. "

I just nodded, grateful for his understanding. But part of me was still wondering, was Yoongi going to show up? Or had I been right all along? Was he truly not interested in stepping outside of the studio for something like this?

At that moment, Jungkook stepped over to join us. "What’s up, guys?" he said with a smile.

Hoseok grinned and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, you! This is Y/N, Producer K’s assistant. You’ve heard a lot about her, right?"

Jungkook looked at me, his expression slightly puzzled at first before breaking into a smile. "Ah, yeah, I’ve heard a little. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He gave a casual wave, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a slight smile.

Jungkook seemed to sense the tension in the air, glancing between Hoseok and me. "So, Hyung, who else did you invite?"

Hoseok grinned, looking around the room. "A lot more people, but ah, yes, Y/N—the only member you haven’t met yet is Jin. He’s in the military, so it’s just the rest of us holding down the fort tonight."

I nodded, trying to mask my surprise. "Ah, I didn’t realize. That must be tough for you guys."

Hoseok shrugged, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in his eyes. "Yeah, but it is what it is. We’re all proud of him, of course. We just miss him, that’s all."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "It’s been a while, but we’ll manage. He’ll be back before we know it."

I felt a pang of empathy for them, understanding how difficult it must be to have someone so important absent from events like this. But the conversation quickly shifted as Hoseok directed it back to me.

"So, Y/N, now that you’ve met the guys, are you having fun? No pressure, just curious." He raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for my reaction.

I forced a smile, trying to get out of my own head. "Yeah, it’s been good. Just a little overwhelming."

"Totally understandable," Jungkook said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But don’t worry. It’s just a party. No big deal."

I chuckled softly, grateful for the small bit of comfort. But my thoughts still drifted back to Yoongi. Would he really not show up?

Just then, I spotted Minji on the dance floor, looking like she was having the time of her life. Without a second thought, I nudged Hoseok. "I think I need to join her," I said, already pushing my way through the crowd.

"Go ahead," Hoseok replied with a grin. "I’ll be around if you need anything."

I made my way over to Minji, and we quickly fell into the rhythm of the music, letting the beat carry us away. The drinks were flowing, and before I knew it, the atmosphere shifted into a carefree, almost electric vibe. As more people showed up, the party grew livelier, and from time to time, some of the BTS members would come over and join us on the dance floor. It was fun, it was wild, but... my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi.

Unable to hold it in any longer, I pulled Hoseok aside when I caught him by the bar. "Hey, Hoseok... Where’s Yoongi?"

Hoseok glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged. "Oh, he was here earlier, literally before you showed up. Now that you mention it, though, I haven’t seen him since."

I felt a strange mix of disappointment and... relief? I wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was better this way, but somehow, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing from the night.

Minji and I were having a blast, drink after drink, dance after dance. The music, the energy, everything was a blur of fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I had let myself enjoy the moment so freely, and for a while, it was exactly what I needed. But after a few more songs, I started to feel a little dizzy, the world spinning just slightly out of focus.

"Minji, I’m going to head somewhere quiet for a bit," I said, my voice a little unsteady. "I just need to lay down, get myself together. I’ll be back in a bit, okay?"

She shot me a playful grin, still bouncing to the beat. "Take care of yourself, girl! I’ll be here if you need me!"

With that, I slipped away from the dance floor, trying to stay steady on my feet. I remembered the studio I’d worked for the past weeks had a cosy sofa tucked away in one of its corners. It was the perfect place to rest for a bit until the dizziness passed.

I made my way to the studio, feeling the coolness of the hallway against my skin. The noise of the party seemed to fade as I pushed open the door, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes for a few moments, hoping to just let the room settle.

I was only half-aware of how long I’d been there when I heard the door creak open. My eyes fluttered open, and I instantly tensed. Had someone followed me in?

There, standing in the doorway, was Yoongi. He looked surprised to see me there, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze on me.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone still as clipped as ever.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" I shot back. "I thought you weren't even coming to the party."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well I did. But, I don’t exactly need to announce my presence to everyone." His voice was colder than usual.

I bit my lip, frustration rising in my chest. "Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you're so indifferent about the party, why are you hiding out here?"

His shoulders tensed slightly as he crossed his arms in front of him while standing next to the coach, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Not hiding. Just... thinking." He sighed. "I could ask the same thing."

I crossed my arms too, feeling the heat of irritation flood my veins. "I’m just getting away from the noise for a bit, okay?"

He didn't seem convinced, his lips forming a faint, sarcastic smile. "Right. Just taking a break. From everything, including the party, in my studio huh?"

Before I could respond, the unease that had been building between us finally snapped thanks to the alcohol. I pushed past him, moving toward the door. "Fine, I’ll leave. You can have your privacy too, Yoongi."

I turned sharply, my frustration boiling over, and reached for the door. The cool metal handle felt solid beneath my fingers, offering a small comfort. But as soon as I used it to crack the door open, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. A hand shot out, and in one swift motion, Yoongi’s arm stretched across me, pushing the door shut and blocking my escape.

I froze, my pulse quickening as I felt the warmth of his body close behind me. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe for a moment, caught in the tension of his presence. His arm hovered just inches from my face, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he braced himself against the door. I could feel the faint shift of air from his movement, the pressure of his proximity filling the space between us. He was so close, but he didn’t touch me.

His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his presence so tangible that it almost felt suffocating. I couldn’t help but stiffen, the tension in the air thick and heavy. My hand, still gripping the door handle, trembled slightly, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

"Let go," I muttered, my voice low, tight with a mix of anger and something else that I couldn’t quite place.

But Yoongi didn’t budge. He was silent for a long moment, his body pressed just behind mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his every movement, his breath still brushing over the back of my neck.

"No," he said, his voice soft but firm’’...stay.” There was no hesitation in his tone, as though he had made up his mind about this. About me.

I didn’t turn to face him. I couldn’t. But I could hear the subtle shift in his tone. It wasn’t just the frustration from before—it was something else now. Something quieter.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers gripping the door handle as if it might ground me. "Why should I stay?"

Yoongi’s breath seemed to hitch at that, and he shifted slightly, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. "Because," he started slowly, his voice almost a murmur, "I didn’t tell you to leave."

His words were unexpected. I hadn’t anticipated this, whatever it was, this softness in his tone, this tension building between us.

I could feel myself bristling and I turned around to face him. "Why should I listen? You didn’t even want to work with me in the first place. Why should I stay here with you now?"

"Who told you that?"

His voice, quieter now when his eye caught mine, but the words still stung. "I overheard you that day, talking to Jihoon on the phone, during the first week. You said you should've argued harder with your company to not work with me... and you said it was because I’m a woman."

I could feel my chest tighten as the words left my lips. The tension in the air thickened, and before I knew it, I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Yoongi’s face faltered. His eyes softened.

"I didn’t say that." Yoongi's voice was quieter, almost apologetic now. "If you heard me properly that day... I said I knew you were talented. And I knew how much you value your privacy. I know this whole thing is risky for you. That’s why… if I had known you were a woman, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to work with you. I didn’t want to blow your cover or make you feel uncomfortable around me the whole time".

I blinked, my heart dropping. I felt like I had heard those words, but it was as if I hadn’t truly processed them until now. Not in that context. I could feel my breath catch in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. His words were so different from what I had thought. My mind was swirling, and before I could stop it, a few tears broke free and slid down my cheek.

Without a word, Yoongi stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek gently, his thumb swiping away the tears while holding my face.

I froze, staring up at him, unsure of what was happening, but the proximity, his nearness, was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and his touch was so soft it almost made my heart ache.

His eyes met mine again, searching, lingering. We were so close now. His breath mingled with mine as he looked down at me, and I could feel the heat between us.

"Can I..." He started, his voice low, almost hesitant, but before he could finish, the door suddenly jolted behind me.

I jumped, both of us stepping away instinctively, my heart racing. The air between Yoongi and me shattered in an instant.

It was Hoseok. He stepped inside, a playful grin on his face, but his eyes didn’t seem to notice me. "Yoongi! Where’s Y/N? She was looking out for you earlier, and then she just disappeared on me."

I couldn’t look at either of them. I just stood there, my back to the door, trying to breathe normally.

Hoseok stepped further into the room, a confused expression crossing his face as he noticed me and the way Yoongi was standing. He glanced between us, his gaze flicking back to Yoongi. "Everything good here?" he asked, sounding half-serious, half-playful.

I quickly moved, my cheeks flushed, and hurried out of the room, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Hoseok called after me, but I didn’t look back. I just needed to get away, to breathe, to think.

But as I walked away, I couldn’t stop the images of Yoongi’s eyes on me, his breath on my skin. What had just happened? I wasn’t sure, but my heart was pounding in my chest as I moved further from that room, from him. *** When I finally made it back to the party, I spotted Minji chatting away with Taehyung. She looked up and waved me over, her usual bright energy making her stand out. But I couldn’t shake the feeling from earlier. Yoongi's words, his actions. I knew I needed to leave.

"Minji," I said, cutting through the conversation. "We need to go." She blinked, surprised at the abruptness of my tone, but nodded without questioning me. I turned to Taehyung, who had been listening to Minji ramble on, with a smile on his face.

"Tell Hoseok I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I'll see him again soon," I said, my voice steady. "And remind him that I still owe him that dinner."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just gave me a knowing smile. "Alright, take care. I’ll let him know."

Minji and I made our way out of the venue, the lights of the party fading as we stepped into the cool night air. The moment we were in a taxi, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Minji glanced at me, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief as she read me like an open book. “Wow. So you did meet him. What happened? Tell me everything. Now."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You’re relentless, you know that?"

Minji threw me a playful look. "You're not getting away with it. I need to know all the details. Was it awkward? Did he talk to you? What did he say? Was it... was it like, a moment?"

I groaned, leaning back against the headrest. "Honestly, it was... complicated." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "We had a bit of an argument, and then, out of nowhere, he blocked the door when I tried to leave. He didn’t want me to go. And then, he... he said some things. I don’t know. Things about me being a woman, about my privacy... It just felt like it was all crashing down in one moment."

Minji’s face shifted from excitement to concern. "Wait, what? He said what about your privacy?"

I sighed deeply, recalling the mix of emotions from that moment. "I told him I overheard him on the phone saying he didn't want to work with me because I was a woman. I was mad. And I think I was hurt, too. He didn’t deny it. He said... he said that he knows I’m talented and that he wouldn’t have worked with me if he knew I was a girl because it could’ve blown my cover. I... I didn’t know what to think."

Minji stared at me, processing everything I’d just said. "Wow. That’s a lot. But it sounds like he really didn’t want to hurt you, Y/N. I mean, he doesn’t want to blow your cover, and he’s not the type to just say stuff for no reason. I think he might’ve been trying to protect you in his own way."

I shook my head, still not fully understanding it all. "Maybe. But it doesn’t make it easier. He’s so confusing, Minji. One minute, he’s mad at me, then we’re... closer than I thought. I don’t even know if I want to deal with it."

Minji placed a hand on mine, her expression softening. "You’re allowed to be confused. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. He’s not the only one with walls up, you know? You’ve got yours too."

I sighed, leaning back again. "Yeah, but this... this is different. He’s not supposed to make me feel like this."

Minji didn’t say anything at first, but then she shrugged slightly. "Look, I can’t tell you what to do. But whatever happens, you’ll figure it out. You always do."

Her words were comforting, even though I wasn’t sure if I agreed. I wanted to know what Yoongi wanted from me, if anything. But for now, I had to focus on what came next.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was moving through a fog. I didn’t know if it was the alcohol from the night before or the confusion swirling around my thoughts, but I had to get up, get ready, and go to work. It was just another day. I was a professional, after all.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t help but think about everything that had happened between Yoongi and I the night before. The words, the tension, the way he blocked the door... It all felt like a surreal dream now. I quickly pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. I’d told Minji last night that I wouldn’t mention it again. That was the plan. I was going to walk in, act normal, and get through this day like nothing had happened. I had a job to do.

I dressed quickly, choosing something that felt both comfortable and professional, jeans and a simple blouse. Nothing too attention-grabbing. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I headed out.

The drive to the studio was quiet, my mind a little too preoccupied with what I’d left behind. I thought about texting Minji again, but I didn’t want to be that person who overanalysed everything. I’d deal with it.

The moment I stepped into the studio, I immediately spotted Yoongi, already seated at the desk, headphones on, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. The familiar quiet hum of the place seemed to swallow up any lingering awkwardness between us.

I set my bag down on the sofa and made my way over to the desk, trying to appear as casual as possible. I could feel Yoongi’s eyes flicker briefly in my direction, but he didn’t acknowledge me right away. That was fine. No need for anything weird to happen today. I wasn’t going to let it.

“Morning,” I said, offering a neutral smile, willing myself to act as though last night had never even happened.

Yoongi just nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Morning."

I took my seat and opened my notebook, flipping through the pages as if the routine of it all would help settle the tension that had been gnawing at me since our confrontation the night before. The silence between us felt a little less suffocating, though. It wasn’t that we were talking more, it was just that Yoongi didn’t seem as harsh on his tone today. No biting comments yet, no sharp observations either.

He adjusted the volume on the speakers and clicked around on the computer for a few seconds before speaking again. "You finished that beat you were working on Saturday?"

“Yeah, it’s done,” I replied, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were focused on the screen, but I noticed there was a slight change in his demeanour. The tension from before, the coldness, seemed to have faded. It wasn’t gone completely, but it was much more subtle now.

He didn’t respond immediately, just tapped a few keys on the keyboard before nodding. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

I slid the flash drive with the updated track across the table. Yoongi took it, plugged it into the system, and started the track without a word. The room filled with the sound of the beat I had been perfecting, and I waited, watching his reaction closely.

As the beat played, Yoongi’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t make any negative comments this time. He just let the track play all the way through, his eyes scanning the waveform on the screen, listening intently.

When the track ended, he leaned back in his chair, finally looking over at me. “Not bad.”

I couldn’t help but feel a small relief wash over me. "Not bad" from Yoongi was a compliment, even if it didn’t sound like one. At least he hadn’t outright criticized it.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel my nerves creeping back up again. “Anything you want me to change?”

Yoongi scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a little too clean. Add some grit, something to make it stand out more. We need it to hit harder.”

I nodded, taking mental notes. “Got it. I’ll work on that.”

It felt almost normal, the way we interacted. No lingering animosity, no mention of what had happened the night before.

As the session continued, the vibe between us remained steady, calm and professional, with just a touch of the underlying tension we hadn’t addressed. We worked for hours, tweaking the track here and there, going back and forth on the sound and rhythm until everything was just the way we wanted it.

At some point, Yoongi stood up and stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. “I’m going to grab a coffee. You want anything?”

I blinked, surprised. He’d never offered to get me anything before, not like this. His tone was casual, though, like it was no big deal.

“I’ll take an iced coffee,” I said, half-smiling at the unexpected gesture.

Yoongi didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked out of the studio. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. It wasn’t like everything was magically fixed, but there was something about this new, less tense dynamic that felt... better. More comfortable, even.

As I sat back in my chair, I tried to focus on the track again, but my mind kept drifting. What has changed between us? I knew I wasn’t imagining it, there was definitely something different today. But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

When Yoongi came back with the coffee, we fell back into the routine of the session, but now, it felt almost easy. We were working smoothly, and I caught him glancing over at me once or twice, his eyes lingering a little longer than before.

Still, neither of us brought up what happened the night before. Not yet. Maybe it wasn’t the right time. Or maybe it was something neither of us wanted to revisit.

***

As the day came to a close, I packed up my things, feeling the weight of the day lifting off my shoulders. I had managed to get through the session with Yoongi without any more awkwardness, which was a small victory in itself. As I grabbed my bag, I looked over at Yoongi, who was already absorbed in his work again.

“See you tomorrow,” I said casually, ready to leave the studio.

Yoongi gave me a small nod, his focus not wavering. “Yeah, see you.”

I left the studio and stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off everything that had happened with Yoongi.

I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text to Hoseok.

Y/N: Hey, are you free tonight?

Hoseok: Yeah, I’m free. What’s up?

Y/N: I told you I owe you dinner. Want to grab some barbecue tonight?

Hoseok: Haha, of course I didn’t forget! Even Taehyung reminded me about it last night after you left! So yeah, sure, let’s do it. When and where?

Y/N: How about at 7 at that popular spot in Gangnam?

Hoseok: Perfect! I’ll see you there. I’ll be starving by the time we meet!

Y/N: Same here. I’m ready to eat my weight in meat.

Hoseok: Haha, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N!

Y/N: See you soon!

I smiled as I read our conversation. Hoseok had a way of lightening the mood, and the idea of spending the evening with him, laughing and eating good food, felt like the perfect way to unwind.

When I arrived at the restaurant, the smell of grilled meat hit me as soon as I stepped inside. I scanned the room for Hoseok and spotted him right away. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking up at me with a wide smile as always.

"Y/N!" he greeted me, standing up to wave as I approached.

"Helloo!" I said with a grin, taking my seat across from him.

He immediately grabbed the menu, flipping through it. "So, what are you in the mood for? Meat, meat, and more meat?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

"Definitely," I replied, laughing. "I’ve been craving barbecue all day."

We both ordered a few different cuts of meat, and as we waited for the grill to heat up, Hoseok leaned back in his chair, looking at me curiously.

"So, what happened last night?" he asked casually, the question catching me a bit off guard.

I hesitated for a second, my fingers tapping on the table. "What do you mean?" I asked, pretending not to understand what he was getting at.

"You know... I could tell something was a little off when you left the party, after i caught you with Yoongi at the studio.." Hoseok said, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Everything okay between you two?”

I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything’s fine," I said, though the words didn’t feel entirely true. "We finished the first song. Two more to go, and then we’ll be done."

Hoseok didn’t seem convinced. He nodded and took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Well, that’s good. I’m glad to hear you’re making progress. But, uh... are you sure everything’s okay with him? You know... since you’ve been working really closely together."

I looked down at my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "It’s fine, Hoseok. Really. Just... we have our days, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. "If you say so."

The food arrived, and the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill distracted us both for a moment. Hoseok was quick to start cooking, flipping the pieces of meat with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I could already feel my stomach growling in anticipation.

We continued to eat, talk, and laugh, the mood light and easy. Hoseok was a great conversationalist. We talked about music, our favourite songs, and his plans for the future. It felt so natural, like we’d known each other for years instead of just a month.

At one point, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, I’d like you to hear something," he said, tapping away at the screen. A moment later, his phone was playing a new track, a smooth, upbeat melody that instantly grabbed my attention.

"This is one of my newer tracks," Hoseok said, watching me closely as the music played. "I’m really proud of it so far, but I’d love to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think?"

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me. "This is really good, Hoseok," I said, smiling. "It’s got such a great vibe. It’s... it’s got that perfect energy."

He grinned, clearly pleased with the feedback. "Thanks. I’m hoping it’s going to be a hit. But, you know, it’s not finished yet. Still got a bit of work to do."

"Well, I’d be happy to help with anything you need," I said, my tone sincere. "I think you’re on the right track. I can already picture it in a club."

"Yeah? You’re the expert," he said, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. "Maybe I should bring you on as a collaborator someday."

I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion. "Collaborator? That would be interesting."

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "I’m just saying... if you’re up for it…"

"Maybe," I teased, taking a sip of my drink.

As the night went on, we continued to enjoy the barbecue, the conversation flowing easily between us. It was a welcome distraction from the confusion that had been hanging over me lately. It was hard not to feel at ease around Hoseok. He was kind, funny, and genuine in a way that made me feel like I could let my guard down.

Eventually, after we’d eaten our fill and were lounging in our seats, Hoseok pulled out his phone again. "Come on, let’s take a photo," he suggested, grinning. "You know, for the memories."

I nodded with a smile and he grabbed his phone, opening the camera. We both leaned in, the grill between us, holding our drinks up like we were toasting. "Best birthday gift ever," Hoseok said dramatically as the picture snapped, before quickly typing something into his phone.

"Done!" he said proudly. "I posted it to my close friends on Kakao Talk. You know, just in case anyone wants to know how I spent my special days."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You’re crazy."

"I know," he said with a wink, taking another drink from his glass. "But seriously, Y/N, this has been fun. Thanks for asking me to come out tonight. You’re a lot of fun to hang out with."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "Of course. I’m glad we did this. It’s been way too long since I’ve had a night like this myself."

"Same here," Hoseok said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime."

As the night wound down to an end, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment. It had been a good night, and it felt like I’d finally had a chance to breathe again. The pressure I’d been carrying, the weight of my thoughts about Yoongi and everything that had happened, seemed to lighten a little as I had sat there across from Hoseok, laughing and eating with no other worries.

When the bill arrived, I was quick to grab it, remembering my promise. "It’s on me tonight," I said, pulling my card out before Hoseok could protest. I shook my head, giving him a playful look. "I owe you dinner, remember?"

He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll let you have your moment." He watched me pay, his expression softening into something more genuine. "But next time, I’m the one picking the place and bill."

"Deal," I said, with a smirk. "But only if it’s something equally as good as tonight."

"Haha, I’ll try," he replied, still laughing.

As we walked out of the restaurant, we decided that the evening had been a success, and that we would definitely plan another time to hang out. It was nice to have a real moment with him, away from all the stress and confusion, it had been exactly what I needed, an evening of laughter, food, and friendship. And for that, I was thankful. ***

The next day, I walked into the studio feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My relationship with Yoongi seemed to had softened after yesterday, and dinner with Hoseok had been a bright spot in an otherwise chaotic schedule. I was ready to tackle the second track with a fresh perspective.

As always, Yoongi was already in the studio when I arrived, sitting at the mixing desk, adjusting levels with his usual quiet focus. He acknowledged me with a small nod as I set up my things. His demeanour seemed normal at first, calm and business like.

We dove into the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. At first, everything felt fine, normal even. But as the hours ticked by, Yoongi’s feedback became sharper, his tone more clipped.

“Can you take this seriously?” he snapped suddenly after I made a suggestion about the arrangement.

I looked up, startled. “I am taking this seriously. What’s going on with you today? You seemed fine yesterday.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said curtly, not looking at me. His fingers tapped at the keyboard with more force than necessary. “You just need to focus more on the job you’re supposed to do.”

I frowned, confused by his sudden change in attitude. “We’re making progress,” I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice calm. “I’m confident we’ll meet the deadline.”

Yoongi spun his chair to face me, his eyes narrowing. “If you really cared about the deadline, you would focus on the work instead of going out to dinner with Hoseok and wasting your energy there.”

His words hit like a slap. I blinked, completely taken aback. “How do you even know about the dinner?”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He posted it on Kakao Talk. All the guys were talking about it in the group chat.”

I froze, trying to process what he was saying. Of course Hoseok had shared it, but it was a perfectly innocent dinner, and he’d been excited about it. Still, I felt a strange pang of guilt under Yoongi’s intense gaze.

“I invited him because I felt bad about going to his birthday party without bringing a gift,” I explained, my voice steady but defensive. “I just wanted to make up for it.”

Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable. “It’s interesting,” he said coolly, “how close you are with him. I’m the one you work with every day. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you?”

I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Before I could gather my thoughts, Yoongi waved a hand dismissively. “Never mind. Let’s just get back to work.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to make sense of his reaction, but his posture was closed off, his focus fully on the screen in front of him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my notes and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.

The rest of the session felt strained. Yoongi’s usual calm, measured feedback was replaced with sharp, almost impatient remarks. It wasn’t just the work, something else was clearly bothering him, but I couldn’t figure out what.

Then, halfway through a take, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. Without a word, he stood and began gathering his things.

“What’s going on?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Nothing,” he said shortly, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s cut this short today.”

“Yoongi—” I started, but he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, his tone final.

And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the studio. I stared at the door for a long moment, my emotions a mix of confusion and frustration. Whatever had just happened felt personal, even though I couldn’t understand why.

As I packed up my things, my mind kept circling back to his words, to the way he’d looked at me. You don’t see us going to dinner, do you? What did that even mean? Why did it sound like he cared, like it bothered him?

Shaking my head, I gathered my bag and left the studio. No matter how much I wanted to make sense of it, I wasn’t going to let Yoongi’s mood derail the progress we were making, or my own peace of mind. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t about to let this strange tension get in the way.

*** The next day, Yoongi and I exchanged only a few words when I arrived at the studio. His mood seemed calmer than yesterday, though still a little distant. I decided not to push it.

We worked steadily through the day, both of us falling into the rhythm of our tasks. It wasn’t awkward, just focused, like two professionals determined to meet their goal. The hours passed in a blur of music, notes, and adjustments. By the time Yoongi looked up from the computer, his face was lit with mild surprise.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered, glancing at the clock. “It’s late,” rubbing the back of his neck. “We should stop here for today. It’s good progress.”

I nodded and stood up, but as soon as I tried to take a step, my legs wobbled beneath me. I reached out to steady myself against the desk, my vision spinning slightly.

Yoongi was already on his feet, stepping toward me with concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I think I’m just a little dizzy. Now that I think about it… I didn’t even eat lunch.”

Without a word, he reached for my wrist and tugged gently. “Let’s go.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, caught off guard. “Go where?”

“To eat,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I tried to protest as he led me out of the studio and toward his car. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll grab something on the way home.”

Yoongi ignored me, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, and he shut the door before walking around to the driver’s side.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I glanced at him a few times, wondering why he was going out of his way like this, but his expression was unreadable.

We arrived at a small, cosy restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. Yoongi parked the car and got out without a word, waiting for me to follow.

Inside, the warm lighting and inviting atmosphere made me relax a little. We were seated at a corner table, and soon, the smell of grilled meat and savoury dishes filled the air.

“About yesterday,” he started, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.

I glanced up, momentarily stunned. He wasn’t looking at me; instead, his gaze was fixed on his plate, as if the words were hard to push out.

“I was out of line,” he admitted, exhaling sharply, almost like the confession itself was a weight lifted.

I blinked, my chopsticks hovering mid-air. Yoongi rarely, if ever, admitted fault. This was unexpected.

“I took a lot of things out on you,” he continued, his tone laced with a hint of self-reproach. His chopsticks moved idly, pushing food around on his plate as if it could somehow distract him from the vulnerability of the moment. “Things that weren’t your fault. And for that, I’m sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasn’t the stoic, sharp-tongued producer I’d been working with for weeks. This was Yoongi stripped of his usual defences, and it threw me off balance.

“You... You’re apologizing?” I finally said, a mix of disbelief and teasing slipping into my tone.

His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“I mean, how can I not?” I said, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms in mock astonishment. “Min Yoongi admitting he’s wrong? I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t get used to it.”

Despite his attempt at brushing it off, I could tell the apology mattered to him. He wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean, and the effort behind his words wasn’t lost on me.

“Look,” he continued after a moment, his voice steadying. “Yesterday... I just have been under a lot of pressure, and I let it get to me. That wasn’t fair to you. You’ve been working hard, and I should’ve recognized that.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice softer now. “That means a lot.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between us melting away. As the meal went on, we started to relax, trading small talk about work and life. Yoongi even ordered a bottle of wine, and soon we were sipping glasses of it, the conversation growing lighter.

For the first time, it felt like I was seeing a different side of him, one that wasn’t guarded or buried in his work. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the studio, the deadlines, and everything else that had been hanging over us.

By the end of the night, my cheeks ached from laughing, a rare, warm contentment spreading through me. Yoongi had surprised me, not just with his apology, but with the way he let his guard down, even if just a little. Maybe he wasn’t as closed off as I’d assumed. Maybe there was more to him than I’d ever expected.

As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted us. "Hey, you can’t drive now since you’ve had a drink," I said, glancing at Yoongi. "Should we call a taxi or something? Or maybe Hobi? I saw his stories, he was bored at home, he could probably come pick us up."

Yoongi’s expression shifted, and he immediately shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll handle it. I’m calling Jihoon." I raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment but let it slide. The warmth from the alcohol in my system faded quickly, leaving me shivering slightly in the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.

Yoongi noticed. “It’s getting cold,” he said, almost to himself. Before I could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

The unexpected gesture made me pause. The weight of the jacket and the faint scent of his cologne caught me off guard. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” I said softly.

He waved it off. “It’s fine. I’m not cold.”

I tilted my head, sceptical. “Really? Your hands must be freezing,” I said, blowing warm air over my own hands and rubbing them together in a futile attempt to warm them.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to my hands, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his hands gently over mine. The sudden warmth of his touch stopped me in my tracks.

His hands were warm, enveloping mine completely. I glanced up at him, startled. He didn’t say anything, his gaze locked on mine, intense yet unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there, connected by something unspoken.

My breath hitched, the moment heavy with tension neither of us dared to break. But before it could go any further, the sound of a taxi pulling up snapped us back to reality.

“Jihoon’s here,” Yoongi said, his voice steady as he stepped back, letting my hands go.

I quickly pulled my hands behind my back, hiding the tingling warmth that lingered from his touch. Jihoon stepped out of the car, waving casually as he approached.

“Thanks for coming,” Yoongi said, handing him the keys to his car.

“No problem,” Jihoon replied with a grin. “You guys look like you had a good night.”

Yoongi nodded and gestured for me to get in the backseat. He opened the door for me, waiting until I was seated before climbing in beside me.

The ride was quiet, with Jihoon humming along to the radio in the front seat. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling as I replayed the events of the night. The warmth of Yoongi’s jacket around my shoulders and the memory of his hands over mine lingered, leaving me more confused than ever.

Unable to resist, I flicked my gaze toward him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw catching my attention. Why does he have to look like that? My eyes drifted downward, landing on his hands resting casually on his lap. Those veiny, capable hands that had so effortlessly wrapped around mine earlier.

My face grew warm as I recalled the moment, a rush of heat spreading through me. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly snapped my gaze back to the window, determined not to look at him again for the rest of the ride. ‘Focus on something else, anything else,’ I told myself, even as my heart stubbornly refused to settle. When we pulled up in front of my place, Jihoon parked smoothly, and Yoongi stepped out of the car before I could say anything. He stood there for a moment, looking composed as ever, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

“Bye,” he said simply, his voice even but low enough to make my stomach flip. “See you tomorrow.”

I managed a small smile. “Okay. Bye.”

He watched me walk to my door, and when I turned back for a second, he was already getting back into the car. Jihoon gave a small wave before driving off, leaving me standing there, suddenly alone.

Once inside, I leaned against the door, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a whirlwind. Dinner, the jacket, his hands over mine... It was all too much. I sighed, pulling the jacket off to hang it up, only to freeze mid-motion.

“Oh no.” My voice echoed in the quiet space. His jacket. I still had it.

I grabbed my phone, typing quickly.

Me: I just realized I still have your jacket. Did you guys leave already?

His reply came faster than I expected.

Yoongi: It’s fine. You can give it back another day.

I stared at the screen, his words making me bite my lip. For a moment, I debated responding, but what else was there to say? Sighing, I put my phone down and folded the jacket neatly. The faint scent of him lingered, a mix of something warm and clean, distinctly Yoongi.

I groaned softly, shaking my head. “Don’t overthink it.”

But as I walked away, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, my flushed cheeks betraying my effort to play it cool. ***

The next day, everything felt smoother. The tension from the past week seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a productive atmosphere in the studio. Yoongi and I worked through the second track effortlessly, the beats and lyrics falling into place with surprising speed. By lunchtime, we had made significant progress, and the track was nearly perfect. Yoongi gave a brief nod of approval before leaning back in his chair.

"One more to go," he said, his tone casual, but I could tell he was feeling a sense of accomplishment too.

Just then, the door to the studio opened with a loud creak, and Hoseok walked in, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted us.

"Hey, look at you two," he said, his voice light. "I come in, and it’s all quiet. Something going on huh?"

Yoongi and I exchanged a glance. "The second track is done, so we're almost there. One more track, and the album’s done."

Hoseok leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening slightly. "Damn, it’s hard to believe we’re almost there." His eyes flickered toward Yoongi, then back at me. "I’m excited, but... also a little nervous. You know, with everything happening soon."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. "What’s going on? What are you talking about?"

Hoseok sighed dramatically, walking further into the room. "Well, since you two are now so close to wrapping up, I need to tell you something." He sat down on the edge of a nearby desk, his eyes locking on me. "I’m going to the military soon."

For a moment, there was silence as I processed the information. My stomach dropped slightly as the reality of it set in. "Wait, you’re leaving already?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could think.

Hoseok smiled gently, his eyes a little softer than usual. "Yeah. It’s going to happen soon. So..." He leaned forward, his tone turning playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "I’m going to use that to guilt-trip you two into hanging out with me tomorrow night. I’m hosting a little get-together at my place. Come along, since you’ve worked hard on this album, you deserve a break. You know you want to. Let’s have one last hurrah before I disappear for a while."

Yoongi, who had been silent until now, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "You really think you can just guilt-trip us into going out?"

Hoseok nodded with a sly grin. "Yup. It’s my last chance to make you guys hang out with me before I go. Please?" He looked at both of us, his expression softening, almost pleading.

Yoongi shot me a glance, and I shrugged. "I mean, we’re done with the second track, so it wouldn’t hurt to let loose for a night."

Yoongi looked hesitant for a moment, but Hoseok wasn’t backing down. "Come on, it’s just one night. You can relax and have some fun. Besides, you two need a break, right?"

I chuckled, the tension in the room starting to melt. "Alright, alright. I’ll come, Hoseok. You don’t need to keep trying to guilt-trip us." Yoongi also nodded.

Hoseok’s face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. You won’t regret it. I’m inviting a few people, and we’ll just hang out, eat, talk, maybe play some games."

Yoongi grunted, but there was no denying the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Fine. One night. But don’t expect us to get drunk or anything."

Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Who said anything about getting drunk? I just want to spend some time together, that’s all. We’re all so busy, and before you know it, I’ll be gone."

He was right. As much as we all had our own things to focus on, this was a moment to come together before everything changed. And honestly, after working so hard on the album, I could use a little time to relax.

"Alright, we’re in. What time should we be there?" I asked, already feeling a little more at ease about it.

"7 PM. Don’t be late," Hoseok said with a wink. "I’m going to make sure there’s food, so just come hungry."

"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "See you tomorrow, then."

As Hoseok left the studio, I glanced over at Yoongi, who was already back to his work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite everything, the day had been productive, and now we were going to take some time for ourselves. I didn’t know how often I’d get moments like these, where things felt normal, light and easy.

"Guess we’re going to Hoseok’s," I said, trying to keep things casual.

Yoongi gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always, but there was a faint sense of relaxation in his posture. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered again, almost as if to convince himself.

***

The next day, Yoongi and I had somehow hit a streak, two days in a row of working together without any tension. We finished everything we had planned for the day, and as the evening rolled around, we were both in a surprisingly good mood.

As the last song for the day played out, I looked up from my computer and caught Yoongi’s eye.

"Guess that’s a wrap for today," I said, stretching out my arms. "See you at the party, yeah?"

Yoongi gave me a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, see you there."

I stood up to grab my things, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. It had been a long time since we’d gotten along this well, and I wasn’t going to overthink it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to relax.

"Try not to get too drunk," I teased lightly as I started toward the door.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Could say the same thing to you.” "Uh-huh," I shot back, laughing as I left the room. "Sure."

As I walked out, I could feel the lightness in my step. For once, it felt like things were moving in the right direction. The night ahead felt full of possibilities, even if it was just hanging out with the rest of the team.

When I got home, I quickly changed into something casual, not wanting to overdo it for Hoseok’s party. I kept it simple, a pair of jeans and a loose top. Around 7 PM, I made my way to Hoseok’s place, and when I arrived, I found the others already there.

The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, the smell of food filling the air. The place was buzzing with laughter and easy conversation. I caught sight of Yoongi sitting at the corner of the room, his usual calm demeanour in place, but there was something different about him tonight. His hair was styled, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to fit him just right, accentuating his broad shoulders. There was an easy confidence in his posture, and as I studied him for a moment, I realized he looked… hot.

I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to get caught staring. The last thing I needed was to get all flustered over him again. I turned my attention to the rest of the room and spotted Hoseok in the middle of a conversation with a few other guests. He seemed to be doing his usual thing, laughing and talking animatedly, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to interrupt just yet.

Instead, I made my way over to where Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were chatting near the food table. They were all mid-laugh when I approached, and Jungkook waved me over with a grin.

“Y/N! Come join us, we were just talking about the new choreography for a music video,” he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Oh? What is it about this choreography?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Taehyung leaned in with a mischievous grin. “We’re learning this really complicated move that involves, like, spinning and flipping, but it looks ridiculous when we try it,” he said, laughing.

Jimin jumped in. “Taehyung’s over-exaggerating, it’s not that bad. But we’re definitely working on something new for the next video, and it’s going to be fun.”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to rehearse a lot,” Jungkook added with a playful smirk. “Taehyung might need extra practice though,” he teased.

I chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll all manage. You guys are pros, after all.”

Taehyung pouted but then grinned again. “Yeah, but you should see us try. We look like a bunch of drunk chickens. Maybe we’ll film it for behind-the-scenes footage.”

“Please do, I’d love to see that,” I replied, laughing along with them.

As we were talking, I noticed Hoseok making his way over with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands together and announced, “Alright, everyone, I think it’s time for a drinking game! Who’s in? It’s going to be fun, I promise!”

Jimin immediately jumped up, grinning. “I’m in! Let’s do this!”

“Count me in too,” Taehyung said, raising his hand. “I’m ready to win this game.”

I glanced at Jungkook, who gave a playful nod. “Let’s go. This should be interesting.”

With that, the four of us headed over to the designated table where the drinks were already set up. Hoseok was already grinning, ready to start the game, and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited about just having fun and not overthinking things.

The game started with some light-hearted activities, rapid-fire questions, and silly tasks that made everyone laugh. It was a great way to break the ice, and before long, we were all feeling more relaxed, enjoying the playful atmosphere.

Then, the game shifted into something a bit more daring: Love Shots. The concept was simple: when the bottle spun, it landed on a couple who had to take a shot together. The catch? You had to show the best “couple moment” before drinking.

I glanced around at everyone as the bottle spun, my heart racing a little at the thought of it landing on someone I knew. Of course, it landed on me and Hoseok first. He flashed me a grin that was as mischievous as it was charming.

"Well, looks like we're the first couple for the night, huh?" he said, winking.

I laughed and leaned in slightly. "Guess so. Let’s make this quick, yeah?"

We took our shot in sync, laughing after, and I couldn’t help but notice the way Hoseok’s eyes sparkled when he was having fun. It made me a little giddy.

The game continued, and once again, the bottle spun, this time landing on Hoseok and me again. A few people around the table groaned, teasing us about being the “official couple.” We just grinned at each other, ready for the next round.

I quickly glanced over at Yoongi, who had been quiet all night, sitting at the table but not participating. He wasn’t drinking either. His gaze was locked on Hoseok and me, and there was a strange tension in his expression. He wasn’t judging, but he wasn’t engaging either. It was hard to ignore, and I wondered if he was actually bothered by us being partnered up for the game.

Earlier, I had briefly talked to him when the game first started. I asked why he wasn’t drinking, and he had simply said, “Not feeling like it tonight.” There was something about his tone that made me want to ask more, but I didn’t push it. He wasn’t the type to open up unless he was ready.

"Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn again!" Taehyung called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on Hoseok and me again. We both burst into laughter, but this time I noticed Yoongi’s eyes briefly flicker towards us. He didn’t look away, but he didn’t speak either. He just observed, his hands folded in front of him as the game carried on.

Hoseok, being a bit more playful, shot me a grin and said, “Guess we’re really the perfect couple, huh?”

I smirked, playing along. “Yeah, looks like I’m stuck with you, Hobi.”

We drank again, and I could feel the warmth of the alcohol creeping through me, loosening my nerves and making everything feel lighter. But despite the fun, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Yoongi’s quiet presence at the table was adding a certain weight to the game. His lack of participation made the contrast between us even more noticeable.

The game finally came to an end after what felt like hours of spinning bottles and laughing until our sides hurt. But as the night wore on, a lot of people were either passed out, waiting for their turn, or feeling too sleepy to continue. I noticed the energy in the room starting to wind down, and with work to do tomorrow, I figured it was best to leave.

I stood up, scanning the room for Hoseok. I spotted him laughing with a few of the other guests, his eyes bright and full of energy despite the late hour. I made my way over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey, Hobi,” I said, offering him a warm smile. “I think I’m going to head out now. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Hoseok turned to me with a disappointed but understanding expression. “Aww, already? Well, it was really fun having you here. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

I shook my head, grateful for the offer but knowing he had a lot of guests to attend to. “Nah, you stay and enjoy. I’ll just grab a taxi. I’ll be fine.”

Before Hoseok could respond, there was a shift in the air. Yoongi, who had been quiet all evening, stood up suddenly from his spot at the table. His voice was calm, but his words caught us both off guard.

“I’m leaving. I’ll take Y/N with me,” he said, tone firm but casual.

The room fell a bit quieter at his declaration. Hoseok blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Yoongi to step in. There was an unspoken tension as we all stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react.

I quickly turned to Hoseok, offering him one last smile. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Thanks for everything tonight.”

Hoseok smiled back, still a little surprised by Yoongi’s sudden intervention, but he nodded. “Alright, take care. See you soon.”

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I quickly made my way toward the door, following Yoongi. I couldn’t help but feel a little flustered. What just happened? Why did Yoongi suddenly decide to take me home?

“Yoongi, wait up!” I called out, catching up to him as he made his way outside.

Yoongi was already ahead, his long strides purposeful. When I caught up with him, I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… you didn’t have to do this, you know…”

He didn’t look at me as he continued walking, but his voice was calm. “It’s fine. You’re not going to take a taxi alone this late. It’s safer this way.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something in the way he said it that made me not want to push back. Instead, I just followed him outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we made our way to the car.

I had no idea what this meant, or what was running through Yoongi’s mind, but for now, I was just grateful that he had decided to take me home.

The drive back home was quiet but comfortable, with only the hum of the car filling the space between us. It wasn’t awkward, though. There was something peaceful about it, something unspoken that made the silence feel easy.

When we arrived at my apartment block, Yoongi stepped out of the car first, walking around to open the door for me.

“Thanks,” I said softly, already preparing to say my goodbyes as I stepped out.

But before I could, Yoongi spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. “Actually… Can I have my jacket back?”

I blinked in confusion, not entirely sure I’d heard him right. “Seriously?” I asked, laughing a little at the unexpected request. “You’re really asking for it back now?”

He glanced at me with a small shrug, his eyes hiding whatever thoughts were going through his mind. “It’s cold,” he said simply.

I let out a sigh. “Okay, follow me. I took it from the dry cleaners today, and I was planning on bringing it to you tomorrow.”

I stepped inside my apartment, Yoongi following and standing halfway between the living room and the corridor. I quickly scanned the room, searching for the bag with the jacket in it. The silence stretched on as I fumbled through a few things, but Yoongi broke it, his voice unexpectedly blunt.

“So, you and Hobi, huh?”

I paused for a second, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. “What about me and Hobi?”

“Well, all the dinners, the flirting today with the love shots… is there anything I should know about?” His gaze was steady, but I could see something flicker in his eyes.

I shook my head, trying to keep my tone light. “No, we’re just friends. He’s actually a nice person who respects me and my work.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just me overthinking things, but Yoongi’s next words caught me off guard. “But I thought these past few days we were on good terms as well.”

I felt a little defensive at that. “But I’m not working with Hobi. I’m not under a contract with him.”

Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied. “Besides all that, I still felt like we could be more than just coworkers.”

I blinked, not sure if I understood him right. “What? Do you want us to be friends?” I joked, trying to deflect the tension.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed slightly, but I continued “Do you even hear yourself right now? If I had told Min Yoongi two months ago that he’d be asking me to be friends, he would’ve laughed in my face.”

Yoongi’s expression darkened for a moment. “Hell no, I don’t want to be friends with you.”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the sudden heat rising to my cheeks. “Pff, then I don’t want to be friends with you either,” I shot back, scoffing. “Besides, you’re the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one sulking about me being friends with Hobi and not with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with irritation. “I’m not sulking because you are friends with him, I am because you are close to a guy that’s not me.” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

“What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

Yoongi took a step closer, his expression darkening. “Let’s cut the crap. You’re telling me that after everything that’s been happening these past two months, the tension, the lingering touches… you never felt anything?” His eyes were locked onto mine, searching for something in them.

My breath hitched in my throat, but before I could respond, he continued. “And after what happened at Hobi’s birthday party… you didn’t move away from me. Hell, you were practically begging me to kiss you with the way you were looking at me. Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about it too.”

I froze, my mind racing, trying to process his words. I hadn’t expected him to bring up that night, let alone accuse me of anything. My pulse quickened as I searched his face, unsure of what to say. Yoongi watched me closely, waiting for my response, but all I could do was stare at him, caught in the web of his words.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered, stepping back slightly, trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding in my chest. Yoongi’s gaze was intense, his expression unreadable, and I couldn’t help but feel exposed under the weight of his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining all of this? I didn’t want to admit it, but everything he said was starting to make sense, whether I liked it or not.

Yoongi didn’t seem satisfied with my denial. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine with a new intensity. “Oh really?” he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a hint of something sharper in it now. “Then tell me to stop.”

Before I could process the situation, before I could even think about what to say, he was on me. His lips crashed into mine with a sudden force that caught me off guard. The kiss was hard, desperate, as if he was trying to prove something to both of us. His hands gripped my arms firmly, pulling me in closer.

For a few seconds, I froze, not sure how to respond. His lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my mind race, but my body just… didn’t react. I couldn’t. My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts tangled in confusion. Was this real? Was he really kissing me?

Yoongi pulled back suddenly, his hands dropping from my arms. He stepped away, his expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. His breathing was heavier now, and he seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, a sign, maybe, of whether or not I felt the same.

“I— maybe I misunderstood,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter, as if the weight of his actions was suddenly dawning on him.

His words trailed off into a shaky breath, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath, everything hanging in the air between us. I stood there, wide-eyed, my lips tingling from the kiss, not knowing how to process what had just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to the ground for a second, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “Fuck…I’m sorry… I actually thought…” He cut himself off, looking at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction, like he was waiting for me to say something, anything.

The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy, and I could feel my chest tightening with every passing second. I couldn’t let him walk away thinking he had made a mistake. I couldn’t just stand there and let this moment slip away.

Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my hands shaking slightly, but I reached for him. I grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to me until there was no space left between us. My heart was still racing, but this time, there was no hesitation. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his with the same urgency that he had given me.

Yoongi stiffened at first, but after a second, he responded, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His kiss was deep, full of everything he hadn’t said, all the things that had been building up between us. His lips moved against mine, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, if that was even possible.

I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his heart seemed to be racing just as fast as mine. The world outside of us faded, and for the first time in a long time, all I could think about was him, Yoongi, and this moment we were sharing.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I was left reeling. My mind was spinning, but there was something in the way Yoongi looked at me, something that made it all feel right, even if it didn’t quite make sense yet. I took a step back, trying to catch my breath, still processing everything that had just happened. "What’s happening?" I asked softly, my voice a little unsteady. "Are you sure tomorrow you're not just going to act like none of this happened?"

Yoongi didn’t say anything right away. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully, like he was searching for the right response.

Then, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us once more. His eyes were intense, but there was a softness in them now, something that made me feel like I wasn’t just some passing thought. "Nah," Yoongi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me show you how much I've been stopping myself from anything happening."

Before I could process his words, his hands were on me again, pulling me back toward him with an urgency that caught me off guard. He kissed me again, this time it wasn’t rushed, but full of something more than just desire.

Yoongi’s hands were gentle yet firm as he backed me toward the living room, the heat of his body practically radiating against mine. I could feel my pulse quicken with every step he took. When my backside finally met the armrest of the sofa, a shock of electricity shot through me, my heart hammering in my chest.

He didn’t give me a moment to breathe before his hands were on me again, this time lifting me effortlessly, laying me down onto the sofa. I gasped slightly as I landed, and Yoongi followed, his body pressing over mine, his presence suffocating in the best way.

His eyes never left mine, and the way he hovered above me, his weight just barely touching me, made my stomach twist with anticipation. "Are you gonna tell me to stop, Y/N?" Yoongi's voice was rough, but there was something almost challenging in it. He leaned in slightly, the tip of his nose grazing mine as he waited for my response. "Or are you actually gonna admit how much you want this? That this is actually happening."

I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. I was caught between every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, and another side of me that wanted to give in, to feel everything he was offering without hesitation.

His lips hovered just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, making my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to understand what this all meant.

The silence between us was almost suffocating now, the tension thick as I weighed my next move. Yoongi didn’t pull away, didn’t pressure me further. He just waited, giving me space, but still holding me in place with that unyielding gaze of his.

For a moment, I thought I might choke on the words I wanted to say. But the truth was, I already knew. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

"I—" My voice faltered, and I quickly cleared my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "I want this," I admitted, the words coming out breathlessly, almost as if they were ripped from me. It was scary, letting the truth hang in the air between us, but it felt... necessary.

Yoongi’s eyes softened, just a little. He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine once more, but this time, it wasn’t a question. It was an answer, his answer to everything we had left unsaid.

Despite the clothes still between us, I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer, craving more of the intimacy building between us. Yoongi’s voice was low and dripping with desire as he whispered, “Good, because I’ve been dying to know how you taste…”

Smirking, he lowered himself further, letting his breath ghost over my pants. My heart raced as I gave him a silent nod, granting permission. Slowly, he unzipped them, his movements deliberate and teasing. My breath hitched as he slid my pants down my legs, throwing them on the floor. Just as he hooked a finger under my panties to remove them, I gently stopped his hand.

“Wait…” I whispered, my voice shaky. Gathering what little confidence I had, I added, “It’s only fair you lose a piece of clothing too.”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. “Desperate to see me naked already, Y/N?” he teased.

“Huh, you’re the one who just claimed you’ve been dying to know how I—”

Before I could finish, Yoongi silenced me with a kiss, his lips rough and insistent, leaving me breathless. His tongue swept against mine, teeth grazing in just the right way. When he finally pulled back to let us catch our breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Smirking, he stood before me, his torso now bare, revealing his defined muscles despite the soft lines of his body.

“There. Happy now?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.

This man. Such a tease.

“Much better,” I quipped with a smirk of my own.

“Now, let me finish what I started,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. “Let you experience my famous tongue technology...…” His lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he lowered himself between my thighs, his hands trailing down to hook under the waistband of my panties. He slipped them down with tantalizing slowness, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Who calls—” I started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his tongue made its first bold stroke, fast and deliberate, over my folds. My head fell back against the sofa, a moan escaping before I could even think to stop it.

He didn’t give me time to recover. His tongue moved again, sweeping over me with precision, eliciting another sharp cry. Each stroke was firm, purposeful, and maddeningly good. My body arched into him, instinctively chasing the pleasure he so expertly provided.

“Yoongi,” I managed to whisper, my voice shaky and strained, but he didn’t respond, not with words at least. Instead, his lips and tongue continued their relentless exploration, the wet heat of his mouth driving me to the edge of reason.

My hands shot to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling lightly, not to guide him, but to ground myself. His name fell from my lips in fragmented pleas, each one blending into the next. His low hum of approval vibrated against me, sending an electric shock straight to my core.

He reached for one of my knees, pushing it further aside to open me up to him completely. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the shift only deepened the intensity of his attention. His tongue flicked, swirled, and teased, hitting every spot that made my body tremble.

The room was thick with the sound of my ragged breathing and unrestrained moans. Each cry seemed to fuel him, urging him on as his pace quickened. I gripped his hair tighter, the sensation building with every stroke. A hand reached for his shoulder, my nails grazing the smooth heat of his skin.

“Yoongi…” I whimpered, my voice shaky and raw, a desperate plea in the form of his name.

He pulled back briefly, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a devilish smirk. “That was to answer your question,” he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, collecting anything he’d missed, and the sight alone sent another wave of heat through me.

I couldn’t let him have the upper hand, not entirely. Tugging at his hair, I directed him back between my thighs. “Less talking,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, “more doing.”

He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against me as he dove back in without hesitation. This time, his movements were even more determined, his tongue working with an intensity that made me cry out. My body writhed against him, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me.

Yoongi’s hands gripped my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he worked his magic. His tongue alternated between long, teasing strokes and quick, precise flicks, sending me spiraling closer to the edge.

He was relentless, unyielding, and devastatingly good. Too good. If he could do this with just his tongue, the thought of what else he could do made my head spin. The heat pooling low in my belly grew hotter, tighter, until it felt like I might combust.

“Yoongi,” I gasped, my voice breaking as my body tensed beneath his touch. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Cum on my mouth, baby,” he murmured against me, his voice low and commanding, the vibrations sending me over the edge.

I shattered, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my head falling back as his name tore from my lips in a broken cry. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could feel was the overwhelming heat of pleasure washing over me.

He didn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me, drawing out every last tremor until I was trembling beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his face was smug, his lips glistening as he swiped his tongue over them again.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he murmured, and my cheeks flushed at his confession. How many times had this man fantasized about this? It wasn’t like I hadn’t entertained some dirty thoughts over the past weeks, but hearing him say it out loud, so unabashedly, felt different.

Before I could reply, Yoongi leaned back up and kissed me passionately, sharing the taste of myself on his lips. The kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine with deliberate slowness. Then he trailed wet kisses down to my neck, biting softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. It was possessive in the most exciting way.

As he toyed with the hem of my shirt, I decided to turn the tables. My hands moved to the waistband of his pants undoing his zipper. He froze for a moment, his eyes wide, searching mine. “Y/N… you don’t have to. Just because—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. His breath escaped in a shaky exhale at my words.

“Besides,” I teased, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear, “let me show you what other sounds these hands can produce.”

I bit my bottom lip as I pulled his pants down completely, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. My hand brushed over him, his length already hard and straining against the fabric. My fingers lightly grazed over him, stroking just enough to tease. Yoongi hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration.

“Y/N… don’t tease me,” he groaned, his voice thick with need.

“Me? Tease you?” I feigned innocence, grinning up at him as my hand continued its slow, deliberate motions. He let out a shaky breath, his hips instinctively bucking toward my touch.

I leaned up to capture his lips again, all while my hand maintained its slow, torturous rhythm. “Y/N…” Yoongi moaned, the sound low and drawn out. With that, I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. My hand wrapped around him, the heat and hardness startling me for a moment. Pre-cum was already dripping from his tip, and I swiped my thumb over it, spreading it along his length as he trembled beneath my touch.

His hips instinctively bucked forward, chasing the friction as a low groan escaped his lips. My fingers moved deliberately, starting with slow, measured strokes that made his thighs tense beneath me.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, a strained mixture of need and restraint.

I leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline before murmuring, “Relax.” My breath was hot against his skin, and I could feel the shudder it sent through his body.

One hand worked up and down his length, my palm twisting slightly with each stroke, while the other cupped and teased his balls, massaging them gently. His body responded to every touch, his muscles taut and trembling as he fought to stay in control.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.

The intimacy of it all had my own heart racing, my body reacting to the sight of him unraveling beneath me. My hand picked up speed, stroking him faster and firmer, my thumb gliding over his sensitive tip with each pass.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice rough and breathless.

“Good,” I teased, leaning in to kiss his collarbone, my lips trailing over the sharp lines of his neck. “That’s the idea.”

His hips lifted again, chasing the rhythm of my hand. His groans deepened, each one more desperate than the last. The sounds he made were intoxicating, sending heat pooling low in my belly.

“Y/N,” he gasped, his voice cracking slightly. One of his hands reached out, gripping my thigh tightly as though he needed something to anchor himself.

Yoongi eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a fiery intensity. “I’m—”

“I know,” I cut him off softly, my hand never slowing.

His half-lidded eyes met mine, his skin glistening with sweat. “Where…?” he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I went to my knees and opened my mouth, holding his gaze. His expression faltered for a split second, a mix of desperation and awe flashing across his face.

Yoongi adjusted slightly, taking his cock in his own hand, his body hovering over mine, and with a few more strokes, he spilled into my mouth. I took everything, swallowing it down as I maintained eye contact. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the slight tremble in his legs as I kissed the tip of his cock, making sure nothing was left behind.

When it was over, he sank down, his body pressing against mine. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Fuck, you’re incredible.” Yoongi’s hand trailed lazily across my skin, finding the thin strap of my bra under my shirt. “Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I’ll make sure you’re not wearing anything at all.”

He hooked a finger under the strap, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back against my skin with a soft smack. I gasped, half-laughing, and swatted at his chest, but he just grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching slightly before scanning the room. His pants and boxers lay crumpled on the floor a few steps away. “As much as I love this view,” he teased, casting a lingering look at me sprawled on the sofa now, “we might want to at least partially dress before someone accidentally walks in.” Rolling my eyes, even though I lived alone, I reached down to grab my panties, slipping them on with a quick movement. “Happy now?” I quipped, arching an eyebrow as he smirked at me.

“Not entirely,” he shot back smoothly, already heading to the smaller sofa across the room. He grabbed the folded blanket and returned to the larger couch where I laid, tossing it over us as he sat back down and pulled me toward him.

“And why is that?” I teased, arching a brow as I snuggled into his chest.

He smirked, his arms wrapping securely around me as he scooped me into a comfortable position against him. His warmth enveloped me, and I felt myself relaxing despite my teasing words.

“Because, I’ve been messing up so far,” he said, his voice soft but firm, “ but I’m not letting you go away this time.”

I blinked, startled by the quiet sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t just a playful remark; it felt like a promise, one that made my heart flutter and my chest tighten all at once.

“You’re stuck with me now, Y/N,” he added, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Hope you can handle that.”

I couldn’t help but smile, burying my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. “We’ll see,” I replied softly, my voice muffled away.

For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Wrapped in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.

***

The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of Yoongi’s embrace from last night was gone, replaced by the coolness of the sofa beneath me. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Everything about last night had felt surreal—like the universe had finally shifted into place. But now, as I sat up and looked around the room, it all felt like a dream.

My gaze darted to the floor, where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly, and the hallway where his shoes had been kicked off. They were gone. Every trace of him had vanished. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.

Did he regret this? Was it a mistake for him?

I couldn’t stop the questions from flooding my mind, each one louder and more insistent than the last. For me, it hadn’t been a mistake. Not even close. Last night had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a night that felt like it had shattered every barrier between us.

But had it meant the same to him?

Frustration began to bubble up, mixed with a touch of anger. If he had regrets, he should’ve said something. Leaving like this? That was low.

Determined not to let him get away with it, I marched to my room, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a casual shirt. If he thought he could disappear without a word, he had another thing coming. The moment I was tugging on my shoes, ready to storm out and demand answers, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.

I snatched it up, my frustration spilling over as I saw Minji’s name on the screen. Great, this better not be about work, I thought as I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said curtly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Minji’s tone was brisk but edged with concern.

“What do you mean?” I asked, more annoyed than curious.

Minji sighed heavily on the other end. “That’s good. You’re fine. I was worried for a second. Didn’t you hear? Someone raided HYBE last night. A crazy fan broke in and they believe they were trying to expose Suga’s album.”

“What?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in.

“Yeah, it’s all over the news this morning. Security’s gone into overdrive,” Minji continued. “Anyway, just wanted to check if you were caught up in any of it.”

“I have to go,” I said abruptly, hanging up before she could respond.

My mind raced. If HYBE had been raided and rumours about Yoongi’s album were true, then that meant he must be there. I grabbed my car keys and drove as fast as I could, keeping just within the speed limits. My mind buzzed with thoughts about Yoongi and everything Minji had said. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of HYBE.

I stepped inside, my pulse quickening as I made my way through the familiar halls. When I reached the studio, I stopped in my tracks. Yoongi was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadn’t noticed me yet, too absorbed in his conversation.

“Please make sure they’re caught and thoroughly questioned about what they saw,” he said, his tone firm but composed. Whoever he was speaking to replied, but I couldn’t make out the words.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know we had contracts here. Honestly, I don’t care about the album, it’s going to get released soon anyway. What matters is that Producer K’s information stays protected. Make sure no sensitive details leak, okay?” He paused to listen again. “Alright. Call me as soon as you have any updates.”

As he ended the call, his gaze finally landed on me. I was frozen in place, trying to process the past 24 hours, the intimacy, the sudden emptiness when I woke up, and now this chaos.

“Hey,” I said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on?”

Yoongi’s expression softened when he saw me, but the stress in his posture remained. He sighed and motioned for me to sit down, but I stayed standing, waiting for answers.

“Someone broke into HYBE last night,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. “They managed to get into a secure area. Luckily, nothing was taken, at least nothing physical, but there’s still a risk of leaks.”

I blinked, processing his words. “So… this morning—”

He cut me off with a sheepish smile. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you. When I got the call, I panicked. I didn’t even think, I just grabbed my stuff and rushed over here. I had to make sure everything was locked down. The NDAs, your information, everything. But I think we’re okay. Nothing seems to have been compromised.”

My chest loosened at his explanation, relief washing over me. “So… you didn’t leave because you regretted it?” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “It felt like… maybe you didn’t care about anything that happened yesterday.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer to me, closing the distance between us in just a few strides. “Ahh, baby,” he said, his tone filled with disbelief. “Are you kidding me? How could I ever regret it?”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft and lingering. The kiss was brief, but the warmth of it stayed with me. As he pulled back, he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his hands firm on my thighs as he lifted me.

“Yoongi!” I squealed, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he teased, his smirk deepening as he carried me toward the door. My back pressed against it as he gently pushed me, one of his hands leaving my body just long enough to twist the lock. The soft click echoed in the quiet room. His eyes flickered with something darker, more intense, as he leaned in closer.

“And don’t even think about doubting me again,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

Before I could respond, Yoongi moved us again, carrying me to the producer’s table, the one we’d spent countless hours working on together. He placed me on top of it, the cold surface pressing against my thighs. My body shifted slightly, the edge of the keyboard beneath me accidentally activating a few buttons with soft clicks and beeps.

A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he leaned over me, caging me in with his arms on either side. “Looks like we’re making more music, Producer K,” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

Immediately his lips captured mine, soft and demanding all at once. The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand threading into my hair to tilt my head for better access. I gasped against his mouth as his other hand slid down, gripping my waist firmly to keep me anchored to him.

The kiss was electric, slow, and yet so full of intensity it left me breathless. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a rhythm that made my heart race. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then slid up behind his neck, pulling him even closer.

Yoongi let out a low hum of approval, the sound vibrating against my lips. The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing second. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tugging gently before he soothed it with another kiss.

“You taste soo good,” he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and tantalizing. He kissed me again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase any lingering doubts from my mind.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” I asked, my voice laced with impatience and desire. Enough with the teasing, I wanted him, here and now.

A smirk played on his lips as he looked at me. “Yes, right here on this table,” he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

Slowly he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His dark eyes lingered on me as he kept his promise from the night before. He leaned down, gently biting one of my bra straps and pulling it down with his teeth, the act equal parts sensual and possessive. Then his hand slid the other strap off my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my skin in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.

His hands unclasped my bra, letting it fall away completely. The cool air of the room ghosted over my now-bare skin, goosebumps forming in its wake. His gaze was hungry, appreciative, as he took me in.

He didn’t waste a moment, cupping both of my breasts in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them until they hardened under his touch. Leaning in, he wrapped his lips around one, his tongue swirling and flicking while his other hand kneaded the other.

A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. My legs around his waist instinctively pull his body closer and flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal pressed against my clothed core, teasing me further.

Yoongi groaned softly against my skin, his breath hot as he alternated between kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening as he grinned down at me.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. He stood upright and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.

The sight of his toned chest and the way his muscles moved as he tossed the shirt aside made my breath hitch. My hands instinctively trailed over his bare skin, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms.

He proceeded to slide my pants down along with my panties in one smooth motion, leaving me bare beneath him. My cheeks flushed as I turned my head to the side, shying away from his gaze. The reality of the moment hit me, this was happening, in the studio no less. Something I had never done before, especially not with a co-worker. I had always been professional, keeping clear boundaries. But Yoongi? He was different. He was so much more.

Before my thoughts could spiral further, two of his fingers gently grasped my chin, tilting my face back toward him. His dark eyes softened as they met mine, a faint smile curling his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

He leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips moving against mine with a passion that made me forget all my worries. When he pulled away, I was left breathless, my body trembling.

Without breaking eye contact, he stepped back and slid his boxers down, his cock springing free in a way that had my stomach tightening with need. He reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, so confident and focused, made my mouth water.

I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him. “Please…” I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.

Yoongi smirked at my plea as he rolled the condom over his length slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved closer, his cock teasing my entrance as he pressed the tip against me, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild.

Then he pulled back, a devilish grin on his lips.

“Yoongi!” I cried out, my hands gripping his shoulders in frustration. Yoongi chuckled softly at my frustration, his deep voice resonating in the quiet studio. “Patience, baby,” he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I want to savour this.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but my body was anything but patient. My legs tightened around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He gave in just a little, letting his tip press further against my entrance, his cock teasing me.

“Please…” I whimpered again, my voice trembling.

“God, you’re so needy,” he murmured, but there was no mockery in his tone, only a mixture of desire and affection. He pressed forward slightly, just enough to stretch me, and the sensation made my breath hitch.

He paused, his hand brushing over my cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his gaze searching mine.

“Yes,” I breathed, nodding. “I need you, Yoongi… all of you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pushed into me, his cock filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he slid himself fully inside me, both of us pausing to catch our breaths.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he began to move.

The first few thrusts were slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that made me lose all sense of time and place. My moans filled the room, blending with the soft sounds of his breathless grunts and the quiet creak of the table beneath us.

“Yoongi…” I gasped, my hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. His movements grew more intense, each thrust hitting deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

His hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle, and the new position made me cry out. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

I clung to him, my body arching into his as the tension built to an unbearable peak. Every movement, every touch, was driving me closer to the edge. His name fell from my lips in a breathless chant, and I could feel his body tensing too, his control slipping with each passing second.

“I’m close,” I managed to gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed my forehead against his.

“Not so fast…” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. In one swift motion, he pulled out completely, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down and guiding me to turn around. His hand on my back guided me to lean forward, making my chest press against the cool surface of the studio desk. I tried to make myself stable, hands roaming over the desk for support when I accidentally hit a button on the keyboard that sounded like the recording audio one.

“Yoongi, I think I—”

“Leave it on,” he growled, his voice dripping with lust. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips firmly as he aligned himself behind me. Without another word, he thrust into me again, harder this time, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.

The new angle was overwhelming, his movements fast and relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body. My hands scrambled for something better to hold on to, finding the edge of the desk as I felt my climax building faster than ever before.

“Yoongi,” I moaned, my voice trembling. “I’m going to—”

“Me too,” he groaned, his pace quickening. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me back to meet every thrust.

The tension inside me snapped like a rubber band, and I shattered around him, a cry escaping my lips as waves of pleasure consumed me. His name fell from my lips in broken gasps, my body trembling with the force of my release.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hissed behind me, his movements growing erratic as he followed me over the edge. With a low groan, he stilled, his hands gripping me tightly as he emptied himself into the condom.

We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breaths as the studio filled with the sound of our laboured breathing. Yoongi’s hand slid up my back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss between my shoulders.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice softer than before, filled with a mix of affection and satisfaction.

I turned my head slightly to glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering haze of pleasure. “You’re pretty perfect yourself,” I replied breathlessly.

His lips quirked into a smirk as he helped me straighten up, his hands still lingering on my waist. “You keep driving me crazy when there’s work to be done,” he said, his voice still low, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Work?” I teased, arching an eyebrow.

We both laughed softly, the tension replaced by a comfortable warmth as we started dressing up together. After fixing ourselves up, Yoongi and I sat back at the desk, quietly adjusting to the shift from intimacy to professionalism.

A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I glanced at the screen. The red "REC" light was still blinking, the audio still rolling.

"Wait," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. "Yoongi... the recording…"

Yoongi's gaze followed mine to the screen.

I stifled a laugh, trying to process the situation. "We... we didn’t just—"

"We did," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the mouse, clicking the stop button on the recording. The sudden silence felt almost louder than the chaos that had just unfolded.

There was a long pause before either of us spoke, and then Yoongi burst into a fit of laughter, the tension completely evaporating. "I can't believe you hit the record by accident," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "That’s... that's going to be something to remember."

I shook my head, laughing despite the embarrassment that was slowly creeping in. "Oh my god, I didn’t mean to! What if—what if someone listens to that? You have to delete it…"

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. "Relax, I’m pretty sure the only one who’s ever going to hear that is you... and maybe me, when I’m in need of some... inspiration."

I shot him a mock glare. "You’re terrible."

But the laughter between us continued, as if we’d both just acknowledged the absurdity of it all. "Alright, alright," I said, regaining some composure. "So, do we actually erase it... or keep it as a very private memory?"

Yoongi eyed the screen for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we keep it," he said with a smirk. "Just in case we ever need to prove who’s really in charge around here."

I raised an eyebrow, a challenge in my smile. "I still have to work with you..."

Yoongi leaned closer, his smirk widening. "We can always record something else to balance it out."

My face flushed again, but this time, it was the shared humour that made the tension feel lighter. The teasing, the jokes, the way we were able to slip back into this comfortable space of banter, it made the moment feel normal again. *** As time passed, Yoongi and I quietly navigated our secret relationship, keeping things low-key while indulging in countless late-night dates after work. Between stolen moments in the studio, quick getaways to his place, and intimate sessions that blurred the line between work and personal time, we found our rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, every fleeting glance became a quiet promise, a bond that only grew stronger despite the secrecy. The sexual tension between us was undeniable, and we gave into it time and time again, the boundaries between us disappearing with every heated exchange. April 17 arrived, and Yoongi and I were standing in J-Hope’s living room. It was a quiet evening before the storm of emotions that would come the next day, J-Hope was leaving for the military, and Yoongi was going to see him off tomorrow. As much as I wanted to be there for the farewell, I knew I couldn’t. Not yet. My identity had to still stay hidden, my relationship with Yoongi too, at least for now.

Yoongi caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he walked over to where I was standing by the window. "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his gaze.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the tension I felt. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow," I said, glancing over at J-Hope, who was still chatting with some of the others in the room. "You’re going to see him off right?"

"Of course," Yoongi replied, his voice warm but heavy with the realization that things were changing. "He’s my brother. I’m not going to let him go without saying goodbye properly."

I nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "I wish I could be there, but... you know why I can’t."

"I know," Yoongi murmured, squeezing my hand. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "It’s just... it’s tough for both of us, huh?"

I nodded again, my chest tight. "Yeah. It’s not just about J-Hope going. It’s about the secrecy, the not being able to show anyone who we are... it gets exhausting."

Before Yoongi could respond, J-Hope called out from across the room, his voice teasing. "Yoongi, Y/N! You two are awfully quiet over there. What’s going on?"

I looked up and forced a grin, trying to act casual. "Nothing, just—"

J-Hope walked over with a playful glint in his eyes, crossed his arms. "You know, I’ve always seen the tension between you two," he said with a teasing smirk. "That’s why I kept pushing Y/N to hang out with me when Yoongi was around. I had to give him a little nudge."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by J-Hope’s words. "Really? You were the one pushing her?"

I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, it worked, didn’t it?"

J-Hope chuckled, but his smile softened as he looked between the two of us. "I get it now. You two are like an open secret. But listen," he continued, his tone more serious, "tomorrow, when I’m gone, make sure you both take care of yourselves. Yoongi, I know you’ll look after her. And Y/N, be good to him, alright?"

I nodded, the words heavy in my chest. "I will. You just... you just be safe, okay? Come back to us soon."

Yoongi echoed my sentiment, his voice steady and sincere. "Take care of yourself, man. We’ve got your back. Always."

J-Hope smiled at us both, his eyes a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I know. Thanks, guys. I’ll miss you both."

*** The next day, after Yoongi returned from seeing J-Hope off, we somehow managed to finish the last track just before the deadline. It felt like a weight lifted off our shoulders. The album, which had been months in the making, was finally ready, set to release on April 21st with nine tracks. It was a huge achievement, and that night, we celebrated in typical Yoongi fashion, with whiskey at his place, and, well, sex. The kind of passionate, no-holds-barred kind that made me forget about the stress of the last few months.

The following days leading up to the album release were a whirlwind. We couldn't spend much time together, since Yoongi had a full schedule of promotional activities. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking the rare opportunity to relax and mentally prepare for the next project Minji had set up for me. Life was moving quickly, and I knew the grind would start again soon.

That night, as I was settling into my evening routine, my phone buzzed with a notification. Yoongi's live stream was about to start. He had mentioned earlier that his company would have him livestream his full album for his fans to celebrate the release. I was excited, though admittedly a little nervous to hear how the tracks we worked on together sounded to the public.

I clicked on the stream and watched as Yoongi greeted his fans, his usual cool demeanor giving way to the warmth of being surrounded by people who admired his work. I listened closely as he played the first six songs, the ones he had worked on solo. Each track was a piece of his soul, his sound so distinct and raw. Then came the three songs we collaborated on, and I couldn’t help but smile. Hearing them in front of thousands of fans was surreal, but in a way, it felt like we were still connected. Every note, every lyric felt like a reflection of the quiet moments we shared, the time we spent creating together.

As the ninth track played, I expected the stream to wrap up, but then Yoongi’s voice came through again. It was softer this time, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say the words that were coming.

“This last song is a very last-minute addition to the album,” he began, his tone low and a little more introspective. “Making this album have a total of 10 tracks. I felt like this album was missing something... and this track summarizes everything that’s been going on with me lately. It’s called SDL.”

I froze, heart pounding in my chest. I hadn’t known about this last-minute addition to the album. I thought everything had been finalized. But here he was, introducing a track that was somehow more personal than any of the others. My stomach tightened as the beat dropped, and the chorus rang out:

"Yeah, somebody does love

But I'm thinking 'bout you."

The lyrics hit me like a wave, each word carrying a weight that I couldn’t ignore. It felt so raw, so vulnerable. Before I could process it all, I grabbed my stuff and rushed out the door. I knew Yoongi would still be at HYBE, where the livestream was taking place. Without thinking twice, I jumped into my car, determined to get there. The song had caught me completely off guard, and I needed to see him. I needed to understand what this song really meant.

It wasn’t just a track—it was a message. A message that had left me reeling, and I wasn’t going to wait to figure it out. I arrived at HYBE, my heart still racing from the drive. As I stepped out, I caught sight of Jihoon leaving the building, and without thinking, I called out to him.

"Is Yoongi still here?"

"Yeah, last time I saw him, it was just a few minutes ago at the studio," Jihoon replied casually. I didn't even say goodbye as I ran inside toward the studio, my mind set on finding Yoongi. When I reached the door and pushed it open, I could tell it wasn’t the same as the first time we met, where his eyes had been skeptical and full of surprise. This time, when our eyes met, I saw something completely different, softness, warmth, and love.

I closed the door behind me and moved closer to him, my breath still catching up from the run.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, his voice laced with concern. He came to me, his hands instinctively reaching up to fix my hair, his touch gentle as he noticed my flustered state.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "That last song, I saw your live... where did that come from? I thought the album had only 9 tracks."

Yoongi paused, his hands lingering in my hair as he gave me a soft smile. "As I said on the live, that song is what’s been going on in my head these past couple of months."

I raised an eyebrow, still trying to piece it together. "So, you mean to tell me... I’m your inspiration?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. You know I’m not great with my feelings, and better than anyone, you understand how hard it is for me to express myself. With everything that’s been going on between us lately… I thought this would be the clearest way to show you how I feel, the way we know best: through music."

“Why didn’t you play it for me before? In private?” I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, like a big romantic gesture that only we would recognize,” he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. “I felt like I needed to redeem myself for how I acted at the start. To be honest, we were so good together that I’m sure we could’ve finished those tracks in less than a month. But I kept being a jerk, nit-picking everything just so we’d have to restart. It was selfish, but I wanted to steal every last minute with you. You walked into this studio and captured my heart and soul with everything you are, and I wasn’t ready to let that go so easily.”

His words hit me with full force, my heart pounding in my chest as the weight of his confession settled. I stepped closer, my emotions bubbling to the surface, and before I could think or say anything more, my lips found Yoongi’s. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if I were trying to tell him everything I couldn’t put into words. It was a kiss full of everything: love, apology, understanding, and a promise for more. We didn’t need more words, just the closeness, the music, and the quiet understanding between us. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, we both knew: this was just the beginning.

[moralesluvr]

can you please write a crazy fanfic where billie is like a fuckboy and she meets reader at a house party in LA and wants her so bad but reader plays hard to get and they end up having sex at hers and billies friend is in the room but billie doesnt gaf ? <3

FOR TONIGHT | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ this is probably the filthiest thing i’ve ever written. read at your own risk!

house parties were usually never your thing until you met charli.

you had bumped into the pop star in your coffee shop once while running late to work, and somehow the both of you sparked up a conversation when you muttered something (mostly derogatory) about your manager under your breath, earning a laugh from the girl, and ultimately leading to your undying friendship.

ever since the two of you became friends, charli had pulled your buried, most innermost extroverted parts out, dragging you along to house parties and clubs with various famous people— from actors to DJs, you had your fair share of once in a lifetime interactions.

tonight, you currently sat on the floor of your best friend’s room, finishing off the wing of eyeliner that boldly lifted your cat eyed look. you were clad in a lacy spaghetti string top and a pair of short brown leather shorts, a pair of boots that you borrowed from charli waiting for you by her vanity— which she was currently sitting at, finishing off her makeup.

“you ready for this party tonight?” she asked you, turning around in her rolley chair to offer you a wiggle of her eyebrows, excitement glossing over her eyes, “i’m so excited, we haven’t been out in ages.”

“i don’t know,” you shrugged honestly, standing up and lazily dragging yourself to a spot on her king-sized bed, careful not to get any of your makeup on her pure white sheets. “i feel like it’s just another party we’re going to, nothing too special.”

charli turned her attention back to the mirror and applied her blush in gentle but swift movements, a pinky tint beginning to blossom against her cheeks as she called out to her alexa to shuffle her getting ready playlist. when it turned on some of her notorious house music, she bopped from side to side, speaking loudly over the beat, “you’ll have fun tonight, though— it’ll probably be more chill than usual!”

you rolled your eyes, because charli’s chill and your chill were on opposite sides of a spectrum. but you couldn’t even protest because you swore up and down you’d stop being so damn antisocial, and actually try going out again for once, though it made you cringe at the thought of stepping out of your comfort zone.

it didn’t take long for your best friend to finish getting ready, and when the both of you had your bags in hand and empty shot glasses discarded in the sink from your pregame, you strutted out the door and made your way to the uber that waited outside her door. you yanked the car door open and greeted the driver, who was a young-looking man with fierce blue eyeshadow and curly blonde hair. he was sweet and genuine when he said hello back, pulling off into the road and typing the address into the GPS.

anxiety began to bubble in your chest, but not because you were scared— it was mainly because charli wouldn’t let you be a debbie downer and not drink or dance with her tonight. it wasn’t that you weren’t in the mood, but it had been so long that you just felt like you were out of your element.

“i’m fuckin’ pumped!” she hooted from the seat next to you, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small glass of pink liquid, and you furrowed your eyebrows at her when you realized that the liquid was actually pink whitney.

“charli,” you mumbled, mostly out of second hand embarrassment for the poor driver, “did we not just pregame?”

she shook her head as you arrived at the party, insinuating that the shot you both took together wasn’t enough for her. your eyes widened as the car came to a stop— this house was huge.

you didn’t even really know who was throwing the party, just that you were invited, but whoever it was clearly had enough money to spend it on this huge, all black penthouse. cars were lined up and down the driveway and road, ranging from bentleys to ferraris and porches, and your stomach twisted when you saw a couple familiar faces walking in and standing in the lawn with red solo cups in their hands.

charli picked up on your anxiety and rubbed your back as you both thanked the driver and exited the vehicle, “relax a bit, love, we’ve done this before.”

“that isn’t as comforting as you think.” honesty is laced in your voice as charli shrugs at you, hand on the small of your exposed back, leading you inside. the lights were completely off except for a few LEDs here and there. people were all over the place, from corners in the living room to people gambling in the living room, and the secular atmosphere made you tense up a little bit. it had been so long since you had been to one of these functions, and at first, you weren’t sure you were going to survive.

however, about an hour into the night, you had thanked charli a million times over for getting a little liquor in your system. you weren’t drunk, but you were tipsy enough to where every nervous atom in your body told you that being timid was just a suggestion, not a command. you were pretty much all over the place now— cutting up on the dance floor with charli, carrying on with some of your friends— it made every tense moment soften up.

you were dancing and singing loudly to whatever was playing on aux when the beat suddenly switched to more of a synthy sound, and you immediately recognized charli’s voice that was amplified from the speakers above.

“hey billie, you there?”

you thought it was slightly ironic that they were playing her own music at the party, but you just shrugged as you weaved yourself through the thick crowd, making your way over to the drink station.

you were waiting patiently for your drink when you heard a familiar voice behind you, and then someone’s warm skin connecting with your own on your exposed legs. you turned around and met eyes with none other than billie eilish, who was offering you a small grin as she held her red solo cup next to you, swishing the liquid in it around a few times, “didn’t expect to see you here, angel.”

you spun around on your heel, your face just inches away from her own as she took a sip of her drink, still holding eye contact with you over the rim of her cup. the way she looked at you— lowly and dark with her blue eyes sparkling in the sparse light, it made a unfamiliar heat crawl up your neck as you sucked in a breath, “eilish. nice to see you.”

“definitely nice to see you,” billie giggled, irises scanning you intensively as she leaned up against the marble counter next to her, “you look really fucking good.”

“for someone you’ve only met a couple times before this, you’re awfully bold.” you swallowed with a laugh, downing another shot as the alcohol burned your throat, making you let out a quiet cough. you smacked the shot glass against the counter and smirked at billie, “and for the record, i’m not really into the bold type.”

billie titled her head as you started to walk away, though you fully expected her to follow you— and you were right. her footsteps were close behind yours as you muttered apologized throughout the large crowd, finally settling on escaping through a pair of big glass doors, stepping out into the warm california air, perching against the balcony.

the teal eyed girl eventually leaned closer to you, her smirk widening as she took another sip out of her cup, “well, good thing i’m not all that bold, just persistent.”

you roll your eyes, “can’t you just go torture some other girl?”

“only if you admit that you like the attention first.”

although she was annoying, billie lived up to her word that she was extremely persistent with her wits. you ignored her attempt to flirt and reached into your leather handbag, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter. as you grab one and take a thick drag, billie pouts at you, but you shrug off her half-irritated expression. the faint orange glow from the end of your cigarette illuminates against your face, and you turn your head and exhale your smoke when you hear billie speak.

y’know that’s gonna kill you, right?”

a shrug is all you offer to her, letting it be known that her opinion was absolute last on your list of things to consider.

“hope it does,” you speak coolly, “so i can get away from you,” you seethe with obvious annoyance laced within your tone, but it doesn’t make billie stop her advances. she just watches as you smoke, admiring the waning sunset and the chatter of people’s voices muffled over the sound of music playing from inside the house. the silence is comforting until of course, billie breaks it, “okay damn, do you always have an attitude like this?”

“only when people think they can tell me what to do.” your reply backs up the action of you bringing your cig up to your lips to take another puff, almost to prove a clear point to billie, who’s watching you with intense eyes. she shoves her hands into her pockets nonchalantly, “m’kay, miss hard to get— what do i have to do to make you not hate me?”

“probably die.”

“ouch. but you’re not as scary as you think, angel.”

her words piss you off, but mainly because there isn’t much of a false statement within them. you weren’t scary at all, but you were mainly just annoyed and too almost-drunk and cigarette buzzed to give a damn about whatever she was saying. everytime you saw her at a party, it was this— her trying to hit on you, you refusing but in a flirtatious way, and then you went about your business. but there was something enigmatic about her advances now that made your skin tingle, especially when she looked at you with those fucking icy blue eyes.

you finished off your cigarette and threw it on the wooden floor below you, smushing the butt of it with your booted heels, a sigh passing through your swollen lips. billie spoke again, a little more softer this time, but her voice still intense as always.

“why do you play so damn hard to get, y/n?”

the question makes words of honesty roll of your tongue, the feeling of intoxication rolling over you like a small wave as you spoke lowly, “honestly, it’s just fun watching you try this hard.”

billie laughed at that, the sound smooth and sultry, and stepped closer, her body nearly brushing against your own, making your breath hitch slightly in your throat.

“be careful, baby,” she warned, her voice soft, but still weaved with her usual tone of challenge and determination, “i’m not sure you really understand what you’re getting into.”

your eyes locked with hers as she spoke, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she was, yet how stupid she sounded. “wow, billie, i’ll hand it to you— you talk a lot of shit for someone who hasn’t made a single move yet.”

billie’s smile faltered a bit, swooping all her hair to one side of her shoulders as she moved so close to you that you could hear her breathing. she gave you a quick scan with an unclear motive behind her eyes, whispering, “don’t worry, babygirl. i’ll do plenty.”

you scoff, though the lack of distance between you and billie made you anxious now. her skin was touching yours now, and the contact sent ribbons of electricity up and down your spine as you looked up at her. you didn’t even realize that you weren’t breathing until she told you to do so, and embarrassment crawled onto your face when you caught your lost breath.

she had grabbed your waist without a word, her face already so close to yours that it was like you were asking for her to kiss you— so that’s exactly what she did.

she hungrily pressed her lips onto yours, fingers digging so hard into your sides that you were sure she left marks. the kiss was hungry and lustful, your body succumbing to her touch as your hips rocked against her own involuntarily, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

she pulled away with a laugh, “somebody’s a little worked up now, hm?”

before you could respond to her teasing, a loud crash echoed from deeper inside the house, the sound sharp enough to cut through the thick tension in the air. instinctively, you glanced over your shoulder, but billie didn’t loosen her grip on you, her hands still firm on your waist.

“don’t even think about it,” she murmured, her voice low, a warning laced with something a little darker.

“what if someone needs help?” you teased, trying to play it cool despite the heat swirling between you. you were trying to play off the fact that the effect she had on you was now to her knowledge, but your attempts were failed.

billie leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered next to you, her breath tickling your skin. “oh don’t worry— they’ll be fine. but you? you’re mine for the night.”

you sucked in a breath, her words pulling a spark of something unexpected in your chest as you spoke, “you’re awfully possessive for someone who just met me,” you shot back, though you couldn’t quite ignore the way your heart raced at the thought of going home with her tonight. it didn’t seem like such a bad idea now— it was nothing serious, just a loose hookup with some hot girl from a friend’s party, what ever could go wrong?

billie grinned at your statement, her thumb now tracing small circles on your side, sending shivers down your spine. “maybe, but i’m sure you like it,” she said, her lips brushing against yours lightly, teasingly, as though she was waiting for you to make the next move.

you whined at that. your little ‘hard’ act was over now, and all you wanted was for the little issue that had soaked your underwear to be fixed, and fixed immediately. but you couldn’t let billie know that just yet, so you tilted your head and leaned in, speaking seductively, “and what if i don’t, hm?”

“then i guess I’ll just have to convince you,” billie replied, the smirk on her lips growing nothing but wicked as her hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

the words made a sharp feeling of arousal poke inside of you, and before you could process them fully, she kissed you again—fiercer this time, like this was her only shot at you. you didn’t want it to end, really— but she cut it off to whisper in your ear, her nails digging into your soft flesh.

“let’s go, now.”

there was nothing more that you could do to protest. you were hopeless at this point, so you latched your hand onto billie’s as she guided you back inside and through the crowd, pushing past people just to make it known that you were coming with her.

cocky bitch.

you eventually pushed past so many different people that a strong mix of cologne, liquor, and perfume filled your nose. you had made eye contact with charli, who did nothing but give you a wiggle of her eyebrows and a wink when she saw who you were leaving with, which made you even more scared.

as you made your way outside, a fresh wind of air flew against your face, and you felt like anxiety was the only thing pumping through your veins as billie led you to her black porsche, opening the door for you.

“my lady,” she joked as you climbed inside, though really, in this moment, it felt like her saying “my whore,” was more appropriate. here you were— playing hard to get at first, now cooped up in some girl’s car that you barely know after a party, and on the way to her place.

the car ride felt way longer than it actually was, because your mind couldn’t stop racing against your will about what was about to happen to you. you sat in the driveway now, and billie wasn’t speaking, which only made your nerves more amplified as she opened the door for you again, eventually leading you inside.

as soon as she closed the door behind you, she was on you like white on rice. her lips immediately smashed into yours— and it wasn’t sweet, either— it was hard and fast and so very impure. you were moaning into her mouth when she swept you right off of your feet, your legs wrapped around her hips as her back settled against the wall. one of billie’s ringed hands supported your ass as her tongue timidly crossed paths with your own, and soon enough, the only sounds that could be heard without her house were the sounds of heavy breathing and lips smacking.

billie pulled away and your legs detached from her hips because you felt like if you didn’t stand, you were gonna pass out. a whine left you as billie shot you a look of such passion that it almost scared you.

“look at you,” she talked louder now that you two were in private, her tattooed hand coming up to wrap itself around your neck, but lacking a squeeze, “just an hour ago you were so persistent that i leave you alone, but now the only thought in your head is of me fuckin’ you, huh?”

you can’t even respond because you know she’s speaking nothing but the truth. billie doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak, either, she just presses you further against the wall and swipes her lips against your own, backing up and leading you to her bedroom without breaking the kiss, your only guidance being her hand that was firmly pressed against your throat.

billie eventually had you laying back-down on her bed as she sat on top of you, hands roaming all around your exposed skin. you let out helpless moans— you were such a horny mess when you were drunk, but you didn’t care now— all you cared about was making sure billie understand how eager you were for her, how bad you needed her.

she broke the kiss and began to use her right hand to undo the zipper on your shorts, but when it jammed, she let out a thick sigh of annoyance.

“just fuckin’ get rid of it, it’s pissing me off.”

you adhere to her request with quick obedience, taking off your shorts quickly and discarding them by throwing them somewhere around the room. billie offers your neck light kisses before sucking at the bare skin, a moan passing through your lips as she left dark love bites on you.

“b-billie…” you moaned, “please, just…touch me already.”

“oh, i thought you couldn’t stand me.” she teased you, taking off your lacy top, revealing your bare boobs due to you not wearing a bra.

your nipples laid victim to billie’s touch as she sucked on your left one, her thumb and index finger rubbing against your right one, and it took everything in you not to cum right then and there.

the alcohol in your body made every single part of you so sensitive, and you didn’t know how much more you could take when billie left a huge hickey on the skin in between your breasts. she was relentless with her movements, her head now plastered right between your thighs, the tip of her nose meeting with the very tip top of your clit.

billie’s eyes drop to your pretty blue panties that you’re wearing, a noticeable wet spot forming in the crotch of them, making your cheeks feel hot to the touch.

“already so wet for me and i’ve barely even touched you. what a dirty little girl— you wanna be fucked all better by me, hm? someone who you hardly know?”

you don’t let anything out but noise, and billie yanks your underwear down with a swift movement, her head so deeply buried in between your thighs that you can feel her warmth against your sex. billie lets out a cocky gasp when her eyes lay on your pussy, “gosh, you’re dripping, baby.”

“eilish, just t-touch me already,” you stutter out pathetically, and billie can’t hold back anymore, so she listens to your request and fulfills it, fully. her tongue quickly maneuvers itself into your leaking cunt, collecting all your juices like trophies as her thumb comes up to rub your clit. the pleasure makes your skin feel hot and tingly as you arch your back, little moans passing through your lips.

just as things start to get more intense, you hear someone walking around in the living room and call out billie’s name. your eyes widen and you freeze up like a deer in headlights, but billie looks up at you and shrugs, “it’s just zoe.”

“just zoe?” you whisper-yell, “i don’t wanna be caught having sex with you when your friend is here!”

“then don’t get us caught.”

billie says it like it’s simple, and she returns to the task at hand, eating you out like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. your hands found themselves in her hair, grabbing a handful of it so hard that it was the only thing steadying your body weight.

“you taste s’good, my god.” billie mewls against your sex, “made me work so hard for this pussy, feels like such a reward.”

billie switches out her tongue for two of her fingers now, and she doesn’t care that they’ve still got her rings on them. you both watch as your cunt swallows her digits that pump into you harshly, her silver jewelry now coated with your arousal. she curls her fingertips upwards, hitting a sweet and spongy spot deep within you that makes your hips buck wildly.

you feel your eyes start to shut, but billie gives you a slap to the thigh, forcing you to accept her offer of eye contact that she gives you, “look at me, slut. you wanted this— so you’re gonna watch me fuck you, and if you even make a single noise, i’m not letting you cum. understand that, princess? nod if you do.”

you nod fervently, your lips flattening out as you made sure not to make a single noise. footsteps sounded from outside and a knock was harbored against billie’s bedroom door, “bils? you in there?”

“a little busy right now, zo.” billie called out, still fucking into your pussy harshly with her thick fingers. you felt your orgasm bubble deep within you and you wanted to make a sound so show for it so badly, but it seems like billie picked up on the memo by the way she used her other hand to toy at your swollen clit.

“oh, okay! just wanted to let you know that there’s leftovers in the fridge, and that i’m gonna go ahead and hit the hay. goodnight, love you!” zoe called as her footsteps faded out, and billie yelled back something about how she loved her too and how she’d probably eat the food later.

she then turned her attention back to you, watching as you fell apart because of her hard, quick movements.

“bil…bil…billie, please,” you whined and whimpered and begged for the blue eyed girl, your hips crushing down onto her fingers in a desperate effort to get yourself off, “i’m so close…i’m gonna…gonna cum—“

“hm, i don’t know, should i even let you cum?” billie spoke through a teasing, soft voice, making you whimper at the fact that you may or may not be able to cum, and whatever the answer was it was completely up to her to decide.

you couldn’t take the teasing anymore— you were so damn close, and would pretty much do anything to finish yourself off. you looked down at billie and when you made eye contact with her, you immediately screwed your eyes shut. it was just too much.

but you wanted to reach that sweet point of pleasure so bad, so you whispered in pleasure, “p-please billie, i’ll do anything just…i wanna cum, i wanna cum so bad…”

“only if you ask nicely.”

clearly billie was fucking with you. you had obviously asked pretty nicely the first time, but it wasn’t adequate enough for her, needless to say. she had slowed down her thrusts, making that tight feeling in your tummy subside, and you let out a long whine of complaint at that.

just ask nicely, you thought— and if maybe you did it the right way, even though it chipped at your pride, you’d finally get to cum, the feeling you’d been waiting for for what seemed like hours.

“please, please, please let me cum.”

billie tilted her head to the side cockily, and you already knew there was gonna be something else she was going to force you to do until you could be granted that feeling of release.

“please, who?”

usually you couldn’t be paid to call someone anything other than terms of endearment or their legal name, but in this moment, it felt so effortless as the nickname slipped between your teeth, a small moan pressed behind it.

“p-please, mommy— please just…l-let me…fuck…!”

billie cooed underneath you as she fucked into you relentlessly, that familiar feeling reappearing in your stomach as your cunt fluttered around the girl’s fingers, her other hand busy with rubbing your puffy clit in big, sloppy circles, fueling your orgasm.

“that’s right, make a mess on me, it’s okay.” billie praised, watching you as you came undone on her fingers, a bunch of ‘thank you’s and moans leaving your lips as she fucked you through your orgasm slowly.

you can’t even speak it was so good, and billie gives your clit a couple lazy kisses before gathering your juices up onto her fingertips, placing them in her mouth and looking up at you with hungry eyes.

“taste fucking marvelous, babygirl.” billie giggled, coming up to your level to plant a kiss on your own lips before she stood up off the bed, venturing over to her dresser where she pulled out a thick, purple strap. she slipped her own clothing off and started to slip the strap on, making you gulp nervously when the length was put into perspective.

“y’know,” billie starts as she makes her way back over to her bed, where you were a quivering mess, laying on her plain sheets that were now decorated by your small wet spot beneath you.

“didn’t think you’d be so submissive in bed.”

“i’m not!” you protest, but you start to regret your words when billie slammed into you, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix, making a feeling of pain mixed with pleasure wash over you. it was a mistake to say that in short, billie wasn’t the only one capable of being the boss— and you wish that the statement had never left your mouth.

billie ruts her hips into your own, and her demeanor is nothing but mean. one hand is tugging at your hair, and the other slapping your ass every once and a while— unless her thumb is too busy rolling against your clit that was so sensitive to touch, it borderline hurt.

“talk to me, slut,” billie spoke naughtily, “how’s this feel, hm? my dick slamming into you, your pretty little pussy clenching around me? that feel good?”

“s-s’good, yes, bils!” you yell, completely disregarding the fact that zoe was just a door or two down from billie’s, but you didn’t care anymore. you couldn’t. the way billie was fucking you made it nearly impossible not to scream.

it seemed like her whole demeanor changed because she slowed down a little and placed sloppy kiss all over your cheeks and forehead as she thrusted deeply into you, the imitative cock filling your tight pussy up to the brim. billie lovingly held you now, “i know you wanna cum, princess— it’s okay, cum for me, wanna see your pretty face while you do it, too.”

it’s like she knew before you did, because as soon as the words left her mouth, you felt your second orgasm incoming, making you gasp. it felt much more powerful than the first, and you bucked your hips irregularly as you chanted billie’s name like a broken record, “i’m cumming, bil— mmph! i…i’m…”

“shh, it’s okay, i know it baby…i know how good it feels. tell mommy how good it feels.” billie whispers at you, and you offer her nothing but little whimpers as you came down from your high, still riding her cock slowly to fully finish you off.

when you finally settle down, billie pulls out of you, putting the strap away and returning with a washcloth and water for you. she makes you lay down even though you assure her that you can take care of yourself, wiping away at your pussy and inner thighs. she gives you a kiss and then continues her task, and when she’s finished, she lays beside you and cuddles up to you, skin to skin.

“you did so good, pretty girl. don’t worry, you’re always gonna be my good little girl.”

[anastasiabowe]

𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙈𝙀 𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝘼𝘽𝙔 𝘿𝘼𝘿! — Your boyfriend’s baby mama keep trying to get him back, so you gotta show her how you fuck her baby dad..

Note: I do not condone ANY content that is sent to your partners ex.. but if it’s Choso, it’s Choso so enjoy! (Also isn’t proofread so Ntm)

Content Warnings: SWEARING, piv, unprotected sex, recording of intimacy, hair pulling, revenge on ex, sharing 18+ content, mention of Choso having a child (not in any 18+ moments.) , MINORS JUST GO AWAY thank you!

“Fuck me.” Choso cursed to himself. You were in the kitchen washing your breakfast dishes. You looked over your shoulder to see him rub his forehead in what seems to be stress.

“Everything alright?” You dried your hands on the towel, and made your way to him. You wrap your arms around him, letting his ease into your warm arms.

“Just my ex..” he looked up at you, showing his phone. They one thing you appreciated about him is how honest he is. He always shows you his phone, and it’s almost comforting to know he has nothing to hide from you.

You grabbed his phone, and he stared at your face as you read the messages.

Jenny

11:40am

J: “Been thinking about you lately Cho..”

C: “I haven’t. What do you want, Jenny? Is something wrong with Mani?”

J: “nah, just been missing you.. can I do that?”

C: “I’ve told you to only contact me if it’s about Mani. If it isn’t, I’m done talking to you.”

J: “Cho, please, I miss you, I miss your smile. Why can’t I ever see you again? Like we only see each other when you come to pick up mani or I drop him off.”

Seen

“I’m going to beat her ass.” You pushed his phone back into his hands, and made your way to the front door only for Choso to grab your wrist.

“What?”

“Who the fuck does she is calling you ‘Cho’ like that?”

“Well don’t go beating her ass, she’s with mani right now.”

“Well what else can I do, this the 7th fucking time she coming out with these messages.”

Choso looked around in thought until a smirk appeared on his face.

“I got an idea.”

-

-

-

“F-fuck!” Choso had both of your arms wrapped behind your back as he slammed his hips into your ass. He held your phone in his hand as he recorded you moaning out his name.

“Come on baby, who’s dick making you like this?”

“Y-yours!” You squealed when he readjusted, pushing the cold phone into your lower back, and stopping his movements. He soon picked up the pace again and it felt more than amazing.

Choso leaned on your back, bringing he camera around to face your messy face. Your head was half hurried in the comforter and your hands were gripping the sheets.

“Come on baby, we want to see your face!” Choso grabbed your hair, and you smiled as you stared into the camera, eyes threatening to roll back into your head.

“Good girl, doing so good for me.” Choso dropped the camera onto the bed, and swiftly turned you over, dick still inside.

“Gotta see your pretty face for real.” He picked up the camera and recorded how your cunt sucked him in every time he pulled out and pushed in.

The sight was more than unholy, it was obscene, but it only turned you on to know that this will be on your phone for you to see, and this would be the video showing how you fuck her baby dad.

You smiled at the thought of her thinking about the video everytime she even opens his contact.

“What’s got you so smiley?” Choso I’m assuming ended the video and tossed your phone next to your head. He then leaned in closer, chest to chest, and kissed your wet lips.

“Just thinking.” You giggled. He smiled, and deepened his thrusts. He pulled back, and brought your legs up into his shoulders. He then pounded harder into you, still having a smile of love and passion on his face.

“O-ooh Cho! S-shit slow down!” You cried as he kissed your ankle. Your stomach filled with butterfly’s as you felt your high coming quick.

“I’m gonna cum, Cho, I’m gonna cum!” He laughed, and leaned down to kiss you.

“Cum for me.” Those words made you let out a cry of pleasure as you came. Choso continued to rut and kiss you through it, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“F-fuck baby, where d’you wan’ it?” Choso noted, waiting for your response.

“Inside!” You moaned, and Choso bit your ankle to stop himself from making any loud noises. He let out whimpers, and you smiled feeling him relax.

Choso quickly grabbed your phone, and swiped to the camera and pressed record. He slowly pulled out, and his cum mixed with yours flowed out.

Choso chuckled at the masterpiece you and him made.

“Look at that shit,” Choso scooped some of it up and pushed it back inside. “Keep it all in baby, tryna get you pregnant.”

Those words made your stomach flutter from the mere thought of having his kid. Everything about this was so filthy yet so thrilling, and you couldn’t wait to get that positive pregnancy test.

Choso then tossed your phone down onto a pile of clothes on the floor, and kissed you.

“You’d like that huh?” He pinched your side and you let out a laugh. He knew you’d like that very much.

-

-

-

You were sound asleep when Choso opened your phone and sent the video to himself. He then sent that video to Jenny, making sure she knows who he really wanted.

Not even 5 minutes later, Jenny sent a message that made Choso laugh a little to loud.

J: “You guys are so fucking disgusting, I hope you choke on your fucking ego. I don’t want to see your face ever again, you fucking cunt.”

What made that funny was he had to see her in not even 8 hours when he has to pick up his son from her house. This will be a fun exchange.

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part III

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of arousal, fluff.

Series Masterlist

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

The morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on the bed. You woke up to the quiet sounds of the ocean outside, your body still tangled in the warmth of the sheets. Nicholas was already awake, propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone beside you. He looked effortlessly fine—his hair messily perfect, his jawline catching the light, those pretty eyes.

“Morning,” he said, glancing at you with a small smile. His voice was rough, low, and intimate in the quiet room.

“Morning,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

There was a beat of silence, the air thick with the unspoken acknowledgment of what had transpired the night before. You sat up, the covers slipping off your shoulders as you reached for your phone, you were one of those people. But the memory of his touch, how close he was to you last night, was still vivid in your mind.

“So, last night..,” you said eventually, your voice softer than usual. “I haven’t had something like that in a long time.”

Nicholas looked at you for a moment before answering. “Wow, but it was nice.”

You caught yourself studying him—his relaxed posture, the way his fingers scrolled through his phone, and the faint hint of a smile on his lips. There was a question you wanted to ask, something burning at the back of your mind. Was he hard this morning? The thought made your cheeks heat up. You didn’t bother asking. You already knew the answer. But the real question was—why? Was it because of you, or was it just typical morning wood?

Instead of voicing your thoughts, you both dove into headlines, trying to avoid the lingering air between you. As you scrolled through the news, a headline caught your eye, and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

“‘Mystery man spotted! Could this be the one to tame the wild child?’” you read aloud, barely containing your laughter.

Nicholas leaned over to glance at your phone, his eyebrow quirking. “Tame? Are they serious?”

“I know, right?” you said, still laughing. “I’m in my early 20s, at the top of my career. I don’t need some man tying me down.” You paused, glancing at him. “No offense.”

“None taken,” he replied with a smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

The laughter eased the tension, and the two of you fell into the kind of comfortable rhythm that had been building since your first meeting. You spent the rest of the morning lounging around, the conversation flowing easily. At one point, Nicholas opened up about his past, a year long relationship that had ended just before his career had taken off.

“Were you in love?” you asked, curiosity lacing your tone.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. It just didn’t work. We were in different spaces in life, completely different people.”

You nodded, processing his words before admitting, “I’ve never been in love, I think.”

The confession hung in the air, intimate and raw. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you wondered what he was thinking. Was he imagining what it would be like if your first taste of love was with him?

You shifted the conversation, steering it toward lighter topics. hobbies, interests, little quirks that made you both laugh. The more you learned about him, the more you realized how different you were, yet there was an odd sense of compatibility that kept pulling you back in.

Later in the afternoon, you both sat down to discuss your next PR move.

“I’ve got a GQ red carpet event in a few days,” Nicholas mentioned. “It’s the perfect opportunity to make this whole thing slightly more public.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What’s the plan? Play it cool?”

“Exactly,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ll be my date, but we won’t even follow each other on social media. Let the speculation do the work.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Look at us, plotting and scheming.”

Nicholas chuckled, leaning back against the couch. “I can’t believe this is the same person the media paints as a messy party girl.”

“And I can’t believe you’re supposed to be the detached, aloof guy,” you countered, grinning.

He smiled, his gaze softening. “You’re not so bad. Not bad at all.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The afternoon had barely begun when Angela, you and Nicholas’ manager, threw a last-minute photoshoot into your schedule. This wasn’t new, she was known for her knack for delivering surprises, but you didn’t mind. Despite the controversies that had plagued your career recently, brands were still eager to work with you. It was a testament to your influence, even when the media tried to frame you as a wild child.

As you prepared to leave the beach house, your driver pulled up. Nicholas was still lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. When you casually mentioned the shoot, he perked up.

“Mind if I come?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

You laughed, raising an eyebrow. “To a photoshoot? Why?”

“I want to see you in your element,” he said, his tone surprisingly eager.

It was an odd request, but something about it felt endearing. You shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Arriving on set, the atmosphere was as chaotic as ever—stylists rushing around, makeup artists perfecting details, and the director shouting last-minute adjustments. As you were whisked away to wardrobe, Nicholas trailed behind, taking everything in with wide-eyed fascination.

When you emerged from the dressing room, clad in a couture gown that hugged your figure perfectly, Nicholas looked stunned. He didn’t say much, but his expression spoke volumes.

“You clean up nice,” he teased, smirking as you walked past him toward the set.

“Don’t I always?” you shot back playfully, throwing a wink over your shoulder.

As you posed, the producers buzzed around, setting up lights and angles. One of them, a sharp-eyed man with a clipboard, noticed Nicholas standing off to the side.

“Who’s he?” he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

You seized the opportunity, a sly smile spreading across your face. “Well, that’s Nicholas Chavez. He’s my industry muse. Gaining traction fast. He starred in Ryan Murphy’s Netflix show about the Menendez brothers, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Great actor, and honestly, he has the kind of face that would be perfect for campaigns. You should keep him in mind for any projects or shoots.”

Nicholas blinked, caught off guard by your sudden endorsement, but he quickly recovered, nodding along and smiling gratefully. “Thanks,” he murmured under his breath as he stood beside you.

You glanced at him, brushing it off casually. “It’s my job now isn’t it? That’s why we’re doing this PR thing in the first place.”

The shoot went on, and you moved through each pose effortlessly, embodying the grace and confidence that had made you a household name. Draped in high fashion and surrounded by a perfectly styled set of flowers and soft lighting, you were in your element. Nicholas watched from the sidelines, snapping candid videos and pictures on his phone.

“I can’t believe you just do this,” he said during a break, shaking his head. “It’s like watching a masterclass.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

By the end of the day, you both had enough content to stir the media into another frenzy. Nicholas snapped a picture of the set, with you posing in the background, while you did the same. The plan was to release the images strategically once the photos were ready, perfect publicity for both of you.

Later that evening, Nicholas invited you into his mansion. The two of you lounged in his master bedroom, scrolling through social media and discussing the buzz that was already building.

“Think it’s time to post these?” Nicholas asked, holding up his phone with a mischievous grin. He was referring to the photos of the romantic set up from your beach house.

“Go for it,” you said. “I’ll follow your lead.”

He uploaded the photos first, his caption vague enough to keep people guessing. You followed a few minutes later, knowing the coordinated posts would send your followers into a frenzy.

“This is a fun game,” you admitted, laughing softly as you watched the likes and comments pour in.

Nicholas leaned back against the pillows, his gaze on you. “Look at us, playing the media like it’s chess.”

You grinned but said nothing, focusing instead on the undeniable ease that had settled between you two. As the night wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, jokes, stories, playful banter.

But eventually, you excused yourself. As much as you enjoyed his company, a part of you held back. You couldn’t afford to enjoy it too much, not when the lines between professional and personal were already so blurred.

As you walked next door to your house, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something unpredictable. Would your alliance lead to something more, or was it foreshadowing the chaos to come? Only time would tell.

It should’ve been easy to slip back into your usual mindset, focus on your modeling career, keep your emotions in check, and stay professional. But as much as you tried, your thoughts kept wandering back to Nicholas, how he looked at you today, the way he made you laugh, and how he didn’t seem fazed by your world of chaos. He wasn’t intimidated by it the way other men that had been in your life were.

By the time you stepped into your home, the familiar silence greeted you, grounding you in reality. The space felt bigger than usual, emptier somehow, and you rolled your eyes at yourself. Get a grip, you thought. You weren’t the type to get hung up on anyone, let alone someone you barely knew.

You changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your curls back as you sank into the couch with your phone in hand. Notifications were exploding from the posts you and Nicholas had made earlier. Fans and media outlets alike were speculating, spinning wild theories about the "mystery man." Headlines like “Wild Child Model Tamed?” and “The Love Story We Didn’t See Coming” made you laugh out loud.

“Settle down?” you muttered to yourself. “They’re insane.”

But beneath the humor, a strange pang hit you. It was more like curiosity. What if they aren’t completely wrong? You shook the thought off. You were in your early twenties, at the peak of your career. You didn’t need a man to define or anchor you, even one as intriguing as Nicholas.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. A text from him.

Hope you got inside safe though I watched you from my window. Thanks for bringing me to the shoot today, it was kind of amazing seeing you do your thing.

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, his words making you smile despite yourself. He didn’t have to text you. This wasn’t part of the PR script. You typed back quickly.

Don’t get used to it. My world’s a little too chaotic for you.

The response was immediate.

I don’t know. I think I can handle it ;)

You found yourself laughing, the warmth from earlier creeping back. But you couldn’t let this go beyond what it was, a strategic partnership, a temporary arrangement. Right?

You tossed your phone onto the couch and let your head fall back, staring at the ceiling. It should’ve been simple to keep things professional. Nicholas was just another coworker in a way, a means to an end for both of you. But there was something about him, his quiet confidence, the way he challenged you without overstepping, and how he didn’t take himself too seriously, that was starting to get under your skin.

It’s just because he’s new, you told yourself. Once the buzz dies down, so will this—whatever it is.

Still, a small part of you wondered if he felt the same pull. He wasn’t like most people you worked with, who saw you as a means to elevate their own image. Nicholas had seemed genuinely curious about you today, more interested in watching you work than using your name for clout.

Later that night, you scrolled through Instagram, where fans were dissecting every detail of your joint posts. Nicholas had posted first—just a picture of the set with a cryptic caption: “Quiet on set. She’s working.” You’d followed up an hour later with a similar post, careful not to include him in the shot.

The game was still on.

As you lay in bed, your thoughts drifted again. You didn’t want to admit it, but you enjoyed his company far more than you expected. Maybe too much. And that was dangerous. The last thing you needed was to blur the lines between professional and personal.

But then you remembered the way he looked at you today, like you were more than just a headline or a pretty face. Could you really keep this strictly professional? Or was it already too late?

With a frustrated sigh, you rolled over and closed your eyes, determined not to let this turn into something bigger. Tomorrow, it would be back to business. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Taglist: @blackynsupremacy @rafeysslut @lanadelreysvs

[tyongf-nct]

Ooo I hab a smut one!

Roommate beomgyu who catches you off-guard while you are busy watching/masterbating to porn and asks if he could join with a smirk 🤭

Have fun ♡

😩 I died reading this (and writing it)

dynamic: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings/tags: smut, mutual masturbation, watching porn, roommate!beomgyu

~

Your orgasm shot through you, your scalp tingling as your thighs tighten with pleasure. The video playing on your phone continues in the background, high-pitched moans ringing out as the adult actors on screen continue in their scene. You sigh in satisfaction, barely able to move to pause the video and grab a tissue.

“Having fun?” A familiar voice echoes from the doorway. You jump, head swiveling to see your roommate Beongyu standing suspiciously relaxed in your doorway.

“What the hell!” You shriek, grabbing the sheets to cover your lower half. You were still covered up top, but the thin material of your shirt didn’t stop the peak of your nipples from showing through.

“I think I’ve seen that video before. Good choice,” Beomgyu smirks. You scoff, rolling your eyes before chucking a pillow at him. He dodged it easily, entering your room and plopping himself down on your bed.

“Jesus, can’t a girl get a little privacy around here?”

Beomgyu shrugs, pointing to your open door. “You didn’t even bother to close it before rubbing one out.”

You roll your eyes again, unable to come up with a comeback. Truthfully, you liked the risk of your roommate walking in on you getting yourself off. The fact that he didn’t seem particularly bothered gave you a spark of hope. If anything, he seemed rather cocky about it.

“I…” You trailed off. The smirk turned into a small smile.

“Can I join you?” He asked. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Huh?” Smooth.

“Can I join you? I feel kind of left out, now. I haven’t jerked off since last night, anyway. I’m all tense,” he shrugged carelessly. Your brain short-circuited, that small spark of hope turning into a roaring flame.

“Y-yeah, sure. You can,” you stumbled. Beomgyu grinned, eyebrows raising.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you were more sure, “You can.”

Beomgyu nodded, then moved to sit beside you. A few awkward seconds of clothing removal and seating adjustment later, the two of you were sitting side by side, naked from the waist down, with your phone sitting propped between you. All nerves went out the window, though, when Beomgyu began to stroke his half-hard cock as the video began playing again. You were immediately wet again, your clit pulsing in need as you slid your fingers between your legs. Your eyes strayed from the screen and went to Beomgyu’s hand on his thick cock, watching as his grip slid from base to tip with a sensual rhythm. His breathing stuttered every time his thumb grazed the tip, and your mouth watered as you wondered what the pre-come beading at the slit would taste like.

You dared a glance at his face, flinching when your eyes met. Beomgyu had already been looking at you, watching you, as you got yourself off. The two of you didn’t speak, bringing yourselves pleasure as you watched the other do the same. The audio from the video seemed to fade away, only the sharp intakes of breath and slick sounds of skin on skin ringing through the air. You let your head fall back, eyes glued on Beomgyu as your second orgasm suddenly took over. Your toes curled and your spine tingled, a soft moan escaping when Beomgyu’s cock twitched and the spurt of white come roped in the air and splashed down onto his stomach.

“Fuck,” he groaned tightly, bottom lip enraptured by his teeth. His pupils were dilated and skin flushed as he jerked with his climax. Finally his head fell back on the pillows like yours, dirty hand falling limply to the side.

“Still feeling left out?” You huffed. He laughed loudly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“No way. Feeling pretty fucking good right now, actually.”

[dc418writes]

If You Can’t Stand the Heat…

✨Pairing✨: Brendan “Mid-Size Sedan”xblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your first Christmas with your boyfriend’s parents. What could go wrong?

🚨: allusion to a deceased parent, language, pretty much all fluff💕 (aside from an overbearing mother👀)

A/N🎤: Happy New Year and belated holidays🥂✨! So clearly this did not come out when I originally planned, but I still hope yall enjoy! Also stating the other obvious in the room, for those who have seen Old were ignoring the end this character saw and in my mind he is in fact alive and well🥰 (for those who haven’t seen, sorry for the spoiler lol)

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were found via Pinterest and Google*

“My baby boy!”

Brendan’s practically tackled by his own mother as she hurries into the brightly lit foyer hugging him tight while gently swaying back and forth. Her usual floral scent instantly takes him back to his childhood dancing around the living room and helping her in the kitchen - until his playful, mischievous ways would get the best of him that is.

“Hey ma,” he chuckles hugging her just as tight. Being away for most of the year, he admittedly missed her nearly crushing hugs.

“Cmon now Kat let the boy breathe.” Both arms attempting to carry all their luggage, his father, Devon, manages to close the door behind them using his foot. Not without needing to quickly rebalance himself from the shift of weight though. “So he can help with this luggage.”

“Oh, I got it!”

Both his parents seem to freeze at the new unfamiliar voice, quickly peeking past their son to the figure waving and moving closer. “Now who in the hell..?,” his mother thinks watching the black curls atop your head bounce with every step until you stop beside her son.

“Nah, it’s okay baby imma get it.”

And when he pecks your temple - making that sweet smile on your glossy lips brighten like the shimmering lights on the miniature Christmas tree in the corner - Devon can already see the flames and chaos swirling in his wife’s mind. “Oh lord, here we go.”

“Brendan,” although smiling herself, Katherine’s is clearly one mixed with confusion looking between the both of you, “w-who is your uh..little guest here?”

“This is my girl-,”

Everything muted after hearing that. Girlfriend? When did this happen? And why did she not know until now? Being his mother, she should’ve been the first to know! God knows what this little girl had planned up her sleeve for her innocent baby boy.

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” Katherine manages to snap out of her trance just in time to watch you move towards her with arm extended after shaking Devon’s hand. “Brendan’s told me so much about both of you.”

“Aw that’s so nice. Sadly I’ve heard nothing of you though sweetheart.” That hit you just as she expected, making your smile falter and dim as her son nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Not that I wasn’t plannin’ to,” he quickly tries to rectify. “But from the interviews and studio sessions-,”

“The other week you sent me that beat you were working on. Sounds like a perfect time to me.”

Devon could read his boy just as well as his mother, and he might as well have ‘SOS’ tattooed on his forehead right about now. This ship was sinking faster than a boat made of Swiss cheese in the middle of summer, and he couldn’t just let him drown.

Quickly clearing his throat, he successfully gains everyone’s attention - for now at least, “B why don’t you uh show us around this place.”

-

Sat in the middle of the California king bed - white comforter and sheet just as pristine as fresh snow blanketing your newly washed and moisturized legs - you can’t stop replaying the events from dinner in your head. Overall you’d say it was nice, all of you talking and laughing while enjoying your homemade chicken pot pie. Brendan’s dad even complimented you saying it reminded him of something his own grandmother would’ve made.

Katherine, however, didn’t appear too impressed. About a few things besides the food really.

“It’s good sweetheart, a tad bit salty, but alright,” she curtly smiled. And maybe it was just you, but you wondered if that was just a teaser for things to come.

“Does your mom like me?,” you ask as soon as your boyfriend exits the bathroom with black, satin durag in hand.

“Course she does. Why? She say somethin?”

“No, I just…” you frustratedly sigh partly regretting bringing it up as you toy with the sterling silver chain around your wrist. Specifically the one that matched Brendan’s. “I dunno I get this feeling.”

Fingers securing the last knot, his hand reaches for yours pulling you closer into his side as he slides into bed himself. The mint from his lips prickling against your temple as he places two kisses there. “Bae everything’s fine, alright? If my ma had an issue, trust she’ll say it.”

•

“I don’t like her.”

Since closing the door to their hotel-like suite of a guest room, Katherine hadn’t stopped complaining and running her mouth about you.

“I bet she invited herself tryin to squeeze her way in.”

“I dunno where she got that recipe from but it ain’t all that. And you heard how she call herself decorating everything? Tuh, Ray Charles could do better.”

Devon just wanted to watch his Lakers in peace.

“Kat just give the girl a chance. You don’t even know her.”

“And I don’t want to,” she answers walking out the bathroom rubbing some sort of cream on her arms. “Brendan‘s soon gonna be over her like all the rest.”

“You never know,” her husband simply sighs, adjusting the pillow under his chin. To anyone else, it would just be a menial statement, however Katherine could sense there was something more her dear husband might be hiding.

Turning off the flatscreen and crossing her arms across her chest, Devon’s now equally as frustrated as his wife throwing his hands out with an “Aye!,” and silently wishing he snuck to the theater room while she was in the shower.

“You knew she was gonna be here didn’t you?”

“No!”

“But you knew about her,” she states pointing a signature red manicured finger.

He might as well forget about the game. She was gonna be at this all night. “Did he outright say something? No, but from what he asked I figured there was somebody.”

“Andd?,” she asks twisting her wrist, urging Devon to come out with the rest already. “What’d he ask?”

“Father son confidentiality,” he smirks holding his hands up in surrender.

“Bullshit, I carried that big headed boy for almost 10 months you better start talking Dee.”

He chuckles knowing she’d say that. “Stuff about our relationship: how I knew you were the one, being long distance, marriage-,”

“Marriage?! They just met!”

“We don’t know-,”

“Oh lord,” she gasps beginning to pace, “she’s pregnant!”

“Nah, I don’t think-,”

“That’s why he’s thinking of marriage, meanwhile jezebel thinking she’s gettin a free ride. And the baby might not even be his!”

His wife really needed to stop watching those made for tv movies. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, he can easily reach out and gently grip Katherine’s elbow guiding his worried wife to sit beside him.

“Relax alright? You gettin all worked up for potentially nothing,” he states pecking her temple.

“But-,”

“Get to know the girl, please. For the sake of Brendan.” Kat’s little huff is enough of an acceptable answer that he’s turning the tv back on hoping to finish the remainder of the game.

Katherine’s mind was already made up though, and this girl wasn’t about to mess with her baby and ruin everything he had. A mother’s intuition was never wrong, and she knew what needed to be done.

-

It had only been three days and you were sure you’d somehow been transported to hell at some point in your sleep. If it wasn’t her little comments about you, Katherine was either squeezing her way in your alone time with Brendan or finding a way to exclude you.

The movie night you and Brendan planned in the theater room when his parents were asleep? Crashed by her claiming she couldn’t sleep. The trip to a local tree farm to see all the Christmas lights that was supposed to be all four of you? She swears you told her you weren’t ‘feeling great’ before you went to the restroom, prompting them to leave you home.

“Maybe we can go again after Christmas?,” she suggested when they returned.

“Yea maybe,” you replied with your most saccharine smile similar to the one on her own lips.

With everyone still asleep upstairs, you took advantage of your alone time to bake your signature molasses cookies passed down to you from your mother. Like her, baking always brought you peace and filled you with fond memories of big laughs, messy hands, and flour in your hair and mysteriously on the ceiling.

“Momma I really need you right now,” you quietly speak to the open air as you mix your ingredients together finalizing your dough.

The sound of the hand mixer covers Katherine’s footsteps causing you to jump when you feel her presence over your shoulder.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to scare you.” You really hated that nickname. Especially when it came from her mouth and would then usually come with some snide comment. “Thought you heard me when I said good mornin.”

“It’s okay and no, my mind’s uh somewhere else.”

“Yea these cookies,” she smiles watching you cutout various holiday themed shapes. “Looks like you got a good mess here too.”

Here we go. Luckily your back was towards her as she readied her coffee, giving you freedom to roll your eyes without getting caught. “Yea, I know,” you nervously chuckle. “I’m almost done though so I’ll get to them in a minute.”

“S’why you should really clean as you go. Less to do in the end.”

“True, but I get so wrapped up with-,”

“Brown and regular sugar?,” she asks noticing both containers on the counter. “They’ll be too sweet.”

Was she really trying to tell you how to make something you’ve done since you were able to walk? “No, they’ll be fine. I’ve made it plenty times before.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be tweaked though,” she innocently shrugs.

“Also true,” you forcibly smile feeling your skin begin to heat with frustration, “but this one is fine. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“Two wrongs don’t make a right sweetheart.” And at that, you snapped unable to take anymore. You left your mess, your tools, and dough just needing to get away before your mouth and anger made you do something you’d regret.

You didn’t even speak to Devon as you rushed past making his brows furrow not used to you in an unpleasant mood. Seeing his wife also in the kitchen - calmly drinking out of a mug - he can guess what might’ve been the cause though. “What did you do?”

“Nothin,” Katherine answers nonchalantly before dipping a spoon into the leftover dough for a taste. “Hm, not too sweet like she said. Girl a little Miss Betty Crocker.”

“You know who you actin like right?”

“I know you betta not say who I think.”

“And because you thinking it means it’s true,” he retorts. “Bein’ just like my momma.”

“Aht, take it back!,” she points her spoon placing her mug down. “That woman never liked me from the start and let me know it. Shoot I think she still don’t like me.”

“And you not doing the same thing? That girl’s been nothing but nice and respectful to you when anybody else would’ve been said something.

His words clearly have some affect how her once stubborn expression turns soft. Her previous actions and words now all she can think of reminding her of the woman she swore she’d never be like when she had kids.

“You know you wrong Kat.”

•

“Where you goin?,” Brendan asks watching you throw your clothes in your suitcase unzipped and wide open on the floor of his walk in closet.

“Home.”

“Home? Why you-,”

“Look I know you wanted all of us to be together for Christmas, but this ain’t working B,” you answer with watery eyes still focused on the task in front of you.

“What do you mean? Aye, stop and look at me.” Gently gripping your wrists, he manages to halt your frantic packing so you’ll meet his worried eyes turning a bluish hue. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t with your mom and her little comments anymore,” you quietly admit. “She clearly doesn’t like me and I’m not staying somewhere I’m not wanted.”

“You are wanted. This is my house and I say you stay, alright? My ma just…takes some getting used to. And once she warms up to you-,”

Such a momma’s boy answer. “You mean if she wants to warm up to me,” you retort slipping out of his grip to return to your packing.

“I get it,” Brendan sighs, “she can be a lot. It’s just how she is though.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to deal with or accept it for the sake of your comfort.”

“Hold up, you calling me weak now?,” he asks stepping closer to you.

Slamming your suitcase shut, your arms cross over your chest looking up at the 6’3 man in front of you not daring to stand down. “No, I’m saying you’re a loyal son, which I love. But that loyalty is putting me in an environment I don’t feel safe or protected in.” You hope his silence means he’s finally taking in your words. “So I think it’s best I leave.”

He tries once more to clutch your arm as you pass, softly calling out your name, but you move just out of reach. “I’ll text when I get to my place.”

-

At the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, Katherine quickly stands to see you with your suitcase and Brendan on your heels trying to get your attention.

“Bae I’ll handle it, just stay. Please,” he whispers.

“My Uber’s already on the way,” you reply sniffling.

“You can’t leave!,” she states making you pause just as the both of you finish your decent. One look at your reddened, tired eyes from crying and she can feel her heart break knowing she was the cause. “Listen I-,”

“Ma I don’t know what the problem is, but you need to relax,” Brendan interrupts standing in between the two most important women in his life.

“Brendan-,”

“Look I love you ma, but I can’t have you mistreating the other woman I love.” His head turns towards you - twists swishing back and forth - so you can see the sincerity and deep love behind those hypnotizing eyes. Their intensity making you breath catch in your throat and more tears ready to run. “My future wife and mother of my kids.

Even Katherine’s ready to sob at her son’s words. Anyone could see the love between you two, and at the end of the day she knew you were good for Brendan - bringing out the best in him and making him happier than she’s seen in a while - but her protective, mothering nature just couldn’t accept she might not be needed anymore.

“Thank you,” you mouth reaching for his hand to peck his knuckles.

“So whatever issue you got, handle it now or else don’t worry about coming back,” Brendan finishes with you under his arm.

“Excuse me?,” Katherine asks with an amused tilt to her lips and hands on her hips. He could feel everyone looking at him as if he’d lost his mind with that last statement, and while it felt good he admittedly might’ve gone too far.

“R-Respectfully I mean,” he quickly corrects.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” she says jokingly smacking his shoulder. “You’re right though. This whole trip I haven’t given your lovely girlfriend a chance and I’m sorry. I’ve had that happen to me and know how much it hurts, so I should’ve known better. That mama bear decided to rear her head and got the best of me.

She sighs wiping away the couple tears that managed to fall on her cheeks, “You two really do make a beautiful couple and I’m glad my boy met someone truly good for him. I’m so sorry again and know it’ll take some time, but hope you can eventually forgive me.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” you softly smile, “and hey, can’t have the holidays without some drama right?”

“I guess not,” she giggles along with Brendan and Devon. “But from here on out no more.”

Holding out her arms, she’s a bit surprised when you immediately accept her hug. Both of you holding each other tight as if the morning’s earlier events never happened. “To new beginnings and starting over.”

[notjustjavierpena]

Doesn’t javier’s wife get tantrums when she is pregnant?

Unreasonable (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: She sure as fuck does. Javier is too in love with the idea of her carrying his child to get mad about it though.

Summary: First-time pregnancy and a husband who breathes a little too loudly is enough to make you rage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, pregnancy and all the following symptoms (e.g. puking), pregnancy rage, cravings, kisses, reader is hormonal and unreasonable

Word count: 1.5k

Unreasonable

“Could you breathe a little louder?” You ask from the bed. You throw your novel to the side, unable to concentrate, while sending daggers in your husband’s direction. 

You are sitting against the headboard of your bed with all the decoration pillows scattered across the sheets, unable to find one that seems to do the job of supporting your aching back during your first pregnancy. This second trimester is hell on Earth; morning sickness, sore breasts and back, hormones running amok in your system, and no way of getting comfortable. It doesn’t help that Javier seems physically unbothered, daring to move around with ease in your shared home while folding laundry. 

“Honey,” he says gently, turning towards you with a smile that you find provoking, “I’m not breathing differently than I usually do.”

You seethe from your position because you know he is right. The book you were reading amongst several candy wrappers lies face down next to you as if it’s hiding before Javier has figured that is what he should be doing too. You cross your arms over your chest but your boobs feel too big and sore for you to do it the way you normally would. Every instinct in your mind is telling you to attack because you have no way of seeming reasonable in this, “Do you have to squeeze a soccer ball out of your pussy in three months?”

Javier raises his eyebrows at your crude choice of words and your terrifying mental image, “No…”

“That’s right,” you huff and then suddenly you are off into a scolding interrogation that Javier can do nothing about but endure. Your stare can freeze the sun, “Let’s see. Do you have to pee all the time?”

“No…”

You go on, “Do you find yourself crying over commercials on the TV with no way of stopping it?”

“No.” 

“What about your pelvic floor?” You think smoke might be coming out of your ears, “Do you feel like it is going to rupture when you try to reach something you have dropped on the floor?”

“Honey…”

“Does your back hurt so much that you contemplate if it’s easier to just pee your pants instead of getting up?” You ask. Ironically, you have the biggest urge to get up and pace around the room like a caged animal.

“I could massage your back,” he suggests so sweetly but not even that can calm your rage. 

“Haven’t you done enough?” You growl, “This is your little fucking love-goblin growing inside of me and all you had to do was grunt like a caveman and roll over.”

Javier blinks, trying a feeble protest, “Baby… I don’t think tha—“

“Don’t you ‘Baby’ me!” You rage against him, heart beating rapidly in your chest, “I am here either suffering in bed or waddling around like a goddamn incubator! The least you can do is try to make me feel better!” 

“I just offered a massage that you declined so maybe you want some time for yourself instead?” He tries again.

“Time for myself? How on Earth am I supposed to spend time for myself when you are breathing so loudly that our neighbors can hear it?” You avoid his gaze. 

He opens his mouth to speak but you are not done.

“Not to mention the nausea that follows me everywhere I go. Quality time with good old nausea!��� You throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, “If I had a dollar for every time I have puked up my guts since you put this baby in me, I could buy myself a private island and be rid of your wheezing airways!”

You inhale deeply and frantically as you run out of breath. It’s then you decide that you are done, scooting further down on the bed to lie down on your side with one of the pillows supporting your pregnant belly. 

You fume quietly. Javier stands immovable. 

Eventually, you pout too. Your husband moves to stand by your side but he doesn’t touch you, “How about we order some food? Do you want to order some food?”

“Actually, Javi, no, I don’t want to order some food,” you reply, still with an attitude. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He gently presses on. 

“Yes, obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t say it.”

“I’m gonna order some food for myself then,” he lets you know, walking back to pick up the laundry basket. 

“Yes, fine, whatever,” you sigh loudly, “I don’t care.”

But you do care. As soon as the doorbell rings with Javier’s food delivery, you have thought about the million different things that he might have gotten for himself to eat and it has caused your stomach to rumble. You pout for real this time. 

Eventually, it becomes too much and you get onto your feet, tiptoeing down the stairs to satisfy your curiosity. You don’t need the food; you just want to see if your guesses about Javier’s dinner menu are correct.

You peek out from behind the door frame, staring into the kitchen where he is placing the delivery bag on the counter. The whole house smells like pizza and fried food, the scent having dragged you downstairs to gaze longingly as your husband is rummaging through the plastic bag to empty it of its contents. 

You spot the box of french fries next to a strawberry milkshake and frown, shifting slightly where you stand and trying not to feel emotional about your stomach growling for food. You lean your cheek against the doorframe and sigh loudly. 

“Hola, mi amor (hello, my love),” your husband suddenly says and even if you purposely made him aware of your presence in the room, you still feel on the spot when he notices you. 

“Hi,” you try to get a better glimpse of what he has ordered for himself, “What are you having?”

“I decided on that pizza place on the corner where you also get your haircut sometimes,” he says nonchalantly and you curse your emotions for getting the better of you earlier. You love that place. 

“Really?” You whimper. 

“Yeah,” he continues and stuffs a few fries into his mouth as he takes out a pizza box from the bag, “I really wanted one of their shakes. You know… the ones made from three scoops of ice cream? And then I thought I might as well get some fries because you taught me about dipping them into it, remember that?”

“Y-yeah,” you suddenly feel your bottom lip starting to tremble. The idea of not having a strawberry shake in your hand and their pepperoni pizza with a stuffed crust is close to torture, making you so unbelievably upset that you start to cry big and ugly tears. 

Javier tenses. He abandons the food on the counter the second he hears you, taking long steps to get to you quickly. He wipes his fingers in his shirt so he can brush tears away from your face, cooing softly as you wail, “Honey, shhh… There’s no need to cry.”

“I’m sorry, I was so mean,” you blubber to the point where you are heaving for breath, pregnant belly jumping as your whole body trembles, “I didn’t know that I wanted their milkshake and pizza so badly and now it feels like I am missing out. It’s really stupid but… The baby wants that strawberry milkshake, Javi.”

“I know,” he soothes and laughs softly as he brings you into his arms, giving you a hug whilst you continue your miserable crying, “That’s why I got you one.”

“What?” You sniffle, pulling back to look at him and showing off your red, puffy eyes. 

“I got you a shake,” he clarifies with a small smile, “And I ordered you a pepperoni pizza too.”

Relief washes over you and you cannot help letting out a little, shaky laugh amidst your tears, “You did?” 

Javier nods, eyes soft and smile warm, “Of course, I did. Te conozco (I know you).”

“With a stuffed crust?” You ask, suddenly shy and looking innocently through your lashes. You feel like you’re thirteen again, crushing on your husband all over. 

“Stuffed crust,” he confirms and the smile turns into a grin. He presses a kiss to your cheek and blows a raspberry until you giggle, “No need to cry. El bebé sabe que su mamá está triste (The baby knows their mom is sad)."

“Can’t have that,” you wrap both arms around him and repeatedly kiss his face; nose, cheeks, lips, chin. He closes his eyes, taking each with a sigh that’s nowhere near annoyed. You kiss his lips in the end, “Gracias, esposo (thank you, husband).”

“De nada, mi amor (you’re welcome, my love),” he lets go of you after one last kiss, walking to dig out one more strawberry milkshake from the plastic bag and then handing it to you. 

You take a long sip and do a happy dance without thinking. Meanwhile, Javier gets out your pizza too and suddenly all memory of why you were so angry earlier is gone.

.

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[buddie-buddie]

you'll find that you were never not mine

5.1k - explicit - buck x tommy - read on ao3

In his thirty two trips around the sun, Buck has done plenty of things he’s proud of. He’s run headfirst into burning buildings. He’s saved lives. He’s reunited with his sister and survived being crushed by a ladder truck and been named the legal guardian of the coolest kid in the world. 

He’s felt pride before. But never like this. 

This is different. It’s intoxicating and addicting and everything Buck never realized he could have. Everything Buck never realized he deserved. Not until now. 

Not until Tommy. 

The swell of pride behind his ribs, the warmth flooding his chest and beating through his body, it isn’t foreign, not entirely. But he’s never felt it all quite like this. It’s never consumed him like this. It’s never been so heady, so dizzying, so absolutely electrifying. He wants to bottle it up and carry it around in his pocket and take hits from it when no one is looking.

It’s a high he’d gladly spend the rest of his life chasing, if he could only be so lucky. 

Never before has he felt so alive, so proud and worthy and good. There’s a deep, intoxicating pleasure to it, tiny bursts of ecstasy skittering across his skin and dancing up his spine as he looks down at Tommy. 

Tommy, who’s lying beneath him, with his eyes sparkling and a wild, sated grin stretching across his face. His chest heaves as he catches his breath, his heart hammering beneath kiss-bitten, come-covered skin. He has one hand still fisted in the sheets, the other splayed across Buck’s chest. 

“C’mere,” Tommy says, voice rough and heavy. He sounds absolutely destroyed. And that alone sends sparks flying across Buck’s skin, electricity crackling behind his chest as he realizes it was because of him. He did that. 

The pride flares in his chest as he lets Tommy pull him in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. 

“S’that good?” Buck mumbles against Tommy’s mouth. 

Tommy pulls back, just enough to give Buck a look of absolute bewilderment. “Was that good?” he echoes, eyes wide. “I haven’t come that hard in–– I don’t even know. I–Yeah,” he says, huffing out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, Evan. It was good.”

Buck’s breath catches in his throat, pride swelling in his chest as Tommy’s praise sets him ablaze. As does the way he calls him Evan. A name Buck usually hated now makes warmth bloom behind his ribs when it falls from Tommy’s lips. 

Buck can always hear the smile behind it, can feel the fondness as it settles over him, grounding him in a way that still feels just as exciting as the very first time.  

Buck just…. well, he never corrected him. He’s usually pretty quick to ask people to call him Buck, but for some reason he never did when it came to Tommy. Buck used to think that his nickname was reserved for the people who know him, but then along came Tommy with his sparkly eyes and his adorable nose scrunches and his kind heart and his fingers beneath Buck’s chin and well– Buck is starting to think maybe Tommy knows him better than he thinks. 

It was only a month ago that Tommy had kissed him and his world exploded. Everything was suddenly a little bit brighter, a little bit warmer. Nothing had changed, per se, and yet everything was better. So much better. 

It reminds Buck of that part in the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy steps into technicolor. When the sepia tones disappear and there’s nothing but bright, beautiful color. It’s not that Buck’s life before this was bad. It was just… sepia toned. And now that he’s had a taste of technicolor, he can’t believe he ever lived without it. 

He’d be lying if he said part of him doesn’t mourn the fact that it took him three decades to get here. But now that he’s arrived? Well, he’s making up for lost time. 

Tommy pulls Buck back in for another kiss, this one softer and sweeter than the one before it. And yet, it still sends the same zip of pleasure up Buck’s spine, the same rush of desire thrumming beneath his skin. 

Initially, Buck thought that the night Tommy kissed him for the first time was the moment when all the pieces clicked into place. But he was quick to realize that wasn’t the case at all. It wasn’t all the pieces that night, not really. More like it was the edges of the puzzle, the corner pieces that guide the rest of the journey. It was the moment when you press the edges together and have a real perimeter, and for the first time, it all feels possible. It was the realization that something will come of all the jumbled up pieces scattered in front of you. Something real. Something beautiful. 

And the more time he spends with Tommy, the more the pieces fall into place. 

A few days after their coffee date, Tommy had taken him for a flying lesson– the first of many, he had promised. The flying was fun, not to mention how hot it was having a front-row seat to watch Tommy in his element, this time with permission to stare. But the best part of the day was when they left the airstrip and Tommy reached down and took Buck’s hand in his. 

They walked to Tommy’s car hand in hand, and Buck didn’t miss the way his mind quieted the second Tommy’s fingers intertwined with his own. Being with Tommy settled something deep inside of Buck, it eased his mind and quieted the noise he hadn’t realized had once been so loud– not until Tommy smiled at him and suddenly, everything wasn’t so loud anymore. Everything wasn’t so hard anymore.  

Buck likes being with Tommy. He likes the weight of Tommy’s hand in his and the brush of his stubble against his chin. He likes the feel of Tommy’s lips on his and the way his skin sparks each time they touch. He likes being on the receiving end of raised eyebrows and nose scrunches and a quiet, fond, “Evan.” He likes it all. 

Never before has Buck been in a relationship where he’s felt so good and settled and safe. Which isn’t to say he felt unsafe with any of his exes. It’s just…. it’s different with Tommy. Buck feels safe to explore, safe to not know things, safe to not be the guy with the answers all the time. Safe to figure out who he is, what he wants, what he likes. Safe to just be.

He feels safe with Tommy. Proud, too. God, he’s so fucking proud to be with Tommy. 

He still has hard days— occupational hazard, and all. But even when his days are hard, they’re still good. Any day with Tommy is good. 

Today, though? Today is the best of them all. 

Today, Buck has Tommy in his bed. Laid out beneath him like a fucking god, looking like he’s been cut from marble and sent from the heavens just for Buck. He’s perfect, so perfect, with his kiss-swollen lips and lust-blown eyes and bruises starting to bloom beneath the trail of dark hair leading down his chest. 

Buck swears he’s dreaming. It would make it the longest, most vivid dream he’s ever had, but it’s the only explanation. There’s no way a human being can feel this good– there’s just no fucking way. He must have the flu– or maybe that nasty virus Eddie had mentioned was going around Christopher’s class– and his temperature’s climbed so high that he’s started hallucinating. There’s just no way this is real life. 

It’s not like Buck is a stranger to sex. Kind of the opposite, actually. He’s had his fair share of it, all of which was blown clear out of the water the first time Tommy got his hands on him. It’s not that it was necessarily bad with any of his exes. Sex with Tommy is just… better. Much like everything else with Tommy is revealing itself to be. 

At first, Buck thought it was the newness of it all. Like there was a honeymoon phase of sorts, something that would vanish the next time he found himself lucky enough to be in bed with Tommy. He wondered if it would pop suddenly like a balloon that’s floated too high, or if it would slowly ebb away like the tide from the shore, gone before he realized it was. Or maybe it would melt like the wings of Icarus from flying too close to the bright, dazzling radiance that is Tommy Kinard, and he’d come crashing down, cushioned only by the memories of what they once had. 

Except it didn’t. It didn’t pop, didn’t ebb. It hasn’t melted, or vanished, or even dimmed for so much as a fleeting moment. It’s been a month since the first time they got their hands on each other, and it’s still just as electric, just as intoxicating. 

In fact, it’s only gotten better. 

Granted, the first time was a rush of hungry kisses and frantic grinding and come-stained jeans against the door of Buck’s loft. So really, it was only up from there. 

The second time, Tommy got his mouth on Buck and Buck swore he was next in line to meet Jesus. There was the time that Tommy had jerked them off together, both of them in one hand, as if that wasn’t the single hottest thing Buck had ever experienced. And the time Tommy blew him in the shower and then stood up and stripped his own cock until he came on Buck’s abs with a shout. And then there was today. Today happened to be the first time Buck got Tommy off all by himself, and it was… transformative. 

Buck has never, in all his life, known pride quite like he has today. 

Earlier, they had stumbled into Buck’s loft after dinner at his favorite place around the corner, barely through the door before they were on each other, swapping heavy, frenzied kisses.

“Upstairs,” Buck had breathed, punctuating his request with a kiss. “Please.”

“So polite,” Tommy hummed, and Buck could feel his lips stretching into a grin beneath his. He followed Buck up the stairs, their fingers laced together the entire time. Buck dropped backwards onto the mattress, fisting his hands in the lapels of Tommy’s jacket and pulling him down with him. 

They made out for a while, grinding and rutting against each other fully clothed like teenagers, rather than two thirty-something men with all the time and space and freedom to take each other apart properly. 

Tommy pulled away just long enough to tug off his jacket and toss it on the floor behind him. Buck whined at the momentary loss of touch, chasing after it with an arch of his back that had Tommy swearing beneath his breath before diving back in and kissing Buck again. 

“You need to use your words, baby,” Tommy said between kisses, his voice low and breathy in a way that had heat zipping up Buck’s spine. Tommy’s mouth trailed a line of hot kisses across Buck’s jaw and down his neck, nosing at his pulse point and relishing in the way doing so made Buck’s breath catch in his throat. The pet name lit him up, made him feel warm and sparkly all over, like live wires were crackling beneath his skin and setting him on fire in the very best way. 

It was exhilarating and absolutely intoxicating, and Buck wanted to live the rest of his life feeling this happy, this floaty, this good. 

“Please,” Buck’s voice was hoarse, thick with lust and desire as he pushed the word out past the arousal climbing up his throat and threatening to consume him. 

Tommy’s warm breath ghosted across the shell of Buck’s ear as he all but purred, “That’s it. Tell me what you want.” 

“I–” Buck froze for a minute, suddenly unable to form words. He didn’t know where to begin. 

He wanted it all, whatever Tommy would give him. Whatever he could be so lucky to have before this beautiful, delicate bubble popped and the magic disappeared and sepia tones began to bleed into technicolor and the jig was up. Because really, it all felt just a little too good to be true. 

“A-Anything. Whatever you want.”

Tommy made a tsk sound under his breath, but there was no malice behind it, no shame. Instead, just warmth and patience and a fond, familiar sparkle in his blue eyes that made Buck’s chest ache. “Evan,” he had said, his thumb ghosting over Buck’s birthmark before coming to bracket his temple. It was a gesture so simple yet so intimate, it nearly split Buck in two. “What do you want?”

Buck stopped for a beat, letting Tommy’s words settle over him. He felt the fondness behind them all the way in his bones, and something about that made him feel whole, made him feel seen. The words were out before Buck could stop them. “I want to be good for you.”

“You are,” Tommy assured him without so much as a second’s hesitation. He stole another kiss. “You’re perfect.”

Buck’s instinct was to duck away from the praise that settled over him like a balm, soothing the rapidly-fraying edges of his sanity and warming him from the inside out. But Tommy didn’t let him. His fingers hooked beneath Buck’s chin, tilting it back up until their eyes met and Tommy said, “None of that.” His voice was so warm, so gentle and fond and soft, it made Buck’s chest ache. “You can have what you want,” Tommy told him. “Just gotta ask for it.”

Buck’s breath stuttered, his heart hammering against his chest. “I wanna get you off,” he said, barely recognizing the heady rasp in his voice. “Want to take care of you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

Tommy’s eyes were wild as he bit back a groan, as he closed the distance between their lips and kissed Buck for all he’s worth. Without breaking the kiss, he sat back, pulling Buck with him. He tapped Buck’s thigh, humming in appreciation as Buck got the memo and slung a knee over Tommy’s thighs. He settled in Tommy’s lap with a slow, experimental roll of his hips that had both of them seeing stars and struggling to catch their breath. 

Buck loved this, he fucking loved it, being manhandled like this. Tommy’s hands are big and strong and Buck’s never felt better than when they’re on him. He loved that Tommy could take him, that he can hold him and move him however he pleases. It sent a rush of heat dancing across his skin, lust and desire pooling in his belly.

“You’re so good,” Tommy told him, and the words danced up Buck’s spine, heat licking at his skin as he felt a flush creep up his neck. “The best boy.” 

Holy fuck. Tommy knew exactly what he needed to hear, exactly what to say to drive Buck past the point of crazy and all the way to borderline hysteria. Buck whined against Tommy’s lips, rocking his hips as his fingers dug into Tommy’s waist. 

Tommy’s fingers pushed up beneath the hem of Buck’s shirt, splaying out across the warm skin of his lower back. Buck arched his back in a silent invitation, one Tommy accepted instantly, tugging Buck’s shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor before doing the same to his own. He dropped back against the pillows, looking up at Buck with a happy, hungry grin. Tommy’s hands settled on Buck’s hips just as Buck rolled them again, grinding down on Tommy’s lap before dropping down to his forearms, bracketed on either side of Tommy’s head as he kissed him again. 

“Fuck,” Tommy panted into Buck’s mouth. He rocked up against Buck, his grip on him tightening as his eyes raked over him with a look that could only be described as insatiable. “Look at you.” Tommy’s voice was low, thick with arousal and something that sounded a lot like awe. 

Buck blushed, heat rushing up his neck and burning in his cheeks as he dipped his chin, dropping his gaze with a shy smile. “Hey,” Tommy said gently. It was just one word, but it was unmistakably fond, so much so that it left Buck swallowing past a lump in his throat and pushing down a rush of emotion. Tommy’s fingers were beneath Buck’s chin again, tipping it up gently until their eyes met. “No hiding,” Tommy whispered.

Buck found himself relaxing almost instantly, shyness fading away as he held Tommy’s gaze. Buck’s mind instantly quieted as he stared up at bright, piercing blue that was somehow still soft and kind, gentle in a way that made Buck feel warm and safe. Tommy’s eyes are flanked in tiny, nearly invisible tan lines, courtesy of the way his skin crinkles when he smiles. The lines are barely visible, but Buck already knows them by heart. He’s kissed them and traced them and seen them when he closes his own eyes, in those heavy, floaty moments right before he falls asleep. 

He sees Tommy’s eyes in his dreams, and in the ones when he’s awake, too. He loves the way they sparkle, the mischievous glint behind them that only Buck seems to earn. He could lose himself in them, could drown in the warm, wild, cerulean seas that set his heart on fire and his mind at ease. What a way to go.

Tommy smiled, leaned in and kissed him. It grew heavy quickly, breaking only when Tommy pulled back to draw in a shaky breath. “How d’you want me?”

Jesus Christ. 

Buck’s throat ran dry, clicking as he swallowed and let Tommy’s words hang in the air between them. He placed a hand on Tommy’s broad chest, his fingers splaying out across the smooth skin shrouded in a smattering of dark hair. Tommy’s eyes flitted between Buck’s eyes and his hand, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eyebrows raising as Buck pushed him back until his head hit the pillows. 

“Just like this,” Buck said. He took a deep breath, shaky on the exhale as he looked down at Tommy laid out beneath him, drinking in every inch of him, melting into every point of contact where their skin met. Eagerness and a sudden, unwelcome flare of uncertainty burned in his gut, a killer combination that had Buck’s head swimming and his breath catching as he swallowed nervously. “Tell me if I— if it’s not—”

“I will,” Tommy assured him, his hands skating up and down Buck’s flank reassuringly. “Won’t need to, though, cause you’ve got this.” He tipped his chin up, meeting Buck in a kiss that was slow and gentle and instantly chased away the waves of self-doubt rising in Buck’s throat. 

Buck nodded, brushing his thumb over the apple of Tommy’s cheek before trailing his fingers down, his touch ghosting over the heat of his neck and the soft, dark hair on his chest. He got to work on Tommy’s belt, despite the way his hands were trembling with some combination of anticipation and restraint. 

Tommy noticed, because of course he did. It’s what he does. He notices things. Because he’s so tuned into everything Buck does, every breath he takes. His hands left the spot where they’d settled on Buck’s shoulders in favor of covering Buck’s own, curling his fingers around Buck’s. 

Buck opened his mouth to apologize, but Tommy must’ve picked up on that too, because he was leaning forward and kissing him again before Buck had the chance to get the word out. Buck– though, really, it was the self-doubt monster inside him rearing its ugly head– half expected Tommy to nudge Buck’s hands out of the way and unbutton his pants himself. But he didn’t. He just let their fingers sit tangled together as he kissed Buck for a minute, slow and steady and everything Buck hadn’t realized he needed until it was happening. He didn’t rush him, didn’t brush him off, didn't make him feel anything other than good and safe and perfectly capable. 

He doesn't think he’ll ever get over it– how Tommy’s so in tune with him, how he’s able to read Buck so well. Not only does he know what it is Buck needs, but he gives it to him any time he can. Buck’s never felt seen like this before in a romantic relationship, and it’s all so much, so good, but so much. He didn’t know what to do with it other than sigh into Tommy’s kiss and pray he'd never wake up from the dream that his life has become. 

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed, and finally, Buck started moving his hands again, this time with a certainty and a deftness that wasn’t there before. He got Tommy’s jeans unbuttoned, and then he was murmuring “Up,” against his lips, urging Tommy to lift his hips enough that Buck could pull the fabric down. 

Tommy did as he was told, and Buck tossed his jeans and briefs to the floor before stealing another hungry kiss. He trailed a line of hot kisses along Tommy’s jaw, down his neck, across his chest. He had his hands on Tommy’s hips, holding him down as he licked at his nipples and Tommy all but writhed beneath him. “Evan,” he gasped, wild and desperate in a way that had Buck fucking floating. 

He sucked and nipped and kissed his way down Tommy’s chest, leaving small marks and bruises that started blooming as he made his way down, down, down. And then he was face to face with Tommy’s dick– his beautiful dick, flushed red and glistening with precome that had beaded on the tip and was starting to drip down the underside. 

The heady rush of pride and delight that came with the realization that Tommy was wet for him nearly knocked Buck over. God knows Buck himself had soaked through his fair share of boxers in the past few weeks thanks to Tommy, but having a front-row seat to the role reversal was almost too much for Buck to handle. 

He pressed a hot, wet kiss to the tip, his tongue dragging over the slit. Really, he was helpless to do anything else, having given himself over entirely to the lust simmering his veins and thrumming beneath his skin, chasing after the heady rush that came as the salty, musky, irresistible taste of Tommy exploded on his tongue and lit him up until he felt like he was high on it. 

Tommy let out a broken moan, and it was everything. Buck could gladly spend the rest of his life in this bed, coaxing that sound out of him over and over and over again. He wrapped his fingers around Tommy’s cock, relishing in the way Tommy’s breath stuttered and his eyes grew heavy. He gave an experimental stroke, focusing on twisting his wrist in the way he knew feels good when he does it to himself. He was rewarded with a punched-out sound that lay somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and then another as he did it again. 

Tommy was leaking steadily now, and Buck gathered more precome and used it to slick him up. “Oh, fuck,” Tommy panted. His voice was raspy and breathless, and it did nothing but spur Buck on even more. “Just like that, yeah, just like that.”

“Yeah?” Buck hummed, confidence building with each passing second, with each delicious sound that fell from Tommy’s lips. “You like that?” Buck asked, pleasantly surprised to hear the rasp in his own voice. He didn’t sound quite as fucked-out as Tommy did– not yet, at least– but his breath was starting to come a little more ragged, his heart starting to hammer a little harder in his chest. 

Tommy nodded, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he dropped his head back against the pillows. “Yes, yes," he practically chanted, the word punched out of him as Buck doubled down, wrapping his free hand around the base, twisting it opposite his other hand and earning himself a filthy, drawn-out moan. 

Buck’s own dick strained against his jeans, harder than he thought he'd ever been as he watched Tommy fall apart beneath his hands. His hands. He was the one doing this to him, making him feel this good. That alone was enough to have Buck teetering on the edge, his skin hot and his mind hazy.

He dipped his chin down again, pressing another kiss to the head, before running his tongue down the underside as his fingers trailed down to Tommy’s balls. 

Tommy jerked beneath him, his back arching and his hands fisting in the sheets so hard it was a miracle they didn't tear. 

“Good?” Buck asked, pulling back just enough that Tommy could hear him, but not enough that the vibrations from his voice didn't send a jolt up Tommy’s spine. 

Tommy’s toes curled and his breath stuttered as he nodded. “Good, yes, good,” he promised, his breath ragged. “Please,” he begged. For what, Buck wasn’t entirely sure. But he’d be damned if he stopped before he figured it out. “Please, baby.” 

Buck loved it, couldn’t get enough of the way Tommy– one of the calmest, coolest people he had the privilege of knowing– lost his composure like this, how he started to babble and beg, his words slurring together as he gave himself over to the ecstasy rushing through his veins and started to come undone. 

Buck kept one hand on Tommy’s cock, long languid strokes that were just shy of enough to get him off, but still enough to have him moaning and whining a litany of broken sounds beneath him. Buck took his other hand back, drinking in the strangled gasp that fell from Tommy’s lips as he watched Buck stick two of his fingers in his own mouth, licking and sucking at them as his eyes locked with Tommy’s. 

There was fire burning in Tommy’s eyes, an insatiable hunger as he watched Buck, completely transfixed. 

Buck released his fingers with a wet, filthy sound and wasted no time before slipping them between Tommy’s ass cheeks, grinning at the way Tommy absolutely whined. One of Tommy’s hands flew to Buck's shoulder in an attempt to anchor himself, the other staying where it was, twisted up in the sheets. Buck shifted his weight, keeping Tommy’s thighs locked between his knees so he didn’t arch off the bed. 

It was something Buck never could have done with any of the women he’s ever slept with— he was always very conscious of his own strength, too worried about being too much, too strong, too powerful. But not with Tommy. Tommy’s big and strong, broad and muscular just like Buck is. They’re evenly matched— even if Tommy’s hands are bigger than Buck’s, something that still makes heat pool in Buck’s belly when he thinks about it. Tommy can hold his own, can handle himself. What’s even more, Tommy can handle Buck, too.  

So Buck kept Tommy’s thighs in a vice grip, and Tommy’s breath hitched and his cock jumped in Buck’s hand, and Buck had to breathe through the wave of pure, unadulterated pride that swelled in his chest and broke over his skin. He felt like a glow stick, cracked open and glowing from the inside out for anyone to see. 

He teased Tommy’s rim with the pads of his fingers, drinking in the tiny punched-out moans and broken gasps that were falling from Tommy’s lips as he did. And then he dropped a kiss to Tommy’s jaw and pushed one finger in, enveloped by warm, slick heat up to the second knuckle. Tommy cursed, spilling over Buck’s fingers and onto his chest as his orgasm rushed over him. 

Buck was mesmerized, completely transfixed with the way Tommy’s back arched, the way his lips fell open on a silent sob, his fingers digging into Buck’s skin hard enough Buck found himself hoping they would leave bruises. Tommy’s beautiful always, but especially like that– coming undone beneath Buck’s hands, skin flushed as he rode out his orgasm with ragged breaths and tiny, uncontrollable jerks of his hips. 

Tommy blinked slowly, his smile syrupy sweet as he came back to himself and saw Buck leaning over him. He reached up and cupped Buck through his pants, grinding his palm against the bulge where his cock was straining against the front seam of the denim. 

“Good boy, let go,” Tommy practically purred, the words shooting straight through him. Buck felt like he was on fire, absolutely glowing as the praise washed over him and his orgasm built. He was helpless to stop the whine that fell from his lips, though he was so far past the point of holding back with Tommy, he didn’t even try. He still had a finger in Tommy’s ass, and when Tommy clenched around him, Buck’s vision whited out as he came with a strangled cry.

It took a minute for Buck’s brain to come back online, for him to relax into the sweet kisses Tommy was peppering across his jaw and his cheeks and his neck, to ease his finger out and take a deep, sated breath. 

“Hi,” Buck slurred after a beat, his voice heavy in a post-orgasm haze.

Tommy grinned, tugging him back in as lazy kisses turned hungry, then lazy again. Buck pulled back to catch his breath, warmth exploding behind his chest as he sat back and took in the sight of Tommy before him. And a few minutes later, when he asked, with just a hint of trepidation creeping into the edges of his voice, if it had been good, he was instantly settled by Tommy's immediate and genuine assurance.

And now, as Buck lays on Tommy’s chest, he doesn’t feel the tackiness of the come cooling between them. He doesn’t feel the wet spot in his own pants, or the faint burn in his wrist. He just feels happy. And good. And proud. 

And when, a little while later, Tommy will mumble “C’mon,” and ease Buck up to guide him to the shower, Buck will go easily, without hesitation. He’ll go anywhere Tommy asks him to, would follow Tommy anywhere he wants to go. Maybe that's how it was always destined to be. Or maybe not. But it's where they are now.

They're together, and nothing has ever made Buck feel quite as proud as that. 

[hobisstar]

moving you | jjk x plussize!reader

summary: sitting on weverse with your best friend seems like fun! until your best friend finds his fingers deep in between your folds.

warning: jungkook is touchy, yn is also touchy, matching besties, smut, jungkook dom, yn sub, yn champagne confetti. i think thats it.

it was time. time for yn, his favorite person outside of family and friends to come over.

this was normal ya know, her coming over every other week for week just to sit with jungkook and bam. but this time he had to do something.

so jungkook grabbed his phone and sat it up on his kitchen counter. he was going to go live on weverse. he has talked to her before and asked if it was fine, he wanted his fans to meet her really bad and she agreed without hesitation.

this wasnt his usual lives though since yn was over. its was kinda like a meet & greet through weverse if you will.

yn was just walking in from the bathroom when he grabbed her hand and pulled her close. jungkook kissed her cheek off camera and then pulled her into the camera, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“army, this is yn. i’ve promised you guys were going to meet her..” he smiled and watched the comments on the live go by extremely fast. it was definitely hard to read anything they were saying but jungkook managed to see a few comments.

“matching pajamas? you guys look like a couple. we get told that a lot. believe it or not Joon, bought these for us for my birthday.” he answered. “ your bestie is my bestie. no, she is mine only.” he laughed. yn smiled watching the interaction between him and his fans.

yn pulled to go pet bam since he was staring at her and whimpering this entire time. she sat down and cuddled with bam on the floor and laughed as he continued his live.

“me and yn want to back some brownies. even though its 2 am” he mentioned as she stood up. walking up to him and stating “ Kookie was hungry and thats all he has in his house” laughing as she walked back into the camera.

as much as he thought this wasnt going to work, it was going smoothly. they were baking and interacting with army as if this was normal. but the only problem was that, jungkook loved putting his hands on any part of yn. she liked doing the same. since being on live they haven’t really touched and he misses it.

“we will be right back army!” he stated and took her to his bedroom. their bedroom at this point because his sheets smelled like her.

without missing a beat he instantly pulled her into him gripping on her hips and letting his hands rome down to her ass.

he gripped it softly then slapped both cheeks. she chuckled and held onto his biceps.

you know jungkook and yn have been this way since theyve met actually.

they have always been blunt, touchy, honest with each other. it’s normal. so normal that the rest of the group is so tired of seeing it.

“if we are gone too long they are going to assume that we are doing something naughty…” yn whispered to his ear which sent him to chuckle.

“ ah… you are such a tease..” yn watched him poke his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

one of yns biggest fears was crushing Jungkook. everytime he sits her on top of him its a fear. when she sits on his face. its a fear.

jungkook absolutely enjoys it. give him a run for his money. or life.

he loves it :)

absolutely. never be scared to give your man or bestie all of your weight. youd be surprised how much they can handle.

anyways, jungkook picks yn up and puts her on his desk. not caring if she was sitting on important information.

“then we should make this quick no?”

without waiting for a response jungkook kisses her deeply and eagerly. its like there lips were made for each other. both their bodies were crafted for each other’s.

wasting no time, he slipped her pajama pants down to her ankles. he glade he persuaded her to not wear underwear with him. this is so much easier.

going back to her lips he slowly massaged her clit with his four fingers. he loved her lips but right now he needed to mask her moans with his own lips.

“your so wet for me and i barely did anything yet” jungkook whispered into their kiss which made her shiver and whimper into the kiss.

“please… kook please” yn quietly whined.

needing to hear nothing more Jungkook entered two digits and slowly moved them while he bit on her lip. he felt her grinding against his fingers trying to get him to go faster to which he did. soon, he was moving his two fingers in and out of her at a nice enough pace. yn felt her wave of orgasm coming with each sharp thrust of his fingers. as if on que, yn bit his lip and he speed up even faster.

“ oh fuck k-kook im cumming…” jungkook smirked and took his fingers out and slapped her clit fast watching her release and go to her high. He put there lips together again and she moaned well probably screamed into the kiss as she squirted all over his floor and desk.

he slowed down his hand and soon massaged her pussy helping her come down from her high.

yn was a shaking mess and very limp. when she opened her eyes she saw jungkooks shirt wet and the floor infront of her covered in her juices.

he kissed away her shock then pulled away chuckling.

“ mmm… champagne confetti.” kook looked her up and down with lust in his eyes. god he needed more.

without saying a word he walked out the room and grabbed his phone “ army, im sorry but i have to end the live… yn got a little tummy ache and i need to comfort her.. ill talk to you guys later. Bye!” he smiled and waved ending the live.

he put his phone on the counter then also grabbed the oven mitt and took the brownies out the oven. those will definitely be good, but not better than the meal he was ready to have.

after putting the brownies on the stove to cool off, he headed back into the room and smirked while closing the door.

“ready for round two, doll?”

[sarahscribbles]

Drabble Request - Loki saying”I love you” for the first time. Can be either fluff or smut, your choice <3

I wrote this in 2 hours when the motivation hit so I'm sorry if that's painfully obvious while reading! Please don't cut me out of the will!

𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟕𝟑𝟖

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It takes longer than usual for the quiet sound of Loki’s footsteps to come padding down the hallway. 

Typically, he’s like a moth to a flame from the minute your mixing bowl hits the countertop, unable to resist the baked goods that it promises. He’ll linger like a shadow around the kitchen under the guise of “assisting” when you know what he’s really doing is waiting to assault the baking tray as soon as it leaves the oven. Your lover has the most ferocious sweet tooth out of anyone you know, and where raw cookie dough is, Loki isn’t too far behind. 

Today, though, the apple pie you’re baking is already browning and you’ve moved on to scooping out the mixture for a dozen cupcakes - cupcakes that you’re only baking because you know they’re his favourite - when he rounds the corner, looking effortlessly beautifully even in a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a black sweater. 

You hear his appreciative inhale of the air that’s sweet with the scent of pastry and vanilla. “Have I died and arrived in Valhalla?” His deep voice rolls over you like liquid silk, and he’s swiftly crossing the small space of the kitchen to easily mould himself against your back and loop his arms around you. 

There’s nowhere else on earth you’d rather be. Not when his arms have become your safe space and his laughter is now your favourite sound. Not when…well…

You push your hips back gently against his. “Took you long enough to notice,” you tease him, whacking his hand away when he tries to dip a finger into the raw cupcake mix. 

Rascal.

His laughter rumbles against your back and, god, the sound of his joy is so infectious that you find you can’t help but secretly grin. “Darling, the last time you baked, you explicitly told me that if I continued to bother you, you would beat me with your rolling pin.” 

With a quiet “tut” and shake of your head, you continue to smooth out the last of the batter into the little paper stands. “You know I wouldn’t actually beat you with a rolling pin, dummy.” 

I love you too much. You want to add. 

“That’s not a chance I’m willing to take,” he teases back, but then lightly kisses your temple. “What’s on the menu today?” he then asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

You wriggle back against him. “Apple pie because it’s almost Halloween, and peanut butter and chocolate cupcakes because…because I know they’re your favourite,” you reply, trying to sound casual while scraping the last bit of batter off the spoon. 

He’s never told you outright that they’re his favourite, but you’ve noticed. You know that he prefers to shower at night and that he’s grown fond of sitcoms. You know that he hates green peppers but could eat an orange one whole. You know that he’s not ready to talk about the nightmares that have him waking in a cold sweat, but that he’ll relax instantly when you twist yourself around him beneath the sheets. 

You know that you love him. 

The three words have been on the tip of your tongue for weeks and you want to tell him, but you don’t and you haven’t because what if…

“I love you,” he murmurs gently into your hair. It’s soft and simple and filled with so much truth that your heart swells in your chest.

How long has he known?

Gently, he takes the utensils from your hands and pulls you around to face him. His eyes are glittering like stars as he looks at you, like he can read the secrets of the universe between each line on your face. 

“I love you,” he repeats, placing his palms on each side of your face and tracing gentle lines with the pads of his thumbs.

He’s smiling down at you and you know he’s been wanting to say those three words for as long as you have. Happiness is flowing through every vein that this beautiful man loves you back, and with three words your heart and soul are his for as long as he’ll have them. 

Your voice is shaky when you speak, but you have no idea if you’re laughing or crying. “Thank god. Because I love you too.” 

You’ll love him with everything you have, until your lungs give out and the stars fall out of the sky.

[blue-jisungs]

silent hug

author's note. this is veeeery self indulgent bc my exams r killing me so yeah 👍

genre. hurt to comfort (i think?), classmates to friends ??? idk man just whipped n cute sunoo

summary. in which your classmate comforts you when you tear up in class :(

warnings. cursing, reader is in a bad place mentally,, kinda hinting to academic burnout? ,, crying :( + not proofread, sorry!!

word count. 1286

with a heavy sigh you plopped down on the chair, putting your bag on the desk. the walk from the bus stop to the university tired you out but at least you got four or five minutes before the classes started. so you rested your head against the bag and closed your eyes, taking in a little more sleep than you could get this morning.

the final season is coming to an end, finally. but weirdly enough, you don’t feel relieved. sure, there’s only three or four exams left – and you haven’t really studied for them but that’s a thing to do the day before, isn’t it? – but you can’t help but feel the exhaustion. your friends chat about how there’s less things to take then it was at the beginning, sure. but the closer you get to the midterm break, the less motivation you have. and the tiredness that accumulated throughout the whole month is seeking its way out.

which is why you’re a mess nowadays. promising yourself to study but ending up doing everything but studying, falling asleep at ungodly hours (and regretting it later)… or shutting yourself down from the world. your friends got used to it, everyone has their lives after classes after all. but you carry on with do not disturb on most of the time, missing out their conversations on chats and tiktoks they’ve sent you. sure, you could’ve read them later – but there’s a sinking feeling of guilt (and a dazzle of overthinking) that you’re such a shitty friend.

all of this causes your negative emotions to bottle up. and you know it’s not a good thing, especially when you feel like you’re about to cry when a minor inconvenience occurs. but you’re stronger than that, no? the thought of locking yourself in your room during the break keeps you alive, pushing the sadness – seemingly – away.

a sudden tap on your shoulder caused you to open your eyes and lazily shift your focus to your classmate, sunoo. you looked around and didn’t see your friends… well, they probably skipped the classes since some of them are careless just like that.

"it’s about to start" sunoo smiled gently and you noticed the way his ebony gaze lingered on you for a while longer. great, you should’ve put at least some foundation.

"thanks" you nodded and took out your ipad, the other hand rubbing your eye. here we go…

"i feel like… some people in this class don’t take my lessons seriously" the professor started and you froze, heart skipping a beat. he couldn’t possibly mean you, right? “the final exam is around the corner and some of you… did not too well on the quiz"

oh, well. it’s definitely aimed at you.

"i’ll hand them out at the end of the class and then run over your mistakes. now we’ll do a revision. and you better listen" the man says and you could swear his piercing gaze is drilling into your soul.

an unpleasant feeling of warmth creeped into your face and once again you curse yourself for not putting any makeup. sunoo glanced at you, a sad smile on his lips.

the professor approached you at the end, when all of the students already left. putting the paper sheet with a nasty P– on it, you frowned. hey, you passed!

"y/n, i’m really disappointed. i don’t know what’s going on but that’s the worst work of yours so far. pull yourself together. there’s so many major mistakes… spellings… it’s not an academic level. you were one point away from not passing this one" his words hit a cord in your heart, your palms beginning to sweat. he patted the paper and returned to his desk, grabbing his stuff.

and you didn’t even know when that happened – your sweaty palms shaking, breath getting stuck in your throat, vision blurry because of tears.

you packed your things and wanted to leave but your legs felt too weak. your professor left, causing you to end up all alone in the room.

you sniffed, trying to wipe out the tears but they seemed to have other plans.

"don’t cry, idiot. it’s fucking embarrassing" you breathed out to yourself, voice barely above a whisper.

"y/n, if you want… oh. are you okay?"

you would normally look up to see who that was but the realization of someone even seeing you in such state caused your face to redden even more. pulling your t-shirt up to hide your face in it, you felt like there was no way out: you couldn’t possibly stop crying. it was like your professor’s words triggered something.

"i’m… hey, it’s okay. did he say anything bad to you? or do?" someone approached you and you shook your head as a no. "can i stay here?"

you hesitantly peeled from your shirt and noticed sunoo. his gaze softened upon seeing your teary eyes, lashes wet and flushed face.

"just… don’t mind me" you mumbled and hid your face in your shirt again. you just couldn’t stand someone seeing you in such state, whether it was someone close or a stranger.

"i… i don’t know what he said but i’ve noticed that there’s something going on with you. and may have heard what your friends said... do you want to talk about it?" sunoo asked gently and all he could hear were the harsh sobs leaving your lips.

"they talk about me behind my back?" you whined, your shoulders shaking even more. his eyes widened. that was not the best thing to say…

"no, no! i mean they said you look really tired lately…" he explained hastily and suddenly you looked up. your shirt was soaked with tears and your face was a mess, your pupils blown and wet stains on your cheeks.

"i’m so tired, sunoo. i don’t think i can handle this anymore… and everyone seems to be doing great… just not me…" you mumbled, sending him a sad smile. the pearly tears balanced at the edge of your waterline, ready to spill. he shook his head.

"you’ve got this, i know you do. you got here somehow in the first place, no? if you want, i can help you. with anything. i’m not the smartest but i do understand some things so…" he stopped talking upon seeing your curious gaze.

"why are you doing this?” you asked, sniffling.

"i just… you’re my classmate in a need of help. i couldn’t stand there and not do anything when i heard you cry. and now there’s no way out, isn’t it?" sunoo joked and his face lit up. oh, this boy was a literal sunshine.

"you said everything?" you mumbled, unsurely. he nodded, a caring smile tugging on his lips "can… hmpfh… can i hug you…?"

the words were so quiet, sunoo barely heard them. but he noticed the begging look in your eyes and who was he to deny? it’s not like he would mind, either.

sunoo just opened your arms and you hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist. he patted your back soothingly, letting you let out all of your pent up stress.

a part of sunoo’s heart raced because he wouldn’t have ever imagined that he would hug his hallway crush. the other part which caused his heart to race was the embrace itself, your smell and you in general – and he was happy he could help you.

neither of you didn’t have to talk right now. a silent hug that expressed more than a sentences could ever. and both of you knew, sitting here glued to each other and in comfortable silence, that it was a beginning of a beautiful friendship.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ocean-minho ,, @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

[lainiespicewrites]

Electric Summer pt 5

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long but please let me know what you think! and Enjoy!!

Plot: Sy and Lainie lead the kids in a scavenger hunt, spend some time at the beach and catch up finally spending some quality time together.

Warnings: Cursing, explicit language, fingering, orgasm

Not Beta'd, I claim my mistakes and will die on that hill lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lainie come on, the boys are catching up!” Emma called from the front of our group. I laughed and shook my head. 

“The boys,” I said, “are still one clue behind us, and they’re going the wrong way.” The girls laughed. 

“Okay but we still don’t know where we’re going!” Emma groaned. The girls stopped and turned to me. “Will you look at the clue again?” She asked, holding the card out. I nodded and took it from her. I read over the words on the page. ‘Frisbee, No! Football! Softball? Maybe flashlight tag! Just don’t wander too far from the pack when its dark or you’ll get lost in the woods.’ I thought for a moment while the girls continued to bicker. 

“It’s gotta be the softball field by the lake!” Nikki argued. 

“They said there won’t be two clues in one area, we already found our clue there under home plate!” Emma said. I stared at the card for a little longer and it clicked. I knew exactly where we were going. And if the boys had caught up then Logan would too. 

“Girls follow me! There’s no more time for arguing, come on!” I spun on my heels and we took off in the other direction. 

“Where are we going?” One of them squealed from behind me. 

“We’re going for  a hike!” I said. They didn’t argue but the puzzled look on their faces was priceless. I lead them to the opening of the path in the forest. 

“What does this have to do with a sports field?” Nikki asked. 

“You’ll see,” I said. “Hurry I think I hear the boys!” We took off in the woods. I tried to remember the path but it had been years since I’d been on this path. And it hadn’t been in the daylight. 

“You’re gonna let the girls beat us?” I heard Sy say somewhere behind us. They were catching up. The twigs snapped under our feet as I started to run quickly down the path trying to remember. 

“They’re catching up!” Emma called. 

“We can’t out run Sy have you seen that guy?” Nikki panted.  I looked back at the girls and laughed. 

“Come on, don't quit on me now! We’re almost there! I think..” I snickered. 

“You think?” One of them questioned from behind me. Instead of answering I lead them on a sharp left off the path through a small space in the trees. The boys were right behind us. Logan knew exactly where he was going. We had to find the last clue first. The counselors had a cheat sheet to help lead to the clue but we were only allowed to lead our campers to the right area not help them find the clue. The girls had to do this by  themselves. 

“Where do we even look? It’s all grass and trees!” Emma was extremely competitive and her brother was in Sy’s cabin. She was hellbent on not letting the boys win. 

“Read the clue again,” I suggested. 

“I’ve read it like 10 times! You’re the one that got us here!!” she cried. It took everything in me to hold back my laughter. I forgot how dramatic teenagers were. It wasn’t so long ago that I was one. 

“Okay, calm down,” I said softly. 

“Lainie this is no time for calm!” she said. Just then Ethan and the rest of the boys came running through the trees. “See!!” she said. 

“They haven’t found it yet!” one of the boys said. And they started running around the field flipping over rocks and shaking tree limbs. 

Sy stood leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. I walked over and watched our kids all searching in a panic. It was chaos. 

“That …is your strategy?” I asked. Watching one of the boys attempt to climb up a tree. 

“Got us this far.” he said tearing his eyes away from the group and looking over at me. “You worried we’re gonna beat you?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed so hard I snorted. I blushed covering my face. 

“Not a chance, pretty boy.” I smiled and bit my lip. Sy smiled and inched closer. 

“You remember this spot?” He asked his voice just above a whisper. I nodded. My cheeks felt even hotter. 

“I do. You got us in trouble.” I said. 

“That’s not how I remember it,” He chuckled. We heard a loud gasp from one of the girls. 

“I found something!” immediately the boys groaned. 

“You cheated!” Ethan yelled. Nikki rolled her eyes. 

“We did not cheat, if you guys didn’t search like cavemen maybe you’d have found something! Whatcha got Em?” She asked her. 

Emma stared at the little charm in her hand confused. 

“It’s not a card like the others but it has our cabin letter on it like it's supposed to.” she said. I walked over and looked at it Trying to hide the smile on my face. Logan and I of course knew what the twist at the end was. “What is it?” she asked gesturing to the charm. 

“It looks like it’s incomplete. Look on the side, that’s a tiny magnet. Like it’s supposed to connect to something, and on the back where our let is… it started to spell and …but it’s cut off.”

“So we have to help the boys find their piece?” Nikkie asked. 

“Yup,” Sy nodded leaning in over my shoulder. “We have to return back to campfire site with our complete charm as a family before everyone else to win the scavenger hunt.” He said. Without another word the kids scattered. They broke off into teams of two each boy and girl. Searching together. 

“Where did you find your piece?” Chase asked Emma frantically.  

Nikki yelled at Ethan as he tried to climb another tree. They were all workign hard searching to find the other piece.

 All except one. 

Beckett still lagged behind, I followed Sy as he approached him. 

“Hey man, How was Ryleigh, when you she left?” he asked him. He was startled not expecting us to be there. I watched as he tried to put on a face for us. Trying to mask his anxiety. I was a pro at that, or I thought I was. Logan always managed to see throught it when we were kids. I’m sure he could now too. 

“She was okay, her ankel was really hurting, though. I just feel bad.” Sy nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“That’s not your fault Beck. Stuff like this happens all the times. Lainie and I had a friend that sprained her ankle during a game of kick ball while we we’re here. Accidents happen. Don’t beat yourself up bud.” Beckket nodded sadly.

“Yeah,” He mumbled softly. “Uh her parents said if her ankles not broken and if she can take it easy she can come back to camp. And the nurse told Ryleigh while we were waiting she doesn’t think it’s broken.” He said. I gave him a soft smile. 

“Thats great. I’m sure she’ll be just fine and we’ll be seeing her in no time. You guys were becoming good friends huh?” I asked. I looked over at Sy and he was already looking in my direction trying to hide a smirk. Beckett ran his hand through his hand nervously and face got red. 

“Yeah. She’s just really cool and um…”

“WE FOUND IT!” Ethan yelled from across the field. 

“That’s our Que,” Logan smiled and nodded toward the others. We quickly joined them and found that they had in fact found the other piece connecting the two into one charm.  

“What did we find exactly?” Nikki asked. 

I observed the charm in Emma’s hand. It was round. Almost spiraled with little square pieces etched into it. 

“It looked like an old film reel. But we’ll have to find out!” 

“She’s right! We better head back to the campfire circle before we lose first place let’s go!” Sy called. He managed to get them all amped up again. Even Beckett. It was cute how competitive he was still. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped me. 

“What’s that all about?” He smiled as we jogged behind the kids following them back to camp. 

“Nothing,”I said, “you're just, still you.” I blushed softly. Logan chuckled. 

“I’d hope so.”  He raised an eyebrow and I laughed 

“No, I mean, you really haven’t changed since we were here, it’s …cute” I smiled. He smiled big, pulling me in and stopping to kiss my head. 

  “You’re still that same beautiful girl I never stopped thinking about.” He said. I looked up at him for a moment. I was lost in the way he was looking at me. Like I was the only thing that existed in that moment.  

“Lainie! Sy! Come on! Carrie and Andrew’s Cabins are catching up we have to go!” Emma called. Our trance broke and we both looked at each other wide eyed before we started running again. An awkward giggle escaped my lips but the moment had passed, we didn’t have time to discuss it anymore. We quickly caught up to our campers and we jogged the rest of the way to the campfire, which was about as far away as a football field. We just beat the other cabin there by about 20 seconds. 

Emma and Nikki and Ethan all ran to the center where the camp director Becca was waiting  for them. 

“Alright! Our first place scavenger hunt Winners!  Cabin C and Cabin H. Let’s see your charm!” She said enthusiastically. Emma handed it to her. “Great! So since you’ve one first place you get the first choice to either Make a trade or keep your charm. Your charm tells us what  your activity is for tonight. And this one!” she paused looking at the piece in her hand. “Is a drive in movie night ont he lawn! Grab your blankets. We’ll have plenty of snacks and if your counselors are nice enough you may just get a double feature!” She looked over at us and winked. “You’ll get an opportunity to do all of the activities in the scavenger hunt. This just means you get first pick. Its up to you.” She handed back the charm and greeted her next group, turning them loose back to us. 

Sy was the first to speak when they headed back our way. 

“Well what do you think? Should we hold on to it and wait to see what everyone else has? Or should we keep it and plan our movie night?” The kids thought for a minute. Some of them were obviously exhausted from all the running. Then Beckett spoke.

“I think we should keep it! We’ve done a lot of running around today already. It’s supposed to be nice out tonight and if Ryleigh comes back it’ll be super chill and it’ll be something she can handle with her bad ankle and she won’t have to feel left out right when she gets back… uh.. If everyones cool with that?” Sy silently put a hand on his shoulder and I smiled. 

“I think that’s a great idea Beckett. I certainly don’t want anyone left out. It’s nice of you to think of her.” One of the boys snickered but Ethan turned and smacked him on the back of the head. 

“Dude shut up,” He said. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Chase argued. 

“You were gonna! If homeboy wants to be in love, let him.” 

“Boys!” Sy Barked quickly stopping their argument and saving Beckett from further embarrassment. “Knock it off, you’re both pretty.” he smirked. “But we’ve got other things to settle.” The girls fell into a fit of giggles. Before finally answer the matter at hand. 

“I don’t mind,” Nikki said. “I’m tired already and we still have half the day left. We should just chill tonight! And I want our friend to be included!” she said. 

“Yeah me too! I really like Ryleigh, I feel so bad that she got hurt! I want to help her feel better when she gets back. I think that’s a good idea Beckett!” Emma said. The other girls in our cabin agreed. The all seemed to have bonded quickly that first night. Ryleigh was quiet but I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on her. That made me feel good. 

The boys agreed. Ethan saying something about ‘bro code’. If looks could kill Beckett would have knocked him out.

We headed back to the campfire and the kidslet Becca know that we were staying with our movie night. I checked my watch and saw we still had like 3 hours to kill before dinner. We were going so hard for the scavenger hunt we literally almost missed lunch. 

“Okay, Well you guys have free time now. If you're gonna swim or go Boating give yourself enough time to get back here and dry off for dinner! If you need either one of us I think I’m gonna head down to the beach myself and Sy…?” I asked, looking over. Again his eyes were already on me. My throat immediately went dry. 

“I’m gonna head down to the beach too, you know where to find us or you can find anyone with a radio and they can get ahold of us for you! Be safe, don't do anything stupid! Go have fun! We’ll meet you at the dining hall at 5:45!” He told them. They were running off in different directions before he could finish his sentence. “And then there were two,” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “and here I thought they liked us,” I said. Sy let out a soft laugh his shoulder brushing against mine. “I should, go get ready,” I blushed. “I’ll… meet you at the lake?” I asked.”

“Uh, Yeah,” He cleared his throat, “I’ll see you there,” He said quickly. And we headed off in separate directions. 

This was turning out to be much harder than I thought. It’s clear that we both want each other. But its not like we can be reckless and flirty and be all over each other when the kids are around. And I’m not sure thats what I want. I can’t get over the way he kissed me in the woods this morning. I can still taste him on my tongue. Being near him. Lights something up in me. But I’m terrified. I’ve never really done this before. Everything he’s done for me. Even without touching me, makes me feel better and makes me feel good. What if I can’t do that for him. What if I’m bad at it. I clearly don’t have nearly as much experience as he does. I don’t have any at all. What if we when I am ready… I suck at it. And When would we even have time for something like that? Does he want that? Am I not doing enough for him now? No, he would say something, and we literally just saw each other for the first time in 7 years 2 days ago! but… What does he expect from me? I felt my heart racing.

When I got back to the cabin it was empty. All of the girls were running around elsewhere. I flopped down onto my bunk and took a deep breath. Breathe Lainie. You're not a child anymore. You’re the adult here. I took one more deep inhale before I sat up and started to sift through my bag. My best friend had talked me into bringing a couple of two pieces I'm not so sure I'm comfortable with. As I was pulling the bathing suits out there was a knock on the door. Surely that couldn’t be Logan. 

I stood quickly and opened the door. Ryleigh was there with her Dad. She was on crutches but her ankle was only wrapped tightly in a bandage. “Hey, sweetheart!” I said quickly trying to keep the surprise off my face. I looked at her dad and gave him a gentle smile, “what did we find out?” I asked him? He returned my sympathetic look and patted Ryleigh on the shoulder.

“It’s sprained but not too bad. Dr just wants her to take it easy a couple of days, try to stay off of it best she can. But he okayed her to come back. And she begged us. I couldn’t say no.” He chuckled. 

“Dad,” she blushed.

“Alright, you just be careful, watch out for any flying footballs” he winked teasing her.

“Ugh,” she groaned. I chuckled softly. 

“We’ll take good care of her and keep her in one piece. Thank you for bringing her back! The kids were worried about her!” I told him. We said our goodbyes and I let Ryleigh get settled in.  “Are you doing okay, How are you feeling?”  I asked her. She sat on her bunk and let out a deep exhale that resonated with me  more than it should have. 

“My ankle hurts,”She said flatly. “But it’s really not too bad. I think I’m just overwhelmed. That was a lot happening at once.” I nodded and walked over  to sit with her on her bunk. 

“I understand. We were all really concerned about you, I’m glad you came back!” I told her. She smiled shyly. 

“I was having fun, I wasn’t gonna let this stop me,” She said. 

“I’m really glad to hear that!” I smiled. She looked over at my bunk, her eyes landing on the swim suits. 

“Were you about to go to the beach?” she asked. 

“I was, I was going to meet Sy down there, but If you wanna chill out and relax for a while I can hang out here with you!” I offered. 

“Actually… Can I come with you? I’ll have to just sit in the sand but I wanna get out in the sun and not just mope around.” she said. 

“Of course you can! Do you think you can get down there okay?” I asked, gesturing to her ankle. She nodded. 

“I’ll figure it out.”  she said. We both changed into more beach appropriate attire. I went back and forth for a moment about which swimsuit to wear, it was Ryleigh that helped me decide. 

“He already likes you, ya know.” she said. “Sy, I noticed the way he looks at you. But if you want his attention… The blue two piece is really cute.” she said. I wanted to protest. Or to retort with literally anything. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t naive enough to believe that the kids wouldn’t see it or not notice at some point. And Ryleigh was incredibly observant. I did end up wearing the blue two piece. After throwing on some shorts to walk down to the beach  and grabbing a towel, Ryleigh and I left the cabin. 

She did really well with her crutches until we hit the sand. Sy saw us immediately and stepped over to help. 

“Hey, you made it back!” He greeted her with a smile. He took her crutches and I let her lean on me 

“Yeah, it’s just a sprain!” She answered, with a shy smile. 

“You need some help?” He asked her. She shook her head and I walked with her as she slowly hopped along the sand. 

“She’s got!” I assured him. She found a spot to settle in, refusing to let me help her lay down her towel. She was stubborn. “You want us to hang out here without?” I offered. Again she shook her head. 

“I brought a book with me in my bag. I’m just gonna chill here!” She smiled. I nodded and Sy gave her a gentle smile. 

“Alright darlin’ we won’t be far. Let us know if you need anything!” he said. Ryleigh nodded. We left her alone walking off a little further down the beach. 

Now that we were alone and I had the chance to look at him, I suddenly felt shy. He looked so good. We stopped and set my towel up next to his and I had to stop myself from staring. He was shirtless. Of course he was, we were spending the afternoon by the water. His chest was strong and covered in hair that trailed down his toned stomach. I quickly flicked my eyes back to his. By the smirk on his face it was clear I’d been caught. Neither of us said anything. I sat down on my towel taking in the sun. I closed my eyes and stretched my legs out in front of me leaning back on my hands. 

“I needed this” I finally spoke. “It’s beautiful out here today.” Logan hummed softly in response. When I looked up his eyes were still on me before he finally sat down next to me. 

“It sure is.” He said. “Does this feel crazy to you too? Sittin here together again after all this time?” he asked. I nodded.

“It does, It’s weird. I never thought I would see you again. But now we’re here repeating the past. It’s like deja vu.” I laughed softly. 

“Or fate, bringing us back together again.” He smiled. He looked over at me brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. 

“Logan,” I blushed. “I-I’m gonna go swim. Do you wanna join me?” I asked standing up quickly trying to avoid the moment. I quickly took my shorts off leaving me in just my bathing suit and ran toward the water. I figured he would follow. When I turned back Logan was still standing there with a sultry look in his eye, staring at me. And suddenly I felt naked. A shiver made its way down my spine before I finally found my voice to speak. “Are you coming or are you just gonna stand there staring all day?” I joked. 

Logan let out a chuckle before he ran toward me. I squealed, running into the water but he was faster than I was. He knelt down scooping me up in his arms carrying me further into the water. Instinctually I wrapped my arms around his neck holding on tight. 

“Put me down!” I kicked at the water in protest. He adjusted me in his arms, holding me close and letting his hand slide up to my hip. 

“Nope, You’re right where you should be.” I blushed. “You look so damn good,” He licked his lips, his eyes trailing up my body. I bit my lip feeling a bit self conscious in this position. 

“Logan there are so many people around right now.” I reminded him. He groaned, dropping his head to my shoulder. He set me down in the water. But he grabbed my hips underwater pulling me close. His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off of you?” he whispered. I swallowed hard as he pulled away looking me in the eyes with a mischievous smile. I felt his thumbs graze against my hips making it difficult to stay upright, let alone string together a sentence. 

“Sy, I -I can’t. I mean. I…don’t know how. I’ve never….” I couldn’t say it. But the way his eyes suddenly soften told me he knew what I was trying to say. I was afraid I couldn’t keep up with him. I couldn’t please him. I’ve touched myself…I’d have got bat shit crazy by now if I hadn’t found some kind of release. I’ve never gone any further. My breath caught in my throat when he spoke again.  

“I’d be happy to show you darlin, we’ll go slow.” He said softly. The moment was ruined quickly by a group of campers that had gotten ahold of some super soakers. We had become collateral in their water war. 

“Sorry Lainie!” Ethan yelled as he aimed his gun at Chase.

“It’s my bad bud, The middle of the lake is fair game for a water fight. But watch out for the little ones okay?” He gave me a nod and quick thumbs up before dodging getting sprayed by Zach who was a few feet away.  “Do you encourage this behavior?” I looked up at Logan with a smirk, I watched him chuckle softly. “I don’t discourage it.” I laughed 

“That checks out.” I said. He looked at me with a raised brow. 

“Really, and whats that supposed to mean?” He challenged. I smirked as he watched me carefully. 

“Just that you always liked to start trouble.” I giggled splashing him playfully.

“Oh is that right?” He grinned as a slowly started to back away, looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t going to run into anyone. “Because I don’t remember ever getting caught for anything, unless… you were there.” I took off running in the water as quickly as I could. Which, arguably, was pretty slow. Logan ran behind me and we continued splashing each other. 

“I was a good kid until I met you Syverson!” I squealed trying to get away from him. “We only got in trouble because it was your idea!” He caught up to me by the dock and caught me around my waist. 

“You didn’t have to go along with it,” He smiled. I pouted turning around.

“I did. Because you’re so cool and so cute and I had a crush on you and… I just wanted to hang out with you. And you knew that!” I swatted at his chest playfully, “and you still did things that got us into trouble knowing I would go with you!” I watched as he took a moment to look around and then he chuckled. 

“You know we’re still in the middle of everybody,” He said, reluctantly letting go of my waist.

“I know, we suck at this.” I laughed. Logan paused, thinking for a moment. 

“You still wanna hang out with me?” I raised an eyebrow curiously and nodded. 

“Of couse I do!” I smiled. 

“Well, if you aren’t doing anything later, me and bunch of really cool kids are seeing a movie on the lawn, if you wanna be my date?”  I soft giggle escaped me. He made it feel like we were still the campers. Of course it’s not like we were old. But it felt like we could be carefree and wild again. 

“I’ll think about it.” I answered. 

***************************

Later that night after dinner and the end of the evening campfire, we set up for our movie. Logan and I set up the Projector Screen and set up the projector while the kids were off in the cabin getting lawn chairs and blankets. We discussed Movie options at dinner. Somehow they all ended up agreeing on the new Top Gun. I don’t know how but That was Logan’s fault. 

“You know, you didn’t tell me I’d be working during this date,” I teased as we finished tying the screen up to the pavilion. 

“So it is a date then?” he smirked. He walked over turning on the projector to make sure it was working. 

“Yeah, it is.” I stated. He walked over quickly taking a look around before pulling me against him and placing a soft kiss on my lips. I breathed him in kissing him back slowly. It was only a short soft kiss. But it had my head spinning, and my heart racing. I held onto his shoulder as we pulled away and he smiled.

“I wish it wouldn’t have wasted so much time not kissing you. I can’t get enough.” He murmured softly. I blushed. I heard chatter in the distance and I was sure it was some of our campers. 

“We should, get this set up and get settled in,” I stuttered. Sy finished setting up the movie waiting to play until all of the campers set up their chairs and blankets to lounge on the lawn. I watched them all get settled for a while. Beckett helped Ryleigh get settled. He was so excited when he saw she had made it back to camp. The two of them were sat on a blanket together. They probably would watch much of the movie. They'll likely just talk. They're so sweet.

Logan and I sat together on a blanket at the very back behind all of them so we could keep an eye on them. At least that was his excuse. But after the movie started to play and the kids were distracted Logan started making his move. 

“You warm enough?” He asked, noticing me tug my hoodie sleeves down over my hands. 

“Yeah, Just a little cold.” I stated. He grabbed the extra blanket and scooted closer. 

“C’mere,” He spoke and stretched his legs out leaving space for me to sit between them. I bit my lip and hesitated for a moment. Before settling between his legs and leaning back against his chest. He laid the blanket over our laps and wrapped his arms around me. “Better?” his breath was hot against my ear. 

“Mhmm,” I hummed biting my lip. We stayed just like that for a while. Logan ran his hands up and down my arms to keep me warm. He started to press a few kisses to my shoulder. And then soft kisses to my neck. 

“You looked so good today in that little two piece. You were driving me crazy.” He mumbled, still lazily pressing kisses to my neck. 

“Logan, we.. I… can’t,” I stuttered. Trying to find my words. I held in a moan as he started to softly suck on my neck. “Please, we shouldn’t,” I said, trying to make sense. 

“Shhh, relax Darlin,” he cooed in my ear, “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me too. I just wanna right my wrong, shouldn’t have left each other like we did back then. I wanna make you feel good, show you how you should be treated. Will you let me?” He whispered.  I swallowed hard. He had slipped his hands under my hoodie and his thumb was brushing against the skin of my lower belly. The soft touch made me want more. I turned my head meeting his eyes. Although they were filled with lust and desired and want, they were sincere. I knew he’d never do anything I wasn’t okay with. I knew he’d never hurt me. I knew I was safe here in his arms. I nodded. 

“Please,” I whispered. Logan kissed me softly and reluctantly pulled away. 

“Good girl. Now you just watch the movie and let me take care of you baby.” I kept my eyes on the screen as I felt him slip his hand past the waistband of my shorts. “Gonna go slow baby, just gonna make you feel good.” He whispered in my ear. 

I bit my lip holding in a gasp as his fingers grazed my clit. He brushed them down my folds circling my entrance letting out a deep groan. “So wet darlin, can’t wait to feel you.” he spoke softly. He moved his fingers back up pressing them against my clit teasing me in small circles. I clutched his arm holding in a moan. “Easy baby, you like that?” he asked. I nodded. He kept toying with my clit for moment before slowly pushing a finger inside me. 

I let my head fall back against his shoulder as he started pumping in in out. I let out a soft whimper trying to stay quiet. “You need more baby?” he asked. Again I nodded. He added a second finger pumping them faster. I felt a pressure build in my stomach and I started to grind on his fingers. 

“Thats it baby, you’re doing so good for me. You’re close aren’t ya,” He smirked kissing my neck.  I continued to chase my high and Logan pressed his thumb to my clit as he kept fucking me with is fingers. I couldn’t take anymore, I let head fall back against his shoulder. Logan used his other hand to cover my mouth to stifle my moan while I came on his hand. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispered in my ear as he held me. He slid his fingers out and I watches as he brought them to his lips sucking my juices off his fingers. “So good,” he groaned. He held me in his arms until the movie was over. We sent the kids back to get ready for bed as we packed every thing up. 

“You alright?” he asked, when we closed the pavilion for the night. I blushed nodding. 

“I’m great.” I giggled softly. He let out a laugh and pulled me in for a passionate kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him back. 

“Easy baby, we’re taking slow, I don’t wanna push you too fast,” He smiled as we pulled away. 

“You’re an amazing guy Logan,” I smiled. He lifted my chin giving me one last soft kiss.

“Goodnight sweet girl. See you tomorrow. He smiled. 

“Good night Logan, I’ll see you in the morning.” I said, before we both reluctantly went our separate ways to check on our campers and settle in for the night. This summer was just getting started. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Til Death Do Us Part | Part 6

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 14.5k

(CW: SMUT 18+, vampire biting/blood drinking, unprotected p in v sex)

Summary:

“Fine, you want honesty?” Astarion's voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you. 

“I have experienced the worst forms of torture and yet, this past week without you has made me wish my suffering had a tangible wound,” he continues. “My heart does not beat and yet I feel it flutter in my chest when you are near. I do not need to breathe and yet I feel as if I am suffocating when we are apart. You are stubborn and impudent and reckless. You are lovely and clever and kind, beneath it all. I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to fall out of love with you.”

Trying to fall... out of love with you. Which means... he's currently in love with you.

Read on ao3 here.

You hardly ever see Astarion anymore. It feels as if you’re simply going through the motions of your life, trapped in a haze. 

Obviously I haven’t been thinking clearly from the blood loss or I would have never let you touch me! 

You shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. It wasn’t even true. 

In reality, you greedily took every scrap of affection that Astarion was willing to offer you. But he had been cutting at your heart so painfully and the only way you knew how to make it stop was to make him hurt, too. 

You miss him. 

You hadn’t noticed how Astarion had managed to become such a fixture in your life in such a short amount of time. You hadn’t realized how accustomed you had become to his presence until you were forced to feel its absence. It seems every corner of the manor is tainted by Astarion’s ghost. 

You sit by yourself at meals, eating but not tasting. You stare at books in the library without really reading. You take yourself on walks in the garden that are meant to cheer you up but end up making you cry when you see how the moonflowers had been trimmed back for winter. The bush was almost unrecognizable. It felt like some disgusting metaphor for the state of your marriage, which Astarion had cut and brutalized into something hideous.

Halsin finds you that afternoon- crumpled in a heap on the ground, hands caked in dirt from where you had been digging the plant out by the root. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into his warm arms and lets you sob into his shoulder, dampening his shirt until you run out of tears.

The comforting embrace of sleep does not offer any reprieve from your anguish, either. Without Astarion, sleep eludes you and you spend your time twisting and turning in the sheets, craving Astarion’s cool touch. 

Even the bed in your room feels foreign to you. After spending so many nights together in Astarion’s, your room feels empty and lifeless. It’s yet another reminder of how suddenly Astarion had cast you aside. Another reminder that he didn’t need you- that he had found someone better, someone who wasn’t so desperate.

The days and nights blur together, endless and unrelenting. Time is determined to sweep you along in her current even if you’d rather drown. 

Shadowheart forces you to at least rise out of bed and get dressed every day. You can tell she’s growing concerned about how little sleep you seem to be getting. The circles under your eyes are growing darker with every passing day. 

About a week after your fight with Astarion, you find one of his shirts folded in between your chemises. When you look at Shadowheart inquisitively, she just shrugs her shoulders. You know this is her way of acknowledging that she has done this for you, that she has slipped you one of his shirts from the wash in an attempt to help you feel better. 

When you’re alone that night, you lift the white muslin material to your nose and the sweet, familiar smell of bergamot and rosemary sends you into a tailspin. He has forever ruined those scents for you, they will forever be tied to him. 

You clutch onto the fabric like a lifeline, holding it against your chest as if that will miraculously ease the aching in your heart. As you rub the soft material between your fingers, your thumb catches on a patch of raised thread at the hem of the shirt and you find small, evenly stitched letters lining the bottom of the shirt in pale red thread. It’s masterful work. Had Astarion embroidered this into his shirt himself? 

You recall your wedding dress, with the shimmery gold embroidered flowers and how Astarion had seemed so concerned whether you liked it or not. Had that been his work, too?

It all terrifies you- to think you were in love with someone and to realize that you hardly knew them at all. And how well you thought you knew him, too... All your careful studying was for naught. 

You finally focus on the words sewn into the shirt. Clearly, they must be important to him if he felt the need to sew them into his innermost layer of clothing. 

Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums.

The words are beautiful and fill you with a deep melancholy.

Oh. Is that how Astarion saw you? A late season plum with no taste, the unwanted scraps given to the poor. 

He had cast you aside because he felt he deserved better than some foolish girl with romantic dreams and clumsy hands. You were bland. You were desperate. He wanted someone experienced, someone with taste- a ripe, juicy pear that would satisfy any autumn picker. 

Lamentable is poor Astarion, you sneer to yourself, for being content with a boring, easy wife who dared to love him.

The words are a second gaping wound to your already damaged heart. It feels as if they had cut down to your very bones. And still, you curl helplessly around the shirt in bed, desperate for sleep to claim you so that you could have a momentary reprieve from this suffering. 

The more Astarion avoids you, the more your sadness begins to turn into a familiar anger. 

Does he truly respect you so little that he would so callously remove himself from your life? Who is he to pretend these past few months meant nothing to him? 

For when you were wrapped together at night, did he not caress you so softly like you always imagined a lover would? Did he not kiss you with the reverence of a man worshiping his deity? 

Even Astarion is not that good of an actor. 

“I’m not sure how much longer I can continue like this,” you whisper to Shadowheart one morning, when you hardly recognize your haggard, pained reflection in the mirror. It had not even been a fortnight since your fight and the prospect of living with this heartbreak much longer seems exhausting. 

“You still haven’t even told me what the two of you are fighting about,” Shadowheart says, rolling her eyes. “Who can stay away from each other the longest? Which one of you loves the other more? There are never any winners in those types of games.”

“Astarion isn’t capable of love.” You repeat the words to her that have become your mantra, “You have to have a heart to be able to love.”

Shadowheart huffs out a laugh, “Please. I’m not stupid. Anyone with half a brain can tell he loves y-”

“Stop,” you interrupt. 

You must remind yourself that she doesn’t know what he has said. Although Astarion’s words seem to repeat in a vicious loop in your mind, you didn’t dare speak them aloud. You were still too embarrassed by how cruelly he had thrown you aside, too ashamed of how desperately you still needed him. 

She doesn’t know that her words are yet another reminder that even if at some point Astarion did hold some scrap of affection for you, he had grown tired of you since then. 

“The Lord’s been miserable, too,” Shadowheart says, attempting to comfort you. 

“He doesn’t get to be miserable. Not when he-” you cut yourself off. Not when he was the one who ripped the beating heart out of my chest and crushed it into dust. Not when he was the one to replace you. 

“Well, Gale said the wine cellar has been decimated,” Shadowheart offers you a friendly smile, as if she’s just offered you up a salacious bit of gossip. 

It just makes your skin crawl to know they’ve been talking about you behind your back- that her and Gale have been comparing notes about your and Astarion’s misery.

“Glad to know he’s been drinking himself stupid while I’ve been miserable,” you scoff.

“That’s not what I meant.” Shadowheart sighs in frustration. “Gods, you two are perfect for each other. You’re both prideful idiots.”

—------------

You nearly run over Astarion a couple days later as he trudges down the hallway with his shoulders hunched and a haunted look on his face. Other than Shadowheart’s report from Gale that Astarion had been drinking through his collection of expensive wines, you’re not sure what he’s been up to since your fight. He spends nearly all his time locked away in his study.

And admittedly, Astarion looks as bad as you feel when you see him. It’s a rather stark transformation for someone who normally takes so much pride in their appearance. 

When was the last time he bathed? His beautiful curls are all askew, greasy and unwashed. And he’s obviously starving. His skin is pale and ashen, the dark circles under his eyes are too prominent. That lovely pink undertone to his skin that appears after he’s fed is missing. Gone are the days of pretty flushed cheeks as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

He told you that he didn’t want to drink from you anymore. Had yelled at you that he had found someone else, someone better, as he nearly chased you out of the room. 

So then why did he look this miserable?

You’re unsure what to do, torn between reaching out to pull him into a hug and that anger burning in you that’s a little bit satisfied at his suffering.

You know Astarion can see the shock on your face. And after so long of dedicated study, you know his mind almost as well as your own and so you know that he’s probably interpreting your surprise as pity. 

He growls at you, baring his fangs in warning as he shoves past you. The sound of his study door being slammed hangs heavy in the air while you stand frozen, skin still tingling where his shoulder had brushed against yours. 

Your body still calls out to him, even now.

Your feet move seemingly of their own accord, taking you to the study. You try the doorknob, but it’s predictably locked, so you raise your hand to knock at the door. When Astarion doesn’t answer, you pull a pin out of your hair and wiggle it into the lock. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“Get out!” He growls at you when the door swings open. 

You think he might throw the book he’s holding at you. It makes you waver- this man who is so similar to you, who lashes out when he’s scared and feels small. It’s the same response you had that first morning after you were imprisoned, when Shadowheart had entered your room. 

You wilt a bit under his gaze, his fiery red eyes looking at you with something akin to… hatred. 

Ignoring the way your heart feels as if it is freezing inside your chest, you square your shoulders, refusing to succumb to the intensity of his stare. 

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You say and Astarion rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Oh, don’t act like a child,” he sneers back at you.

You cross your arms in the most unchildlike way you can manage and resist from stomping your foot on the ground in frustration. 

“I am not the one who has been acting like a child here.”

“Gods, what do you want from me?” Astarion yells. 

His response nearly makes you laugh. Since when has he ever cared what you wanted? He didn’t care when he forced you to marry him. He didn’t care when he rejected you right after you had opened up to him. Even now, as he asks you directly, you doubt he will truly listen to you. 

No, Astarion is only capable of caring for himself. It doesn’t matter how many people he has to hurt to get what he wants.

But you watch as he deflates almost immediately, his anger turning into fatigue as his hands come up to massage at his temples like he’s got the worst headache in the world. When he speaks again, he just sounds like a broken man, “I told you that whatever was between us is done.” 

“I want you to stop pretending like I don’t exist! I want you to be honest with me for once! I want-” You cut yourself off, chest heaving. 

I want you. 

The truth that you cannot ignore, the truth that doesn’t dissipate even in your darkest moments.

“You want honesty?” Astarion scoffs. “I’ve been honest with you!”

You bristle. 

“You lied to me when we first met! You chased me down and threatened me and then didn't kill me. You run around all the time whispering in the shadows with strange people that don’t work here. You go on weird business trips and come back on the brink of death. You tell me you hate me and want me gone from your life and then mope around like I’m the one who broke your heart. Everything you do is a lie!”

“I never said that I hate you,” is all Astarion says in response. 

“That’s the only thing you got out of everything I just said? That was like the least important detail!” You shout back at him, incredulous. 

Of course, he continues to evade all the very real issues you have just mentioned. You decide that you will offer him one last chance to be honest.

“Tell me the truth,” you spit out through gritted teeth. “Or at least tell me to my face that you never want to see me again and I’ll be gone by morning.”

Please, you think, say the words. Then, you can be gone from this place and can somehow try to salvage a life without Astarion. But you cannot stay here any longer and suffer. You cannot bear to continue to live as a ghost. You cannot watch as he gives his happiness to another. 

But you know Astarion. You know when you’ve caught him. There’s that momentary shock in his face before his jaw locks in frustration. 

“You’re a nuisance,” he says, but his words don’t hold the usual fervor. 

“I am,” you agree. “So why didn’t you just kill me the night we met? You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble.”

“It would have been a crime to take your beauty away from the world,” Astarion says, but the answer seems too rehearsed. You doubt you’re the first person to hear this line. 

“No, I want a real reason!” You demand.

“What do you want me to say?” He cries out, palms slamming loudly against the desk. He’s nearly frantic as his red eyes bore into you- desperate, pleading. “That perhaps you reminded me of myself? That perhaps I am indeed very lonely and you’re the first interesting person I’ve met in years? And here I was, presented with this opportunity to have you. Only a fool would say no to that.”

“I’m a person, Astarion. I am not something that can be kept.”

“And you never let me forget it,” he says, chuckling darkly. 

“Fine, you want honesty?” His voice takes on a desperate, forlorn quality. “I ache for you down to my very soul. I feel as if my heart is clawing its way out of my chest and I’m powerless to stop it. Love is a sickness and you have infected me and for that, I despise you and I despise myself for ever being so weak.”

He sounds half like he’s accusing you and half like he’s exalting you. 

“I have experienced the worst forms of torture and yet, this past week without you has made me wish my suffering had a tangible wound,” he continues. “My heart does not beat and yet I feel it flutter in my chest when you are near. I do not need to breathe and yet I feel as if I am suffocating when we are apart. You are stubborn and impudent and reckless. You are lovely and clever and kind, beneath it all. I fear I will spend the rest of my life trying to fall out of love with you.”

Trying to fall… out of love with you. Which means… he’s currently in love with you.

“You love me?” You ask in disbelief.

Although your heart is singing in your chest, chirping and trilling how it always does when Astarion grants you any affection, your mind is clouded by anger. You can tell by the shock on Astarion’s own face that he half-expected you to be placated by his words and did not anticipate that you would turn on him.

“Then what the fuck was the other night about?” You shout. “Because, remember, it was you who pushed me away. It was you who told me that you had found someone new and cast me aside like I was no better than the dirt under your boot. It was you who called me easy and shamed me for my desires.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Astarion crumples in on himself, head hanging in his hands. “And then there were all the times I took advantage of you in your compromised state. I’m sorry. There will never be enough words to tell you how sorry I am. You should hate me for what I’ve done to you.”

He’s practically on the verge of tears. And although Astarion deserves to suffer your wrath far longer, you rush to wrap him in your arms because you are weak and cannot bear to see him in pain. He sags into your embrace immediately. 

“I should have never said that. I’m sorry, Astarion. I assure you, I was a very conscious, very willing participant in all our evenings together. You just- you vex me.” You huff out a frustrated breath. “You’re like a puzzle with pieces missing. And every time I think I’m starting to see the picture, someone comes along and messes it all up again. I feel as though I’m being driven to the point of madness.”

With your hands on his cheeks, you move his head from where it is tucked against your chest, forcing him to look into your eyes. You need him to hear what you are saying, to feel the words down to his very bones. “You must know I never meant it when I said that I wasn’t clear headed.” 

“I just…” you take a deep breath, attempting to collect your thoughts. Astarion’s eyes are desperately searching your face. You cannot tell if he is more scared at the prospect that you are telling the truth or that you are lying. 

You speak, gently tracing your thumb down Astarion’s sharp cheekbone. “It felt as if you had frozen my heart inside my chest and I needed you to stop talking, to stop reminding me that I don’t mean as much to you as you do to me. The only way I knew to do that was to make you hurt, too. But you must know I treasure every moment we spend together, every book we read, every night we share. Whenever you…” you trail off, a bit shy. “Touched me, I was painfully, blissfully aware of every moment. I asked for you to share yourself with me because I wanted you. I will always want you.”

“If anything, the blood loss just made it all the more exciting,” you place Astarion’s hand over your chest so he can feel the beating of your heart. “Had my heart racing nearly as fast as it is right now.”

Astarion breathes out a breathy, astonished laugh and you’re sure he can feel the way your heart stutters in response.

“You are my north star, Astarion,” you say with a soft smile on your face. “You are the gentle light that guides me home, that helps me remember myself in the dark.”

“You really mean that?” Astarion asks, looking up at you with adoration.

“I love you. Every beat of my heart is for you.” 

And, in fact, perhaps you had loved him since the moment you first danced with him. Love and hate are very similar emotions, indeed. 

Astarion’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, a wide smile on his lips. He’s radiant, like the stars in the night sky- something whose beauty could never be captured by something so mundane as oil on canvas, something who’s beauty could only ever be experienced. 

“Are you going to be insufferable now that I’ve admitted that?” you ask and Astarion tips his head back to let out a loud laugh. It’s perhaps the hardest you’ve ever seen him laugh.

“Absolutely, my love,” he murmurs, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the side of your mouth. He continues peppering your face with kisses between each word as he says, “Completely and utterly insufferable.”

“I need you to promise me something.” You catch his face between your palms again so he is looking into your eyes. “If- if you still want this to work, if you still want me, I need you to promise that you’re going to be honest with me from now on. About everything.”

He frowns for a moment and you can see him thinking. Apparently, you had found the dealbreaker in his love.

“I swear on my life,” he finally says with a little smile.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re not technically alive.” 

“It’s a figure of speech, darling.” He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get away with it. Damned lawyer. “I swear, full honesty from this point forward.”

“Thank you.”

“But I need you to promise me something in return,” Astarion says, turning serious. 

“Anything,” you promise.

One of Astarion’s hands comes up to cup your own cheek and his cool skin sends a little shiver down your spine. “In the future, if you ever do decide you want us to be intimate again, we save my feeding until after. It’s important to me that you’re able to think clearly. That you’re able to say no.”

Okay, well, you hate that idea. Apparently he had also managed to find the one condition you were unwilling to agree to. 

“I don’t want to agree to that because I like it when you drink from me. It’s… exhilarating.” There’s nothing quite so electrifying as the feeling of your lifeblood being pulled from your veins, knowing that it will be used to nourish Astarion’s own body. You attempt to negotiate, though you are sure Astarion will be unimpressed with your skills, “So, I propose an amendment- we check in with each other before we do anything? Just so I can assure you that I am a level-headed, very willing participant.”

“Those are terms I can agree to.”

Astarion’s finally pulls you down into a kiss. Your lips slide against each other’s and it tastes faintly salty, though you’re unsure if the tears belonged to you or Astarion. 

“I love you,” you murmur against his mouth and he’s descending again, hungrier. Your hands move up to curl in his hair and Astarion has wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to straddle him on the chair. 

It’s one of those toe-curling kisses that has you feel like your very soul is leaving your body, that has you feel like the very essence of your beings are singing together in harmony. 

“Say it again,” he commands in a low rumble. And, oh, you like that low, commanding voice he gives you. You can feel your thighs tighten around Astarion, feel the way his hand claws at the fabric of your dress.

“I love you,” you say before your lips press against each other again. You let your tongue trace along one of his fangs, snagging just enough so that you can taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood. Astarion becomes ravenous as he licks into your mouth. 

You kiss, over and over again, until you are satisfied that Astarion is assured just how willing and enthusiastic of a participant you truly are. 

“I love you, too,” he breathes and you can feel how his lips curl up into a smile. 

When you finally part from him long enough to see his face, he looks all wrong as you push his greasy curls off his forehead.

“You need a bath.” You wrinkle your nose and Astarion chuckles.

“You’ll join me?” He asks in a rich, deep voice as he gives you a devilish smile.

You stand up and hold out your hand to him, “Come, pretty boy, let me take care of you.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you will,” he says and his arm wraps around you from behind so he can catch you, playfully nipping at your neck. You laugh as you detangle yourself from his arms.

The servants swarm to set up a bath in Astarion’s room and you watch in the corner with him, a bit embarrassed that all the servants know you will be bathing together.

When you are finally alone, you help Astarion out of his clothes first. He doesn’t really need help, but it’s nice to take care of him for once. A little shiver runs up his spine when your fingers ghost against his stomach as you help him pull off his shirt. 

When he turns around to check the water, you see the huge scar on his back. It’s massive, spanning the entirety of his back. How have you never noticed this before? You had seen Astarion naked. Evidently, he had taken great care so far as to not let you see the scar. You can’t help but wonder why he had been hiding it from you and why he suddenly was allowing you to see it?

Your hands reach out to trace the patterns and Astarion jumps, but lets you continue. You’ve seen this pattern before, on the drawing you found in his study the day you broke in. And because Astarion cannot see his own reflection in a mirror, that must be the only way he knows what his scar looks like. 

“How did you get this?” you ask, horrified by the pain he has suffered. You try to keep your fingers light against the jagged tissue, unsure of how sensitive the skin is. 

You can see the wheels turning in his head and you know a lie is about to spew out of his mouth.

“Honest,” you make him promise. 

He swallows hard and nods. “The man who turned me was cruel. This is a relic of that past. I don’t like to talk about it.”

And because you are trying to trust him, you respect him enough to not ask about the past he had just told you was too painful to bring up. Though, if he’s answering questions, you might as well try to get at least some new information out of him. 

“And the trips?”

His words are careful when he speaks. Like he’s being honest, but not giving you the full truth. “Just business. Sometimes we go to dangerous areas. I take Karlach, Lae’zel, or Wyll with me for protection.”

You’re satisfied enough with that answer and thoroughly distracted when Astarion’s fingers begin to slowly undo the buttons down the back of your dress. Unfortunately, you still haven't been able to master those slippery little devils. Astarion seems content with taking his time on the task- letting his fingers trail teasingly along your spine and occasionally dropping soft kisses along your shoulder. It’s maddening. 

Your corset somehow manages to take twice as long as the buttons on the dress. Astarion seems perfectly happy to let the bath water grow cold as he runs his fingers over every inch of the satiny ribbon that ties the garment to your body. 

When you’re finally undressed, Astarion steps into the tub and settles back in the hot water, resting his head on the edge of the tub with a sigh. 

It’s awkward- you aren’t sure how you’re supposed to position yourself in the large bathtub. Sitting in his lap seems too direct. But you need to make up your mind quickly. Even with the warm fire burning in the room and the steam rising from the hot water of the tub, your bare skin is growing cold the longer you take to decide. 

After you step into the tub, you sit on the opposite side, facing Astarion. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you chew on your lip. You’re nervous- partially because you’re a bit new to showing so much skin around a man and partially because you aren’t sure how much you’re allowed to touch Astarion. You aren’t used to this level of physical intimacy. You had only seen Astarion’s body once before and you had been so caught up in the haze of how silky soft the skin of his cock had felt against your hand and how his eyes were screwed so tightly shut with pleasure that you hadn’t really gotten that good of a peak at what said cock actually looked like. 

And that night had ended… poorly, to say the least. 

“Gone shy, pet? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Astarion says with a cheeky smile. 

You love him, your heart sings. He’s reverting back to that easy banter, trying to help make you more comfortable. Gently, Astarion tugs on your arm and guides you into his lap.

“See,” he leans his forehead against yours, “much better.”

“Much,” you agree, knocking your nose against his before you remind him, “you need blood.”

“Are you offering?”

“Always,” you tease. Astarion’s eyes are hungry as he watches you tilt your neck to the side for him. 

“Devilish woman.” His eyes crackle dangerously, all crimson and fire. It’s a total contradiction to how softly his hand cradles the back of your head as he leans down to your neck.

He presses a long kiss to your skin. The simple act nearly brings tears to your eyes. For weeks, you had let Astarion drink from you. For weeks, he would kiss you so gently before he dug his teeth into your skin- an act of apology, an act of worship. An act of love. 

So much had changed this evening. Your worldview completely shifted, yet again, as you grew accustomed to the idea that Astarion loved you. With every heartbeat, you are reminded- he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. And yet, that one little habit remained the same. 

The soft cold of Astarion’s lips gives way to that familiar sting, to that chill that seeps down to your very bones. You fight to orient yourself for a moment, inhaling deeply to focus. The coldness fades. The familiar lick of desire burns bright within you. 

Astarion’s cool tongue swirling against your skin does nothing to tamper the heat growing within you and the arm he has wrapped around your waist tightens, dragging you in even closer. You feel him everywhere and still, you need more- it’s not enough.

Too quickly, always too quickly, Astarion parts from the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving one last kiss on the hollow of your throat. 

When you look at him, he’s got that gooey, drunk look in his eyes like he always does after he’s fed. The pinkish tint has returned to his cheeks and the tips of his ears now that he’s got some blood in his system and you feel a sense of pride bloom within you.

I did that, you think, that was me.

Astarion reaches his thumb out to swipe up a stripe of blood that must have been leftover from the bite mark on your neck, runny like blood always is when mixed with water. His pretty pink lips close around his thumb as he lewdly sucks it into his mouth. Your mind goes blank as you watch him, entranced. 

“Delicious,” Astarion says with a wicked grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“I’m not too bland for you?” You ask, repeating his words from the fight back at him. You’re teasing him, mostly, but that jealous, insecure part of you deep down is looking for his reassurance. “I’m not the late autumn plum that you lament picking?”

“What are you talking about?” Astarion looks at you, brow furrowed in confusion. It takes him a moment before his expression clears and he laughs. He has the audacity to laugh at you. “That’s not what that poem’s about at all, darling. How did you even know about that? Is that why my shirt went missing?”

“That’s not… important… right now…” you say, feeling your face heat up. Astarion’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing his thumb gently over your cheek bone. 

“Do you want to know what that poem means?” He asks, in perhaps the quietest, shyest voice you’ve ever heard Astarion speak with. “For many years, I had nothing except my hunger. My own body didn’t even belong to me. What’s lamentable is someone who is content with that life, with living on scraps of rats and insects. The poem is a reminder to me that I had to keep fighting, a reminder that I refuse to be broken.”

Astarion leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You remind me so much of myself, little flower. Your will and your determination, even in a losing fight. That’s what drew me to you that night we first met. In the face of certain death, you couldn’t resist telling me I was wrong.”

You laugh. He’s right, of course- you do love telling people when they are wrong. 

“In truth, your blood is the best I’ve ever had. I fear I have tasted perfection,” he says, letting his nose dip down to trace along your neck. You shiver, keenly aware of how your cunt is resting tantalizingly against one of Astarion’s thighs. All it would take is a little roll of your hips to provide some sweet relief.

But Astarion still needs a bath and your neck still stings a bit. You know from experience the stinging of the twin bites on your skin will last a while longer, so you distract yourself by wetting a hard bar of soap in your hands. You run the soap over Astarion, working it into a lather on his skin.

It’s an excuse to touch him. You know this. He knows this. Neither of you are complaining. 

You take a moment to stroke along the muscles that run from his neck to his shoulders, chasing away some of the knots and sore spots that had developed after so many days hunched over a desk. Astarion lets out content little hums as you work, his eyes slowly falling shut. 

You move to his arms, which he’s draped elegantly over the side of the tub as if in preparation for your work. Moving the soap, you trace along those beautiful, pale blue veins all the way down to the inside of his wrist. Bringing his hand to your mouth, you press a soft kiss to each of his fingertips before repeating the same pattern on his other arm.

When you wash his hair, Astarion practically melts into your hands. It reminds you of Tara how he purrs when you let your nails scratch gently against his scalp.

“Tilt your head back,” you instruct him. You let the water run through his white curls and wash the soap away.

When he comes back up, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment before you’re falling together. It’s one of those hungry kisses that leave you wanting more. All teeth and tongue crashing against one another. One of Astarion’s hands palms at your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tug on Astarion’s lower lip with your teeth and you feel the growl reverberating in his chest. 

Astarion’s length is hard where it presses against your stomach. You move your hand under the water, aching to touch that satiny soft skin again. Astarion deftly catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his own. 

You huff, frustrated. He always did this. It was as if he thought he didn��t deserve pleasure, too. Or thought you were inexperienced and incapable of giving it to him. You wanted to learn how to please him, desperately, but he was always batting your hands away. 

“Are you truly so cruel you would deny your wife this simple pleasure?” You ask, trying your best to pout in that way that always makes Astarion cave and give you what you want. 

“You’re dramatic,” Astarion brings your entwined fingers up to kiss the back of your hand. “And I’m not cruel. I just refuse to let the first time I have you be in a lukewarm bath. I intend to savor every moment and for that, I will need much more space.”

Astarion speaks in that husky, arrogant voice that sends a shock of electricity straight to your cunt and has you clenching around nothing. 

You try to move a bit and end up banging one of your elbows painfully into the side of the tub. Okay, maybe he has a point. More space would be good. Even if you ache to feel him inside and don’t want to wait.

He helps you out of the tub and your legs are a bit shaky, which puts a self-satisfied smirk on Astarion’s face. He finishes towel drying his hair, curls messy and beautiful as the wet locks lay flat against his skin. His towel drapes around his shoulders and you use it to pull him down for a kiss, your tongues sliding against one another. You feel Astarion’s hands against the back of your thighs and he’s lifting you off your feet so you can wrap your legs around his waist. You’re keenly aware of how your cunt rubs against the thatch of hair at the end of his navel as he walks you over to the bed and gently sets you down on it. 

Astarion kisses down your stomach and you know where he’s going. You cup your hand around his cheek, guiding his face up to look at you.

“Need you,” you practically whine. It’s annoying, how Astarion is able to turn you into this needy little child, how your very being is addicted to him.

“I know just what you need,” he gives you another kiss above your hip bone and you whine again.

“No.” You’re trying to pull him back up now, hands grabbing at his shoulders and arms, trying to settle his weight on top of you again. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Oh? How can I refuse when you beg so sweetly?” He has that sinful look on his face that makes you ravenous for him. “But you’ll have to wait,” Astarion says, moving to settle between your thighs. “You need to be ready so it won’t hurt. And besides, I’ve missed your taste. You won’t deny your husband that, will you?”

He probably has a point. You had barely been able to fully wrap your hand around his cock when you had touched him. And the most you had ever taken inside yourself was, what? Two of Astarion’s beautiful, dexterous fingers? And those already had you feeling stretched to a point where you thought you might shatter.

Astarion’s tongue swirls on your inner thigh, tracing over the faint bruise left from the last time he bit you. He blows cool air over your cunt that has you nearly jumping out of your skin. It forces you to be painfully aware of how wet you are. But Astarion quickly takes pity on you and his cool mouth presses a soft kiss against your cunt before his tongue is darting out, licking so wonderfully. 

Gods, the miracles he can perform with his tongue are sacrilegious. 

Astarion eats you out like his very life depends on it. And when he slowly slips one, and then two, and then three fingers into you, your worldview shrinks to red eyes looking up at you hungrily from between your thighs. 

There’s that familiar warmth rising in your stomach as your trembling hands clutch onto Astarion’s damp hair like a lifeline. A distant part of you laughs about how his normally perfect curls will be a mess when his hair dries. 

With Astarion’s lovely fingers curling inside you and his tongue dancing against your clit, you settle into the warmth that seeps into your bones.

"So good," you manage to pant out when his tongue moves in a particularly delicious way. You feel the coil tightening in your belly before it snaps, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you climax.

When you’ve finally started breathing normally again, Astarion crawls up your body like a fucking predator and you’re practically drooling over him. As he moves, his leg catches yours and he hooks your knee over his thigh, draaaging your leg up with his own.

You’ve never been this aroused in your life. You feel like putty in Astarion’s hands- his to mold and move and control how he wants you. And you know Astarion’s noticed the effect it’s had on you, too. You see that arrogant gleam in his eye that lets you know you are dangerously feeding into his already inflated ego.

And he knows what he’s doing. In this position, he’s opened up your cunt that much further and his own hard cock is pressed against your center. It’s wet- gods, it’s almost obscene how wet it is. And the way Astarion’s cool skin rubs against your most sensitive spots sends a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Astarion-” you manage to choke out. “If you don’t fuck me soon, I think I’m going to die.”

“Perish the thought, dearest, I’d never let that happen.” He says in that cocky, teasing tone that lets you know he’s enjoying this too much.

He stops moving and grips your chin with his hand. You mewl, letting him force you to look at him. His eyes have softened and his face is so open and loving that you think your heart might very well flutter out of your chest and settle inside Astarion’s own rib cage.

“You’re good?” He asks, voice gone soft with concern. 

“So good,” you try to roll your hips against his, ignoring your confusion at his complete change in tone. But at this point, if you don’t have him inside you in the next minute, you think you might spontaneously combust.

“Not what I meant,” Astarion chuckles darkly, his grip on your chin tightening just a bit. “You’re clear headed? You promised me we’d check in.”

Oh, that’s right, the promise. 

“All clear,” you say, tapping the side of your head, trying to ease his concerns with a bit of humor. It seems to work based on the gentle grin that tilts up one corner of his mouth. You focus on committing this moment to memory. “How are you?”

A look of shock passes over Astarion’s face for a moment, so quickly that a lesser trained eye might have missed it completely. It makes you wonder if you’re the first person that has ever bothered to ask Astarion if he’s okay. 

“I’m going to remember this forever,” Astarion reassures, like he’s reading your mind. He gives you one more serious look. “Any point you want to stop, tell me and I will. No questions asked.”

How could this man exist? He seems unreal. Your guardian angel perched above you. 

“Same goes for you,” you tell him, turning your head a bit. Astarion loosens his grip on your chin to allow for the motion and you press a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he leans down and kisses your lips, soft and sweet. “You ready?”

You nod and he shifts his weight onto one forearm so he can grab his cock with his hand. He runs the tip along the length of your cunt teasingly and oh, it feels wonderful against your wet folds. Slowly, he starts pushing into you.

You hiss at the initial sting and Astarion pauses immediately, just sitting with the tip of his cock inside you. He’s kissing all over your face, whispering about how ‘you’re doing so well,’ ‘you feel so good I can hardly stand it,’ and ‘think about how good we’re going to make each other feel, my love’ that has the part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise soaring. When you start to get used to the stretch, you nod again and Astarion presses in a bit further.

It takes what feels like a small eternity before he’s fully inside you. And oh, the stretch, the fullness has you feeling like you’re ready to shatter at any moment.

“Gods, your cunt is perfect. Like you were made for me,” Astarion says, through gritted teeth. It causes liquid fire to shoot through your veins and your cunt clenches around him. You think you actually manage to catch his brain short-circuiting as he lets out a strangled noise that’s a cross between a growl and a moan. 

“Tight… s-so tight. And wet,” Astarion groans, his mouth nearly hanging open. 

You feel a spark of pleasure deep within yourself over seeing this man- who acts so confident and above everyone- nearly disintegrate into a babbling mess from just the feel of your cunt around him. 

And then, Astarion begins to move and it’s you who becomes a babbling mess. The pressure stings a bit at first, but it doesn’t take long for the sweet feeling of pleasure to overwhelm you completely.

His pace feels torturously slow, as if he’s determined to make you feel every wonderful inch moving in and out of you. 

“More,” you plead, trying to move your own hips to speed up the rhythm. “Faster, please.”

Even when he picks up speed, it feels like he’s holding back.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, hooking one of your legs around his hips to urge him that much deeper inside you. 

Astarion listens to you then, finally, and begins thrusting into you at a rhythm that has your mind spinning. His hand snakes down between your bodies, moving to trace tight circles over your clit.

You feel as if you are ascending to the heavens. It should be impossible to feel this good.

And you’re so close to the edge, so close to that precipice of pure bliss.

“So close, Star,” you manage to gasp out. “So good.”

“Let go, little flower,” he says. “Want to feel you.”

Your second orgasm is earth-shattering. The kind of orgasm that makes it feel as if your soul itself is fracturing like beautiful glass inside you. The kind that has you arching your back and digging your nails into Astarion’s skin as you desperately try to tether yourself to reality. 

Astarion fucks you through it, rocking his hips into yours with a clinical precision that has stars dotting at the edges of your vision. 

He slows for a moment and then stops, hard cock still nestled firmly inside you. You let out a pathetic whine that makes Astarion give an involuntary little buck of his hips. You chase after him with your own, but he rests more of his weight on top of you, effectively trapping you underneath him. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight when you come. I need- I need a minute,” Astarion says, eyes screwed shut.

“Why?” you ask, pushing a lock of messy hair out of his face. It’s a good thing he can’t see himself in a mirror, he’d be distraught at the state of his hair.  “What are you waiting for?”

“Need to- fuck, need this to last. Never want this to end.”

It sends your heart soaring- the fact that Astarion is so determined to try to make this moment last as long as possible. Perhaps, beneath all his layers of pretend smiles and barbed wire guarding his heart, he’s secretly a romantic.

“Doesn’t have to end,” you murmur, nails scratching lightly at his scalp in the way you know he likes. “We can do this forever.”

And then, the most glorious thing happens. Astarion whimpers.

It’s one of those involuntary sounds that worked its way up from the back of his throat. You think you could grow used to the surge of power you feel inside you at forcing Astarion to lose his carefully practiced control. You want him to whimper again.

You use your grip on his hair to move his face towards yours to kiss him and you speak against his mouth, “Let me take care of you for once.”

You feel his nose rub against yours as he nods and you grin wickedly in triumph, gently pushing him off you so he’s laying back on the bed. Astarion looks confused for a moment before you settle on his lap, moving to guide him back inside you. You’re still so sensitive after your last orgasm, you feel every wonderful ridge and vein of his cock inside you. 

You lean down, biting his ear before you whisper, “You deserve to not have to do all the work for once.”

And then you move, rising and lowering yourself against his cock. This new angle has him hitting impossibly deeper, has him pressing against some secret, sponge-y spot that makes your toes curl every time he’s fully inside you.

So, this was what all the fuss was about. Why men waged wars and forsook religion. For what gods can compete with the way that Astarion moved inside you? And what cruel gods indeed if they forbade this act of your salvation. You felt as if you had been born anew atop Astarion’s cock. 

You bite your lip, trying to dampen the barrage of noises that threaten to spill out of you.

“No,” Astarion nearly cries out, his thumb coming up to pull your lower lip out from between your teeth. “Need to- fuck, need to hear you.”

Oh, he’s desperate in the best way possible. You stop holding back- let out every gasp and moan and curse. Astarion’s hands come up to your breasts- kneading and squeezing them and pinching your nipples and he’s looking at you with such awe that you think you could tell him you were an angel sent from the heavens and he would believe you. 

Your thighs are starting to burn when Astarion’s hand moves from your breasts to curl around your throat and you mewl at how perfectly his hand fits around your neck. His thumb traces gently over his bite mark from earlier, his eyes getting even more desperate and hungry, all fiery red like he’s going to consume you alive. 

Astarion is not subtle about his obsession with the marks and bruises he leaves on your skin. 

You think that animalistic, instinctual part of him is proud of the idea that everyone knows he was the one to give you those marks. And you have never tried to hide them, even if particularly nasty marks on the column of your throat sent Gale’s eyes skittering to look anywhere but you and caused Shadowheart to make snide comments about them as she helped you dress. 

You toss your hair over your shoulder, displaying the bite even more proudly, still rolling your hips against his own. 

Astarion uses his grip around your neck to pull you down against him and press his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. One of his fangs must catch on something because there’s that wonderful metallic taste of blood being shared between you two.

“Where?” He pants out against your lips.

And because you’re a little dizzy with the influx of new sensations, your brain can’t quite decipher what Astarion means. “Where what?” 

“Where can I come, darling?”

Oh. Oh.

Although Astarion could have told you simply that the sky was blue in that husky voice and it would have caused your eyes to roll back in your head, those deliciously racy words out of his mouth have you practically turning into mush. 

“Gods,” you breathe out. “Anywhere you want. Inside?”

Because the idea of being separated from him for even a moment seems unbearable. And that was the right answer based on the way Astarion’s hips start to buck into you with wild abandon. 

You continue to move together, two inseparable bodies- unable to tell where one ends and the other begins. His cock pulses inside you before he lets out a strangled moan and you feel him come inside you.

Tired and spent, with aching thighs, you settle yourself on top of Astarion. You have laid your head on his chest many times and his lack of heartbeat will never get less foreign. Though, you do feel a sense of satisfaction that he’s also exhausted- panting beneath you and trying to catch his breath. Astarion’s cool chest feels wonderful against your flushed, sweaty skin. 

“Where did an innocent thing like you even learn about this position?” Astarion asks and you can hear the delighted little teasing tone in his voice. “Here I was thinking I’d have all sorts of fun things to teach you.”

Despite the fact that Astarion cannot see your face, you roll your eyes. You know he thinks you naive and bashful because you are inexperienced. 

“Married women whisper rather loudly if you know how to eavesdrop,” you tell him. “You can find out all sorts of salacious secrets- whose husband has a mistress or whose child might have been born a bit too early after the wedding. More interestingly, you learn all about what scandalous things happen in the bedroom between married couples. ‘Riding Saint George’ caused quite the uproar a few seasons ago.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Astarion laughs and you feel his chest rumbling underneath your cheek. 

“And I know all sorts of things,” you defend yourself to Astarion. “Most other ‘prim’ and ‘proper’ ladies would have balked the moment your head went between their thighs.”

“Well, I can’t wait to see the extent of your knowledge. And fill in any gaps that might arise,” he says in a low, seductive voice that makes you keenly aware of the fact that his cock is still inside you. 

Propping your head up on Astarion’s chest, you look at him, giggling a bit at the way his dark, sultry eyes contradict rather comedically with the mess that had become his hair. He’d need a small fortune’s worth of pomade to tame it.

“We probably should have saved the bath for after that, huh?” you grin, reaching up to brush some of the loose curls away from his forehead. 

When Astarion laughs, you use that as the opportunity to slip off of him, hissing at the dull ache between your thighs and the feeling of how desperately you already miss him inside you. 

Astarion gets up to find the towel that had somehow ended up thrown over the folding screen in the corner of the room as the two of you had desperately clawed at one another and stumbled over to the bed. Astarion wets the towel and returns, gently wiping it in between your legs.

You hiss. Astarion looks at you worried, like he just committed the greatest crime in the world by hurting you. 

“Sensitive, s’all,” you explain and he returns to carefully wiping away any residue of your coupling. 

Astarion’s arm wraps around your waist as he settles next to you on the bed. He has a book on his bedside table that you grab and read aloud. It’s wonderful how easily the two of you settle back into your old patterns. You read until your eyes start to grow heavy and you instead shift your focus your attention to studying Astarion’s beautiful face. His eyes close and he relaxes as you gently trace your fingers over his strong brow, down his lovely nose, over the curve of his jaw.

“Can you turn into a bat?” You ask, half on your way to sleep. 

“Why would you possibly be wondering that after I’ve just given you the most memorable night of pleasure you’ve ever known?” Astarion asks, eyes opening to look at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

You giggle and poke him on the tip of his nose. He playfully catches your finger in his mouth and gives it a gentle bite. 

“I don’t know. I always thought they were cute when I was a girl. And I think you’re cute now. And you’re a vampire. My mind just connected some dots.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, “I’m not cute, darling. Dashingly handsome or devilishly good-looking, maybe, but not cute.”

“I think it would be weirder if I called a bat dashingly handsome than if I called you cute,” you say, scrunching up your nose. 

You had missed this- the easy back and forth that you always managed to find with Astarion. You had been so lonely without him, your best friend. Yet another reason why you love him is because he understands you innately, because the two of you have managed to dig your way so far under each other’s skins and find a home there. 

“I’d rather you didn’t compare me to a bat at all,” Astarion says, still acting as if you have gravely offended him by daring to call him cute and like he doesn’t require your compliments as a basic necessity to survive. He lets out a sigh, as if you are greatly annoying him (you both know you are not) and finally answers your question. “And no, I can’t turn into one. As a general rule, I try to stay as far away from rodents as possible.”

Weird rule, you think. 

“Pity, I’d bet you’d be cute. You’d probably be white, like one of those albino ones,” you tease, bringing your hand up to tug on his mess of white curls. 

“I worry for your sanity, darling.”

You gasp, a big dramatic one that Astarion himself would be proud of. “Don’t tell me you just passed up an opportunity to make a joke about how you ‘fucked me stupid’ or something obscene like that.”

“I would never debase myself with such vulgarity.” He says in mock offense at your words before his lips twist up in a lecherous grin that you know means trouble. “Besides, it sounds so much better from your lips, my love.”

Astarion leans forward and kisses you on your vulgar mouth.

The two of you resume holding each other, wrapped in your little cocoon of love. But your mind is still elsewhere.

“I found one when I was younger, you know,” you break the silence.

Astarion hums. “One what?” 

“A bat,” you remind him. “It was right after my mother died. The poor thing was injured. It had a broken wing and was just crawling helplessly on the ground. I brought it home with me, foolishly thinking I could heal it. When my father found it in my room that night, he made me watch while a servant killed it. He told me I shouldn’t be messing around with nature, that I was lucky it didn’t give me rabies.”

You shiver a bit at the memory of the bat’s tiny head caved in where your father had ordered a servant to take a shovel to the animal. You think of that poor man’s distraught face, how he had been unable to disobey if he wanted to keep his job, if he wished to be able to feed his family.

You continue speaking, “It felt like my father was telling me that caring about something doesn’t matter. But I disagree with that- I think we should try to help the things we love no matter what. Even if it is a stupid bat that might give you rabies.”

“I’d still love you. Foaming mouth and all,” Astarion smiles at you.

“Liar,” you say, poking his cheek.

Astarion frowns, but doesn’t say anything for a long time. You see him chewing on something in his mind but you give him time- you try to trust him to tell you when he is ready. 

“You’re going to die some day,” his voice is grim when he speaks. “Unless…”

Well, that’s a bummer. 

“Unless I’m a vampire,” you complete his train of thought.

And you can’t say the idea had never occurred to you. Especially as you had sat at Astarion’s bedside when he was injured. 

At times, he had been thrashing and screaming so violently that he would reopen the wound on his abdomen. You had been frantic watching him like that. Shadowheart had to practically pry you away from him so that he didn’t accidentally injure you in his flailing.

You never speak of those memories with Astarion, no matter how deeply they haunt you. You know they would only serve to embarrass him, that he would only interpret your care as pity. You know this because you would think the same.

But as you sat and watched him, useless except for your blood, you had a long, long time to think about what would have happened if you were the one that was injured. Would Astarion have cared? Would he have sat at your bedside in anguish as you recovered? 

No, you had realized. Because a wound like his would have left you dead. 

“When I asked you if you’d ever want to be a vampire, you said you didn’t know if you would. That it would depend on the circumstances. Is that still true?” Astarion asks, searching your face for an answer you’re unsure you’re able to give. 

Because it’s not that you don’t ever want to be a vampire. It’s just all too soon. You and Astarion had only been married for six months and you had just gotten back on solid ground after a very rocky two weeks. 

And you know that you do want Astarion forever, but you also want to settle into this new life with him for a while longer. There was still so much he was hiding from you and you don’t want the memory of your turning to be tainted by doubts or hesitation. It should be a joyous occasion- the true union of your souls that you didn’t get at your wedding.

“I don’t know…” you trail off, a bit unsure of how to put your thoughts into words that will not hurt Astarion’s feelings. Instead, you choose to deflect, “Do you want to turn me? Is that why you’re asking this?”

“I can’t stand the thought of you being harmed. Of you dying.” Astarion laments, his eyes all blood red, reminding you of that monstrous gash in his side. “What a miserable existence that would be, not after I have known the ecstasy of being with you. Everything else just seems dull in comparison.”

And he’s right, the idea of a life without him seems hollow. Survivably, certainly, but lackluster. It reminds you of how Astarion can only see the gardens at night- still beautiful, still worth experiencing, but not nearly as vibrant or wonderful as you knew it could be. 

“I know I want to be a vampire someday,” you say. “I dread the thought of growing older while you remain unchanged. I hate the idea of becoming a burden to you in my old age.”

“You could never be a burden. And that’s a long way off,” Astarion tries to reassure you. 

Because for him, time isn’t running out. For him, time stretches and flows lazily like a river into the sea. And he had been like this for so long, had been a vampire many lifetimes longer than he had been alive. You can’t even begin to help him conceptualize what you mean, but you try anyway. 

“A long way off for me, but that’s nothing for you, Astarion. It will pass before you even notice.” You take a deep breath and try to communicate the thoughts that you yourself are not sure you fully understand. Interlacing your fingers with Astarion’s, you guide his hand to your mouth so you can press a kiss to the back of it. “I do want this, I want a life with you. Forever. I’m just- I’m not ready yet. Let me enjoy being alive a while longer. Let me choose when and how it happens.”

With a gentle smile, Astarion says, “Of course, my love. Just say when.”

—----------

Astarion hardly even lets you leave his bed the next few days. Not that you’re complaining about it. He separates himself only long enough to tell Gale to bring your meals to his room for the foreseeable future. Astarion’s very specific about how Gale is only supposed to knock and how under no circumstances are you to open that door. 

From your spot in the bed, linen sheets pulled up over your chest in an attempt to protect your modesty, you think you overhear Gale saying, “Under no circumstances would I want to,” before he leaves.

The next couple of months are a blur of sitting in front of warm fireplaces and reading and you and Astarion wrapped together, his cool skin only intensifying the burning desire within you. With the warmth in your heart, you wouldn’t even be able to tell it’s the dead of winter. The weather outside is dreary and miserable and you don’t even notice because you and Astarion are too consumed in one another. 

And touching. Always touching. Astarion seems unable to ever let you be out of his grasp, even if it was as simple as your feet being pressed against one another underneath the table at meals. 

The best part about winter is the long nights which allow you to keep the curtains open that much longer without fear for Astarion’s safety. He relaxes in the darkness, comes alive like those silly moonflowers you planted for him. In the dark, he’s less restrained, more confident (if it was possible to describe Astarion as more confident). 

You come to realize that Astarion doesn’t like the cold based on how he’s unable to resist warming his hands when he sees a fire and the pile of quilts he stacks on top of the two of you in bed before you sleep. You would wake up stifling if not for Astarion’s cool touch beneath the sheets. 

It’s wonderful how easily the two of you balance each other- hot and cold, alive and dead, sun and moon. 

And although Astarion hates winter, with enough carefully timed pouting, you do force him to humor you one evening when there’s a particularly beautiful snow. He bundles himself up in about ten layers and grumbles the whole time he’s pulling on his thick woolen greatcoat.

“Enough layers,” you laugh, tugging on his hands to pull him outside. 

“I’m freezing,” he says, stopping completely and tugging you backward by your interlaced hands when you’ve only made it about three steps out the door.

The sky is cloudy and there’s no silvery moonlight to highlight Astarion’s beauty tonight. You have to be content with the way the torches that line the entrance to the manor make his face all shadows and sharp angles. 

“Poor star,” you say in a mocking tone. You step back toward him, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek as you promise in a low voice, “I’ll warm you up later.”

“I’d much prefer if you would warm me up now.”

“Patience is a virtue, my love,” you tell him and drag him out further into the snow.

He catches you around the waist, pulling you against him to whisper in your ear, “I’m not a virtuous man.”

And for a second, you do consider the merits of letting him drag you back inside. But it’s been so long since you’ve seen a snow this pretty and it’s getting late in the season and you aren’t going to let your lust-addled mind win out. Astarion could wait- you would have a lifetime with him. You need to appreciate fleeting moments as they come. 

“Help me build a snowman,” you say, attempting to distract yourself from the flames of desire burning hot within you. 

Astarion looks incredulous, “What do you take me for? A child?”

“I take you for a man who loves his wife very much and would make her very happy if he listened to her,” you say, looking up at him and trying to bat your lashes in that way he can’t resist.

He sighs, one of those big dramatic ones that is meant to make you feel like you’re the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Always an actor, your husband. You have grown to appreciate it now that you can understand the man beneath the performance. 

“The last thing I want is to ruin my beautiful nails,” he says with a frown.

“You’re wearing gloves,” you point out, laughing at his theatrics. 

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ll supervise. That suits my talents far better.”

And so, Astarion sets to work micromanaging you like his life depends on it. Over a stupid snowman that he called childish. 

You can hardly even pack a bit of snow into a ball before Astarion is complaining about it being lopsided or that the ratio between the different snowballs is off and making the thing look ugly. It takes entirely too long to complete. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

You look at the completed snowman for a second, feeling a sense of accomplishment in your work. And then, you reach out to kick it over. 

“See,” you grin up at Astarion. “That’s the fun part.”

“Gods, you’re ridiculous,” Astarion says, leaning down to kiss you. 

But you also know he’s secretly disappointed he didn’t get to kick down a snowman. 

“C’mon, I’ll build another one for you,” you tell him.

When he isn’t looking, you roll a ball of snow in your hands and throw it at his back. He stiffens and turns, shooting you an angry glare over his shoulder. Trying to hold back your laughter, you reach down to collect another bunch of snow in your hands.

“Don’t you dare-” Astarion starts to say, but is interrupted by the snowball that strikes him directly in the center of his chest. “Oh, you’ll pay for that, you insolent little-”

You let out a little shriek as he starts to chase after you. With your feet sinking into the snow, you aren’t able to run very fast and Astarion somehow manages to move so deftly and sneakily, as if the snow itself was helping to hold him aloft. He gains on you quickly. It feels so different than that first night in the garden, when you had been running for your very life. This time, you sneak peaks over your shoulder, admiring Astarion’s beauty and eagerly awaiting for him to catch up to you. 

You’re a bit off-balance when his hands finally wrap around your waist. The two of you end up tumbling into the snow and you land on top of Astarion with a loud ‘oof.’

And although Astarion hates the cold, he settles into snow beneath him, wrapping his arms around you tighter and pressing your foreheads together as you both shake in laughter. He looks beautiful like this, underneath you. The tip of his nose is red from the cold air. He looks alive. 

After your laughing fit subsides, Astarion says with exasperation, “Well, if I’m already down here.”

He starts moving his arms up and down in the snow and it’s a bit jarring considering you’re still laying on top of him.

Oh, you realize. He’s trying to make snow angels. 

With a delighted giggle, you roll off him into the snow to join him, moving your arms and legs in time. With every stroke of your arms, you make sure to reach out so that your gloved fingers brush against his.

Eventually, you pull yourself up out of the snow, carefully brushing the snow out of the fur lining your coat and thinking about how Shadowheart is going to scold you tomorrow for getting the beautiful fur all wet. Astarion stays on the ground, elegantly sprawled and content to watch you. His pale skin and white hair would almost blend in if not for the rosy pink on his cheeks and nose. You feel a sense of pride simmering within you that it was your blood which gave him that lovely coloring. 

“Help me up?” Astarion asks, holding his hands out for you to grab.

“No! You’re just going to pull me down again! You’re not nearly as clever as you think you are.”

Astarion pouts. You hate to admit that you are just as susceptible to giving him what he wants as he is to you. 

“Spoiled little rich boy,” you huff, grabbing his hands to pull him up. You can tell he’s pulling back against you, trying to be difficult. “Come on, you’re making this hard on purpose!”

Astarion laughs and finally stands up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight against him. The wool collar of his coat is soft and a bit fuzzy where it brushes against your cheek. 

“Thank you, my love.” Astarion says in a quiet voice, dropping a kiss along your hairline. “I haven’t laughed that hard in years. You help me remember what it’s like to feel young again.”

Oh, there goes your little heart. Thumping away like a racehorse. 

“You are still young. Or at least, you still look young,” you tease.

“Not everyone can age as gracefully as me,” Astarion says wistfully, as if his beauty is some great curse that he is forced to live with. 

“Like a fine wine,” you agree, playing into his ego. 

“I do recall that you promised to warm me up,” Astarion murmurs huskily in your ear. It has your head spinning and your cunt aching. “I’d like to take you up on that offer now.”

You nod, breathless, and let him lead you back inside. The two of you strip out of your wet clothes, spreading out on a blanket in front of the fire and you thoroughly warm Astarion by sinking to your knees and using your mouth on him. 

You curl around one another after, Astarion’s head against your chest as you cuddle together underneath a blanket. 

“I have to leave tomorrow,” Astarion says, interrupting the comfortable silence.

“Have to?” you challenge him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “And let me guess- I can’t come. That’s why you humored me tonight.”

“You know I worry too much about your safety. So no, you cannot come. Not while you’re still human.”

“I don’t appreciate you using my humanity as a bargaining chip,” you hiss back at him. 

You know he doesn’t mean to make you mad. You know that deeply, down to his core, Astarion is terrified of losing you and that fear will always be present until you ascend past the confines of mortality.

Astarion takes a deep breath, shifting his weight onto his arm so he can hover over you and see your face. His voice softens as he looks down at your angry, furrowed brow, “I apologize, little flower, that’s not my intent. I just- I would be too worried about you, it would jeopardize everyone else’s safety and they don’t deserve that.”

He’s right, of course. And you appreciate him listening to you and reframing his words in a better way. That is what love is- challenging the other person to do better. 

But you can’t help feeling that you could be of use if Astarion would just tell you what’s going on. You have your own anxieties. You worry greatly for his safety, too. And it just feels a bit like he’s prioritizing himself over you. It doesn’t feel equal. 

When you’re still silent, Astarion drags his thumb gently across cheek, “We can take another trip when I get back. Just the two of us, anywhere you want to go.”

You smile at him. You really do see and appreciate him trying. 

You do not know Astarion’s romantic history, but you are sure he must have had many, many lovers based partly on how skilled he is at sex, but based mostly on how wonderful he is. Who wouldn’t want to be around him? Who wouldn’t fall in love with this man immediately? He was snarky and funny and somehow still managed to be impossibly sweet and gentle. 

But you also had a feeling that Astarion was not very experienced at being in love. There were times where he seemed so unsure, times where he seemed almost clumsy with his love, and many times like this where it felt like the two of you were speaking different languages. You were both still learning how to work together and how to compromise after so long of only looking out for yourselves. 

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“To the Underdark,” Astarion says. And he must expect your displeased response because he rolls to lie next to you, so that he is looking at the ceiling instead of your upset face. 

“Why on earth would you be going to a place like that?” You ask, surprised. The Underdark was a lawless, dangerous place. It was where criminals and lowlives congregated and festered. You can see the wheels in Astarion’s head turning, trying to come up with some lawyer-y answer that doesn’t answer your question at all so you use the promise. “Honest.”

And so far, he has respected that promise. Usually, his answers were purposefully vague. But sometimes he gave you answers that were actually useful. You had finally learned who the strange people he was always whispering with were. Astarion had even introduced you to them over dinner the next time they had visited. 

Karlach you had met previously, when Astarion was injured. You didn’t like to think about that time. It was much easier to pretend you first met Karlach over dinner, where she was all big smiles and boisterous laughter. You got along with her easily, but she seemed like the type of person that everyone got along with.

Lae’zel was the mean-looking lady and she was from very far away, Astarion had explained. Her homeland didn’t have the same restrictions for women, so she was raised and trained to be a warrior before they met in Baldur’s Gate. She didn’t say much at dinner, just chewed her meat angrily. 

And Wyll was the man with the two differently-colored eyes. He was very polite and very cordial- the perfect gentleman. He promised to dance with you at the next ball after Astarion had made a mocking comment about his fancy feet. 

But tonight, Astarion’s voice is measured when he speaks, each word carefully chosen. “I’m looking for something. And I just got some new information that leads me to believe I’ll find what I’m looking for there.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you choose not to pry further, no matter how desperately you want to. You respected Astarion enough to use the promise of honesty sparingly. He deserves the opportunity to tell you things of his own free will. 

But really, you could have guessed he was looking for something. At least now you have confirmation. Now, you just need to figure out what he’s looking for. And why.

“How long do you expect to be gone?” You ask instead, turning your head to study his profile.

“A few days. A week at most. I’m going to take both Lae’zel and Karlach with me. The only thing I want to repeat about my last trip is to see you welcoming me home, full of blood for me to drink.” Astarion turns his head to give a mischievous little grin. 

You know he is trying to deflect, trying to lighten the mood with playful banter. But you can’t help but feel your heart stutter in your chest as you picture him, bloody and wounded, bleeding out in front of you. You tear your gaze away from Astarion, back to the ceiling so you can close your eyes, willing away those horrible images. 

“I’ll miss you,” you tell him and you feel his pinky finger brush against your own. It makes you smile. Touching. Always touching. You sigh, “I get bored when you’re gone. And it’s winter, so I can’t even work in the garden to keep me busy.”

“I fear what happens when you grow bored,” Astarion teases. He’s probably right to fear considering the last time you were too bored you had broken into his study. 

Astarion presses himself up again to lean over you again, eyes hungry and redder than blood. “You’ve given me such a lovely memory tonight to think of when my time on the road grows dull. Perhaps I need to give you one, as well.”

He leans down to give you a lingering kiss. You savor the way his lips glide against yours, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Astarion’s hand begins to trail up from your hip slowly, over the curve of your waist, heading toward where your hardened nipples press against his own chest. 

“Not tonight, too tired,” you yawn and Astarion’s hand dances back down over your ribs, instead, his thumb moving in little circles over your skin. You give him your own imitation of one of his signature sinful smiles as you say, “And I have plenty of those memories already, but they’re a poor substitute to actually being with you. My hands just aren’t as adept as yours. Makes me miss you worse.”

“It’s true, I do have wonderful hands.” Astarion lifts one of his hands up between the two of you to admire it. You bring your own hand up to meet his, pressing your palms together and appreciating how his hand compares to yours. 

Astarion twines your fingers together. The fire crackles and glints against his gold wedding ring.

His wedding ring.

Which had been noticeably missing from his ring finger since the night of your wedding. 

“You’re wearing your ring,” you point out, a thrill of pleasure running through your veins. You continue moving his hand, watching how the firelight twists and shines off the gold. 

Good, you think, let the world know that this perfectly imperfect man is mine. 

“Have been for weeks, pet. I thought you noticed it already and just didn’t say anything.” Astarion says with that soft voice reserved especially for you. 

You detangle your hand from his, sliding the ring off his finger as you go.

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, trying to pull it back out of your grasp so he can put it back on his finger. 

You push Astarion off you and sit up and Astarion looks utterly lost about what’s going on. You’re content to let him sweat for a little bit because you feel he didn’t make a big enough deal about the fact that he had started to wear his ring again. 

Pulling your hair over your shoulder, you turn to look at Astarion. “Help me.”

Astarion- dutiful, devoted husband that he is- sits up to help you unclasp the necklace chain which holds your own ring. You slide the delicate gold band off the chain for the first time since you had put it there and press the ring into his palm while you hold onto his own. 

“Let’s try this again. Do you, Astarion Ancunin, take me to be your lawfully wedded wife?” You ask in a low voice, trying to be serious in what feels like a childish, silly moment. 

You are worried that Astarion will laugh at you for being foolishly sentimental but when you look at him, Astarion is gazing back at you with a matching goofy grin on his face, like you had just hung the sun and stars in the sky for him. 

“I do,” he says and his lovely, beautiful voice lilts through the air and dances its way into your heart. You slip the ring back over his finger, cherishing the way the gold looks nearly incandescent against his pale skin.

Mine, you think, now and forever.

You motion with your hand for him to go next.

Astarion clears his throat. “Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” you choke out in a whisper and Astarion slips the ring onto your finger, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. You think you might have seen tears welling up in his eyes and your own vision is starting to go a bit blurry. It feels like the wedding you never really got. 

“Where’s Gale to tell you to ‘kiss the bride’ when you need him?” You ask with a watery laugh.

“I think I can manage that perfectly well by myself,” Astarion huffs. “And knowing Gale, we’d be here all day before he got around to saying the important part.”

“Who’s the one being wordy now? Just kiss me already,” you tease.

And he does. Over and over and over again until your lips are swollen and your head is spinning.

“I’ll miss you,” Astarion murmurs against your lips. 

His words tear you back to reality, force you to remember a world outside of this perfect moment, which has wrapped around the two of you like a warm blanket. 

“You don’t have to miss me if you take me with you,” you point out, nudging your nose against his. 

“Cute,” Astarion says. “But not going to work.”

You pout in that way that always makes Astarion give you what you want.

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose. “That won’t work either.”

Alas, that’s all the dirty tricks you have left in your metaphorical pocket. 

“You better bring me back something really good, then,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. 

Astarion laughs- all golden and shimmery and filling the room with the warmth of the sun. 

—-------

Astarion wakes you up with a gentle kiss the next evening, when the sun is just about to slip past the horizon into night. He’s kneeling beside the bed, dressed in what can only be described as armor. It’s concerning, to say the least. The Underdark is dangerous, certainly, but the implication that whatever he’s doing is dangerous enough warrant armor has you even more worried. 

“Goodbye, my love. I’ll be back in a few days,” Astarion’s voice is soft and his fingers run gently through your hair. It would be the perfect way to wake up if he wasn’t leaving.

“Be safe. I love you” you tell him, feeling hopeless at your lack of control over whether he will return home safely. 

“I love you, too. Go back to sleep,” he urges you, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. 

There’s something gnawing at you as you watch him slip silently out of the bedroom door. It still feels like he’s not telling you the truth. 

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

Notes:

Yay! Everyone is happy (for now…)

Not going to lie, I had a whole blowjob scene written for this chapter and decided to cut it because this thing is already monstrously long without it and I honestly didn't feel like it was contributing anything new to the story. So I'll probably repurpose it for a later chapter or I might post it as a separate little side fic because it did have some dialogue that I thought was funny that wouldn't work later. We'll see…

Fun fact, the 'lamentable is the autumn picker' poem is something that Astarion did have sewn into his shirt in early access and as a poetry lover, I think it is one of the loveliest lines I've ever read. He's also got a funny little line sewn into his underwear in the game that makes me laugh: 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky.'

Another fun fact, 'Riding Saint George' was actually a regency era slang term for riding a guy. It comes from the story of Saint Georgy and the Dragon, where the dragon looms over St. George. So the phrase essentially means that the woman (like the dragon) is on top during 'amorous congress.' I heard about this term in a different regency era fic I read forever ago and I thought it was so funny and I'm so happy I finally got the chance to use it somewhere.

I'm going to try to have chapter 7 out at around the same time as normal next Sunday but I am in grad school and going to a conference out of town next weekend so it depends a bit on when I can sneak away to post. Fair warning, the next two chapters are going to be very plot heavy and then we will be back to more fluffy, smutty goodness for the final two chapters.

I love you guys so much!!! I wish I could give all of you little kisses on the foreheads! It makes my day every time I read a new comment and I felt like an evil overlord all week feasting on your suffering from last chapter lol. Thanks for sharing this crazy journey with me- it makes it all the more fun!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer AliensNSuch on ao3.

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!