#and i did all their supports and got their paired ending and its so NOTHING i do not understand why ppl went so crazy . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oddinary4bts · 3 months ago

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Chasing Cars | ch 13 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: college anxiety, angst, Gabrielle, Lisa, alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating, a frat party, explicit content: implied sex

☆word count: 8.9k

☆a/n: more angst oop- I hope you guys like it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, August 30

Summer came and went. Like everything in life, it became just a moment in time, a short movie consisting of flashing scenes of friendship and fun and sun, of pools and tanning and hikes. Summer was perfect, summer was healing, yet summer couldn’t heal everything.

Summer hasn’t healed a doe-eyed boy from your heart, but you think it’s okay. You think, perhaps your love for Jungkook is just everlasting, another one of those memories you know you’ll cherish for the rest of your life.

You reckon, if you were to have kids one day and they’d asked you who your first love was, you wouldn’t be able to answer their father.

It will always be Jungkook, no matter the bitterness and the pain of the ending.

It’s his necklace you wear on your heart every day after all.

You’ve worked all summer, amassing money to cover your expenses for the year. You’ve gone back home with Taehyung for a week your mother had off, and you spent it camping like you did when you were kids, gaze getting lost in starlight and sun rays on the water, reflections of light that left afterimages on your retina.

Much like Jungkook is an afterimage on your heart. Never fully erased, yet the pain isn’t as sharp anymore. Like the time soothed its edges, reminding you of the good part, allowing you to let go of the bad.

The first news you had of Jungkook this summer was stories posted on a Saturday evening, of him and Lisa and friends in New York City. Turns out Lisa landed an internship at an architect firm in New York through her father’s connections, and turns out it was all she needed to be welcomed into Jeon Jungkook’s world over there.

You’d been jealous back then, bitterly so. Yoongi, bless his heart, had forced you to hang out at his place, claiming the empty room needed to be repainted before Namjoon moved in for the semester. It’d been a good distraction, and by the end of the weekend, you’d realized that Jungkook was allowed to have friends, to move on from your idyllic moment in his life.

It hurt, but it was a sign of healing.

You got closer to Yoongi over the summer. Learned all about his past, about his high school and how his parents were supportive when he came out, yet reluctant when he brought his first boy home. He’d told you how he met Hoseok in his last year of high school despite not attending the same school, and how their friendship had immediately blossomed.

Only to wither in April, when Hoseok had chosen to leave. None of you or your friends have had any news of him since then, like he wiped his existence from all of your lives like it was nothing. It’s been hard for Yoongi, harshly so, so you’ve made sure to always be available for him, too.

Namjoon and Nabi’s relationship didn’t suffer such a fate. They’ve only been growing stronger over the summer, proof that despite Namjoon getting out of his relationship with his ex and jumping in the one with Nabi right away, they were meant for each other. In truth, you’ve never seen anyone love each other like Namjoon and Nabi do, and maybe that most of all has healed your bleeding heart.

There has to be someone out there who’ll love you like you’re the one who paints his every sunset.

Seokjin wasn’t on the receiving end of such a relationship. He’d confessed to Ria halfway through the summer, telling her that he couldn’t do the see-saw anymore, that he needed everything or nothing, and in good Ria fashion, your friend ran. She ran and ran, until Seokjin told her he was ashamed of having believed she deserved to be loved.

The blow has been hard on Ria, and she hasn’t been with anyone since then. Hasn’t mentioned Seokjin once either, but you know that, whenever you go out, he’s the one she’s looking for.

The strangest part of this summer happened on a random Tuesday evening when you’d just come home from work. Taehyung and Ariane, ever so the lovebirds, had been hanging out in the living room when you’d crossed the threshold. Taehyung’s gaze had shot to you, and he’d uttered words you think have been carved into your brain.

“Did you know Jungkook is the heir of JJS pharmaceuticals?”

You did. You knew about his father’s company - he’d told you once when you’d been lying with your head on his chest, one of the rare times he’d talked about his family after your weekend escapade to New York.

But you knew Jungkook’s existence had been mostly a secret, his father refusing to announce his existence to the world because Jungkook had refused to study at an Ivy League College.

At the confusion on your face - or rather, the masked pain you’d been hiding for weeks and months - Taehyung had added, “There was a conference press, and he’s all over social media.”

He was. You found out quickly enough, articles and articles about him showing up on your Instagram as well. You’d seen pictures from the press conference: though his father had been smiling wide, Jungkook had only been staring at the camera, like he’d wished he could disappear.

You don’t know what led him to accept a position at his father’s company before he’d even graduated, but you knew then and know now that it had to not have been his choice.

So indeed, summer came and went until it became just a memory, and the new semester now looms over the horizon, a reminder that though your skin might have been sunkissed these last few months, it’s now time to return to reality.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, indulging in Buldak noodles as you read a book about Faes and High Lords and a Night Court. You’ve started reading again over the summer, another way to escape that helped fill your breaks at work when you didn’t go out for lunch with your coworkers. It was nice to reconnect with your previous love for reading - indeed, you’d spent years in middle school and high school getting lost in fantasy and dystopian worlds, and recovering this part of you might have been another way to heal.

It’s reminded you that every story is worth telling, even those that don’t end well.

So you sit at the kitchen table, halfway done with your noodles, when the front door opens and closes.

“Hello!” you greet out of reflex.

Taehyung and Ariane were out shopping for groceries, and though they haven’t left a long time ago, you assume it’s them coming home.

“Do you need any help?” you ask as no one replies, which is strange.

They’re always talking about everything and nothing, joking around like they’re the only people in the world. It’s something you do find cute, but that always grates your nerves in all the wrong ways.

Where Nabi and Namjoon have been making you feel hopeful when it comes to love, Taehyung and Ria have made you jaded too.

The silence prolongs, and you don’t even hear them taking off their shoes. You furrow your brows, wondering if they’re trying to prank you. So you put your book down even though you are in the middle of a good scene, and you push up from the table, heading towards the kitchen’s doorway.

You reckon, maybe you should have expected it. You’d known he was coming back at some point - he still has a year left of college. But you didn’t think he’d show up on an early Friday evening, clutching his duffel bag and standing by the door like he’s a guest in his own home.

He’s changed. The first thing you notice is that he’s changed: he doesn’t have the eyebrow piercing anymore, his hair is shorter - almost entirely shaved at the sides - and though he still has the lip piercings, he looks different than what you remember.

As if a few months was enough to blur your memories of Jeon Jungkook, and the wound you’d thought to be healed over the last few months reopens, pouring liquid lava on your entire body until you think you’re burning, and not in a good way.

He’s dressed in all black, like some things don’t change after all. He looks more built than he was last semester, like he’s gone to the gym a lot more over the summer. His tattoos have also changed - they’ve been coloured, some of them, as if he tried to put colours back into his life.

You hope it worked. But when you hold his gaze, the heaviness making you want to disappear through the floor, you think maybe it didn’t work at all.

“Y/n,” he greets.

His voice has changed too. Or maybe it’s just the emotions, maybe it’s just the fact that the last thing he ever told you were those words in the letter you keep hidden in your night table, words you’ve romanticized every night trying to fall asleep.

Not that you would tell anyone.

“Jungkook,” you reply in the same tone.

He nods once, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and then he takes off his shoes. You watch him, dumbly standing in the doorway, and he shoots you a look once his shoes - black boots that look far too warm for the summer - are off.

“How are you?”

His three words throw you off. They make you feel like last semester might have been a construct of your imagination, but then again you hold that letter too dearly, and the memories of him have been your favourites for months now.

“I’m okay,” you reply, nodding once. “How are you?”

He pulls on his piercings, the gesture familiar yet so different than how you’ve been imagining it every night. “I’m chill.”

He starts to walk towards his room, but he stops halfway there, glancing over your head into the kitchen.

“Want something to eat?” you ask, and you wonder if he hears your heart as it picks up in your chest.

You see the moment he spies the Buldak noodles on the table. He smiles softly, with his eyes first, and you think maybe this is it.

Maybe he came back home.

Came back home to you.

But then his features fall, the smile vanishing and darkness invading his gaze. He shakes his head no, nodding towards his room. “Thanks, but I gotta unpack.”

You watch him walk the rest of the way towards his bedroom. He turns the knob, pushes the door open, yet he freezes there. His shoulders tense, and even though you don’t see his features, you know he wants to say something else.

You hope he will, hope he’ll say something that might mend the bridge between the two of you. That might erase this abyss between you and him until the ending disappears.

You know it’s because you haven’t seen him in a long time. Know that, when it all comes down to it, you wouldn’t go back to him - he broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to return to him. But you like to imagine that you would as he stands there, that you’d run to him if he turned and said the right words.

But he doesn’t. He sighs, and then he walks into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. And as he disappears from view, you feel yourself stumble, like you’ve taken a hit right to the chest. You lay a hand over your beating heart, almost expecting to feel blood trickling through your fingers.

As if he’s just broken your heart all over again, torn it from your ribcage. Yet it breaks - you didn’t think he still had that power over you.

Hell, you thought you’d been moving on.

You walk back into the kitchen, the room spinning around you. You drop in the chair you were sitting in before, eyeing your book. And though you want to get lost in the fantasy world again, you’re bleeding out on your chair, pain burning along every single one of your nerves.

How are you supposed to share a roof with the one that broke your heart?

The answer is easy. You can’t.

You need to get out of here, and quickly.

Monday, September 2nd

Your first day back to college is long. You’ve got two classes - a morning and an afternoon class, both of them three hours long.

When the second one ends - luckily half an hour early ‘because it’s the first day’ as the professor said - you make your way out of class with Nabi. She’s typing away on her phone, likely asking Namjoon when he’ll be home, yet she follows you as you head to the dorms.

You’ve been crashing at the girls’ dorm over the weekend, as you try to figure out what you should do. You haven’t figured anything yet - Taehyung’s been telling you that you shouldn’t move out, asking if it’s because of Ariane moving in, and though you’ve been good at avoiding mentioning Jungkook, there’s just so much you can do before you burst and admit that it’s because of him.

But it’s okay - Nabi’s been staying with Yoongi and Namjoon, so you have her bed all to yourself, and Ria and you have been treating it like a massive sleepover, doing face masks every night and getting mildly drunk on Saturday.

Nabi sighs as you walk towards the dorms, and you throw her a look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel like this semester is about to be the worst,” she admits, slightly shaking her head. “Namjoon basically confirmed it.”

You hook your arm with hers, resting your head on her shoulder. “Baby, it’s fine. We’re in this together.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the top of our class.”

“And you’re the second,” you remind her. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”

She nods, heaving out a heavy breath again. “Is it bad that I’m already anxious?”

You don’t reply right away, as you pass through a group of engineer students gathered in front of a class, most likely getting ready for an evening class. An evening class on the first Monday…

You feel bad for them.

“It’s not bad,” you reply once you’ve finally walked past. “It means that you care about your grades. You just need to not let it eat you alive.”

“I think I’m just realizing that getting into med school might be harder than we thought,” she says with a sigh.

You stop, tugging on her arm so that she stops too. “No, I’m not having any of that,” you tell her. “We’ll both get in, Nabi, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, folding her arms on her chest.

“Yup.” You nod forcefully. “Dead serious. And after that, it’s smooth sailing until residency. And then we get a residency together, and we become sexy doctors.”

“Bruh,” she lets out, and she chuckles.

You’re happy your distraction works because you truthfully didn’t know where you were headed with it. “I promise!” you insist. “Give us a couple of years, and we’ll have our own practice.”

“You want to be a surgeon, and I want to be an ophthalmologist,” she reminds you. “Not quite sure we’d practice at the same place.”

You shrug, and you start walking towards the dorms again. “To be fair, we’ll probably both end up at a hospital. We just need to find a way to work at the same one.”

She purses her lips. “That sounds doable.”

You smirk mischievously. “Damn right.”

*****

Nabi ends up staying with you and Ria at the dorm for a couple of hours after class, and you order takeout that you eat sitting in a circle on the floor like you usually do when you do pre-drinks before a party. It’s fun, more chill than a pre-party gathering, and Ria tells you all about how she ran into Seokjin on campus today.

“He didn’t even look at me,” she admits. “What a dick.”

You exchange a knowing look with Nabi. “Maybe he didn’t see you,” you try.

“He ignores me when we all hang out together too,” she points out. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

Nabi scrunches up her nose. “Yeah… you did lead him on for months.”

“Not my fault if he fell in love,” Ria grumbles, her gaze dropping to the rice bowl she’s eating.

“It might not be your fault, but you still led him on,” Nabi pushes.

Ria huffs a breath, scoffing, but she doesn't say anything. She never really does when it comes to Seokjin anyway.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with him again?” you ask.

The scalding look you earn would put a dragon to shame. “Because I don’t want to be in a relationship,” she says, sounding like you a year ago when your friends had been pestering you about Hoseok.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“We all know he’d treat you like a goddess though,” Nabi says. “The guy’s a hopeless romantic.”

Ria rolls her eyes. “Cringe.”

You playfully push her, and she bursts out laughing. You don’t miss the way her cheeks have dusted with pink though - and neither does Nabi - but you don’t mention it.

You have a feeling Ria is lying to herself more than she’s lying to the both of you, but you’d never dare tell her. She’ll figure it out on her own or not, and that’s what being in college is.

You try stuff; some of it works, and some doesn’t.

Jungkook invades your thoughts, your chest aching all over again. You reach for the peach at the end of the chain, playing with the pendant mindlessly as if that can tame the ache, push it back to the back rooms of your mind.

It barely works, yet you manage to be able to let go of him after a few deep breaths, and a prolonged silence of Nabi staring at Ria while the latter is solely focused on eating. Your unease went unnoticed, which you reckon is a relief.

Confiding in them about Jungkook has helped over the summer, obviously, but there are some things you want to keep to yourself. Because Jungkook deserves the centrepiece in all of the secrets you’ve ever held - he was the grandest of them all last semester after all.

Still is, considering you’ve been lying to Taehyung about him all summer. Not that you really had to lie. You just avoided mentioning Jungkook, staying vague about your semester while Taehyung told you everything about Paris.

And so you end up saying goodbye to Nabi when she decides to go over to Yoongi and Namjoon’s apartment - Namjoon was quick to take Hoseok’s old room, seeking to leave the dorms once and for all - and you and Ria watch Demon Slayer, her favourite anime.

Coincidentally one of Jungkook’s favourite animes too, not that it matters.

You sigh - reminders of him are everywhere lately, and though you have been moving on over the summer, the ache has been revived. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he at home, watching anime or playing video games? Is he hanging out with Taehyung, with Jimin and their other friends? Or is he locked up in his room like he was all of Friday, before you fled the apartment?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Because Jungkook will always matter: he meant too much to you. Still does, and you don’t know what to make of it.

Ria sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts as the episode finishes. You glance at her - you’re lying side by side on her bed, a laptop in between you to watch the show.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her.

She purses her lips, shrugging, though it proves to be awkward considering the position. “I don’t know. It’s just… Is something wrong with me?”

A concerned crease appears between your eyebrows. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know…” She pauses, gaze still focused on the laptop screen as if she can’t bring herself to meet your own. “Why am I so opposed to relationships? To love in general?”

Oh.

“Oh Ria…” you let out.

“Don’t,” she warns. “I don’t want to be pitied.”

You press your lips in a tight line, nodding once. She chuckles, and then she starts the next episode, like she needs a moment to collect her thoughts.

“It’s just…” she says as Tanjiro fights a demon, the fight continued from the last episode. “I’m aware that Seokjin would be good for me. I enjoyed spending time with him too. But the second he mentioned feelings…”

“It turned you off,” you complete for her.

She nods. “It really did.”

“Why do you think it did?” you ask, even though you know it has to be because of her ex.

She sighs deeply. “That’s the thing. I really don’t know. I had a loving family growing up, so I can’t blame it on that. I had friends too, good friends, but then when my ex cheated…”

“It broke the part of you that could trust easily,” you say. “And it’s understandable, and totally valid.”

“I guess so…” she trails off. “I just feel like letting someone in is too much of a vulnerability.”

“That makes sense,” you say. “You like being in control, and you feel like being in a relationship would make you lose control.”

She glances at you, eyes slightly narrowed. “Sometimes I swear to God you sound like a therapist.”

You laugh - it’s not the first time you’ve been told that. Yoongi said so last semester too, when you’d helped him get over Hoseok.

“Don’t ask me for advice though,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “I don’t think I’d have any good advice.”

“Not to be mean, but after what you put yourself through last semester, I don’t think your advice would be really helpful,” she teases.

You widen your gaze. “That was mean.”

She pouts, offering you puppy eyes. You push her on the shoulder, and she rolls on her back, laughing. “No, but seriously,” she says. “I don’t blame you. You fell in love, and that’s not your fault, is it?”

You remain silent, not wanting the conversation to turn to Jungkook.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes after a few seconds of silence. “You’re right, that was mean.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” you reassure her. “I saw all the red flags and chose to ignore them.”

Ria turns on her side again, facing you. “That’s love for you. Everyone ignores all the red flags the moment they start having feelings for someone else.”

Like Seokjin, but you don’t say it. You highly doubt she needs to hear it.

“Cheers to that,” you say, though you are void of any beverage at the moment.

You’ve left your water bottle on the floor, too far to reach from where you’re lying in bed.

“You know what we should do?” Ria says a while later, when the episode is coming to an end. “We should go to the party on Friday. The one Dave’s frat is hosting.”

The name Dave rings an extremely distant bell - you think you went to a party hosted by his frat last semester, but you’re not quite sure.

“I thought we were already planning to go.”

Ria looks at you, mischief slowly filling her gaze. “We should go and find some cute guys to forget about all of our problems with.”

You laugh. “Men aren’t the solution to everything, you know that, right?” you tease.

“Oof. They’re the root of the problem most of the time, I know.” She pauses, purses her lips. “But we’re due to have fun. You know Nabi and Namjoon will come for an hour or two and disappear anyway.”

“What about Yoongi?”

“We’ll find him someone too! He deserves it.” She nods, clearly convinced that her plan is the best she’s ever come up with.

And Yoongi does, you think that out of the three of you, he’s the one that deserves a healthy relationship the most.

So you nod your head, saying, “It’s going to be lit.”

You can only hope that it is and that you don’t end up crying because of a certain doe-eyed man you should have let go of months ago.

Friday, September 6th

[11:17 am] bröther👽: just letting you know that Gaby is in town so Ari will be staying with her [11:17 am] bröther👽: come home

The texts Taehyung sent to you in the morning sit unanswered on your phone. Mostly because you didn’t know what to say - he still firmly believes you’ve decided to move out because of Ariane, and you think it might have killed a possible friendship with her in the bud.

If only they knew why you truly left. It likely wouldn’t be any better - Jungkook would be dead in a ditch somewhere, and you’d be grounded by your older brother like you were when you were in high school.

You know Taehyung is likely only going to grow suspicious if you ignore him, but you really just don’t know what to say. He’s likely going to be at the party tonight - you’ll make an effort to speak to him, to reassure him, and then you’ll disappear with your friends.

That is, if Jeon Jungkook isn’t with him. Because if Jungkook’s there, you’ll avoid Taehyung like the plague, no matter if that might make him even more suspicious.

“I literally cannot physically wait,” Ria says next to you, and you shoot her a quick look as she puts mascara on.

She’s going all out tonight, and you wonder if it’s because Yoongi mentioned Kim Seokjin will be in attendance. Obviously, you don’t want to attract her ire, so you don’t say it, but you reckon Seokjin has been a ghost in every conversation since last Monday.

Much like Jungkook has been, but you’ve been good at pretending he hasn’t.

“I really hope they’ve stocked up on free alcohol,” you say, knowing you’ll need it, mostly because if Taehyung is in attendance, then Ariane will likely be, and so will Gabrielle.

Your heart sinks in your chest at the thought - you haven’t told Ria, not wanting to ruin her enthusiasm.

“Do you want to curl your hair?” Ria says as she finishes with the mascara.

You shrug. “Nah, I think I’ll keep it natural,” you answer. “But you should curl yours.”

She narrows her gaze, staring at herself in the mirror. “You know what, yeah, I should.”

You chuckle, and then you both busy yourself getting ready. You apply more makeup than you usually do, only because you know it’ll be a mask you’ll use all evening.

Does Gabrielle even know about your existence?

You finish getting ready, stealing from Ria’s closet to get dressed. You settle on a pair of black leather pants, along with a black crop top t-shirt that hugs tight to your frame, revealing just an inch of the bird tattoo you got done on your right ribs in May.

You stare at the ink, thinking about Taehyung’s reaction. He’ll likely be pissed at you, but you’re done caring. If he wants to be mad, then so be it.

“Your ass looks amazing in this,” Ria compliments from behind you, and you snort as you turn to look at her.

She’s wearing a sage green corset that leaves little to the imagination. You compliment her in return, and she winks at you, before suggesting to down a couple of shots before leaving. You immediately agree, and you’ve got a light buzz by the time you leave the dorms, heading to the frat house.

It’s already crowded by the time you get there, the loud music having attracted all the party-goers on campus. The front lawn is cramped, and Ria grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd to head to the house proper.

You make it to the hall, and luckily enough, there aren't as many people here. You’re able to navigate to the living room, where Dave - he really is the guy from last semester - finds you, offering drinks to the two of you.

You grab a beer, not trusting the questionable punch that Dave claims was prepared earlier today. Ria follows your lead, and you clink bottles with Dave, who admits he has no clue what’s in the punch when you’ve all taken your first sips.

“Bruh, why were you trying to sell it to us then?” Ria asks, eyebrows raised.

Dave laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Colton said it was good.”

Colton… you wonder if it’s the same Colton that had warned you about Jungkook once.

“And we’re supposed to trust Colton?” Ria teases.

Dave winces. “Not really, no, he’s already drunk.”

Ria nods as you take a sip of your beer, the bitter liquid heady on your tongue. You turn your head to the side, noticing a very distraught Yoongi walking into the living room, followed close by an even more distraught Seokjin. You wave them over, and Ria and Dave both turn their heads towards the new arrivals.

You notice Ria tensing from the corner of your eye, and Seokjin looks just as uncomfortable as he stops next to you. You hug Yoongi hello, and he doesn’t let you go right away, whispering in your ear, “This place is a shitshow, I don’t think we’ll stay.”

You pout as you pull away. “We said beer pong,” you remind him.

He rolls his eyes, though you know he’s always liked playing beer pong. So you manage to convince him to go for at least one game, though you know you’ll have to wait in line for a while before it’s your actual time to play. It makes for an awkward waiting - Ria and Seokjin are both ignoring each other, and Yoongi and you are standing in the middle, trying to engage in conversation.

You’re finally on the side of the table when you recognize your brother’s laugh, a sound you were sort of hoping not to hear in this crowd. You look to your left - he’s by the garden doors that lead to the backyard, Ariane cuddled up against him, and you think the girl standing with her back to you has to be Gabrielle.

“Shit,” you let out.

Yoongi furrows his brow at the sudden curse. “What’s wrong?” You motion towards the door, and his eyes widen. “Is that who I think it is?”

He knows about Gabrielle. He’s stalked her with you, during one of your many downward spirals, and Gabrielle has that kind of aura that is all too recognizable, even if you’ve only seen her once in a picture.

“I think so,” you reply, and Ria finally leans in to join the conversation.

“Is that Gaby?” she asks, loud enough for the people around you to hear.

You tap her arm, giving her a warning glance, though you’re pretty sure no one’s actually listening. Even Seokjin didn’t glance towards you at the outburst.

But Taehyung notices you, and you quickly turn away, pretending to be focused on the game unfolding on the table in front of you. There’s one cup on the left, three on the other side, and the girls playing are clearly more talented than you: they both shoot it in the lone glass when their turn comes, hugging as they shriek in happiness from their victory.

“Let’s go,” Ria says, and she pulls you to one end of the table as soon as the girls have moved.

Yoongi and Seokjin take the other side, even though Seokjin truly does appear like he wishes he wasn’t here, and you put the cups back into their spot, reorganizing the table.

Your brother appears next to you before you start, and you offer him a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

“Me?” you let out, your voice uncharacteristically high. “Nothing.”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says through gritted teeth, the typical Kim temper flaring up.

You grab the neon orange ball Ria hands you, shrugging your shoulders. “I haven’t. Just been busy.”

He clenches his jaw, yet remains silent as you focus on the table, preparing for the first shot, the one that determines who between you and Ria or Yoongi and Seokjin will play first.

You’re against Yoongi, so you know you’ve already lost when you shoot. To your surprise, Yoongi misses, his ball bouncing off on the side of a cup. Yours flies way off the table, and you wince.

“That was trash,” Taehyung comments.

“Thanks,” you fire back.

Ria and Seokjin throw, and Ria surprisingly manages to get the shot. You clap your hands as she offers you a thumbs-up.

“Seriously though,” Taehyung asks, handing you the ball that Seokjin threw. “What’s wrong? Why did you move out?”

“Hold on,” you say.

You take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety of his questioning away, and you throw. The ball stays on the table this time, bouncing right next to one of the cups.

“Honestly it’s just so that I can spend time with Ria,” you answer, motioning to your friend. “She’s going through shit.”

Ria tenses next to you, offering you a quick glare before she focuses on shooting, unfortunately missing the cups.

“Oh,” Taehyung lets out. “I thought it was because of Ari.”

Speaking of Ari, you don’t see her anywhere near. You wonder where she went off to - are you lucky enough that she and Gabrielle left the party?

“Not at all,” you reply, and then you focus on the game as Seokjin and Yoongi prepare to throw. They both make it into a cup, and you clink your almost empty beer with Ria’s, taking a long sip before you move the cups to the side. “Ari’s super sweet.”

“She’ll be relieved when I tell her so,” Taehyung admits. “She was saying she could leave if it was an issue with you that she moves in with us.”

“It really isn’t,” you reassure Taehyung, feeling momentarily guilty for making Ariane feel like that. “I’ll probably come back eventually too.”

Taehyung’s eyes light up. “That’d be sick. We need to start doing Taco Tuesdays again.”

Taco Tuesdays. You’d forgotten all about them last semester - you’d spent every Tuesday last fall eating tacos with Taehyung, Jungkook joining once in a while. It was a tradition you’d had growing up with your mother too - when she wasn’t too busy working.

“I’m down,” you reply, and you get ready to throw.

To your surprise, you make the shot, landing it in the first cup at the front. Ria throws hers, and it bounces on the rim of one of the glasses before Seokjin catches it expertly.

“Is Jungkook coming tonight?” you ask.

Everything stills inside of you. You don’t even know why you asked - you didn’t even think about it before the question fell. But then again, you think it makes sense that Jungkook would invade your thoughts now.

When does he not?

Ria throws you a curious look at the question, though you don’t miss the disapproval in the furrow of her brows.

“JK?” Taehyung says, as if he wasn’t sure. “I don’t think so. He says he wants to focus on college this semester.”

You nod curtly, getting ready to defend your cups as Seokjin and Yoongi throw. To your luck, they both miss, and you let Ria shoot first as you focus on Taehyung again.

“Makes sense now that he has to work for his father’s company, no?” you say, trying to sound as if you don’t care.

As if Jungkook is not the center of your universe, still to this day.

“I guess so,” Taehyung comments, and you throw, entirely missing the table again.

Ria lands hers in a cup though, which leaves four cups in front of the boys and three in front of you and Ria.

“I still can’t believe the motherfucker is rich and he never told us,” Taehyung adds.

You get the feeling. You still think New York was a fever dream - even more so now that you’ve lost Jungkook. The thought makes your heart ache in your chest, and it trickles down your body, burning all along the way.

“It’s crazy,” you let out, and it sounds just as flat as you feel - like maybe your heart just flatlined in your chest.

Taehyung makes a non-committal sound, and you’re able to focus on the rest of the game without any interruption. You evidently end up losing to Seokjin and Yoongi, and you shake hands with the boys, congratulating them for their win, even though you’d all expected it.

“I’ll go get something to drink,” Taehyung says when you finally glance his way again. “Stay away from the punch.”

And then he leaves, and you mimic him as he walks away, raising your middle finger to his back. Ria snorts next to you, and you laugh along with her.

“He’s making me want to have some of the punch,” she says, and you laugh harder.

“Hard pass,” Seokjin says, and Ria stiffens next to you. “I tasted it, and it tastes like piss.”

“Wouldn’t even be surprised if someone pissed in it,” Yoongi says. “This party is…”

“Juvenile?” you provide.

Ria laughs, though it sounds a little forced. “It’s fun, stop.”

She sounds just as unconvinced as you think she seems, yet you all don’t mention it, which you reckon happens a lot around her lately.

“I think we’ll head out,” Yoongi says after a few seconds. “Want to have a beer back at my place?”

“And disturb the lovebirds?” Ria answers. “No thank you.”

Indeed, Namjoon and Nabi chose to stay in tonight, and you don’t have to use a lot of brain power to imagine what they might be doing right now, when they finally have full privacy in the apartment.

“Right,” Yoongi lets out. He winces, then shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we’re stuck here for a couple of hours, then.”

He says that in Seokjin’s direction, who runs a hand on his forehead before nodding. “Can we at least go outside?”

“Sure. You girls coming?” Yoongi asks, motioning to the backyard.

Ria doesn’t even wait for you to reply, instead tugging you towards the garden doors. You stop her, glancing over your shoulder. “I actually really have to pee, but I’ll join you guys outside?”

She narrows her gaze in suspicion, and you furrow your brows. She leans in, whispering, “Are you trying to leave me alone with Seokjin?”

You snort. “Not at all,” you reply, patting her hand on your arm. “I genuinely am just about to pee myself. You know how I am with beer.”

She fake-gags, and you playfully push her as she bursts out laughing. “Ayt, we’ll be outside.”

You wave them goodbye, and Seokjin awkwardly waves back before following Yoongi and Ria. You chuckle at the sight before heading to the bathroom, which you think is probably on the second floor.

So you make it towards the staircase you see in the corner, squeezing through the crowd and apologizing all the way, though most people are too drunk to even notice you. You successfully make it to the staircase, and you walk around the group of girls sitting on the steps, making it to the second floor unscathed.

“Bathroom?” a guy who clearly looks like he belongs to the frat asks you.

You almost startle at the unexpected question, though you recover quickly, nodding your head.

“Last door on the left,” he tells you. “I think someone’s in there right now though.”

“Should I not wait then?” you ask.

He chuckles. “From what I saw when I exited it was just one girl alone so, you should be good.”

“Thanks,” you answer, offering him a small smile, and he nods once before heading down the stairs, though he quickly realizes that it might be too big of a feat. He indeed just plops down on the stairs, striking up a conversation with the girls there.

They look like they know him, so you walk away, heading to the last door on the left. You lean against the wall outside, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

No notifications greet you, so you push it back into your pocket, right as the door unlocks, and then opens.

You freeze, just as much as she does. Both of your gazes widening, until she lets out a small, “Hello”, the word heavy with a French accent.

Of course, the girl in the bathroom had to be Gabrielle.

“Hi,” you reply, and you try to smile, though you’re not sure it works.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister, aren’t you?” she asks.

You nod curtly. “The one and only.”

She smiles. “Thought so.” There’s a pause as she doesn’t move from the doorway, and you just wait, awkwardness filling every inch of you.

Her next sentence throws you off the axis you’ve been spinning on for months now, and you just stare at her in disbelief.

“You’re not with Jungkook tonight?” she asks.

You feel hot and cold at the same time, your heart rate picking up uncomfortably in your chest. Your palms turn clammy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if sweat appeared on your temples.

“I’m sorry, what?”

She frowns. “I thought Ari said…” she trails off, and then she shrugs her shoulders. “Whatever.” She smiles gently. “I’m happy he’s got you now.”

You think your eyes are bulging out of your head. They have to - the conversation isn’t making any sense, and you aren’t drunk enough to blame it on the alcohol.

“What?”

Her frown reappears. “Aren’t you two dating now?”

You laugh. It’s a sad, pathetic laugh, and Gabrielle looks at you like you’re crazy.

“He cheated on me with you,” you say. “Why would I be dating him?”

The frown falls, replaced by utter surprise. Her mouth opens on a silent ‘Oh’, like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what to say. It takes her a few seconds to collect herself, and then she says, “Non mais putain qu’il est con.”

You don’t speak French, so all you can do is cock an eyebrow quizzically. And then she lets out a small disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I told him to tell you,” she says, and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose. “But he’s really stupid sometimes.”

“I’m sorry?”

She offers you a small smile bordering on pity, and you brace yourself for what she’ll say next.

“Fille, I’m gay,” she says. “Jungkook was always only pretending to be my boyfriend so my family wouldn’t know. I didn’t know about you when I kissed him in Paris, and I only kissed him because Ari was growing suspicious.”

You think you’re frozen in place. Like, stared into Medusa’s eyes and turned to stone frozen in place. All you can do is stare at Gabrielle, unblinkingly, as her words spin round and round in your head, caught in a dizzying tornado you can’t follow.

“I told him to tell you,” she repeats, and she sounds far too apologetic for the erratic beating of your heart. For the realization that she just hit you with.

You think she hit harder than a physical slap would have.

“What?” you say, voice small and weak and oh so broken.

Months. You’ve been breaking for him for months… and for what? For a promise he refused to break, one that would have explained everything in a way that would have made you work.

You would have forgiven him, no hesitation. Hell, you reckon you would have told him you loved him, would have told him you wanted to be with him from now on until you turn to dust.

But he had to choose to respect a promise he made years ago, to an ex that wasn’t really an ex after all, was she?

Just a friend from high school.

She was, after all, just a friend from high school.

She nods. “Yeah. He told me all about you.” She smiles again, though this time it’s just sad, like she knows just how shattered you are over this man. “I was rooting for you two.”

“He didn’t tell me,” you whisper as if Gabrielle hadn’t already pieced that together. “Why?”

She sighs. “He’s stupid,” she says as an explanation. “He’s the kind that’ll sacrifice himself if it means helping someone else. I suppose you know that already.”

You nod, because you do.

He sacrificed himself for you last semester when you got home crying on Valentine’s Day. And he sacrificed countless parties over his promise to Taehyung to look after you.

And he sacrificed you to protect Gabrielle’s secret.

“Holy shit,” you let out.

“Talk to him,” she says softly. “Go talk to him now. I’m not letting him lose you over me.” She scoffs, the frown she’d sported earlier returning. “I should have realized before. That he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze widens, and you shake your head no. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

It’s not your fault if he broke my heart.

It’s always just been his fault, hasn’t it?

But then again… you know now. You know that he never cheated on you, that he was right when he was saying that it wasn’t what you thought it was.

You know that he was there, with you. That he felt for you what you felt for him, that he was chasing cars around your head, too.

And if there’s a chance you can salvage that, repair two hearts in one stone, you know you have to do it.

“I have to talk to him.” You say the words with quiet conviction, and Gabrielle nods, offering you an encouraging smile. “Fuck.”

“Go to him, fille,” Gabrielle says. “And tell him he’s an enfoiré for me.”

You highly doubt you’d be able to repeat that word, yet you still say, “Will do.”

And then you take off, entirely forgetting that you had to pee. You have one goal in mind, and it’s to run home, where you know he has to be according to what Taehyung said. You don’t even stop to text him, to confirm that he really is.

No, you run down the stairs, through the crowd and outside. The front lawn isn’t as crowded as earlier, and you easily make it to the sidewalk, skidding to a halt just long enough to change direction.

And then you’re running home. Running home to him, your heart beating wildly. For the right reason this time. And as you run, lungs struggling to get enough oxygen in, thighs burning with heat, you feel infinite. You feel like you’re a star in the sky above, or maybe the moon returning to her lover. You feel like a bird soaring high, like a dolphin riding the waves.

You feel young and old and small and big, all at once. Like nothing is ever going to stop you again. You feel in love, you are in love, and after all the months of suffering, you reckon it’s the most beautiful feeling you’ve ever experienced.

You didn’t know you could sprint like you are right now, yet even though your body is straining, you’re not slowing down. You’ve pulled your phone out of your pocket to make sure it doesn’t fall as you run, yet you don’t slow down.

You can’t slow down anymore, not when your gravity finally aligned with his again.

Like it was always meant to be. Because it’s always been meant to be you and him, hasn’t it?

You make it home in a record time, climbing up the stairs… only to realize you don’t have your keys. They are back at the dorms, but it’s too late.

You try the door, and to your surprise, the doorknob turns, and you barge into your home, barge into this life with him.

You catch your breath as you stop in the hall, doubling over when you realize you’ve actually ran - sprinted - for nearly a mile. You’re lucky the frat house wasn’t further away - you highly doubt you would have made it home if it was any further.

“Y/n?” Jungkook says from his bedroom.

You straighten, trying to catch your breath. And the second your eyes land on him, you know it was all worth it.

Every single second of suffering was worth it to be here with him tonight.

“Jungkook,” you say in between two heaving breaths.

He’s shirtless, his honey skin just as warm as you remember it to be. He’s in fact only wearing grey joggers, and his hands are lost in his pockets like he’s trying to look nonchalant.

The concern on his features tells you he, as a matter of fact, isn’t as nonchalant as he’s trying to appear.

“Shit,” you let out. “Jungkook.”

“Yes?”

You laugh. You know you might look crazy, but you literally just ran a mile for this man, and each foot was worth it.

The grandest journey of your life, wasn’t it?

“She told me,” you say.

He cocks an eyebrow. “What?”

“Gabrielle told me everything.” You surprise yourself by blinking away tears, and you let out a small laugh as you go to dry them.

Jungkook remains silent, just staring at you with horror slowly inching into his gaze. You don’t know how, or why, but it only occurs to you then that he might not be alone right now.

“Kook?” you whisper, unable to say it louder.

Not when you’re slowly crashing down from the high.

“Y/n, I…” he trails off. He closes his eyes, head hanging low. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

You gulp as you swallow. “Yeah, huh.”

You look down, noticing a pair of sneakers you’ve never seen before.

It takes all of the courage you can muster up to look back up when the door of the bathroom opens, revealing a dishevelled Lisa, in only a t-shirt you recognize all too well.

You’d used to sleep in that t-shirt, too.

Lisa sees you after you see her, turning beet red. She’s naked under Jungkook’s shirt, or at least you think she is.

You assume she is considering that he’s shirtless too.

“Oh,” you let out.

Choke out might be a more appropriate word. Because you’re crashing, and you’re crashing hard. Hitting the wall at 120 mph, splattering on it until there’s nothing left of you. Nothing left of that hope you’d found at the party, the hope Gabrielle had so kindly gifted you even though she owed you nothing.

Someone’s screaming. You think someone’s screaming - is it just in your head?

“Hey, Y/n,” Lisa says awkwardly. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“I live here,” you reply, voice empty of any emotion.

She purses her lips, nodding once, and then she hesitantly walks out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry I… I didn’t know you’d be here tonight.”

Neither did you. Neither did Jungkook - it would have saved everyone a whole lot of breaking if you’d known.

If you’d known that having hope for Jeon Jungkook was futile and useless.

How could you even think you were meant to be with him? There is no universe for you and him out there. Just different worlds of breaking. Because it’s all your soul knows how to do - all your soul knows is to break for him, to shatter and crash and fracture for the man standing in front of his opened bedroom door.

“No worries,” you say, though this time your voice does wobble.

This time, the pain does colour your tone in heartbreak blue.

Jungkook just remains silent, like he’s suddenly gone mute. You think it’s better like this - if he were to say anything right now, you think you’d likely break down here. Instead, you take a deep breath, pat your pockets and say, “I think I forgot my keys at the party.”

Unable to help yourself, you glance towards Jungkook once. He meets your gaze - he looks infinitely pained, the heartbreak stark on his features too. There’s some reassurance in knowing that he’s breaking, too. That you’re doing it together.

Heartbreak isn’t as lonely when you’re doing it together.

“How did you…” Lisa trails off, but she doesn’t finish.

She falls silent, clearly hearing the screaming in your head too.

You’re outside a second later, carefully closing the door behind you. Carefully severing the rest of your relationship with Jungkook, until all that is left is the memories.

You take a step back, looking at the door, thinking he might open, might come see you.

Thinking he might be your home after all.

But he doesn’t, the door staying stubbornly closed. You get the message - your souls were never meant to merge. The songs that you thought were about him, about you, about the two of you together, they were never about you. You were never meant to lie down and forget the world with him.

Or maybe you were, but it came with an expiration date.

You reckon you and Jungkook have always had an expiration date. You just forgot tonight, became blind to it thanks to false, treacherous hope. And so you leave, walking down the stairs as you blink away the tears that are clinging to your waterline.

You embrace the heartbreak, let it sweep through you until you think it’s all you’ve ever known. And like a true companion, the heartbreak carries your steps through the night.

Prev | Chapter 13.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

do I feel bad for the amount of angst I wrote into this story? Maybe a little. I promise one day things will get better for these two, but in the meantime, what did you guys think?

#chasing cars ch 13 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

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yorsgirl · 8 months ago

Text

In His Arms

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Synopsis: Why should you look for another place to die when you have his arms around you?

Tropes: Angst, major character death

Warnings: Canon Timeline, gn!reader, angst, unhappy ending, non-explicit violence.

Word count: 2.03k

You never liked the sun all that much.

It was always too bright, too warm…always just too much. Even then, the scorching heat did nothing but increase your irritation as you laid sprawled out on the open grass field. Your body felt abnormally paralyzed, heart beating right in your ear; drowning out all the noises of the disaster happening around you.

You don’t remember how you got there.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember anything that happened in the past hour. But you laid there - on the lush green field while the sun burnt your skin, lungs constricting with every breath you took.

You were tired. Exhausted even. Wishing nothing but to fall into a deep slumber. But you can’t. Not in this filthy field (what if some insect crawls up your ear), not when the sun burns so hot (ugh, so annoying), not when your thumping, loud heartbeat almost scared you.

The wish was thrown out of the window when you felt something trickle down the side of your eye. Warm. Assuming it's sweat, you groggily moved your hand to wipe it away. Your eyes drift off to your palm – thick, warm liquid stained it red.

Blood.

For a second, you gazed at it with curiosity.

The next, everything hits you like a bullet to the gut.

The expedition, the unfruitful sighting of two abnormals near your flank, comrades that were trampled or ripped apart by the titans and at last…when it held you in its grasp; ready to chew onto your flesh.

You still didn’t remember, what happened to the accused titan that dared to make you its snack. You groaned but it came out as blood spitting coughs, as you tried to roll over – failed. Everything was still a blur.

Your solitude was cut short when you heard a thud. A figure dropped beside you.

Tufts of Jet black hair and a pair of steel blue eyes hovered through your hazy vision.

“Levi...” Voice strained yet you were able to say his name, without coughing up blood.

The said man kneeled, picking you up in his arms, your head laid on the crook of his elbow and forearm. He gently wiped away the blood aside your eyes and forehead, his touch – like a petal falling on water; almost soothing your aching body.

“I am here,” He assured you, his eyes focused on your face. He didn’t dare look down your body. The sight, even too terrifying for him.

Your right leg was missing from the knee down, the gash running through your abdomen – too deep. The blood loss was significant; staining the grass around red.

In any normal circumstance, he could carry you effortlessly. But this very day, his arms felt weak while supporting just your upper body weight, fingers trembling as he brushed off your hair.

It was minutes ago when Levi reached near the vicinity of your flank (or what once was) after being informed by a fellow soldiers that two aberrants were sighted there. He remembered the moment, the titan’s hand wrapped around your abdomen, as it held one of your limbs in its mouth, the shrieks of horror combined with pain that escaped your lips; enough to break the barriers of his rage.

For a moment, he was pushed back into the utter depths of his memory. A similar expedition, like this one… with a similar scenario where an aberrant took away the lives of his then, only family.

It couldn’t happen again. He couldn’t lose you too…

He just couldn’t.

Seconds, in literal seconds did he disintegrate those titans, their remains were nothing but blobs of flesh accompanied by the blood. The titan- or rather titans, which dared to grasp you; their corpses no- more like what was left of their corpses were left around the bloodied field, steaming into air.

It was painful.

For both of you.

He couldn’t conjure the courage to look down on your injured body, the realization that you wouldn’t make it – too difficult to be accepted. Instead he just stayed silent, as you tried to breathe, all while your chest burned.

“Levi… wh-” You were caught in a coughing fit, spitting blood out of your mouth.

“Easy, don’t talk.” His voice reaches your ears, he gingerly wipes away the blood from your chin. “I am here…” He repeats. You are going to be okay, he wants to tell you that you’d be alright. But he knows the inevitable and he knows you do too.

So the words died down.

Weakly raising your hand to cup his cheek, feeling his skin on yours; one last time. As your trembling fingertips trailed over his cheekbone, his rough hand held yours atop, running the pad of his thumb across the creases of your palm.

Oh… how much you wished for time to stop now.

To let you be like this. In his arms. Just where you were meant to be.

“I am going to die, aren’t I?”

The cursed words lolls off your lips so easily. And Levi just wishes, why does he have to bear this torment?

It’s a question you’ve asked him previously too. A lot of times to say the least. It was annoying, he had thought those times. Shushing you down with the usual - you still have time.

That time is up.

“I told you to not speak.” He rebuked harshly.

But why does this harsh attitude seems to arise from a place of tenderness?

“No,” You state with conviction even though your tone quivered. “You know it too.” You noticed the tighter grip on your hand as well as the stiffening of his body. You were right, he knows it too.

Levi knows he’s in amidst titan territory, he knows letting down his guard is the worst option but… he can’t leave you there. The regret of not staying with you now, would be greater than any regret that he might feel later.

So, he sat down properly, cradling your head on his lap. He stared right into your eyes, memorizing the colour and how the sunlight reflects on them. He gazed down at your lips, memorizing the way it curled as you speak.

The fluttering of your eyelids does not go unnoticed. He tracd his finger down to the pulse point on your wrist. The rhythm eerily slow.

You held his gaze, focusing on his features through the blur. And even if you don’t like the sun, you can’t help but love how the periphery of his face glowed under its light. You etched the feeling of his touch to your mind.

There are so many words you wanted to say to him, so many sentiments whirling inside you which you wished to let him know.

But you don’t. The declarations too long and time too short.

Even then, in that moment you know he has his tongue tied too. The words left on the tip of his lips, never voiced out.

A silence befell you both, as if pushing you into a trance of your own. A place where these titans don’t exist, the complexities of this ongoing war vanished. Leaving you both at each other’s mercy.

The pain that surged through both of you, for a second stops. Converting into something warm…

You lived in that intimate moment with him. When words fell short, but the thread tying his soul to yours remained strong.

After a short while, a noise erupted from you. Instead of cries of pain or anguish, you let out a chuckle. Causing Levi to give you a look, questioning himself if you had gone insane.

“Ah- looks like I will be leaving before y-you,” You chuckled again, as it was followed by a painful cough.

His eyes narrowed, lips twisting into a frown, “And you are laughing?”

“Would be able to re-rest finally.” Your lips stretch in a grin. “It’s tiring to tr-train under you… every day.”

There’s a reason he found you annoying.

The corners of his lip twitched as he wondered would it be the right time to smack your head and talk some sense into you. But he refrained, just glaring at you. The glare isn’t filled with rage, rather undertones of despair.

“It’s tiring… to train under me?”

“uh huh,” You would have nodded but movement seemed challenging too. He almost wants to flick your forehead for making a joke out of this situation. But that’s just who you were. One of the many reasons he fell for you.

He understood your playfulness. A way to divert his mind. He had sworn to not regret anything but there are times. Times when he can’t help but do so. It were one of the rare times. And you just happened to be the antidote in this predicament.

Humorous, it was. You were standing on the edge of life, still it were you comforting him.

He pondered on what he did to deserve you.

The grin stayed on your lips quickly followed by another coughing fit.

Levi gently rubbed your back and shoulders – his touch again easing the pain that coursing through your ripped abdomen.

“Levi…” You call his name again, the word falling off your lips so sweetly.

Oh, how much, he wished that he’d get to hear it again and again.

His eyes flicker to your face again, even though that blood dripped down the side of your face and your eyes half-lidded; he can’t help but still find you beautiful.

As beautiful as always.

“I’m listening.”

You smile, breathing heavily, eyelids drooping down as you force them to stay open. “O-oh nothing... just wanted to say your name.”

He gulps down the lump forming in his throat, wondering how easily you had always understood him. Through the silent nights you spent on the rooftops or when he completed his paperworks as you prepared him tea.

“But if I had to ask for something… hey… Levi,” You whined with a frown. You assumed he wasn’t listening. But he was listening.

Always listening.

“What?” The heaviness in his voice was evident, he was holding back from crumbling down. His eyes drooped down, the grimace on his lips; an expression you knew all too well.

You breathed in sharply as the smile remained, “Watch it… till the end, for me.”

His eyes flickered with something for a second, before he blinked. Once. Twice. The pad of his thumb running circles on your cheek.

With the tightness in his chest, he nodded, “I will.” The same grin from earlier gets plastered on your face again. That assurance was enough for you.

For, if you can’t see the outside world, to taste freedom in its true form. You at least want him to watch it for you, to live in it for you.

Your chest burned again, the blood loss taking a toll on you as your head felt awfully light. Levi noticed it too along with the coldness of your body, as the pulse rate has almost diminished.

“I am sleepy,” Your voice being a mere whisper.

He knew and you did too.

The time has come.

“Sleep,” He replied, “You’ve fought for long, rest easy now. I’ll be here.”

He gingerly caressed your face once again, his steel grey eyes fixated on yours as if there’s no tomorrow, thumb tracing the outline of your lips.

“And when you wake up…” He gazed at you with so much longing and affection. “I will find you again.”

Your lips cracked into one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen. A smile he locked into his memory. With a slight nod of your head, your eyelids closed.

You breathed out once. Then never.

Levi stayed there, holding you tight for as long as he could remember.

As the despicable sun shone on the unlucky lovers, a little too brightly and the noises from the catastrophe elsewhere started to sync in. The grassfield was still as bloody and filthy.

You passed away, in the place you loathed. But didn’t, in your last moments.

Through unsaid words and silent promises, you took your last breath. But it was alright. Cause you were where you were meant to be.

You were in his arms.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman angst #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #levi aot #levi angst #levi x you #levi x y/n #snk x reader #captain levi #ackerman #levi heichou #attack on titan #levi fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin

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minhosimthings · 5 months ago

Text

The Fallen One || 18+

Synopsis: For the final day of the pact, you find yourself intoxicated by the man you've yearned for, forever.

Pairings: detective!Jay × fem!reader

Warnings: smut minors Dni, fingering, cock riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex (not for you), reader has like three orgasms?, Jay's just really obsessed, Fluffy in the end, swearing, mention of food and alcohol, final fuck you to Heeseung yay

A/N: I haven't been able to carry out with my og plot in this fic because I, like an idiot, forgot I included bondage and i just wrote everything and now I neither have the heart nor the energy to write anything else, so to all my babies who wanted bondage, there's a fic in my wips for y'all. Anywho I had fun working on this series! Thank you for all the support that got me through writing everything and I hope next time my brain remembers to write WHAT WAS INTENDED IN THE FIRST PLACE-

Series Masterlist

Jay's calloused fingers nudged a mauve hued record back into its place, near and tidy on an oak shelf slightly shorter than him. His eyes travelled to another section of the shelf, where his hands picked up an olive green record, silently sitting at the back, overshadowed by the bright blues that surrounded it.

His mouth stretched into a thin quiet smile as he gently took the vinyl out, admiring its sleek look in the faint light of his bedroom, before he set it to it's position on his record player. Picking up his glass of dark red wine, Jay toyed with the sharp needle of the nostalgia emitting record player, before setting it onto the spinning vinyl.

The sound of stiff bones cracking was heard as he plopped down on his armchair near the warm fireplace, wine in hand, with hypnotising music playing in the background. Sipping his wine, he stared at the fire place, watching as every flame danced to the music, some did the tango, while some did the ballet.

Don't think about her, he thought to himself, anything but her.

Jay sighed heavily to himself as he twirled the last remnants of the wine in his glass, he had no idea how fast he had drunk it. He could hear rain pattering away mercilessly outside whilst the hours ticked away as he waited for tomorrow to come and whisk him away.

The second sigh of the evening dropped seethingly from his mouth as his eyes fluttered over to the picture frames on the wall. He smiled as he ran his eyes over the memories of old, forever remembered in hues and colours, lest they ever leave his mind.

A picture of him and his parents stood proud next to a ridiculous picture of him, Sunghoon and Jake standing next to a lake. He laughed as he recalled how they had fell into the murky water that day, pushing each other in, until everything ended in dirty clothes and raucous laughter. Another picture stood rather drab next to the bright coloured photos of Jay with his boss, recieving an award. The picture was dusty, as if it has been avoided by Jay when he was cleaning it.

Jay's eyes paused at the dust spiders on the picture and he walked near it, peering to see the picture that was held inside the carved frame.

Him, a woman and Heeseung, with smiles imprinted on your faces, against a backdrop of what looked like a school building. Jay gently took the picture of of the wall, it slid easily off the wallpaper, and set it down on the table. If anyone had asked him later on for how long he had stared at it with confused thoughts, he'd have responded with a confused look.

If only she had chosen me, he thought, if only....

The third exhausted sigh came as Jay realised he should probably sleeping, glancing at the clock to notice that it was 3 am in the morning already. He'd only get a few hours of sleep, but something was better was nothing, and for him, three hours of sleep was more than enough. And if it was on his beloved armchair next to a cozy fire? He might as well have announced Christmas dinner.

Jay plopped onto his armchair once more, now folding up his legs to snuggle into the seat, all warm next to the crackling fire, with the sound of rain making him drift off to sleep.

He made sure, by whatever ill will, to glance at the dusty picture he set on the table once more, peer at the intoxicating smile of the woman, and the man next to her, his arm wrapped around her waist protectively. Jay thought his face looked rather sour in the picture, the memories of it were even sourer but dawn was no time to think of them.

And so he went off to sleep at last, fighting off troubled thoughts and an uneasy heart.

If only she had chosen me.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

"Where did you say Y/N was staying again?" Sunghoon looked up from his pile of paperwork to answer the questioning voice.

"Baker's Street." He answered in his usual condescending voice, "Why do you ask?"

Jay shrugged in response to his friend's question, quickly pretending to be interested in his own pile of paperwork, though Sunghoon was quick to notice the tiny smile dancing on his lips. "Jongsoeng don't tell me you're going to do anything stupid."

"You're telling that to me?" Jay laughed, which came out more like a scoff, "I'll be fine."

"Don't buy her cake like I did." Jake commented from the other side, a pen stuck behind his ear, "Unless you want Mr Fuck Up over there to intervene." He lowered his voice with the last words, glaring towards Heeseung, who was working on the other side of the office.

Jay hadn't exactly been careful all day around Heeseung, treating him normally, though he did make sure to amplify his voice when speaking your name. Such as now, when he had asked Sunghoon where you were staying. He had no intention to make Heeseung jealous or anything. No, he had a firm desire to make Heeseung jealous and angry.

"Jay can I talk to you for a second?"

Speak of the devil.

Jay looked up from his paperwork (quick to change his expression from annoyed to normal) to see Heeseung staring at him with a weird look.

"I need to talk to you." Heeseung repeated, causing Jay to internally cringe. "What about?" Jay asked, to which Heeseung looked around before grabbing Jay's arms and dragging him (against his will) to the empty break room.

"I need to talk about—" Heeseung paused, taking a breath, "—about Y/N."

"What about her?" Jay asked, voice remaining calm, though his knuckles were certainly gripping the edge of the table he leant on, very tightly, "She's doing well, if you wanted to ask."

"Jay come on." Heeseung sighed, "I know about this little pact between you guys and Y/N and–" he fiddled with his fingers, "I know I've had some downs, but I really need to apologise to Y/N. I've ditched Yeo-Hee anyway, and–" he chuckled, "–can we not let bygones be bygones?"

"Bygones be bygones?" Jay let out a cold laugh, the expression on his face was terrifying and though Heeseung wouldn't have admitted it, he was scared, "Since when have you been using that phrase? Since high school I reckon?" Jay laughed again, "Ahh fuck I don't even understand why she even kept up with your cheating ass for so long. Tell me Heeseung," he leaned forward to look Heeseung menacingly in the eye, "Did you ever really love her?"

"Love her?" Heeseung responded, "Of course I love her, she's my wif-"

"Then will you tell her about Ji-ah from the other section or should I?"

"You wouldn't." Heeseung stared Jay down, though he was taller and older than him, he felt as if a hurricane was interrogating him, "Jay you can't. You know she'll never forgive me."

"She shouldn't." Jay laced his words with venom, "She should never forgive a fucking bastard like you."

"Ok fine." Heeseung sighed, "Can you atleast tell her I'm sorry?"

"Tell her yourself, coward." Jay quipped, which perhaps was a mistake, when he looked at Heeseung's angry expression.

"Coward?" Heeseung laughed, "Wouldn't that be more fitting for you, Jongsoeng?" He stepped forward, "If you hadn't been a coward with poor heartbroken 16 year old Y/N, we probably wouldn't be here and I'd be thankful I hadn't ever dated that bitch."

Heeseung couldn't comprehend what has happened in the next few moments. All he could recall if you had asked him now what happened, was a loud thud, his back against a wall, Jay's cat like eyes becoming deadly and Jake and Sunghoon's shocked faces.

"Don't you call her that, you insipid jackass." Jay snarled at the older man, with his hands gripping the collar of Heeseung's shirt tightly, whilst pressing him to the wall, "Don't you ever call her anything less than what you fucking are. A coward, and a cheat." Jay released his grip on Heeseung's shirt with a guffaw, before stepping out of the room, leaving behind an air of tension and fear.

|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|

Your eyes scanned the room nervously, as you eased into the maroon hued armchair. The anxiety you held within you at the moment, was easily captured by the way you were fiddling with your fingers and biting your bottom lip until you tasted iron in your mouth.

It's just Jay, you reminded yourself, the man you've had a crush on since forever, it's just him.

"Keep biting that lip of yours and you're going to lose it." Jay chuckled, walking in with mugs of tea in his hand, "Still haven't lost that habit have you doll?"

"Well with you no longer there to remind me–" you graciously accepted the mug, noting carefully how his fingers brushed against yours, "–its become an addiction."

"Well, I'll make sure to write to you everyday not to bite your lip." He joked, making you laugh. God he looked heavenly, you thought, figure clad in his loose white button up, the one he wore to work, combined with a blue trouser which framed his thighs perfectly.

"You-you look good." You said, in a timid fashion, making Jay look up from his mug and smile at you.

"As do you, doll." He grinned. The cocoons in your stomach erupted into a thousand butterflies at the nickname. It was what he used to call you in high school, mainly to tease you, and partly (or rather secretly) to compliment your beauty.

"Heeseung asked me to apologise to you." Jay chuckled coldly, interrupting your train of thoughts, "Bastard came up to me at work and just bombarded me with requests." He looked up at you before continuing, "He wants you to know that he's broken up with the other girl, Yeo-Hee or whoever."

"Oh." You responded, not exactly knowing what a good response would be, "Well—good, I guess." You said, not adding anything until a few minutes of silence passed, "Does the idiot really think he can get me back with a simple apology?"

"He does." Jay set his mug down on the table, easing into his chair, "If it were me, I'd have written a thousand pages of poetry for you."

"You wouldn't have ever done what he did."

"Wouldn't I?" Jay's eyes perked up at you, shadowed with a kind of darkness you've never seen before.

"No you wouldn't." You responded, "I know you wouldn't, you're too...perfect for that."

"Perfect?" Jay laughed mockingly, "Y/N if I were perfect, we wouldn't be in this situation–" he didn't know where his words were coming from, "–and you'd have never married that fucker!"

Jay's sudden amplified voice made you flinch, you had heard that voice on only one occasion before and it was not a pretty thing to hear at all.

"Jay....."

"I'm sorry." Jay sighed, running his hand through his hair, "This is a mistake–I'll drop you off at home if you don't want this anymore-"

"Oh my God, you're an idiot." You said, stopping Jay's rambling and causing him to look up at you with confused eyes, "Do you really think I'll skip this just because you raised your voice?"

"No I meant–" Jay sighed again, getting up from his armchair suddenly and packing around the room, a habit he had from childhood, "–I know things aren't really sunshine and rainbows between us, and you probably don't feel comfy fucking someone who's been with you since high school so–fuck I'm rambling." He mumbled the last part under his breath, taking a deep breath, before continuing, "Y/N, what I want to say is–I'm sorry." He looked at you again, "I'm sorry for not being good enough for you, but please–" he knelt down in front of you, so you could be at eye level, "–forgive me, if you still can."

"Oh my god you idiotic dunce." You laughed at him, causing his expression to change to one of confusion.

Jay didn't have time to register what happened next, the only feeling his mind knew was the touch of your soft, familiar lips on his, the mere atoms that existed between you, now faded away as you ravaged each other, each attempt to get closer, an attempt of love and confusion.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

"Fuck it." He finally said, grabbing your face with his hands and pulling you towards him for yet another kiss.

He kissed you like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled your flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup your face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have you closer. Jay opened his mouth, causing you to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your mouth moved with his as if it was known to you; As if this was a dance you had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of your lips was a song that Jay had mastered just for you.

"Jay I-" you hesitated for a moment, what if he didn't say it back?, "I love you." His eyes—the color of an intoxicating champagne—beckoned you over with nothing more than a tired smile.

"Oh sweetheart," Jay's hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to hear that."

His mouth hesitantly chased yours until you brushed your fingers through his hair and pulled him towards you, finally connecting your lips again. His touch was gentle, almost like he wanted to be careful with you. Yet, you wanted to breathe him in—lustfully addicted to the taste of his lips.

His palms laid flat against the curvature of your back whilst your hands grabbed at his collar, pulling him flush against you—the throbbing between your legs did anything but lessen with the close proximity.

Jay had never before tasted something sweeter; your saccharine lips fit so perfectly against his—he was convinced that they were made for him to kiss and caress. His cock stirred in his pants for he could only wonder how divine your cunt would taste on his tongue. Jay needed it all. he trailed his fingers up your front, pinning the fabric of his shirt over your tits. His fingertips dance across your skin as he detached his lips from yours.

"Wait Y/N–" Jay pulled away, leaving you chasing after him, "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," You breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips, "Fuck yes I want this."

Jay needed no more words from you as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, as you kissed him back, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Wait a minute love." Jay mumbled into your ear. Slipping his arms beneath you, he lifted you into his arms, his hands squeezing your ass as you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms round his neck for support. Jay led you to the adjacent room, presumably his bedroom, setting you down with care on his bed.

As soon as you were settled on the mattress, Jay's senses ravaged on you. His hands grabbed your face, pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You could taste the bitterness in his mouth, perhaps from an afternoon shot of bourbon, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your senses. Jay's hands moved down your body, tracing the curves of your hips as he pulled you closer. As Jay's hands continued to explore your body, you couldn't help but sigh. "fuck Jay."

"Shh doll." Jay shushed you, "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Your clothes quickly fell to a pile on the floor, and Jay's lips found your neck, leaving a trail of sweet but rough kisses. His touch was urgent and passionate, a release of the pent-up energy that had been building up all day.

Soon, he was pushing your underwear to the side, revealing your slick folds to him. The warm atmosphere of the room kissed your cunt with a breeze, eliciting a shallow gasp from you.

"Wet for me already, doll?" Jay smirked, his eyes travelling up and down your body, as if he was a saint worshiping his patron goddess. His low chuckle vibrated throughout your entire being, sending you into that same state you were in when you drank the aphrodisiac at Sunghoon's house. It was pathetic on your part that Jay had managed to get you like this without so much as sticking his fingers in you.

"Jay stop teasing-“ the words die on your tongue and you gasp for air, fingers pulling at his soft locks as he prods his fingers at your entrance. Your cunt sucked him in with ease—his long fingers fucking deep into your pussy. Your hand swiftly gripped the edge of the bedsheet until he placed his hand over yours—gently intertwining your fingers while you arch your back in pleasure.

Jay leaves one final kiss to your lips before leaning back and forcing your knee down with his left hand. He was locked in a trance, watching the way your pussy would gush every time his fingers would pump inside of you. His fingers rapidly disappeared past your folds as you cried out.

Your hands frailly clawed at his wrist, only to be swatted away while he kept his pace—eyes trained on your precious cunt.

With parted lips, you brought your gaze down to glance his fingers as they were buried knuckle-deep inside of you, you couldn’t even hint for him to stop, not that you wanted him to anyway. How could you? With the way he was beginning to curl his fingers forward, pushing against your slick walls, it was nearly impossible to push him away. The feeling alone forced a chain of whimpers from your mouth, only encouraging him to do more.

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, pushing and pulling them out of you with a growing sense of urgency. Eventually, he was leaning down to connect his lips with your nipple before beginning to suck on the sensitive bud with haste.

"Jay—ahhh." You draw out a raspy moan, feeling his tongue circle around your nipple, "Jay I—"

But before you could even finish your sentence, your larynx was screaming out his name like it was gospel, as you came messily all over his fingers. Jay smirked, as he gazed at your beautiful, fucked out face, his dick positively bursting from how much he wanted to absolutely ruin you.

"Eyes on me, doll." Jay commanded, you moved your pupils to face him. He looked absolutely breathtaking, towering above you. You winced as his fingers dug deep into your waist, he lifted you up with ease and propped you on top of him. Your positions were now switched, and you had no idea what to do.

"Go ahead and take my pants off." He told you. You happily obliged, your fingers were practically scrambling to unzip his pants, as you tore them off of his legs, revealing the cause of his earlier bulge. You hum at the sight of his cock, licking your lips as you swipe a thumb over the angry red tip, spreading a bead of precum over it, causing Jay to let out an almost inaudible moan.

"Now—" Jay sighed, hard enough from the feeling of your fingers on his length, "Be a good girl and ride my cock."

Your eyes widened at his words. You were delighted, of course, at the mere prospect of having his dick to yourself. Unfortunately for you, you had no idea how to tell him you didn't know how to do what he wanted you to do.

"I can't." You mumbled underneath your breath, causing Jay to chuckle.

"Speak up sweetheart, I can't hear you."

"I don't know to do it!" You said, more agressively than you had intended to say it. But Jay just laughed again, this time it was more of a mocking one than amused.

"Oh sweetheart." He extended a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek, his hand was warmer than your face so you melted into his touch, "Want me to help you?"

You did nothing but simply nod, feeling slightly ashamed and slightly insecure about the fact that your brain was telling you, you've disappointed him.

"What's going on in that brain of yours hmm?" Jay grabbed your hips pulling you down onto his stomach, "Scared, doll?"

"No—no!" You panicked, "It's just that—what if I don't...do it correct?"

"Doll, do you really think I'd be mad at that?" Jay raised a brow at you, which quickly turned into a expression of concern, "Did Heeseung ever do that to you?"

"Sometimes." You mumbled underneath your breath, "He'd get mad at me if I didn't know."

"Fucking bastard." Jay said, his hands gripped your hips tighter, as his eyes wandered all over your body. He couldn't bring himself to even comprehend how Heeseung could have behaved like that with you.

"I-I do know some things." You started, adjusting your body on Jay's stomach, "I know how to—" you paused, "—get on."

You felt your cheeks heat up rapidly as you internally slapped your forehead. Jay chuckled at your embarrassed expression, hands still digging into your hip.

"Alright then." Jay said, freeing his hands from your body, "Go on."

Sighing, Jay lies back down, hips going still. You shift yourself so that your pussy is lined up with his cock, using a hand to brush the tip against your folds, never going further than that. Jay lets out a whimper at the teasing sensation.

"Fuck doll—don't tease..." Jay sighs in pleasure, as you lift yourself up, hands on either of his shoulders. Both of you let out a collective, satisfied moan as you slowly sink down on his length, feeling it stretch open your cunt slow and steady. Jay groaned again as you gripped him tighter to balance yourself. His hands found their way back to your hips.

"shhh." Jay's big hands continued to roam around your body, one landing on the small of your back and the other massaging and cupping your tits. He used his hand on your back to push you down further.

"breathe, love, i'll help you." when you finally sank all the way down onto his cock, when Jay was finally buried balls-deep in your pretty little pussy, it felt so amazing because you were so so full.

No one had ever been so deep inside you. His cock was kissing your cervix, and it had your pussy clenching down on him so tightly that you thought it might be a little hard to move.

“Fuck.” You lift your hips, and slowly ease yourself down again. Lustful whimpers and moans escaped you as you slowly repeated your motions, feeling almost dizzy at the way his big cock was stretching you out. His dick felt so fucking good; hot and throbbing and aching to burst inside you.

Throwing whatever scrap of inhibition you have left, you raise your lower body before roughly slamming your ass back down. The harsh movement makes you cry out in pleasure. You start to move eagerly, not holding back any of your movements.

Once you got started, you couldn't stop the rhythm — up and down up and down up and down — until your vision began to blur from how fucking good it felt. His cock hits deep inside you, stretching out your tight little hole with every bounce.

Jay's view from below you was incredible. tits bouncing, head flung back, and moans pornographic — it was all enough to drive a man mad. he couldn't keep his hands off of you. whether they were gripping at your thighs to keep you warm on his dick, or gripping and pinching at your nipples, or running them over your back hard enough to leave scratch marks, they were constantly in motion — worshipping your beautiful body.

"You're so—fuck—pretty." Jay cooed at you, ignoring the sharp pain on his shoulders with how you were digging your nails into his skin, "be a good doll for me now."

You were straddling him, your head thrown back with both hands on his shoulders as you tried to keep a quick pace. He had his hands pressed deep into your hips, helping you move in a fluid motion. You felt him hit your sweet spot every time you made your way down, letting out tiny whimpers at the feeling.

"Fuck doll—" Jay moaned, he was loving the way you were using him for you own pleasure, "G-Good girl, you're a good girl for me aren't you?"

You couldn’t hold in the loud moan you had been holding in for a long time, feeling your stomach flutter at his words. You felt a slight burning in your thighs and you knew Jay's shoulders held tiny crescent shapes from how tight your grip had become. You felt one of Jay's hands move to your clit, rubbing small circles on the bundle of nerves.

A pathetic whimper escaped your lips as you felt a familiar fire burn in your core, edging ever closer as you drove yourself to the end of the tunnel. It didn't help that Jay perked his hips up, practically slamming his tip into the deepest crevices of your pussy and driving you insane as you finally came down.

Your moans grow louder, echoing on the walls as you feel the impending climax. "I'm cumming! Oh god, don't stop!" Each word is punctuated by a sharp intake of breath and a quivering sensation throughout your body. Your pussy gripped tightly around him, milking his cock with every thrust. Your legs tremble and your body shivers, wracked with pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you. "Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Gazing at your drunken being, Jay took the opportunity to harshly grab your hips, and bring you down underneath him. Your back hit the mattress roughly, as you felt nothing but his cum still in your walls.

You were awoken out of your cock-drunk stupor by the harmonious taste of Jay's lips, as he kissed you, his hands circling your breasts

His neck muscles strained as he deepened the kiss. You broke the kiss as you looked down at him, your breathing uneven. The low lighting making him look absolutely ravishing. Freshly kissed lips made them redder as his eyes droopy from the lust behind them, looking at you.

"Jay please..." You trailed off, feeling exhausted from the expert riding lesson.

"Please what doll?" Jay chuckles into your neck, his tip teasing your labia. "Jay–need—your cock." You throat out. The room felt like it was spinning at a fast rate as Jay chuckled again. His cologne was like poison to you, wrapping you in tight corridors of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're such a dumb doll for me aren't you?” he prompts, moving closer. He spits into his hand, pumping the moisture over his cock before positioning himself above you. You whimper as his tip touches your labia, he wasn't giving you what you wanted anytime soon, and you were getting impatient.

"Jay—" you say his name like a prayer your tongue had memorised, "—Jay, please..."

"Dumb fucking doll." Jay muttered under his breath, gripping your chin with his two fingers. He went in for a filthy, messy kiss, before you were cry out, the feeling of him pushing into you driving you mad.

Taking his dick between one hand, Jay slapped your ass in the other as he rubbed out the red imprint beginning to spread beneath his fingers. You vulnerably flinched at the feeling, letting a low moan out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

Rubbing his sensitive tip against your pussy, he hissed through his teeth at the feeling before lining himself up with your entrance. Holding your hips in his hands, he gripped his fingers on your skin as he pushed himself inside of you between your folds, equally pulling your hips back on his cock, your warmth instantly wrapping around him as your lips parted at the feeling, letting a moan out into the bed.

Waves of pleasure accompany the sting of the stretch, and your eyes flutter as he rocks slowly into you. He’s watching the way his cock splits you open, low grunts coming from deep in his chest. He shifts, one hand pressing on your lower stomach, thumb swirling over your clit. you cry out, head falling back onto the pillows. The other hand lifts one of your legs, pushing it towards your chest.

"Jay–ah-ahh" You moaned loudly, holding onto his biceps and burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand slid in between your bodies, reaching down to your clit and rubbing rough circles, increasing the immense amount of pleasure you were experiencing.

Jay’s thrusting became faster, harder, like a man starved. His grasp on your chin returned to your hips. As Jay rolled back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brought your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. You look beautiful like this, he thought.

Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin, he had been a fool not to have claimed you as his before. His wife, he thought, his and his only. "Ohh fuck!" You whined, feeling Jay's cock drill into you, hitting that perfect spot in your tight cunt. You were powerless underneath him, his balls slapping against your pussy with each thrust, his hands snaking around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist as he pounded into you. He groaned in pleasure, leaning down and softly nibbling your earlobe,

"god, you're fucking amazing." His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he picked up the pace, his cock slamming into you with increasing intensity. He was merciless, taking what he wanted, dominating your body perfectly.

Jay's fingers dig deeper into my skin as he pounds into you, his dick was slamming against your most sensitive spot with every thrust. His hands slide up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls my head back

"you're gonna look so pretty when you're all full of me, doll," he moans out and grabs your hips tightly with his rough hands, holding you in place as he slams into you.

Jay's hand slides from your hip to your clit, his fingers rubbing against it in slow, deliberate circles. You moan, your body trembling beneath him as he continues to thrust into you, his thick cock filling you completely.

His fingers move faster, his touch becoming more insistent as he rubs your clit, his movements matching the rhythm of his hips.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with every touch, every thrust. Jay's breath is hot against your ear, his voice husky with desire as he whispers sweet nothings against your skin.

You came hard and threw your eyes back, twisting your body and separating yourself from Jay's mouth in a desperate search for air. His chest was heaving, his skin was flushed and sweaty, your sex was still eagerly sucking the other's length that kept burying itself to the bottom in you, and then leaving and entering again as if it were predestined for that.

"Fuck, you're so hot." Jay moaned loudly, as he felt your pussy suffocate his length, "Fuck—you want my cum sweetheart?"

"Jay—oh fuck!" You gasped loudly, "N-Need your cum–please."

Jay groaned, you saw his Adam's apple protrude in his throat and you gasped, feeling him move slightly in your pussy.

"that's it doll, cum for me, fuck—just like that." He drawled out in a lazy whisper.

Jay rested his forehead on your collarbone and let out several low moans before cumming inside you. After recovering from the orgasm, he stood up again between your legs with a sigh, looked at your union dripping with fluids and came out of you, putting the semen that flowed from your entrance back inside with his fingers, making sure that everything stayed trapped inside you.

A painful emptiness was left in you when Jay slowly pulled out, with a train of curses escaping from his mouth, as he lay down next to you. You both lay in silence, with the only sound being the sound of your laboured breathing.

"So—" Jay broke the silence, "—what now?"

"What now?" You asked the same question back, with a slight chuckle as Jay smiled at you, "Do you want to get up or do you want to stay here for some more time?"

"I'd prefer the latter." He answered, scooting himself closer to you, "Unless you want to take a bath?"

You hummed in response, taking the invite to wrap yourself in his arms. Evidently, neither of you were interested in leaving the bedroom.

"Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too doll."

Taglist: @diorsyun @jaeyunluvr @hoondrop @mxxninthesky @alvojake @wondipity @blurryriki @lilyuwon @heeliopheelia @pshazez @heeslomll @seunghancore @shiningnono @deobitifull @luvitria @nyfwyeonjun @hwa-0403 @bubblegyu00 @sunpov @heeheeswifey @chartrucewhore @slut4hee @heesangs-blog @rikiwaify-blog @hirablackcat @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @kirinaa08 @heeshlove @seokseokjinkim @brownsugarbaybee @yzzyhee @anittamaxwynnn @kgneptun @penny44224 @ribbioniki @strxwbloody @immelissaaa @nshmrarki @yawnzzhoon @sousydive @yunhoswrldddd @whateverhoon @cloud-lyy @missychief1404 @ensaz008 @sunsunl0ver @binniesbabe @oneheart-break @skzenhalove

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rivatar · 7 months ago

Text

“You’re Mine Now”

Pairing: Aged!Up!Lo’ak x fem!omatikayan!reader

W/c: 2.5k (oops)

Warnings/content: MDNI, heavy smut, non-con, dacryphilia, innocence/corruption kink, possessive & rough Lo’ak, reader is a virgin, cream pie, (lmk if I missed any!)

A/n: this is for prompt 4 of Pandora’s Bloody Moon. I know Bia’s acc is deleted but @hidden-snow asked that we continue the event. So here ya go, ya filthy sluts 💖

Also credit to @sugarsong78 for creating the idea of the Blood Moon! ❤️

P.S. if any of you have watched the movie Fear with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon— it’s kinda giving that whole psychopath vibe 🤭👀

Lo’ak had always had eyes for you. Sure, he got around and had his fair share of girls, but you made him unbelievably curious and he came to the conclusion that he needed to corrupt you before anyone else did, or he would never be satisfied.

Maybe it was because you were so untouchable. He was certain you were a virgin because he knew almost all the other guys have tried to sweet talk you and always end up failing, just like he did. He had thought he would have an advantage as the Olo’eyktan’s son but you still turned him down, much to his frustration.

It wasn’t that he was desperate for sex, he could easily hook up with many of the other omatikaya girls. But something about you always intrigued him and drew in his attention. Maybe it was the chase that he liked so much, the fact that you wouldn’t give into him made him want you more, like a challenge. He spent far too much time thinking about you and wanting to know more about you. He would talk to you and joke with you whenever he could, constantly trying to just earn a spot with you. There was even times he thought of you when he was fucking another girl so that he could finish. He was infatuated and wanted to have you and ruin you. He wanted to show you how good he can make you feel and watch you crumble over and over again though multiple orgasms until you were shaking from being overstimulated. He wanted to be the first. But how could he if you wouldn’t even give him the slightest chance?

Tonight was the night the Blood Moon would make its appearance; all Na’vi knew and many prepared themselves the best they could. A lot of families essentially locked themselves inside their houses and took sleeping medicine so that they wouldn’t be awake and outside roaming in their demon form.

On the other hand, a lot of Na’vi embraced this phenomenon. They thought of it as a natural way of life and it should be able to take its course through them for just one night of the year. Eywa made no mistakes to them, so surely there was a reason for this too.

Lo’ak was aware this was tonight and he made up his mind and had a plan in order. He was going to find you and have you, no matter what. And the scheming bastard was so clever that he already knew he was going to blame his shameful behavior on the Blood Moon’s effect on him, so that hopefully you would forgive him afterwards.

…

You on the other hand, were one who didn’t want to participate in this and you were going to take all the precautions to avoid everyone and the consequences. This wasn’t your first rodeo, you’ve done this before on this night each year and have been fine. Your process was to close off your entrance so one would come in and so the moonlight wouldn’t touch you and make you possessed. Once the Blood moonlight hit the Na’vi skin, it was game over.

To trap yourself in, years ago you had made a woven covering supported with wooden beams that covers where your opening to your hut is. It was still evening but you would rather be safe then sorry so you put it up and tied it securely to the sides of your hut to keep it in place.

Then you sat and waited and ate your dinner alone. Praying to Eywa nothing would happen to you tonight.

…

You lifted the covers on your cot to tuck yourself in, deciding to try and go ahead and go to sleep.

Your ear twitches as you hear a sound outside your living space, as if someone was walking up to your blocked-off entrance.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Your heart dropped as you stared fearfully at your makeshift door being banged on repeatedly.

“YAWNEEEE!! ITS LOAKKK!!” He shouted loudly while still banging the door.

What in Eywa’s name? Lo’ak?? Yawne???

You were so shocked you didn’t speak, not knowing what to say and hoping maybe he’d go away. He wouldn’t be in his right mind right now.

The banging continued. “You gonna let me in??? Or do I have to break in myself??” He yelled while obnoxiously laughing.

“L-Lo’ak, please go away! I’m trying to sleep,” you tried to deny his request politely.

“Nahhh baby, why would I leave when I need you so bad?? Think I’ll dieee if I don’t get you!”

What the hell? This cannot be happening. Your heart was pounding and your hands were clammy in fear. He was literally insane right now.

Then he used all his strength which was heightened right now to shake and break your barrier down, snapping the ties loose and it fell forward with a thud in front of him.

Standing at the door, he instantly made eye contact with you sitting on your bed.

The sight of him was enough to make you nearly piss yourself. His skin was grey and his freckles were bright red, a much different look from his normal vibrant blue. But his eyes were the most horrific part; replacing the normal yellow tint, they were now red orbs glowing in the dark of the night. He smiled devilishly from ear to ear, flashing his even larger fangs and ran his tongue over his teeth like you were his delicious prey. He looked deranged, like a psycho.

“Hi, yawne,” he whispered eerily, still smiling and staring deep into your soul. It seemed to make him smile bigger seeing how terrified you looked trying to cower back onto the bed. You noticed the tent in his loincloth and tears started forming in your eyes. You knew another effect of the Blood Moon was heightened sexual urges.

“Lo’ak please!! Don’t do this!!” You begged.

He quietly stalked closer to you until he could kneel next to your bed. He was even scarier up close.

“Why not? I don’t think I can wait a second longer, baby,” he rubbed your leg and you jumped at the contact.

“I don’t want to!” You cried, warm tears cascading down your cheeks.

You looked into those eyes and didn’t see the Lo’ak you normally knew. No, he was possessed right now, of course it wasn’t really him.

He ran his calloused hand up your leg to cup your pussy through your cloth. You barely whimpered in both terror and sudden pleasure shooting up your spine as you continued crying.

He grinned more. He thought you looked so pretty when you cried.

He then moved your loincloth to the side to touch your bare cunt.

“You’re wet already. You may not want this but your pretty pussy is crying out for me,” he tried convincing you; and subconsciously himself.

He slid a finger inside you swiftly and watched your face intently for a reaction. You were trying so hard not to give him any reaction but you have never felt this before so the pleasure was an unknown feeling for you that you couldn’t control.

All you could do was stare at him as your chest heaved up and down, adjusting to the new stretch his long finger provided.

He pulled it back and slammed back in. A gasp slipped out of your mouth as your pussy fluttered, gripping him perfectly.

“Fuck, that little virgin pussy is sucking me in so tight. Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you out a bit before you have to take my cock,” Lo’ak said.

“Please stop,” you begged again and shook your head ‘no’, yet feeling betrayed by your body succumbing to the pleasure.

Your unwillingness seemed to only make him want you more. He was determined to make you take it and make you cum and feel good. By the end of it you were gonna like it, he promised himself in his mind.

“But you’re doing so good. I gotta claim you as mine now,” he stated plainly, as if that wasn’t a big deal nor required your consent.

He pumped his finger into you and you felt an unfamiliar tightening and gooey feeling in your lower stomach. It felt so good after the initial stretch. You tried to not moan but you couldn’t help it, so you threw your head back so you at least wouldn’t have to look at him. You spread your legs more without even thinking. He didn’t want to wait any longer to ravish you, and ruin you and your innocence.

He suddenly yanked your loincloth off and decided your top needed to go too so he ripped it off as well, leaving you on display for him.

He nearly drooled at the sight, you were like a fresh meal set out and prepared for him, all for his taking.

“Gonna make you cum first before I fuck you,” he told you.

He lowered his head to lick at your clit and continued pumping his single digit. The feeling of his rough tongue was something else, it was entirely foreign and nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. It was heavenly.

He then added another finger, assuming you were ready for it by the way your wetness coated his fingers and knuckles. Your sounds of pleasure tumbled from your lips and he savored every one of them like the sweetest song to his ears.

“Feels good, right?” He asked sensually.

You nodded your head and gave a whiny, pathetic “mhmm”

“Yeah I know it fucking does. Should’ve done this to you a long time ago”

Your brain didn’t register that he wanted to do this before now, too. Your adrenaline coursed through your veins and all your senses were heightened. So many unfamiliar feelings all at once and you had no choice but to lay and take it.

“I-It feels weird,” you panted “like I’m about to pee” your eyebrows scrunched up.

He laughed at your pure innocence, it filled him with so much pride and his ego swelled.

“That means you’re gonna cum. Poor girls never felt an orgasm before, huh?”

Your heart sped up faster and the pleasure increased more and more, rushing you towards the climax.

“You never even touched yourself? Really?”

You shook your head no, barely processing his words.

He made a noise almost like a growl. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. So fucking sweet and innocent, all for me to corrupt”

And just like that, you felt a release rush through you and taking over your body. You shook uncontrollably and yelled loudly, conquering your first ever orgasm. He kept licking and pumping to prolong it. It then turned into oversensitivity and you pushing his head away the best you could. He decided to be nice and let off you.

You panted and tried to come back down from it, exhausted already. He chuckled and smiled at you as he licked up all your mess off his face and hand. Your eyebrows were still crunched, but right now it was in confusion and horror at how nasty he was— that just seemed so dirty.

Without saying another word, he pulled down his loincloth to let his cock spring out. You looked at it in curiosity and fear.

“Never seen one of these before, have you?”

You weakly shook your head no, wondering how in the world that was supposed to go inside you?

He started jerking himself slowly and you watched him, frozen in your place. He didn’t take his eyes off you, those red eyes boring into your soul.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he roughly commanded, pointing at the floor in front of him.

You knew you had no choice but to obey, so you slowly and hesitantly did so.

“Good. Now arch that pretty back some”

You again did as he said, poking your ass out more for him.

“Mmmm. What a beautiful sight,” he spoke in awe and approval. He was checking out every part of you like this, staring mainly at your glistening, puffy cunt all eager and ready to be taken.

You were scared of him in his current state and trying to get this over with. You were sure he was gonna hurt you with his cock, judging by the size of him.

You heard him lower himself to his knees behind you and then felt his hand grab onto your hip. He lined himself up and you gasped when you felt his tip make contact with your hole.

“Gonna make you mine now. Your mind, body, and soul will be connected to me now. You never forget your first. And don’t worry, you’re gonna love this cock,” he said.

You weakly turned your head towards him and nodded, not wanting to anger him while he was like this. He could kill you right now if he wanted to.

“Beg for it”

“W-What?”

“I said fucking beg for it. Act like you want it.” He demanded harshly. “Good girls say please”

“Please, Lo’ak” you whimpered weakly.

He spanked your ass hard. “Say it like you mean it!”

“Please! Please! I need it!”

“Good girl,” he finally praised.

Shifting his hips forward, he pressed inside you. The stretch due to his thick girth was even better than he imagined. You were so warm and wet and tight for him.

You winced in pain at the stretch but honestly took it like a champ. You didn’t want to sound pathetically in pain because of him and let him win this.

“You feel so good,” he groaned deeply.

He started thrusting, setting a brutal pace. He was lost in the feeling, he had never felt a pussy this good.

You moaned and tried to cover your noise with your hand. You felt so full and his dick was reaching to where his fingers couldn’t get to. He pressed his back over you and grabbed under your jaw to bring your face next to his. This caused your back to arch more, your flesh smacking and getting louder and louder

“Taking it so well. Be a good girl and cum on my cock, will you?” He asked while tilting his head to look at your face, sloppily kissing your cheek.

You hummed and moaned, not really answering him. Your face was scrunched up and your eyes occasionally opened to look at the ceiling. You were caught up in your pleasure too and were losing all your thoughts.

Before you could register, the feeling came again and your orgasm ripped through you. You made a mess on his dick as your juices flowed out while you convulsed on his length.

“Fuck! That’s so hot,” Lo’ak grunted, watching your pussy cream on his cock. It was more than enough to make him finish too.

“Gonna fill you up now so you’ll smell like me and all the guys will know I claimed you for myself before they could”

His cum spurted inside you and painted your walls pearly white. You felt the warmness and the way everything got even more slippery as his dick was still fucking you, getting every last drop of cum out.

He finally slowed down and you slumped to the floor, absolutely exhausted.

“Good job yawne, I’m so proud of you,” he praised sweetly, quite contrary to the way he appeared— looking like a demon from a nightmare.

He rose up to go over and grab the boundary he broke through earlier. Your ears perked up and wondered what he was doing.

“Gotta make sure no one else wonders in here with us,” he answered your unspoken question.

“You’re mine now.”

Taglist/moots: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @ikeyniofthetayrangi @loakstahni @inolaphoenix @property-of-neteyam @loak-te-suli @nonamevenus (if you don’t wanna be tagged just lmk!!)

#atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar smut #avatar fanfiction #james cameron avatar #loak sully #loak #loak x y/n #loak smut #loak x you #loak fanfiction #loak x reader #loak x omatikaya!reader #atwow loak #smut #atwow smut #atwow x reader #rivatar

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kithtaehyung · 1 year ago

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busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍 drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 18.8k gdi

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences.

But one thing you two have in common?

He’s just as stubborn as you are.

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,

“The fuck it isn’t—”

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything.

Except let you do this yourself.

“Please.”

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”

He laughs again. So do you.

And the both of you break all at once.

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in.

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.”

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”

“I’ll be okay.”

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.”

“It sure as fuck was.”

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.”

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”

“Take you home?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.

If you didn’t have to wait.

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze.

So does time.

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,” you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons…

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.

“Fuck.”

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory.

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that.

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.”

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence.

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close.

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?

This can’t be it.

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”

“Until they realized we kept going alone.”

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”

True. “It could be worse, I think.”

“How?”

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.

Together.

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that.

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton.

“And leave this to us when you came back.”

So… He…

Holy shit.

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?

…Is he paying loans?

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”

“Empty?”

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.

And regret others.

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”

“All the time.”

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds.

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”

“Okay.”

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.

“Spoke to Kook.”

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.”

He what?

“Wait… You were?”

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.”

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—”

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh?

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean…

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start.

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.”

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”

“Mm.”

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

Huh. “Me? How?”

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.

“Not even denying it. I like this.”

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.

“Break? Or what do you feel like?”

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”

“Mmk.”

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

“You can definitely be upset.”

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.

Only warmth. And understanding.

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,

“What are you gonna say?”

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.

They’re lighter.

How is that possible? You’re still sad.

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.

“You will.”

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”

“Oh? The luckiest then.”

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.

“Maybe you’re right.”

One week turns into three.

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about—

Oh. Right.

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope.

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob.

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back?

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds.

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.

To the point where it’s starting to scare you.

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen…

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.”

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.

“Babe, tell me. Now.”

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless.

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.”

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”

“I just… You read.”

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there?

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?”

He freezes.

Which gives you a chance.

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn��t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet.

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.”

You do.

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.

“Please what.”

Everything you want.

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.

You don’t know what’s coming over you.

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.”

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.

“So fucking filthy...”

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.

“Don’t do that.”

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.”

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.

You know your panties are soaked.

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.

Perfect.

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,

“So fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.”

“Be for real.”

“Damn serious.”

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.”

“But—Yoongi!”

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops.

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?”

“Plea—Baby!”

“Huh?”

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.”

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?”

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.

“Then fucking beg.”

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.”

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.

Because his eyes speak volumes.

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.”

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.

It’s not.

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”

What is he—

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.

“Uh uh. Stay like that.”

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.”

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.”

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.”

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.”

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.”

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.

“Again.”

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,

“Again.”

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.

Oh, if they could witness you now.

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.

Yeah. Stuff like that.

“I’m her favorite.”

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.

Does he feel at home, too?

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”

“K.”

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“S’ok.”

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,

“I always do, babe.”

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.

“That’s my fault.”

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me tonight.”

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,

“A little longer is nothing.”

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.”

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.

“Not at all.”

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything.

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”

—

tbc. :)

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf) A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder. A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist

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neptuneiris · 11 months ago

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could you pretend to be in love? (02/10)

The Contract

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: there is no turning back now and now you and Aemond set the rules and conditions to start the whole farce.

word count: 4.6k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!🥳

I thought this would be a very nice way to wish happy new year to all of you beautiful people who support me and like what I write, you don't know how much that means to me🥺

thank you for so much support and for so much love, I have loved being here and I definitely plan to stay for longer, seeing how that love evolves and my place here as a writer🥰 so enjoy a lot this new chapter that I really hope you like it a lot❤

many blessings to all of you, my best wishes for your lives in this 2024, I love you all so much!😊❤

enjoy!

It's the first thing you see after turning off the alarm and you curiously enter to read the recent messages from an unknown number, not having the slightest idea of who it might be.

But you let out a long sigh of frustration when you read them and see that it's Aemond, who you don't understand how the fuck he got your number. Of course, it shouldn't have been hard for him, just a few questions and anyone can tell him what he wants to know.

And knowing that you have a long day ahead of you today, you already feel the pressure all over your body when you haven't even left your bed, where you also feel the frustration and all this uncertainty that you thought you had already overcome, but no.

You barely accepted yesterday and suddenly putting the plan into action from one day to the next, it's too much. But without really having a choice, you reluctantly force yourself to get up and start getting ready.

After an hour, you leave your house with the nagging feeling of carrying a weight on your shoulders to school. And all the way there, not even the music in your ears can make your mind calm down for a moment.

Knowing very soon that your whole social life will be a mess and you will no longer be invisible, since after all Aemond was right in that respect, causes you even more uneasiness and also nervousness because you are going to pretend to be the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school.

And once the bus makes its stop, you soon enter the halls of the bustling school. And knowing that a certain silver-haired guy is waiting for you right now, every heavy step you take towards the schoolyard echoes loudly in your ears, increasing your nervousness and anxiety.

You're even tempted to back up and tell him to forget it, but you resist and keep moving forward.

As you walk through the huge doors of the backyard, it's only a matter of time before you make out the figure of Aemond sitting at the same table as yesterday in the distance. Your heart skips a beat and you feel more nervous, but gathering your courage and taking a long breath, you advance towards him, ready but with uncertain steps.

Every step seems heavy, as if you are walking into the unknown and you try to hide the nerves in your gaze, especially when Aemond notices your presence. He watches you and slowly turns to you, a subtle smile on his lips.

Again there is that feeling of telling him to forget it, to find someone else, that you can't do this. But... your mind stops you and screams at you not to be silly, that at the end of it all there will be a reward, a very good reward that getting it by faking a relationship with him, is nothing.

And it's definitely worth it.

So resigned, you reach out to him.

"Hey," he says to you without wiping off his little smile, as you take a seat in front of him and he waits for you to finish settling in, "So you've come."

"Don't bother me," you tell him without humor, definitely contrasting his mood to yours.

"Now what did I do?"

"That," you point to his face, "You're enjoying this, seeing that I haven't backed out."

"Oh, please, I actually thought you wouldn't come and tell me to fuck off after you thought better of it," he justifies himself.

"Yeah? Well, nothing a free admission to your dream college won't do," you say with a slightly sarcastic tone, though implicitly admitting your reasons, "And it's actually not like I like skipping classes, so could we get this started?"

Aemond exhales long, averting his gaze from yours for a moment before returning to watching you.

"You know you'll have to be charming and act like you're completely in love with me in public, right?" he poses, expectantly.

"Yes, I know... in public," you point out to him, "Just now no one knows we're 'dating' genius," you add, underlining the falsity of the situation.

He places a small, amused, smirk on his lips.

"Yet."

He adds with a slightly defiant tone and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get too excited either."

"Are you not?"

"Oh yeah, I can't handle the excitement," you feign in a high-pitched, ironic voice, making exaggerated hand gestures.

Aemond lets out a short but genuine laugh at your gesture. He leans back slightly, his eye revealing a mischievous glint as he watches you.

"Glad to see you're keeping your sense of humor in this," he says with his tone changing slightly to a more relaxed one.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" you reply, accepting his change of mood, but still maintaining a certain emotional distance.

You figure it's just a matter of the two of you getting more into trust, and if you're going to do this with him, you're definitely going to do your part. But for now, this is still a little awkward and unexpected. And the sooner you do this, the better it will be for you.

So you shift your focus and lean forward slightly with a more serious expression on your face.

"So let's get started?"

"Well, making a contract will take up a lot of our time, so I thought it would be easier to just say and agree between us-

"It will be easier this way, to write down and establish the rules and the conditions we want to do during all this, just to have everything clear and not miss anything, Aemond," you interrupt him, taking out a notebook and a pen to start writing.

"Okay, fine," he says, shrugging his shoulders.

"So?" you watch him expectantly with the blank sheet of paper in front of you and your pen in hand, "What do you suggest first?"

"Well... first we need to know when this will all end," he begins to say, adopting a relaxed but firm stance, "And I would say that it may end when it is no longer necessary for both of you to continue pretending. But I think it's a better idea for us to last until graduation."

He proposes, looking at you intently, waiting for your reaction and you can't help but be a little surprised to hear that.

"Until graduation?" you repeat and he nods, "But you really want to do this for almost five months?"

"I know it's a long time, but that time can be beneficial for both of us," he explains, "That's enough time to give our relationship credibility and authenticity and it's also enough time to handle any problems that arise."

He says and you nod cautiously, evaluating his words.

"But if you disagree, tell me," he hurries to say.

His calm tone and your reasons contrast with the uncertainty and indecision you feel. And the two of you have barely started.

Five months is such a compromising situation and it generates some concern, because you know you will face so many things you still have no idea about and every day it could become more complicated to maintain the farce.

"I guess it's okay," you cautiously admit, trying to see the big picture, "But I feel like it's still a long time. But also reducing that time might not be enough," you agree.

"Yes but I'm sure we can handle it. And don't worry, if at some point we feel it's too much or we don't have enough reason to keep pretending anymore, we can talk iand end it."

You remain pondering, considering his words and after a few seconds you nod in agreement, and write it down as the first point on the sheet. But this alone is the first piece of a much more complicated puzzle.

1. Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

And Aemond also brings up the next point of the contract, expressing his ideas with quiet but evident assurance.

"Now, second..." he begins, "As for behavior in public, we should genuinely show affection in the hallways, cafeteria, and at any school activity and event. In a relationship people don't take their hands off each other, so we should smile at each other, hug each other, make subtle gestures, hold hands-

"Don't say kissing, please," you interrupt him, pleading, taking him by surprise.

"Of course, Y/N," he tells you instantly, incredulous, "Obviously we'll have to kiss."

As if having to act completely in love with him and be every moment touching him isn't enough. But the idea of kissing seems a bit much to you.

"I agree about showing affection and all that, but that kissing thing might be awkward and... weird," you say, trying to be sincere but not seeming completely closed off to the idea.

Aemond looks at you incredulously.

"So you don't want us to kiss?"

"I don't think it's necessary, honestly."

"Are you crazy? How are we supposed to pretend if we're not going to kiss? No one's going to believe us if we don't kiss and that's what will literally make the whole relationship believable," he insists, visibly concerned.

"Yeah, I get that it might seem necessary, but...at least I don't want to be having to kiss you every single time."

"You don't want to kiss me?" he asks you, visibly surprised, confused and... maybe a little hurt?

You watch him silently for a moment not understanding his reaction and then watch him with a small amused smile.

"I'm not one of your fans, Targaryen."

"Oh come on, everyone wants to kiss me," he says confused and incredulous, proving his point.

"Even the guys?"

"Well... yeah, I don't know, maybe some of them," he says with a shrug.

"Seven Hells," you mutter, averting your gaze for a moment, "I-I really don't want to do that," you say, speaking seriously and then you let out a sigh, "But you're right that no one's going to believe us-

"Obviously. I always have," he is quick to say.

"So my proposal is this... we'll kiss, yes, but only when it's extremely necessary, and when I say extremely necessary I mean extremely necessary."

You watch him intently, keeping yourself willing with your proposal, waiting for his opinion, which judging by his face, he doesn't quite agree with.

"And what would those extremely necessary moments be exactly?" he inquires, attentive and interested, also still looking slightly worried.

"In the cafeteria or in the hallways when everyone is obviously looking at us and we're attracting attention. Just don't abuse it."

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Well, let's limit them to extremely necessary moments," he finally says resignedly and you quickly note the second point.

2. Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

"But then that second point is also going to apply to the parties you'll be going to with me and my lacrosse games you'll be going to."

You quickly raise your gaze to him.

"What?"

"Yes," he nods, "Going to the parties together will also lend credibility to the relationship and obviously we have to be very close to each other. And it's the same in my games, you must go to support and encourage me, like any girlfriend in love with her boyfriend would."

Aemond's words provoke an instant reaction in you, that confusing you and taking you by surprise.

"But I don't go to parties."

"Now you will," he says with a calm expression, reaching out his hand and taking the pen and your notebook.

"But-

He is already writing in a section further down the sheet which he lists as; 'additional conditions'.

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

"Aemond, I'm not a big fan of parties, really," you insist, "You'll have a bad time if you take me with you and I'll probably ruin everything."

"Don't worry, I'll teach you the trick to having a good time and change that mentality you have. Besides I won't take you to every party, just a few," he assures you, "All while keeping up appearances," he hands you back your notebook and pen, "With me you'll never get bored, I promise," he says with a small smile on his lips.

You let out a sigh, placing the notebook back in front of you, still undecided.

"Yes? Well, we'll see about that. I warned you though."

He lets out a soft little laugh.

"Come on Y/N, you can't be that bad."

"I assure you I can be."

"And so what do you do for fun?" he asks you, keeping his smile, curiosity evident in his gaze.

And there it is, the question that totally describes your personality and that in fact you don't like to answer to just anyone, because then they call you boring. But you can't lie to Aemond, he is astute enough and would notice.

So you decide to be honest.

"I like to read," you reply, lowering your gaze and feeling slightly embarrassed, "And I love going to the movies or watching movies and shows at home, either one is totally fine with me. Oh... and... hm... I also like ice skating, although I don't do that as often but... it's something I like too."

And even though it's only a bit of the world of things you like, Aemond listens to you attentively with a soft expression, saying nothing afterwards, as if he's processing every word you've said, while you only feel more embarrassed by the silence.

You know there's nothing wrong with it but it always made you insecure to share your hobbies, mostly because you know that many girls your age enjoy their teenage years going out with friends to parties and getting drunk.

That didn't and doesn't appeal to you now. You have long been more comfortable with the idea of staying home or going out somewhere else instead of going to parties.

It's not as if you don't attend or avoid every social event, yes you can attend and have a good time depending on who you are with and where, but not as often as every weekend.

However, you understand and recognize the logic behind Aemond's suggestion and that is that attending parties, is essential. And just as he is about to finally speak, you do so first.

"I know they are simple things and are not very exciting for most people. I also know they can be very boring but for me... that's what I like," you shyly confess.

"Hm," he says, taking a small moment, watching you softly, only causing you even more embarrassment, "Well, that's not what I was going to say," he says, catching your attention, "Sometimes it is the simple things that mean the most to everyone and, being honest... I find them interesting," he adds, trying to evaporate any awkwardness and embarrassment you might feel.

You raise your gaze, meeting his bright blue eye watching you softly and with his gaze full of genuine understanding, along with that hint of curiosity. And that gets your attention too.

He's not judging you. And even though it's not something he would do or at least hasn't tried to do yet, he's not judging you for it and you see that genuine interest in his gaze.

"Tell you what, for every party you go to with me, I'll read one of your favorite books or a movie or shows you want me to watch," he says, picking up the notebook and pen again.

"What?" you look at him confused, unable to help but smile in bewilderment, "Are you serious?"

"You must set your own conditions too," he states as he writes, "I already dragged you into my world, so now you're dragging me into yours," he looks up at you, "What do you think? Is it a fair exchange or not?"

His proposal takes you by surprise and also confuses you a little, however, the small smile remains on your face.

The genuine expression of openness on his face and the determination with which he wrote definitely makes you feel more comfortable. His willingness to immerse himself in your interests was not something you had agreed upon from the beginning, nor is it something extremely necessary to fake a relationship.

But it's for the simple reason that you both feel comfortable if you're going to pretend for almost five months and it seems like a nice gesture from him to include it, something you honestly didn't expect from him.

And when he gives you back your notebook, you see the new rule under 'additional conditions'.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

"Yes," you nod, "Sounds like a fair deal to me."

Aemond smiles, pleased with your answer and also seeing the expression on your face.

"Great. We'll see if I discover something new I like. And you too..." he points at you with his index finger, "You won't regret it after you have a great time at my parties," he says enthusiastically, with a sort of complicity in his tone.

"Well, we'll see if you manage to impress me."

And right there, the two of you exchange complicit glances, Aemond having that little smile on his lips while you don't understand this strange new alliance the two of you are building.

But even though you didn't expect it, it's definitely to your liking.

"Now, third..." you point to the notebook with your pen, "Reinforcing the second rule, public appearance," you say, observing him, "We must act as a committed and attentive couple to each other at school and to these parties you want us to go to."

Aemond nods determinedly, thoughtfully.

"Yes, commitment at all times," he states seriously.

"So, that also means that neither of us can be with other people for the duration of all this, not even secretly," you add, making the point clear.

"And you want to write that as a rule too? It's obvious that neither of us should-

"I'll write it as the fourth rule, just to be clear about everything as I told you."

"Oh, fine."

3. Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

4. No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

"Oh and also..." says Aemond, reminding, "Since we're at that point, on additional conditions write that we should both upload photos and videos together on our social media. It's another way to lend credibility to our relationship."

"Photos and videos together on our social media," you repeat, looking at the notebook.

And this catches Aemond's attention.

"Don't tell me you don't use your social media," he says beginning to sound alert and concerned.

"No, no, I-I mean, yes," you hasten to say, "It's just... I don't know, I most likely don't use them as often as you do, besided I have very few followers."

"Don't worry, whatever followers you have are fine. Besides, I'm sure they'll increase when I upload my first photo with you."

You roll your eyes with an amused smile.

"Okay, Mr. Popularity."

"And speaking of that, hand me your Instagram and all your networks," he says instantly, grabbing his cell phone from his front pocket, "We better have that all figured out now."

Obviously Aemond's accounts had to be public while you maintain your privacy, with barely thirteen hundred followers while he has almost the entire school following him and probably from other schools as well.

In fact, your numbers compared to his are embarrassing. But you never really had the interest of having more followers on Instagram or more friends on Facebook, Snapchat is the same and apparently that doesn't matter to Aemond.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

"And well, I also think another very important thing is to maintain privacy," you suggest, lifting your gaze to watch him and Aemond gives you a confused look.

"Do you really want to write that down too? It's obvious we can't tell anyone-

"Let me enjoy this, Aemond. It's actually fun and I want to write it all down. So act serious," you ask.

He lets out a choked laugh.

"Well, yes, we must be discreet, no one must know that all this is false, only we know the truth and we must keep it that way," he says and you excitedly write it down.

"We mustn't involve our families in this either," you add, watching him intently, "But that will be difficult because your siblings are here," you grimace.

"We can keep up the farse with them for a while too, I'll convince them not to say anything to my mother or the rest of my family. And once everyone here at school is convinced enough, I'll tell the truth only to them," he say sure and confident, solving the problem.

"And you're sure you'll manage to keep them that way?"

"Yeah," he says with a shrug, "They're my siblings. I know how it works with each one."

5. Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot..." Aemond says as he points to what is already written, "You must also go on each year's trip to Dragonstone with me. That's another additional condition of mine."

"What?" you inquire again, surprised and confused.

"Yes, the trip to Dragonstone," he affirms.

Oh God, the trip to Dragonstone.

Dragonstone is an island not far from King's Landing, where there is an ancient castle with a lot of history but has been modernized with the same name and is open to every visitor.

The school makes an annual trip for educational purposes as the castle has relics and structuring from thousands of years ago. You have seen pictures and videos where everything looks really beautiful, ancestral and almost royalty.

In addition the castle offers other activities, such as rides on its huge luxury yachts, surfing, diving and swimming lessons.

You always had the spirit to go but have always known that the trip is anything but educational. You've heard stories that happen with the students, such as getting drunk, partying on the yachts, hot tubs and obviously you've heard stories of who slept with whom.

Even the most reserved get to have fun and it's not something you're interested in. You know you don't fit in that environment, especially since everyone has to share a room and you're sure that if you go, you'll have to share a room with girls with different tastes and perspectives than yours. They probably won't even let you sleep.

"Come on Y/N, you've never been to Dragonstone?" asks Aemond incredulously, noting the grimace on your face for wanting you to go there with him.

"Well, yeah I've wanted to go but... I-I, I don't know, I've heard that instead of learning about the place, everyone goes to having fun, they party, they get drunk and I-I don't...

"And what do you expect us to do in a modern castle on the shore of the beach with yachts and hot tubs?" he inquires again, expectantly, "The trip is planned for the middle of the last month of these five months and you can't let me go alone with the things that go on in that place."

You make your grimace more visible, revealing your clear indecision. And even though you and Aemond have been at odds lately over the matter of tastes, he still places a soft smile in your direction, understanding that you are not like him and prefer to do other things.

"Look, you don't have to go to the parties and drink if you don't want to," he starts to tell you, "But we can at least go to one of the parties on the yachts and then do the activities they offer on site, swimming, diving and all that," he proposes, "We'll take pictures, tour the castle and we'll both be equally satisfied."

You ponder for a moment, considering his proposal. You know you only have to get your father's signature on the permit to be able to go to the island and it's not like you've gone before so... you can do it now.

"Well, I guess that's fine," you nod, "But really promise you won't leave me alone and we'll take the time to do other activities that aren't related to partying on yachts and hot tubs."

"Please, we'll go as a couple, so of course I won't leave you alone. You'll be stuck with me," he assures you, "And I also promise you that we'll do other activities, not just the parties."

"And..." you start to say, in a serious, warning tone, "Also promise you'll pick me up every morning to bring me to school. That's another one of my additional conditions. The bus isn't very comfortable anymore."

He nods, shrugging, completely unconcerned.

"Sure, it's no problem. Besides it will make the relationship more credible," he says softly.

Despite your doubts, you feel a sense of relief at seeing and acknowledging his commitment. And you also feel more confident knowing that you have his support in all of this, even in your conditions. So you write down the two new additional conditions.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

At the end you both sign the sheet, looking honestly ridiculous but being funny, then both seal the whole contract by shaking hands.

"So when do we start all this?" you ask him, putting away your notebook and pen.

"I say tomorrow," he gives you a look of understanding, "But we need to talk now during classes in the hallways or in the cafeteria, so that when they see us together tomorrow, it won't be so surprising and will seem more believable."

You give him an unsure look.

"I think it will still be very surprising, Aemond."

"It doesn't matter, we just have to start showing together today, just talking. But tomorrow is when we really start."

And just as he says those words, with that determination, you feel again those nerves in your lower abdomen and that insecurity. But at least you still have all day today to mentally prepare yourself, and you're grateful for that.

"And before I forget this too..." he says again, "I need you to send me all your academic information to work on your college application now," he tells you seriously and you watch him completely attentively, "The five months will go by fast and during that time college applications will start. So it's best to get it all in now."

At this, you feel your heart start to beat fast and you don't know why, you guess because it's a very important issue for you. And more than anything else it's the reason you agreed to do this with him.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," you say softly, "I-I'll email it all to you."

He smiles softly in your direction.

"Very well," he nods at you, "I'll text you my email."

Despite your slight doubts about whatever is going to happen next, the idea of starting a fake relationship leaving you with a knot in your stomach and feeling your emotions mixed, you know this will all be worth a try.

So you pick up your phone and you start to write in an email all your personal and academic information. While at the same time all is said and done and the fake relationship contract is over.

THE CONTRACT

Duration of relationship: Until graduation.

Behavior in public: Show affection as genuinely as possible in public, such as gestures, hugs, and holding hands. KISSING ONLY WHEN EXTREMELY NECESSARY.

Public appearance: Act like a real couple in love, be committed and attentive to each other at school and social events.

No involvement with other girls/guys: No casual encounters or texting with anyone else for the duration of the fake relationship.

Maintain privacy: Tell absolutely no one about the fake relationship or involve each other's families in it.

ADDITIONAL CONDITIONS

Parties.

Lacrosse games.

For every party Y/N goes to with me, I will read a book or watch one of her favorite movies or shows.

Upload photos and videos together to our social media.

Drive Y/N every morning to school.

Dragonstone trip.

general taglist

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #modern aemond #modern hotd

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moo-siala · 4 months ago

Text

FALINE — JAMAL MUSIALA

PAIRING: jamal musiala x best friend!reader

SUMMARY: jamal and reader have been best friends since forever but they can't hide their love for each other any longer.

CONTENT: fluff, jamal and reader being scared, slight mention of sexual intercourse (nothing too graphic), some teasing, not proof read.

NOTE: this is a repost because i didn’t realize i posted it with an ask that had nothing to do with this story 💀

you and jamal have been best friends your whole life. your mothers were best friends, so it made sense that you two became so close.

you were there when he had his first try out, you were there when he signed his first contract, and you were there when he won his first trophy.

you were also each other's first, that night being one of the most beautiful and intimate moments you shared. you can still remember how his hands caressed your whole body, how gentle he was, and the sounds both of you made. but in fear of ruining your friendship, it didn't turn into something more, no matter how badly both of you desired it.

when jamal signed his contract with bayern, you thought that was going to be the end of your friendship. with him going away and you still in high school, it was going to be very complicated to see each other. but that changed when two months before graduation, you received an acceptance letter from the university you had applied to in munich, meaning that the two of you would be able to see each other as much as you wanted.

jamal was so happy that he offered to be roommates, not wanting to be away from you anymore. at first you said no because he wasn't going to let you pay half of the rent like you wanted, but after he agreed to let you take care of groceries, you accepted.

it's been a couple of years since that, and you've never regretted that decision, neither has jamal. in fact, it brought you closer than ever, both of you seeing the best and worst versions of the other, and always supporting each other no matter what. that is how you became jamal's rock, like he says.

even on vacation you're together, like right now. after the euro, all jamal wanted to do was relax under the sun and in the ocean, that's how you ended up in italy, on a boat.

"fali, can you help me?" jamal asked, showing you the sunscreen bottle.

oh yeah, alfonso and leroy had given you the nickname "faline" after bambi's girlfriend and it stuck. you didn't understand why faline was the nickname chosen for you instead of thumper, who was bambi's actual best friend, but you never thought much about it.

"of course, bambi" you got up from your seat and grabbed the bottle, pouring some on your hand and rubbing it on jamal's back.

"that feels nice" jamal chuckled, making you playfully roll your eyes.

"you two! get a room already!" alfonso yelled from the other side of the boat.

"they never get tired, do they?" jamal asked and you shook your head no.

"it's okay, we're always bullying each other" you giggled as you rubbed sunscreen on jamal's chest. your hand made its way down his abs making jamal stiffen, but you didn't notice so he sighed in relief.

"all done" you smiled at him.

"thank you" jamal smiled as he planted a kiss on your forehead.

"no problem"

—

after spending the afternoon eating, swimming, and tanning, you all agreed to watch the sunset for a little before going back to the villa. jamal sat next to you, placing your legs on his as vou aave him a small smile.

"did you have fun today?" he asked, softly caressing your thigh.

"i did. did you have fun?" you hugged his arm as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"i always have fun when you guys are around. when you're around" he was now looking at you.

"me too" you whispered.

"mhm, i'm glad" his hand found your cheek as he stared at your lips. "i have something to confess, but please hear me out before saying anything"

you nodded and jamal took a deep breath.

"i know we agreed on not trying because we didn't want our friendship to be affected, but truth is, it's affected already and it has always been." he caressed your cheek. "it was affected the moment you hugged me and told me i was going to do great before my try outs. it was affected the moment you kissed my cheek and said how proud you were of me when i signed my contract. it was affected the moment we became each other's first, when our bodies became one" his eyes intense.

thank god he told you not to say anything before he was done, because you were speechless, butterflies going crazy in your belly.

"so i want to try. i'm so in love with you it hurts not being able to call you mine just because we're scared of something that may not even happen. so please, give me one chance to prove to you that we can make each other happy" he softly said, his eyes pleading.

"you don't need to prove anything to me, jamal" he looked at you confused.

"you don't need to prove anything to me because i feel the same way. i thought about telling you this, but i was scared you wouldn't want me like that" you blushed.

"i want you in every way, schatz" he cupped your face and gave you a soft and tender kiss.

"ABOUT DAMN TIME!" mika laughed.

"shut up mika" you said at the same time.

"well, now you're officially faline" jamal giggled, placing you on his lap and hugging you tightly.

"i guess so" you kissed his cheek and cuddled up to bambi, your bambi.

#jamal musiala #jamal musiala imagine #jamal musiala x reader #football imagine #football imagines

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nayziiz · 7 months ago

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Disturbed | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the high-stakes world of motorsports, where the roar of engines drowned out all other sounds and the smell of burning rubber hung heavy in the air, Oscar stood as a beacon of unwavering determination. His name was synonymous with calm and resilience, his reputation forged on the anvil of countless hard-fought battles on-track and defying odds by helping keep his team in the running for third in the Constructors Championship. From the moment he first strapped himself into the driver's seat, Oscar had possessed an indomitable spirit that seemed impervious to the twists and turns of the race track.

Race after race, he pushed himself and his car to the very limit in pursuit of glory. Whether navigating treacherous hairpin turns or duelling wheel-to-wheel with his rivals, Oscar never backed down from a challenge. His resolve was unyielding, a relentless force that propelled him forward, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

But for all his unwavering determination, there were moments when he faltered too. It was on one particularly gruelling race day that the cracks in his armour began to show. Everything seemed to conspire against him – mechanical issues, strategic missteps, and a relentless onslaught of bad luck. Each setback chipped away at his confidence, threatening to unravel the very fabric of his resolve.

As the race wore on and Oscar's fortunes continued to decline, a sense of despair settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into his mind, gnawing away at his confidence and sowing seeds of uncertainty. For the first time in his career, he found himself teetering on the brink of defeat, his once unshakable resolve shaken to its core.

Amidst the chaos of the pit lane and the cacophony of roaring engines, there was one constant that anchored Oscar's fraying sanity – her. She was the quiet strength in his corner, the steady presence that never wavered, no matter how tumultuous the storm. Her belief in him was unwavering, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of doubt.

With each passing lap, she mumbled quiet prayers in the garage. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm, her unwavering support a lifeline in his darkest hour. And though he struggled to find solace in the midst of defeat, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would never truly be alone.

As the chequered flag finally fell and the race came to an end, Oscar found himself staring down the bitter taste of defeat. But in the arms of the one who had stood by him through it all, he discovered a glimmer of hope amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams.

“Oscar, listen to me,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos of the post-race pit lane like a beacon of clarity. “I know things didn’t go as planned, but you've got this. You've faced tougher challenges before, and you've always come out on top. This is just another step to reaching the top.”

He glanced over at her, his eyes searching for reassurance in the midst of his turmoil.

“But what if this time is different? What if I've finally met my match?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She reached out and gently took his hand, her touch a comforting presence in the midst of his turmoil.

“You're Oscar Piastri,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You're one of the most talented drivers out there, and nothing – not even a bad race – can change that. You have the skill, the determination, and the heart to overcome anything that comes your way.”

In the aftermath of defeat, Oscar realised that his strength did not lie solely in his ability to conquer adversity, but in his capacity to accept defeat with grace and humility. And though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would always find the courage to carry on. For in her unwavering support, he found the resilience to rise from the ashes of defeat and chase his dreams once more.

#oscar piastri #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #mclaren #mclaren f1 #f1 x reader #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x female reader #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 fic

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sovksluv · 7 months ago

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Eurydice

𖤐 . pairing - death cure!Minho x fem!reader

𖤐 . summary - someone dies basically so yeah

𖤐 . content includes - um major character death !

𖤐 . word count - 493

𖤐 . taglist - @sluttysammyy @delilahandfiction

𖤐 . a/n - sorry this is so short, but i also randomly got this idea (instead of working on all the asks i have 🧍🏻 ) (also thank you for all the asks i have <3 ) REPOST BECAUSE EURYDICE DID NOT DESERVE TO FLOP LIKE IT DID

"no, no, no, no, no. hey-hey. you're okay. c'mon you're okay." he stuttered, inevitable tears leaving burning streaks down his face, though he ignored them. "hey, hey. baby you- you're okay. just-" he inhaled shakily, his breath getting caught in his throat. "look at me, baby. just look at me. you're okay."

he was beginning to believe that the repeating chants were more for him rather than you, the rational side of his brain rapidly failing, eyes constantly blurring and glossing over. Minho held your body close in his arms, his left arm gently cradling your head, which was shaking with his own nerves.

"Minho," you whispered out, barely audible with a sickly paleness to your face, small sticky streaks of blood seeping through the corner of your mouth. there were bullets firing, screaming, shouting, bombs going off, flames exploding from every corner, but the booming sound of his own heartbeat in his head overthrew all other noises.

Minho quivered, mouth dry, empty, despite his head running with thoughts moving thousands of miles a second, quickly flooding in one after the other. he allowed his eyes to droop down to your torso, the metallic crimson already engulfing most of your white undershirt, taunting him with its intensity.

it was unfair. your being had plagued his mind, being the only thing that kept him going. you kept him company in his dreams, distracting him from what they really were - nightmares. but nothing could distract him from this one. this very real nightmare. after six long months of torture, nothing had compared to this. finally being able to hold you in his arms again, only for it to be the last time.

from the moment you reunited, the two of you had yet to lose physical contact, swearing you would never let each other go again. that is why the moment Minho felt your hand abruptly pull from his, he knew it was time. he knew it was over. the ghost of your warmth lingered deep in his soul as the coldness drowned yours, your body succumbing to the inevitable darkness the moment the two of you were presented with the brightest of lights.

your path to forever freedom had been carved, ready for you, yet here you were, on an unexpected secret passage suddenly disrupting your long journey, where your story was coming to an end. the yells of anguish and silent sobs from your friends had no place in Minho's crazed mind, being too occupied yet utterly empty, despite everything he longed to say.

you were so close. one step away from the life you were destined to live together. but fate had been decided, your string had already been cut. and now the small threads of your yarn of life pooled on the ground as the blood seeped from your wound, the shattered body of your lover left to wash away the pieces and walk away without you by his side.

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thisismeracing · 6 months ago

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Not quite love | CL16

read the full piece here

― Pairing: charles leclerc x friend!reader (she/her) ― Warning: mentions of alcohol and food; friends to lovers; angst; unrequited love; not been proofread yet; 2k words. ― Summary: When you get romantically involved with your best friend you were not expecting a marriage proposal, but simply a commitment. You were sure that what you had wasn’t quite love, though it could be and maybe that’s what hurt the most. The fact that you had everything to be each other’s end game, but turned out to be strangers.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

preview

You and Charles had everything to be the perfect couple.

To have the perfect story.

A book-worthy one.

You were long-time friends.

Though your family wasn’t very fond of him, his family loved you, and that was enough. Over half of your friends in common hinted about you guys getting together. The dynamic was this good from the outside, and so was the tension whenever you were together.

You would share desserts, dance with each other, sleep in the same bed after friends get together –nothing sexual ever happened, and maybe that’s the reason why it was so intimate and ground to tension flourish. It was beyond the physical. At least for you.

It all took a turn when you finally moved to Monaco to study and work.

*****

“Don’t cry, chérrie,” he cooed, lips finding a few droplets of tears and cutting short their path on your cheeks. You turned your head in his direction, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his warm skin against yours, seeking the solace of it.

The Monegasque read the way your body leaned in, the way your face felt hotter against his lips, and he lined his breathing with yours giving you enough time to pull back, but you didn’t. In fact, you broke the barrier of space between you two, pressing your lips in a feverish kiss. Charles answered in a second, gripping your waist and bringing you impossibly closer. His tongue was demanding, and his body against yours felt different than the other times. More intimate.

“Fucking finally,” you could almost hear your friends with their hands up to the heavens, so you chuckled, ultimately breaking the kiss. Charles grinned.

“If I knew this is all it would take for you to smile I would have greeted you with a kiss,” his teasing earned a giggle from you.

*****

[...] At the end of the day Charles would sleep at your place –or you at his– at least once a week. You would still share movie nights like when you were just friends. He would still send you funny TikTok he watched, and you were still telling him about all the books you read.

Those were things boyfriends and girlfriends did, you knew that, nevertheless, you wanted to believe that he was planning something. Or that maybe he already saw you that way. Maybe he was afraid of the constant travel and the pressure of his career and media. Maybe he was trying to protect you from the fans.

Charles never voiced any of this. Never sat down to talk about it, and you didn’t ask. Not until you graduated and got a job proposal in America. It wasn’t France, Germany, or Sweden, places you knew would be easier to gravitate to Monaco when the schedule let you. It was oceans apart, but it also felt like an opportunity to compromise, to keep your –hopefully official- relationship going.

The thing is, life is unpredictable. You can’t guess what someone is feeling or how they will react. Your mom would always tell you that the heart is unknown ground – a place nobody will ever explore in its plenitude. You only get in the rooms the other allows, and even then inside there are tons of places that not even the owners visited.

To know yourself is hard, and to know the other is even harder.

You didn’t know Charles.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I hope you guys liked this lil sneak peek! I'm sorry I'm a day late with this piece, but I am happy to be publishing it the day our Monegasque won his home race (though it's a sad piece, it's still with him so :D hehe). Make sure to like and reblog to help your fellow writer *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘 ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @fdl305 @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @callsign-scully @v1naco @piggyinthesea @dearxcherry @peachiicherries @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @thearchieves @skepvids @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercdream @kagatinkita @graciewrote @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @khaylin27 @bernelflo

#op: patreon preview #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #cl16 #millie writes #f1 patreon #f1 imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc angst #millies anniversary #f1 angst #op: patreon exclusive #f1 imagine #friends to lovers to strangers

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lovelytsunoda · 5 months ago

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purple haze // charles leclerc

summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.

pairing: charles leclerc x author reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.

by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.

her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.

“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.

“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.

she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.

and now he knew she needed a break.

taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.

his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.

“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“

charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”

smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.

"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."

"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.

SIX MONTHS LATER

it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.

she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.

"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"

ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."

"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.

and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.

"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."

she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"

"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."

charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.

"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.

making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.

this was it.

she had done it.

"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."

she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"

THREE YEARS LATER

the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.

oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.

since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.

they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.

she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.

and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.

it all came down this night.

"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.

she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.

she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.

"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.

"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."

she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.

"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"

she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.

in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.

and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.

#charles leclerc x reader #formula one x reader #f1 iagine #f1 x reader #f1 one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #Spotify

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turtletaubwrites · 6 months ago

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Numbers Game ~ Part 19

Not a Sound

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 3885

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You reveal your secret.

Author's Note: Thank you soo much for all of the support and encouragement, especially with the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one! 😭💜🙏🏼 (BIG DRAMA & EMOTIONS WARNING)

Alternate POV Symbols:

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Vaginal Fingering, PIV Sex, Hair-Pulling, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

“Can I have a drink?”

Four powerful pirates blinked at you.

It was strange to be on this side of the coffee table. Buggy sat in your spot on the couch between the other leaders of the Guild, while Shanks had pulled up a chair beside Crocodile.

Your green, velvet chair felt like an examination table. Like you were under a microscope, about to get chopped into tiny pieces to be studied.

Buggy had clung to you all morning, barely going a moment without touching you during breakfast. You were grateful he hadn’t tried to feed you any fruit. That thought sent your eyes flicking toward the red haired pirate, more bile climbing up your throat. Buggy’s floating hand rested on yours while they all stared, but you couldn’t get yourself to hold onto it.

“What would you like to–”

“I’ll get it,” you jumped up, cutting Mihawk off, and leaving Buggy’s hand to float alone when you pushed it away to stand. The little bar felt like miles away, and you grabbed the first thing you could see. Crocodile’s stinky scotch in its pretty crystal bottle. You poured a heaping glass, vaguely hearing a reaction from the couch before you chugged the burning liquor.

“What the fuck, baby?”

“Y/N, stop!”

“Don’t— rabbit!”

The three of them surrounded you, snagging the bottle and empty glass from your hands too late while you coughed from that toxic, liquid fire. Crocodile got to you first, kneeling out from the sand at your feet to grab your flushed face, wiping away the stinging tears that you knew wouldn’t be the last.

“Sweetheart, why–”

“Sweetheart,” you choked out, the sound a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Gods, I’m sorry, I– fuck.”

The looks on their faces made you want to scream. You rubbed your eyes with the meat of your palms, trying to be less fucking pathetic.

“Drink, love,” Mihawk soothed, holding a glass of water to your lips.

“We’re right here, star,” Buggy whispered as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“It’s okay,” Crocodile promised, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re our Numbers Girl, no matter what. Alright?”

Your body slumped, nodding as you let them guide you back under that microscope. Shanks was staring at you, but nothing meant anything anymore, so you didn’t bother to study his face.

They let you sit there. Time was empty. It could have been minutes or years before you finally mustered up the energy to ruin everything.

“I’m fucking stupid,” you announced with a sharp laugh, feeling insane.

Maybe I am. Maybe he did put me away.

“Don’t talk like tha–”

“What do you mean, sweet girl?”

“You.”

Growling at your scarred lover, confessions, and a suicidal accusation flowed through your body, spilling out through your eyes and lips.

“You were going to kill us if I wasn’t useful. I could have been free, but I… I called those people for you.”

Crocodile’s face was as cold and unmoving as stone, a cliff you could leap off of.

If only you could have stopped. No one said a word, but the energy was already rolling through you, destroying everything, your throat still raw from that fucking scotch.

“I was an idiot. I was fucking kidding myself thinking I could wait, thinking I could have a few more days.” Your manic laughter turned to pain, a sob hitting your last words.

Glancing up at the couch, you saw your three men clenching their jaws. Crocodile’s arm was wrapped around Buggy, that large hand digging into Mihawk’s shoulder, while Mihawk had grabbed Buggy’s floating hand, gripping it in his own lap before it could fly to you.

“There’s no way I could hide it. Someone at the party will say it…”

“Say what,” Buggy rasped after a long moment.

Your eyes poured over your men one more time before it was over.

“My name.”

Everyone paused, and you remembered Shanks was there. His face was a mask, unreadable, and you were grateful for another reason to ignore it.

“Are you saying that your name is a lie,” Crocodile asked in a dangerous purr.

“No. None of you ever asked what my last name was,” you pointed out, then laughed as you looked between them. “I guess pirates don’t really care about last names.”

The laughter died in your throat, tears streaming now in your moment of defeat.

“What’s your name,” Mihawk asked, his voice more gentle than you’d ever heard.

It’s over.

“Y/N Sylvad.”

…

“Like the wood company?”

You clamped your hands over your mouth, the shock of laughter that burst through you at Buggy’s confused face, his cute question, almost had you believing it would be alright.

But the other men in the room shifted. Crocodile pulled his arm away from the other two to rest his elbows on his knees, leaning toward you while he answered his clown.

“Not a company. A fucking empire. Sylvad’s Lumber and Shipping. Is that what you’re telling us right now?”

“Yes,” you breathed, already watching their eyes change. Already watching them forget who you were.

“Keep going,” he ordered, his words cold, ice building up around you.

“It’s not mine,” you begged them to believe you. “Dad died and…”

You couldn’t. You didn’t know where to start, or if it even mattered now.

“Arbo Sylvad was your dad,” Shanks murmured, sitting up a little straighter while he studied you.

“You’re Sylvad’s heiress.”

“No, I'm not,” you snapped at Mihawk, not caring when his golden eyes flared at you. “Uncle Cedrick got everything. Dad always said it would go to… I was fifteen when he…”

Crocodile’s silver eyes were like molten metal, and you choked on your grief as you watched him stand. He walked to that giant desk of his, and when he returned to drop your thick notebook in your lap, you flinched, bracing for pain.

“Unreliable,” he growled, tapping the notebook with his hook as he brought his eyes down to yours, his frightening face so close.

“Everything I said was true,” you pleaded, mind blanking out with fear while Mihawk came to touch Crocodile’s shoulder. He didn’t budge, and though your mouth went dry, you forced yourself to explain. “Those people are unreliable! They'd talk to people that could cause problems for the Guild. People with connections to the Marines.”

“Like your Uncle?”

“What do you mean, boss,” Buggy tried to redirect, his hand on the hook that was digging into the back of the chair, his body leaning against the larger man’s shoulder. “They just sell trees and stuff, right?”

“Every single Marine ship on the fucking water right now was built with Sylvad wood,” Crocodile fumed, Mihawk’s hand stroking along his arm as you shrank beneath those silver eyes. “Hells, almost every ship that sails out of Water 7 is built with that lumber.”

“I don’t get it,” Shanks complained from his chair, though you couldn’t see him past the angry man in front of you. “If you’re the heiress of Sylvad’s, why were you working? You were an accountant or something, right?”

“Investment banker,” Buggy bragged, and you almost smiled that he remembered. “My girl’s a fancy financial advisor.”

“Let’s give our girl some breathing room, Crocodile. We don’t know everything yet.”

You only heard Mihawk’s whispered words because Crocodile was a hair's breadth away. He brought his thumb to rub along one of your cheeks, and the back of his hook to smooth along the other.

“Tell daddy everything, alright, sweetheart?”

Your eyes fluttered shut until he pressed into your cheeks, slow tears falling from your eyes when you nodded for him.

“Yes, daddy.”

The warm kiss he pressed to your temple made you want to disappear. Nothing. Nothing ever again.

You were barely there as the words fell from your lips. Eyes unfocused, hanging loosely around the little table by Mihawk’s seat. You smiled to yourself when you realized it looked strange without a glass of wine on it.

“Dad died on a business trip. Freak storm. Left everything to Uncle Cedrick. Kat and I got our trust funds for school. Mom got nothing.”

“I think we’ll need more than that, little rabbit,” Mihawk cautioned as he glanced over at Crocodile's stern face.

“Can I have a drink fir–”

“No,” said the three men on the couch.

Holding your head in your hands for a bit, you tried to figure out how to say the least amount of painful words to get them to leave you alone.

“Uncle took us in. He was such a caring person, taking in his brother’s poor daughters, his lonely wife,” you spat, venom dripping from your lips. “I didn’t want to belong to him. My trust fund paid for the best education out there, but all my friends stopped… When they knew I had nothing to give them, they treated me like shit. I kept doing what I'm good at, and I got the fuck out. Went to go live that stupid, boring life.”

Growling with the frustration of spilling this pathetic, entitled trash, you stood to pace behind your chair, waving your notebook around as if you could make it burst into flames with your will alone.

“I am fucking amazing at my job, but most of these people just looove the thought of the poor little heiress helping them get richer. Most of them can’t wait to put me in their little collection. Add me to their fucking shelf. Just gotta ask Uncle how much his little niece– FUCK!”

The notebook went flying, skidding across the floor while you shoved the heavy chair over, yelling, raging, kicking that stupid green chair until your shoes fell off, your toes fucking hurt, until your clown stopped you.

“Baby, please,” he soothed, his upper body floating to keep your struggling form from reaching anything on the ground to hit. “It’s okay, star, I’m right here. Fuck those assholes, right? Who needs ‘em!”

Part of you felt guilty for not laughing at his sweet attempt, but the rest of you needed to fight or flee.

Flee from these powerful men that were already using you to make money.

“Put me down!”

Buggy’s whispered, “star,” hurt like hell. You held yourself still when he set you down gently, back in your spot as you faced the couch again, although your chair was kicked off to the side.

“Wanna know how high to set the ransom,” you challenged, your clenched fists shaking at your sides. You couldn’t think clearly enough to read their darkened eyes, even Buggy’s as he took his place between them. “Just so you know, Uncle doesn’t like me that much. He’d probably be happier if you killed me. Or you could buy me, that’d make him extra hap–”

Sand.

Sand flooded the space around you. It lifted you off the ground, and your breath caught as the coffee table got thrown to the side. You met those silver eyes just before you were in his arms, your legs stretched across the laps of the other men on the couch.

“What…” you wondered, mind in a daze.

“You thought I’d sell my sweet girl,” Crocodile hummed, kissing the top off your head.

“You told me you would,” you reminded, your body and mind feeling distant, separate from whatever this strange world had become. “How much am I worth? Just keep being valuable, useful? You were already gonna sell me or kill me before you knew what a goldmine I was.”

The icy anger that laced your words made every hand on you go still. Crocodile froze as he started to rock you, and your body couldn’t choose between guilt at hurting them, or anger and fear at what they would do.

“I think I’m drunk,” you whispered, wanting them to let you go, and wishing that they never would.

“No shit,” Buggy laughed, “I’m surprised you’re alive after that.”

His hands started massaging your legs on his lap, rubbing up and down nervously while you closed your eyes.

“Can I go lie down?”

“I’ll take you, star.”

Crocodile and Mihawk’s hands dragged along your skin as Buggy lifted you into the air, but neither stopped him from taking you. Neither stopped him from floating you away.

Neither called you pretty names as you left the room.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

“I’ve got you,” Buggy promised.

Getting her onto that giant bed felt like a race. Something was right behind him. Something would stop him.

Something would take her away again.

Finally there, he wrapped his arms around her, leaning against the headboard while her scotch scented breath warmed his chest.

“Your breath stinks, baby.”

Maybe it was a laugh, but that choked sound made his chest tight, like a huge hand was crushing his ribcage.

I can’t do anything. Fucking useless. Can’t help her.

“Buggy…”

“Shh, I’m right here, star,” he promised. The sound of his name on those quivering lips sent fire, rage, and guilt straight through him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He could never leave her. He could never leave her with them after this. Even if they…

Buggy kissed her temple, trying to be soothing while he waited for them to crash through the door.

Waited for them to take her from him.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

Not a sound.

Not a sound filled the air as the men in the lounge sat with the news that their little lover was the heiress of Sylvad’s.

Not a sound from the two men on the couch as her accusations weighed on them, as though she hadn’t left their laps with those angry, frightened tears in her eyes.

“That sure is something,” Shanks whistled softly. He stood to pick up Y/N’s chair, sitting across from them. “What are you gonna do with—“

“Find somewhere else to be,” Crocodile fumed, his body vibrating with the need to hurt something.

Shanks nodded, giving a crooked smile, before leaving them alone. Mihawk stared after his old friend, images of comfort he couldn’t provide burning behind his eyes.

He’s going to take them both.

Serves us right.

Crocodile’s angry huff pulled Mihawk out of those thoughts, watching the man stomp toward the bar. The coffee table his sand had moved laid in his path, until it splintered and scattered from the touch of his vicious foot in that lovely shoe.

The swordsman floated after him, still in a daze while the larger man imitated their girl, chugging a glass of scotch.

Mihawk stared, but didn’t speak, didn’t touch.

Crocodile set the glass down before he shattered another one.

“She lied—“

“Can you blame her,” Mihawk laughed coldly while the other man paced. Silver eyes shot like daggers, but Mihawk couldn’t seem to care about anything at the moment. “She told the truth, just not all—“

“She didn’t trust me.”

He sat again, staring at the floor after those stupid words had left him.

“I don’t…” Mihawk started, pushing himself to move, pushing himself to try. He sat down, and touched a hand to Crocodile’s shoulder, leaving it there after his scarred lover flinched. “We haven’t given her much reason to, have we?”

Not a sound after that.

~~~🐊🗡️🐊🗡️~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N! You can’t just leave,” Kat reasoned, pulling the clothes out of your hands before you could stuff them into your suitcase. “What about mom? What about the company?”

“Mom made her choices,” you growled, pulling the clothes back from your sister’s shaky hands. “And I don’t care about the fucking company. It’s not mine.”

“Not if—“

“It’s not mine. I’m sick of this fucking life. I’m getting out.”

“... What about me?”

That stopped you. But only for a moment.

“I’m sure he’d let you come if—“

“Are you fucking kidding me right now,” she shouted, pushing you toward your messy suitcases. “He’s a pirate! If he doesn’t hurt you before, what do you think he’ll do when he finds out who you are?”

“I don’t care,” you fumed as you stared your little sister down. “I'm bored of this stupid life.”

Kat’s mouth hung open, the hurt and pain in her eyes making you want to take it all back, to beg for forgiveness.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t waste this chance to be free.

“You really have a death wish, you know that? That clown is going to get you killed,” Kat breathed, her voice growing colder as she turned to leave. She didn’t look back when she said her goodbye, just waved her hand over her shoulder. “I’ll look out for the ransom note.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Sleep?

Sleep.

Burning sleep, and stormy seas.

Dad’s voice calling for you.

You could never find him before the ship went under, before all that Sylvad wood splintered beneath the raging waves.

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buzz off, idiot,” Buggy ordered in a harsh whisper, Shanks’ smiling face peeking through the cracked door. Buggy had left his body on the bed to hold Y/N as she whimpered, nightmares ruining her scotch and stress induced nap.

His head floated by the door, frowning at his old friend.

“It’ll just be a second, Bugs, I swear.”

Shanks’ smile stretched even wider when Buggy agreed, floating his head out into the corridor.

“This better be good, asshat.”

Shanks felt it. This was it. He could have them both.

He needed them both.

“Let’s take her with us, Bugs.”

Buggy’s look of shock was exaggerated by those red lips of his, and Shanks had to hold himself back from kissing them.

“But she… but it’s dangerous…”

Buggy wasn’t sure he’d actually heard those words, or if he’d fallen asleep, dreaming beside his star. Too many emotions rushed through him, but all he could think about was her.

“Would you rather leave her here with them,” Shanks rasped, his eyes doing that heavy thing they do, although there wasn’t much of Buggy’s body to drag them down. “We can protect her. You and me, Bugs.”

The clown had to fight his body to stay still as he held her in the other room. The need to move, to fidget, to pace, made him dizzy.

“What if she doesn’t wanna go,” Buggy wondered. Images of Y/N smiling, laughing, screaming, flew through his mind, each one making him doubt that he could ever make her as happy as she’d seemed once things had started to settle here.

“I already asked her. I know she’ll say yes. She wants you to be happy, Bugs. Just like I do,” Shanks confessed, brushing a bit of blue hair out of Buggy’s face. He rubbed his thumb across those red, parted lips.

So close to everything.

“When did—“

“Buggy?”

Shanks watched his clown fly away from him, hopeful that it’d be the last time.

Buggy flew away from his old friend, every confusing thought going blank besides the need to comfort that soft, scared voice.

“Right here, got you, baby.”

~~~🤡🔴🤡🔴~~~

“Buggy,” you whimpered as new tears fell.

“Shh, you’re okay. Everything’s okay.”

Painted lips covered your face, kissing your tears away until you shivered, his soothing hum blocking out everything else.

His touch kept it all at bay.

Every split second of memory was grief, so you curled against him, running your hand along his side. Your body writhed, whining for him as he stroked your hair and back, then pulled away.

“Hey, star, it’s o—“

“Please, touch me, Buggy,” you begged as you reached for him. “I need you so much, I need you…”

Pathetic grief poured back in at the memory of what you’d witnessed last night, but you couldn’t fight your need for him.

“Please, touch me.”

“Just tell me if it’s alright, okay, star," he breathed after pausing to study your face, tracing his fingers along your cheeks.

“Please,” you gasped, his lips on your neck were saving your life. Saving you from your mind.

A touch against Mihawk’s tender bite mark brought the world back, but then Buggy was tearing you both out of your clothes, kissing down your arms, your chest, your stomach. Kissing every inch of your skin until you were crying with need instead of pain.

Begging, begging for more.

“Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll take care of you, star.”

“Bug—“

Breathy, desperate moans left your throat as his fingers plunged deep inside you, and he swallowed the rest of your sounds in a wild kiss. His tongue was eating, tasting, and you almost laughed into his mouth at the memory of scotch, until his free hand found your clit.

The fingers inside you were perfect, knowing exactly what you needed. Finding that spot, giving you steady touches that built in pressure and speed until you were clenching around his fingers, body shaking with pleasure and gratitude.

“So beautiful,” Buggy praised, his voice full of a quiet awe as he smiled down at you. “You okay, baby?”

“Fuck me, Buggy,” you pleaded as your weak arms failed to pull him closer. “I need you inside me. Need to feel you.”

His eyes were wide, concerned, but he smiled when he kissed you.

Smiled when he gave you everything you needed.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

How?

How can she be real?

How can she want me this much?

Want me after everything…

Buggy pushed those thoughts aside as he smoothed his ungloved hands down her body.

Hands that he felt safe letting her touch. Just like his bare face that he could let her see.

He let out his own soft, needy noise as he watched her writhe and squirm, begging for him to touch her.

“Fuck,” he hissed, just the touch of her perfect, dripping pussy against his sensitive tip was too much. Too much as he lined himself up.

“Look at me, Buggy,” Y/N cried out, her watery eyes swallowing him whole, just as he sank his cock deeper and deeper. He couldn’t hold in his moans at the pure fucking bliss that she held inside her, that she let him feel.

“Look at me, please.”

Buggy kept his eyes on hers, her request setting off alarm bells in his mind that he had to shut down, throw out.

She wants to look at me like this. She wants to see my face. There’s only one per—

“Buggy! I’m close, please,” she panicked, reaching up into his hair, pulling gently as her breathing went ragged. “Need to feel you, want you so bad.”

“I want you too, star, I’m right— oh gods, baby. Fuck, you feel soo good…”

Y/N screamed his name.

His name.

Over and over while he shoved his cock as far as he could go, claiming that sweet, warm pleasure she let him take.

Y/N pulled him in, her body made to take his come, made to milk him, to drain him, to let him fuck it back into her while she babbled, while her eyes crossed, while that cute little tongue hung out of her perfect lips.

All for him.

Still sunk deep inside her, Buggy soothed and calmed her frantic noises, kissing her temple.

“I love you so much. My shining star.”

What a feeling to say those words. What a feeling to mean them. To have someone to say them to.

“I love you, Buggy. I love you so much.”

What a feeling.

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

a/n: I've been so nervous to add anything new to this world. I hope you don't mind some back story. And some Buggy time 😭😭😭

Part 20

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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f1fnatic · 1 year ago

Text

SCRUTINY ⤿ f1 grid

→ ( in which. . . ) you are a woman on the f1 grid. you face criticism and digs almost every day from toxic fans, specifically the men. but, you shut them up after a rewarding race.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) 2023 f1 grid x female!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) cyberbullying, misogyny, sexism/sexist comments, overall a shitty environment. not based on this year's monaco grand prix or the season so far just has the drivers of this year's grid at this moment except alonso he is a reserve for aston martin, jumps around a little, not a completely solid plot, other pilots make subtle mentions, but mainly reader focused.

→ ( author's note. . . ) i enjoyed writing this one a lot. with being a woman myself and seeing how we are perceived in sports, especially a male-dominated field like motorsport, it was not very difficult to keep writing. anyways, i hope you enjoy! see end for more.

→ ( masterlist )

sunday, pre-race interview ↴

scrutiny. a word that you are familiar with. a word that has so much meaning but so little at the same time. you had recently joined your dream team, aston martin. after a challenging run in f3 and f2, you finally got recognized for your talent. you knew the comments would only get worse as you moved up the ranks, but you didn't expect them to be this bad.

it was the monaco grand prix. your least favorite track to race. the tight corners haunted you. without fail, you always almost crashed and cost your team everything. but it mainly cost you your dignity.

you were sat along a crisp white sofa that sat your teammate lance stroll, along with charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, lando norris, daniel ricciardo, and lastly max verstappen. you had all become acquainted when you first got to f1. lance and you got along swell and were close to inseparable. the rest were like brothers to you. these types of conferences were your personal least favorite. you enjoyed being with your friends, but the questions that were asked were downright embarrassing.

"y/n, coming over to you." the interviewer voiced, all attention was shifted onto you. "monaco in the past years has not treated you well, do you think you will have another devastating grand prix? and do you think your difference has to do with your performance?" you felt the scoff bubble in your throat. was he serious? you knew what he was playing at. your difference being your gender.

"well, first of all, i do not think my quote en quote 'difference' has anything to do with my performance." you start, putting finger quotes to emphasize the word difference. "if anything, it would be a difference in the car. in past monaco grand prix's the aston martin car has struggled. there are no real straights for the car to get its usual speed from. the differences in the care have nothing to do with me as a driver." this was unbelievable. were they really questioning whether you could hold your own as a woman in motorsport?

"you are starting p7 in today's race. do you think you performed well enough in qualifying? what could you have done differently?" finally. a normal question. you were excited to answer.

"uh, yeah. i think considering the conditions in qualifying and the nature of the track i did well. i am happy with how i performed but there is always room for improvement. and i am open to that." you answered, smiling. you looked over to lewis and saw him smiling at you. he knew how the media worked. he himself was getting pushed under the bus with racist remarks and 'concern' around his piercings. he was always supportive of you, and you were supportive of him. there were often times when you would text or call him ranting about how unfair it was that you were being treated the way you were. he would join in with his own stories and you would listen.

"y/n, i am sure you have seen the scrutiny online about being a woman competing in the pinnacle of motorsport. do you believe you should be here competing with men?" another reporter asks.

you are stunned. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

"are you serious?" lance scoffs beside you. "what is with these questions?"

"why do we get questions about normal things like our literal jobs and y/n's questions are always about her gender?" daniel adds. the couch breaks out in murmurs. the reporters visibly get uncomfortable with what has happened and end the interview.

standing up you walk out of the office and to your drivers room, ignorning the voices calling after you. these interviews were always bullshit. daniel was right, why were you always getting questioned about your gender and how that effects your performance? what does gender have to do with racing?

this was only the beginning.

sunday, day of monaco grand prix ↴

you were exhausted. exhausted by the comments, the bullshit interviews, and the stupid prick men that felt the need to voice their opinion about a woman in f1.

you could this year's grand prix was going to be a tough one. mentally and physically. you wanted to be done. done with the bullying, the sexism, the misogyny, everything. you knew you worked hard to get where you are, and you will continue to. you dreaded the after-race interviews. no matter your result, you would always get at least 4 sexist remarks.

you didn't know what else you needed to do to be able to prove yourself worthy of your seat. you shouldn't have to prove yourself anymore than you have. you are in f1, and all of these assholes are not.

your pr manager, bless his soul, had to listen to your rants after interviews. lewis always got brunt end of it as well. he had experience with degradating comments. he always knew what to say and when to say it. fernando has been a huge help as well. he was like a father to you, always there when you needed someone. he would defend you when you needed defending. he always knew what to say and when to say it.

race start, p7 ↴

p7 was not a bad place to start, at all. but the internet and crowd thought differently. you were sat in your car, ready for the formation lap when someone yelled at you, "c'mon pretty lady! get back to cleaning! this is a man's sport!" you resisted the urge to quip back at him, instead you raised your left hand and flipped him off. your pr manager would have your head later but you couldn't care less. you needed to do something to voice your annoyance.

concentration is what you needed, but you couldn't seem to gain it with more comments being shouted your way. "hot momma!" followed by a cat call whistle, "sweetheart take off that suit! let's see what's underneath!", "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THIS JOB!" were only some of the handfuls thrown at you. they also seemed to be the ones that bothered you the most. your grip on your steering wheel tightened, anger bubbling in your gut. these people knew nothing. they don't know how hard you work. they don't know how much blood, sweat, and tears you poured into achieving your dream. and they never would.

before you knew it, the formation lap started. it went quickly. you got back into your respective starting positions and stared down the lights. you took a deep breath to attempt to ground yourself. it is just a race, you have done this before y/n.

the lights lit up red, until they didn't. you flew forward in your aston martin, pushing it for a decent start. you ended up gaining two positions, going from p7 to p5. the rest of the race was uneventful, until it wasn't.

"y/n, caution on the chicane. hamilton, perez, and leclerc crashed. yellow flag, safety car." your race engineer voiced over the radio. "that moves you into a fortunate p2."

"okay, copy." you were ecstatic. this was your chance to prove yourself to everyone. to those men who scrutinized you before the formation lap, to the trolls online, and to those misogynistic pricks known as reporters. this was your moment.

"gap to verstappen 1.6 seconds, push." you did as you were told. you pushed, and you pushed hard. this was for all of the girls that wanted to be you. "oh my days y/n! p1! p1! you just won the monaco grand prix!"

"yes! oh my god! fuck me! we did it!" you had done it.

you did your victory lap and parked behind the p1 tower. when you got out of your seat tears stung at your eyes. you ran over to where the aston martin team was and hugged them over the barrier. team members were banging on your helmet. lance had managed p2 and came up behind you and hugged you, along with the team.

the podium was a blur. you could not describe the emotions you were feeling. pride, excitement, and most of all, happiness were swirling within you. you stood tall as aston martin's anthem played and even taller when yours sounded shortly after. the champagne spray was the best part. carelessly spraying lance as giggles sounded on the podium. you also sprayed your team below, this would not have been possible without them. you would never forget this moment. it is forever engraved into your mind.

this was it, this was what you needed to prove them all wrong.

not feeling super happy w this one. i like the beginning but i feel it gets away from me in the middle and end. feedback and requests are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well, only if u want to tho! lmk if you like it :)

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causeilikelix · 5 months ago

Text

Rose Garden - Part Two

↳Pairing: Prince!Lee Know x Maid!afab reader

↳Words: 12,500~ (oops)

↳Warnings: SMUT obviously so as always minors DNI, unprotected sex (don't do this! but its not like these two had any other choice), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie, overall very vanilla stuff. Mentions of nausea but no one does on-screen. (For someone with emetophobia, I write about nausea a lot). Pregnancy scare?, ANGST

If there's anything else I missed, let me know!

TAGLIST: @ohmy-moonlightx , @junebug032 , @giyusatorou , @skzfelixlove , @kittkat44 , @nap-of-a-starr, @ventitto , @blankdyean , @lethallyprotected , @poisonivy21 , @nobody3210 , @chuuswifereal , @hisokasimp1, @lookitsjess

(Strikethrough means unable to tag, if I forgot someone or would like to be added then please let me know!)

↳Notes: I finished this first week of May then got taken out by a mystery illness for basically the whole month (respiratory infection I think). Anyway, today is my 27th birthday so I am giving all of you a gift!

PART ONE

↳Ready on my AO3: Here

“CAN’T YOU BE more gentle?” You groaned as your ribcage tightened. With every tug of the laces on that infernal corset, your ribs condensed and your breasts swelled. You could have sworn that a seamstress could thread you through a needle at this rate. You often wore a corset of your own to work, but it was more for general support than to actually suck you into the point of suffocation. The whale bone threaded through the offensive garment assured you that once you were in, nothing would move.

“That’s how this works, Y/N. You should know, you entrap me in my corset every morning.” Joy muttered through gritted teeth. Her fingers worked on the laces to make sure they were perfectly snug and not going anywhere. “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

“I can hardly breathe.” You gasped out.

“Maybe so but you will be the picture of perfection. This dress is going to look amazing on you.” Joy promised.

Your eyes darted to the dress laid out on the bed. For the day, the queen had assigned guest quarters to every visiting lady with the invitation to spend the night if it fit in the travel plans. Joy, of course, had jumped at the opportunity for a night away from home. Especially if that night was to be spent dancing away at the palace. That meant the pair of you had a private bedroom that could be used to change your identity. The grand four-poster bed was large enough to sleep four comfortably. You had a feeling that she would insist on sharing the bed with you. Poor thing never did like sleeping alone. You didn’t mind.

“What is wrong with you?” You panted. Your lungs worked overtime to get used to being in such a compact space. “How can you people wear this all the time?”

“They train us young.” Joy muttered. “Aha! Done! Let’s get you into this gown, shall we?”

Before you knew it, you were drowning in a sea of blue and pink fabric. The skirts were never ending and created a full ball gown silhouette, though your bone underskirt held most of the fabric away from your legs. The gown was made of rich peacock-blue silk and layers of delicate tulle that sparkled and shimmered under the light. Silver lace appliques decorated the bodice and the top half of the skirt. Some light tulle fabric hung just off your shoulders, creating a sweetheart off-the-shoulder neckline. You had to admit that the colors were absolutely stunning. It didn’t feel right that someone like you should wear a gown so beautiful.

However, once the garment was secured in place with some lacing, you fell in love with it. The gown hugged your waist and pushed your breasts up just enough. The skirts swished when you moved and glittered in the light.

“Y/N,” Joy breathed, “You look beautiful. Come, let me do your hair and put on your jewelry.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one getting you ready?” You asked as Joy guided you to sit down at the vanity.

“There is time for that. There’s no harm in being a little late if we need to. The ball will undoubtedly go all night.” Joy waved it off. She pointed at a hairbrush on the table and you passed it over your shoulder to her. “All of that playing dress up when we were kids was totally worth it.”

“Ow…” You muttered under your breath as Joy brushed out the tangles in your hair.

“I wonder who the Queen chose to be the princess. Surely it’s not me or we would have received some sort of notification.” Joy mused as she ran the brush through your hair. “I wonder why they would have all of these lavish parties if they’re not going to choose one of the ladies who attends them. Whoever the princess is surely is very lucky. Prince Minho is quite handsome and I’m sure he will make beautiful babies and-”

“Miss Joy. My apologies but I’m nervous enough as it is. I’m terrified of being in the same room as the prince.” You cut her off, wincing as you did so. Your training clearly specified never to interrupt your lady but all this talk of Prince Minho marrying someone else was beginning to make your heart feel heavy in your chest.

You hadn’t found the time to tell Joy about what happened. You wanted to scream it out to the world that Prince Minho was your soulmate but there was no telling if anyone would even believe you. When you first met him, he was trying to escape from his duty but after he fucked you he dove head-first into it. You wondered if someone could die from having their soulmate marry someone else.

In the end, it would all come down to if Prince Minho would confirm the fact that you were soulmates. If he were to deny you then you would have to live your life without your other half. The difference in status would make any kind of relationship difficult regardless of Prince Minho’s feelings.

You weren’t sure if you had the strength to go through with this facade but you were already dressed. You’d already made the decision. You couldn’t back down now. The dress was on and Joy was carefully putting your hair in a simple updo. She took a few pins from the hair kit you brought for her. Each pin had a diamond on the end. The hairdo you had planned for Joy would use most of the pins, so as she worked on your hair you tried to think of what style you could do instead.

“Y/N, are you okay? Your head is up in the clouds.” Joy’s voice softened.

“Yes, miss. I am merely thinking about what hairstyle to do for you.”

“No, I don’t think you are. You’ve been gone since Prince Minho’s appearance at tea. Are you alright?”

“Miss… I don’t know. I feel strange. I think me coming with you was a terrible idea.”

“What? How could you say that! I don’t know what I would do without you by my side!.”

“If I hadn’t come then I never would have-” You paused to blink back your tears. Joy paused her styling with a quiet gasp, “I never would have met…”

“Who is it?” Joy whispered knowingly.

“I can’t tell you. It would ruin...”

“Y/N, dear, please tell me.” Joy moved to your side and bent over to be at your level, “I promise there is nothing you could say that would make me think less of you.”

“It’s not me it would ruin. It’s him. He and I can never be together.”

“Y/N, please.” Joy reached up and gently brushed away a few of the tears that had escaped your eyes. You couldn’t stop crying. “Tell me and maybe I can help you.”

You looked her in the eye, hoping that maybe she could read your mind. You and Joy had been friends for as long as you could remember. You grew up in the same house. Your mother was Joy’s mother’s maid. You, in turn, became Joy’s. Even as a maid, Joy always preferred to treat you as a friend.

To no avail. Joy remained clueless.

“He’s…” you took a deep breath, “My soulmate is… Prince Minho.”

Joy’s jaw dropped. She stumbled back a bit and sat down hard on the bed. She stared at you with wide eyes. If only, that made you cry harder. At this rate she would never allow you to go to the ball. Who in their right mind would let you attend a ball when your soulmate was the prince?

“Do not lie to me, Y/N.” Joy warned.

“Have you ever known me to lie to you?”

“I suppose not. You’re sure it’s him?”

“After what we did in the garden, I would know him anywhere.”

“My god, you performed the soulmate act already?” Joy gawked, her eyes swimming with questions. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know…”

“I am asking as a friend, Y/N, but I will ask as your lady if I have to.”

“Okay, well… I wandered off. I didn’t mean to! But I needed a break from the sun and-”

You told her the story from beginning to finish. Meeting him in the garden and thinking he was the gardener, the accidental touch, the intensity of the soulmate act, and the way he’d turned cold afterwards. You explained how you’d searched for him and how your stomach had churned when he was announced as the Prince.

“It’s all hopeless!” You wailed, dropping your tear-stained cheeks into your hands, “We can never be together. After tonight I may never see him again!”

“Perhaps not… But what say you to see if we can get you two to meet one last time. At least share some words, a kiss, something!”

“How would we do that? He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know my name or anything.”

“You’re going to the ball tonight, of course he’ll find you! If he doesn’t then I will speak to him. I will tell him his angel is looking for him. Come on, my dear, let’s get you looking perfect!”

~!~!~!~!~!~

YOU WERE CERTAIN that you were going to pass out at any moment. The corset was bound too tightly and it was as if you were walking through hell’s inferno. In reality you were only walking down a long corridor warmed with fireplaces, but it may as well have been the same thing.

A finely dressed butler escorted you and Joy through the palace to the ballroom. Joy held your hand as you walked, her grip like an iron vice. She looked beautiful. Once it was your turn to make her up, her hair was worthy of the princess’s tiara. Her forest green ballgown was made of the finest silk that rippled like water when she walked. She held her head high and turned to look at you with a bright smile.

“You would fit right in here.” Joy whispered lowly so the butler couldn’t hear your conversation.

“Maybe in the kitchens.” You sighed. “You look more like a princess than I do.”

“Nonsense. I wasn’t born to be a princess, unlike you.”

“Lady Joy, I definitely was not born to be a princess. Maybe the gods made a mistake. They’ve been known to do that, right?”

“There is no way this is a mistake. It’s clear that you belong here! You’re the most beautiful noblewoman I’ve ever seen, cousin!” Joy squeezed your hand pointedly.

Muffled music played through the doors and you suddenly felt sick. You pressed a hand to your stomach and stopped walking. Joy stopped as well. The butler continued on for a few steps before realizing that you weren’t following.

“I can’t do this.”

“Y/N! Are you with child?” Joy whispered and nodded to the hand on your stomach.

“What? No! It only happened this afternoon. It takes longer to develop a child. I’m just sick to my stomach.”

“It’s only nerves. Once we get into the ballroom, everything will be okay. We’ll dance a little bit and then we’ll enact the plan, alright?”

“I can’t. This was a terrible idea, let me go back to the room and-”

“No! Y/N, no! Just take a deep breath. I’ll be right there by your side the entire time.” Joy promised, “Let’s go.”

She pulled you along and the butler continued leading you through the palace. The music got louder and louder until the butler paused at a large set of double doors. Joy turned to smile at you one last time before looking forward.

A pair of butlers opened the doors, revealing a lavish, golden ballroom. Several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling with candles casting flickering rainbows on the walls. The dance floor was packed with ladies and gentlemen alike, dancing away in celebration. A handful of musicians played a waltz.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to a raised platform at the back of the room. A triad of ornate golden thrones with purple velvet and diamonds were perched atop. In the center throne, a woman in an enormous embroidered gown with a huge crown atop her head tapped her fingers to the time of the music; the Queen. To her left sat the young princess, no older than fifteen but old enough to be at her brother’s party. She stared out into the crowd with a polite smile. Then, your gaze landed on the man you wanted to see.

Prince Minho sat to his mother’s right. He wore the same outfit as before, except he’d taken his crown off and hung it off one of the posters of his throne. He lounged a bit in his chair, not really paying attention to anyone around him. He sipped on a goblet of wine. The prince, instead, stared at the ceiling.

He looked just as beautiful as the moment you first saw him. Something about the candlelight made his skin glow.

You sucked in a breath when you laid eyes on him. It took every ounce of self control in your body and Joy’s hand to keep you from running through the ballroom to be with him. Something tugged on your heart like an invisible string, urging you forward.

When you stepped through the door into the ballroom, Prince Minho cocked his head suddenly. He turned his gaze away from the ceiling and scanned the throngs of dancing people. He scoured the dancers before turning his attention to the walls. Servants were stationed by the wall or in the corners where they couldn’t be easily seen unless you were looking for them. Just out of sight, but there in case they were needed. Prince Minho searched the face of each one until his gaze passed over the doors you’d just walked through.

Then came the double take. He looked on the other side of the room for a moment before turning his head back in your direction.

When you made eye contact, you gasped and gripped Joy’s hand a little tighter. Joy immediately snapped her head to look at the prince. She followed his gaze and found you as the person in question. He raised an eyebrow in question but said nothing. He knew your true stature but he was in no position to tell anyone anyway.

“Come, let’s find something to eat. You need your energy.” Joy whispered, pulling your attention away from the Prince.

“But… Prince Minho…”

“There will be time for that. We have hours before the Prince will retire. He’s seen you, so there is no doubt in my mind that he will seek you out.” Joy assured you.

She pulled you through the ballroom to a dining room. There were several tables lined with food piled high on silver platters. Dishes like pork, chicken, rolls, roasted vegetables, you name it. Instantly, your mouth watered. You could not remember the last time you broke fast and your dehydration this morning left you with a pounding headache.

“I am pretty hungry…” You mused.

“Let’s get you something to eat and then I’ll tell you everything about my plan.”

~!~!~!~!~!~

JOY’S SUGGESTION DIDN’T sit right with you at first, but she eventually convinced you to dance with the very first man who asked. You’d barely caught the man’s name, Christopher something-or-other. He was staggeringly handsome, though he could hold no candle to your Destined.

Christopher spun you around the dancefloor for two whole dances. He was careful to keep his touches over your clothes but you noticed that his eyes kept dipping down to your mouth and to the swell of your breasts out of the dress. You wore long silver satin gloves up to your forearms, as was the fashion and the social assurance that no one could find their soulmate at these social events unless you tried really hard.

At the end of the second dance, a whirlwind of a waltz (where you definitely stepped on his foot more than once), you were beginning to feel a little out of breath. Joy was off dancing with another man, a complete heartthrob who had introduced himself as Peter. Joy had promised that she would watch you all evening, but Peter had her absolutely captivated.

Christopher gazed down at you with big, brown puppy dog eyes. He pursed his lips before opening his mouth to ask you to dance a third time. However, a terse voice cut through the atmosphere.

“Sir Christopher, do you mind if I cut in?” The voice sent a shiver down your spine. You would recognize it, recognize him, anywhere.

“Oh. Um, of course, Sire.” Christopher bowed before disappearing into the crowd.

Prince Minho took his place in front of you. You looked at him for a moment before dropping into a deep curtsy. Your eyes turned to the floor. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you thought you might faint.

In an instant, Prince Minho was touching you. He put his hands on your shoulders to pull you out of the curtsy and one of his hands moved to your chin. With his soft fingers, he guided your face until you were looking directly into his eyes. The same grief from this afternoon clouded them and his eyebrows were pulled together.

The music started and other couples around you began to dance. Skirts swirled, girls giggled, shoes tapped on the wooden dance floor. However, none of that mattered. The outside world became a blur until the only thing you could see was the man in front of you.

He called you an angel before, but you were certain that the angel was actually Prince Minho. He glowed under the candlelight and his crown looked like a halo. Prince Minho grasped your waist and took your hand. You gasped at the contact.

“Take my arm.” He commanded. You quickly set your hand on his shoulder.

Before you knew it, Prince Minho spun you into the crowd of dancers. How he managed to lead without taking his eyes off yours, you may never know. You had so many questions but you had absolutely no idea where to even begin. All you knew for sure is that this would most likely be the last time you ever saw him.

“What’s your name?” Prince Minho asked.

“Y/N.”

“Beautiful. I knew your name would be beautiful.” A smile played on his lips, “How did you manage to come tonight? I thought you were a ladies maid.”

“I am. Lady Joy is more a friend than a lady. We grew up together. She asked me to come with her tonight.” You explained, your voice weak.

“Damn. I’d hoped that perhaps you’d fooled me in the garden. If you were a lady then my mother might have allowed us to marry.”

“Couldn’t we still pretend?”

“My mother, the Queen, is very resourceful. She would look into your family and find that you’re of common birth. Unless, of course, you can provide undeniable proof of noble birth.”

“I’m afraid I don’t think that will be possible.” Tears brimmed in your eyes at the thought.

You couldn’t explain it but your heart swelled with affection for him. You barely even know the man. However, you could practically feel every cell in your body aching for him and needing to be with him. His touch sent bolts of lighting through your veins. His lips were eye level with you and all you wanted to do was claim them as yours. Party-goers and the Queen be damned. This man was your soulmate and you wanted everyone to know.

“My love,” Prince Minho smiled sadly and moved his hand from your waist in order to brush away a tear that had fallen. He replaced his hand before you could fall out of step with the dance. “We will find a way. Maybe it won’t be today but I must have you by my side. I want to know everything about you. Please, my angel, don’t think of this as an ending. Merely a rocky and uncertain beginning.”

“How can you be optimistic about this?”

“I am a prince. We have a way of getting things done.” Prince Minho smiled warmly. The assurance that he was feeling the same way as you in this absurd situation made your heart ache a little less. “Dance the night away with me, my love.”

How could you possibly refuse him?

You spent the next three dances in the circle of your prince’s arms. Sir Christopher asked for your hand for one dance but Prince Minho stole you away the moment it was over. You twirled around the ballroom, talking and laughing with one another. He searched your mind, asking about your past, your family, your life. He wanted to know your favorite meals, your favorite colors, artists, and flowers. He, in turn, told you all about his favorites.

More and more things began to line up between the two of you. With every new thing in common, it became extremely apparent why he was your soulmate. He was your perfect match in every way. He was everything you ever could have wanted in a life partner. He was charming, witty, a fantastic dancer, and he cared deeply about his country and his duties.

Eventually, Prince Minho led you from the dance floor and onto the terrace outside. The air was cool against your skin and you hadn’t realized you’d been sweating. The party continued behind you, grand and gold. There were three sets of tall glass doors that were propped open between the terrace and the ballroom. There were fewer people outside, so it gave you and your Prince a quieter place to talk.

And talk you did. For hours it seemed, you spoke and shared things about your life. There wasn’t much for you to share but you wanted to know every detail about him.

“You must be dreading your marriage.” You sighed.

“I am… but I know it must be done. The last thing I want is to be with someone who isn’t my soulmate. However, I understand that it is what I must do. My father would have wanted me to do the same as him.” Prince Minho explained. “In the garden earlier, I was prepared to run away from it all. I still wish I could escape. However, now I know that I cannot escape my duty.”

“The same as your father? What do you mean by that?” You asked. You bit down the stinging pain in your chest from all the talk of him marrying another. Though, you had to admit that it made sense.

“My mother was not his soulmate, you see. He never told me who it was but I’m not sure that they ever got to be together before he died.”

“Your parents managed to have children, though! That is an accomplishment! I heard that fertility rates between non-soulmates is very low.”

“I think it worked because my mother has never met her soulmate. She truly loved my father and I believe that it was her love that made my sister and I come into existence. Or maybe it was pure luck.”

“Do you believe in true love? Love that isn’t born of soulmates?”

“Well, I suppose I’ve never thought about it. I don’t think that I have ever loved anyone before. I fancied a few of the ladies when I was younger, but I always knew that I would either find my soulmate one day or I would have to live without them.” Prince Minho gazed out into the garden. The paths were lined with torches that cast a golden glow on the ground. Two or three lone couples strolled through the garden.

“I apologize, My Prince. We can discuss something else.”

“Angel, it is alright. There is no way you could upset me.” Prince Minho assured you.

He reached out and cupped your cheek with his hand. He guided your head to make sure you were looking directly into his eyes. “This situation is less than ideal but it is in no way your fault. It’s crazy. It feels as if I’ve known you all my life.”

“I know… I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Minho guided your face a little closer to his and pressed a fleeting kiss onto your cheek. His soft lips lingered on your skin for a few long seconds. His musky scent filled your nose and overwhelmed your senses. You closed your eyes and breathed him in. Something deep in your core wished that he would have kissed your lips instead.

However, all good things come to an end.

“HEAR YE, HEAR YE.” A voice boomed from inside the ballroom, “ALL SUBJECTS APPEAR BEFORE THE QUEEN FOR AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT.”

Prince Minho pulled away from you and looked towards the ballroom. The music had stopped and all of the guests were venturing towards the center of the room to listen to the announcement. He turned to look back at you.

“It’s time, my love.” Prince Minho offered you his hand.

Your lower lip quivered and you blinked back the tears brimming in your eyes. You stared at his hand. You forced yourself to swallow a sob. Gently, you took his hand. He led you back into the ballroom. The stifling heat made it nearly impossible to breathe. Your chest ached. Your heart pounded in your ears.

Once you got deep enough into the room, Prince Minho pulled you to a careful stop. He looked deeply into your eyes for a few long seconds. You stared back, desperately trying to memorize the way his eyes glowed like honey in the candle light. They sparkled a little and with a start you wondered if he was about to cry.

“I’m going to miss you.” He whispered.

“And I you.”

He gently pulled you closer. You thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you. The air between you thinned as his face inched closer. He cupped your cheek in his hand and pressed your foreheads together.

“Your lady is Lady Joy, correct?”

“Lady Joy Park.” You affirmed.

“I will send for you this evening, my love. Fear not, this will not be the last time we see each other.”

With that, he vanished into the crowd. His hand dropped from your face and he let go of your hand. The other guests of the party bustled around you. The air in the ballroom ran hot, but you shivered. You searched the faces around you desperately, hoping that perhaps he would emerge from the crowd and come back to you.

Prince Minho did emerge from the crowd, but only when he stepped back up onto the platform and reclaimed his throne. His stoic face was set and he stared blankly into the crowd. Your eyes welled up with tears and you blinked to try to keep them at bay.

How were you supposed to go on without your soulmate? All you wanted to do was run up to the throne and tell the entire room that he was yours and that no one else could have him.

Almost as if she read your thoughts, Lady Joy appeared at your side. She took your hand and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“How did it go?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

The Queen cleared her throat so loudly the chandeliers quivered. She rose to her feet and instantly all chatter in the room ceased. Someone coughed.

“It is with regret that I inform you that our dear prince has not found his soulmate.” The Queen began, “Despite all of our efforts to find his destined partner we were unsuccessful. However, we still have call for celebration this evening. I am happy to announce Prince Minho’s betrothal to Princess Anna from the Roman Kingdom! The nuptials will be held next week and invitations to the event and the following balls will be sent henceforth! They will honeymoon on the island Sicily, where our dear princess was born before they return home to us. Please, let us congratulate the lucky couple!”

Everyone in the room applauded politely. Prince Minho rose to his feet and bowed before sitting back down.

You were absolutely positive that you were going to be sick.

“Lady Joy?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Get me out of here.”

Joy wasted no time.

She tugged on your hand, urging you to follow her. She weaved through the crowd of people. On your way, the man you remembered as Lord Peter stopped Lady Joy. They whispered to each other for a few seconds, including something about a promise to see each other again soon. With that, Joy set off again. Lady Joy beelined towards the doors and urged the guards to open them. They gave her a puzzled look, but followed her silent command.

Your lady pulled you into the hallway and you couldn’t help but glance back one more time. To your relief, or perhaps horror, Prince Minho noticed the opening of the door and his gaze found you immediately. You locked eyes one last time before Lady Joy led you down the hall, out of sight.

The heavy doors slid shut behind you, the heavy thud making you wince.

How were you supposed to leave Prince Minho behind you?

~!~!~!~!~!~

“IS SHE QUITE well?” The butler’s concerned voice carried through the large bedroom. You heard him even over your crying. You sobbed into the pillow that was damp with your tears and yet you couldn’t stop. Your body shook with crying and you could not seem to stop it. Lady Joy stood at the door, accepting a pile of dry pillows that she’d requested after you’d dampened all of the others with your tears.

“She is well, do not worry.” Lay Joy assured him.

“Should I send for a doctor?”

“Heartbreak is something a doctor cannot fix, I’m afraid. I will call for you if we require anything else.”

With that, Lady Joy shut the door and made her way back to the bed. She tossed the pillows at the foot of the bed before climbing under the luxurious duvet with you. She wrestled with the neverending fabric of the blankets and her nightgown before she settled in and returned her attention to you.

Both of you had changed out of your ballgowns as soon as you’d returned to your quarters. You managed to hold back your tears just long enough to get out of your corset. Then the waterfall began and hadn’t stopped. Joy did her best. Supplying you with things to dry your eyes and drink to keep your body from drying up but there was only so much she could do.

You told her everything. You told her about the dancing, about your conversations, and about how Prince Minho promised that he would call for you. What made it worse is that it was hours ago. You’d already gone through at least half a candle, if not more. The music from the ball could be heard faintly through the window.

“Perhaps he’s still there. It would be rude of the host to leave prematurely.” Joy reminded you.

“I can’t help it! I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, I wish I could help you.” Joy gently stroked your hair.

“Will the pain fade?”

“Perhaps with time. It’s getting late, Y/N… you look exhausted. Let’s try to sleep okay? In the morning we can escape from this wretched place.”

Your eyes ached from crying. Your cheeks were sticky with tears. Joy grabbed one of the dry pillows from the end of the bed and replaced the one you were using. She slipped out of bed once more to blow out all of the candles in the room.

Once the room was dark, Joy slipped back into bed with you. You buried your face into the pillow and sniffled. Your eyelids grew heavy and you begged sleep, or perhaps death, to overtake you. You squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to think of other things.

Tomorrow you would have to spend hours doing laundry. You would be washing all of the undergarments and skirts, ironing dresses, polishing jewels. The task would probably take the entire day. The banality of your day to day work would be sure to wipe away your feelings of dread.

It must have only been moments after you drifted into a restless sleep when someone pounded on the door. Your eyes shot open and you found Joy had also been startled awake. You stared at each other for a few seconds before the pounding on the door came again. Joy abruptly sat up. She wrestled with the blankets for a few long seconds before she successfully freed herself and hurried to the door.

You sat up when the door creaked open.

“Is there a young lady here by the name of Y/N?” A male voice spoke from beyond the door.

“Y/N… is there another name?” Joy asked.

“Angel. Prince Minho sends for her.”

You perked up immediately. You threw the blankets off and clamored out of bed. Joy put a hand up and you froze in place.

“Yes, sir, she is here. Please allow me a moment and I will fetch her.” Joy spoke calmly. You bounced on the balls of your feet.

“Yes, my Lady.”

Joy shut the door and turned to you, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Y/N, take off your nightgown.” Joy stared at you expectantly for a few seconds. “Make haste!”

~!~!~!~!~!~

YOU CHEWED ON your lower lip as you stared at the large pair of ornate double doors. The butler who had been sent to get you waited patiently nearby, waiting for your command to open them. You couldn’t explain why the nerves and fear that overwhelmed your heart as the butler led you through the dark hallways of the palace.

Perhaps it was the silence. The butler didn’t say a word to you unless to remind you to follow him. Or it was the dark hallways, lit only with a few lone candles.

Or perhaps it was the nightgown that swirled about your ankles. Joy insisted on giving you hers. Your nightgown was a plain white smock but Joy’s was made of the finest pink satin and was decorated with lace and satin flowers. It came paired with a matching silk robe that tied around your waist. The sleeves and the skirt billowed as you walked. It didn’t feel right to you to be wearing such a garment but Joy insisted. If you were meeting the prince, you had to be dressed accordingly.

You couldn’t argue with your lady so you agreed to switch nightgowns with her. Once she had yours on, she promised to get you a nicer nightdress for your birthday.

“Anytime, Miss.” The butler pursed his lips. “The prince does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Open the door, please.” You barely recognized your own voice.

The butler pulled the door open and gestured for you to enter first. You took a deep breath before striding through and into a bedroom about twenty times as ornate as the quarters provided to Lady Joy. The lofted ceiling should have made the room cold, but a large fireplace was lit ablaze and crackled away.

The door slid shut behind you. When you glanced back, the butler hadn’t followed you.

You slowly walked deeper into the room. You passed through a lush drawing room, surely meant for entertaining. A study where a large oak desk dominated the space. A door was cracked leading into a bathroom where the bathtub alone was the same size as your room back home. Until finally you reached the bedroom. A large four poster bed stood tall against one wall and a chaise and a few plush couches surrounded another active fireplace. Against the wall opposite from you stood a pair of floor to ceiling glass doors that were open and led out onto a balcony.

And there he stood. Prince Minho had his back to you and he leaned against the balcony railing. He stared off into the night. If he heard you enter, he did not say. For a few moments, you stood in the middle of his bedroom and waited. You weren’t sure if you should say something or not. Besides, it was not in your nature to speak before spoken to. You wondered what he was thinking about.

“Come, my love.” Prince Minho glanced over his shoulder and gestured for you to join him. Your feet carried you past the threshold and onto the balcony. You didn’t have a chance to see the view before you were crushed in the warmest hug you’d ever received.

Once you were close enough, Prince Minho pulled you into a tight embrace. He buried his face in your neck and breathed in deeply. His warmth enveloped you and his body hid you from the cool night air. You didn’t hesitate long before your arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into you. The soft breeze around you ensured that his rich scent invaded your nostrils and you ached to have the smell imprinted on your very soul. You wanted to remember how he held you. He held you as if it was truly the last time.

“We will find a solution, I promise.” Prince Minho murmured into your neck.

“I wish I could stay.”

“I could command it.”

“I can’t leave my lady.”

“I can’t bear to be wed to another.” Prince Minho pulled away just enough to look at your face. “This entire kingdom should be yours.”

“As long as you are my soulmate, the entire kingdom is mine.” You assured him with a small smile. Even though your entire body ached with sadness and you wanted to cry, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to cry in his presence.

“Look at it.” Prince Minho moved behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. He moved until you stood at the railing. “No matter the circumstance, as a prince you are my princess. When I am king you will be my only queen.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight and his words. From here, you could see the entire gardens as well as the golden glow coming from the ballroom. The city sprawled out around the palace, warm and alive. The lights below glittered and you could almost make out the subjects walking the streets. For them, their days were just beginning. The city extended as far as the eye could see until it met the black ocean. From there, only inky blackness.

“Look.” You pointed towards the city, “You see the clocktower?”

“I do.”

“When I have time to myself I like to go to a park nearby for a walk. I get a day off a month and I usually spend it there.” You explained, then pointed somewhere else. “I take my lady to a seamstress near the tavern over there.”

“Where do you live?” Prince Minho’s breath fanned against your ear.

“Over there.” You pointed off to the side, “Just out of sight. Beyond that spire.”

“My angel… tell me something lovely.”

“Like what?”

“It matters not. Tell me something lovely that makes you feel happy.”

“Hmm…” You mused for a few seconds, “The feeling of grass under my feet on a warm summer day. The ocean breeze through my hair. The tiny noises of a puppy. Crawling into bed after a long day. The smell of freshly baked bread. The rich scent of roses.”

“Roses… I may never look at them the same way again.” Prince Minho chuckled.

“I don’t think I will, either.” You giggled. “What about you? What are some lovely things?”

“Well…” Prince Minho’s lips pressed onto your neck and he hummed. His hair tickled your skin and you couldn’t help the giggle that came from your throat. “Your laugh is the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. The smell of old parchment. Having a warm bath after a hunt. Biting into a perfectly crisp apple. Kissing the skin of your beloved. Pink silk nightgowns.”

Between each offering, your prince pressed a warm kiss on your skin, trailing from your neck to your shoulder. His fingers gently moved the fabric of your nightgown aside so he could press kisses on all of the skin he could. You sighed and tilted your head to the side to give him more access. Your eyes slid shut.

“Prince Minho,” you sighed when his fingertips traced your collarbones.

“To you, I am no prince. I am merely Minho.” he whispered. His fingers trailed down your chest to the silk ribbon holding your robe shut, playing with the fabric and running it through the pads of his fingers. “Will you let me love you? Let me shower you with my love and bring your body so much pleasure.”

“Pleasure like in the garden?”

“Just like that, but tenfold.”

Your body trembled with nerves, but you nodded all the same. Minho pressed soft kisses on your skin and you sighed at the feeling. He slowly pulled the ribbon free and your robe fell open for him. He smoothed his hands over your stomach and hips and you sighed at the contact. You leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder and he accepted your weight willingly. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly.

“You can say no,” Prince Minho whispered, “It’s okay. I can love you in more ways.”

“I want to but… I’m nervous.” You admitted. You ached to have him again, if the aching between your legs was anything to go by, but now that the soulmate urge had passed the thought of having something so… big inside of you again made your heart flutter.

“My love, I would never hurt you. We can take this as slow as you wish.”

You stayed in that position for a few minutes. Your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you and holding you as close to his body as possible, both of you staring out at the kingdom below. Your mind wandered, giving you visions of royal life. Perhaps working in the palace so you could at least be closer to him. Getting to sleep in his room each night, slipping out in the morning. You could never be queen. Joy taught you to read but you never quite understood the classic literature that everyone of noble birth had to read to be educated.

You imagined attending parties, dressing up, and dancing the night away in beautiful golden ballrooms. You imagined eating food prepared by the palace cooks each and every morning. If what the cooks prepared tasted as good as what you had for dinner, you thought you could get used to this life. Honestly, you didn’t even want to be queen. Or even a princess. You just wanted to love him. Freely. Openly.

“All I want is to know you.” You whispered and Minho hummed to encourage you to keep speaking, “I want to know you inside and out. I want to grow a partnership, I want to know what you hate and I want to know what you love. I want to know how you take your breakfast, how you take your tea, your favorite walking paths, where do you hide when you need to get away from it all? I don’t want to leave in the morning.”

“Then don’t,” Prince Minho tried again but he knew your answer, “Stay with me in the palace. We could figure something out and I will make sure that you stay by my side.”

For a few long seconds, you stayed silent as you contemplated his words. As the seconds ticked on, Prince Minho heard his answer.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“Then let us focus on this night. Let us spend our time focusing on each other.” Prince Minho turned you around in the circle of his arms so he could gaze upon your face. His eyes glistened with tears and you wished you could take his pain away. “Please… call me Minho.”

“Prince-”

“No,” he cut you off, pressing his lips to your forehead for a few seconds, “Just… Minho.”

“Minho…” You breathed, “Bring me pleasure. I will bring you pleasure tenfold. Please.”

“Angel, you never have to ask.”

His lips crashed onto yours with no more ceremony. Your heart swelled at the contact and you kissed him back eagerly. His lips tasted so sweet. Your favorite sweet could never compare to his taste. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he pressed you into the balcony railing. He twisted his head a little and kissed you deeper. You accepted everything he had to give you.

Minho put his hands on your shoulders and pushed the robe off. The fabric pooled around your waist and he started on working the robe off your arms but you pulled away a little.

“Wait. Not here.” You whispered. Minho pulled away from you.

“No one can see us up here, Angel.”

“Still… I… I don’t want to lose the robe. It belongs to my lady.” You admitted.

“When you are mine, I will give you hundreds of nightgowns made of the finest silk in all the land.” Minho pressed warm kisses on your jawbone and neck as he spoke, trailing his lips along your skin and leaving trails of fire in his wake.

“I’m already yours.”

“Don’t you forget it.”

With that, Minho swept you up into his arms and carried you bridal style back into his room. You yelped when you initially lost your footing but giggled as he carried you. You held onto him and nuzzled your nose into his neck. Minho paused in the middle of his room and looked towards the fireplace then towards his bed on the other end of the room. After a few moments of deliberation, he made his way over to the bed and gently laid you down on the plush mattress. He was over you in an instant, pressing his knees on either side of your hips.

“Angel, I want to see you this time. I want to see all of you.”

Minho’s hands ran over the fabric of your nightgown. His eyes trailed over your curves. His hands moved to gently cup your breasts. He squeezed them and pushed them together to watch them swell under the fabric. His thumbs ran over your pebbled nipples and you gasped at the surprisingly pleasant feeling that came from it. Minho smiled softly and repeated the action again and again, rubbing his thumbs in circles around your nipples. Your back arched into him and your eyes slid shut so you could enjoy the stimulation.

He moved one of his knees to press at the seam between yours. Your legs easily fell open to accommodate him. Minho leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. He resumed his task of helping the robe off your body. You assisted him by pulling your arms out of the sleeves and tugging the offending fabric away so it could pool on the ground. Minho gripped your thighs and worked on pushing the silky fabric up your legs so he could touch your bare skin.

Your hands busied themselves with pulling his blouse up and over his head. He broke the kiss briefly to rip his shirt off and toss it on the floor before kissing you again. He didn’t give you the chance to admire his figure, but your hands traced his strong shoulders and strong chest and abdominal muscles.

That telltale arousal began to pool between your legs. The same heat you felt in the garden licked up your spine and made the junction between your legs ache. Your hips unconsciously rolled upwards, only to catch on Minho’s pants. The sudden friction made a moan slip from your lips. Minho pulled away with a gasp.

“Please make that sound again. I will worship the ground you walk on.” Minho moaned out. He pressed his thigh closer to the apex between your legs until it pressed firmly against your heat. You gasped at the contact but winced when you remembered that Joy’s silk gown still covered you. You grasped the skirt and pulled it up over your hips and Minho moaned again. “Nothing underneath, angel? Were you hoping I would fuck you?”

Mindlessly, you nodded, choosing not to remind him that it was, in fact, him who ripped your undergarments to the point where they could not be used. Instead, you pressed your core against his thigh and moaned at the pleasure that sparked through you. Minho flexed his thigh and urged you to grind against him. Your hips moved slowly as you got used to the rhythm and the new pleasure. You whimpered as the pleasure grew but you weren’t sure if you would be able to climax like you did in the garden.

“More,” you whimpered thoughtlessly.

“My angel wants more?” Minho cooed. He stared down at you with such awe, as if perhaps there was an actual angel below him. “What do you want? I shall give it to you.”

“I…” you trailed off, your mind going blank, “I don’t know. I want you to touch me.”

With that, Minho pulled his knee away and pushed your nightgown up to expose your core to him. Instinctively, you parted your legs a little more. Minho’s gaze flickered down to your center and pulled his lower lip between his teeth. Your folds glistened in the low glow from the fireplace across the room. Minho moved a hand and gently swiped one of his fingers through your folds and brought it to his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head at the taste of you.

“Angel, can I taste you properly?” Minho’s gravely voice sent a wave of arousal through you.

“You just did…”

“I want to put my tongue on you.” Minho slowly lowered down the bed until his face hovered just above your core, “If it’s too much tell me to stop.”

With that, Minho flattened his tongue against you and your back instantly arched off the bed. You let out a choked gasp as the dizzying sensation swept through you. His warm, wet tongue licked through your folds, mapping every ridge and dip and curve. He swirled his tongue around your opening to gather your wetness in his mouth before he moved up to suck on your clit. A keening moan left your throat as he sucked and nipped at the little bud. You couldn’t stop the small moans and gasps you let out as Minho’s tongue played with you.

“You taste so good, angel.” Minho moaned.

He licked down to your entrance and slowly wiggled his tongue past the barrier. He moaned against your core and pushed his tongue deeper into you. You moaned at the feeling and tilted your hips up to chase his face, as if he had any intention to move. He lapped at your walls greedily, like a man who’s never tasted water before. Minho’s eyes slid shut as he savored your warmth in his mouth. His nose nudged your clit with every few pushes of his tongue and it was enough to build the most amazing feeling in your stomach.

You recognized that feeling now, it was the same one from the garden. As if on instinct, you reached for his head to keep him against you before you paused, realizing that this was the prince you were about to touch without permission. He’d told you a hundred times that you could, but the doubt still hovered.

As if reading your thoughts, Minho reached up and grabbed your wrist. He led your hand to the back of his head before hooking his arm under your leg to hold you against him. Your fingers slid through his silky locks easily. You gasped out at a particularly harsh suck and you gripped his hair tightly. Minho let out a moan into your pussy and the vibrations, in turn, made you moan.

Minho refocused his efforts, moving up to wrap his lips and tongue around your little clit. His other hand slid between you until his fingertips prodded at your swollen hole. You gasped at the contact, but tilted your hips up to chase the feeling. You could feel him smile against you. The coil within you tightened and you gasped.

“Aw, sweet girl, are you going to cum?” Minho cooed.

“Yes! Yes, please, I need more.” you moaned out.

“You want my fingers?” Minho drew a small circle around your hole with a fingertip.

“Fuc- yes!” You choked out a moan when he pushed one finger into the knuckle.

“Mm, you’re so tight.” Minho murmured those last words right against your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

You were certain you had died and gone to heaven. The added stimulation of his finger and the incessant swirls of his tongue sent you hurtling towards a release in record time. Like the wave inside of you, your moans also rose like a crescendo. Growing in pitch and frequency, you couldn’t hold them back. You gripped onto Minho’s hair like a lifeline as the pleasure peaked.

“Cumming- sir! Sir, I’m cumming, please!” You all but shrieked as you came into his mouth.

Your legs shook, even as Minho slowed his ministrations to ride you through it. Even though he’d just given it to you, he pulled his finger out and moved his face a little lower so he could lap gently at your pulsing hole. You quivered and moaned as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you until it slowly turned to pain. After one soft lap, you winced and let go of Minho’s hair.

He took this as a sign and pulled away from you. He sat back on his knees and tilted his head back. He closed his eyes and rested his hands on your legs, just to keep some form of physical contact with you. You watched as he ran his tongue along his lips as if to gather every single drop of your sweet essence.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum.” Minho commented, opening his eyes once more to look into yours.

“I want to make you cum, too,” you declared, sitting up and placing your hands on his hips.

His noticeable and very neglected erection strained in his pants. You kept your eyes on his as you moved your palm to gently cup him. Minho’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact for a moment before he opened them once more to look at you. He cupped your cheeks in his hands as you palmed him through his pants.

“And you will do so once I am inside of you.” Minho’s low voice slid easily down your spine and you shivered.

“But Minho… Can I taste you, too?”

“How can I say no to that when you’re looking at me so sweetly?”

Minho’s nimble fingers immediately got to work on the laces on his pants. He flopped down on the bed next to you and worked his pants off his hips until they were a forgotten pile on the floor. His shirt was thrown on the floor next, leaving him completely bare. His fingers played with the hem of your nightdress and his eyes twinkled.

Slowly, you lowered yourself to get a closer look at his cock. Long, thick, and heavy. The dark pink head oozed precum and you licked your lips in anticipation. You could hardly believe that this is the thing that had just been inside of you this morning. Only a few hours ago, this thing had made you cum so hard and it was about to do it again.

Unable to wait any longer, you leaned forward to press a wet kiss to the leaking head. Minho moaned on contact, throwing his head back into the plush pillows as you suckled it into your mouth. You ran your tongue over the velvety skin, sighing as he leaked more precum. Salty and musky but overall not unpleasant. Minho’s deft fingers swept through your hair and pulled it back so it wouldn’t get in the way. You lifted your gaze to meet his and he just about blew his load right there.

You looked so sweet, gently sucking on the head of his cock while looking at him innocently through your eyelashes. Your petal pink nightgown hung down just enough for him to get a clear look at your tits that swelled with each breath. The sight alone made him moan louder.

“Am I doing it right?” You pulled away slightly to blink at him.

“Fuck, yes.” He responded, laughing softly, “Keep going.”

Not one to refuse an order from your future king, you lowered your head and put him back in your mouth. Minho moaned softly, the sweet noise encouraging you to take a little more of him. Minho panted as he watched you take more and more of him until your nose lightly grazed his stomach. His tip prodded the back of your throat and you choked a little. Minho rolled his hips up into your mouth and you let out a little gasp.

“Run your tongue along it.” Minho guided you.

You wasted no time and swirled your tongue along the underside of his cock. You bobbed your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you went. Occasionally you rose all the way up and sucked on the head like you would a cube of ice on a hot day. This action would make him whimper and writhe under you. Every time he made a noise of pleasure, your core clenched and dripped even more for him. You couldn’t wait to take him again.

Minho used the grip he had on your hair to guide you up and down his length. He kept his eyes on your lips as you accepted him into your warm, wet mouth time and time again. The knot in his stomach kept tensing, threatening to spill his release down your throat but he wasn’t done receiving all the the pleasure your body could give him. Maybe one day he would paint your face and lips in his cum, but today was not that day,

All too soon, he pulled you off of him roughly. He tugged you up to be face to face so that he could kiss you. His plush lips caressed yours hungrily, coaxing your tongue into his mouth to suck on. If he minded the salty taste of his precum on your lips, he didn’t say anything. Just like you didn’t say anything about the taste of yourself on his tongue.

“If I don’t fuck you right this instant, I may die.” Minho murmured against your lips.

“How do you want me, my love?”

“Naked.”

Minho clawed at your nightdress and pulled it over your head. The flimsy fabric joined the pile on the floor. The air hit your exposed chest and your nipples perked immediately. His hands came to gently cup your breasts and he kneaded them slowly. His thumbs gently traced matching circles around your nipples and pleasure sparked through you with every touch. You arched your back, pushing your chest into his hands more. Minho grinned mischievously before he leaned up and closed his lips around one of your hardened buds.

“Oh!” You gasped as his tongue circled your nipple. His teeth caught on the sensitive peak and you moaned and threw your head back. “Minho!”

“Yes, angel, tell me who’s making you feel good.” Minho whispered as he moved his mouth to your other breast and latched on. He sucked and swirled his tongue on your nipple like he would die tomorrow and the only thing that could save him was you and the essence you could promise him. “Just imagine these beautiful works of art filled with milk for our baby, hm?”

“Yes,” The thought of bearing his child sent another wave of arousal through you. Though you knew it would never happen, you decided to let him play into the fantasy.

“My angel, you would look so beautiful. Giving our baby life, giving me life.” Minho sucked harshly on your nipple and switched one last time to the other side. “I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from tasting you every day.”

“Minho!” You moaned when he lightly bit down on your swollen nub.

“Good girl.” Minho pulled away with a quiet pop and blew onto your damp skin. The cold stream of air on your wet breast made you shiver. “Lay down. I want to see your face when I enter you.”

You scrambled onto your back, your hands hastily brushing your hair out of your face as Minho crawled over you. As natural as opening your eyes in the morning, you opened your legs for him. He smiled as he settled between your thighs. His cock brushed your inner thigh and you both shuddered at the contact. He buried his head into your neck and sighed. He breathed you in, kissing your skin deeply.

“Minho, please.” You urged, your hands finding purchase on his slim waist and pulling him closer to you. Your core ached, wet and empty.

“I’m going to make love to you now. If you need me to stop, tell me and I will.” Minho rolled his hips into yours. His cock slid through the wet lips of your pussy and caught on the hood of your clit.

“I never want you to stop.”

Minho moaned into your neck and kissed his way up to your lips. He kissed you deeply, dipping your tongue into your mouth to drink in your moans. One of his hands dipped between your bodies to grasp his cock. He ran the tip through your soaked pussy, pushing it against your clit to illicit moans and gasps from you. Each pass made your hole even more soaked and empty.

“Angel, you feel so good.”

“Put it in.” You whined.

Minho pulled back from you just enough so that he could watch your face when he pushed into you. The head breached your hole and you let out a keening moan. Your hooded eyes watched his face contort into pleasure as he slowly inched inside of you. His length caressed your walls as he sunk in, inch by glorious inch. His eyes never left yours, even when he hit a dead end.

He bottomed out, his thighs pressed firmly into yours. You could have sworn the tip of his cock was hitting the back of your throat.

“You look so beautiful when you’re full of my cock.” Minho moaned. His skin was tinted a rose color and the vein in his neck looked close to popping. “You’re so tight, Angel, I could cum right now.”

“So full,” you choked out, hardly able to form words around the stretch of him in your cunt.

“Wanna fill you up even more, Angel.” Minho buried his face in the crook of your neck again. He rocked into you slowly, hardly even moving at all. If he moved too much too fast he was worried that he would cum far too quickly. Your tight heat choked his cock and coated him in your sweet wetness. His slight movements in and out of you made your pussy squelch around him.

“Move,” You begged.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard.” Minho promised.

With that, he pulled his hips back until just his head remained sheathed by your walls. Then he pushed forwards with all the force he could muster and your combined moans were like music. Your cunt clamped onto his cock as he fucked you with earnest. He rolled his hips into yours slowly but with so much force behind them that you were sure you’d be sore tomorrow.

Tonight, you couldn’t care less.

You rolled your hips up to meet every thrust. Minho’s precise thrusts rubbed against all of the perfect spots inside of you. His girth stretched you wide and you wondered how it was possible that there would be enough room inside of you for his cum.

Minho wasn’t faring with that thought any better. Your tight cunt gripped him like a vice. Every time he entered you, you clenched so tightly that he was worried that every thrust might be his last. The last time he fucked you, things had gone by quickly and he hadn’t had the time to really feel you. This time, he was careful with his thrusts so he could feel every inch of your slick walls around his aching cock. Your walls clenched and clamped onto him.

“Angel, you feel so good,” Minho moaned, leaning down to suck a mark into your neck, “I don’t think I’ll last.”

“Me either.”

You were surprised with how quickly the pleasure mounted within you. Your core ached like before, but this wasn’t a quick fuck like in the rose garden. Minho was making sure that you could feel every single inch of him and that he could feel every ridge and bump of your walls.

When he fucked you behind the rose bushes it was quick and rushed. He’d pounded into you like he was going to die if he didn’t. The orgasm he’d coaxed you through was powerful and quick.

This, however, was the exact opposite of that. Each movement was slow and calculated. Each deliberate roll of his hips made you shudder with pleasure. It was like he was trying to get his entire cock into you with every thrust while also taking the time to feel every inch.

“Faster,” you choked out.

“Want to feel you, angel.” Minho grunted, “Want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that?”

“I-it’s too much-” you choked after a particularly brutal thrust.

“Come on, love, I know you can do it.”

Minho’s hands trailed down your body, to your legs, to hook under the back of your knees. He hiked your legs up until you had your ankles hooked behind his back. This gave him a new angle to thrust into you. His pubic bone grazed deliciously against your clit with every pass. You were certain that you would lose consciousness at any moment.

“I can’t.” You sighed out.

“It’s okay, angel. Just relax and let me take care of you.” Minho urged.

Only moments later, the string in your tummy pulled taut. You moaned softly into his neck as he delivered each of his perfect thrusts. Your back arched off the bed and you pushed your hips up to meet his. This created the most beautiful and intense pressure in your cunt.

“You’re squeezing me so tight! Are you about to come?” Minho moaned into your ear and you nodded. “Good girl, let me feel it.”

It was like your body waited for his command. Your orgasm crashed over you and you couldn’t stop yourself from throwing your head back and letting out the loudest moan of the night. Minho continued fucking you through it, chanting words of praise into your ear. Your cunt squeezed the dear life out of him and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last. You tightened your legs around him in order to keep him inside you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, “I’m going to come inside of you, mark you as mine so you keep a piece of me with you wherever you go.”

“Yes,” You moaned out, still shaking through your powerful orgasm.

It was all the confirmation he needed to bury himself as deep inside you as he could to release. The warm sensation of cum filling you up spread through your belly. Your pussy spasmed around his length, milking him for every single drop. He thrusted into you shallowly a few times until he was completely empty.

Finally, your legs dropped from around his waist and he took that as a sign to carefully pull out of your spent hole. Minho sat up on his knees to watch as his softening cock left your tight hole. His cock was coated with your slick and shone in the low light from the fireplace.

He collapsed on the bed next to you and wasted no time in pulling you into him. Minho held you tightly, neither of you minding the tacky stick of your sweat-slicked skin. You clung to him as well, burying your face into his neck. Together, you came down from your highs, breathing hard and holding one another tight.

“Please stay.” Minho whispered into your hair, “I won’t command it, but will you please stay with me until dawn?”

“Yes, Minho. I promise, I’ll stay.”

~!~!~!~!~!~

THE CALL OF the rooster roused you from your sleep well before you were ready. Your eyes peeled open and the sun had barely even kissed the horizon. You sighed and pushed the blankets away and sat up. You glanced up at the pink silk nightgown that hung from your door. Lady Joy refused to let you give it back, but you couldn’t bear to wear it again.

Gone were the fine silks and wools of the Prince’s palace bedroom. Here to stay were your maids quarters with its scratchy sheets and windows that you could never quite get clean. You gently lifted your hand to touch your lips. Those very lips had touched the Prince’s months ago.

Slipping out of bed that morning had nearly gutted you, but you redressed in your lady’s silk gown and returned to her quarters. All before the prince even awoke.

Eons ago. The ball and the roses and the gowns were eons ago. So why did you still feel his touch on your skin? Why could you still hear the orchestra playing the waltz that your prince whisked you away to?

You were thankful that his wedding bells hadn’t rung on your day off for the month. Lady Joy attended the ceremony but left you at home with a long list of chores to complete. Most of them were mindless busywork but she knew to keep you distracted.

Since the ceremony, life simply returned to normal. Your daily tasks resumed and you cared for your lady to the best of your ability. Which, as of late, was not much. Lady Joy did her best to be accommodating, which you were more than thankful for. You just wanted to get back to work. You had a feeling that the grace she was giving you was beginning to frustrate her mother.

You forced yourself out of bed and you quickly dressed. You swallowed down the wave of nausea that climbed up your throat and made your way to Lady Joy’s chambers. The curtains were drawn and the embers of a fire crackled in the fireplace. Lady Joy was curled up in the center of the bed, fast asleep. Her light snores provided some white noise as you rekindled the fire and prepared her vanity for her morning routine.

Eventually, you flung open the curtains and the warm light from the sun streamed into the room. You sighed as it hit your skin, basking in the warmth for a few moments. Joy groaned behind you and shoved her head under her pillow.

“Rise and shine, my Lady. You have many duties to attend to today.” You chided her.

“Like what?” Joy groaned, muffled by the pillow.

“There is a tea party this afternoon. Duchess Loh is hosting and is expecting your attendance. Then Lady Mina is requesting your presence at dinner this evening.” You explained, moving from the drapes to the closet. You threw open the doors and perused the gowns available for the day. You were admittedly a little behind in your laundry.

“I think we should cancel.” Joy groaned, “I’m feeling quite ill today.”

“Ill? Are you alright?” You retreated from the closet to sit on the edge of her bed.

“My stomach is turning. I’ve been feeling ill for several days.” Joy gently rubbed her stomach. “It usually passes in the evening but perhaps dinner disagreed with me?”

“For the last several days? That sounds quite serious. Perhaps I should call for the doctor?” You cleared your throat, wondering if you should tell her that you’d been feeling the exact same way.

“Perhaps it is simply the pain of my courses. I’m supposed to bleed soon, right?” Joy finally pulled her face from the pillow and sat up.

“Have you not begun yet?”

“No…” Joy trailed off. “Oh, lord have mercy. The ball was three months ago now, right?”

“I suppose so. Oh no…” You trailed off, “My Lady, what happened when I left for the Prince’s chambers?”

“I… made a promise not to say a word.” Joy chewed on her lower lip, “Sir Peter came to find me. We had such a stimulating conversation and he wanted to continue it. It was an accident, but we touched and…”

“Lady Joy!” You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, “Why has he not come to call?”

“He’s from Rome, like our princess. He left the next morning.” Joy wailed, a dam breaking within her and her tears flowed down her cheeks. “Dear Y/N, I am so sorry I didn’t tell you! I thought you wouldn’t want to hear it after everything with the prince and-”

“You need not apologize to me, my Lady.” You took her in your arms and patted her hair while she cried for a few minutes, “I know it must be so difficult to be without him.”

“It feels like my heart has been torn from my chest!”

“My Lady, please let me fetch the doctor. If you are with child then we must know. While he’s here, I think he should see me, too.” You winced as you spoke.

Lady Joy pulled away from you instantly, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her eyes dipped from your face down to your stomach. You chewed on your lip, wondering if it was seriously possible that both of you were with child at the same time. You hadn’t experienced the nausea that most women report but you noted that your courses were late last month, and certain smells that once pleased you were now nauseating.

“Would that mean that…” Joy trailed off.

“I believe so, miss.”

“Fetch the doctor.” Joy scrambled out of bed and threw the drapes closed. “And… fetch mother. I fear we will need to retire to the countryside for the rest of the season.”

Your hand drifted to your stomach, now churning with fear. You met Joy’s eyes and for a moment. Anxiety swirled between you as the consequences of your actions hovered over your shoulders.

For a moment, both you and Joy remained still.

Then, you did what you do best. You rose to your feet and walked head-first into your duties and your future. Without your prince.

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