#dress like the night but light up the day

[evilmenenjoyer]

Gratitude

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

SEQUEL to City of Love. Probably not a good fic to read as a stand-alone; read City of Love first for context.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dubious consent, rough sex after a fight, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, bruising, marking, pain play/sadomasochism, mirror sex, manhandling, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), lots of angst.

Tags: @apookalypse @thecutiepieishere / I do not have an official taglist yet, but I'd be willing to make one if people were interested. If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, or in any additions to this story, let me know somehow!

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It's three days later when you see him again, just when you were convinced he left Paris for good.

You knew it would take a lot longer for the reminders of him to leave your mind as well as your body. He's in the marks his hands left on your hips, in the scrapes and faint bruises along your back from when he tossed and squeezed you against the brick wall, in the ghost of his lips on your skin. You can still feel them every time you close your eyes, hear his voice whisper your name against your neck as he came.

It shouldn't surprise you, after everything, to have him knock on your door right as you’re getting ready to have a night out. It still nearly takes your breath away to see him, looking as impeccable as usual in his dark gray suit, smiling as if his mere presence doesn't rock your world upside down a third time.

“What part of ‘don’t ever contact me again’ did you not understand?” you ask, though right away you can tell you don't sound nearly as firm and assertive as you’d like. You wonder if he can tell you hoped, against every rational thought in your brain, that he would come back.

Judging by his smile, you’d bet he can.

“I couldn't help myself,” he responds, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. “Can I come in?”

That part of you that still clings to rationality, that can tell a good idea apart from a horrible one, lights up like a loud siren in your brain. There's nothing good that could possibly come out of this. Hasn't he toyed with you enough already? With his weird twisted games, tracking you down all the way to a foreign country, sending you off to those horrific games?

Still, you find yourself stepping aside, leaving a gap for him to come through. You’ve never been good at controlling your impulses, after all.

The apartment you’ve been renting for the time being stands in the heart of Paris. It looks exactly what you pictured a typical, glamorous Parisian apartment to look like – high walls, hardwood floors, large arched windows with a stunning view of the city and the Eiffel Tower. It's furnished with all the essentials, and nothing more. You didn't see the need to bring in new furniture or decorations when you didn't even know for how long you’d be staying in the city. At this point, you’re already considering moving on to somewhere else.

“Make yourself at home,” you say. “But I’m going out soon.”

“I see that.” His eyes run over you as he sits at the arm of the couch, shamelessly lingering on the black dress that hugs all your curves at the right spots. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

You turn your back to him, looking for the earrings you had put down somewhere when you heard the knock on the door. You feel his body heat approach you from behind, his fingertips brushing against a red spot on your shoulder blade that the spaghetti straps of the dress fail to cover.

“Did I do this to you?”

His voice doesn't sound remorseful or apologetic at all. If only, there's a hint of pride to his tone, a small smile at the corner of his lip that you can tell is there without even looking at him. It should upset you, thinking of how roughly he pushed you against that wall, but it has goosebumps blooming all over your skin around the spot he touches.

“Who else would it be?” Your voice shakes ever so slightly against your will, and you clear your throat to get rid of it.

You expect him to pull back, but instead he inches even closer. He has to lean down to mold his chest to your back, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your neck when he speaks. “I can make it up to you.”

“Oh, really?” You turn your head just enough to chase after his lips. Screw the night out. He lets you capture them, indulging you in only a quick kiss before pulling away.

“I’m serious. I have something for you.”

“Oh.” You frown at the loss of contact, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

Your frown deepens, and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Don't you trust me yet?” he asks.

No. Absolutely not. Still, what's the worst that can happen? What would he do while you have your eyes closed that he can't do right now; that he couldn't have done three nights ago at that bar, when you gave yourself to him so willingly?

You close your eyes, with a small sigh as if letting him know it's a nuisance. There's no real heat to it, and you both know it.

The Salesman’s hands find their way to your arms, guiding you further into the apartment. You follow his lead slowly, careful not to bump into any furniture or clutter you left around the place while picking an outfit and getting ready.

“You didn't have to give me a gift,” you say, still confused about what this is about. He stops walking the two of you, leaving you in an unknown part of the apartment. Your heart beats slightly faster than normal; distrustful, but excited. No man has ever bought you a gift before. Gifts are for girlfriends, for women they're trying to impress. Somehow, in all your years on this Earth, you’d missed out on being that woman to anyone.

“I was feeling romantic,” he explains. You feel something cold land over the exposed skin of your neck and chest, and he fiddles with a clasp at the nape of your neck. “Blame it on Paris. You can open your eyes.”

You do so, finding yourself standing in your bedroom, right in front of the large mirror resting against the wall. The necklace stands out against your skin – thin white gold chain and gemstones shining so bright you can immediately tell they're real, a ruby and a sapphire encrusted by tiny crystals. The color choice is an odd one for a necklace, prompting you to take a closer look. That's when any hints of a smile vanish from your face.

The gemstones are placed beside each other, the shapes and markings in them identical to those of the ddakji tiles you and the Salesman had played together in the subway station.

“I had it custom-made for you,” he says. Standing behind you, his reflection on the mirror takes up almost the entire background, but you don't pay him any mind. Your eyes are all but glued to the red and deep blue stones hanging from your neck, hoping against hope that you had seen it all wrong, that this was just a figment of your imagination and the real necklace will reveal itself if you just look hard enough.

It never does.

Reality hits you then. This isn’t some fun new fling, or the beginning of a Paris romance. This is the man who lured you into a horribly traumatic experience when you were at your most vulnerable, who came all the way from Seoul just to rub in your face that you didn't deserve to make it out of there alive. And now here he is. Prying his way into your apartment, your body, your mind. And you just let him.

Horror floods you, nearly pushing you to your knees right here. You touch the pendant with shaky fingers, and it takes everything in you not to grab the chain and yank it off your neck. Finally, your eyes meet the Salesman’s in the mirror.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He blinks innocently. “You don't like it?”

“Why would you do this?” you ask, unsure of whether you want to burst into tears or slap him in the face.

His fingers join yours where they rest on the necklace, only grazing your skin on their way to touching the pendant. “I thought you'd like a reminder.”

That makes you spring into action, pulling away from him and pushing his hand away with a ferocity you didn't know you still had, not since the Squid Games.

“A reminder? What makes you think I want to remember that shit?” You raise your voice; something to make up for how small you feel, by the way you need to tilt your head to look him in the eye. “If I could erase that night from my memory for the rest of my life, I would.”

“I find that hard to believe. Would you erase our night together at the bar as well?” His eyes leave yours only to look back to the mirror behind you. “Look at you. Wearing those bruises so proudly.”

For a moment all you can do is stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity he has to stand in your house and say these things. The worst of it all is you can’t fully deny it – you picked the dress deliberately knowing it left the upper part of your back exposed, happy to catch glimpses of the bruises he left you with if you happened to stumble upon a mirror or reflective surface throughout the night.

“I would,” you insist. “What the fuck makes you think I’d want to remember the night that ruined my life?”

A laugh comes out of him; a short, but cruel sound. “I ruined your life, is that what you're saying?”

You scoff. “Don't act like you don't know you did.”

He steps even closer to you. You refuse to step back, even when it feels like his chest is about to bump into your forehead. “Your life,” he says, “was already shit way before I came around. Debt, an awful job, an even worse home, no future prospects, no friends. What exactly was there about your life that was good enough to be ruined?”

Rage consumes you to hear him talk like that about your old life. Things were bad, yes, but there was a positivity about you that's been lost ever since you stepped foot in those games. You could barely make ends meet, and your shifts were long and exhausting, but you had hopes of going to school, of turning your life around. Your home was a tiny, shitty house in an even shittier neighborhood, but you still took the effort to decorate it and try to make it feel more like a home. Where did that go? Now, you have all the money you could ever wish for, and all you do is spend it on clothes and expensive trips you don't even have the motivation to enjoy, your only goal being getting far away from Seoul.

“At least I felt like a fucking person! Do you even know what that’s like? Feeling human?” you all but yell, grateful for the language barrier in case any neighbors happen to be listening. “I’d never killed anyone. I’d never wanted to kill anyone! I didn't have nightmares, and I didn't wake up every day wondering if I deserve to be alive after everything I did to survive!”

“You had nothing,” he reminds you, his voice cold as the winter outside. “Not even your dignity. Or did you forget how we met? How you asked me to play ddakji with you, willing to get hit in the face repeatedly not for money, but just to have my attention?”

You hold back a sob, shaking your head furiously, but it's of no use. The words sting hard enough to bring tears to your eyes; it stings even more to know they're true. 

“Get out of my apartment,” you demand. You wish you'd never let him in. You wish you'd never met him at all.

“Things are different now,” he says, ignoring your order completely. “You’re rich, and you’ve matured. You’ll never struggle again in your life, if you're smart.”

“I said GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Finally at your breaking point, you push him, shoving at his chest as hard as you have the strength to. He barely budges. It's only then that you notice how cornered he’s got you, your back about to bump into the mirror.

He brings his hand towards your face, cupping your chin and forcing you to look higher up at him. You thrash and claw at his wrist, trying to push it away from you, but he only tightens his grip until it's almost painful. There’s a darkness in his eyes that’s unlike any expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“I made you stronger. You're a millionaire now because of me,” he says. “How about a little gratitude?”

Even from your position, you still manage an incredulous scoff at him. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.” A grin stretches the corner of his lips, not a trace of warmth of friendliness behind it. “You should be thankful I pulled you out of your misery.”

He moves faster than you’re ready to, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you down. You brace yourself for the impact of your head hitting the floor, gasping in surprise when your back bounces over the soft mattress instead. He hovers above you, using his heavier body to pin yours down before you even have the chance to start struggling against his grip.

“Get off me!”

“Calm down.” He holds both your wrists together with one hand, while the other manages to somehow pull your panties off your body, using your kicking legs as leverage. Your eyes widen in shock. “I’m just giving you another reminder.”

“W-what?” Your voice wavers with fear. All that fury is slowly but surely being replaced with it, or with a mixture of both feelings that leaves you heaving for breath.

He doesn't have to pull your dress up – your own struggle does it by itself, leaving the fabric rumpled up at your hips and your bottom exposed. You stop kicking him in an attempt to cover yourself, and he takes advantage of that fraction of a second to stick his knee on the spot on the mattress between your legs, stopping you from shutting them. You gasp, the heavy pressure on your core cutting off all your thoughts for a moment. You can think of nothing to do other than to yell for help.

As if reading your thoughts, his free hand covers your mouth.

You voice your displeasure through a muffled grunt. You keep on struggling, trying to kick him off you, but each movement unintentionally rubs your bare clit over his thigh that pins you down. He applies even more pressure and you cry out, mortified to feel heat pooling between your legs.

“Christ, you're wet. I can feel it.”

You can feel it too, the fabric of his pants damp and hot where it connects with you. You're torn on whether to keep fighting and essentially humping his leg or giving up, if only to have a few instants of relief.

“If you scream, I’ll slit your throat,” he warns in a hoarse whisper. “Do you understand?”

Out of options, you nod.

He releases your mouth, then your wrists. It occurs to you to scream anyway, but you force yourself to remember who you're dealing with. He wouldn’t give you empty threats. Anyone involved in bringing people into those games has no qualms about slitting your throat open and leaving you to bleed out on your silk sheets.

The Salesman makes his way down your body, now holding onto your legs with his hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you manage to ask, the answer rather obvious but it had all happened so fast, leaving you dazed and confused.

“Giving you yet another reason to be thankful to me.”

The sudden, damp feel of his tongue on your entrance overcomes your senses, and you wouldn't be able to hold back a shout if you tried.

Fortunately, he forgives you for it. You squirm under the sensations, but he holds your hips down against the mattress in a firm grip, immobilizing them completely and prying you open all at once. You hoist yourself up over your elbows only to be met with your own reflection on the mirror across the room, your hair a mess already and your face contorted in fear and pleasure and indignation all at once. You can’t bear to watch yourself like this, mortification entrenched into every muscle of your body that reacts to his touch as he continues to penetrate you with his tongue. You fall back towards the mattress with a broken moan.

“God– Y-you can’t–” Whatever you were about to say dies out in your throat as his lips rise to your clit, enveloping you so expertly in the wet heat of his mouth. You clench your whole body, eyelids all the way down to your toes, and for a moment you’re grateful for the hands that hold your legs open just so you don’t have to face the shame of spreading them wider.

Your hands, perfectly capable of putting up a fight once they’d been released, twist into the sheets beneath you, holding on like your life depends on it. You curse yourself for not trying harder to push him off, for not really wanting to; for always being so unwilling to say no to him. Moans leave your lips like they’re being ripped out of you, growing in volume like you just can’t help it. It makes you wish one of the pillows were within reach so you could bury it against your face and muffle them, or simply to hide yourself from how incredibly good it feels to be at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long at all. Say whatever you want about the Salesman, but this is a man who knows what he’s doing with his tongue. In only a few minutes he reduces you to whimpers and pleading, your orgasm hitting you like a wave crashing full-force over the shore. Your back arches off the bed, mouth open in a long moan, and he continues to dine on you like a starving man until the moment you fall backwards, spent.

When you come back to yourself, you’re covering your face with your hands as he presses kisses to the line of your inner thigh. You feel him make his way up your body, feel his hands on your wrists, gently moving them out of the way and exposing your face, the deep flush that has colored your cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, you’re overcome with a rush of emotions you’re not sure how to name. How can a person make you feel so many things at once? How can you still want him – ardently, desperately, profoundly want him – after everything? How can he be so addictive, leaving you already hooked from the scraps of attention he’s given you? You tilt your head just a tiny bit towards him, a silent invitation, and he leans in the rest of the way to take your lips in his.

He kisses you deeply, hungrily, holding you through the shudders that run through your body from the aftershocks of your orgasm until they subside. Kisses you like you’re more than just a hookup, tempting you to believe there must be something about you that’s special. Kisses you for long enough to get you drunk in it, like he’s happy to do nothing but this for the rest of his life.

The next time he pulls back, he removes his suit jacket and tie. You somehow manage to help him unbutton his white shirt, motivated by the promise of feeling his bare skin on yours. You nearly forget his pants are still on, letting him work on that as you press kisses to down his neck. Of course his body is as perfect as his face. He makes an approving sound that you can feel on his throat, and you follow the vibrations of his vocal chords until his pulse point, pleased to find his heartbeats as fast as yours. You can’t resist taking the skin there between your teeth.

He growls, hands tightening on your hips and flipping you on the bed so you’re facing the other side, your back to him. You hold onto the bed frame to steady yourself, body half-bent forward.

You expect him to thrust into you without warning, just as he had the last time. Before that, he brings a hand underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards, your sight landing squarely on your joined reflection on the mirror.

“Keep your eyes right there.” Now he enters you, and you watch your eyes widen at the sudden intrusion. “Watch yourself get fucked on my cock.”

The sheer filth in his voice prompts you to obey, to look. Your knuckles turn white on the bedframe and your body rocks forward with each of his thrusts; slow at first, but steadily gaining power and speed. He reaches down to rub your clit in circles, and it makes your body jerk to feel it and see it at the same time, to watch your reactions in real time. The sight of the necklace still hanging from your neck prompts you to look away, a confirmation of what’s actually happening to you that you’re not prepared to stare in the face.

His hand leaves your clit to wrap itself into your hair, yanking it back. Your body arches to follow it, your reflection on the glass confronting you once again.

“I said look,” he says into your ear. “Don’t you wanna see what a pretty mess you are for me?”

You shake your head, although his death grip on your hair makes it difficult to move. That’s precisely the issue: seeing the mess that he made you into, seeing yourself so overwhelmed and dirty and ashamed, the sounds leaving you suggesting nothing other than aching, raw need. It’s too much. It doesn’t stop you from pushing your hips back to meet his, trying to match his rhythm. 

He angles his thrusts to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars. “Oh God,” you croak, feeling the heaviness of tears behind your eyes and another orgasm fast approaching.

Just when you’re close, impossibly close to your release, he stops. You watch him on the mirror, panting just for a moment before he pulls out of you and releases your hair. You’re about to protest, or maybe plead for mercy, but he pushes you to lay on your back on the bed again, back inside of you before you can even think of a sentence.

“How about that thank you now?” He pounds into you, somehow even deeper from this position.  “Say it.”

“Shut up,” you say instead. The pause, brief as it was, only served to make you more desperate to come, and the last thing you need right now is to hear this. “Please just shut up.”

The necklace gleams over your chest, catching his attention. The Salesman runs a thumb over the sapphire, as if contemplating something, before he presses down on the pendant hard, digging it into your skin.

You gasp, throwing your head back. He’s moving fast enough that the bed rocks underneath you, the headboard slamming into the wall, his fingers still on the necklace like he wants to imprint it into your chest. It fucking hurts, the sharp metal edges unrelenting, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise. It makes your body sing, awakes the deeply-hidden, fucked up parts of you that crave this kind of pain.

“Every time you wake up,” the Salesman says, slightly out of breath himself, but much more composed than you, “and you look out of the window and see Paris, or anywhere that’s not the gutter in Seoul, you thank me for saving you.” He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust. “Say it.”

You don’t want to say it. Saying it makes you feel like it’s true, like you should give in and believe what he’s saying. That you are a piece of trash who got lucky, after all, and you should thank him for anything close to success that you achieve from now on. But your orgasm is so close you can feel the force of it numb your ears, your wrists; and in this moment, you would say anything, do anything, so long as he keeps you feeling this good.

“Thank you,” the words are just barely above a whisper, like you wish you could keep them to yourself as a shameful secret.

“For what?”

He gives you another hard thrust, almost painful if only the lines between pain and pleasure hadn’t been blurred a long time ago. You push your chest into an arch, the pendant digging even deeper into you until it breaks skin and the pain turns into agony.

“F-for saving me.”

“Good girl.”

You come then, thinking about the mark that the necklace will leave on you, thinking about how you’re going to feel it for days, how you’re going to remember it every time you feel it or see it. That there will be evidence on your body that he touched you this passionately. It feels like you’re floating, rising to the sky as you clench and unclench around him, as sound after humiliating sound leaves you.

You collapse back against the mattress when your orgasm finally lets you go, boneless and spent. You didn’t see or hear him come – in another situation, it might’ve upset you to miss it, if you weren’t still riding the aftershocks of that incredible high –, but he’s still against you, breathing hard into your neck. His release leaks from between your legs. He stays like that for a long time, slowly softening inside of you, before he finally pulls out and away from you.

You stay right where you are, unmoving. Somewhere far away, you think you can hear him searching for his clothes and dressing himself. You don’t want it to upset you, but it does; because of course he would come here, humiliate you, give you the best fuck of your life and then immediately leave, without so much as a word to you. Your head falls to the side, and even that small movement feels incredibly difficult, like your entire body is a limb that has fallen asleep. Your vision is blurry, far-away, until it finally focuses on the large window that overlooks the city. Tiny snowflakes flutter over the city lights and the dark night sky.

“It’s snowing.”

That pulls his attention to you. He’s got his pants and shirt on, the first few buttons undone, his once perfectly-styled hair a mess. He follows the line of your gaze to the window. “Were you looking forward to it?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It feels like forever ago since the last time you even thought about it. The Salesman was right; the city is beautiful at this time of the year.

You expect him to return to his clothes then head out the door. Instead, he reaches for the covers over the bed and wraps your naked body up in them like a baby. “Ow,” you hiss when he moves you, pain exploding on your chest where the necklace was pressed against you. A few drops of blood dry on your skin from when the skin had split. You feel the Salesman lift you bridal-style, much to your surprise, but you’re still too dazed to find it in you to question it.

He sits you both on the thick windowsill, him behind you and you leaning against his chest, framed by his legs. It’s gentle, somehow more intimate than you’ve ever been with him even after sleeping with him twice. You watch the snowfall outside, mesmerized, letting the steady rise-and-fall of his chest behind you soothe your aching muscles.

It’s the closest to safe you’ve felt in what feels like forever, and you’re crying before you even realize it.

Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop it. Your body trembles with the force of your sobs, tears flowing from your eyes like they haven’t since you were a little kid, at least not this openly. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against himself and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, keeping his lips right there against your scalp. He rocks you ever so slightly, shushing your cries, the sound as soothing as a soft lullaby. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sob. You think about the snow in Seoul, about how the first snowfall always made you excited, even when it happened every year. You can feel your tears rolling down your cheeks and into your neck, your collarbones. “I want to go home.”

“Then go home,” he says, like it’s simple.

“I can’t.” How can you walk the same streets you always did, as if your life wasn’t completely changed? As if the price you paid for this change wasn’t much, much greater than you could deal with? “You’re right. I have nothing. No one.”

“You had nothing. You can have anything you want now.” You want to tell him there are things money can’t buy, but you’re so tired, so exhausted. You can’t muster the willpower for much other than wallowing in your own misery, weeping in his arms like a child. “And you have me.”

That only makes you cry harder, shaking your head. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”

“Look at me.” He nudges you to turn to him, the angle awkward but it’s so worth it the second he cups your face in both hands, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “I mean it. Come back to Seoul.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your heavy eyelids. “You just need to see things from a different perspective. I can help you.”

He coaxes you to lay back against him, and you do so without protest, burying your face into his chest. For a moment you actually consider it. Dropping the plans you had for a next trip and following him to Seoul, letting him finish corrupting you with whatever twisted worldview he has. Maybe it would be blissful, you think, to see all that violence and bloodshed as a blessing, as something that saved you rather than ruined you. It has to be a trap, or another one of his games. But it doesn’t hurt to dream about it, just a little bit.

Little by little your crying subsides, your breaths returning to normal. He holds you through it all, stroking your hair in a way that’s so tender, so soft, like you’re fragile. Like he cares about you, or even loves you.

You silently wonder if he can love anyone at all, much less someone as broken as you.

With his fingers drawing circles on your scalp, you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

–––

You wake up alone. You’re still naked but on the bed, tucked into your blankets. There’s no confusion over what happened last night, no delusions that your brain would come up with a dream like that. There’s only memories hitting you like a truck, one after the other, and it’s too fucking early for this.

You pull yourself into a sitting position, and you jump at the sight of yourself on the mirror. You barely notice the smudged makeup from last night, your eyes going straight to the star of the show: the angry red spot right on the center of your chest, already turning into a deep purple at the center. You flinch before you even touch it, your hand hanging in the air halfway through like you’ve changed your mind. The necklace finishes it off like the cherry on top of the cake, the pair of precious stones right next to each other like eyes watching you, mocking you.

You button your coat all the way up before you leave the house.

It’s still early enough that the sun has just begun rising, coloring the sky in a bright blue that bleeds into the buildings and streets. There’s probably nothing open right now, but you could really use some coffee. Or a drink. Probably a drink.

You find him at Pont Neuf, watching the river below. There’s no one else around, the city in a rare moment of quiet and peace. He hasn’t spotted you yet, seemingly lost in thought, and it occurs to you that you could sneak up behind him, push him over the edge and just keep on walking. Sever your ties to him forever, and simply keep going like nothing ever happened, bury it along with all the other memories you try so hard to forget.

You don’t do it, but knowing you could brings you a bit of comfort. You lower your head and keep walking in the opposite direction, not sparing him another glance.

[sailorsoons]

Amnesia (c.sc)

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x f. reader

Summary: Choi Seungcheol has never been the type to commit to relationships - casual is more his thing. You’re fine with that - except you and Seungcheol seem to be terrible at casual when it comes to one another. 

Word Count: 11,920

Genre: Friends with benefits to lovers 

Type: Smut, Angst if you squint 

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Under the cut

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2: Thank you @yoongukie-ff for sending me your original reblog of this to pull the summary information from. I appreciate you and I love you!

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Warnings: Recreational drinking, mild jealousy from both reader and Cheol, themes of self doubt/relationship doubt, light depictions of anxiety regarding ambiguous relationships, explicit language, Cheol and reader are both idiots, explicit sexual content including oral (f. and m. receiving), vaginal fingering, nipple stim, breath play if you squint, unprotected vaginal sex, a lot of bodily fluids like spit and cum, multiple smut scenes, hair pulling, light spanking, sub-space adjacent feelings, being a lil silly goofy during sex sometimes, stupid ass nicknames at the end because I’m a millennial and I’m cringe sometimes. 

DAY ONE

You’re a goner as soon as you lay eyes on him. You know it before Jeonghan properly introduces you, shouting over the rock music that is blaring in the dive bar you like to hang out at on Friday nights. The neon from the sign creates a blue silhouette around Seungcheol as he smiles and holds a hand out to you. You can barely pull yourself together to shake his hand - warm, firm - too busy staring at his face. 

Choi Seungcheol is what your best friend Vin likes to call pretty motherfuckin handsome. He’s got dark, warm eyes that light up playfully when they meet yours, full lips the color of crushed rose petals, a square, firm jawline and silky dark hair that falls in his eyes when he tilts his face down to hide a smile at something Jeonghan says. 

Crushed against the wall of the booth, you feel the cold glass of your beer warm against your palms as you steal glances at Seungcheol. He’s directly across from you, angling his broad shoulders to fit snug into the corner of the booth, lounging backward as he observes the argument brewing between Joshua and Jeonghan. 

He even dresses well. Fitted t-shirt paired with light wash jeans and boots, a fancy watch reflecting the burning neon on the wall next to him, delicate chain necklaces tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

It’s the way he wears them that speaks to you, though. 

“Do they do this often?” his deep voice drags you from your reverie. You blink, gathering yourself when you realize he’s leaning forward a little, addressing you. He sips his beer before tilting the tip of the bottle toward Jeonghan and Joshua. “It’s like they're married.”

“You have no idea. Wait until game night.” 

“Oh yeah. Jeonghan told me about game night.” Seungcheol’s mouth twitches in a smile. “You’ll be there?” 

“Every Sunday. Do you like games?” 

Something about the glint in his eye makes your stomach flip. You sip your beer just to give you something to do, feeling more drunk off the easy confidence he exudes as he shrugs. “Depends on the game. I’m competitive.” 

“So am I.”

He grins. “I look forward to it, then.” 

Warming up to Seungcheol is easy. He’s the new hire at Jeonghan and Wonwoo’s office, and they both felt confident enough to bring him into the fold. You can see why - he’s kind and funny, and there’s a charm to him that draws the people around him like moths to a flame. Even with just the four of you sitting in the booth, you feel the magnetism. 

Friday nights at Rusty’s has been a tradition with Jeonghan and Joshua since you had been in college, filling yourself on five dollar wings, three dollar beers and occasionally lukewarm mozzarella sticks. Normally Vin, Wonwoo and Mingyu would be around, but tonight it’s just the smaller group. 

Jeonghan and Joshua slide out of the booth to play darts, shoving one another back and forth, the drink in their step making them a little off balance. You smile fondly as you pluck another beer out of the bucket of ice, struggling to pop the top, your wet hands sliding against the metal cap. 

Wordlessly, Seungcheol holds his hand out. Flushing from the neck down, you hand it over to him with a silent thank you. He pops the top easily, bicep flexing for a moment before he passes it back over, shooting you an award winning grin. 

“Wow, so strong.”

He pouts and you swear you see stars. “Hey, I am strong.” 

“No, no, you are. Thank you.” 

“You shouldn’t tease me. I’m new.” 

“Huh.” You sip your beer, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. It does nothing to soothe the heat spreading over your skin under the sole attention of Seungcheol. “I don’t remember that being a rule.” 

“I never was one to play by the rules anyway.” 

“Oh, so you’re saying you cheat at games like Jeonghan does.” 

“I like winning.”

You roll your eyes. From the edge of your vision, you see people leave the pool table. Eager to stand up and stretch your legs, you start to slide out of the booth, the wood grain scratching against your jeans as you do. 

“Come on then, cheater. Let’s play pool.” 

“I’m down.” 

Seungcheol follows you. Your fingers grip the glass of your drink tight, knuckles straining. You move around tables and duck around other patrons, hyper aware of the way Seungcheol keeps close to you, the heat of him against your back. 

Next to the rows of dart boards are two pool tables, the felt a faded green with beer stains and other mysterious smudges on the surface. You grab a cue from the rack on the wall, spin it in your hands, and hand it over to Seungcheol. He eyes it, running his fingers along the splintered and dented wood.

Grabbing your cue in one hand and the triangle rack and set it on the table while he collects the balls from the table and the pockets, rolling them over to you. A few feet away, Joshua is already accusing Jeonghan of cheating. You don’t know how you cheat in darts, but you do know if there is a will, Jeonghan will find a way.

“Dangerous to let them have sharp objects,” Seungcheol notes, sliding the last ball over to you. You huff out a laugh, rolling the rack of billiard balls back and forth to set them. “You’re not going to get violent with me, right?”

“I don’t know, are you going to cheat?”

His smile is wicked. “Me? Definitely not.” 

“Hmm. Not convincing.”

Seungcheol presses the flat of his palm over his chest, drawing your eyes to how thick he is in the chest area. You swallow thickly as he says, “Cross my heart.” 

“Whatever you say. What are we playing for?” 

“What will you give me?” 

You look up at the shift in his tone. Dark. Flirty. He leans against the pool table, resting his hip casually as he crosses his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his arms flex, totally focused on the way his eyes are only for you. Intent. Meaningful. 

A warning goes off in your head. You already feel the pull to him, the innate attraction that has your heart hammering. You should brush off the flirtation, move on to other things. Relationships aren’t really your thing, but there’s something about him that makes you know you’ll want more. 

You already do want more. 

“What do you want?” you ask softly, ignoring your better judgment. 

When Seungcheol smiles, you know you’d give him anything. Everything.

“I can think of something, I think.”

-

DAY SEVEN

“I like this,” Seungcheol says, voice rough from use. He buttons his jeans, looking over at you. You’re still half-alive on your bed, a sheen of sweat covering your body. The sheets stick to you when you roll to look at him. “Are you good with casual?”

You’re only half listening, too distracted by his flexing abs. “Hmm?”

Seungcheol looks good tonight. He looks good every night, but tonight he’s in dark jeans and a white sweater. The sweater looks soft like his hair, which has grown longer and hangs in his eyes as he looks down to slip on his shoes. 

“I’m not really looking for a relationship at the moment but this,” he answers, flicking his fingers between the two of you. “It’s good.” 

“Agreed. I’m good with casual. I’m a little too busy for anything more.” 

It’s not a lie. You are too busy to really commit to someone. Again, a warning goes off in your mind like that first night you met him, screaming danger. You ignore it, not ready to give up Seungcheol just yet. 

He grins, pulling his short back over his head. “Cool. If you ever don’t want to or whatever though, let me know, yeah?”

“You too.” 

-

DAY TEN 

Seungcheol [2:06 AM]: Come home with me You [2:06 AM]: Everyone would notice Seungcheol [2:07 AM]: Tell them where you’re going who caaaares Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Unless you don’t want to tell them then that’s ok Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: I personally don’t care if they know I’m rearranging your guts most nights :)  You [2:10 AM]: CHEOL You [2:10 AM]: Fine pls hold my hand while I do this. They’re going to roast me Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: Holding your hand sooo tight Seungcheol [2:08 AM]: But from like over here tho  You [2:19 AM]: That was so embarrassing. Where did you go Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: She’s so brave, she’s well behaved Seungcheol [2:19 AM]: Standing outside hurry it's cold as dick out here

Seungcheol [4:38 AM]: Don’t forget to text me when you make it home  You [4:52 AM]: Home safe!  

-

DAY TWENTY THREE

You [11:10 PM]: Wyd Seungcheol [11:34 PM]: Need it that bad? You [11:39 PM]: Wow goodnight!!!!! Seungcheol [11:39 PM]: Nah come back Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: COME BACK Seungcheol [11:43 PM]: Omw. Unlock the door You [11:45 PM]: Need it that bad?  Seungcheol [11:45 PM]: Yes actually :) 

-

DAY THIRTY

You slide your finger across the phone, curious as you pick up Seungcheol’s phone call. “Hello?”

“Are you hungry?” 

You look at your watch. It’s almost one in the afternoon, your stomach growling as it realizes that yeah you are kind of hungry. “Actually yeah. Why?” 

“I had to run errands and I’m by your place and starving. Wanna get lunch?” 

Your lips twitch in a smile. Leaning against the counter, you press the phone against you a little closer. “Sure, what did you have in mind?” 

“Do you like Greek?” You hum in assent, chewing on your fingernail nervously. You can hear him get into his car, pausing momentarily as he starts it and curses at how hot it is. You can’t help but laugh. “Alright, pick you up in ten?”

“Alright.” 

-

DAY FORTY THREE

He’s not yours. You tell yourself that over and over again as you try not to look across the bar where Seungcheol is sitting for the nth time. You’d noticed him immediately when you and Vin walked in, clocking his wide frame and familiar laugh with a precision that makes you curse yourself.

Now, Seungcheol is leaning against a high top, talking to a pretty girl sitting on a stool next to him. He’d waved at you earlier and shot you a smile and a wink, but he’s with friends you’re unfamiliar with tonight, and hasn’t come over.

Not that you expect him to. He isn’t yours and the casual thing you’ve got going means he can do whatever he wants, no strings attached.

So why is your heart in your throat as you glance over to see the girl laughing at something he’s said? They’re not alone but somehow that isn’t comforting at all. You pick at the varnish on the table to distract yourself, suddenly interested in the splinters and not the man across the bar from you.

Finishing the rest of your beer, you pull out another, hoping that the hoppy taste erases the icky feeling that settles on your skin. You’re not participating in conversation much, but if your friends notice, they have the decency not to call you out. 

At least Vin knows what’s up, checking on you every once in a while. Thankfully she doesn’t say anything, occasionally giving you a squeeze instead. She knows the deal, understanding the irrationality between wanting to control something that isn’t yours to control. 

Halfway through your beer, your phone vibrates. You flip it over and your heart starts pounding when you see Seungcheol’s name come across the screen, a message waiting to be read. With a shaky hand, you slide your thumb across the screen to unlock it, the message popping up.

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: Wanna come back to mine? 

Surprised, you look up from your phone to where he’s still at the high top. His phone is in his hands and he’s looking right at you, flashing a grin when you meet his eyes. The girl is still sitting next to him, but his attention is entirely on you now, pinning you to the spot. 

Your phone vibrates again and you glance down, your phone’s brightness stark in the gloom of the bar. 

Seungcheol [12:13 AM]: You’re cute when you’re surprised You [12:14 AM]: What, the girl you were talking to said no? Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: I didn’t ask her. I asked you Seungcheol [12:14 AM]: Omg wait are you jealous?? You [12:14 AM]: No You [12:14 AM]: Definitely not  Seungcheol [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me is Hades for a liar or whatever You [12:17 AM]: Hateful to me as the gates of Hades is that man who hides one thing in his heart and speaks another, loser Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Same thing Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: But seriously, I have no interest in her. I’m asking YOU Seungcheol [12:18 AM]: Will beg from my knees in this bar Seungcheol [12:19 AM]: Even tho the floor is kind of gross You [12:20 AM]: I mean, if you’re offering to get on your knees…

You’re not sure if you trust his answer about not being interested in the other girl, but it doesn’t matter. You still end up leaning against him in an Uber, his hand squeezing your thigh playfully as he leans his forehead on the window, eyes closed to enjoy the cool glass. 

He is so handsome, face glowing red as the car stops at a stoplight. You examine him closely, eyes dragging from the soft curve of his mouth to his impossibly silk lashes. You’d told him once that most girls would kill for those lashes, and now he likes to bat them at you every time he wants something. 

The car starts moving and you look away from him, taking in a deep breath. Seungcheol isn’t yours, but you’re starting to think you want him to be. 

DAY FIFTY TWO

“Is it weird if I bring a bag of shit to stay?” Seungcheol’s voice is shy over the receiver. You grip your phone tighter, biting your bottom lip to hide your smile as you roll onto your side in bed, snuggling into the pillow more. It smells like him, bergamot and cedarwood. “You can tell me if that’s weird.”

“Not weird at all,” you say carefully, too nervous to scare him off. “You usually end up sleeping here anyway.” 

Usually really means always. He’s been doing that more recently, crashing at your apartment after coming over and vice versa. You’ve gone from Uber rides home at dawn to waking up curled into his back. He’s the first person you’ve ever let loiter in your space as much as he has, but you try not to think about it too much, as though just the acknowledgement might spook him.

Whatever thing between you feels fragile, a rare, glass menagerie set that can shatter if handled wrong. Friends with benefits is what you call it, but you’re not quite sure if that’s what it is.

“Okay cool. Waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go back to my place and shower sucks.” 

“I do have a shower.”

“Oh I’m aware. It’s one of my favorite places in your apartment.” 

Your stomach flutters and you clench your thighs together. Looking at the clock on your nightstand, you realize it’s getting late. “Better hurry,” you murmur. “I might be too tired for a shower when you get here.” 

His chuckle is deep. Throaty. “I’ll speed, then.” 

After hanging up, you toss your phone to the end of your bed and stare at the ceiling. Outside, the city hums beyond the window of your apartment. The lights in your home are mostly turned off, a single lamp providing low light in the living room so Seungcheol can see when he comes in, and a flickering candle on your nightstand and in the bathroom. 

Your bed is warm and you do feel sleepy, but the excitement of seeing Seungcheol keeps you awake well enough. You try not to think of that too much, either. He was just there a few nights prior, and already he’s on his way back. Like it’s common. Routine. 

And it sort of is, you guess. You hangout with Seungcheol almost more than you see Vin and Jeonghan these days, and you’re almost always spending the night together. You know his favorite late night snacks, you know the type of coffee he likes to make in the morning before work, and you know about his family, his stresses at work. What makes him tick. 

It’s more than you ever thought you’d know about him when you agreed to keep your sex life with him casual and at a distance. He is anything but at a distance. 

Seungcheol must speed, because it feels like hardly any time has passed when you hear your apartment door open and shut, the sound of the deadbolt clicking. You lift yourself up to lean on your elbows, watching from your bed as he enters your line of vision, a backpack over one shoulder. 

He’s dressed in a long t-shirt and sweats, cozy and warm and still unbelievably good looking. He grins when he sees you, eyes creasing at the corners as he enters your room and drops his bag by your door. 

Without saying anything, Seungcheol crawls onto your bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he inches up over you. Falling backward onto the mattress, you let him loom over you. Heat radiates from his body, warming you up. Your heart thuds as he ducks down, his hands bracketing your head as he cages you in. He brushes his nose against yours and you feel sparks, trying to regulate your breathing. 

“Hi,” he whispers. 

“Hi,” you whisper back, reaching your hands up to rest on his hips. He reacts, pressing his waist into yours a little, making you bear his weight. “Ugh, heavy.” 

“Too bad.” 

Seungcheol’s teeth nip your jaw, making your hips twitch upward. You can feel the smirk against your skin as he presses a wet kiss under your ear, moving his way to your neck. 

“I was promised a shower.”

“Maybe I’m too tired,” You murmur.

He hums, leaning more of his weight into you. It’s comforting, not crushing, and you can feel the way his heart is beating wildly in his chest, in tune with yours. You smell bergamot and cedarwood, making your thoughts dizzy and scattered while he whispers, “I’ll wash your hair.” 

“Hmmm. I’m listening.” 

He presses a wet kiss to your pulse point, tongue laving against your skin. Your fingers twist in his shirt, your muscles tensing as you fight off a shiver. You can hear his soft breath, the way the sheets shift under the two of you, the way your heart hammers.  

“I’ll massage your shoulders…” 

“Hmm.” 

His teeth scrape against your throat and you sigh, arching up into him, eyes closed. “I’ll eat you out.” 

Fuck. You’re putty in his hands. Seungcheol could get you to do anything he asked. You don’t know if he knows - you’re too afraid to show him, to let him in on the secret out of fear of what it would mean to him. If it was too much, too deep.

But like this, it’s hard not to hide it. Especially when his filthy mouth hits a weak point in you, turning you thoughtless as you nod your head in response, nails digging into his hip bones through the fabric of his shirt. He makes a noise in response, leaning up off of you reluctantly but pulling you with him. 

Dropping his hands, you head to the bathroom, feeling uneven. Seungcheol whines and grabs you to pull you back toward him. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly. 

“You haven’t even given me a kiss,” he pouts, looking down at you through long, dark lashes. “I want a kiss.” 

This is the problem with Seungcheol. He says things like this when you’re supposed to be casual, something easy and without feelings and without strings. But this feels like something, it feels like there's a thread connecting you, tugging your mouth to his because of course you indulge him.

You always do. 

Seungcheol’s lips are soft and taste faintly of his cherry chapstick. You smile into the kiss, standing on your tiptoes to press closer to him. He kisses you back eagerly, slotting his lips against yours and humming with delight. When you pull away, he’s smug, grinning happily. 

“Come on,” he urges, now leading the charge as he pulls you by the hand toward your bathroom. 

Instead of turning on the light, Seungcheol uses the glow of the burning candle on the counter to navigate. He drops your hand to open up the cabinets and pulls out two towels as you trail to the shower, opening the glass door to lean in and turn it on. 

Steam starts to fill the room as you close the shower door and turn to him. He sets the towels on the counter, not bothering to shut the door to the bedroom. Instead, he grips the bottom of his shirt and peels it upward and over his head, revealing all toned muscle and tan skin. 

He momentarily distracts you. Seungcheol is a work of art, equal parts rippling muscle and soft skin. You slide your shorts down, distracted by the way he looks in the golden shroud of the candle light, sliding his sweatpants down his legs. 

Sensing your eyes, he lifts his head as he kicks off his sweats, briefs slung low on his hips. “Admiring me?” 

“Shut up.” 

Looking away, you take off your shirt, feeling the heat flush from your cheeks down to your neck. He chuckles, peeling off his briefs before kicking them toward the sink and striding toward the shower. He stops to kiss you on the cheek as he pulls open the door. 

“I don’t mind,” he teases. “I like it.” 

It’s true. Seungcheol has always had the easy confidence of someone who is comfortable in their skin. You admire that about him - and envy him a little. Seungcheol never seems to worry what others think of him, nor does he seem embarrassed or concerned about making the wrong move. Saying the wrong thing. 

Steam hits you full on as you step into the shower. Seungcheol is already standing under the spray of water, his back turned toward you. For a moment you admire him again, watching the way the water sluices down his broad back and narrow waist. 

Your eyes drift to the tattoo at his neck, the branches of the tree stretching toward his shoulders. You’ve traced that tree with the tips of your fingers and tongue over and over again, fascinated about the way the ink flexes when he moves. 

A chill catches you, making you shiver and step toward the heat of the water. He senses your approach, turning his head to the side to look at you over his shoulder. He grins, reaching a hand back toward you to pull you close. You lace your fingers, letting him pull you into him as he turns. 

Hot water hits your skin, immediately soothing. You sigh, leaning into the firmness of him, Seungcheol’s arms wrapping around you. He catches your mouth again, your eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you slowly, tongue lazy as he licks into your mouth. 

Seungcheol’s hands spread across your back, fingers digging in a little as he starts to explore, one hand surging up and the other down. You moan into his mouth as the hand that drifts down grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing a little. His mouth curves into the kiss and you feel his teeth pull at your bottom lip, something he knows you love.

As always, you’re a goner. You don’t stand a chance with him. Not that first night and not now when he kisses you like something more. Not when he slides his hand around to your front, pressed between your bodies to run his fingers up the wet folds of your pussy. 

He groans into the kiss that has turned sloppy, hungry. “Fucking wet.”

“We’re in the shower.” 

He growls and pulls his mouth from you to attach to your neck, biting and sucking harshly. You let out a breathy sound, head tilting back heavily as you feel his tongue lick the water from your skin. “Don’t take away my credit.” 

“The only crime is pride.”

The pads of his fingers press into your clit, making your knees knock together and the breath leave your lungs. He smiles against your neck, humming. “Which classic are you quoting at me today?” 

“Antigone by Sophocles.” 

“What’s that one about?” 

Finding words is nearly impossible. The heat of the shower has you flushed and distracted, the steam making it harder to breathe, thoughts sticky as Seungcheol continues to tease you, fingers dragging down to your clenching entrance to press his fingers in slightly before dragging them back up.

Your nails bite into the back of his neck, clinging to him for life as he holds you up, one arm looped around your back to press you to him while the other makes all your thoughts scattered. 

“Come on,” he urges gently, bringing his face to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, nudging. “Tell me.” 

“She was a tragic character in a play written by Sophocles,” you sigh. “She was the daughter of Oedipus.” 

“The guy who fucked his mom?”

Your laughter bubbles out of you. He laughs too, his hold tightening. “Yeah, Cheol. The guy who fucked his mom.”

“Craaazy family.” 

“Do you really want to talk about Greek tragedy incest right now?”

“Nope,” he says happily. “I do want to eat this pussy though.” 

Seungcheol flips gears so quickly that it’s hard to keep up. He swings you toward the glass wall of the shower, pressing your chest against it. You moan loudly, startled by the cool glass against your hard nipples. The contrast of hot water and the cool glass feels good, your eyes fluttering shut as Seungcheol drops to his knees behind you. He gently presses the inside of your knees, urging you to spread your legs. 

“Just like that,” he encourages, hands ghosting upward to squeeze your ass. He pulls your hips away from the glass and toward him, groaning as he comes face level to your cunt. “Fuck.”

Your breath fogs the glass. It’s cold when you press your palms against it, holding yourself up as Seungcheol dips forward, running the flat of his tongue down your slit. You let out a pathetic sound and he laughs, fingers squeezing your flesh. 

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. You melt, knees shaking and unsteady as Seungcheols tongue leisurely explores your folds, dipping into your entrance before dragging up to circle your clit. 

One of your hands leaves the glass to reach back, sinking into the wet strands of his hair and holding him to you. He grunts in pleasure, the buzz of his mouth adding to the simulation as he fastens his lips to you, sucking gently. 

Seungcheol’s mouth is a weapon. You fall apart under the warmth of his lips, the softness of his tongue. He sucks at your core, greedy and pleased, fingers digging into you as he presses in further. He can never get enough, the wet sounds of his hunger making your toes curl.

“Feels so good,” you pant against the glass. Your nails scrape against his scalp and he moans loudly, muffled by your cunt. “Your fucking mouth.” 

“Mmm. Love you like this.” His tongue flicks expertly across your clit and you feel your thighs clench, legs shaking as your orgasm spools inside of you. “God this shower hurts my fucking knees though.”

“You wanted to eat me out in the shower.”

A hand cracks across your ass cheek, making you arch against the glass. He chuckles, tongue diving back, words slurred as he mutters, “And I’d do it again.”

Seungcheol’s mouth feels divine. You go quiet as he sucks at you, focused on the warmth spreading through you and the way your breath starts to stutter, limbs locking up. 

When you come, you go boneless. Seungcheol holds you up, pressing you against the glass as he licks you through your orgasm. You twitch against him, nails dragging in his hair, your other hand sliding against the glass as you fight to grip anything to ground you.

Breathing raggedly, you sag when he pulls his face from you and stands. He groans and you grin, knowing his knees hurt from the tile of the shower. He doesn’t care, though. He crowds you in, cock pressed against your backside as his arms loop around you. 

“Kiss me.” His voice is soft, needy. 

Turning your face over your shoulder, you let him catch his mouth with yours, all tongue and cum and spit. You don’t care, pushing into him. One of his hands slides down between your legs, making you whimper into his mouth as he slides his fingers through your sticky folds to press two of them into your entrance. 

Seungcheol is a giver. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve slept together or had brief, fast encounters, he always makes it a point to please you. To go out of his way to make you shake against him, like he needs it. 

He keeps your mouth melded to his as his fingers fuck you slowly. You clench around his fingers, moaning his name as he presses them against the soft spot inside of you. You see stars, panting into his mouth as he strings you along, dragging you toward another orgasm. 

It’s slow. Intimate. His mouth is hot and wet, sucking at biting at your bottom lip. His other hand snakes up to your throat, not applying pressure but gripping you, holding you to him. If he didn’t have you so tightly pressed to the glass, you think you’d collapse.

“You won’t fall,” he breathes into your mouth, reading your mind. “I’ve got you.”

“My knees are fucking useless right now.”

“You’re tough. Come on, I know you can give me more.” 

You’ll give him anything he asks. You feel your heart slamming in your chest as he works you up again, feel the ragged breathing until you momentarily stop, everything tense and suspended as you clench around his fingers, shuddering violently as you come. 

“Knew it,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

A whine leaves you at the praise, head shaking back and forth a little as the oversensitivity makes you squirm. He works you through it, mouth pressed to your ear, whispering to breathe, baby as he strokes you gently until you’re leaning against him heavily. 

Seungcheol removes his hand but keeps holding you up, letting you catch your breath. He peppers innocent kisses along your shoulder, lips brushing your skin tenderly. When you stand up with more strength, he pats you on the hip, gentle.

“Good?”

“Mhmm.” Craning over your shoulder, you catch his chin with your mouth, kissing softly. You press your ass into him, feeling his straining cock. “Come on.” 

“Yeah?”

“All good.”

“Thank fuck. Thought I lost you.”

“I’ve had worse,” you grin, a little tired.

He kisses you, patting you approvingly before he grinds the tip of his cock between your legs. He groans deep in his chest, grip on you tightening for a moment. You reach behind you, gripping the base of his cock firmly, stroking gently before lining him up with your entrance. 

Seungcheol pushes in, both of you whining in harmony at the feeling. It feels good, your pussy throbbing around him as he presses in slowly, letting you feel the stretch. He clings to you, trying to keep it together as you flutter around him. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, more to himself than you. “Shit.” 

Gently, Seungcheol starts to fuck you against the glass, strokes deep and slow. It’s mind-numbingly good, your cheek cool and pressed against the shower wall, Seungcheol’s face buried in your neck, breath puffing against your skin. 

He holds you reverently, both hands on your hips to keep you where he wants you. You reach one hand behind your head, holding the back of his neck, nails digging into his skin. He hums happily, always pleased when you bite and scratch him.

That had been a surprise. You always thought he wouldn’t want you to mark him, that he wouldn’t want evidence of your time spent together. Seungcheol is the opposite though, urging you to rake your nails across soft skin, to bite at him and bruise him. 

Your feet slide apart a little as he strengthens his thrusts. You squeal, hand smacking the glass to hold yourself up. He lets out a loud laugh, pausing to let you fix your stance. He taps your thigh in question and you nod, lifting your leg a little to let him slide a hand under your thigh to press it against the shower wall for better grip.

When he rolls his hips into you this time, it’s deeper, making you tremble against the glass. A groan drips from Seungcheol’s mouth as he sets his pace, pinning you between him and the glass with nothing to do but to take what he gives you. 

“Can you do another?” he asks, breath shaky. His fingers squeeze your thigh for emphasis, the snap of his hips getting stronger. You nod, unable to answer verbally. He huffs, half laughter, half something else. “Yeah you can.” 

And you can. Seungcheol can pull pleasure out of you like thread from a loom, his skilled hands guiding you where he wants you to go. It’s easy for him, the way he knows your body so acute and familiar that the thought alone makes you unravel a little, your whines muted by the glass. 

He makes you come like that, stuck between his warmth and the cold, the two contrasts keeping you suspended as you seize up around him. He grunts at the feeling, hips sloppy, losing their rhythm until he clenches up, growling your name into your neck as he tips over the edge after you. 

For a few moments, you remain melded together, panting in time. Seungcheol makes no rush of peeling himself away from you. Instead, he’s content to mouth at your shoulder and neck, running his nose along your throat. You squirm and laugh, ticklish. 

Grinning, he does it again, nuzzling into you and making you laugh, sound echoing in the shower. “Seungcheol!”

“It’s cute.” 

“Come on,” you urge. “You said you’d wash my hair.” 

He steals a kiss. “Alright, alright. Pass me the shampoo.” 

-

DAY FIFTY SEVEN

“Who is that?” Seungcheol asks, jerking his head toward the bar. You turn and follow his gaze to see Seokmin standing at the bar, ordering drinks. “Never seen him before.”

“Jealous?” You tease, leaning forward and batting your eyelashes at him. Seokmin is just a coworker, but it doesn’t mean you can’t poke Seungcheol a little. Except Seungcheol doesn’t laugh, leveling you with a stare, lips turning downward. “Wait, you actually are.”

“Don’t push it. It was just a question.”

“We work together,” you clarify, immediately turning off the charm when you recognize he’s not amused. “Actually I think he sort of has a thing for Vin, which is why he’s here.” 

Seungcheol hums, sipping his beer and looking away from you. Licking your lips, you reach out a hand and touch his gently, bringing his dark eyes back to you. He looks serious - more serious than you’ve ever seen him, face blank, eyes unreadable. 

“I mean it.” You squeeze his hand, trying to comfort him. “We’re just friends.” 

“Alright.” 

“I feel like you’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad?” 

You shrug, struggling to articulate. He still has that expression you can’t read, something stark and closed off. “Just seems like it.” 

He shakes his head again, but you don’t think he’s telling the truth, watching the way his eyes shift to watch Seokmin approach. “Just tired, I think I might head out.” 

Panic grips you and you say the first thing you can think of, throwing caution to the wind. “Want to come over?” 

That gives him pause. He studies you. You feel a tightness in your throat under his scrutiny. His mouth twitches and he nods. “Alright,” he says softly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.” You squeeze his hand again. “Really.”

-

DAY SEVENTY EIGHT

“Want to do me a huge favor?” 

You look up from your spot on your couch. Seungcheol is in your kitchen, using his hip to close the door to the fridge. He lifts the lid on the package of grapes, plastic cracking loudly as he does. Leaning against the counter, he pops one into his mouth, crunching happily. 

“Besides giving you my grapes?” you ask, deadpan. He grins around them shrugging happily as he eats another. You roll your eyes, turning back to the laptop carefully balanced on your knee. “What’s the favor?” 

“We have this giant New Years Eve party at work in two weeks and I need a date.”

That gives you pause. You stare at the computer screen but you can’t make out anything on the screen. You don’t dare to turn and look at Seungcheol, fearful that the feelings his question brings out will be right on the surface of your expression.

Date. It’s a scary word. You and Seungcheol sort of go on dates all the time, but they’re not really dates. At least, not from your perspective. If you were to ask Jeonghan, he would launch into another lecture that you should just put a goddamn title on this thing. Vin happily agrees, both of them hammering you on calling the thing between you and Seuncheol what it is.

But it’s friends with benefits. Friends go out to eat meals together and go shopping together - they hangout. The benefits are the sex. It’s the pressing you against your mattress as he maps your body with his mouth, it’s the way you sink to your knees for him after he’s had a bad day at work, taking him into the heat of your mouth to make him forget. 

So yes, you’ve gone places together alone and as a friend date. But somehow this feels different, and you don’t think it’s supposed to. 

Carefully, you ask, “Your date, huh?”

“Mhmm. Free drinks and apps, and it’s at the top of that fancy new hotel. We can stay the night so we don’t have to pay for an expensive as fuck Uber” 

Not for the first time, you find yourself unsure where the line is with Seungcheol. You’ve agreed multiple times that this is just casual, a shared benefit between friends. And yet every time you feel confident in what you are, the line blurs. 

You’re as guilty as he is, you know. On more than one occasion you’re the one who has crossed the line, messing up the clear boundary the two of you have had in place for weeks. Somehow, you both manage to be utterly terrible at casual, but you’re too afraid to say something about it. Too afraid to ruin it. 

“I suppose I can be convinced.” 

“Oh? What can I do to convince you?” 

You look up as his tone turns to velvet, that voice he uses when he’s coaxing you into his lap, or when he’s- 

“It’s really hard to be sexy when there’s grape juice running down your chin, Cheol.” 

He pouts, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the lower half of his face as you laugh. He’s cute, pink lips downturned and eyes round as he sulks. “Don’t make fun of me. Just say yes to being my date.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go.” 

His grin is burnished gold, the sun breaking for first light over the horizon. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” He crunches into another grape and you scowl. “Stop eating all my fucking grapes!” 

-

DAY NINETY TWO

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol mutters when you step out of the hotel bedroom. He feels his heart start to pound in his chest from where he stands in the kitchenette, fingers squeezing the glass of whiskey he poured himself earlier. “You look unreal.”

And you do. You always do. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when Jeonghan and Joshua introduced the two of you that first night at that shitty bar you like to go to on Fridays. The real kicker had been your personality, though. Warm, kind, quick wit. A bit of a history nerd, which is his favorite thing. 

Honestly, he loves a lot of things about you. He knows that he has to do something about that. Knows that this stopped being casual a long time ago. Seungcheol has no problem with casual hookups and keeping people in a rotation, but when it comes to you… he just wants you. 

It’s like he has no idea how to keep his distance, how to keep his feelings out of it. He doesn’t mind, but he needs to figure out how to tell you. How to take that next step and move you from friends to more - if that’s what you want, anyway. 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you say back neutrally. He can see the way your eyes linger on him though, your gaze betraying the calmness of your voice, as always.

You don’t get it, though. Seungcheol cannot keep his eyes off you, dragging them from top to bottom. The black dress is snug on your frame, his eyes tracing the swells of your breasts, the dip of your hips, the curve of your ass and thighs. 

Dragging his eyes back up, he meets your gaze. That is one of his favorite things. Your eyes, full of light and depth and thoughts that he always wants to fall into. There is so much simmering under the surface that you don’t say and he’s never asked.

He wants to. 

Knocking back the rest of his drink, Seungcheol leaves the glass on the counter and walks over to you. You shift from foot to foot, eyes darting up to examine the ceiling. He smirks, feeling the nerves radiating from you as he approaches. 

When he reaches out, you don’t step away from him. You let him skim his hands up your sides, going until he’s running them over your shoulders and on either side of your neck so he can cradle your face. He turns your gaze back to him and you stare up at him through your lashes. 

He was a goner on day one. How ridiculous to think he’s not just made this real, told you how he doesn’t want a single thing to be casual and superficial between you. 

Instead of stealing a searing kiss and pushing you back into the bedroom like he wants to, Seungcheol presses a short kiss to the corner of your mouth. He’s too afraid that if he starts something that you won’t make it downstairs. 

Now isn’t the time for that, though. There’s a party upstairs and free drinks and he wants to spend time with his friends. Spend time with you.

The Seungcheol that existed before you is a stranger to him. He barely remembers what it was like to have people he wasn’t genuinely interested in, what it was like to show up alone at parties and take someone home. Hardly recalls pushing people away when they wanted too much. 

All it took was meeting you.

“Come on,” he urges gently, leading you from the room and to the elevator. 

Seungcheol slides his phone from his pocket in the elevator. You press close against him, your arm brushing against his as it fills up with people. He notes where Wonwoo tells him to meet and puts his phone back in his pocket, leaning into you a little.

You let him, making his mouth twitch upward. You always let him do what he wants, and when you don’t, an easy pout gets his way. He’s wrapped around your finger, too. He doesn’t know if you realize it, but he would give you anything you wanted without a moment's hesitation. 

When the elevator doors open, Seungcheol takes your hand. You let him pull you into the party teeming with people, the sound of music swelling over the dull roar of the crowd. You stick closer to him, fingers squeezing him tightly as the pair of you walk toward the check-in table. 

“This is beautiful,” you murmur to him. 

His first instinct is to look at you because you are beautiful. You’re not looking at him, your neck craned to sweep over the party. He smiles at you, watching the glow of your side profile, eyes wide with wonder.

Dragging his eyes from your face, he glances around the party. It is gorgeous, with views of the entire city glittering beneath the building like a bed of stars, shimmering decorations reflecting the golden lights, a giant clock to show the time, and massive flower arrangements. 

“It’s nice,” he agrees, shuffling to the table where he gives his name. “Choi Seungcheol.”

“Perfect, thanks.” The person working the table peels two wristbands and gestures for you both to hold out your wrists. You let go of his hand to do so, letting the attendant wrap your arm in a blue band. “Have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Choi.” 

Both of you blink in surprise. You open and close your mouth as if you’re unsure how to correct them and Seungcheol laughs, shrugging as he takes your hand and leads you out of the line and into the party proper this time.

“This way, wifey.” 

You roll your eyes but grin anyway, looping your arm through his offered one and tugging him close. He’s satisfied, leading you through the tight crowd of people toward the south bar that Wonwoo had said their friends were waiting at.

Joshua spots you and waves you both over, making room at the bar for you to join. Jeonghan’s eyes flick to where your arm is looped through Seungcheol to Seungcheol himself, raising a brow. Seungcheol glares at him, urging him to shut up and Jeonghan grins, turning to order drinks at the bar. 

Wonwoo claps Seungcheol on the back in greeting before kissing you on both cheeks and letting you sit on the only barstool available. Seungcheol moves with you pressed to your back as he leans an elbow on the bar, keeping you close. You lean into him, earning a shy smile that he tries to hide behind the rim of the champagne glass that Jeonghan hands him.

He likes this. He likes being with his friends. He likes the way you laugh and lean back further into him when you do. He likes that his friends don’t bother the two of you about being attached at the hip. And he likes the way your face lights up every time he jokingly calls you wifey. 

Seungcheol wants this. 

He doesn’t recall the last time he wanted a relationship the way he wants with you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Everything before you is gone and forgotten, and what matters now are the things that are post-meeting-you. 

Plied with lots of champagne and your laughter, Seungcheol lets you drag him onto the dance floor, wrapping your arms around him as he spins you. He doesn’t know what has him more drunk, the alcohol or you. He thinks it might be you. 

The DJ announces that it’s one minute until midnight, making Seungcheol spin and look up at the clock. The partygoers cheer, clustering together to press toward the clock to count down. Seungcheol wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you close in the tight crowd. 

His heart flutters as he watches the numbers countdown, realizing he gets to kiss you at midnight. He’s kissed you over a hundred times by now, but the prospect makes him giddy. His heart races as the numbers drop and he looks at you from the corner of your eye.

You’re watching the clock, uncontrolled happiness on your face as you yell with the rest of the crowd, counting each number as it passes by. 

When the clock strikes midnight, you peer up at him, suddenly unsure. He can’t believe you don’t see it, that you’d doubt for one second that he wants you to be his first kiss of the year. His heart seizes, dipping down with a smile to press his lips to yours.

Your mouth is warm and champagne-sweet, making him groan in the back of his throat. Your fingers cling to his hip, holding him by the waist as he slips a hand up to the back of your neck to hold you in place, deepening the kiss. 

When you pull your mouth away, he makes up his mind. Fuck everything he said about keeping it casual - he doesn’t want to go another minute without you knowing what he wants. 

-

DAY NINETY THREE

“Be my girlfriend.”

The words that come from Seungcheol’s lips catch you off guard. A giggle bursts to your lips and you lean back, trying to examine him from a little farther away. You feel the glitter of champagne in your veins and the same buzz that comes with being near Seungcheol, wondering if maybe he’s had too much to drink.

“What?” you ask, examining his face. He’s flushed, lips pink and smiling, but his eyes are dark and serious.

“Be my girlfriend,” he says again, this time quieter. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath fans your face, warm and sweetened by champagne. “I know we agreed to be casual so if you don’t want more, that’s fine. But there is nothing casual about the way I feel about you.”

Heart thundering, you laugh and cling to him a little tighter. He nudges you with his head, as though asking what’s so funny. You don’t know how to put into words that you’ve wanted to be not casual for a long time, that you are dizzy with the prospect of being something more, that he’s just made the first minute of your year perfect.

Instead of trying to string together the words to tell him, you kiss him. His mouth turns upward, letting you press your palms to the sides of his face, holding him to your lips. There’s no one else but just the two of you, entirely in your own bubble on the rooftop. 

Relief mixed with euphoria floods your system. It’s a weight lifted off your shoulders, realizing that you’re not crazy, that nothing you feel about Seungcheol is casual and that’s okay. That he feels it too. 

Your fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck, pulling slightly. He groans, separating your mouths to peer down at you, his lashes fanning when he blinks, dazed. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispers. “This is a work party. I’ll fold right here.” 

“So take me somewhere that isn’t here and fold.”

His gummy smile is blinding, your heart soaring. “Alright, wifey.” 

“Gonna need a ring pop at a minimum if you’re gonna keep saying that shit.”

He links your fingers together, stepping away from you. He tugs you after him and you follow. “Deal. What flavor?”

“Strawberry. I kind of want to suck something else right now, though.” 

Seungcheol groans and you laugh, loving the way he visibly struggles as your words land. He walks faster, a new pep in his step as you make your way toward the elevator. He shouts Wonwoo’s name as he goes, waving his hand to tell him that you’re leaving. 

Wonwoo’s grin is all-knowing as he throws two thumbs up, cheering happily. You tingle with a little bit of embarrassment, scurrying toward the closing elevator door to catch it. It opens again and you both slip inside, alone and buzzing from the party and your newfound status. 

The door closes and Seungcheol pushes in close. You press against the wall, looking up at his sharp grin, his nose nudging yours. His lips are almost on yours, the heat of them against your mouth making you dizzy and the heavy weight of his body against yours making your thoughts sticky. 

“Gonna suck something else, huh?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Wanna do it right here in the elevator?” 

“Huh?” 

He bursts into laughter at your wide gaze, tapping the underside of your chin with his knuckle in jest. “I’m kidding. Unless…”

You shove him away and he starts laughing again, bending over with the force of it. You can’t be annoyed by his teasing, loving the way his eyes crease at the corner and how he laughs with the full force of his body. 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“You should have seen your face, though.” 

“I mean I’ll do it right now, if you want.”

His smile drops and he opens his mouth a little, shocked. “Wait, really?”

“No, but you should have seen your face.”

The elevator arriving at the appropriate floor saves him from answering. He scowls at you and you giggle, grabbing him and pushing him into the hall and toward your room. He turns on his heel, falling into step with you and fishing the room key out of his pocket. 

It’s cold in the room when you enter. Seungcheol had booked a one bedroom suite with a small living room and kitchenette. It was more than what you needed for the night, but it feels nice, like your own private getaway. 

Taking you by the hand, he walks backward toward the bedroom, pulling you along. His smile is beautiful and you wear a matching one. A thrill shoots through you when you realize that Seungcheol is yours. Really yours. 

Sitting on the bed, he pulls you into his lap. Your knees sink in the mattress on either side of his hips, ass resting on his thighs. Leaning over him, you link your hands behind the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the silky hair there. 

Seungcheol tilts his face up toward you, eyes fluttering as you play with his hair. His arms loop around your waist, squeezing you. 

“Hi,” he breathes. 

“Hi.”

Leaning down, you slot your mouth against his. He tastes like champagne, mouth warm. Kissing him takes your breath away, thoughts guttering out as he licks into your mouth hungrily. You lose yourself in the feeling of him, feeling like you’re on fire. 

Seungcheol falls backward on the bed. His lips are swollen and pink, eyes heavy-lidded as he stares up at you. He reaches for you but you give him a coy smile and slip from his lap, crouching to the floor and running your hands along his thighs, feeling them flex beneath your touch. 

You love Seungcheol’s thighs. Your nails drag across the fabric and he lets out a breathy sound. His muscles twitch as you reach to brush your fingers over his zipper, making sure to press into his cock. His hips jerk upward at the barest hint of stimulation and you grin.

“It’s no elevator,” you tease. “But will this do?” 

“Fucking anywhere will do.” 

Seungcheol has always been sensitive. He’s easy to rile, cock already firm by the time you’re undoing his belt and he’s helping you pull his dress pants down his thighs. You eye the dark patch in his briefs, proud that with just a little bit of kissing and some light touching he’s already leaking at the tip.

Sitting high on your knees, you lean forward, tongue pressing wetly to the tip of his cock through the fabric. A hand shoots to the back of your head, his fingers gripping you firmly as you laugh, tongue still pressed to him and soaking through his briefs.

“Don’t you dare tease me tonight,” he warns, voice shaky. “That is not wifey behavior.” 

You remove your tongue, pouting and moving to press a kiss to his thigh. “You never let me tease you.” 

“I’m not patient.” Your teeth scrape the softness of his flesh and his legs twitch, knees knocking your shoulder. “Baby, I am so serious.”

Biting your bottom lip to hide a smile, you give in. You know with certainty he’d let you drag this out if you really wanted to. Seungcheol is impatient and greedy and demanding, but he also lets you do what you want when it comes down to it. 

Instead of testing his grace, you peel his briefs down, freeing his cock. Your mouth waters at his thick length, your hand automatically reaching up to grab him. You swipe your thumb through the precum gathered, using it to slide down the full length of his shaft.

Seungcheol’s hips buck. You grip him properly, working him slowly as you shuffle closer on your knees. They already hurt, hotel carpet digging into them but you ignore it in favor of watching the way his fingers slowly undo the button of his shirt, needing to shuck the fabric off. 

“You’re pretty,” you note absently. His stomach flexes when he sits up to slide his shirt off of his shoulders. He looks down at you, pupils dilated. “Very, very pretty.” 

“You’re a work of art yourself.”

Instead of laying back down flat, he leans back on his palms, letting his head fall back. Seungcheol shuts his eyes, face tilted up at the ceiling as though in prayer. “Feels good.”

Humming happily, you lean forward and slowly run the flat of your tongue up the base of his shaft. That draws a low moan out of him, his chest rising and falling as he pants. You’re fascinated by his reactions, watching his face and body language carefully as you swirl your tongue around the crown of his cock.

He’s responsive, fingers digging into the sheets in an effort not to grab your head and take control. He’s testing his patience, letting you bring him into the wet heat of your mouth at your pace, sucking lazily. 

“Fuck,” he groans. You hum around him and he shakes his head, shivering. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Good you think, setting a proper place as you swallow him down, letting your spit pool to help make the glide easier. It’s messy and wet, just the way Seungcheol likes it, his moans backtracking the slick sounds coming from your mouth.

What you can’t fit in your mouth properly, you cover with your hand, squeezing periodically as you stroke upward, meeting your stretched lips. 

“God,” Seungcheol whispers. “You know how to suck cock.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you grin, feeling the sting in your mouth from the stretch. Your lips are cum and spit-slicked, sticky as you continue to stroke him. 

“Thanks,” you laugh. “I heard I’m wifey material.”

“Fucking, shit, yeah a little bit. Fuckkkk, mouth please.” 

You comply, sucking him back into your mouth. He’s putty underneath you, hips twitching off the bed a little as soft sounds drip from his mouth. You watch, totally hypnotized by the way he moved, the way his hairline gets a little sweaty as he nods, encouraging you. 

Biting his lip, he lifts a hand from the bed to grab at you, pulling you off of him. “Come here,” he growls, opening his. 

Seungcheol pulls you to him, not caring that your mouth is a mess. His tongue delves in, exploring the mixed taste of champagne and precum, hands pulling at your dress to peel it off of you. 

“Let me sit against the headboard,” he pants, breaking the kiss to scoot backward. You peel your underwear off and toss them, following him across the mattress as he settles. He pats his lap and reaches for you. “Come here, baby.” 

You settle into his lap again, mouth melding to his. His hands explore you, gripping your ass, squeezing your waist, running up your front to pinch at your nipples. You moan into his mouth, carding your fingers in his hair and pulling at the stimulation, your head tilting back a little.

He takes the opportunity to attach his lips to your throat, biting sharply and soothing the sting with his tongue. Sinking a little lower, you feel your pussy brush against his cock and you sigh, gently rolling your hips to slide your sticky folds up his shaft. 

Seungcheol groans against you, mouth feverish against your skin. He maps your throat, kissing and biting his way to your chest, where he steals a pert nipple into his mouth to give a harsh suck. You squeal and he grins, plucking at your sensitive bud with his teeth. 

Holding onto him, you let him lavish attention to your tits the way he wants, hands squeezing, tongue flicking. It feels good. Aflame, you continue to roll your hips shallowly in his waist, just giving the barest of stimulation to you both.

A hand slides between your legs, his fingers finding your swelling clit, pressing against it. You whine loudly, fighting off a violent shiver. He grins where he has your breast in his mouth, sucking generously as he lazily circles your clit with his fingers. 

“Cheol,” you whisper-whine. “You said no teasing.”

“I said no teasing me.” His fingers slide backward and dip into your entrance teasingly. You clench around nothing, aching for him to do something. “Flustered, huh?” 

“Please give me something.”

He presses his lips against the side of your jaw, grinning. “Fine.” He sinks a single finger into you and you sigh in immediate relief. It isn’t enough but it’s something, your hips rocking to take him in deeper. “Better?”

“I can take more.” 

“Of course you can.” He pushes in another finger, the stretch so good. “You’re my girl. You can take what I give you.”

Dropping your head to his shoulder, you nod. You hide your face in his flushed skin, riding his fingers as he slowly slides them home, working you gently. They press against your sensitive spot and you curse, gripping him a little tighter. 

Impatient and needing more, you grind yourself forward, fucking his hand properly. He laughs, letting you take what you need, cupping you fully so the heel of his palm grinds into your clit. Your movements are frenzied, driven by the desire for him, the feeling curling inside you. 

“Just like that,” he encourages. “Fuck yourself on my fingers just like that.” 

You do, thighs aching and body shaking. The sheets stick to your legs as you work yourself up, sweaty palms sliding against Seungcheol’s shoulders. He whispers in your ear, voice low and scratchy, adding to the building mania inside of you. 

“Shit,” you hiss, feeling the tightness in your stomach start to boil over. 

“Come on, come around my fingers. You got it.” 

His gentle voice pushes you over all the way and you clench around his fingers, coming undone. Your hips stop moving and your legs squeeze around his as you seize up. Seungcheol is having none of it, taking the lead to drive his fingers up into you as you flutter around him.

“Oh,” you gasp as he finer fucks you through the rest of your orgasm, sucking at a tender spot on your neck until you’re trembling and a mess. “Okay, okay, okay.” 

Seungcheol takes it easy on you, pulling his fingers from between your legs with a slick noise. You heave against him, catching your breath while he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks obnoxiously. 

“Mmm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” He smacks your ass and you squeak. “Ride my cock like that?” 

Huffing, you extend to your full height on your knees. He grabs the base of his shaft, eyes fixed on the mess between your legs as you sink down slowly. His tip breaches you, both of you letting out a sound as you keep going, holding your breath as he stretches you open.

Seungcheol taps your waist. “Breathe.” 

You do, inhaling a breath as you nestle in his lap, seated fully, clenching around him. “Thanks.”

“Mhmm.” 

Seungcheol’s hands move up your sides, his eyes drinking in every inch of you. This time, you know the look in his eye is real. His gaze is covetous, looking at you like you’re his because you are. 

You catch his hands with yours, linking your finger and squeezing. He smiles, looking up at you with dark locks of hair in his face. You smile back, starting to roll your hips, using his hands to steady yourself.

Everything feels like an exposed nerve. The cool air of the hotel room brushes across your back, making you shiver. The mattress dips under your movement, your thighs flexing to keep your balance steady, Seungcheol’s grip on you helping. 

“You’re so perfect,” Seungcheol mutters, using your linked hands to pull you toward him. Your hands slip from him, going to the headboard to help lift you instead. His grip finds your waist, aiding in your movement while his mouth finds your breasts. “God these tits.” 

An ache settles in your thighs but you ignore it, chasing an orgasm. You tremble in his hold, breath punching out of you as he mumbles your name, watching you with fucked out eyes and lips parted, like you’re giving him everything he ever wanted.

You kind of feel that way. The way he looks at you isn’t that different from before, but now you’re confident in it, realizing that everything with Seungcheol felt too intimate because it was. Casual was never the right name for it, neither of you having any idea how to really be no strings attached. 

“My fucking legs hurt,” you admit, panting. “Can you take over?” 

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol surges forward, knocking you backward onto the bed. You laugh, bouncing a little as he pulls out and helps maneuver you. “Turn around for me.” 

With shaking arms, you follow his instruction. The sheets cling to you as you roll, making you huff and swat at them. He chuckles, peeling them away from your sweaty skin while you settle on your stomach, arching your ass a little. 

He palms your left cheek, groaning and dragging his blunt nails down the curve to your hip where he grabs you. “Unreal,” he whispers, to either you or himself. 

You gasp when he thrusts pack in, punching the air from your lungs as he sets a sharp pace. You jostle on the bed, grabbing the sheets and knotting your hands in them to keep you in place, a stream of whimpers leaving you. 

A hand slips up your spine, pressing flat between your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the bed. You gasp and nod, Seungcheol taking it as a sign to put more weight into it, angling his hips so he’s fucking down into you. 

It’s hard to breathe, the dizziness taking over as your skin starts to turn to static, orgasm so close that you can feel the buzz between your legs. He keeps going like that, pinning you hard to the bed as his hips crash into yours. 

His name leaves your mouth in a cry as you squeeze around him, letting loose. He curses, picking up his pace, ignoring the wet squelch as he does, palm pressing you harder into the bed as you come. 

You think you might disintegrate, unable to do anything but make broken sounds as he chases his orgasm. Just when you think you might not get another breath, he comes, the pressure on your back lifting a little. You gasp for air, feeling the room tilt as his thrusts slow, becoming gentle. 

Seungcheol’s hands are soothing on your back, fingers dancing up and down your spine, delicate. He’s muttering something to you but you can’t hear him, the pounding of your heart far too loud, pulse rattling in your ears. 

When his hips are still, his hands keep moving. He leans over you, careful not to put his weight on you, mouth kissing across your shoulders. Your cheek is pressed flat against the sheet as you pant, coming down from a fever pitch. 

“You okay if I get up and get you water?” the question is whispered across your cheek, where Seungcheol presses a tender kiss. You nod and he kisses you again before peeling away from you. 

Laying in the bed, you drift, listening to him shuffle around to the kitchen. You’re sleepy but more aware now. When the bed dips again, you crack your eye open, watching as he navigates carefully on his knees, two glasses of water in hand. 

“Can you sit up or do you need help?” You shake your head and muster the strength you have left to sit up. Your muscles spasm as you do, a groan leaving your mouth as the room spins from the change in perspective. “You okay?”

“Thirsty,” you rasp, reaching for the glass he offers. Gulping down the cool water, you’re aware of his eyes on you, watching you drain the glass as he sips his. “Thank you.”

He takes the empty glass and kisses your lips. “Mhmm. Need more?”

“No, I’m good. I just need to sleep for five hundred years, no big deal.” 

“Damn, five hundred goes crazy. Do you think we’ll have flying cars by then?” 

Seungcheol puts both glasses on the nightstand and peels back the covers of the bed. He slips under them, patting the spot next to him. You crawl over, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. He laughs at you and you scowl, but manage to clamber in next to him, warm beneath the blankets and tucked into his chest.

“Yes, definitely. And like giant sexy holograms advertising porn, probably.”

“That’s the first thing you think of in the future? Porn?”

“Listen,” you huff, laying your head against his chest and closing your eyes. “I’m still a little champagne buzzed and you just fucked me until I couldn’t breathe for a while. Cut me slack.” 

“Sure thing, wifey.” 

“Ugh. Is that our thing now?” 

“Mhmm. Everything pre-relationship has henceforth been replaced with the relationship-only era. Pretend you have amnesia.” 

A huff of laughter leaves you. “Sure thing.” 

“I mean I feel like I have amnesia.” You give him a questioning look. He’s contemplative, staring with unseeing eyes as he plays with your fingers. “I had an entire life and habits before you, and I swear it’s like sometimes my memory actually starts with that first night at the bar.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re just around a lot and I like to think it’s always been that way. And I’m kind of sorry for taking so long to admit nothing about this was casual for me.” 

You smile. “Wasn’t for me either.” 

“Good.” He snuggles into you, settling in silence for a few moments. “Thanks for letting me win pool that first night.” 

“I did not let you win that game, oh my god.” 

“Just admit it! You wanted to taste my goodies and you let me win.” 

“I’m gonna give you some damn amnesia,” you mutter, but grin as he hugs you tight.

“Sure thing, wifey. Sure thing.” 

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[jhyoos]

Of Roses And Steel

chapter three : stay in your place

knight sevika x princess reader

mentions : royalty au, medieval au, romance, vi was mentioned for a reason, jealous sevika, annoying mel, light smut, silco being a ally, drama filled, vi being the 3 fs: flirty, funny and fuckable, another long chapter

notes: wrote this right after chapter two 🤭

↲ previous chapter

You woke up to the soft, warm sensation of your cub’s tongue gently licking your face. Groaning slightly, you opened your eyes to find his fluffy form hovering over you, his bright eyes watching you expectantly. “Good morning,” you murmured, reaching up to scratch his head. “I really need to name you,” you added with a small laugh. He leaned into your touch before curling up against your chest, a soft purr rumbling from him as his warmth enveloped you.

Last night lingered in your mind like a fever dream—vivid and inescapable. You replayed every moment over and over, wondering what might have happened if things had escalated further, or if Sevika had uttered those three words you so desperately longed to hear: I love you. Closing your eyes again, you tried to let sleep claim you once more, but your thoughts betrayed you, pulling you deeper into the haze of unanswered questions.

Your moment of reprieve was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by a voice announcing the arrival of your maids, perfectly punctual as always. With a tired sigh, you sat up in bed and called out, “Come in…”

The door opened, and a flurry of activity followed as your maids bustled in. “Can we bring my pet his breakfast?” you asked, gesturing toward the cub, who now sprawled lazily on the bed. “Just bring a few cuts of raw meat—any kind will do.” One maid nodded and quickly exited the room, while the others began attending to your morning routine.

As you stood, the maids gently guided you toward the vanity. They worked quickly, their hands deftly brushing through your unraveled hair and preparing you for the day ahead. One of them hesitated, her gaze catching on the faint bite mark adorning your neck. “Are you all right, my lady?” she asked carefully, her tone laced with genuine concern.

You touched the spot instinctively, your cheeks warming as you hastily replied, “Oh, yes, I’m fine. He likes to bite a lot,” referring to the cub as you fabricated the excuse. The maid raised an eyebrow ever so slightly but said nothing, though you could sense her curiosity lingering.

Finally, the maids brought out the gown for the day—a breathtaking creation that sparkled like the morning dew. The dress was a masterpiece of intricate detail, its halter neckline plunging gracefully to highlight the delicate curves of your frame. The bodice was adorned with elaborate silver filigree, curling like vines in an enchanted forest, with an ornate key-like centerpiece resting elegantly between your collarbones.

The skirt of the gown cascaded like a shimmering waterfall, its sheer fabric embroidered with glistening beads and sequins that caught the light with every movement. Tiny floral appliqués adorned the train, adding a touch of whimsy to the regal elegance of the design. As the maids secured the gown in place, its ethereal beauty made you feel like you had stepped out of a dream.

Standing before the mirror, you couldn’t help but admire the way the dress hugged your figure, the light playing off its embellishments and giving you an otherworldly glow. The maids adjusted the final details, their hands brushing against the delicate fabric as they ensured every part of the ensemble was perfect.

As you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, a look of confusion crossed your face. This wasn’t the kind of gown you usually wore—ornate and dazzling, designed to captivate. You turned toward your maids, your brows furrowed. “What’s the occasion?” you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

One of the maids stepped forward with a gentle smile. “The kingdom of Piltover is coming, my lady. The king wanted you to shine,” she explained, her tone full of reverence.

You blinked, taking in her words and glancing back at your reflection. The gown’s intricate silver detailing and sparkling embellishments made you look radiant, almost celestial. It was a deliberate choice, meant to make an impression.

Satisfied with their work, the maids gathered their things and began to file out of the room, their movements quiet and efficient. One, however, returned shortly after, carrying a small bowl filled with cuts of raw meat. She placed it carefully in front of your cub, who immediately perked up at the sight of his breakfast.

“Thank you,” you said softly, offering her a kind smile. The maid bowed low before retreating, leaving you alone with your cub, who was now happily devouring his meal.

You watched him for a moment, his small frame hunched over the bowl, his soft fur glowing faintly in the morning light. As you observed him, a thought struck you—a name, simple yet fitting.

“Eros,” you said aloud, your lips curving into a smile. The cub paused briefly, his ears twitching at the sound of your voice, before returning to his meal. “That will be your name,” you decided, feeling a sense of satisfaction at finally giving him an identity.

The name lingered in the air as you watched him eat, your mind momentarily at ease despite the day’s looming responsibilities.

A sharp knock echoed through your chambers, drawing your attention to the door. You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “Come in,” you called out, your tone neutral. The door creaked open, and standing there was Mel.

You let out a quiet sigh, rolling your eyes at the sight of her. Whatever she wanted, it couldn’t possibly improve your mood.

“I apologize for last night,” she said, her tone soft but hesitant. Her eyes roamed over your gown before she added, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“I always do,” you replied coolly, adjusting the fabric of your gown. Your words were sharp and dismissive, but there was a faint air of satisfaction at her acknowledgment. “And I forgive you—only for Sevika’s sake. And so I don’t have to go through explaining to my father why I would have to send you back to Noxus.”

Mel’s lips pressed into a thin line before she dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Follow me out of my chambers, please,” you instructed, turning toward the door without another glance at her. “We have to meet the King of Piltover.”

Mel nodded, silently falling into step behind you as you strode toward the door. The two guards stationed there straightened at your approach, their armor gleaming in the light. They fell into formation as you exited, shadowing your every step.

Pausing briefly in the hallway, you glanced at one of the servants waiting nearby. “Please have someone check on my cub every hour and ensure he’s all right,” you instructed.

“Yes, ma’am,” the servant said with a respectful bow before hurrying off.

With that, you straightened your posture, your chin lifted with regal grace. The day was far from over, and there was much to do—but as always, you intended to handle it with the poise expected of you. With Mel trailing behind and your guards flanking you, you made your way toward the grand hall where the King of Piltover awaited.

The grand doors to the throne room creaked open, revealing a scene of splendor and familiarity. King Vander sat on a gilded chair at the head of the room, his presence commanding yet warm. Around him were his sons and daughters, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of you. These were friends you’d grown up with, companions from childhood whose bonds you still cherished despite the years apart.

Your eyes swept across the room, noting that your father was not yet present. Instead, Sevika’s unmistakable figure caught your attention. She was lounging in a chair near the corner, her legs man-spread with that air of casual dominance she always exuded. Her relaxed posture made her look untouchable, her sharp gaze scanning the room before briefly landing on you.

You didn’t linger on her for long, but it seemed Mel had. Before you could speak, Mel veered off toward Sevika, her footsteps quick and purposeful. You noticed the way her lips curled into a smile as she approached, but you chose not to acknowledge them. Instead, you continued further into the room, your attention shifting when a hand gently rested on your arm.

You turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Vi. Her short pink hair was tousled as always, and her confident smile brought an instant wave of nostalgia.

“Good morning,” you said, offering her a warm nod. “I didn’t see you at the tournament.”

Vi grinned, a little sheepishly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I was out taking care of some things,” she replied before her expression softened. “Gosh, you look even more beautiful than you did all those years ago.”

Her words made your lips curl into a soft smile. “I would say the same about you,” you said, meeting her gaze. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other—since we were children.”

Vi chuckled softly, her hand on your arm lingering before she moved it to your cheek. Her touch was light, almost hesitant, and her thumb brushed against your skin gently. “I’m glad to see you again,” she said, her voice lower now, more intimate.

Her closeness and sincerity brought a flutter of warmth to your chest, but before you could respond, the sound of a loud laugh from one of Vander’s sons broke the moment, drawing both your attentions back to the room. You smiled, grateful for the distraction as you slipped away from Vi’s touch, though her presence remained close, a reminder of the bonds that never truly faded with time.

Your father entered the room with a warm smile, his face lighting up as he spotted Vander. The two men shared a hearty laugh before pulling each other into a bear hug, the kind that only old friends exchanged.

"My brother," Silco greeted, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

“It’s been far too long,” Vander replied, his tone just as affectionate.

“I’ve arranged an outdoor gathering in the garden,” Silco said, gesturing toward the sprawling grounds outside. “You’ll have to see it—it’s stunning this time of year. And, well, I thought it might spare you all from the misery of the cold you have back in Piltover.”

“Sounds perfect,” Vander agreed with a grin.

The garden was breathtaking, illuminated by soft golden string lights that cast a warm glow against the night sky. Tables adorned with delicate floral arrangements and elegant snacks were set up, inviting guests to indulge. The scent of fresh blossoms mingled with the crisp evening air, creating a serene yet lively atmosphere.

You wandered through the garden, a drink in your hand, observing the festivities around you. Laughter and chatter filled the air as nobles and their families mingled, their faces alight with joy. Even Mel and Sevika, who were deep in conversation by the fountain, seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Deciding to keep your distance from your ladies-in-waiting, you gravitated toward quieter corners of the party. Noblewomen and gentlemen approached you now and then, offering compliments and pleasantries that you returned with practiced politeness. But as the evening wore on, the constant interactions began to drain you.

Eventually, you slipped away, finding solace in the hallway just outside the garden. The dim lighting and gentle hum of the distant festivities provided a peaceful reprieve. You leaned against the flower-covered wall, letting out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes.

Your moment of solitude was interrupted by the familiar sound of boots on the stone path. Opening your eyes, you saw Vi approaching, a bottle of alcohol in hand. Her pink hair was slightly tousled, and her grin was as mischievous as ever.

“What’s this for?” you asked, eyeing the bottle she held out to you.

“To drink, beautiful,” Vi replied with a playful smirk, popping the bottle open. She poured a generous amount into your glass before taking a swig straight from the bottle herself.

You raised the glass to your lips, taking a cautious sip. The sharp taste made your face scrunch in displeasure, earning a hearty laugh from Vi. She was clearly used to drinking—her lack of reaction to the alcohol proved it.

“You’re not funny,” you said, though a small smile tugged at your lips as her laughter continued.

An hour later, the bottle was empty, and the two of you were sitting by the lake, far from the noise of the party. The gentle lapping of water against the shore served as the perfect backdrop for your conversation. You both laughed as you reminisced about childhood memories, the weight of adulthood momentarily lifted.

“I still remember the time we kissed,” Vi said suddenly, her tone softer now.

You smiled at the memory, the warmth of it spreading through you. “I remember it too. You were my first kiss…and my first girl kiss,” you admitted with a shy laugh.

Vi leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d love to kiss you again.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, but you smiled, meeting her gaze. “I’d love to kiss you too.”

She cupped your cheek gently, her touch warm and steady as she leaned in. Her lips met yours in a passionate kiss that sent a thrill through you. You responded in kind, placing a hand on her shoulder as the kiss deepened.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but smiles lingered on your faces. “Gods, how I’ve missed you,” Vi murmured, her voice full of emotion.

Before you could respond, she leaned in again, this time pushing you gently onto the grass. Her kisses grew more fervent, and you found yourself lost in the moment, your hands tangling in her hair.

The moment shattered as the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the air. You and Vi pulled away from each other quickly, your heart sinking as you looked up to see Sevika standing there. Her expression was unreadable, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Vi before she finally spoke.

“Your father is asking for you,” she said, her voice calm but firm as her gaze settled on you.

“Right…” you mumbled, quickly standing and brushing off your dress to compose yourself. “I’ll see you later, Vi.”

Vi nodded, her mischievous grin softening as she looked up at you. “Later, beautiful,” she said, her voice low and playful.

As you walked away, Sevika fell into step behind you. The tension between you was palpable, and it didn’t take long before Sevika’s voice broke the silence.

“Is this your way of moving on? Kissing some random girl?” she said, her tone laced with irritation.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face her with a glare. “Vi isn’t just some random girl. She was my first kiss, and she’s a princess. If I wanted to, I could marry her,” you said firmly. “And what business is it of yours? You seemed perfectly content with Mel today.”

Sevika scoffed, crossing her arms. “Mel and I were just talking. Don’t turn this on me.”

Your jaw tightened, but you said nothing more. The weight of her words hung heavily between you as the two of you reached the garden party.

Silco spotted you almost immediately, his piercing gaze softening as he extended a hand to you. You stepped forward, taking it with a small smile. “What’s wrong, Father?” you asked.

“Nothing, my dear,” he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. “I just wanted to see you. How are you enjoying the party? Have you had a chance to speak with Vi and Powder yet?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, keeping your voice measured.

Silco studied you for a moment before asking, “And what do you think of Vi? Would she make a good suitor for you?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his question, though you tried to keep your expression neutral. “Oh… so that’s what this is about,” you said softly, glancing away. “I don’t know, Father. I’ve talked to her, but I haven’t seen her in years. I’d need time to get to know her again.”

Silco nodded thoughtfully, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Of course, that’s only fair. But you have all night to spend with her before she has to leave.”

“That’s not enough time,” you said honestly. “But… I could write to her after, if that would make you happy.”

Silco’s lips curled into a faint smile. “Of course, my child. That would be a fine start.”

You nodded, your mind still swirling with thoughts of Vi, Sevika, and the complex feelings tangled up between them. The night was far from over, but you could already feel its weight pressing on you.

The pounding in your head and the haze of alcohol clouding your thoughts made the decision impossible to face right now. You needed to return to your chambers and clear your mind. Without the usual accompaniment of guards, you made your way back alone, your steps unsteady but purposeful.

When you entered your room, the soft glow of candlelight illuminated a maid tending to Eros, who lay fast asleep in his bed. The cub was on his back, paws in the air, his round belly exposed—a clear sign he’d been well-fed and was completely content. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Thank you,” you murmured to the maid. She nodded, gathered her things, and left quietly, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the rhythmic sound of Eros’s gentle breathing.

You sat down at your vanity, resting your head in your hands as you tried to sober up, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. The quiet didn’t last long, though, as your door suddenly creaked open.

“Gods, what’s with people barging into my r—” you began, lifting your head, but your words caught in your throat when you saw Sevika standing in the doorway.

Her gaze was intense, her shoulders squared as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Did you do that on purpose? Trying to make me jealous?” she asked, her voice low and cutting straight to the point.

You stood up, gripping the back of your chair as you stared at her in frustration and confusion. “What?” you asked, your tone sharp.

But before you could say more, Sevika crossed the space between you in a heartbeat, her hand sliding to the back of your neck as she pulled you into a fierce, passionate kiss. Her lips were commanding, her touch electric, and you couldn’t help but melt into the moment. Your hands instinctively pressed against her chest as you kissed her back, your body responding to her closeness.

Sevika’s grip on you didn’t waver as she lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of your vanity. Her hands moved to your dress, lifting it slightly, but before things could go any further, you reached out and stopped her.

“Sevika…you’re confusing me,” you said, breathless, your hands trembling slightly as you met her gaze.

She let out a deep sigh, pulling back and settling into the chair in front of you. She leaned back, her legs spread wide, her elbows resting on her knees. Her usual confidence seemed to falter as she looked up at you. “I know…I’m confused myself,” she admitted, her voice quieter now.

You swallowed hard, trying to gather your thoughts. “My father asked me to consider marrying Vi,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know what to do. I can’t marry someone I don’t know if I love yet…but I know I love you, Sevika.”

Her jaw tightened at your words, her brows furrowing as she leaned forward slightly. “Then why were you kissing Vi if you love me?” she asked, her tone edged with hurt.

Your chest tightened at the question, guilt flashing across your face. “You were with Mel,” you replied defensively. “You still are. She asked, and I accepted it. What was I supposed to do?”

Sevika sighed, leaning back and placing a hand on your thigh. Her touch was warm, grounding, but her words cut deep. “You know me and you can’t get married,” she said, her tone steady but filled with a painful truth. “I belong to you, to your father, to this kingdom. I can’t promise I’ll always be here. What happens when I leave for good? What happens when I don’t come back? You’re too fragile…too weak to handle that.”

Her words struck you like a blow, but you said nothing, knowing deep down she was right. The thought of her leaving—of never returning—was unbearable.

“So,” she continued, her voice softening just slightly, “you should marry Vi. She seems to like you, even if she is…a drunk.”

“She’s not a drunk,” you said quickly, frowning. “She’s just…way too carefree.”

“Right…” Sevika muttered, pushing herself to her feet. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, her expression unreadable. “From now on, I won’t bother you. I apologize for barging in and kissing you like that.”

Before you could say anything, before you could process her words, Sevika turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind her. The room felt emptier without her, the silence heavy as you sat there, torn between the choices laid before you and the ache in your chest Sevika’s absence left behind.

The next morning began like any other. The maids were already bustling around your chambers, preparing your dress and accessories as you sat quietly, letting them do their work. Eros, your beloved cub, had his breakfast first as always, his tiny paws clutching his food with delight. You smiled softly at the sight, though it didn’t fully reach your eyes. Once he was done, you picked him up in your arms. His soft fur and warm presence were a small comfort as you made your way to the throne room.

You were informed earlier that Vander and his children had departed at dawn to begin their long journey back. You were a little sad about Vi going so early. Not getting to say goodbye. The memories of last night were still raw, and it was something you couldn’t get out of your head.

The guards opened the doors to the throne room, revealing its usual lively atmosphere. Voices carried across the grand hall as nobles and servants alike mingled, sharing news and gossip. You walked with poise, nodding politely at those who greeted you, until you reached your ladies-in-waiting.

“Good morning,” you said to them, settling into your lounge chair with Eros nestled comfortably on your lap. His soft purring helped ease the tension in your chest as you listened to the chatter around you.

The gossip was lively today, full of intrigue and speculation about recent guests and political alliances. You smiled faintly, losing yourself in the distraction until something—or other someone—caught your attention.

Mel.

She strode into the room with a radiant smile, her golden complexion glowing as she approached your group. You stiffened, your grip tightening slightly on Eros as her eyes met yours briefly before turning to the others.

“Good morning, ladies,” Mel said cheerfully. Then, without hesitation, she dropped the bombshell. “Unfortunately, I am no longer a lady-in-waiting.”

There was a collective gasp, followed by murmurs of curiosity and confusion.

“Why?” one of the ladies asked, her voice laced with intrigue.

Mel’s smile widened as she held up her hand, revealing a sparkling ring. “Because I am now engaged to my beloved Sevika!”

The room erupted into cheers and congratulations, the ladies fawning over her and admiring the ring. Mel basked in their attention, her joy radiating in every gesture and word. But all you could do was sit there, frozen.

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach as her words echoed in your mind. Engaged to Sevika. The air felt heavy, and the edges of your vision blurred as the pain settled in your chest.

Mel’s happiness was unbearable to witness, her grin brighter than the sun as she recounted the details of Sevika’s proposal. It was too much. Your legs moved on their own as you stood abruptly, Eros startled by the sudden motion.

“Excuse me,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the commotion. You didn’t wait for a response. You turned on your heel and left the throne room as quickly as you could, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

She had Sevika.

Your feet carried you to the nearest empty room, and once inside, you slammed the door shut and leaned against it, sliding down until you sat on the cold floor. The tears came fast, streaming down your cheeks as sobs wracked your body.

It felt as though your heart had been ripped out and torn apart piece by piece. The weight of it all crushed you—Sevika’s rejection and now Mel’s victory. You buried your face in your hands, the pain too much to bear.

When you finally mustered the strength to leave the room, the sight before you stopped you in your tracks. Standing in the hallway was your father, flanked by two guards. His sharp, observant eyes softened immediately when he saw the tears streaking your face.

“Angel,” he said gently, his voice filled with concern as he stepped closer. He reached out and used his thumb to wipe the tears still falling down your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart aching from all the emotions you were trying to suppress. “I’m just… stressed,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though it cracked slightly. “Everything that’s happened this past week… I just had to let it out.” It was only a half-truth, but it was all you could manage.

Silco’s expression remained tender as he opened his arms. “Come here,” he murmured.

You didn’t hesitate, stepping into his embrace. The moment his arms wrapped around you, his hand cradling the back of your head, the dam broke again. You sobbed against his chest, your shoulders shaking as the week’s events overwhelmed you all over again.

“We’ll find who put that bear head in your room,” he said softly, his voice low and comforting as his hand stroked your hair. “I promise you, Angel. They’ll pay for it.”

His words, though meant to reassure you, only made you cry harder. The mention of the bear head—the harrowing reminder of the fear and violation you had felt—added another layer to your emotional turmoil.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out between sobs, clutching the fabric of his coat as if it were the only thing grounding you.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said, his voice unwavering as he held you tighter. “You don’t have to apologize.”

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace soothed you, though the tears didn’t stop. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his strength, feeling like a child again in the protective arms of your father.

You pulled away from your father’s embrace, sniffling softly as you tried to compose yourself. “I’m okay now,” you said, offering him a small, forced smile.

Silco cupped your face with both hands, his sharp gaze meeting yours with an intensity that made you feel both safe and vulnerable. “Emotions are normal, Angel. Tears are meant to be shed,” he said firmly, his voice low but steady. “You’ll be a strong Queen. I taught you well.”

His words, laced with pride, soothed you. He let go of your face and adjusted his coat before turning on his heel, walking down the hall with his usual commanding presence. You stood there for a moment, watching him disappear, letting his words settle in your chest before taking a deep breath.

Turning back toward the throne room, you braced yourself and pushed open the doors. The lively buzz of conversation filled the air again, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of Mel’s voice as she intercepted you, her lips pulled into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I hope you’ll be happy for us, your highness,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you not allowing it.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly at her emphasis on the word "bear," and your stomach twisted. “You put the bear head in my room?” you asked sharply, keeping your voice low but laced with venom.

Mel tilted her head, her expression smug. “Took you long enough to notice,” she replied, feigning innocence while the mocking tone in her voice was undeniable.

You glared at her, letting your gaze sweep her up and down with barely veiled contempt. “I find it amusing,” you started, your tone calm but cutting, “that you’re trying to use Sevika against me. Especially since we’ve already had a very fun night together just a night ago.”

Mel’s smile faltered for a split second, her confidence momentarily shaken.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice but letting every word drip with malice. “Enjoy your little broken marriage while it lasts. Because soon enough, you’ll be back in Noxus with your mother, who’ll no doubt be disappointed in your whorish ways. And as for Sevika?” You smiled, leaning in slightly. “She’ll stay here. Because Sevika puts Zaun, and this kingdom, before someone like you. Take that to heart before you go flashing that ring around like it means something.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, you brushed past her, your head held high as you returned to your ladies. They quickly quieted as you approached, sensing the tension radiating off you.

“From now on,” you said firmly, turning to face them, “do not speak to Mel. She’s not one of us anymore.”

They nodded in unison, not daring to question you. You settled back into your seat with Eros on your lap, focusing on the gossip of your ladies once again, doing your best to ignore the knot of satisfaction and lingering anger that twisted in your chest.

Sevika soon entered the throne room, her tall figure commanding attention even in the lively atmosphere. Her sharp eyes immediately found Mel sitting alone in a corner, away from the ladies, who were now avoiding her. Sevika’s gaze shifted, landing on you. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, and you felt your stomach churn at the intensity of her expression.

She approached you with measured steps, bowing slightly as she stopped before you. “May I speak to you, your highness?” she asked, her tone formal and respectful, mindful of the public setting.

You hesitated but rose from your chair, gently placing Eros back on the couch before nodding. “Very well,” you replied curtly, following her as she led you out of the throne room.

The heavy doors closed behind you, but Sevika didn’t stop there. Her hand lightly grasped your arm as she guided you down the hall and into the nearby garden. Once she was sure no one else was around, she finally turned to face you.

“You need to let me explain,” she said, her voice low and urgent.

You crossed your arms, keeping your expression neutral. “You marrying Mel is none of my business,” you replied, your tone cold.

Her jaw clenched, and she ran a hand through her short hair in frustration. “I don’t want to marry her,” she admitted, her voice laced with bitterness. “Look at me—I’m not the marriage type of woman.”

“Then why are you doing it?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

She sighed, her broad shoulders slumping slightly. “Because I was pushed into it,” she said. “Mel came up to your father in front of the court this morning. She asked for his blessing, and he granted it right there. I had no choice but to put a damn ring on her finger.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I could’ve told you myself that she’s crazy. She’s the one who hung that dead bear in my room,” you said, your voice rising slightly in frustration.

Sevika’s eyes widened slightly, the information clearly catching her off guard. “Mel did that?” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

“Yes,” you confirmed firmly. “You figure this out, Sevika. Her mother is an important ally, and if you mess this up, it won’t end well—for either of us,” you added, your tone softening slightly but still carrying a sharp edge.

Sevika bit her lip, her usual confidence visibly wavering as she stared at the ground. For the first time, you saw her look vulnerable, conflicted in a way that felt foreign for someone so composed.

After a long pause, she straightened her posture and gave a short, resigned nod. “Fine,” she said curtly before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you alone in the quiet garden.

You stood there, the weight of her vulnerability and the tension between you both lingering in the air. The garden felt colder without her presence, but you refused to let it show as you took a deep breath, straightened your dress, and prepared to return to the throne room.

taglist (my shaylas ♡): @tinycherry0 @thesecondhandwoman @abbysleftbicepp @artfairyyyyy @bunninel @furrytaesss @savedforlaterr @veladeangl @5t4r1i9ht @imheadintothemountains @adora-moonshine @sevikasrightboob @80saturn @littlerainsprite @runawaybaby3 @rhian88 @athena-winters13

[yrlocalwerewolf]

s1 ! vi x reader hcs ! ✩ (MEN DNI.)

this girl is MESSY. books, clothes, alcohol bottles everywhere.

she loves romantic gestures. if she sees anything that reminds her of you, she's getting it. flowers, records, even a rock that looked cool.

she never minds spending money on you, no matter how much you insist on her not doing that. she loves to spoil you.

vi loves date night with you. even though she never dresses up much, she still savours every moment with you.

picks you up all the time. oh you can't reach the top shelf? no problem. she also just feels like it sometimes.

sometimes she'll 'jokingly' ask to benchpress you. if you agree it'll give her a high for the rest of the day. if she can't benchpress you, then she can't. yet.

biggest fattest puppy eyes ever. if she doesn't get her way she uses them.

loves your hands. she loves running her thumb over your knuckles and kissing them, or tracing the lines on your palms.

if you beg her, she'll let you sit in her lap and do her makeup or her nails. does she understand why you like it so much? no, but because it's you she'll do it.

she gets into fights with you, but if you ignore her for more then ten minutes she'll beg for your attention and apologize your ear off. if you can manage to ignore her and her pathetic puppy eyes, that is.

always playing with your hair. she loves to put your face in her lap and running her hands through it.

she's teasing you all the time, no matter what. but if you tell her to stop, she'll listen and back off.

WORSHIPS your body. light kisses here and there, always touching you.

loves giving you hickeys. it's just the best thing ever for her.

she doesn't shower unless you agree with her. she's used to freezing cold water due to the lack of warm water (and water overall) in Zaun, but she slowly gets used to hot water for you.

gets drunk all the time. when she's drunk she's holding you and telling you how much she loves you and how you deserve someone better then her and is just. really emotional.

has tons of nicknames for you. calling you your name is a sin for her.

"hey, darling," "come 'ere, cupcake," "have i ever told you how much i love you, pretty girl?"

it was love at first sight for her <3

a / n : this one was fun to write !!! send requests for who yall want next :3

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

NOT YOUR BRO

drew starkey x fem!reader

SUMMARY: y/n decides to use some ‘unusual’ nicknames for her boyfriend, drew, except it drives him insane.

based on this ask !! you come up with the CUTEST requests @xoxosblogsblog so thank you for this :) i hope it’s what you wanted, i tried to make it more of a one-shot than a drabble so i hope it’s okay <3

WARNINGS: just some fluffy goodness, one f bomb, and i believe that’s it !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

THIRD PERSON +

The boutique smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, its soft jazz playlist creating a relaxed atmosphere as Y/N and the girls browsed racks of clothes. They had spent the morning shopping, arms now laden with glossy bags from Charleston's trendiest stores. Their conversation had drifted from outfit critiques to relationships as they admired a collection of flowy dresses near the dressing rooms.

"I don't know, it's just hard finding someone who actually gets me," Madelyn said with a shrug, running her fingers over the fabric. "You know, someone who doesn't freak out about my schedule."

"You'll find your person," Carlacia assured her. "Trust me, the right guy won't care how busy you are—he'll hype you up for it."

"True," Y/N chimed in. "Drew's my biggest cheerleader. Sometimes it's annoying how supportive he is."

The group laughed, and Madelyn smiled wistfully. "What do you even call Drew? Do you guys do the whole nickname thing?"

"Oh, for sure," Y/N replied, chuckling. "It's usually just 'babe,' but sometimes I call him 'Drewseph' when I'm feeling extra ridiculous."

"Drewseph?" Carlacia snorted, nearly doubling over. "That's incredible."

"I know, right?" Y/N grinned. "But seriously, I think he'd have a heart attack if I called him anything else. He's so used to those two."

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. "Like what? What would actually make him freak out?"

"I don't know..." Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Probably something like 'dude' or 'bro.' He'd be so confused."

"Oh my God, you have to try it!" Carlacia said, her eyes lighting up with mischief.

"What?" Y/N laughed, glancing between her friends.

"You should totally call him 'buddy,' 'pal,' or 'dude' tonight—just to see what he does," Carlacia suggested, practically bouncing on her heels.

"I don't know..." Y/N hesitated, though her grin betrayed her intrigue.

Madelyn joined in, nudging Y/N with her elbow. "Come on, it'd be hilarious. You know he'd lose his mind in the funniest way."

"I feel like he'd just be super offended," Y/N admitted, laughing.

"Exactly!" Carlacia said. "That's the point! He'll be all pouty and confused, and we'll all die laughing."

"Okay, but you guys better back me up if he gets mad," Y/N warned, smirking.

"Oh, we will," Madelyn promised, crossing her heart.

"Fine, I'll do it," Y/N said, shaking her head with a grin. "But you owe me if this backfires."

"Deal," Carlacia said, holding out her pinky for Y/N to shake.

As the group headed to the checkout counter, their laughter echoed through the boutique. Y/N could already picture Drew's reaction, and she had to admit—it was going to be fun.

—

The warm glow of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Drew and Y/N's spacious Charleston apartment. It was the perfect evening to host the Outer Banks cast for dinner and a game night.

The girls entered the apartment, greeted by the savory aroma of roasted chicken, mac and cheese, and freshly baked rolls. Drew met Y/N at the door, leaning down to kiss her. "How was your day, babe?" he asked, his voice soft and warm.

"Perfect," Y/N replied, grinning. "How about you? Are you a certified chef now?"

"Close," he teased, sliding an arm around her waist. "Go wash up; dinner's almost ready."

The girls exchanged knowing glances behind Drew's back, suppressing their giggles. Carlacia nudged Y/N with a wink. "You better deliver tonight," she whispered.

"Oh, I will," Y/N murmured, smirking.

At the long dining table, everyone was buzzing with conversation as Austin laid down the last plate. Drew, seated next to Y/N, had one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. She eyed the mac and cheese near him and decided it was time to set the plan in motion.

"Hey, can you pass the mac and cheese, please, buddy?" Y/N asked, her voice casual.

Drew froze mid-conversation, his head snapping toward her. His brows furrowed in confusion as he glanced at the plate, then back at her. "Uh, sure... babe," he said, emphasizing the word as he slid the dish toward her.

"Thanks, dude," Y/N replied nonchalantly, biting back a grin.

Across the table, Carlacia snorted into her drink, and Madelyn covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. Drew's jaw dropped slightly as he turned to her again, a mixture of offense and bewilderment crossing his face.

"Dude?" he repeated under his breath, as if the word left a bad taste.

"Hmm?" Y/N feigned innocence, loading her plate with mac and cheese.

Shaking his head, Drew tried to let it go, but the girls' muffled laughter didn't escape him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't press further—yet.

The dinner continued with more subtle jabs from Y/N. "Hey, pal, can you pass the salt?" she asked later, earning another baffled look from Drew. When he handed it to her, she responded with a cheerful "Thanks, champ!"

By the time they cleared the table and set up for games, Drew was visibly on edge, his lips pursed as he watched Y/N interact with the group.

They were midway through a heated round of charades when Y/N delivered the final blow. "Your turn, bro!" she called to Drew, grinning widely.

That did it. Drew stopped in his tracks, tossing the game card onto the coffee table. "It's babe! Not 'dude,' not 'buddy,' and CERTAINLY not bro!" he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in exasperation. His hands flew up in frustration, and he turned to Y/N with wide eyes. "What did I do? Are you mad at me? Why are you calling me that?"

Y/N couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, doubling over as tears welled in her eyes. Carlacia and Madelyn followed suit, collapsing against each other in hysterics.

Drew's jaw dropped further. "This—this was a joke?" he asked, his voice wavering between relief and indignation.

Y/N wiped her eyes, reaching for him. "Yes, babe, it was a joke. The girls dared me to do it to see how you'd react."

Drew folded his arms, pouting dramatically. "That's mean. You nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered.

"Aww, come on," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing kisses to his cheek. "You know I love you, babe."

Drew let out a dramatic sigh but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his face. "You're lucky I'm obsessed with you."

"Lucky?" Y/N teased, kissing him again. "You're the lucky one, Drewseph."

The guys, still confused about what had just transpired, looked at each other. "Are we supposed to get it?" Austin whispered to Chase.

"No clue," Chase replied, shaking his head.

The girls' laughter echoed through the apartment as Drew finally cracked, pulling Y/N closer and resting his forehead against hers. "You owe me," he murmured.

"Anything you want, babe," Y/N whispered back, her grin mischievous. "But admit it—you love me even when I call you dude."

Drew groaned, shaking his head. "Don't push it."

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was so sweet and silly !! going to get through to some angst requests soon, i feel like i’ve been drowning you all in fluff which is CRAZY because i’m an angst girly at heart🫣 i have enjoyed writing happy drew & rafe so i can’t complain !!

pls send some angst requests pls !! mainly w/ a happy ending :)

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion | Aaron Pierre

Pairings: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: none

Series summary: Aaron and YN’s friendship has stood the test of time, but when the chance for something more comes, will they risk everything for a love that feels impossible—or keep circling around the truth of their hearts?

Chapter summary: A night of nostalgia and reconnection at a high school reunion stirs old emotions, leaving two friends questioning the boundaries of their relationship and the possibilities they’ve always left unspoken.

Word Count: 2.5K

a/n: i wanted to try my hand something really cliche and fluffy like a friends to lovers trope - this will be a slow burn (my own fault lol) - writing a series has never been my strong suit so you'll have to bear with me

The smell of something warm and savoury hit YN the moment she stepped through the door of Marcus and Aisha’s townhouse. She could hear the faint murmur of voices and the clink of glasses before the hosts themselves emerged from the kitchen, their faces lighting up in unison.

“Finally! The last piece of the puzzle,” Marcus declared, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“YN, you look gorgeous, as always,” Aisha chimed in, giving her a quick but warm hug. “Come in, food’s almost ready, and we’re all starving.”

“Let me guess,” YN teased as she slipped off her coat. “Nobody wanted to wait for me, but Marcus said it’d be rude to start without the whole group.”

“She gets me,” Marcus said with a wink, ushering her into the dining area. The room was alive with laughter and chatter, every familiar face instantly making her feel at ease. There was Michelle, always animated, waving her wine glass like a conductor’s baton as she told some wild story. Isaiah, who leaned back in his chair with that quiet grin, nodding along. And Aaron, seated at the end of the table, his presence as steady as ever, offering her a small, knowing smile when their eyes met.

She settled into the open seat beside Aaron, her heart giving the faintest flutter. It wasn’t the kind of flutter that screamed attraction—not outwardly, anyway. It was more like the warm ache of familiarity; the gravitational pull she’d always felt toward him.

“Glad you made it,” Aaron said, his tone easy, like they hadn’t seen each other in a while even though it had only been a week.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, her voice light.

The evening unfolded effortlessly. Plates of food were passed around, stories from their university days resurfaced, and the wine flowed as freely as the laughter. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Marcus raised his glass dramatically.

“Alright, team,” he began. “Before we subject ourselves to the chaos of tonight’s reunion, I propose a toast. To surviving high school, thriving in adulthood—”

“… and for surviving the reunion without resorting to violence,” Michelle cut in, raising her glass higher.

“Exactly,” Marcus said with a grin. “Cheers!”

Glasses clinked, and someone muttered, “We’re gonna need more drinks if we run into Kevin Thompson. That man never learned how to shut up.”

“Amen to that,” Aisha added, and the group erupted into laughter.

By the time the limo arrived, everyone was buzzing—part excitement, part nervous energy. YN had just texted Trey to let him know where to meet them, and now she found herself fussing with the hem of her dress in the mirror by the door.

“You’re good,” Aaron said as he passed by, his tone so casual it almost sounded indifferent. But she caught the faintest softening in his expression, like he’d been paying closer attention than he let on.

“Thanks,” she replied, her smile shy. She adjusted her earrings and turned back to the group, who were gathering coats and handbags in a flurry of last-minute preparations.

“YN, you need to teach Trey our trick for changing the subject when Kevin inevitably tries to corner us,” Isaiah teased as they stepped into the limo, his tone light and teasing.

Aaron, seated across from her in the limo, greeted Trey with a handshake and a brief but polite smile. There was no tension, no lingering looks that might give anything away. Aaron played his part with impeccable grace, though YN knew him well enough to notice the way he carried himself—a quiet, measured restraint that only someone who knew him intimately would pick up on.

The reunion venue was alive with energy, laughter echoing through the halls as old friends reconnected. The music thrummed softly in the background of the high school reunion; a curated playlist of throwbacks meant to stir nostalgia. YN adjusted the strap of her dress and smoothed down the fabric for what felt like the fiftieth time since walking through the doors. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she made her way into the main hall, her date trailing slightly behind her, holding two glasses of champagne. But it wasn’t long before someone approached their group, drink in hand, eyes glinting with curiosity.

“Wow, YN,” they said, their tone light but laced with something else. “I always thought you and Aaron would’ve ended up together by now. Guess a lot’s changed, huh?”

The comment hit like a stone skipping across water, rippling through the group. YN’s smile faltered for just a second, but it was long enough for Aaron to notice. He said nothing, his face a mask of calm as he took a sip of his drink. Trey’s hand rested lightly on her back, a gesture meant to steady her, though she wasn’t sure if he even caught the shift in atmosphere.

“Life’s full of surprises,” Aaron said smoothly, breaking the silence. His voice was even, his smile cordial, and yet there was a weight to his words that lingered even after the moment passed.

As the group moved on, the comment left a faint but undeniable tension in its wake. YN couldn’t shake the unease that settled in her chest, and Aaron noticed the slight change in her posture, the way her laugh felt a little more forced. He stayed quiet at first, letting the others fill the space. He’d always been good at observing, at reading the room. But he said nothing, keeping his thoughts locked away, as he always had.

The night seemed to stretch in an oddly suspended way, time moving both too fast and too slow as the reunion came to a close. Laughter still lingered in the air, the sound of glasses clinking faintly from other groups still enjoying their night. YN stood with her friends just outside the venue, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the warmth of the party. Her fingers tugged at the straps of her clutch absentmindedly, her mind flitting between Trey’s steady presence beside her and the earlier comment that seemed to have shifted something imperceptible in the air.

One by one, the group made their way to the limo parked at the curb, the energy mellowing into a comfortable buzz. Aaron leaned against the vehicle, his frame effortlessly commanding as he exchanged a few light-hearted remarks with Marcus and Aisha. YN caught herself glancing his way—his smile, the casual ease in his posture. He looked entirely at peace, and yet, something about him tonight had her questioning if that was entirely true.

As they piled into the limo, conversation resumed, though quieter now. Marcus cracked a joke about one of their old classmates that earned a ripple of laughter, but the words barely registered for YN. Trey sat beside her, his arm draped loosely across the back of the seat, while Aaron settled in across from them. The confined space, while luxurious, felt heavy. Every glance, every movement seemed magnified.

YN found herself hyper-aware of Aaron’s presence—of the way his gaze flicked out the window, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. If he noticed the way Trey’s thumb brushed against her shoulder, he didn’t show it. Instead, he remained composed, even offering Trey a polite, “Good meeting you tonight.” Trey nodded in return, the exchange brief but cordial. It was Aaron’s restraint that struck her most—not a flicker of jealousy, not a hint of bitterness. Just that quiet, unreadable strength he carried so well.

The ride stretched on as the limo began its route of dropping everyone home. First was Marcus, who exited with a lingering grin and a playful, “Don’t forget, we survived high school, but some of these people definitely peaked.” Aisha rolled her eyes but laughed as she climbed out next, pausing to hug YN tightly. As she leaned in, her voice dropped to a whisper only YN could hear.

“Call me in the morning, okay? We’ll talk.”

YN tightened her hold just slightly in response, the gesture subtle but enough to convey her agreement. When Aisha finally pulled away, she offered YN a small, knowing smile before disappearing into the night.

Now, it was just the three of them—Aaron, YN, and Trey. The tension in the car shifted again, more noticeable in the absence of their friends. Trey filled the silence with a comment about the night’s playlist, oblivious to the glances YN kept stealing toward Aaron. When they finally reached Trey’s stop, he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and promised to text her when he got home.

The moment he left the car though, it felt as though the very air changed. YN and Aaron sat in silence as the limo pulled away, the city lights painting fleeting patterns across their faces. She could feel his eyes on her, though she couldn’t bring herself to look his way. Her chest felt tight, her thoughts too loud in the quiet.

“You okay?” His voice broke through, low and steady - his question layered with a deeper meaning, eluding to her happiness.

“Yeah.” She forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just tired.”

Aaron nodded, his expression unreadable. “It was a good night.”

“Yeah,” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

The limo finally came to a stop outside her flat. Aaron moved to open the door for her, his movements deliberate and smooth. She stepped out, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Turning back, she met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them in the quiet.

“Goodnight, Aaron,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, YN.” His voice was softer now, almost tender.

She walked to her door, feeling his eyes on her until she stepped inside. As the door clicked shut behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. Her flat felt too quiet, too still compared to the night’s events. Kicking off her heels, she made her way to the bathroom, mechanically removing her makeup and letting the cool water centre her.

Yet, as she climbed into bed, her mind refused to settle. The reunion, the comment, the limo ride—it all played on a loop. And Aaron. Always Aaron.

Across town, Aaron sat in the back of the limo, his thoughts similarly restless. His elbow rested against the door; his fingers pressed to his temple as he replayed the night. The smile on YN’s face, the warmth in her laugh—he wanted her to have that happiness, even if it wasn’t with him. But the ache in his chest told him what he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Some truths, no matter how deeply buried, had a way of surfacing. And tonight felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name yet.

The morning after the reunion was slow to rise, the early rays of sun filtering through YN’s curtains, casting gentle streaks of light across her bed. She lay still, her duvet tangled around her legs, as fragmented memories of last night played out in her mind like an unfinished film. The laughter, the faces she hadn’t seen in years, the subtle tension that had wrapped itself around her chest like a second skin.

And then, Aaron.

Her eyes fluttered shut again as her thoughts drifted back to the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his laugh. The way he’d greeted Trey with that effortless grace, as though it didn’t cost him a single thing to see her on another man’s arm. But it wasn’t just that moment—it was the echo of words she hadn’t even spoken aloud, the unshakeable ache of wanting something that felt impossible. Her chest stirred with a confusing mix of nerves, regret, longing, and compassion, each emotion vying for space in the quiet of her bedroom.

She sighed, her arm draping across her face as if she could block it all out. This was why she hated reunions. Too much digging up the past, too much pretending things were simpler than they were. Just as she turned over, trying to will herself back into the sanctuary of sleep, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen was a welcome distraction.

Aisha.

“Hey,” YN answered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

“You sound like death,” Aisha teased, the warmth in her tone softening the jab. “Late night?”

“You were there, you know it was,” YN replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“True, but I wasn’t the one with a date,” Aisha countered lightly, her words skimming just close enough to the edge of teasing to make YN’s stomach twist.

“Trey’s not... it’s not serious,” YN said quickly, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. Her voice was quiet, but even she could hear the uncertainty laced in it.

“Hmm,” was all Aisha said in response, a non-committal hum that spoke volumes. “So... you’ve been thinking about last night, haven’t you?”

YN’s silence was answer enough. She stared at the wall, her mind already wandering back to the moment in the ballroom when someone’s offhand comment had shattered the fragile bubble of normalcy she’d tried to build.

“We always thought you and Aaron would’ve been together by now.”

The words had lingered like smoke, choking the air out of the room. YN hadn’t even looked at Aaron then; she couldn’t. Her heart had clenched too tightly at the thought of what could’ve been, what should’ve been—but wasn’t. Aisha’s voice brought her back to the present.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Aisha asked, her tone softer now, almost tentative.

“No,” YN lied, too quickly, and the weak conviction in her voice betrayed her.

“YN,” Aisha pressed gently, “we’re all rooting for you two, you know that, right? We stopped pushing the agenda a long time ago, hoping you’d find each other in your own time. But... we don’t want it to be too late. We don’t want to see you both settle for less when you could have each other.”

YN swallowed hard, her throat tight with unspoken emotion. “On paper we work, but we’re people, not paper,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. The words felt heavier than she expected, like they carried the weight of years of doubt, fear, and unacknowledged longing.

Aisha was silent for a moment, letting YN’s words settle. “You really believe that?”

YN didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mind was already drifting again, back to the countless moments over the years that had tethered her and Aaron together. The stolen glances, the inside jokes, the quiet understanding that didn’t need words. The way he could read her moods with a single look, how he’d always known what to say—or what not to say—when she needed it most.

Practically soulmates, she thought bitterly. Always orbiting, never colliding.

“You’re not answering me,” Aisha said, her voice pulling YN back to the present again. “You know, for someone who’s so good with words, you get awfully quiet when it comes to Aaron.”

“I’m just tired,” YN said, though even she didn’t believe it.

“Mhm,” Aisha replied, clearly unconvinced. “Well, get some rest. But we’re talking about this. Properly. Tomorrow.”

There was a pause before Aisha added, “And YN? Just... think about it. Really think about it. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?”

YN tightened her grip on the phone, her heart hammering in her chest. “Goodbye, Aisha.”

“Okay, babe,” Aisha said softly, and the call ended with a quiet click.

YN sat in the silence that followed, Aisha’s words echoing in her mind like a haunting melody. What’s scarier: risking the friendship or never knowing what it could’ve been?

She exhaled shakily, leaning back against the headboard and letting her head fall back. The weight of the question settled over her, heavy and unrelenting. Because deep down, she already knew the answer. She was just too afraid to admit it.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[urhoneycombwitch]

Hi, cutie 😘 Slutty metalhead for your thoughts?

oh SO many thoughts but u know the main one rn is… nostalgia 😭 look at that fresh faced baby boy. made me think of revisiting that spot in your later years with Eddie… back in town for a wedding, mayhaps…? I love u sooooo much sarah!!! muah muah muah 

(cw: drug & alcohol mention, R wears heels+ a dress and has breasts, fade-to-black sex SOZ mdni +18 as always!!)

Eddie looks so good in a tux. Except right now, he’s yanking at the loop of his tie like it’s choking him (it isn’t, he’s being dramatic), and shedding the confines of his smart black tailcoat into a messy pile in the back of the van (on loan from Uncle Wayne for the duration of your visit, the engine still running miraculously smooth after all these years).

Nancy and Jon aren’t getting married until tomorrow so now that the rehearsal dinner is done with, everyone is under strict instructions to rest up for the big day- but based off the gleam in Eddie’s eye and the corners he’s taking at light speed, you’re guessing the guest bed at the trailer isn’t the main destination right now.

You get comfy, too, kicking off your heels, tucking your feet up underneath the silk of your dress train, giggling as Eddie talks a mile a minute. It feels like old times; the passenger window gets rolled down, cool spring night air of Hawkins breathing life back into the both of you. 

It was stuffy, hot, and crowded in the main hall, a raucous ball of light and music and hugs over tables loaded with food; you both went delirious with happiness at seeing everyone in one room again.

Even so, the stark contrast of the still, dark forest is a relief. Eddie parks at the edge of trees just outside Hawkins High, pools of light from the parking lot swallowed by the thick perimeter of sycamores. 

You’ve never been on this side of the forest before- the two of you were friends, in highschool, but Eddie was a deft hand at keeping you away from his less savory dealings back in the day. 

Now, he takes your hand, confident and sure-footed, your bare feet pressing into the soft underbrush as you follow close behind. 

After a minute, your eyes adjust- at dizzying heights, the trees split apart to reveal the sky, twinkling pinpricks of stars lighting your path to the centre of the woods. Eddie’s laughing while he recounts the time an old gym teacher caught him out here, and points out the exact tree he had to scramble up to get away. 

Your fingers are warm, weaved in between his, and it’s either the champagne or the love that makes you tipsy, leaning into the twine of arms, resting your forehead against his shoulder- “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Nah.” Eddie kisses the crown of your head, strokes his thumb over your knuckles as the picnic table appears into view. “Glad you stayed out of trouble and let me be the one to get into it.”

The wood table is decidedly much older than in its heyday as a pharmacy counter, but in good enough condition to hold your weight as you sit right on top, leaning back into your hands- “Got into plenty of trouble, I was just a bit better at hiding it, s’all.”

“That right?” Eddie comes to stand between the v of your spread legs, hem of your dress climbing along with his hands that settle on either side of your bare thighs. In the moonlight, the sleek black of his hair glows, backlit in white like a halo.

He’s grinning. You are, too, no sense in playing coy- but you’ve got another card to play, before the chase is up. 

“Actually, I kind of brought you out here for something.” You sit up, pressing the length of your body against his, breasts to chest, nose notching to the side of his own; Eddie sucks in a painfully sharp breath. 

When your leg hooks at his hip, pelvis pulling flush with yours, his grip tightens.

You kiss your way up the column of his neck, then whisper, “I was kinda hoping I could buy some weed off you.”

“I- whuh?” Not quite words, Eddie talks around a tongue that’s gone limp; his head swims from the feeling of your teeth behind his ear. “You wanna… I don’t. I won’t charge you.”

You tsk, pulling away just far enough to give a reproachful look- “Come on, did you give up the goods this easy for every pretty girl who asked?”

“Nope. Just for you.” An easy and honest answer. Eddie slots himself further into the warmth of your body, the growing bulge in his slacks making contact with the strip of wet fabric between your thighs; you moan into his kiss, tongues a greedy slide of want in the others’ mouth.

Trying to keep up some semblance of the roleplay, you gasp out- “You didn’t even… let me offer to pay- oh, fuck, there- with an alternative method…”

Eddie gets a hand past the cup of your bra, massaging the fat and catching your nipple in a twist between thumb and forefinger. Your spine arches into the touch, giving Eddie’s other hand ample room to press against your low back, keeping you rocking forward in a slow grind.

“Let me guess.” His breath is a ragged heat at the side of your neck. “Was sex on the table?”

“Exactly.” 

With a tug to his roots, Eddie follows you down flat against the creaking wood, laughing at your quick wit, relaxing into your body- there’s nothing scary about these woods anymore. 

[echo-riot]

hiii, can you do a headcanon of Ambessa with a girlfriend who is super spoiled and Ambessa does everything for her cause she’s in love. thanks

Ofcccc here’s Ambessa with her super spoiled girlfriend

•|||——————————————————————|||•

Ambessa is completely and utterly smitten. She sees her girlfriend as a queen, and she’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s treated as one.

She loves spoiling her girlfriend with extravagant gifts: jewelry, designer clothes, rare perfumes from foreign lands—you name it, Ambessa has it wrapped and delivered to her door.

Ambessa’s favorite pastime is watching her girlfriend’s eyes light up when she surprises her. “You deserve the world, and I’ll make sure you have it,” she says without hesitation.

Breakfast in bed? Always. Ambessa ensures her girlfriend starts every morning with freshly brewed coffee or tea, perfectly made pastries, and her favorite fruit.

If her girlfriend even hints at wanting something, Ambessa makes it happen—whether it’s a vacation, a limited-edition item, or a small luxury like a specific shade of lipstick.

Massages on demand. After a long day, Ambessa insists her girlfriend relax while she knead the tension out of her shoulders with her strong hands.

Ambessa personally oversees her girlfriend’s security. She won’t tolerate any risks to her safety, assigning her most loyal guards to her at all times.

She never lets her girlfriend lift a finger—ever. Whether it’s opening doors, carrying bags, or even pouring a drink, Ambessa insists, “That’s my job.”

When Ambessa is away on business, she writes long, heartfelt letters and sends lavish care packages so her girlfriend never feels lonely.

She’s fiercely protective. Anyone who dares insult or hurt her girlfriend learns quickly that Ambessa is not one to be trifled with.

Ambessa often calls her “my little empress” or “my treasure,” and her tone is always dripping with affection when she says it.

Private chef? Check. Ambessa hires the best culinary talent in the world to cater to her girlfriend’s every craving.

If her girlfriend ever gets upset, Ambessa immediately clears her schedule to comfort her. She hates seeing her unhappy and does everything in her power to make her smile.

Ambessa loves brushing or playing with her girlfriend’s hair. It’s one of her favorite ways to bond, especially during quiet moments together.

She’s attentive to her girlfriend’s needs and can read her moods easily. “What’s wrong, love? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

Date nights are always luxurious. Ambessa takes her girlfriend to exclusive restaurants, the opera, or on yacht trips under the stars.

Ambessa’s girlfriend is always dressed to impress, courtesy of Ambessa’s insistence on buying her custom-tailored outfits.

When they’re relaxing at home, Ambessa enjoys curling up with her girlfriend in front of the fireplace, sharing a glass of wine and soft conversation.

She keeps her girlfriend warm and cozy. Ambessa has an oversized fur cloak she drapes over her girlfriend whenever she’s cold, pulling her into her lap for added warmth.

If her girlfriend enjoys hobbies like painting or writing, Ambessa makes sure she has a luxurious studio filled with all the best supplies.

Public affection? Always classy but unmistakable. A hand at the small of her girlfriend’s back, a kiss to the knuckles, and a piercing glare at anyone who looks too long.

Ambessa constantly praises her girlfriend’s beauty, intelligence, and kindness. “You’re perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.”

On anniversaries, Ambessa goes all out—planning surprise getaways, designing custom jewelry, or even commissioning a portrait of the two of them.

Soft moments are her weakness. Seeing her girlfriend laugh, smile, or fall asleep in her arms melts the cold exterior Ambessa shows to the rest of the world.

Ambessa has no qualms about reminding her girlfriend how much she loves her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Never forget that.”

She’s not shy about reminding people of her girlfriend’s status, either. “Do you know who she is? Treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Ambessa secretly adores when her girlfriend gets a little bratty or demanding. It only fuels her desire to spoil her more.

Her girlfriend’s happiness is Ambessa’s top priority. Whether it’s through small gestures or grand displays, she lives to see her smile.

Ambessa dreams of retiring one day to a private estate where she and her girlfriend can live in peace, surrounded by luxury.

In the end, Ambessa would do anything for her girlfriend. She’s her greatest weakness, her greatest love, and the one thing Ambessa is truly soft for.

[leonastarry]

{ 8 } Once upon a dream. ✧. ┊    s.monarch!jinwoo x fem!reader. Song suggestion: Once upon a december.

Your university has organized a trip to an island for the best students. Luckily, you and your boyfriend - Sung Jinwoo were on the list of those selected. Everyone will go to the beach and visit the ruins of an ancient castle.

When you arrived at the island, you were overwhelmed by a castle built entirely of black stone, huge and mysterious. Although it had become old and eroded over time, what remained could actually prove its former glory.

Everyone had about 1 hour of free time, so you decided to go inside the castle. The inside of the castle was also pitch black, you didn't know why but everything felt familiar.

As you walked down the hallways, you suddenly saw an old and dusty painting hanging on the wall. You gently wiped the dust away and saw that it was a painting of a royal party. The figures in the painting were all black and purple, like shadows. What caught your attention were two people, who appeared to be the king and queen, sitting on the throne. Perhaps the painting was old, so you couldn't see their faces. You stared at the king, who had long black hair and wore a black suit of armor with streaks of amethyst.

You couldn't take your eyes off the painting, a nostalgic feeling rising in your mind. It…was so similar to the fragmented dreams in your memory.

Memories—half-formed and faint—began to flutter in your mind like snowflakes blown by the wind. A swirl of a dress, the warmth of a hand in yours, laughter echoing through the golden corridors.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Once upon a time, there was a land covered in darkness, with no day. The inhabitants were all shadow warriors of the king who ruled there. Here was a coronation ceremony for the kingdom's new queen.

Shadow dragons fly across the sky and around the majestic and mystical castle. Bears dance and all the other shadow soldiers are jubilantly celebrating this great event.

In the castle's throne room, delicious food is laid out. A large chandelier hangs above, its crystals refracting the soft light of the moon. You find yourself standing in the middle, slowly turning around as the ghost of a waltz envelops you.

Your breath quickens as shadows begin to gather around you. Not ominous shadows—no, these shadows are different. Soft, warm, familiar. They take shape, forming elegant figures dressed in flowing gowns and tailored suits. The room is now filled with whispers and laughter.

The shadows dance, their steps perfectly synchronized. A large soldier walks past her, tipping his hat in a polite salute. A giant ant nods respectfully to you as if he knows you.

And then he appears.

At the top of the grand staircase, a figure bathed in silver light. His face is sharp, majestic, and undeniably familiar. His gray eyes—dark and endless—meet yours, and you feel your heart pounding. He slowly descends, each step echoing like a heartbeat, until he stands before you. The surrounding figures immediately bow respectfully to their monarch.

He bends down, extending his hand to you, inviting you to dance. And as if mesmerized, you take his hand. A warmth spreads through you, dispelling the cold. As he leads her into the dance, the world around her becomes hazy and shimmering.

They move as if they have done this a thousand times before. His hand rests on her waist, hers lightly on his shoulder, their steps weaving through the other dancers.

The music swelled, filling the room with its haunting beauty. With each note, fragments of memories began to come together—nights spent in the ballroom, stolen moments under the stars, promises whispered in the silence of winter.

The music ended, and the man pulled you close and placed a kiss on your lips.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You were startled out of your daze when an arm wrapped around your shoulder and a familiar, deep voice appeared above your head.

"There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you."

You looked up and saw that it was your beloved boyfriend, Jinwoo. His gray eyes were looking at you tenderly.

"What keeps you standing here? Are you tired?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." You shook your head and smiled at him. "The painting is so beautiful that I couldn't help but look at it longer. I don't know why, but this painting feels so familiar."

His arm slid down to your waist and led you outside. "Maybe you've seen it in a movie before? This place is a famous filming location after all."

"Maybe so.."

You continued walking beside your boyfriend. But you didn't notice that his eyes suddenly flashed purple for a moment before disappearing, and his smile seemed to contain a mysterious feeling when he looked at you. And his shadow seemed to be longer...

All stories are written by Leona. Ask if you want to translate, do not repost, copy or plagiarize!

[angellic4l]

don’t hate the player - d.m

massive thank you’s to @esote-rika @wheresmacoffee @notlongtolove @floraisunwell @mggslover my absolute angels!!!

in which; fem!bau!reader goes to a jazz bar and bumps into the last person she’d ever want to see

content: flirty!derek, fem!bau!reader, angst!!, they fight sort of, reader hates morgan (i promise there’s a point to this) mentions of sex but no one does anything, swearing, alcohol consumption, reader wears a dress and heels

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i see basically no derek fics unless its smut (i dont read that) so i’m showing him some love!! i will continue with spencer fics im just stressing trying to write my ideas for him. kisses!!!

One of the girls’ playlists was blaring in the big bedroom, ‘Cool For The Summer’ reverberating off of the creme walls as each of you were primping and priming yourselves. Hair tools plugged in and on, makeup bags half empty with their contents spread throughout the room, and mirrors almost everywhere.

The night had been planned weeks in advance, and you were lucky enough to get the whole day off instead of having to use a sick day. It was one of your friends’ 27th birthday, and the first time you’d been out with your friends for a while, so all of you were buzzing with excitement.

She wanted to go to a jazz club, to ‘experience that ‘20s aesthetic’, in her words. You absolutely couldn’t wait to be celebrating your friend in a jazz bar, imagining soulful music as the soundtrack to your night, espresso martinis, and just having fun with your friends while you got ready.

Once done fixing your hair, you turned off the curler and unplugged it, setting it back on the heat proof mat before grabbing your hung up dress from the top of a door. You changed in the bathroom, stepping into the dress so as not to mess up your hair. It was the perfect mix of elegant yet sexy, form-fitting in the right places, but not too much skin on show to be deemed inappropriate.

After taking photos with and of the birthday girl, and then a group photo of you all on a polaroid camera, a taxi was ordered to the house. Excitement gathered in your stomach, the realisation that you were actually going out for the first time in forever, to celebrate one of your closest friends’ birthday no less, setting in and making you feel giddy.

As you all walked into the jazz club, you were greeted with a dimly lit room, illuminated with orange lighting to give it that cozy, intimate atmosphere. Red brick walls, decorated with vinyls, paintings, and wall lamps, were lined with brown leather booths. The sweet symphony of the saxophone softly sailed through the place before settling in your ears.

For the first time in a while, you felt alive, truly alive. Of course, working in high stake situations, apprehending some of the worst criminals known to man, and acting in life or death situations constantly fills you with adrenaline. That would be considered as feeling alive by most people, but it isn’t.

In this moment, you felt electric. You were on a high, not because of adrenaline, but because of pure euphoria. The atmosphere was welcoming, intimate, and so full of passion. You and your friends were all sat around a table sharing anecdotes, laughing, drinking, and just having fun. There was nothing to worry about, no nerves about a phone call from Hotch, no having to filter what you say.

It was pure bliss, everything you’d been missing for a while, and you felt like nothing and no one could bring you down from this peak.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being so in the moment with your friends, enjoying good gossip and reminiscing on your uni days together, meant that you weren’t really checking the time, nor did you care to. Subconsciously though, you figured it had been at least an hour since you’d arrived; 12 five minute songs had been performed, give or take.

Everyone was taking turns buying rounds, the group had agreed on it before the night. It was your turn to buy everyone’s drinks now. The bar was popular, but it wasn’t packed like a club was, and for that you were thankful. Carrying a tray of drinks back to the table, in heels no less, would’ve been a nightmare.

Standing at the deep brown, oak bar, waiting for the drinks, you watch your friends laughing and giggling. The contentment you felt still hadn’t gone away, coursing through your body as if it were inside every red blood cell, depositing this gleeful energy with each pump of your heart. A few moments pass before you turn your attention back to the bar, leaning on it ever so slightly, observing how the drinks are made.

Suddenly, you feel a presence to the side of you, but you figure it’s just another patron buying a drink. Then, there’s a voice. An all too familiar voice that seems to not only pull you down from your euphoric high, but plummet you deep into the depths of anger, too.

“Pretty girl, fancy seeing you here,” he almost sings and you can hear the arrogant smirk on his face without even turning to face him.

“Morgan. Please, for the love of all things good, do not talk to me,” you try to remain as civil as possible, he hasn’t actually done anything yet, and you’re not horrible.

Derek raises his hands in some mock surrender, but his smirk never wavers. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to humble him, wipe that smirk off of his face, and bring his ego down a few notches. Immensely gratifying, you’d decided a while ago.

To put it simply, Derek Morgan was everything you hated about men in today’s society. He was a cocky, arrogant, bastard with little to no regard for people’s feelings. And the worst thing? He talked about women as if they were conquests, notches in his bedpost, trophies for his fucking shelf. It pissed you off to no end, how he could act like the women he ‘dated’ or slept with weren’t real people who deserved basic human decency.

But, you worked with him, day in and day out, and you weren’t about to lose your job over someone as insufferable as him. Besides, as much as you could hate his self proclaimed ‘CasaNova’ ways, he was damn good at his job, and he hadn’t done anything to you directly. He was fully unaware of the stance you’d taken against him, and he hadn’t done anything to require you airing out your grievances. Yet.

A long suffering sigh escapes your gloss coated lips as you come to terms with these facts, realising you can’t be hostile to your coworker, even if you’re not at work, because he doesn’t even know you have a problem with him.

“Look, Morgan, I’m sorry for that, but I’m here with my friends, celebrating, and I want absolutely nothing to do with work right now,” you murmur, still leaning across the bar.

“Look, mama, I get it. Jus’ didn’t wanna be rude, that’s all,” his tone is soft, softer than you’ve ever heard Morgan speak, and it’s filled with understanding. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

The pair of you exchange small smiles, a fleeting farewell, before he grabs his drink and leaves. Maybe you’ve misunderstood him, even if you don’t agree with what he stands for, and maybe you’ve been too impulsive with your initial judgements. Derek Morgan is a dick, but maybe he isn’t always a dick.

Drinks are passed around the table, manicured hands grabbing at various coloured liquids in different shaped glasses. Euphoria is long gone after your interaction with Derek, no longer on that high of serenity but in a sea of uncertainty. You won’t let yourself be a Debby downer on your friend’s birthday, though. Being a profiler means knowing all of your own tells, so you mask them well, putting up a front of glee until it isn’t fake anymore.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Jazz music speaks to the soul, transcending all borders, dimensions, and whatever the hell else Reid talks about, to reach the quintessence of your being. Rhythmic notes reach deep until they’re at the core of you, becoming a balm to the very essence of yourself.

Being surrounded by something so passionate and deep works quickly to heighten your mood once more. The sea of uncertainty parts for serenity’s peak, the fake smile becoming real, and the way Derek’s surprising attitude had shifted your mood is washed away.

Out of nowhere, a server comes over to the table with a tray full of everyone’s exact orders, seemingly confident about the table number. She smiles at you, but your brow furrows with confusion.

“Oh, these can’t be for us, I just bought drinks,” you explain, confusion painting your face even more, bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and a small wrinkle in between your eyebrows.

“No, no, they are! That guy over there just ordered them all for you. Don’t worry, he didn’t touch them, just bought ‘em,” the server explains, pointing to none other than Derek Morgan, sitting at the bar.

All of the girls’ heads whip over to look in his direction, finding the man sitting on a bar stool next to his friends, but his attention isn’t on any of the guys. Instead, his gaze is on you, a soft smile playing at his lips, watching expectantly. For what, you don’t know, but it seems shady. If you know anything about Derek, it’s that he doesn’t do things that don’t benefit him directly. God, it’s almost too predictable, sending drinks to a table of pretty girls, hoping to luck out and get some.

Clearly, your own friends don’t share the same sentiment, because there’s a chorus of ‘awh’s once they recognise him as Derek. None of them have met him before, but they’ve seen pictures, having stalked each of the BAU members after your transfer request had been accepted.

The birthday girl says your name, almost as if you’d personally offended her, while hitting your arm lightly. For a moment, you’re afraid Derek sending you all drinks genuinely did offend her, but she’s speaking before the worry takes root.

“You didn’t tell us he was hot! My god, look at those muscles,” she raves, rolling her bottom lip beneath her teeth while staring at him past your head.

“Hot? You’re kidding, right? He’s awful.”

“He just bought us all drinks! That’s not awful, that’s lovely.”

“No, but he’s not actually like that. It’s just a ploy!”

“Not everyone has ulterior motives. I think you’re letting all that crime stuff get to your head.”

“You don’t see him like I see him, he’s really no-“ she cuts you off.

“Can I go for it? Am I his type?”

You actually have to bite back a scoff at that, because anyone that breathes is basically Derek Morgan’s type. He’s not good enough for your friend, not for any of them, but you know her well enough to see that she won’t listen to a bad word you say against him now. Truthfully, you’re resigned, you don’t care, it’s her choice. If she wants to make the bed and share it with him, she can lie in it, too.

“You’re stunning, of course you’re his type. Be my guest,” and the second the words are out of your mouth, she’s walking over to him like a lioness about to pounce on her prey.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

For the rest of the girls, two drinks becomes four, then shots, and before they know it they’re slurring their words, no longer making any sense. Of course, you’d come out tonight to celebrate your friend’s birthday, to have fun and let loose, but you also know that at least one of you needs to be somewhat sober.

Not to say you’re entirely sober, because your inhibitions are definitely a little loose, but it’s the kind of drunk that reduces your filter and boosts your confidence. You’re still in full control of yourself, just maybe not your mouth. Or your bladder’s strength, ever since you broke your seal.

Walking back from the bathrooms through a larger crowd than there was before isn’t too difficult, but the singer on stage now is semi-famous in the jazz world, so people are treating the bar like a concert, standing in your way. Succeeding in your mission to get through the crowd, your speed picks up once you’re in the clear, the clack of your heels becoming more frequent.

In your rush back to your friends, you aren’t properly taking in your surroundings, gaze trained on the table to ensure they’re all alright. Thus, you’re quickly met with something hard, prompting your foot to slip, and you stumble backwards.

A large hand reaches out quickly, grabbing your hip to stabilise you and resting there to make sure you’re alright.

“Watch your step, pretty girl,” the hand says and you know the voice too well, the nickname slipping off of his tongue like it’s nothing, and suddenly your eyes are on Derek Morgan’s face once more.

How fucking embarrassing.

“Oh gosh, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t even realise,” you rush out, not even thinking about the fact that the man you have a massive issue with has his hand on your hip still.

“Don’t apologise. You can push up on me anytime you want to, sweet thing,” his voice is smooth, tone suggestive, and the smirk on his face is one you’ve seen plenty of times before. When he’s talking to pretty female police officers on a case, after he gets a girl’s number, when he’s talking about his rendezvous to Rossi at work. The fact that it’s being directed at you makes you feel a bit sick, to be honest, and it’s definitely not the martinis.

Any and all uncertainty you had about Derek Morgan’s character is gone in a flash, as is the serenity, and is instead replaced by an overwhelming fire of rage because he is exactly what you thought he was. He’s a pig, a disgusting one at that, and no small one off conversation, or him buying your friends drinks, or how good he is with kids, or how great he is at the job will ever change that in your eyes.

While the alcohol may not be making you feel sick, it’s definitely doing a whole lot for this rage, feeding the flames and giving you the confidence to finally give Morgan a piece of your mind. However, you still have some semblance of self control and so, you hold back a little, but not completely.

“As if, Morgan.”

“Pretty girl, you don’t gotta play hard to get.”

His arrogance drips from every word that leaves his mouth, seeping from his pores like sap from a tree. The fact he genuinely believes that you aren’t saying no, is so full of himself he believes your dismissal is you ‘playing hard to get’ enrages you even more, fueling the fire of your rage for the last time. Grabbing his hand on your hip and shoving it off, you start talking, tone as bitter as ever.

“I am not playing hard to get, Morgan. I simply do not want you.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s all the hostility for?”

“Because you’re a classic player! You have no respect for women. You just think they’re there for you to fuck and move on.”

“You know what they say - ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

“No. I do hate the player. You’re a self centered, egotistical, whorish bastard who doesn’t see women as anything but notches on his fucking bedpost. You don’t have any fucking respect for anyone that isn’t beneficial to you. People are not pawns in your game, women are not queens waiting to be conquered. Grow the fuck up, Morgan.”

Your words wiped the stupid smirk right off of his stupid face, left him speechless and expressionless, like a deer in headlights. Like your words, you left him standing there too, heading back to your friends at the booth. You were right. It was immensely gratifying.

tags: @darkmatilda

[binglepringle]

CassCainWeek day 3!

Prompt: Silence | Music

Lyrics: “The Moon Will Sing” by The Crane Wives

⚠️TW: blood stain, signs of abuse

Image description: another surreal scene. a young Cassandra Cain comes towards the viewer, her pink dress stained with blood and a teary, dejected look on her face. The pink ties that were holding up her hair are coming out, and behind her, pink strings trail up the night sky from the eyes of the sun, who is given an older, blue-eyed man’s face. A trail of fire from the sun follows Cassandra, though she doesn’t seem to notice it. The moon, which takes place beside the sun and has no face, lights up a silver path. The lyrics to The Crane Wive’s song “The Moon Will Sing” read: “The moon will sing a song for me/I loved you like the sun.” End description.

[multific]

From Strangers to Soulmates

Isaac x Reader

Summary: You were new in town, and barely even had time to get used to your new home when your parents told you that you would marry one of the boys in the village. 

The news came to you one evening, an arrangement sealed without your consent but with your future in mind. 

It was a shock, to say the least.

Isaac, they said, was the son of a nice man in town, a hard worker with a reputation for kindness. 

Your family spoke highly of Isaac, though you had never met, you doubted your parents met him for more than a couple minutes. 

You barely knew anybody, so, you knew better than to argue or say no.

When the day of the wedding arrived, you stood across from him in the church.

Isaac's warm smile eased your nerves. He was handsome and he looked kind.

Thank God.

“I know this is sudden,” he whispered softly as the priest recited his words, “but I promise to be a good husband to you.”

His sincerity surprised you, and you found yourself nodding with a smile across your face.

Married life with Isaac was nothing like the tales of hardship you had heard from others. 

Each morning, he woke early to tend to the small farm behind your home.

When you woke, he had already prepared breakfast as he greeted you, along with his cheerful humming.

One morning, as the rooster crowed, you stumbled into the kitchen to find Isaac already dressed, kneading dough with flour on his hands.

He glanced up and grinned. 

“Good morning, Love. Sleep well?”

“I wanted to prepare breakfast this morning,” you replied, leaning against the doorway. "But you were faster than me."

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a cloth before he placed a kiss against your temple. 

“Breakfast is almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.”

He always insisted on taking care of you, though you often protested. When you brought him water or helped with chores, he thanked you with such genuine appreciation that your heart swelled.

Isaac was easy to love.

His kindness and sincerity made you feel at ease as you slowly began to fall in love.

In the evenings, after supper, the two of you often sat by the fire. 

Isaac would carve small wooden figures, birds, deer, and even a rabbit he once said was meant to be a cat.

“You’re teasing me,” you said, laughing as he handed it to you.

"What? It has... character.”

Despite your joy, you kept the carving on the mantle, just above the fireplace, treasuring every gift he gave because you knew he gave it from his heart.

On rainy nights, with the symphony of raindrops outside, he would read to you from the old Bible his mother had given him. 

His voice was steady and soothing, and though you weren’t particularly interested in his book, you loved the way his words filled the room.

As the weeks turned into months, the initial awkwardness between you faded. 

One evening, as you watched Isaac working by lantern light, you realized how much your feelings had grown.

“I never expected this,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He looked up from his task, brow furrowed. 

“What do you mean?”

“To feel this way about you. To find happiness... love.”

Setting his tools aside, Isaac crossed the room and knelt before you, taking your hands in his. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he admitted, his voice low and sincere. “You’ve made my life brighter than I ever imagined.”

You kissed him.

He took you to bed.

It was the first time you two had made love.

You finally became one.

That night, as you lay together beneath the blankets, he wrapped his arms around you. 

“I’ll spend every day making sure you’re happy. I love you.”

"I love you too."

And he did. 

From the quiet mornings to the laughter-filled evenings, Isaac’s love was constant, steady and unwavering.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[alaia777]

movies i’d pair with the blue lock guys

how to lose a guy in 10 days - oliver

i just think how to lose a guy in 10 days fits oliver so much. i can imagine him making a bet with his friends about how he can get any woman he wants to fall in love with him. he meets you, and coincidentally, you’ve made the same bet with your friends. the difference? you need to drive him away in 10 days.

he’s kind and charming, planning dates he knows you’ll love. you, on the other hand, show up to his practice with a cute lunchbox covered in cartoon characters and a smoothie in a hello kitty bottle. as if that isn’t enough, you yell, “go for it, sugar booger!” every time he needs to concentrate, throwing him off completely and causing him to make mistake after mistake.

you take things further, showing up while he’s out with his friends, carrying an album of “your future kids together,” complete with photoshopped pictures of your faces. when he gets home from that hangout, he finds his house decorated with flowers, pictures of you, and stuffed animals, along with a note on the table: “take care of them as if they were our babies. i’m going to check on them! — your honey bunny :)”

he’s already at his wit’s end with your antics. but then comes the moment. you know the one—when ben saw andie in that yellow dress and placed his hand on his heart? that’s him when he sees you wearing that exact dress, standing as his plus-one at the gala he was invited to.

you find out about his bet first, and you’re furious—even though you were doing the same thing. when he finds out about yours, he’s just as angry. but after the heat of the argument dies down, neither of you can deny the truth: somewhere along the way, it stopped being about winning and became about each other.

and maybe, just maybe, neither of you want the game to end.

13 going on 30 - rin

i always imagined that the person rin would end up with would be someone he knew as a kid. with this one, there’s a little twist—besides the whole waking up in the body of a 30-year-old. rin is the one who finds himself successful, with the football career he always wanted, finally stepping out of his brother’s shadow. he had everything he ever worked for, so why did it still feel like something was missing?

one night, while scrolling on his phone, he came across a post from a mutual friend. they mentioned that you were in the same city as him, and without thinking, he tracked you down, looking for some kind of closure.

when he saw you again, he couldn’t believe his eyes—how much you’d changed, how much you’d grown, and yet, how you were still just as beautiful as he remembered. you, on the other hand, didn’t recognize him at first. it had been years since you’d last seen each other, and while you weren’t holding a grudge against him for leaving, you hadn’t forgotten that he chose his dream over you. and the years that followed? he never checked in, never reached out—not even once. so when he showed up, you weren’t exactly keen on welcoming him back into your life.

still, something in his eyes made you pause. despite the hurt, you decided to hear him out, agreeing to spend the afternoon catching up. the two of you wandered the city, sharing recommendations and reliving bits of the past. you even ended up at a sports bar, where they were replaying a match rin had played in just a week ago.

“you’re a star now. why are you hanging out with someone like me after all these years?” you teased, a light smile on your face. but the words hit rin differently, pulling him deeper into thoughts he wasn’t ready to face.

by the end of the day, he finally found out why you were in the city—the reason you were here in the first place. your engagement.

the word hung in the air, cutting through the quiet between you. you said it casually, like it wasn’t earth-shattering, like it didn’t crack something deep inside him. you smiled as you mentioned your fiancé, your plans for the future, and rin felt something cold settle into his chest.

he didn’t know why it hurt this much. after all, he was the one who left. he was the one who chose football, who walked away from everything that could’ve been. but standing there, looking at you and the happiness in your eyes, it hit him—he hadn’t just left you behind. he’d left behind a part of himself.

and now it was too late.

the proposal - sae

honestly, while writing rin’s part, i couldn’t help but feel how well it would fit sae too. but i had another idea in mind, something a little more fun, and somehow, the theme of the proposal came into play. imagine this: you’re the intern to his manager, always being looked down on by him, ridiculed for your “stupid” wardrobe, and treated like you’re invisible.

things take a wild turn when, through a series of unfortunate events, sae almost finds himself getting deported back to japan. the reason? his visa wasn’t sorted out in time, and his team just couldn’t get everything in order. in a desperate attempt to solve the issue, his manager hatches a plan—you two are engaged and about to be married.

you hated the idea. absolutely disgusted by it. and sae? well, he couldn’t care less, as long as it got him out of the mess. before long, he found himself sitting at your family’s table in the middle of nowhere, in a tiny village with almost no phone signal. the plan was simple—tell your family the engagement is real and keep up the charade for a while.

before that though, there was the immigration officer incident. sae, in his usual overconfident way, tried bribing the officer to smooth things over, but instead almost landed himself in jail. somehow, that’s how he ended up stuck at your family’s house, with no way out of this ridiculous engagement ruse.

things started to go awry right away. sleeping on the floor, waking up at the crack of dawn because of him, and having to endure his morning yoga routine like it was some kind of ritual. you really couldn’t imagine how anyone could fall for someone like him.

but your family? they were determined to make the best of the situation. they dragged him to the bar, took him fishing, and tried to include him in everything else. sae grumbled through it all, but he didn’t hold back on his frustration. he even ended up reluctantly playing football with them, but everything else? no chance. he hated it. the awkward family dinners, the endless chatter, the ridiculous games—he was done with it all.

and then there was your ex-boyfriend. perfect in every way, smiling at things like tree branches, wearing ridiculous clothes, and seemingly so happy in ways sae could never understand. he watched you together, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t explain.

the whole situation was supposed to be temporary. sae just had to play along, pretend to be the future husband, and somehow make it through without drawing attention to how forced everything was. but somewhere between the early mornings, the family outings, and the odd moments of silence, something started to change.

by the time everything was sorted and sae was on his way back, you weren’t sure what to make of it all.

the door closed behind him, but somehow, you knew things weren’t as simple as they seemed. something had shifted, and you couldn’t tell if it was just the act or something more.

ೃ༄ i wanted to leave the endings open, to give room for interpretation. what do you guys think? :)

ೃ༄ i’m going to do a part 2 with different characters, but this time the movies won’t be rom-coms !

[angeldiarybook]

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐨!♡︎

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊

𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝐱 𝐒𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

•you guys usually go out to eat at fancy restaurants

•but he doesn’t quite mind when you pick your guys dates

•he knows he doesn’t have to try hard with you to impress you

•a simple casual date is fine with you,you reassured him many times it doesn’t have to be fancy

He’s in debt anyways

•a simple picnic packed with champagne or wine with berries at a near by park as the sun was setting seemed to always be your favorite

•movie nights films genre would mostly include Thriller,sci-fi,or crime films but he didn’t mind or care you picking a rom-com

•those nights would include you snuggled up to him while laying on your apartment couch as he’s fixated on the TV

•Aquarium dates must be his favorite

•he loves seeing you in awe as you admire and adore the fish around you

•he might even take a few pictures of you in the surrounding loving the way the water would reflect a blue lighting color onto you

Then he would take you to go eat fish at his moms shop💀

•cooking dinner together would include you rambling about your day or week in the kitchen as sang woo stays quiet carefully listening to you while doing most of the cooking

•he also likes taking you to a beach not so far away at night and taking walks there with your finger interlock with his

•one time you guys even went to an arcade with gi-hun and his daughter

•his wise self was able to win quite any prize you wanted

•as for taking you to fancy restaurant he gets you flowers each time he takes you picking them out carefully to your liking

•you both dress up nicely sometimes even matching

Guys I’m literally in love with park hae soo 😢 he’s so adorable as if he’s not 40💀 and well looking

[kookieskookiejar]

Star Wars AU

Dark Lord Jungkook x Rebellion Rookie Jedi Reader

Synopsis:

When you're captured by The New Order, you were sure the end of your life would come sooner than later, and being a rebellion pandawan, you've accepted death long before it came knocking, and you knew it'd come any time, just not this soon. However, what you didn't expect was to learn how to live under the man everyone fears.

Warnings under the cut!

Warnings: Mild bloodshed, mild slowburn, inaccurate depictions of the star wars universe (I'm sorry, I tried my best 😅), low-key tsundere Jungkook, age gap but both consenting adults, fluff, smut, face sitting, unprotected s*x, ch*king, body worship, Jungkook is a whipped mess ngl.

A/N: DON'T LIKE DON'T READ, SCROLL AND MOVE ON.

The cold cell was almost unbearable, you were obviously not dressed for this, thinking you’d be in Tatooine for a few days for a mission with your master along with the other fellow padawans, and now here you are, surrounded by four concrete walls, not even with your force could you break yourself out, you’re no Luke Skywalker, not even a window in this goddamn cell, not even a water bowl, the paper cup they had given you now drained next to you, your throat parched even though you haven’t spoken a word.

You kick the paper cup out of anger, this wasn’t supposed to happen, if only your master took your advice and ran for it, it was obvious that all of you were outnumbered, especially with him in the equation, you shudder, recalling the chill that ran down your spine, the scene was everyone’s worst nightmare, seeing that red lightsaber glow in the dark, his cape bellowing whilst a sandstorm brews behind because of the engine of his ship.

Lord Jungkook is his name, and he’s the current leader of The New Order, and he’s as ruthless as they come, everyone who used to know him describes him as a cold blooded killer, that he strives to prove himself to be even more cruel than Darth Vader, that he wanted to exceed the image of what was deemed the best, or the worst, depending on your political stance.

You muster up a weak depreciating chuckle, all your life, abandoned by your parents, sacrificing your childhood for the never ending training, and for what? Just to die this fucking soon in a worn down cell.

Your life has no meaning, all that pain and all those sleepless nights for nothing, no one’s going to remember you, you’ll just be another statistic, if you’re lucky enough that is, so many jedis are killed and no one finds out until months later, and that’s if they found the body or someone heard the news through word of mouth.

Before you could spiral any further down, someone unlocks your cell, three stormtroopers march in, heaving you up to your feet.

“Walk, and don’t try anything funny,” the clone demanded, his blaster pointed right at the juncture of your neck.

You don’t know where they’re taking you, every hallway looks the same, the same stark white hallway with lights that are too bright for your eyes, now you know why everyone wears a goddamn helmet here, you’re getting a migraine just from walking these few minutes.

When you finally reach a lift to the top floor, you were surprised by the dark interior, and that’s when you feel it, the same chilling feeling running down your spine, your hairs standing on its ends, immediately scanning your surroundings, looking for a way out.

“Don’t even think about it, walk,” the guard next to you says while the other requests for entrance with the other guard that’s sitting at the reception, the one next to you, stiffens up when those doors slid open.

There, a figure stands with their front facing the windows that show the beautiful red planet at a distance, the planet looking so much smaller from this height.

Jungkook is so much taller from a closer distance, you can see the back of his head, his hair gelled neatly, his helmet perched on the windowsill.

When the troopers leave, he finally turns to look at you, and you stop breathing briefly, not because of his force, but because of how drop dead gorgeous he is, his big piercing eyes stare right into your soul, his face screwed into an emotionless expression, but one thing that you can just tell from his face is that he’s not someone who’d let someone off lightly if he gets pissed off.

“You’re the one who tried to throw that boulder at my face, you’re more powerful than the other padawans” he states, rounding his desk with slow strides, his eyes calculating every micro expression that you refuse to show.

“Why? Hurt your pride?” you asked, sarcasm dripping in your tone, might as well piss him off and have his lightsaber plunged in your abdomen, it’s better to make this death quick.

“No, in fact, you piqued my interest, you’re not like the others, you’re smart, more powerful, I bet you’re not your master’s favourite, you intimidate him too much, I bet, I can offer you so much more,” Jungkook offers, leaning back onto his desk as he watches you with a quirk of his lips, his first expression of the night.

“No thanks, training under you would be even worse than that old man, just kill me like how you probably had the rest of them killed,” you say after a heave of dry laughter, that’s all you could muster up right now.

“It’d be a waste to just kill you, it’d be wasting too much potential, and I promise I’ll reward you generously, I’ll appreciate you more than that old geezer,” Jungkook banters, as if he could just tell from your face that you were treated unfairly under your master, now you know why he’s at the top, when he can’t kill his way up, he sweet talks his way through.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” you ask, pulling the thin jacket closer to your body for warmth, is this guy numb to feeling cold even?

“I won’t, you have my word… isn’t this arrangement better than death?” Jungkook says with a quirk of his brow.

“I thought someone like you would understand that death is better than many things in life in a time like this,” you say, looking into the dark space, gaze faraway, suddenly lost in thought, death feels very welcoming now, after what you've been through, and how there seems to be nothing waiting for you in the future.

You got so used to the feeling of Jungkook’s presence that you didn’t even realise he was next to you until he draped his jacket over your shoulders.

“I see myself in you, I won’t be like your old master, you might be wondering why I’d choose to do this… let’s just say, I don’t want you to end up in worse hands,” Jungkook says with an amusing glimmer in his eyes.

“Aren’t you the worst of them all?” you ask, turning to him, the movement has his scent wafting up your nostrils, and boy doesn’t he smell refreshing against all the desensitised clones and their hard suits.

“To others maybe, but I’m willing to be better towards you, it’s always only been a matter of choice for me,” Jungkook’s nowhere near a good person, but hearing him say this, when his hands are stained with endless bloodshed of his victims; it’s as if he could sense what you’re thinking because he speaks up before you could.

“I only kill those who don’t surrender…half of the time at least,” Jungkook adds after checking the stats at the back of his head, he doesn’t enjoy sugarcoating.

“Fine, but I’m blasting myself out of space with no oxygen if you piss me off,” you don’t why you’re agreeing to his offer when pretty much lost any desire to continue living on this life, it’s a stretch to hope that being on the dark side would be any better, but you’re willing to try, you have nothing to lose afterall.

Training with Jungkook is hard, but you don’t feel as burnt out, maybe it’s also the fact that Jungkook is a busy man, hence training never goes beyond 3 hours, it could be also the fact that you are very well fed here, no more fearing for a lack of supplies or eating beyond your limit when you’re no longer a pandawan under your master who was always on the run with a bunch of other pandawans where everything was stretched thin.

Today is no different, other than the fact that you’re blind folded, you’ve done this before, but you’re definitely no match against the Lord of the dark side of all people.

“You have to focus on the force, don’t be intimidated by my presence, just act like I’m R9F7,” you hear Jungkook say before you hear the robot himself speak up.

“Master, Miss almost took off my entire arm the last time I trained with her!” The robot speaks up in panic.

“Well I’m not you, am I? It’ll take a lot more to take off my arm,” Jungkook says before he deflects the metal stick in your hand, “Good job, you’re doing much better,” Jungkook praises before you manage to catch him again, having managed to pinpoint his presence, a brief sword fight breaks out between the two of you before Jungkook calls for a stop, his nimble fingers taking off your blindfold.

“Good job, you’re dismissed for the day, join me for dinner later, I’ll send R9F7 to fetch you,” Jungkook says before he retreats to the other side of the training room where the gym equipments are at, starting his own training of the day, he never fails to keep his body in its best condition.

“Dinner, with who?” you ask, usually you just eat with everyone else in the canteen where everyone else goes to, there’s not many places to go to on this ship anyways, but you’ve never seen Jungkook go down to have dinner with anyone else, you assume he eats in his own quarters or something.

“Just me, why? I’m not enough for you now, is that it?” Jungkook asks, obviously joking, but you can't read his expression, given that he's currently doing pull ups, his arms and back slightly distracting to you, just the slightest, you tell yourself.

“No! It’s just that, I thought you needed to show up to some event and I needed to show up or something,” you say, thanking R9F7 for fetching you a glass of water.

“I don’t have an audience with anyone yet, maybe in a month’s time, this is just a casual dinner,” Jungkook tells you while he starts doing his archer pull ups, and you’re so glad that damn robot had gone to refill your glass of water, that damn metal head cannot know you’re gawking at the way Jungkook’s arms flex against his weight, muscles rippling while your mouth waters.

“Y-yeah, okay, is there anything else?” you ask after snapping yourself out of that trance that’s stronger than any force.

“No, you’re free to leave if you want to,” Jungkook says, “but you have lessons with Captain Yoongi right?” Jungkook, being the busy man he is, sure is very clear with your schedule.

“Yeah,” you confirm, preparing to take your leave.

“Don’t crash into anymore asteroids, we have limited fighter ships on this ship, when we’re back on base, you can start making more mistakes,” Jungkook reminds you, obviously poking fun at you, if the tone wasn’t obvious enough, the slight upturn of his lips is a giveaway when he drops himself down to face you, you’re slightly taken aback, this is definitely not what most people see when they interact with Jungkook.

“If I’m making more mistakes when we’re back to base then I’m a failure,” you say with a huff after gathering your bearings, recalling all the moments your old master called you that.

“In all of my years of experience, I’ve met many failures, and you’re definitely not one, being bad at something is nature, being bad at fying a ship isn’t the end of the world, I could always get you a droid to do it, you just need to know how to get yourself out of an emergency if the droid isn’t available, it’s not a big deal,” Jungkook says before he finishes his set, the joking tone in his voice gone.

“Don’t worry, I like flying ships, hopefully I won’t need a droid to fly me everywhere, I’ll take my leave, or Captain Yoongi is gonna throw a fit again,” you say before retreating to the door.

“See you tonight,” you hear Jungkook say before you parrot it back to him.

You thought it’d be awkward to have dinner with Jungkook, but it’s going better than you ever imagined. Right now, you’re talking about your day with Captain Yoongi.

“He was like, ‘Kid, I’m not used to teaching someone who I’m not allowed to get mad at, and the fact that I won’t be able to even if I want to, I don’t lash out at women, don’t want my mother to pop in my head and give me a scolding’, then he started cursing at how the force works,” you retell before he breaks into yet another fit of laughter.

“Why did he say that even? What did you do to the old man?” Jungkook asks before he continues cutting into his steak, patiently waiting for you to continue your story.

“I said if you keep sighing you should just let a droid teach me,” you say before Jungkook doubles over, his piece of sliced steak forgotten, and at that moment, you think Jungkook has a pretty smile.

Today, you’re having a bad day, you couldn’t sleep well last night, your insomnia is always worse at the tail end of your menstrual cycle, so you’re naturally feeling really moody today, the sleep deprivation and changing hormones are getting to you.

Unfortunately for you, today you’re starting a new form of training, and it’s said to be hard, Jungkook described this as a form of virtual projection, crazy how a pair of goggles could teleport the two of you to a realistic battle.

You groan when the words ‘defeat’ flash across your sight.

“You need to focus, if you can’t get through this stimulation, how can you survive out there?” Jungkook asks, he doesn’t sound mad, he just sounds…realistic, for a lack of better word.

“Spar me,” Jungkook says before he gets into position.

“We can just do this without the goggles,” you suggest, but get into position anyways, sighing as you do so, this is going to be a long day.

“The wooden sticks are all the way in the gym, come on, just a little bit longer,” Jungkook says, but he could see the way your shoulders drop.

“Start,” Jungkook says before he advances onto you, he knows you’d never make the first move, your fighting style is always more on the defense.

The small stick that’s supposed to imitate your lightsaber hums when it clashes with Jungkook’s in the game, It’s like your body awakens, your brain going into fight mode when you dodge Jungkook’s second attack, planning on striking your leg after he identified that he can’t continue advancing with the first move, and you use the force to propel yourself backwards, your master never likes it when you do that, says it’s a sign of cowardice, but you’re not like the others, you strive for survival, which is why you didn’t think twice before you used the force to throw a rock at Jungkook, which he quickly sliced apart with his lightsaber, a look of bewilderment on his face.

“I had no idea you could do that in here, must be why we need to wear these gloves and weird socks on our legs,” Jungkook says before you see the mischief in his eyes, and that’s when you see it, his hands grasping the air in a similar movement to yours before you see a wrecked ship being hurled towards you.

You did a quick backflip, using the force to lift you in the air higher, landing back on the ground on your two feet.

“Now you’re just showing off,” Jungkook says before he advances onto you again, you deflect his attacks, the red of the imitation weapon glows dangerously close to your body, you would’ve been able to feel the heat of it if the two of you were using real lightsabers.

“Come on, this can’t be the best you can give me,” Jungkook taunts before he reels back and does a quick turn, catching you off guard, and immediately you panic, taking one hand off the stick to summon the force to push him back, sending Jungkook backwards, skidding on one knee to balance himself, before you feel yourself naturally wielding the lightsaber towards Jungkook, and right before you would’ve stabbed him, not that he’d get hurt in the simulation, you stopped, recalling that this is merely training, and that you’re not in actual danger, that Jungkook wouldn’t hurt you.

“You knocked the wind out of me, I had my guard down, but that was good,” Jungkook says as he gets up from his kneeled position.

“Sorry, I lost myself just now,” you said, your hand fidgeting with the stick.

“Don’t worry about it, being immersed in a fight is a good thing,” Jungkook says before he takes the goggles off, “let’s stop here for today, get some rest, you look like you need it,” Jungkook says before he disappears from your view, and you do the same, the virtual warzone disappearing right in front of your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep all that well last night, I’ll be better tomorrow,” you say as you pack up the equipment back to where it was.

“Don’t apologise, all of us have bad days, and if it’s too much, you could always let me know, get sufficient rest, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jungkook says with a comforting smile before he leaves, probably rushing off to a meeting with the council or something.

The first rumble of the spaceship had you jerking awake from the comfort of your bed, bounding out of bed with unsteady footsteps, you hold onto the side of your cabinet to look out your window, and you catch sight of x-wings and their lasers hitting the ship, immediately you start to sway at your feet.

You get dressed as quick as possible before running down to the control centre where you know Jungkook will probably be at by now.

No one questions when you step into the room, and you’ve never seen Jungkook this serious ever since the day you first met him, brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, the situation must not be looking too ideal, but still he senses you when you’re near him, turning away from the panels to look at you briefly.

“Not hurt?” he asks, Captain Yoongi casts a curious glance at his boss, but he remains silent.

“No, the protective shields on my side held up,” you answer, it’s nothing, standard procedure to check if the ship is alright, why did Yoongi find it weird?

Jungkook nods before he turns back to Yoongi, taking note of the situation and how their fighters are doing.

“It’s not ideal, there’s quite a large amount of those fuckers, half of our lasers are down, and the shields are at 40%,” Yoongi informs.

“Tell them to prepare my ship, I’ll handle them myself,” Jungkook says before he turns, preparing to descend down to the flight deck, his cape bellowing at his quick movement, you never liked capes, but you guess it’s tradition for the supreme leaders on the dark side.

“Wait! Alone?” you ask, a sliver of worry blooming in your chest, Jungkook always seemed invincible in your eyes when you only knew him through all the rumours, disregarding him as a person, that he might die, but now that you know him personally, he doesn’t seem as invincible anymore when he's no longer a myth in your head.

“Is that an issue?” Jungkook asks, confusion clear as day on his face, but his tone authoritative, you don’t dare to question him, it’s not your place to do so, especially not in front of everyone, Jungkook lets you get away with a lot of things, but this is probably not one of them.

“No, not an issue,” you say before letting go of his arm, and when he walked out, you could immediately see the tension in the people’s shoulders drop.

“He’s gonna be fine, kid, he’s got a reputation after all, he earned that through all the blood on his hands,” Yoongi reminds you before he gets back to his job, typical of your other mentor, he’s never the type to communicate more than what’s enough.

You stand idle as you watch the chaos unfold, Jungkook’s ship easily distinguishable by the additional purple streaks he had them installed when he didn’t like how his ship isn’t all that different from the others.

It swerves and dodges the x-wings’ lasers, zooming past the slower ones that got distracted by the other tie-fighters with a blast from his blasters attached to his ship, the red lasers dashing past, making contact with the jets before it blows up.

Every time he flies too fast and close to the exploding ships, you fear his ship is the one getting blown up.

The tension in your own shoulders drops slightly when you could see that the empire is winning with the dwindling numbers of ships.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses, but before you could ask why, you see it, a large rebel mothership emerges from a lightspeed portal, surrounded by more x-wings.

“We need more people out there! Deploy the remaining teams!” Yoongi shouts into the intercom system.

“How are the stakes looking now, Cap?”you ask as you watch, then you feel it, the tremor of the bond, the one that you thought would never be established between you and Jungkook, the ‘force’ bond that establishes between a master and a padawan, you can feel how stress he is, his anger sizzling through the air that only you can feel in this room.

“Not very good, it’s going to need a lot of our firepower to take out the mothership,” Yoongi tells you before he barks more orders at the people around him, directing them on how to take down the mothership with the bigger blasters attached to the ship.

Suddenly, a staff let out a gasp of alarm.

“Captain, one of main blasters are jammed, we were supposed to use it to blow out the mothership, at least to deter it before we decide to hyperspace jump if needed,” the man said, but he immediately clams up when he sees how dark Yoongi’s face had gotten significantly darker.

“And there’s no way to fix it?” Yoongi asks, his fists balled at his sides.

“The droid that is supposed to fix that section of the ship got damaged by a stray laser from the battle going on nearby,” the woman next to the man explains, you can sense the overwhelming amount of fear emitting from the two of them, the rest of the staff’s emotions peaking as well.

“I can defend myself out there, tell me how to fix it,” you ask the man, the poor guy not knowing how to respond at first, expecting the pandawan of Lord Jungkook to be just as brutal as the man himself, but before the man could answer to your demands, Yoongi speaks out immediately.

“No, if anything happens to you, Jungkook would have someone’s head,” Yoongi explains, arms crossed against his chest, his eyes stern.

“Well, if we die, he would have no heads to behead so…” you remind Yoongi, rocking on your heels, you know he’d budge, Yoongi is a man of logic, and he always says he isn’t paid enough to be this stressed out about this job.

“Fine, don’t you dare die,” Yoongi warns you before he delves right into the logistics of what went wrong and how to fix it.

“I’m serious kid, don’t you dare fucking die, kid,” Yoongi warns one last time as he helps you with the oxygen mask and oxygen tank.

“Make sure you don’t damage the hose from your tank, there’s a spare tank under hatches where the ship is marked red if you run out, a red flash would keep appearing if there’s a leak or if the oxygen levels start getting low,” Yoongi reminds you one last time.

“I know I know, Cap, you’ve told me so many times I’ve lost count on how many times you repeated this,” you joke as you try to cope with your nerves.

“Okay, I’ll be watching you from here, don’t get out of sight,” was the last thing Yoongi said before you stepped into the escape hatch area before the doors opened and the sight of the on-going battle greets you without any barriers, goosebumps rise on your skin when you take the first step into zero gravity.

Immediately your feet were jerked to stick to the surface of the ship, the magnetic shoes work at least, you think to yourself.

Following Yoongi’s directions, you quickly located the main blaster that was stuck.

However, before you could remove the debris that had the blaster stuck underneath its hatch, you caught the attention of a x-wing that had just took down a few tie fighters, and immediately it fires at your direction, the shield is still up, but you’re not part of the ship, you’d get strike down instantly, and so you did what your fight or flight response told you to do, and that was to roll away before your hand shoots out to jerk the ship away, but sadly, due to its weight, the ship barely moved, it was onto you again once you were back on your two feet.

The x-wing was coming onto you quick, diving down to where you stood, and you let the force guide you, doing a flip to get out of its way before your hand quickly retrieves your lightsaber that was strapped to your space suit to strike the wing of the x-wing, a huge chunk of the wing was chopped off and the ship goes skidding behind you before it comes crashing against the exterior of the control room, the ship blows up but the mothership is unscathed due to the shield barrier surrounding the ship.

A tremor goes through your body when you see Jungkook’s personal ship in your peripheral vision, you can feel the worry in the bond the both of you share, you don’t dwell on his reaction, quickly getting on your feet to fix the blaster as soon as possible, finally getting it unstuck.

Jungkook’s ship makes its way near you again, and you think he’s going to give you a quick ride back to the docking area, but before he could do so, you see a few ships tailing his, coming a little too close to comfort to where both you and Jungkook are situated, an ambush, a flurry of red and white chasing the lone black ship, the rebellion are really eyeing every opportunity to have Jungkook dead.

It was instinctual, you were raised to not have any fear, to die for the cause, even though you weren’t all that dedicated to any of the sides you have been on, but Jungkook is Jungkook, he’s not a side, and you don’t understand why you’re risking your life for him, but it just felt right when you harness all the force in your being to constrain the three ships together, the one in the middle exploding from the pressure while the other two begin to catch fire from the damage, the damage must’ve caught Jungkook’s attention, because before you felt all the energy fade from your body, you see his ship turn its back to you, flashes of red lasers are the last thing you see before your body slumps, your vision blacking out to fade into darkness.

Soft, to the point of being close to what you imagine sleeping on a cloud would feel like, is this how death feels like? So all the jedi afterlife world was complete bullshit? Not surprised, you always thought those jedis that claim to see their dead masters were all in such dire and desperate situations that they started having hallucinations.

But then you feel it, the receptors at the tips of your fingers, the smooth sheets under your palm, you’re alive, then you feel yourself jolting out of bed when your eyes pry themselves open in surprise, a gasp leaving your chest as you sit up.

“Miss is awake! I’ll fetch Lord Jungkook immediately!” you hear the voice of a droid say before the sound of the doors opening and closing reaches your ears.

Another droid dashes to tend to you, checking your pulse, your vision, and brain activity.

“Everything seems to be normal, miss, do you need me to fetch you anything?” the droid asks.

“You’re dismissed, I need to get ready for Jungkook’s arrival,” you say before you decide to power off the droid yourself, you're never too comfortable with droids anyways.

You quickly dash to your bathroom to wash up, change and comb your bird nest of hair, god forbid you let anyone see you like this.

When you come out of your bathroom, you spot Jungkook standing next to the droid, the droid rattling off your stats like it’s listing out a list of resources the ship needs when it lands for a refill.

“You shouldn’t have turned him off, what if you fainted in the bathroom?” Jungkook asks, turning to you after the droid was done with the updates.

“I was overexerted from using all that force, all that sleep got me feeling more refreshed than ever, he said I slept for two days straight,” you nod at the droid’s direction.

“Force exertion is the equivalent to getting a serious injury,” Jungkook says as his eyes scan your face for any signs of pain or discomfort, his hand reaches up to feel your forehead, if those doe eyes won’t be the death of you, that hand will be, you thought to yourself mindlessly before the rational part of your brain scolds you and tells those voices to shut up.

When Jungkook finally deemed you alright, the gentleness in his eyes disappeared.

“What were you thinking out there?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed!” Jungkook bursts out, the cold gaze he usually reserves for others now directed to you, but instead of cowering in fear in silence like others, you’re taken aback by that tone directed at you, never once has he ever reprimanded you this way, not even when you were first taken in as hostage, but you’re never the type to back down when a man raises his voice at you.

“Well, maybe I wanted to die! I was ready to die back when I first got here anyways!”

Jungkook is rarely ever speechless, this is the first time you’ve seen him flabbergasted, and in the worst way possible, you've never felt his wrath on you, the effect making your hairs stand on its ends.

“Did you still want to die? All this time? Even after being under my care?” Jungkook asks, his tone deadly, even if you were deaf, you’d be able to feel it through the force.

“I..” but before you could explain yourself out of the situation, or try to help him understand what you're uncertain you're even feeling yourself, you see the familiar bright sliver of his dagger, the one that you know he keeps by his side as a last means of defense, a weapon that is perfectly deadly in the hands of someone with the force.

You quickly dodge out of the way, summoning the force beneath your feet to elevate yourself, the dagger touching the tip of your feet, you're fast on your feet, on defense, but Jungkook has always been quick on offence, it's why the two of you work so well, the sound of a twang sounds behind you when the dagger etches into the wall, just the tip, before it lands on the metal floor.

“Stop defending yourself if you just want to die!” Jungkook bellows before he comes storming towards you, the blazing red glow of his lightsaber emitting off his sharp features.

At this moment, you don't want to die, you don't want to die seeing Jungkook angry, you don't want to die knowing that you had disappointed him, and so you draw your own lightsaber, quickly deflecting his own, the lasers deflecting sparks off each other, your lightsabers a contrast with one another, Jungkook’s being a shade of dark red, and yours being a faint shade of rogue, his eyes widen at the familiar colours, hesitation flickers across his face, and that's when you make your move, summoning force to your forefront to send Jungkook thumbling a few steps backwards while you catch your breath.

“I don't know how I want to live my life yet! I haven’t phased out from the life I led before you picked me up,” you say, your eyes downcast, you don’t know how to face him, in your defence, that’s the harsh truth, you were always wishing to leave, to get out, but you didn’t think that day would actually come until it did, and now you’re lost, all your life, you’ve been drifting aimlessly, a tree without roots, you don’t know your origins, you don’t know your future, and coming to terms to that in front of a person who probably has everything figured out is…shameful.

You finally look up from where your eyes were previously trained on the rough grip you had on the staff of your lightsaber, even though you could feel Jungkook’s hostility decreasing through the feel of the force, you know he isn’t entirely not angry, and your suspicions are confirmed when you’re greeted by the sight of his locked jaw and cold eyes, his lips still set in a thin line, but his lightsaber is switched off.

“I offered you the position of succeeding me, but you won’t take it, I was paving you a path, a way to live your life, you just have to say yes,” Jungkook looks at you, now with more warmth in his eyes, hopeful, but you can’t, you can’t promise him and yourself something that you’re so uncertain of.

“I’m not sure I have the capabilities to lead as well as you, and I’m not sure if that’s the life I want to live, I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you might as well be honest, it’s manipulative to lead him on just for the sake of the benefits of living here, under the protection of the new order and Jungkook, and if he wishes to end your life right here, then he has every right to.

“You disappoint me,” Jungkook mutters before he turns his back to leave the room, leaving you wondering if maybe you should’ve just said yes to appease him, or that maybe death is a better fate than disappointing the person who you actually sort of look up to.

Later in the day, you don’t see Jungkook, everyone’s busy with packing to get ready to return to base, a first for you, you didn’t even know where you would’ve been staying until a droid came over to tell you that it would be responsible for escorting you to your new quarters.

When you finally arrive, you’re greeted by the sight of a healthy green planet, you were quick to get off, with your limited belongings, the droid enthusiastically escorting you to your new quarters, which turns out to be a large unit within the base.

“Everything’s been modelled to suit the aesthetic you had picked prior, miss, the fridge is stocked, heating is available, running water is available, heated water as well, I was also advised to stock up your wardrobe, everything is according to the measurements you sent, and whatever daily necessities you may need, miss, when things run out, just type in what you need in the tablet available by your bedside, miss,” the droid explains with wide gestures and quick steps to show where everything is.

“Thank you, you’re dismissed, I won’t be needing anything else,” you say with a curt bow, to which the droid returns.

“Before I leave, here’s your keycard, miss, but you can use the facial recognition system which can be turned off in the settings panel as well, no one can come into your room without authorisation, so don’t worry about anyone barging into your room, miss, that is all, miss, have a good rest, miss,” the droid says before finally stepping out the door.

So this is where you’ll be staying when you’re not travelling, you look around with a huff, it is nice, but you’ve never lived in such a spacious place before, being on the run meant you had to sleep in tight places with someone in your personal space, maybe you’re a greedy bitch for wanting the luxuries that come with being Jungkook’s pandawan without accepting the duties that come with it, should you leave? Will he kill you if you do? With all the secrets you know, he probably will…this is a deadend for you.

A few days have passed since arriving to base and Jungkook and you have this cold war going on, you’ve only seen him in passing, he hasn’t scheduled a lesson ever since the confrontation, and maybe it’s a good thing, maybe he needs more time to think of what to do with you, in all honesty, you wouldn’t mind just being one of his fighters, at least you’ll get to stay.

There was a sudden fanfare today when you were out for lunch, you got to know what when the waitress sees you looking confused in your spot, watching the soldiers lining up outside a ship.

“You must be new here, that’s Lord and Lady Kim, they’re close friends with Lord Jungkook, dear, they’re the only few that know of this location and can freely travel in and out of base,” she explains before scurrying away when someone flags for her attention. You quickly finish up your food and return to the main building, it’s best to return in case you’re needed for whatever.

Celebrations were still ongoing when you got back, hopping off your hover car and quickly thanking the droid who works in the valet service.

You ask around to find out that the main celebrations are taking place in the grandhall, where major events are held and important announcements are made, which means the waitress was telling the truth about Lord and Lady Kim being very closely affiliated with Jungkook.

You’ve never seen the grandhall being decorated to the nines, so when the droids open the doors for you, you’re surprised by the grandeur decorations spanning the entire room, even the serving droids look freshly waxed, handing out food and champagne to everyone on shiny platters.

You spot Captain Yoongi a few feet away, nursing a glass of whiskey by himself.

“Hey, do you know them personally?” you ask when Yoongi sees you.

“Kind of yeah, but I’m not one of those kiss-assers,” Yoongi jokes with a jerk of his head to where the crowd is gathered, probably where Lord and Lady Kim are.

“You should say hi at least, be a good friend, cap,” you joke.

“The fact that I’m here is already a reach, I could be taking a nap right now and waited until the dinner to see them,” he retrots, finishing his glass before flagging down a droid for another glass, the two of you watching the people silently, if there’s anything the two of you can definitely get by, it’s people watching, or for Yoongi, people judging.

A few minutes later, the crowd finally parts, and everyone can see why, Jungkook has arrived and has gone straight for the couple, when the crowd parts, so does who you think is Lord Kim and Lady Kim, both of them tall in stature with kind smiles on their faces, you avert your gaze to the side and that's when you see him, Jungkook, saying something to Lord Kim, but when he feels your gaze on him, he diverts his attention to your direction, immediately his eyes harden at the sight of you.

“That's my cue to leave, cap,” you say before quickly downing the rest of your glass.

“Are you seriously going to avoid him forever?” Captain Yoongi asks with a scoff, “you and I both know he's never going to come around, so don't be the stubborn one, kid, he's way more stubborn,” he says, and you know what he means by that, Jungkook has an ego that comes with his reputation after all.

“I just need to figure some things out and so does he, I'm gonna go now, don't miss me too much,” you say before quickly sneaking away.

“Mind telling me who's the young lady that's got you so riled up yet you have no plans of killing her?” Namjoon asks his long time friend, Jungkook is like a younger brother to him at this point if he was being honest, so of course he's intrigued by Jungkook acting this way, a first in the many years he's known him since they were children.

“She's my pandawan, but she rejected my offer of having her lead the new order after me,” Jungkook mutters with disappointment before downing his glass, welcoming the burn of the alcohol down his throat.

“She's not that young though, do you plan on retiring early?” Namjoon asks with a shock, his wife, Sejin is intrigued as well, Jungkook isn't the type to hand over power so quickly based on their understanding of their dear friend.

“She's still many years younger than me, I could still take on another pandawan, or she could, was my initial plan, no one else had piqued my interest like she did, everyone else lacks in talent,” Jungkook explains.

“So you're mad she doesn't want to be your successor? Then you should just dismiss her as pandawan, you can always find a new one” Namjoon suggests with a dismissive wave of his hand, but Sejin could tell something was bothering him and that her husband's dismissive suggestion isn't something Jungkook wants to hear.

“Maybe you can keep her as your right hand woman, not everyone wants to be a leader, Jungkook,” she suggests, and from the way she could see you standing there in silence instead of socialising with the rest of the crowd, she could just tell you have no desire to lead an entire nation.

“Quite out of character for you to not kill her once she told you that,” Namjoon notes, which earns a swat on the arm by his wife, she doesn't want someone dying out of her husband's silly suggestion of all things, they did leave behind this life to lead a peaceful one, and that means as less bloodshed as possible, even indirectly.

“I wanted to, but I couldn't,” Jungkook says without further elaboration as he notes that you have already left the hall.

Namjoon and his wife share a look between themselves when they see the little bits of forlorn on his face that aren't obvious to others.

After a long day of training with R9F7 and practice flying a ship with Captain Yoongi, you felt tired and in dire need of a nap after a shower. When you had finally woken up, you thought of heading down the dining hall for dinner, but a small bouquet of flowers by your doorstep had you stopped in your tracks.

Miffed by the sight of it, you quickly look around to see who left it there, but noting that it's dinnertime now, chances of the person delivering the flowers having left long ago are quite high, so you bring it back in to read the note.

Written in what you presume is the florist’s handwriting, due to how neat it is, is an address, time, and a table reservation number for the restaurant listed.

You quickly change as you debate on whether you should go, whoever sent it is probably quite high in ranking to know which unit you stay, and is probably not someone that is against the order, since your living quarters have high security levels, so who sent those flowers?

Fuck it, you think to yourself, you're perfectly capable of protecting yourself, you reassure yourself as you pull on a dress and a brand new coat, you've never dressed up before, it was merely a fibble dream back then, to think you'd be able to live a stable life of riches and be adorned in the finest silks if you're willing to fight for a greater cause, you scoff at the thought of your old perceptions on life, no one would be able to afford such a life through justice, at least not anywhere in the near future, not as long as Jungkook exists.

Before you left your unit, you quickly strap your lightsaber on your thigh, just in case, you thought to yourself.

You summon R9F7 to drive your hover car, just in case you want to drink during or after the meal, depending on if the person you're meeting is someone you deem you should be weary of.

When you get to your destination, you quickly pat down your hair, maybe you should consider getting a hood installed on your hover car, you think to yourself as you tell R9F7 that he's free to walk around if he wants after he dropped you off.

Heading to the restaurant, you immediately walked up to the employee situated at the front of the property, noting that this place must be expensive if there's service right outside the restaurant and you also see two security droids in place.

“Reservations only, miss,” the waiter informs you without looking up from his tablet, seemingly uninterested in servicing you.

You state the reservation number for him and that's when he finally looks up.

“Please, right this way, miss,” he says as he gestures the droids to open the door, the gust of warm air providing a sense of comfort, until you see how fancy it is on the inside, velvet carpeting with intricate designs, customers dressed fancily, crystal chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, and cutlery that look more like fine jewellery in your eyes, but that's when you notice the stares and the whispers amongst the diners, they must've realised you're not a regular.

“That's the Dark Lord's pandawan, I saw her at the welcome ceremony of the Kims’ that day,” you catch someone saying, loud enough for someone with the force to hear.

You seriously hope no one recognises you in your seating area, you think to yourself before you finally come to a stop at a more secluded area, and the person waiting for you was none other than Lady Kim herself.

“It's nice to finally meet you, I'm not sure if you saw me that day during the welcoming ceremony, I'm Sejin, I've been friends with Jungkook for a long time, but my husband, Namjoon, is much closer to him. I thought I'd take this opportunity to get to know you, now that we're back for a visit, my husband is busy with catching up with his old friends, so I thought I'd take this chance to get to know you first, we're both women after all,” Lady Kim says as she stands up to shake your hand, gesturing you to take the seat in front of her.

“It's nice to meet you, Lady Kim, but I'm not sure why you would want to meet me of all people,” you say honestly, you would've understood if you met under formal circumstances, like being introduced by Jungkook as his pandawan, not in such a private situation, not even on base grounds.

“I wanted to meet you, you're Jungkook’s pandawan after all, being Jungkook’s close friend, I think it's normal to want to meet his pandawan,” she replies as she flags down a waiter to pour you a glass of wine identical to hers.

Gears turn in your head as you try to read the woman in front of you, after being under Jungkook, you've learned that people usually have the worst intentions and assumptions towards you, so you've grown to be cautious with strangers.

“I just thought we would've waited until our formal introduction with Lord Jungkook, but I have no qualms about meeting you for this dinner, Lady Kim,” you explained, not wanting to come off as hostile or reluctant to meet her, you don't want to offend her, especially given the fact that she seems almost like family to Jungkook.

“Please, just call me Sejin, Lady Kim makes me sound so old, and thank you so much for meeting me, sorry for not informing earlier, I was worried you wouldn't be willing to meet me if you had known,” she explains, her expression apologetic, but you understand where she's coming from, you don't like people knowing you're Jungkook’s pandawan either, they always have a bad perception of you.

“I wouldn't have minded, Lady Kim,” you quickly reply, still not forgoing the honorific, but she quickly amends you, chastising you in a lighthearted manner to not call her by her title.

“How old are you, darling? You look so young,” she remarks as the first two dishes are being laid on the table, you sure hope she didn't order too much, or anything too exotic, you weren't familiar with what people on the dark side eat until just a few months ago, there's still many things you've never tried.

“I'm 21,” you say before thanking Sejin for putting food on your table, even the ham looks fancier than usual in this restaurant.

“Oh my, you must've been so young when you were taken in by your first master,” Sejin exclaims, chopsticks hanging idly between her fingers when she registers what you said.

“I was trained under a jedi master before Jungkook,” you answer honestly, but albeit, hesitant, your loyalty lies with Jungkook, but you know the whispers of some of his men, how you're unworthy because you used to be under the rebellion.

“Darling, you don't have to be ashamed about your past, in fact, I was trained in a rebellion academy too,” Sejin says, which has your eyes going as wide as saucers.

“It wasn't the main rebellion base, just a small academy started by an old master who takes in orphaned kids who were blessed by the force but too old to be enrolled in the official academy, I was to be killed the day the dark forces found the base, but Namjoon pleaded his master, also Jungkook’s master at the time, to give me a chance to live and prove myself worthy, so that's how I met Namjoon and Jungkook, Jungkook was still so young at the time, time flew by so fast after we left, in a blink of an eye, he now has now his own pandawan,” Sejin says with a sigh, nostalgia heavy in her tone, but she seems happy about the way her life turned out too.

“Why did you and Namjoon leave?” you couldn't help but ask, sitting up straighter, engrossed in Sejin’s life story.

“I wanted a life beyond all this, I felt like growing up, from the moment I was abandoned at war, picked up by my old master and met Namjoon, I felt like all I did was training for something that I didn't feel passion for, Namjoon felt like he was doing it out of obligation as well, especially being the oldest one, he was expected to lead the New Order, but Jungkook took over instead when our old master died, he was always the one that's more passionate about leading the New Order, so Namjoon and I decided to leave, start a life for ourselves, to see the universe. So I understand if you have no desire to follow Jungkook’s footsteps, I've been at such a crossroad too, but I think he didn't receive the news all that well because maybe a part of him still feels like he was abandoned by Namjoon and I,” Sejin explained.

“I'm sorry you had to go through so much at such a young age,” you know how hard it is, having experienced it first hand, but you know she must've had it even harder, Jungkook treats you as an equal despite being his pandawan, but you're sure their old master, being someone of more traditional upbringing, couldn't have treated them as well.

“It's fine, it's been so long, I've moved on quite alright, but I just want to let you know, I'm here to offer you a chance to leave this all behind too, Namjoon and I never had any children, nor do we plan to, since we always move around in fear of being caught or killed, we talked and decided that if you ever want to live with us, we welcome you with open arms,” Sejin offers with sincerity in her eyes, you can see the moisture in them, and you know where she's coming from, she sees herself in your life story too.

“Thank you so much for giving me the chance to leave with you, but I can't leave Jungkook, my loyalties lie with him, he saved my life and I'll always be grateful to him, I can't imagine myself not being under his servitude,” you decline politely, if it wasn't Jungkook you would've taken up on her offer, but you don't have any aspirations other than protecting the one who saved you from your miserable life, even if he demands to have you killed, you wouldn't have any qualms.

“Jungkook saved my life, if he wants me to hand over my life for not following his footsteps, then that's a price I'm willing to pay,” you elaborate further before sighing, you've sealed your fate since the day you accepted his offer, and you always keep your word.

“Darling, he's not going to kill you for not taking over his place, if he wanted to kill you he would've done so long ago, I know I might be prying, but I feel like there's another reason for wanting to stay by his side, do you perhaps hold affection towards Jungkook?” Sejin asks with a knowing smile on her face, not a sliver of judgement, but you feel like you've been gobsmacked by the force in its entirety.

“I wouldn't even dare dream of such a thing, goodness,” you say with a weak chuckle, quickly distracting yourself with your drink, taking a quick sip, you would've downed the whole thing, but that would make you look ridiculous.

Thankfully the food has finally arrived, temporarily diverting both of your attention.

“I won't question you further, there are some things you need figuring out yourself,” she says before she plates some food onto your plate with a knowing smile on her face.

*I ran out of image limit so this is my new page break, sorry guys*

“I saw your pandawan leaving base all dressed up when I was on my way here,” Namjoon brings up midway through dinner at Jungkook’s chambers.

The man across from him immediately stops chewing on his steak, the force around them strumming in suspense, even without the force, they would've felt the hostility in the air even if they can't see the hardened expression on Jungkook’s face.

“Maybe it's just a friend,” Namjoon says offhandedly, and then Jungkook stiffens up, instantly he lets go of his hold on the force, but Namjoon is used to this sort of suffocation, he had to deal with teenage Jungkook after all.

“It doesn't matter,” Jungkook brushes off, resumes cutting his steak, but with a new sense of vigour, the knife scratching the surface of the plate.

“You can't lie to me, Jungkook, need I remind you we grew up together?” Namjoon teases, but he's still concerned, he's never seen his friend invested in something other than his work, “You need to tell her how you feel,” Namjoon advises, though he knows what Jungkook is thinking when he sees the clench of his jaw, and just as Namjoon predicted, Jungkook refutes immediately.

“That's my pandawan we’re talking about,” Jungkook deadpans, staring down at his long time friend.

“I know, just because I'm in my forties, doesn't mean I'm hard of hearing, and just because you're in your 30s, doesn't mean you're an old man, she's only in her 20s, that's not very far apart,” Namjoon explains, because he knows what Jungkook’s mindset is right now, he thinks he's too old for you.

“Don't be ridiculous, she's in her early twenties, she deserves someone her own age, not me,” Jungkook protests with an agitated sigh before he downs the rest of his whisky, the droid immediately refilling his glass, as dutiful as ever, but maybe out of fear too.

“Why are you so against the idea of being with your pandawan? She's an adult, what are you scared of? Definitely not what other people might say. Are you scared you might take advantage of her?” Namjoon retorts to elicit a reaction out of Jungkook, and it's instant.

“I would cut off my own arm before I would even think of doing anything without her permission,” Jungkook says with the force omitting from Jungkook’s body in waves, the droid at the side quietly scoots away from his previous spot closer to Jungkook.

“Then why are you so against the idea of being romantically involved with her?” Namjoon questions with a gentle tone, he's gotten his point across, he doesn't need to press further, Jungkook is in denial, but nowhere near dumb, he just wanted to know why his dear friend is torturing himself by denying his own feelings, but if he won't tell him now, he'll just have to try his best to pry later.

*page break*

The forest stands intimidating as the winds howl and the trees waver under its force, the sound of leaves rustling a familiar tune for Jungkook and Namjoon.

“Can't believe we didn't do this the last time you came back,” Jungkook says as he watches the scenery with a fond nostalgia.

“Didn't know you'd still fancy hunting this much, after so many years of being the Dark Lord,” Namjoon muses with a shake of his head, but he'd ought to know better, Jungkook always had a sense of childlike adventure and a hunger for a challenge, it's why he enjoys what he does.

“Hunting creatures sometimes trains my wits more than hunting people, people are getting more stupid by the day,” Jungkook says before he orders a trooper to open the weapon crate, “Weapon of choice? I'll let you pick since you're my hyung,” Jungkook says before he walks aside to let Namjoon take a look.

Namjoon digs around, uninterested, until he finds a rod shaped weapon, with a click of a button, it unfolds itself into a spear.

“Always have an eye for the unconventional ones,” Jungkook mutters but laments, picking up another spear from the crate.

“That's what makes things fun, Jungkook, gotta keep you on your toes, that's what I'm here for on this boring planet,” Namjoon says before he takes off into the forest, the familiar scent of the trees greeting him like a warm hug.

The sun is nowhere near setting, but in this forest, the rays are blocked by the thick trees overhead. However, Jungkook isn't worried about the darkness, he's trained to see through the force instead of his vision, the force to users as skilled as Jungkook, is like touching the fabric of existence, able to map out every obstacle around him like a physical map.

He hasn't gone hunting ever since the last time he did it with Namjoon, but the forest doesn't feel the same since then, it's too empty. Jungkook hasn't felt a creature other than some bugs for miles, which is an odd occurrence for a forest that he knows is abundant with wildlife.

Something feels terribly off, and he hates that feeling, especially when it's happening on home base.

Instead of trekking for animals, he's now feeling the force for Namjoons's whereabouts, but he must've walked further away from him to have a better chance of higher numbers, he isn't on Jungkook’s radar anymore, and communication doesn’t work in this forest, they did agree to meet back out in an hour's time, but his gut tells him to not dwell.

Suddenly, he feels footsteps, lots of them, then he registers it, a stampede, and it's coming his way.

Creatures he's all too familiar with, even the more ferocious ones, are chasing the tail of some small creatures, but not as predators, because Jungkook can sense the fear in all the creatures in the stampede.

Jungkook immediately summons the force to jump onto a high branch, perched on a higher ground to observe what's happening below, he still can't see nor feel the creature that caused this stampede, but he knows it must be ragesome for it to trigger a stampede in the forest, and he has a sinking feeling that it isn't native.

Then he feels it, a thrumming in the force, a disturbance, but a familiar strum has Jungkook on alert, Namjoon is close, but he's miffed by the fact that both the creature and Namjoons's presence are ascending his way simultaneously.

By now Jungkook doesn't need to use the force to keep track of the creature, the whole forest is shaking from the weight of its heavy footfalls.

Lo and behold, there he sees it, a green 10 feet tall reptile on all fours, huffing and shaking its head, clung onto his neck is no other than Namjoon himself, trying his hardest to hold on for his life while he tries to stab the creature with the spear that acts more like a sharp stick against this monster.

Jungkook has no idea where this creature came from or why his hyung is on its back, but he's damn sure he isn't going to let Namjoon die in the jaws of this monster.

“Joon! Get off its back!” Jungkook shouts from the top of his lungs, getting the attention of his hyung, thankfully, he heard him or felt his intentions through the force, and so he leaps off its back to the side, rolling to safety.

Jungkook descends from his spot from the branch, summoning the force to cease the creature in its tracks by exuding pressure in front of it, acting as a temporary barrier.

The creature’s weight has Jungkook skidding back a few steps, shaking its head, confused as to why there's something in its way despite not seeing any physical obstacle, but then its eyes zero in on Jungkook’s figure a few feet away, and with a mighty roar that showcases its sharp teeth, it decides to pounce on Jungkook, but Jungkook once again stops it with his force before he wields his lightsaber purely with the force, calling it from where he laid it out for safekeeping right outside the forest, thankfully they've moved closer to the forest clearing, Jungkook was planning on ending it once and for all by plunging the weapon into its throat, however, the creature had unfortunately caught sight of Jungkook’s lightsaber, and with a swish of its tail, albeit with a wail of pain from the burn of the saber, the lightsaber is smashed to pieces, distracted by his prized weapon destroyed right in front of his eyes, Jungkook was was nearly bitten by the creature if Namjoon hadn't used the force to pull him out of the way.

“Fuck, did you bring your lightsaber?” Jungkook asks.

“No, I didn't expect we'd come across anything that needed one,” Namjoon says before he advances onto the monster once again, with the spear in hand, he leaps onto the monster’s neck once more, angering it.

“Try to strike its eyes out!” Namjoon suggests, and with a sigh, Jungkook follows suit, trying his best to balance with the aid of the force, Jungkook tries to get the spear into its throat, but the reptile's strong scales wouldn't budge, protecting itself like an armour.

“The spear isn't strong enough to penetrate its scales, if we blind it, we might be able to find its weak spot on its underbelly,” Namjoon informs Jungkook, to which the latter nods, trying his best to weaken its sight, but things prove to be tough since the monster is trying its hardest to shake them off like they're merely pesky flies.

Jungkook hopes they'll get out of this alive.

*page break*

An insistent throbbing in the back of your head rouses you from your nap, immediately you can tell something’s wrong, and that something being Jungkook, you're not sure how it works, but having a force bond with someone is like an invisible string, and the throbbing at the back of your head is similar to a thread being yanked on, beckoning you for help, even if the person in danger didn't specifically asked for you.

You quickly get dressed and grab your hoverboard, you shouldn't be riding it in hallways, but the route from your unit to Jungkook’s unit is quite near, some staff did give you the side eye, but you needed to be quick.

“Droid, where's Lord Jungkook?” you ask the droid standing guard as you skid to a stop in front of Jungkook’s unit.

“Lord Jungkook has went hunting with Lord Kim in the forest, miss, would you like to schedule an appointment to meet with Lord Jungkook after he comes back?” the droid asks, but you have taken off in a haste once you knew of his location.

After zooming through the hallways with many apologies given, you finally reach the entrance of the forest, and gathered around an empty clearing are five storm troopers.

“Lord Jungkook is in danger, I need all of you to follow me into the forest,” you ordered, all of them scrambled to their feet, but the leader, the one with a red graphic print on their shoulder pad remains seated.

“With all due respect, miss, but we were ordered to await Lord Jungkook’s arrival back from the forest, and given Lord Jungkook’s capabilities, I doubt he is in any danger,” they dismissed.

“Are you questioning my authority and capability of wielding the power of the force?!” you question with a flick of your wrist, the trooper is being tossed high up into the air, screaming on top of their lungs before they begin apologising and pleading for your forgiveness.

“Miss, look, there's birds flying out in flocks from that direction,” another trooper informs you, so you quickly let the trooper down and hop on your hoverboard.

“I sent all of you my tracking so you can follow my lead, call backup as well,” you say before taking off into the direction of where the commotion was at.

You've been in the forest many times to train alone, but you've never delved into the thick of it like this before, where the trees are more dense from one another.

You try feeling your way through the forest as well as following Jungkook’s energy force like a beacon, but one thing for sure, there's definitely something that doesn't belong in the forest, you can sense its immense size sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other creatures.

When you reach a clearing, you see the monster in its entirety, its eyes blazing, mad that Jungkook and Lord Kim are trying their best to deter it in its path by blocking its vision, though, you can tell they're trying their best to injure it.

“Jungkook get out of the way!” you shout from the top of your lungs as you summon your knives, the knives flying through the air with the power of your force, Jungkook dodges right before the knives are impaled into its left eye, roaring at the pain, and also distracted, you used this chance to take it down, your lightsaber alight before you took off, summoning the force to give you a boost to your jump, stabbing the lightsaber into its neck before you let the force of gravity do its thing, slicing its neck all the way down.

You jump back when the blood of the creature starts to spray out in jets, but in doing so, you miss the snap of its jaw, you feel a familiar hand reach out to grab you before the creature could have your life one last time, you were pushed away, a loud curse reaches your ear, you look back to see Jungkook throwing a spear with all his might into the monsters jaw, the creature whimpers at the unexpected pain, before it finally succumbs to its injuries, falling to the side lifelessly.

With a sigh of relief, you quickly turn to Jungkook, but your blood runs cold at the sight, his back has obvious scratch marks from the creature's teeth and his clothes are drenched in his blood.

“Jungkook!” you call with a wretched sob before the man before you sways, you quickly catch him before he falls, his whole weight crashing onto you.

Then you hear the troopers, most of them bought weapons but thankfully one of them thought of bringing a stretcher, better late than never at least, you thought with a sigh.

Lord Kim calls out your name before offering you help in manoeuvring Jungkook onto the stretcher.

“Jungkook’s going to be fine, he's seen worse, let's hurry back to get you checked out as well,” Lord Kim says as he checks you for any obvious injuries.

“Thank you, Lord Kim,” you say with a bow, but he quickly dismisses you and tells you to call him by his name as well, just like his wife.

You can’t help but worry when you watch the many different machines scanning him and tending to his wounds, you can’t help the pangs of aches in your heart when the sight of his old battle scars meets your eyes.

“You’ve been overlooking the droids for a long time now, darling, the next procedure’s going to be more invasive, how about we let the droids work in privacy?” Sejin says, and immediately the droids start undressing Jungkook more, so you quickly agree and make a turn to leave Jungkook’s room in a haste.

“You need to get some rest yourself, darling, you can visit him after the droids are done,” Sejin says, and you agree, you do feel tired after all that’s happened.

*page break*

A groan leaves Jungkook when he rouses, a slight ache settling into his body, nothing out of the ordinary, but what he didn’t expect was the weight that he feels on the area of his wrist, he cracks opens his eyes and he sees you, asleep, bent over with your arms folded as a makeshift pillow, then everything comes rushing over him, the beast, you swooping in to help him and Namjoon fight it off, and him getting hurt because of saving you.

Jungkook sighs to himself at the reminder of that memory, he can’t avoid you any longer, it’s not professional nor it is healthy for the two of you moving forward by putting a strain on your relationship this way, but he can’t help but be pissed that you almost got hurt again, but he knows he and Namjoon would’ve struggled to take down that monster by themselves.

Jungkook sees you stir just as the force bond tingles at the back of his neck.

You jolt awake at the sight of Jungkook awake and staring at you with those intense eyes of his, and so you did the thing you rarely ever do, bolting.

“I’m gonna go inform Lord and Lady Kim,” you mutter in one breath and leave before Jungkook could say anything to you.

Jungkook sighs before he hears a droid coming to him to rattle off his vitals, he begrudgingly leaves the comfort of his bed to wash up, and when he comes out, Namjoon and Sejin are seated on his living room sofa.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” Namjoon teases before he engulfs his friend into a bone crushing hug, a hand patting his back a little too hard, but Jungkook’s used to it by now.

“How long was I out?” Jungkook asks when his friend finally pulls away.

“About two days, silly girl didn’t leave your side ever since you laid on that bed,” Namjoon informs, and that’s when Jungkook notices it.

His home is usually very neat, he’s what most people call a neat freak, but now there’s things scattered around, a practice stick laying on the ground, a book of his on the coffee table with a bookmark shoved in haphazardly, and some of his photo frames misplaced, and scarily enough, he doesn’t feel an ounce of irritation.

“Poor girl didn’t leave your bedside, worried to death,” Sejin pipes up with a glint in her eyes, she knows the topic about the two of you can’t be avoided at this point.

“You should’ve told her I was going to be fine and to get back to her own life,” Jungkook says with a sigh, thinking about how you were cooped up here for almost 3 days.

“You think we didn’t try telling her that? She didn’t listen, as stubborn as you are, unsurprisingly, but that’s what you saw in her isn’t it?” Namjoon teases and Jungkook turns away to his shelf, seemingly arranging his things, but he’s just looking at what you browsed according to the movement of his things.

“That’s what I saw in her as my pandawan,” Jungkook clarifies but he hears Sejin’s snicker.

Jungkook lifts up a snowglobe of some sort from his collection of random things from his endeavours before he abruptly slams it down when he hears both of his friends now blatantly laughing at him.

“Are the two of you here to inquire about my health or gossip about me in front of my face?” Jungkook questions, turning back to face his friends with a scorned expression, he’s not used to people blatantly going against him this way.

“Oh come on, Jungkook, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity to get my lick back for all the years you teased me about Sejin,” Namjoon jokes.

Jungkook curses at his teenage self for not shutting up, with a roll of his eyes, he plops down on the couch with a huff, and suddenly, Jungkook looks so much like his younger self to the couple.

“Cut him some slack, love, I wasn’t your pandawan, so things do seem more complicated, but these are just surface things, Jungkook ah, if you have no bad intentions then what’s stopping you? If anything happens, you’ll regret having not been loved or have loved someone, trust me, Namjoon and I, we’ve been in tight situations before we left all this behind, and in that moment, I had no regrets because I had a fulfilled life loving and being loved by Namjoon, but I understand why you’re hesitant, since you’re all good and up on your feet, we’ll leave you to continue resting up, we’ll come by tomorrow again,” Sejin says, tugging a very confused Namjoon on his feet.

“Let the poor boy figure things out, he’s just woken up and now he’s clouded by all these emotions,” he hears Sejin say under her breath to Namjoon, but Jungkook doesn’t hear what Namjoon says, nor does he bother to correct Sejin that he’s no longer the boy that she used to watch over with Namjoon but in fact a grown man in his 30s.

After his friends’ departure, Jungkook sits in silence in his own unit, ‘are you not coming back to check up on him?’, he wonders with a displeased sigh.

When it gets late to the point where he knows you’re most probably asleep, he gives up waiting on you. Jungkook’s eyes land on a bracelet he’s never seen before when he heads to bed, sitting idly on his nightstand, ‘did his droids find this when they were cleaning his room during his brief coma?’ he wonders to himself, but he doesn’t remember any of his past conquests wearing anything of this sort, but to be fair, he doesn’t remember much about them, if anything arises his suspicions, he’ll just check the cameras in his home, he brushes the bracelet off, he’ll just drop it off lost and found tomorrow, he decides before letting sleep consume him once more.

But not long after he fell asleep, at least according to the clock on his bedside, he hears rustling coming from his living room, he immediately jerks awake at the realisation, summoning the force, the spare lightsaber he owns flying into his outstretched arm before he creeps into his own living room.

His eyes lock in on a familiar figure and now that he’s more awake, he can sense it’s you just by the bond.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Jungkook questions while he lowers his weapon, letting his guard back down.

You turn around with a surprise gasp from your hunched position over his couch, seemingly searching for something before he caught you like a deer in headlights.

“I realised a bracelet of mine is missing, it was gifted to me by Lady Kim and I’m having breakfast with her tomorrow, so I had to come back to look for it or it’d seem rude to show up without it,” you explain in one frantic breath, standing a little too straight for comfort now.

“You could’ve come to get it earlier,” Jungkook deadpans, arms folded over his chest with a sigh.

“Well. I didn’t want to disturb you, and Lord and Lady Kim were over, so I didn’t want to intrude,” you say, but both of you know that’s not the main reason.

“The droids picked up your bracelet, it’s in my room,” Jungkook says, turning back to the direction of his bedroom, silently beckoning you to follow him, which you do.

Then you see the familiar glint of the beads on his nightstand that you had familiarised yourself with the past few days.

Jungkook takes a seat on his bed before he retrieves the bracelet from his nightstand, beckoning you over with a flick of his wrist, and so you move to stand before him, gently, he grasps your non-dominant hand in his before he slides the bracelet back onto your wrist.

“Take a seat, I’m not here to discipline you,” Jungkook says before patting the spot on the bed next to him.

“We need to have a talk about how you’re constantly putting yourself in danger for me, but in short, stop doing that, don’t risk your life for me,” Jungkook says curtly, keeping things straight to the point.

“Why are you acting like I’m the one who got hurt?” you retorted, but before Jungkook could remind you of what happened, you beat him to it, you have a fast mouth on you, that Jungkook acknowledges.

“I get it, you saved me, but if I wasn’t there, that monster might’ve hurt you or Lord Kim like really badly, just because you’re my master, doesn’t mean you’re invincible,” you reasoned, and Jungkook equally loves and hates this part of you, the way you stand up to him with little to no fear, he doesn’t have many equals in this position other than Namjoon and Sejin, but unfortunately for you, this is what keeps Jungkook on his toes and also the reason his temper fires up.

“I’m not invincible, but you’re not either!” Jungkook retrots, his voice booming in his spacious unit, his eyes ablaze, chest heaving. Jungkook rarely ever raises his voice, if he’s mad at someone for a failed task, he’d merely dispose of them, which is why he’s bad at controlling his emotions around you, he’s never needed to keep himself in check and this doesn’t help the fact that you’re a hot headed person yourself too.

“You don’t get it do you? I don’t want you to risk your life for me!” Jungkook’s so agitated to the point where he’s stood up now, a hand running through his hair.

“We’re all risking our lives for this cause anyway, what’s the difference between me and you?! Why are you ‘allowed’ to get hurt for this cause but I’m not?! Wh-

“Because I can’t stand to see you hurt!”

“What’s the difference between me and all the other millions of people under you?!”

Hearing your outburst, Jungkook walks away with a shake of his head, going to that planet and insisting on wiping out your old master and the rest of his pandawans turned his life over like a snowglobe, and he doesn’t know if it’s for the better when the snowstorm in his head is still raging.

“Don’t make me say it,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, defeated almost, something you’d never thought you’d ever describe Jungkook as.

“Cherishing someone isn’t a sign of weakness, Jungkook,” you lament with a sigh, if this was your bed you would’ve crashed onto it, reasoning with Jungkook is such a mental turmoil.

“It’s wrong if it goes beyond the limit,” Jungkook says, throwing his hands up, very much exasperated, and the sight of you seemingly so calm and collected just pisses him off more.

“What limit, Jungkook?! You’re backing yourself into this non-existent wall for no goddamn reason-

“Because I have feelings for you!” Jungkook bellows, his facial muscles strained to the point where you think he might actually self-combust, then in a flash, you’re being thrown backwards onto Jungkook’s bed, the wind knocked out of you, distantly you can hear Jungkook’s furniture and knick knacks in his room falling over in quick thumps and numerous shatters of glass.

“Fuck,” you hear Jungkook curse before he comes rushing over to you, his worried face coming into view.

“I’m fine, not hurt,” you say before Jungkook helps you sit up from his bed.

“I had no idea having feelings for me is such an agonising experience to the point where you’d have such an explosive reaction,” you mutter bitterly as you sit up from Jungkook’s bed.

“It’s agonising because it’s not right, not because of you,” Jungkook says in a disheartened tone, looking away from you, head hanging low in the glow of his lamp in the corner.

“You’re big bad Dark Lord and you’re scared about what people say behind your back?!” you question with full offence, head whipped to the direction of the pathetic man you’d looked up to for so long, he tenses up at your accusation, and he turns to face you in an instant, his venomous eyes piercing into yours.

“If someone even dares to speak ill of me or you, they’ll regret it in their last dying breath,” Jungkook warns with a slight growl, and to your dismay, it sends a chill down your spine.

“Then what’s your damn issue? Don’t tell me you suddenly have a moral high ground, you kill and torture, but you’re not willing to touch your pandawan?!” you shout in his face before you could register to filter that damn primal part of yourself.

“It’s because I’m so much older you, god damnit!” Jungkook retorts, hands flailing, you’ve never seen him so out of his damn mind, and it kind of feeds into your ego that you can make the most powerful man in the universe crumble this way.

“So what? I’m an adult, now and back when we met,” you say a little calmly for Jungkook’s liking, like he’s pathetic for having all these valid concerns.

“I could be your father at this age of mine,” Jungkook mutters dejectedly.

“Maybe boys my age are of no interest to me, have you thought about that?” you fire back, and Jungkook looks at you like you just said the most scandalised thing he’s ever said, you hate it when he babies you like a child, you have made no reckless decision ever since you came here, your most reckless being hurling a giant rock at Jungkook, not that it matters, it got his attention, and now you have him at your feet.

Suddenly, you feel yourself taken over by a crazy amount of confidence, something must’ve possessed you for you to have the courage to walk over to him, and grasp his face in your hands, the way your dainty fingers envelope his sharp features is a sight you won’t be able to forget, but it’s the way his doe eyes get lost in yours is what made your breath hitch, so you swallow the lump in your throat, the power exchange is borderline addictive, yes, Jungkook is slightly more vulnerable at this moment than you’ve ever seen him, but admitting your feelings to him, your heart on your sleeve for his taking in itself is a form of submission, especially for someone as headstrong as you, and you prove your assumptions true when suddenly his eyes sharpen, piercing into your soul like daggers.

“If you want this, I need to know that you’re mine and I’m yours alone,” he says, his voice tense, as if just the thought of you being with someone else sets off his temper.

“I’m yours for the taking,” you say before you finally seal your lips with his, along with your fate.

*page break*

Celebrations are in full swing after Jungkook led everyone to a victorious conquer of yet another galaxy, but that didn’t come easily, some troopers had sacrificed their lives, many injured, you didn’t get out without a few gashes and many bruises too, but what hurt the most were your ears after being lectured by Jungkook for getting hurt, which is ironic, because he had himself battered up too, you didn’t even bat an eye, just patching him up diligently every single time.

Though now, you hold no grudge against him for that, not when he’s having his big day now, which is why you’re dolled up for the night, well, it’s nothing considered too fancy as compared of the many flamboyant outfits you’ve seen the noblewomen adorn day in and out, but it is however, considered dressing up for you, in a glittery dress that shows off your silhouette.

Eyes trace your figure when you make your way through the hall where the celebratory dinner is held, all the way until Jungkook notices you, then the eyes on you, which were quickly diverted when they catch the scowl on his face, but it was quickly wiped off his face when he greets you.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Jungkook whispers to you when you take your seat next to him, eyes discreetly looking over at what he can see of your dress from this angle.

“You don’t look too bad yourself too,” you say instantly, holding your tongue on how you love it when he tight fitted formal attire like these, unfortunately, still black, but it’s almost impossible to convince the man to wear any other colour, but purple does make an appearance once in a while, he has almost ten purple shirts in his closet, and yes, you went through his closet just to see if everything was black to confirm your suspicions.

“Thank you, darling,” Jungkook drawls with one more greedy glance at your appearance before he goes back to people watching, observing who would most likely walk up to him next to talk now that you’re in his presence, everyone wants to know more about the apple of Jungkook’s eye, no one had expected Jungkook, with the temper he has going on, would ever be patient enough to teach someone, especially someone from enemy lines.

“Lord Jungkook, congratulations on the success of your last excursion, achieving great things alongside your pandawan I can see,” Lord Bautinite says, a didynon who’s older than the both of you combined says, but instead of addressing Jungkook properly, the old man is staring at you with his big bug eyes that Jungkook’s holding back the urge to poke out.

“Lord Jungkook did most of the heavy lifting, Lord Bautitine, but thank you for your confidence in my capabilities, I’m merely doing my best to support Lord Jungkook on the field,” you say, always humble, Jungkook lost count on the many times you watched his back for him and patched him up, he wouldn’t have successfully conquered that galaxy if you weren’t there.

“What a humble pandawan you got yourself, Jungkook, have you thought about who to arrange her marriage to?” Lord Bautitine asks with a hopeful glint in his eye that has your temper flaring up, but no one else would feel but Jungkook, due to the force bond between you and Jungkook that has gotten even stronger because your relationship with Jungkook exceeds the depth of a normal master-pandawan relationship, the two of you could feel every change and flicker of emotion no matter how brief and how far the two of you are physically. Jungkook doesn’t expect you to lash out though, you never do, you’re the opposite of Jungkook, Jungkook lets his anger be known by everyone, but you could be feeling even angrier than Jungkook about a situation but your face would give nothing away.

“My pandawan is a grown adult who’s capable of making her own decisions, I have no desire to arrange a marriage for her, she’s free to choose who she wants to be with or to stay single,” Jungkook answers without a second of hesitation, he knows this question would come up sooner or later.

“I have no desire for marriage in the near future, Lord Bautitine, for now my passion lies in serving The New Order only,” you reply with a smile plastered on your face while your temper continues to flare up the force, Jungkook doesn’t know how you do it.

“It’d be a pity to lose such a useful worker to marriage so soon, though I’m sure she will still dedicate a lot her time in her work, I might not be very lenient on her partner if they ever get in the way of her and her work though,” Jungkook says, an indirect warning that underlies the meaning of fuck off.

“Why yes, I hope you find someone who respects your boundaries one day,” Lord Bautitine says to you before he quickly excuses himself to speak to someone else passing by.

“It’s insane how well you manage to compose your anger,” Jungkook says with an amused shake of his head, he was trying so hard not to kill him, but he knows Lord Bautitine has influence in the local economy here, it’d be messy to kill him off.

“I’m surprised you’re getting better at managing your anger too,” you have to give tens where tens are due.

“If he had laid a hand on you he would be dead by now,” Jungkook says casually before taking a swig of his drink, smiling over the rim of his glass when he sees you laugh and your anger fizzling out, but soon, there’s more people to meet, only excusing yourself when the next course rolls out, you don’t mind socialising with Jungkook, but you would never compromise for food and Jungkook respects that.

Deeper into the night, you excuse yourself and leaving Jungkook to his own devices, Jungkook knows your social battery has a limit and he has no desire to drag you around talking to dickheads anyways, it’s normal for you to retire earlier when there’s events like these, and if anyone dares to question Jungkook about your loyalties and hard work, Jungkook allows his displeasure to be known in the most brutal way possible.

*page break*

When Jungkook finally retires to his own quarters, he breathes a sigh of relief when he takes in the comfort of his abode that once felt empty to him, most days you slept over, you practically live here, and so Jungkook’s home now has bright pops of colours, cute cushions from the market, your cup on the kitchen island, and the many jewellery you have lying around here and there that Jungkook bought many of, he reminds himself that this is what he’s doing for, staying in power means he has the means to keep you safe, Jungkook reminds himself as he quietly peels away his clothes to hop in the shower for a quick rinse before joining you in bed, a cute bundle between his sheets.

However, to his surprise, the cute bundle between his sheets is now laying on his bed, your smooth legs posed enticingly, kicking the air lightly while your bum takes the spotlight, the giant red bow sitting prettily at the dip of your back catching Jungkook’s attention instantly.

“What do we have here? Thought you were fast asleep,” Jungkook questions as he rounds his bed with quick strides, tossing his towel aside when he deems his hair dry enough.

“I was, but I heard you in the shower,” you’ve always been a light sleeper from years of being on the run, Jungkook sighs when he remembers that fact, he’s so glad he had that old man die a painful death for what he put you through.

“Aren’t you tired? You didn’t have to do all this for me, having the pleasure to hold you close is enough of a blessing,” Jungkook says as he slides into bed next to you, his nose immediately goes to the juncture of your neck, inhaling your scent mixed with his shower gel, tickling you in the process, his chest blooming at the sound of your sweet giggle.

“Missed you, you’ve been so busy, you deserve a reward too, for all your hard work in the order,” you say before you lead his face to yours, capturing his lips with yours, your hand tangling into his hair, your breath hitching when you feel Jungkook manoeuvre you atop of his lap, he wants you as close as possible after being apart for so long, it’s been only 4 hours max, but Jungkook is a fiend for your presence.

When Jungkook could tell you were getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, he pulled away, his eyes immediately trained on the way your eyes had glossed out, lost in the kiss the two of you shared.

“Gorgeous,” Jungkook praises under his breath as he brushes your hair back from your face, taking the sight of you in, he's the luckiest man in this universe, and it's not because of the empire he has, but because of you.

“You mentioned a reward just now, darling,” Jungkook reminds you, with his thumb holding your chin in place, he knows that such a simple gesture has your panties slicking up, always a menace in riling you up.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you emphasise with a roll of your hips, Jungkook’s length twitching at the action, impatient to be inside of you, “but first, how about dessert?” you ask before lightly pushing Jungkook to lay on his back, an amused huff leaving his lips.

“It's like you read my mind, sweetheart,” Jungkook says as he bunches up your nightgown, surprised but very much happy to find that you had forgone panties tonight, “don't hold back, I want your entire weight on my face,” Jungkook demands, knowing that you have the tendency to hover over his face instead of giving him the full meal.

You sigh at your lover’s insistence, so instead of replying him, you take your seat, successfully shutting up and satisfying him, obvious by the groan he emits once he gets the first taste of you, groaning into your core, the vibrations and his tongue have you gasping for air, quickly holding onto the headboard for your dear life.

Jungkook has always been straight to the point in all aspects of his life, which is why he immediately dives his tongue deep inside, the action messes your balance while you curse from the sudden shocks of pleasure, Jungkook, being the observant lover he is, immediately notices and stables you with a palm on one of your cheeks, taking the chance to grab a handful of you, making you squeak at the pinch of his fingers.

Jungkook smiles against your flesh, and to level up a notch, he then frees his other hand from where it was wrapped around your calf to where your bundle of nerves reside, drawing quick circles, timing them perfectly with the thrust of his tongue that has you gasping his name breathlessly between moans.

Jungkook could sense you were getting closer when you started grinding down to meet his tongue, he could sense the beating of your heart quickening, and lets you do as you please, eyes wide open as he takes in the beautiful, but slightly obstructed sight of you chasing your own pleasure with his face, you being rightfully in your place, Jungkook might as well be the king of this universe, but you are the queen of his world, and a queen deserves the rightful place of a throne, and what better throne than Jungkook himself?

When you finally reach your high, Jungkook rolls your hips for you, helping you ride out your orgasm while stabling you atop of him as you convulse, your knuckles whiten as you let yourself be overtaken by the pleasure coursing through your body, completely undone by Jungkook’s expert hand and mouth, you can feel that he's drinking you in, trying his best to collect your sweet nectar with his tongue, you had to remove yourself on your shaky legs in order for him to give up, chest heaving as your gather your bearings, laying on the bed next to Jungkook.

But soon the man has other plans than letting you rest, Jungkook having an almost wicked smile on his face.

“I can't feel my legs yet, how about I let you use my mouth as an interlude,” you joke, which gets a laugh out of Jungkook.

“It's fine, I can do the heavy lifting first,” Jungkook dismisses before he wraps your legs around his waist, moving you about like a doll before he bends down to place a short and sweet kiss on your lips, the gesture full of love in the midst of your throngs of passion, it never fails to bring a smile on your face when he does this.

Jungkook then leans back to focus on the task on hand, grasping himself, his cock almost painfully hard from enduring through hearing your pleasure, but Jungkook enjoys hearing the way you react to him without any distractions, he's a patient man when it comes to you, well to a certain degree, he thinks to himself as he pumps himself a few times before he finally positions himself at your slit, probing with his cockhead, teasing you, which earns him a few whines and a light thump of your leg on his back before he finally relents, sliding into your heat slowly, his brows furrowed as he focuses on the feeling of being engulfed by your warmth.

You tighten your legs around Jungkook’s waist when you feel the familiar addictive feeling of being filled up, nails digging into Jungkook’s arm.

“Doing so well for me, baby, always so wet for me,” you hear Jungkook say, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until he bottoms out, he hears you panting by his ear as he waits for you to adjust, and in the meantime he takes off your nightgown, letting his eyes wander, basking in on all your naked glory.

“We've been doing this for so many times, and yet you're still so entranced,” you comment as you watch the way his huge eyes trace every little bit of your skin.

“I'd never be bored of the sight of you, especially when you're on top of me,” Jungkook says as his hands join in on the mix, tracing every curve on your body, making you shiver from the featherlight touches.

“Thought I'd look best like this, under your mercy,” you joke, getting a chuckle out of Jungkook.

“You'll see why in a bit,” Jungkook comments before he gives an experimental thrust, your gasp of pleasure a telltale sign that you're ready for more.

Jungkook starts off with a mild pace before he hears you begging for him to go faster, your legs tightening around him as you fully immerse yourself in the pleasure you're receiving, your body tensing up with the overwhelming amount of pleasure running through your veins, especially when Jungkook lowered his head to capture one of your bosoms into his lips, sucking diligently as hips continue their unforgiving pace, never missing his target of the spot that has your head spinning.

“Close,” you gasp out when you feel the coil in your belly threatening to snap.

Jungkook ceases all movements before pulling out of you gently, he then manoeuvres you on top of him, taking your place on the bed.

“You wanted to know why I prefer the sight of you on top, this is why,” Jungkook says before tilting your head up to look at the mirror he had installed on his ceiling, and true to his words, the sight is a bewitching one, the way your body has a healthy glowy sheen from the exertion, and the way Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes trained on your reflection, the most powerful man in the universe, and his pleasure is at your mercy, and at that moment, you feel like you could strike even the most powerful entity down, Luke Skywalker be damned if he wasn't dead.

“Do you see what I see now? My queen, rightfully on her throne,” Jungkook says after he tips your head back down to stare into your eyes, he needs to get the idea in your head, it should be a crime that you had no idea of how powerful and mesmerising you look on top of him.

Instead of replying him with words, you smash your lips against his, pouring all your love out through it, you rarely initiate such an intense kiss, but soon you hand the reins over to Jungkook, even though you love having power over him, submitting to him is what you enjoy most in your love trysts.

A moan slips from your lips to his when he slips back inside you with a quick adjustment of his hand, the familiar fullness more than welcomed, and Jungkook then immediately sets a rigorous pace, thrusting in an upwards motion while his eyes look into yours, attention unfazed despite his hips working hard to tip the scales of your impending high.

Alas, at the end of the day, Jungkook is only a man, which is why he elicits a giggle out of you when you catch his eyes do a quick sweep of the bouncing motions of your breasts.

“You won't be laughing soon, my love,” Jungkook taunts before he lands a quick spank on one of your cheeks, the sweet tinge of pain nearly sending you over the edge, and seeing the damn smirk on Jungkook’s face, you know damn well he felt you clenching on him.

Jungkook then slows down his pace, switching to slower deeper thrusts that have you clawing his back with long thin marks that he would wear proudly for the days to come.

“I want you to cum, darling,” Jungkook breathes into your ear, sending a shudder running down your back, his voice quiet but still commanding, but what comes next is a surprise, something that merely agreed upon but Jungkook hadn't tested the waters until now.

Jungkook wraps a hand round your neck, not squeezing like you expected him to, but then you feel it, the way your throat constricts by the force lightly, cutting part of your airflow.

“Look up, sweetheart,” Jungkook demands, and you heed, staring at your own lust driven body, the light sheen of sweat making you shimmer under the artificial lights.

“Look at you, right where you belong, on your throne, is my cock treating you well, my Queen?” Jungkook taunts before he stops all airflow for a single second, and that's when you lose it, your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks, a curse stuck at the back of your throat because of Jungkook, but when he ceases control of your breathing, your mind blanks out from the all encompassing pleasure, your legs shake as you feel yourself cumming as if you can't stop, soiling the sheets as Jungkook whispers sweet nothings into your ear about how good you did, a hand slipped down to your clit to rub slow circles onto it to curb you to clench around him tighter before he spills into you with a groan. Jungkook then lays you down on the clean side of the bed, before he retrieves the box of tissues on his nightstand to clean you and himself up quickly, he doesn't want to make a mess on the way to the bathroom, he wants the droid to change the sheets then get out of his hair as soon as possible.

“Don't pull out yet,” you demand with a weakened grab of Jungkook’s arm to get his attention, just in case he can't hear you from how soft you are, Jungkook has you spent tonight if you're being honest.

“Anything for you, my love,” you hear Jungkook say with a kiss to your temple before you feel yourself succumb to sleep.

When you wake up from your much needed slumber, you let yourself some time to just feel and appreciate the fact that you're being held in the arms of the love of your life before extracting yourself from said arms, which is quite the feat when Jungkook is built with all muscles and almost zero fat percentage.

When you finally succeed in escaping his embrace, you sigh lovingly at how peaceful Jungkook looks in his sleep, none of that constant frown that he sports when he's awake and stressed about whatever task he needs to attend to, you think he even resembles a rabbit when he sleeps, all pouty lips and his nose twitching now and then, he's gonna throw a fit if he hears your thoughts now, he hates it when you call him cute, are you still going to do it? Absolutely, but for now, you're gonna let him rest up more.

You're still fresh from the bath Jungkook must've taken with you when you were asleep, so you quickly wash up and pad into the kitchen to get a warm cup of water for the both of you, settling Jungkook’s cup down on his side of the nightstand before you walk to the large floor to ceiling window of his bedroom that overlooks the beautiful garden within the base compound.

“You're gonna fall sick parading around naked in my home like this,” you hear Jungkook say before you turn your head to catch him just as bare as you before he retrieves a blanket from your reading nook armchair to drape around both of you, but you with the added layer of bulging muscles.

“This is considered warm for me, I've been through worse conditions, don't worry,” you say before Jungkook steals your cup out of your hands for a quick sip before putting it on the nearby bookshelf to wrap his arms around you once more.

“I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner,” Jungkook mutters as he snuggles his face into your neck, breathing you in, he loves it when you smell like his body wash.

“It's fine, I was just making a joke out of it, you know, no need to get all wound up over it for me,” you say as you reach back to brush through his hair gently.

“Still, I'm glad you're here, and that all those conditions didn't stop us from meeting. I love you so much,” Jungkook says while he wraps you round his arms even tighter than you thought possible, screw rabbit, he reminds you of one of those giant bone crushing serpents you dealt with in the past.

“I love you too, my love,” you say through staggered breath from how he's almost crushing you, but you let Jungkook enjoy this moment a little longer as you bask in his warmth embrace because all’s well that ends well to end up with Jungkook.

The End.

[practicalgauntlet]

Something Sweet

Synopsis- You and Spencer are stuck in the bullpen doing paperwork. Everyone else has left for home or gone out for a drink, what a perfect time for such a delicious meal.

Category- Smut

Key- (---) =POV change

Notes- Chubby!Reader, None of my stuff will ever include Hard Dom Spencer because I just don't believe that man is into anything super kinky like slapping his partner around, that being said this includes smut, touching, unprotected sex, sex on a desk, semi-public sex (because they do it out in the open but no one is around)blow jobs, heavy tension build-up, mutual pining, established flirting, body worshiping, Female reader (if anyone wants I can repost this with different genders but I am a female so I find it easier to write smut with female anatomy), early season spencer (1-6)

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The bullpen had long since been emptied, the last one to leave was your stoic boss with a tight-lipped 'good luck'. You had been nose-deep in the paperwork of your last case, the brutal story of a little boy and his dad, when you realized you were alone. Or so you thought you were.

There was a sense of unease witnessing such a busy place, usually rife with chaos and life, settle down for the night. The massive windows only further aided that feeling, with the cloud-shrouded, moonlit sky your only true beacon of light. But you were almost done, only a few pages left until you could hail a cab and be closer to the warm comfort of your bed.

However, if you wanted to finish the papers soon, you needed something to soothe the piercing ache in your stomach. When was the last time you ate? Oh, that's right, you went out with Emily and the girls for lunch. With a quick glance at your wristwatch, you grumbled at the time. It was now eleven-thirty, which made it roughly ten hours since you had last eaten.

You stand up from your desk, arms instinctively shooting high above your head to relieve the tension that clung to your back and shoulders. You couldn't help the way your eyes darted to the darkest corners of the room or the way you hovered your hand above your gun as you walked down the hall to the break room. The dark had always made you antsy, but after years of hunting the monsters that went bump in the night, you knew to be cautious.

When you turned the corner though, you saw the sterile white light of the breakroom illuminate the hall, banishing all thoughts of hidden dangers and bringing forth the fear of an intruder. Sure you couldn't be the only one in this building staying later to finish work, but you could have sworn you said goodbye to everyone. And after all those times this place had been infiltrated, you didn't hesitate to unclip your holster and slide your gun into your hands.

You didn't click off the safety though, the possibility of an innocent life was still high enough that you didn't want to risk anything. As you pressed yourself to the wall, adrenaline corsing through your blood, you slowly creep towards the breakroom.

It wasn't until you were at the open doorway, gun half raised for both possibilities, that you realized you weren’t the only agent burning the midnight oil. Spencer Reid was at the counter, his hands splayed on the counter on either side of the coffee pot he was yawning over.

"Jeeze, Spence." You murmured, you heartbeat still racing. It didn't help that Spencer had rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and forgone his usual sweater in favor of a white dress shirt. His hair was wild, like he had spent the past few hours running his hands through it. "You scared me."

"Sorry," He simply said, turning his head towards you. "Do you want a cup?"

If it'll keep him there, displayed for your greedy eyes; then yes. "I'd never say no coffee."

The tired smirk that flashed across his face made your knees weak. Even if he looked completely ran ragged, tired from the day and whatever paperwork you assumed he was staying late for, he still managed to send heat through your body.

You walk up to him, turning and leaning back against the counter to join him in watching the coffee pot slowly fill up. The two of you didn't talk at that time, only glancing at each other when the other wasn't looking.

"Did you know," Spencer started having reached his quota of tension filled silence. "In the eighteenth century, some governments tried to ban coffee because they thought it would encourage radical thinking."

"I did not know that." You chuckle, loving the way he turns his head to look at you. Spencer's big brown eyes seemed to swirl with emotion, something heady yet fragile.

The coffee machine beeps, startling the two of you out of your impromptu staring contest. Spencer goes about searching for your favorite mug, grabbing his along the way, and filling the two up. He dumps a shit load of sugar in his but leaves yours empty. "It's funny, in all the years we've known each other, I don't know how you take your coffee."

You grab the mug, body lighting up with excitement when you have to reach across Spencer to get to it. He doesn't move out of your way, only watching as your hand just barely brushes against his stomach.

"Depends on what mood I'm in." It wasn't until you heard your voice in your own ears that you notice the sultry tone to it.

Spencer leans in, not enough to count as a move but enough that you notice he was both infinitely closer than before and still miles apart from you. "And what mood are you in?"

Your breath escapes you, crawling out of your lungs and into the open air between the two of you. Your next words were no more than a whisper. "I'm in the mood for something sweet."

The smile that graced his face was something you had never seen Spencer wear. Especially not in a situation like this. It was confident, sure...heated. "Good to know."

Spencer said nothing else as he sipped from his mug and walked back to the bullpen.

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The next time you find yourself staying at headquarters later than the rest of the team, you weren't surprised to find Spencer still seated at his desk. And just like last time, Spencer had relaxed thoroughly at his desk. He was sporting his white dress shirt again only this time his tie hung on the back of his chair with his vest and he had unbuttoned the top two buttons.

You found it hard to focus on your work, what with Spencer just a few desks away from you. Instead of the last case and what you were supposed to write down regarding all that had transpired, you couldn't take your eyes away from the cut of his jaw. Or the column of his throat. Or the tone forearms he rested on the edge of his desk. The way his lips rapidly moved as he whispered to himself while his fingers swiftly trailed down the page.

You adjusted yourself in your seat, fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs and relieve yourself of the building pressure between your legs. In the emptiness of the bullpen, your movement echoed and drew the attention of Spencer. He looked up and smiled, not at all privy to your internal battle and rising blood pressure.

---

What you didn't know though, was that he was watching you from his peripheral; aware that your eyes were on him. He noticed you moving around as if you couldn't quite get comfortable, shifting back and forth in your chair every now and then.

When he looked up at you, your chair creaking loudly throughout the room, he had caught you. You swiftly look down, pretending to write something down while a blush crept up your cheeks.

Spencer didn't know what was going on between the two of you, it was something he had never experienced in his life. He knew all species were driven to find mates through different methods of appeal. What he didn't expect was to be affected by that natural urge to attract. When it came to you, he felt suave, confident, and appealing. Words and actions naturally bypass his strict filter and he became someone he'd never thought he'd become.

When you would look up at him with a bright smile, he could always tell what you were thinking. Especially once he caught your eyes darting to his lips. But he never felt good enough, not as he flirted back, not as he fantasized about what you would taste like on his tongue. No, Spencer Reid was a destined loser, fated to a life surrounded by only friends and family. Not a beautiful woman who'd allow him the great privilege of touch and pleasure.

Again, he found himself acting without thinking. He had waved you over, desperately needing to see your face more clearly, yearning to feel the warmth of your body next to his.

You slowly got up, hesitant at first but the closer you got the more confident your stride became. You sat at the desk in front of him and when you sat down your legs brushed against his. It sent a jolt through his body, igniting a flame that had slowly been stoked over time.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the only sound was pages being flipped. Spencer couldn't focus on his paperwork anymore, too engrossed in the way your leg kept brushing against his. It was like you wanted to torture him slowly; with every shift of your hips.

A couple times he peeked at you after your ankle knocked with his to see if you were doing it on purpose. But it seemed as if you put all your willpower into the paper before you. Spencer noticed that you hadn't moved on from that one page in the half hour you had sat next to him. Maybe you were just as affected by this as he was.

To test his theory, he sank a little lower in his seat, spreading his legs and taking up more room. You stiffened when he gently shifted his foot to touch yours, then the other. He gauges your reactions, forming a hypothesis as to why you were so wound up.

Taking it further, his work completely forgotten, Spencer straightened up and leaned forward. This drew your attention, pulling your eyes to his like the speed of light. "I think I'm in the mood for something sweet."

Spencer relished in the blush that he brought to your cheeks and knew he was right. You felt the same pull that he felt. You were riddled with the same yearning he was. He hummed with delight, standing up and holding his hand out for you. You took it hesitantly, curious as to what had taken over him.

Instead of taking you to the breakroom like you thought he was going to, he spun you around so that your ass was pressed against the edge of your desk. You gasped with surprise as Spencer leaned forward and blocked you in with his hands on either side of your hips. The man in question was surprised aswell, his actions skewing so far away from his intentions. But now that he had you in his grasp, your perfume clouding your mind, he couldn't stop himself as he leaned in.

Your lips were as soft as he imagined. The way his whole world turned upside down the moment his mouth was pressed to yours and his hands found purchase on your hips just so he could have something to hold on to.

His mind spun as his hands uncontrollably kneaded the soft flesh of your hips and waist. You pulled back, your breath fanning across his face as you greedily took in the air he stole from you. Spencer only allowed you a second or two before diving back in, tilting his head so he could access your mouth better.

It felt like his body was acting on pure instinct, every thought, every fact and statistic evading his mind. He was sure if someone asked him about anything other than the way you felt or tasted he would come up blank.

Spencer couldn't help the groan of delight as your hands flew to his chest, skirting up his shirt and landing on his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, drawing him deeper into the kiss as you cart your fingers through his hair.

If Spencer believed in heaven, this would be it.

---

Spencer had you pinned to the table, his hands roaming over your backside like he was trying to memorize the feel. In a split second three things happened. Spencer slotted himself between your legs, drawing his knee up and pressing his thigh against your throbbing cunt. The sudden and delicious friction had you gasping and Spencer took the opportunity to delve his tongue into your mouth. It took only half a second for your tongues to touch before the two of you let out a shuddering moan.

The sound rang out into the bullpen, echoing throughout the empty room and drawing the two of you back into reality. Spencer looked at you with wide eyes, like he had been acting solely on impulse. "Is," He cleared his throat, closing his eyes for just a second before leaning his forehead against yours. "Is this okay?"

You pull your hands out of his hair and down to his cheeks, cupping his face so he could look you in the eyes. "It's more than okay, Spence."

Again, he closed his eyes as if he were holding something back. The next time he spoke, his voice was ragged and strained. "You taste as sweet as I imagined."

You didn't like being so far away from him, so you pulled him back to you and met his eager mouth with yours. One of his hands trailed up your body, leaving a blazing path up your side. You felt his breath shudder once he reached your heavy breast, his hand at the edge of your ribcage as his thumb gently rested below your nipple.

"Can I-" He murmured against your lips and before he could even ask you've popped the buttons of your blouse.

Spencer pulls back to admire you, his deft fingers gently pulling the fabric away to expose your bra. In a bout of abnormal confidence, Spencer slips your blouse off your shoulders and unhooks the clip of your bra.

In the dim light of Spencer's desk lamp, you could see the caramel brown of his eyes taken completely over by his blown iris. He's blatantly staring at your tits, the cold air hitting your exposed skin and sending goosebumps over your arms.

"You're," He hums again, only this time it sounds like a broken, strangled groan. "You're so beautiful."

Before you could respond, Spencer grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you up on the desk. Not a moment later his mouth was enveloping your nipple. The wet heat of his mouth, of his tongue, on your skin was pure ecstasy. The way he swirled his tongue over your nipple before sucking the skin into his mouth.

His other hand came up and palmed your lonely breast, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipple to mimic his mouth. He kissed all across your chest, sucking on spots until you felt blood pool to the surface.

"Spence..." You sigh, loving the feel of him but needing his skin on yours, needing him to chase the chill that threatened to creep in. When he didn't let up, you pulled at his hair and brought his face close to yours. "Spence, take off your shirt."

The look on his face was adorable, with his eyes blown wide and dark, a goofy smile stretching his face as he looked at you like you were worth the world. "Yeah," That smile never left his face. He pulled away from you only far enough to undo the buttons of his dress shirt and slip the fabric off of his shoulders.

You pull him back to you, the heat of his skin as delicious as you needed it. He met you in the middle, your chest pressed against him as his mouth ravaged yours. Spencer shifted to get closer to you. In doing this, he pressed his hips into you and you felt the hard outline of his cock in his slacks.

You experimentally roll your hips, both desperate for friction and curious as to how he'd react. He hunched over, his body shaking around you, and groaned. You did it again and he tossed his head back, exposing the delicious column of his throat.

You wanted to mark him like he marked you, so you leaned forward and latched on. You kissed and sucked all over his neck and while you were distracted, Spencer grabbed your hips and pulled you back to him.

Over and over again, he thrust into you. With his hips growing more erratic, you pull away from his neck and take his face in your hands. "Spence, Spence, stop."

Immediately he jumped back, his face flushed and his breath ragged. " Did I do something wrong? I'm so sorry, I couldn't control myself."

He was too far, the open air of the bullpen nipping at your exposed skin. Instead of pulling him closer, you hop off the desk and peel off your skirt.

"You did nothing wrong, we just can't have you coming in your pants now can we?"

Spencer was watching your every move. His eyes tracked the way you hooked your thumbs into your waistband and slowly slid the skirt off for him. Thank god you chose comfort today, you didn't know how embarrassing it would be to try and seductively take off a pair of pantyhose.

You kicked off your shoes and stood before Spencer in just your panties. He was tense, hands opening and closing at his sides as he watched you with heavy lids. Half wanting to get him adjusted to the situation and half because you were dying to taste him, you drop to your knees in front of him and slide your hands up his thighs.

"This okay?" You ask, making sure his comfort is put above all else.

He reaches for your cheek, sliding his palm into your hair so he is holding your face at just the right angle. "More than okay."

You undo his button, then his zipper, slowly pulling down his pants in the process. Just because you were selfish and desperate, you shuck off his boxers along with his slacks and finally he was free.

His cock bobbed in front of you, pulsing with desire. It was hot to the touch as you wrapped your hand around the base, giving him a few experimental strokes. The noises he was already making were pure ecstasy and you hadn't even taken him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck-" Spencer groaned, his voice strained as you plant a little kiss on the head of his cock.

You flick your tongue out, tasting the salty precome that wept from the tip. Slowly, you wrapped your mouth around him, flattening your tongue so you could take him better.

Spencer let out a long, ragged groan as swirled your tongue over that sensitive little nerve under the head. His hands flew to your hair, gently pushing your head down and pulling you back before you could gag. You bobbed your head only three times before he was yanking you back and gripping the base of his cock.

"Hold on, hold on."

You look up at him, watching as he staves off his orgasm. You couldn't help but enjoy the sight. Spencer Reid, the passionate and seemingly innocent young Doctor was looking down at you with his cock in his hand.

You bit your lip at the sight, ready to devour him whole if he let you. Spencer closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before he pulled you up by your hand. He led you back to the desk, urging you to sit back on it. You oblige, excited to finally feel full of his cock. But when Spencer gets to his knees, you let out a whine of disappointment

"I want to return the favor." He said as he stared at your throbbing cunt like a starved man sat before a buffet. But you were ready, you needed him now.

You gently tugged on his hair until he was looking at you. "As much as I'd love for you to go down on me, Spence, I need you."

"I'm right here."

"No," You look at him pointedly, slipping your hand down your stomach so you can trail your fingers through your slick. " I need you. Please, Spence."

His eyes widened and he abruptly stood. "I don't, I don't have a condom."

You spread your legs, hoping the glistning of your need was enough to persuade him. "I'm on the pill, it's okay."

He let out another shuddering breath, his hands tentatively taking your legs and wrapping them around his back. With a hand on his cock, he aligns himself with you. Spencer didn't break eye contact as he slowly pushed in.

The stretch of him, the burn, was like nothing you've ever felt. A loud,, echoing moan wrenched itself out of you as he went deeper. He's still pushing in, pausing every now and then so the two of you can catch your breath. Once he bottomed out, his hips flush with yours, and he takes his hand to your cheek.

"You're so fucking beautiful."

Never in your life had you heard Spencer talk like this, so vulgar, so heated. He looked at you like you hung the very stars he studied. The two of you sit still for a moment, basking in his gaze and his cock and his body and everything that was Spencer Reid.

"You have to move, please, you have to move." You whisper, feeling that sudden, desperate need for him to take over once again.

"Right," He mutters, that goofy smile back on his face. It falls the moment he pulls back, keeping his cockhead inside before pushing back in.

Spencer's eyes are screwed shut as his thrusts pick up the pace. It was slow like molasses and built a different type of pressure than you were used to.

"I'm not going to last long, " He whispers, arms shaking from where they were braced by your head.

"That's okay, Spence, just let go."

You slide your hands between the two of you, your middle finger swirling across your clit to get yourself to come faster. You wanted nothing more than to become undone with him.

Spencer groaned in your ear, whispering sweet nothings as he kisses and sucks more hickies onto your neck. Once he notices your hand, he slaps it away and replaces your finger with his thumb.

It was a new sensation, his now positioning thrusts joining with the rough way he was treating your clit. You were ricocheted into an orgasm faster than ever before.

White hot pleasure flooded you as you curled into Spencer. Not a moment later you feel him settle as deep as he can and moan into your neck. Warmth is spread inside you, leaking out of your spent pussy and onto Spencer's cock.

It took the two of you a few minutes to gather your breath and remember who and where you were. Spencer was still on top of you, his softening cock slipping out as he pulled away.

That stupid, adorable, goofy smile didn't leave his face. Not as he helped you up, not as he littered your face with sweet peering kisses, not even as he watched you get dressed. You felt an ache deep within your facial muscles and realized you wore that same grin.

Spencer was still all over you, holding you close to him and kissing you wherever he could get his lips. "Can't I go down on you next time?"

"Next time?"

Spencer's face fell. "I mean, if you want a next time."

You chuckle and give him a quick peck on the cheek, not at all satisfied with him yet. "How about you come back to my place if you're still so eager?"