#some of the different is bad n some of it is just different

[realcube]

— BEST FRIEND! SUNA

desc ;; your best friend helps you update your nudes. tws & tags ;; nsfw mdni. vaginal, oral (m & f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, filming, slight hair pulling, begging, objectification, breeding, praise + degradation. part one.

after the initial shock dies down, suna empathises with your frustration about being blocked by a guy you actually liked, and understands why that event has led you to want to update your gallery of nudes.

he explains that there are three types of photo that anyone will be receptive to. with these three pics, you'll be able to make any guy your bitch.

the three types of picture are as follows:

1. SQUIRTING PIC

his face drops, "uh," he splutters, not anticipating pushback, "girls can't squirt.. with vibrators." he blinks. the lies were somehow becoming less and less believable, despite how they weren't very convincing to begin with.

"that's a shame." you bow your head in attempt to suppress a chortle at his ridicoulous claim. finally, you decide to give him what he wants, "would you please tongue fuck me, then, rinny?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"...sure."

"thank you." you smile up at him, innocently, and hum while motioning to his phone in his hand, "do you want me to take the picture since you'll be, uhm, busy?"

he shakes his head gently, and the words leave his mouth before his brain is able to fully process what's going on — he's still stuck on the part where you sent him your nudes. "it's fine. i'll just start videoing and put my phone.." he glances around his room, "here." as he hits the 'record' button and then props his phone up against the lamp on his bedside table. "then you can take screenshots from the part of the video you want."

you nod along with his explanation. however, the camera was behind suna currently, meaning that when he bends down between your legs, the back of his head would be blocking any parts of interest. thus, you inquire, "the thing is, when i finish, you'll be in the way. should we try a different position?"

"uh, i was just thinking you could just let me know when you're close and i'll move out the way." he offers up a simple solution.

"hm, alright." you shrug, twitching slightly as you watch suna get onto his knees near the edge of the bed. it was a sobering sight which made all this feel concerningly real. your best friend, who you've known since forever, was really about to eat you out. it all felt like some sort of hyper-realistic dream — if you thought about it too hard, you might wake up and this will all fade away, hence you refrained from doing so and wordlessly part your legs.

suna's hungry eyes lock onto your bare cunt; how soft your skin looks and the way your lips are already glistening with a thin layer of arousal. you're so perfect, it's like his whole life has been leading up to this moment; those other girls he's been with were just practise so he could fuck you right. his eyes fluttered close and his face drifted towards your pussy like a magnet to metal, until you interrupt:

"by the way, i've never squirted before — i don't even know if i can. so, erm, don't feel bad if i don't finish the way you expect. i can always just fake the pictures if i need to."

suna quirked an eyebrow, not daring to comment on your strange suggestion of falsifying a squirting pic. instead, he says monotonely, "you will. trust me, (y/n)." before you have time to respond, his lips are already connected to your cunt and sucking on sensitive clit, and thus an instinctive whine is forced from your open mouth.

it's easy to tell that he's done this before, and he's clearly a natural at it. one of his arms hook around your leg and presses it against his ear, while his other hand cups your pretty pussy; his thumb strokes at your folds, spreading them wide to allow his tongue access to the untouched parts of your sweet cunt. once he's done sloppily making out with your pussy, his tongue delves into your puckered hole, and his thumb trails upwards towards your clit, where he begins to rub and massage it while his tongue works your insides.

even then, his lips are still latched onto your skin and as his tongue is vigoursly pumping within your walls, slurping up your delicious juices from your entrance. your back arhces into his face, and your hands find their way into his already tousled hair. "hah- rinny, don't stop.." you were in love with the way he explored your insides, flicking at your walls trying to find that rough spot within you.

"mmh, won't." he murmurs against your pussy, the vibrations shooting electric sparks up your spine. he's lost himself in your addicting cunt; when his tongue isn't as far as he can reach in your hole, he's desperately lapping at your labia, greedily savouring your wetness.

"th— ank you, thank you!" you squeal, breath hitching as you can sense his tongue as finally located it — that gummy spot in your walls that makes your toes curl. and he takes full advantage of that once he realises. he'd roll his tongue upwards and aim straight for it whenever he'd dive back into your sopping hole, causing the coil in the pit of your stomach to tense whenever he does so. it wasn't easy to maneuver his tongue due to your unspeakable tightness, but his own saliva as lube made it easier.

"you taste.." he puctuates each word with a soft kiss on your clit, "s— so good." he melts into your pussy once more, sucking on and thrusting into your sore little hole. "mph, babe.."

"think— think 'm close.." with every lick and kiss he brings you closer to your climax.

"fuckin cum, then. n' make it loud." he mutters hoarsely, you can feel his words slither inside you. and soon enough, your coil snaps and your body stiffens in response to the wave of bliss that floods though you.

your first orgasm courtesy of your best friend was nothing short of perfect. due to your constricting pussy, he opts to use his thumb to stroke your clit in order to coax you through your full orgasm. also, so he could pull his face back from your cunt for just a moment and peer at your shivering frame and your bodily response during the high. and it was just as beautiful as he imagined: your back bowed into the perfect arch, as your glossy lips pull into a pout.

not to mention your addicting moans, "ahh— rin! i can't!" you squeak, limbs trembling. "fuck! fuck me— ngh!" it probably wasn't a good sign that you were already losing your mind. especially as, although you climaxed, you didn't squirt that time. and suna must've took that a sign to keep going. before you had even reovered from the first orgasmic haze, his mouth was already glued to your cunt again and was nibbling on your throbbing clit immediately.

you gasp in response to his unexpected movement, and you instinctively grip his hair as your eyes widen, "huh— what're you doing?"

"round two." he says casually. "gunna keep going until you squirt."

"but it's too much.." you blabber, chest rapidly rising and deflating as though you had just ran a marathon. the sheets strained in your fists, wrinkling with each open-mouthed kiss upon your raw cunt.

"that right?" he groaned, the vibrations causing you to gently jut your hips towards him, "sure you want me to stop?"

you're way too fucked out to respond, but the prolonged whine drawn from your throat at the way he idly laps at your pussy perhaps gives you away. "mph, no." you reply sheepishly, in a hushed tone.

"that's right, angel." he grumbles into you, your needy hole swallowing his words up as his hand strokes to the outside of your thigh, "it's just me. you know i want to make you feel good— and erm, help you take these pictures." he hastily corrects himself, then continues on with a gulp, hoping you're to lust-dazed to pick up on his freudian slip. "so are you going to let me help you?"

"yes, rinny." you sigh.

" 'yes, rinny' what?"

"please help me."

your desperate cries for release cause the corners of his lips to curl up into a devious smile. he then mumbles, while carefully caressing your ass, "that's my girl." he finishes with a prolonged and oddly inimate kiss upon your clit, before he swiftly pushes his tongue straight back into your prepped hole and re-establishes his previous rhythm.

the tip of his tongue scrapes against your sweet spot, as his lips drum a deep groan against your sopping pussy. there's an urgency to his pace that wasn't there before. he wasn't as steady; frequently losing his breath and having to ferociously yank his tongue out of your clingy hole and kiss down your slit as he tries to catch his breath. and as soon as he does, he wastes no time in plunging straight back into you.

despite how overstimulating it was, your hips work on their own as he grind down on his face, seeking the faint yet powerful sensation of his nose brushing your clit. his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt, and even as your climax toiled within your abdomen and you were inclined to jerk away from his merciless touch, his hand gripped onto your thigh to hold you firmly in place.

due to his fervent tongue action, and how sensitive you still were from your previous orgasm, it wasn't long before the swelling heat in your core was ready to boil over, pulsing with every devious strike his tongue lays into your hole. but this time it felt different to before, something was more powerful and fierce; like it was burning up the pit of your stomach, and your legs were already twitching trying to contain it. "stop, rinny, i—"

"shh, you're okay. let me take care of you." he rasps reassuringly against your cunt, though he's unsure if you can even hear him over your staggered squeaks. suna could tell you were close by the way your walls flutter around his tongue. he pulls out only so he can suck on your throbbing clit and sensitive folds.

this was all becoming so much, too fast. his tongue on your cunt, the harsh sunction on your clit, his rude grasp on your thighs — leaving you with no where to run to and no escape from the unending stimulation. you didn't know how to cope with it. "fuck, i can't. it's too much.."

"you can take it, angel. you're almost there." your thighs were pressed against his ears but he could feel your legs twitching and lashing out behind him. it was kinda cute that he was able to have this effect on you. since you were so close, he savoured every last drop of your juices, licking your cunt clean and delving into your creamy hole for more.

with the final stretch of your walls to accomodate for his tongue, something insides you snaps and a deep heat comes flooding out of your pussy. your back arches and a breathy shriek is forced from your gut; you're left with no choice but to submit to the all-encompassing, molten feeling. it's so overwhelming yet so relaxing, putting you at ease while causing your body to tense up and your walls to spasm around suna's tongue.

squirt gushes out of your hole, pouring down your legs and soaking your bedsheets. to that you can bring yourself to care, you hardly even notice. your entire body is frozen as you whien through gritted teeth, "ahh— suna, please!" you plead for mercy, as though rintaro could help you now — no , this was a struggle against your own body.

but suna was still nice enough to lead you through it, caress your thighs and kiss your folds even as your cunt was drenching his face and hair. "that's it, ride it out. i've got you, (y/n)." he coos, not usually so affectionate during sex but what can he say? you're his best friend and you're so special to him. "rinny's here." a smirk graces his lips upon referring to himself by that silly nickname.

"hah— suna.." you pant, eventually able to flatten your back against the bed. perhaps your orgasm had finished, but the remnants remains. your pussy was still drooling and your body felt worn, but in good way, like you had just hiked a mountain. not to mention the most glaring sign of your climax, your squirt that stained everything nearby — your cunt, your thighs, the bed, the floor and even your best friend.

"thank you.." you can't help but smile down at him; seeing him dishevelled and covered in your juices was oddly endearing.

"uhm.. it's fine." suna grumbled awkwardly, avoiding eye-contact and suddenly going shy.

"what's the matter?" you ask, concerned.

"i— uh, i forgot to move out of the way for the picture."

2. CREAMPIE PIC

okay, so squirting didn't exactly go as planned. however, hope was not lost. suna explained to you that another type of image that makes guys go absolutely feral for a woman is a creampie pic.

although, you were initially skeptical of the logic; if you were a guy, seeing the girl you're interested in stuffed with the cum of another man probably wouldn't do anything for you. but suna just cited natural biological instincts, and regardless of whose cum it is, it will always activate a man's primal instinct to reproduce with you. yup, it's true.

so, you didn't argue with him any further.

there you were, laid out nude on the bed as you let your best friend in the whole world pound into you. with your legs in the air, resting on his shoulders, suna stood at the edge of the bed and fucked into your pretty pussy relentlessly. his eyes were fixated on where your hips met, watching carefully as your greedy hole swallowed him up.

"so tight. can't believe you were hiding this pussy from me, baby." he slurs, idly toying with your pebbled nipple. though it wasn't an easy task as his cock pierced into you with such a force that your tits were bouncing dramatically with each thrust.

"n' you're so big.." you return the compliment, and despite how he was fucking your brains out, it wasn't too hard to muster up the words as his fat cock was about the only thing you could think about — the way his massive length was stretching out your insides, felt like he was leaving you with no room to breathe.

he huffs a chuckle at the sultry way in which you speak, you're clearly not all there, yet you're still making sense and saying exactly what he wants to hear. "should've dicked you down earlier, huh, babe?" he gradually slows down, easing in and out of you and allowing your cunt to savour every last inch of him. really show you what you've been missing.

"uhuh.. never been— ngh, been fucked like this before." you stutter, looking up at him with dewwy eyes. feigning innocence, when you both know pull well that you just want him to start rearranging your guts againt. still, he buys it. he's so enamoured by you regardless, and leans into press a firm kiss against your lips, then begins to scatter kisses along your jaw and down your neck. however, he holds your legs against his shoulders the entire time, even as he bends over, and essentially folds you in half while he sucks hickeys into your neck and teasingly drags his cock in and out of you.

"so flexible as well. perfect fucking angel." there's a certain agony in his voice that you can't quite decipher, partially due to his words being buried against the bruised skin of your neck, partially due to how absorbed you are in his cock delicately splitting you open. "should've blown your back out on halloween. in that slutty costume."

your costume was far from incdecent that night. it was normal, but funnily enough, you were probably the most conservatively dressed person at that party — still, it was the fact you were wearing it which made it slutty. you and your perfect, perky tits and round ass. and your dripping cunt that you photographed after suna walked you home, instead letting him take care of you. in retrospect, you were the most gorgeous person at the party and you were both tipsy enough to have made some bad decisions. so, why didn't he rip that slutty costume off you that night?

as he's reminiscing, without realising, his pace increases until he's practically ramming into you once again. not that you were opposed, in fact, this what you've been aching for. "yes, rinny! please, please, keep going." you beg, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, not only from the rough way his dick was piercing into your tight little cunt, but also from the strain at the back of your thighs from the way he has your legs dangling right by your ears.

"pretty girl.." he grumbles into your neck, marking you up while still slamming his hips against your repeatedly. he's so close; he can feel your heart beat against his chest, and more importantly, your erect nipples poking him through his shirt. "dick too big for you? too big for this tight hole?"

"uhuh." you drawl, losing yourself to the hedonistic haze until he snaps you out of your trance by gripping your cheeks in his hand. your eyes are forced open and you see his face hovering above yours.

"your gunna have to get used it then. your pussy's mine now." his heavy eyes drag lecherously down your exposed body, admiring how it jerks upwards with each rough thrust. "open." his grip tightens on your face.

you shyly part your lips, just enough for him slot two fingers right inside there, so deep it almost causes you to gag. your tongue swirls his digits momentarily before he yanks them out with a faint pop, then slips his wet fingers down between your thighs to pinch and rub at your swollen clit.

"such a good g— nghh." as he's trying to mock you, he has to choke back a whimper, due to your walls clamping down on his cock unexpectedly. it's only temporary, and he's freed in time to keep furiously pounding into you, but it does cause a lapse in his rhythm. he can tell you're close; your pussy speaks on your behalf. even then, your cock-drunk expression and trembling legs were a dead giveaway too.

"you almost there?" he heaves, nails sinking into your soft hips as he continues to brutishly drive into you. "cum for me, baby."

although his wispy voice hardly cracked above a whisper, in combination with his expert fingers abusing your little clit and his buldging tip hitting just the right spot inside you, he sends you hurtling over the edge. your toes curl and back arches off the mattres as your cunt squeezes around his length. "fuh— fuck, suna! right there, mph!"

staggered breaths pull from his chest and his eyes wring shut as your walls clamp down on him and milks him for all he's worth. hushed moans fall from his lips as he relishes in the best pussy he's ever had, before he fills you up entirely with his seed. the hot tension spreading throughout his body is the only thing keeping him upright, otherwise your tight grip on his length was enough to cause his knees to buckle under him.

his cum permeates through your insides, coating your walls and burrowing at your cervix. it was the most satisfying experience; like a comforting hug for your insides after they had been destroyed by suna's fat cock.

despite the fact he's too tired to move and relishing in the feeling of your stuffed cunt, he does the right thing by gently sliding out of you and grabbing his phone from the nightstand and flipping the camera on. after his length is removed, there's nothing left to plug your hole and hence his white seed is left to slowly drip out of you. pearling by your entrance, then seeping down across your ass and onto the bed.

he took two pictures: one with flash and the other without.

"thanks, rinny.." you drone, in a whiny high-pitched tone.

"it's fine." he states, enchanted by the way he's left his mark on you. his fingers move on their own to swipe some of his cum back into your cunt, shoving it right up there roughly, despite your weak protests, "i didn't know you were on birth control."

that single sentence was enough to whip you out of your fucked-out daze. you try not to make your anxiety too obvious, but you body may have betrayed you by freezing up, "uh, right.."

3. BLOWJOB PIC

of course, this one was the least surprising proposal.

although, you were perplexed by this for a similar reason to the creampie pic — why would a guy want to see you sucking another man's dick? — but suna once again reassured you that the sensuality of the image will distract from any possessiveness. and either way, if a guy does happen to start experiencing some stirring jealousy, that will only make him want you even more, so he can stake his claim over you.

that was logic you could follow. sorta.

when you initially got on your knees in front of suna, the plan was that you would lick him clean of the variety of fluids sticking to his shaft and he'd take a couple photos as you did so. which he did; as your tongue worked up and down his warm length, swallowing the salty juices as they gathered on your tongue, suna watched from behind his phone screen. the flash was on so every time he'd snap a picture, he'd get a clear vision of your cute face lapping at his cock.

there was a dull thumping in his chest. he couldn't believe this was actually happening, his sweet best friend whom he has shared so many memories with and whose always been a shining light of comfort and innocence in his life — now you were asking him to take nudes for you.

"i got the photo." he croaked, strangely implying you could stop, while his hands told a different story as they tangled into your roots.

with your eyes shut, your kiss up his length, paying particular attention to the thick vein decorating his shaft, which made him shudder. "mm, but i'm not done, suna."

"but i got your photo." he repeated.

you smile, huffing a laugh out of your nose while your lips were still pressed against his throbbing tip. the air tickled his sensitive length and he had to grit his teeth and ball his fists to suppress a moan. you don't make it any easier by looking up at him with your starry eyes and dulcet voice, "but i want to thank you for all your help."

he blinks down at you, speechless as he watches you tease his tip with the flat of your tongue.

you take his dumb-founded silence and sitffening grip on your head as permission to finally envelope his cock with your mouth. first, you part your lips and take in his leaky tip. it's hot with need, and you can tell by the spluttered moan you lure of suna, he's been aching for this. your mouth has to stretch uncomfortably wide to fit his girth, but you're willing to make sacrifices for your best friend in the world.

you follow up by sinking forward, allowing his dick to slide back in your mouth until it's brushing against your uvula. thankfully you're too distratced by his hand lovingly caressing your strained cheek to even think about gagging. you look up at him, mouth full, and he smirks. "you look perfect like this." his thumb grazes your cheekbone then he cups your chin, tempting you forward, closer to his base, "think you can take it all?"

without further instruction, you pull away from him then lean forward again, accepting his entire length into your mouth despite how your throat constricts around his tip. and you keep going on like this; eyes screwed shut as you frantically sucked his cock. there was an extreme urgency to your movements, as you learned that if you deep-throated him and retreated fast enough, your body wouldn't have time to react or gag.

you were fully consumed by him. your best friend's cum was swirling around in your womb, conjesting your pussy and pooling in your panties while his cock was continuously drilling into your mouth. even your nose kept pressing against his base so his deep musk was all you could inhale. plus, you had his hickeys and marks littering your neck and collarbone.

your brows furrowed together as you struggling to take him all, and he laughed shakily at the sight. "when did you get so good at sucking dick, hm?" there was a sliver of sarcasm in his tone, but you were far too preoccupied to notice or care.

your severe mouth-action was far too much for him to handle. perhaps he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine, but being thoroughly pleasured so soon after his previous orgasm has left him so painfully sensitive. the way your tongue licked the underside of his shaft as your lips dragged against him was too intoxicating and it made him light-headed. fortunately, there was a wall behind him to brace against when he was about to lose balance.

his erection was so stiff, your lips were quick to bruise from the rapid friction against it. he left a dull bitter flavour in your mouth that trickled down your throat which each harsh thrust — it was unpleastant yet you loved it. you begged for more with each impassioned movement.

"shit— you drive me fuckin' crazy, you know that." he wheezed with almost a chuckle. if his dick virtually twitching in your mouth didn't make it obvious enough that he was close, then his mindless garbling certainly must have. "sendin me all those slutty pictures. it's like you wanted this."

he narrows his eyes and squeezes your chin, causing you to falter, "gunna finish me off like a good whore?"

your eyes are watery and crystalline tears poke at your lashline. you answer his question with half of a solemn nod before continuing to bob your head back and forth on his cock, but this time with a fiery desperation he's yet to see from you. tears cascading down your cheeks as you deep-throated his pulsing cock over and over. while saliva clung to his length and stained your cheeks and chin.

soon enough, that determined expression was wiped clean off and replaced with a horrifically lewd one as he comes undone right into your mouth. "fuck, that's it, (y/n). that's right. such a good girl.."

your eyes roll back in your head at the hot instrusion sinking down your throat with a sting. still, suna's fingers were locked in your roots to keep you in place as he bucks into mouth slowly, "yeah.. perfect, baby. swallow it." he says gruffly. you did so, albeit it's not like you had much of a choice.

eventually, he slides his dick out of your mouth and you both watch as strings of saliva keep you linked. you smile, amused, but suna is hasty to sever the connection and stuff his cock back into his trousers.

you gaze at him silently, hands placed neatly on your lap. there's been a sudden shift in his demeanour; he's still panting, but he notices and quirks a brow at you, "what?" he asks, curtly.

"so, are you officially my bitch now?"

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 6)

SO, IIDEK WHAT TO PUT AS SUMMARY BUT LOWKEY HUNTR/X X Y/N! Also, we get some Mystery backstory here! (Also if you wanna hear some bad covering of Your Idol here it is

IDOl

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

‘Technically we didn't follow you, we overheard you. We just happened to be in the vicinity of the conversation.’ Beom looked up to the left, refusing to meet Y/N’s eyes.

‘Y’know you can’t always get out of things by being cute. It doesn’t work that way.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, slumping onto the sofa face first. Watching their debut stage had really taken it out of her. Especially that walk back from the Huntr/x tower.

‘I’m cute?’ Beom’s eyes lit up, as if he were a puppy that had just been given a treat. Y/N could swear she saw a tail wagging behind Beom.

Was this what was known as the natural charm of a youngest group member? Even so, this man was over two huundred years old… Did demons mature in the underworld? Was it even possible to grow? Were they like vampires, just stuck mentally at their age forever? Y/N's mind whirled with unanswered questions.

‘I’m not repeating it.’ Y/N rolled her eyes, unlocking her phone. ‘Well, what's the plan? You have that variety show in about an hour.’

‘Well, seeing as the demon hunters know we have a shooting tonight, they’re probably gonna try to kill us after we finish.’ Jinu shrugged, he twisted the cap off an energy drink and passed it to Y/N.

‘Thanks.’ She smiled, sipping the drink. 

‘Would you be upset if we killed them?’ Min tilted his head, seated in Y/N’s gaming chair. Although the man's light purple hair was obscuring his eyes, Y/N could tell he was looking at her.

‘Yes, very.’ Y/N answered quickly, taking another swig of her drink.

‘Hm, okay.’ Min turned his head to Rae. ‘Looks like it’ll be a change of plans then.’

‘YOU GUYS WERE PLANNING ON KILLING THEM?’ Y/N stood up, pointing her fingers at the plotting boys.

‘Well they were planning to kill us too.’ Abel shrugged, handing out pink clothing to the group.

‘Aw man, not pink again.’ Jinu groaned, holding his shirt as far away from himself as he could possibly.

‘You said you looked good in any colour.’ Y/N laughed, pointing her drink bottle at him.

‘Ugh, that doesn't mean I have to like the colour.’ Jinu grumbled, lifting his shirt over his head.

‘HEY, I’M STILL IN THE ROOM.’ Y/N squawked, turning around, only to be met with the four other shirtless men in the middle of changing. The girl quickly covered her eyes with her hands, squatting down in embarrassment.

‘Oh, sorry. Bad habit.’ Jinu said from behind her. ‘I’m decent now.’

Y/N peeked out of her fingers up at the voice, seeing a guilty looking Jinu.

‘I should have warned you. My bad.’ He stuck out his hand to which Y/N grasped.

Y/N let herself be tugged up, as the rest of the boys finished changing their shirts.

‘Okay, time for pants.’ Rae handed out jeans, each in a different shade of pink.

‘I’M GOING TO MY ROOM, TELL ME WHEN YOU GUYS ARE DONE.’ Y/N sprinted into her bedroom door, slamming it shut behind her.

‘She’s so cute, I could just eat her.’ Min remarked, zipping himself up.

‘Huh.’ Beom turned around.

‘Isn’t that what the young people say about cute things? I could eat it?’ Min sat back down in the chair, shrugging his shoulders.

‘No you old man, I could just eat her up. You need to add the ‘up’ or it just sounds like you wanna take her soul.’ Beom shook his head, brushing off the lint on his jumper.

‘Huh, alright, noted.’ Min gave a quiet laugh, leaning back in the chair with his arms raised.

–

They boys had insisted on bringing Y/N along with them, saying that they needed a fake manager.

They somehow had no manager but they had a typical van that Idols would use to travel. Y/N could see that someone was driving the car but she had never seen the man before today. 

The boys were jabbering about how they would introduce themselves at the variety show and what they would do. They were sat in pairs, Jinu and Beom and Abel with Rae, leaving Min to sit next to Y/N. 

‘If you don’t have a manager, how in the world are you pulling all of this off?’ Y/N blanched, ‘And if you don’t even have a manager, do you have a company? How did you even release Soda Pop?’

‘Hypnosis, we can make anyone do our bidding. Why do you think this person’s driving the car?’ Min leaned down whispering in her ear, his face close to Y/N’s.

‘I’ve been meaning to ask. Can you even see?’ Y/N reached up, fingertips just brushing Min’s purple hair-

‘Not really.’ Min abruptly grasped Y/N’s hand, gripping it tightly.

‘Ow.’

‘Sorry.’ Min released Y/N’s wrist in an instant. ‘I…’ 

‘It’s ok. I shouldn’t have-’

‘No. It’s my fault. I’m just… I have a thing about my face.’ Min sighed, turning away as the rest of the boys continued their conversations, unaware as to the situation in the back seat.

‘Does it have something to do with your deal with Gwi-ma?’ Y/N slid her hands underneath her legs, kicking her feet slightly.

‘Yeah. It does.’ Min said, resting his chin on his fist. Y/N looked down at her feet, waiting for the man next to her to elaborate.

‘I had leprosy.’ Min said in a hushed whisper. ‘It was bad. It started with my hands and feet but it spread. The disease always spreads until eventually… I became blind.’

‘Oh…’

‘It was the fourteenth century so there was no cure and I had no family.’ Min sighed, turning to look at Y/N, hair still obscuring his face. ‘I was begging in the street, stumbling around blind when a group of men beat me with sticks, telling me to do them a favour and just die.’

‘Assholes.’ Y/N grumbled, crossing her arms.

‘Yes, they were.’ Min chuckled at her reaction, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder before continuing. ‘And that was when I first heard Gwi-ma, whispering in my ear.’

‘What did he offer you?’ Y/N blinked, not noticing that the entire car had gone quiet.

‘He said he could take away my scars and help me get revenge on those who had wronged me.’ Min laughed, resting his head against his seat. ‘Now that I think about it, it was such a shallow deal. I barely got anything from it.’

‘You were hurting. Vulnerable.’

‘I was weak.’ Min shook his head, seemingly disappointed in himself.

‘Men have killed for less.’ Y/N noted, as the car slowed to a stop.

‘You’re right about that one I guess.’ Min chuckled, unbuckling Y/N from her seat before doing his own.

‘I honestly thought you were just hiding a big ass forehead.’ Y/N shrugged, stepping out of the car, following the rest of the boys into the studio.

‘HAH! I’ll have you know I was quite handsome before I got that stupid disease.’ Y/N could practically hear Min rolling his eyes.

‘Yeah yeah… Wait, fourteenth century… You have to be the oldest!’ Y/N bounced along, passing through the doors leading into the set.

‘Such a smart girl.’ Min hummed, leaning down.

‘Uh…’ 

Min smirked, combing back his bangs with one hand, revealing his face for a second. Y/N was stunned, eyes lingering on Min’s own ones.

He really was beautiful.

Hell, people would go to war for a face like that, regardless of Min being a man.

‘Wow.’ Y/N blinked, eyes bugged wide.

‘Hm, maybe Gwi-ma really did do me a favour.’ Min continued to smirk, letting his hair fall back into place, turning to walk onto the stage where the rest of the boys were filing onto.

‘Um-’

‘We’ll talk after the show.’ Min lifted Y/N’s chin gently, looking down at her through his hair.

‘Okay…’ 

‘That’s our girl.’ Min smiled, releasing her chin before walking onto stage with the rest of the boys.

‘Holy crap…’ Y/N gaped.

Min’s face was like nothing she’d ever seen. Imagine the most handsome man you knew, married the most beautiful woman on earth and had a baby. Not even then would that child compare to Min.

‘Huh, no wonder Zoey said he was just her type.’ Y/N mused, watching the hosts introduce the boys.

‘Who’s my type?’ A voice chimed in, merging into Y/N’s thoughts.

‘Zoey?’ Y/N spun around to face the three Hunt/x girls.

‘Twice in one day, aren’t we lucky.’ Mira smiled, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

‘Why are you here? Are you scouting out the competition?’ Rumi gave the ghost writer a tight hug, her leather outfit squeaking quietly.

‘Uh, actually I’m-’

‘Oh, OH! Maybe Y/N can watch us take out these demons! She’s never gone with us on a mission before!’ Zoey interrupted, her eyes wide and pleading.

Holy crap Zoey was good at puppy dog eyes. Y/N flickered her gaze between the boys who were now chugging hot sauce, for some reason, to Zoey’s begging eyes.

‘Okay, I’ll watch.’ Y/N agreed, unsure of how this would go down. In the original story this was where Jinu would see Rumi's patterns but... He already knew and so did the rest of the girls.

Rumi cheered quietly, ‘Great! Once they come off the stage, we’ll jump down for the attack!’

‘These boys will be-

‘Done, done, done!’ Zoey finished, as the girls let out evil giggles, as they climbed the steps behind the set, peeking over the set.

Y/N watched on nervously as Beom let out the most sarcastic ‘Goo goo, ga ga’ She’d ever heard in her life.

‘Oh boy…’ Y/N mumbled, glancing between the girls and her demon boyband.

‘Hard to goodbye when we’re having so much fun!’ One of the hosts said into the mic.

‘So hard! So hard…’ The other said, shaking his head in mock sadness.

Jinu took the mic, sending a little smirk to the side wings where Y/N was watching.

Oh no.

What was this man planning?

‘Then why say goodbye when we have an extra special guest coming up?’ He addressed the audience, guesting backstage.

‘What is he up to?’ Y/N mumbled, watching him walk towards her.

‘Oh HELL NO.’ She said, turning to run as Jinu grabbed the back of her collar.

‘Say hello to our writer and producer, Y/N!!’ Jinu cried out, practically dragging her on stage.

‘Ah haha- hi!’ Y/N waved awkwardly as the spotlights partially blinded her. The cheering from the crowd surprised her, as she squinted under the lights.

‘We have her to thank for writing our debut song!’ Abel smiled, as the rest of the boys came to stand around her.

‘Yeah! Thanks Y/N!’ Beom called out, as the group began to bow at her.

‘Wow so hot and respectful!’ The audience cheered, as the boys bowed.

‘Oh no… It was my pleasure.’ Y/N bowed back.

‘No really it was ours!’ The boys folded completely in half as Y/N gaped, shifting her eyes to see an angry looking Huntr/x on the side.

‘Well! That's all we have time for today!’ The hosts called, as the curtains began to close. ‘See you next time! Play Games With Us!’

‘What the hell was that?!'

‘Sorry Y/N, hold on tight!’ Abel smiled, lifting Y/N over his shoulder as the Saja Boys began to run out the back exit.

‘Y/N!’ The girls called, chasing after them, concern etched on the girl’s faces.

‘Girls!’ Y/N called out, stretching her hand out as the door swung shut in front of her.

The boys ran into the bathhouse, Y/N slumped over Abel's shoulder as the girls spotted Y/N still being carried off.

‘Over there! Let’s get our Y/N back!’

‘Aw man, we were just in a bathhouse this morning.’ Mira groaned, running along with the girls.

The girls opened the bathhouse door, peeking out one by one.

‘Aw man, it's a men’s bathhouse.’ Rumi whined, spotting half naked men.

‘Wow, did you guys really follow us in here?’ Jinu rolled his eyes, knowing damn well Huntr/x followed because they had taken Y/N with them.

‘Of course they did, that one’s always looking at our Y/N.’ Abel snarked, jumping slightly to bounce Y/N on his shoulder, receiving an oomf from the flopped over girl.

‘Give us back our Y/N!’ Zoey brandished her throwing knives.

‘You think we’re just gonna let you steal our Y/N and our fans?’ Rumi snarled, gripping her sword tightly. ‘You’re gonna have to fight us for both!’

‘Yeah, keep your hands off our girl.’ Mira backed Rumi up, lifting her moon blade. 

‘Heh, we’re not here to fight.’ Jinu shrugged, splaying his arms, as demons rose from the hot baths. ‘They are.’

‘Water demons.’ Rumi narrowed her eyes.

‘Oh great. My favourite.’ Mira cheered sarcastically, eyes darting to count how many were now slowly surrounding the group.

‘Get rid of the hunters. Then, you can eat all the souls you want.’ Jinu smirked, placing a hand on the water demon in front of him.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, as the rest of the boys ran through the bathhouse, leaving Huntr/x behind.

‘Have fun!’ Jinu ran out, almost slipping on a puddle of water. 'Ah crap.'

Zoey and Mira were slashing through the demons, killing several each second.

‘GO get back Y/N!’ Mira called out to Rumi, slicing through a group of demons.

‘But there's so many!’ Rumi protested, twisting away from a pair of demon claws.

‘Y/N’s alone with them, we need to go get her!’ Zoey threw her daggers, hitting two in the face.

‘GO rumi! We’ll catch up.’ Mira called out, flipping through the air and slamming her blade into the ground, causing a wave of the demons to be vaporised.

‘Okay!’ Rumi flipped over a demon, rushing toward the door that she had seen the boys run through.

‘You promised you wouldn’t kill them. Y/N protested, still being carried by Abel.

‘Technically, we’re not.’ Jinu giggled, running forward, oblivious to Rumi advancing behind him.

‘Gimmie back my Y/N!’ Rumi slashed at the man with her sword, catching his shirt slightly as Jinu ducked almost too late.

‘‘She’s mine.’ Jinu snarled, throwing a bucket at Rumi. He jumped as he slashed at Rumi’s arm with his claws, cutting a piece of her clothing off her arm, drawing blood.

‘AH.’ Rumi cried out, clutching at her arm.

The wall burst open, Mira and Zoey had kicked a demon straight through.

‘Rumi!’ Y/N called out, reaching toward her, as she was carried further away. Jinu turned at the sound of Y/N’s voice, snapping him out of his violent haze.

'DON'T HURT HER.' Y/N cried out, her frustration leaking into her voice.

‘Better help your friends. They look like they need it.’ Jinu smirked, running towards the exit without a second glance.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi shouted desperately as she slashed through the demons that were still emerging from the bathhouse pools.

‘I’ve never seen the Honmoon like this before! There are tears everywhere!’ Zoey threw her knives, each finding their mark.

‘I think it’s because the Saja Boys are stealing the fans! It’s weakening the Honmoon!’ Mira grunted as she stuck her spear into the ground, allowing Rumi to swing on it to gain momentum.

The girls panted with exertion as they finally cleared out the room.

‘What are you doing here! This is the men's bathhouse!’ An elderly man grouched, shooing the girls away as they apologised profusely.

‘Hmph.’ The man sat down on his stool, going back to scrubbing his arms.

‘My little soda pop.’ The man hummed, as a water demon arose silently from the waterbucket, inhaling the mans soul.

–

Y/N groaned, as Abel finally let her down as the elevator doors opened. 

‘I think I'm carsick.’

‘I’m not a car…’ 

‘Whatever, Y/N shook her head, steadying herself. ‘Jinu you hurt Rumi!’ 

‘She literally tried to take my head off Y/N.’ Jinu rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defiantly.

‘But she didn’t.’ Y/N protested, gesturing wildly before stumbling, putting her hand on her head. 

Jinu was at her side in an instant, clutching at the arms gently.

‘Tired?’ Jinu’s tone changed from annoyance to worrisome in a flash. ‘If you want, I can whip up something quick. Or you can go to sleep now.’

‘Just a headache, I think the all-nighters are catching up with me.’ Y/N slowly sat down on the couch with Jinu’s help.

“Can we get you anything Y/N?’ Rae kneeled down next to her, checking her forehead temperature. ‘Your forehead is a little warm Do you have any medication at home?'

'It'd all probably be out of date.' Y/N shook her head, laying down on her side, face against the couch cushions as the boys fussed over her.

‘Did she eat lunch?’

‘No I don’t think so.’

‘Should we-’

‘Mm, need to shower…’ Y/N whined, burying her face further into the couch cushion. 

‘Okay, come on. Up we get.’ Abel heaved Y/N into his arms bridal style. Y/N grouched, her eyes closed as she shifted in the demon’s well built arms, smushing her face into his chest.

Jinu raised his eyebrows, watching his biggest friend turn slowly bright pink in the face.

‘Heh, look at Abel, he’s blushing.’ Beom jeered, pointing.

‘Shut up. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be the exact same way if she was doing it to you.’ Abel spat out quietly. Beom in return, held up his hands in mock surrender.

‘You slipped in before I could!’

‘You snooze, you lose.’ Abel stuck out his tongue, walking towards the bathroom, separate from her ensuite. ‘Hey, are you sure you’ll be able to stay awake while you shower?’ 

‘Can I just sleep?’ Y/N groaned, shifting into a more comfortable position in Abel’s arms.

‘You said you wanted to shower.’ Abel hummed, finding his way to Y/N’s room instead.

‘Here, lay her down and I’ll wipe her face.’ Min appeared behind, holding a wet towel, doused in warm water. 

As Abel slowly (and reluctantly) detangled Y/N’s limbs from his own, Min gently rubbed Y/N’s cheeks with the towel. Abel turned to go turn off the bedroom light so Y/N wouldn’t squint.

‘Y’know, I think-’ Suddenly Min disappeared in a puff of smoke.

‘Wot?’ Abel blinked, looking at the empty space where Min was, now replaced by the wet towel on the floor.

‘Uhh, Abel?’ Beom came into the room, looking confused. ‘Jinu 형 (hyung) and all the others just poofed.’

‘Wait, did Gwi-ma just take them back?’ Abel blinked, looking at Y/N who was now out cold in her bed.

‘I think so… their patterns were glowing.’  Beom mumbled from behind his fist, looking confused. But, we didn’t get taken. Why?’

‘Could it be?..’

Both boys turned to look at the sleeping girl, who was now drooling slightly.

‘Mm, ramen…’ Y/N mumbled, before turning over in the bed.

‘Did she-’

‘It couldn’t be..’

–

Meanwhile the boys had been pulled back, slamming into the ground as they landed.

'Saja Boys! Saja Boys!’ The demons chanted, looking at the group, waving lightsticks around.

The boys looked around, slightly irritated that they were no longer in Y/N’s apartment.

‘Wait where’s-’ Jinu began, before being interrupted by a loud shout from a demon in the crowd.

‘Look! Souls incoming!’

And they were. Streaking across the sky were blue lights, finding their place in the fire behind three of Saja Boys.

‘My little soda pop.’ The flames hummed, ‘It’s catchy.’

‘Surprisingly your little plan is working.’ Gwi-ma said, almost as a challenge.

‘I know. So lemme get back to work and you’ll be feasting in no time.’ Jinu plastered a fake smile, a charming one nonetheless.

‘Except, two of your friends. I can no longer see them. Are they dead?’

‘Yes.’ Jinu answered, thinking quickly, ‘But we’ll kill all of the hunters before they get the rest of us.’ 

Gwi-ma was wrong about them being dead, but he was right about not controlling the boys. Abel and Beom had not been dragged back to the underworld with the rest of the group. Jinu knew they weren’t dead but… How come they weren’t here? How had they escaped Gwi-ma’s control?

‘I’ve taught you well Jinu.’ The giant flame chuckled as the Saja Boys disappeared again, into a puff of pink smoke.

–

As the boys reappeared in Y/N’s apartment, the doorbell began to ring. Jinu frowned, turn around to see that the Huntr/x girls were covered in scratches, waiting to be buzzed up on the monitor.

‘Go wakeup Y/N.’ Jinu said, ‘Tell her the hunters are here. Abel and Beom, we need to talk.’ 

As the boys slinked into one of Y/N’s spare rooms. Rae knocked on Y/N’s door before opening, knowing that the girl would sleep through the knocking.

‘Y/N? The Huntr/x girls are here, they’re waiting to be buzzed in.’ He gently shook the shoulder of the sleeping girl.

‘Wha?’ Y/N rasped, turning over to face Rae.

‘Huntr/x is down stairs.’

‘Oh my gosh!’ Y/N sat up immediately, flinging her covers back and slipping her flip flip’s on. She rushed to buzz them in, before looking around her apartment.

‘Where’d the boys go? Doesn’t matter, you guys have to hide! Go in-’ Y/N opened her spare room to see the rest of the Saja Boys, already hiding in the room. 

‘Uh, we’ll be in here as you guys talk.’ Beom gave a hopeful smile. 

‘Do you guys ever go back to your own apartment?’ Y/N slapped a hand to her forehead.

‘No not really.’ Min shook his head.

‘We only got it because-’ 

‘We’ll talk later. The room is soundproofed but still be quiet!’ Y/N closed the door, just as the elevator began to beep happily.

‘Y/N!’ Rumi rushed forward checking Y/N all over, a teddy bear band aid covering her cheek.

‘Y/N you’re safe!’ Zoey rushed forward, pulling Y/N into a hug.

‘We were so worried.’ Mira sighed, walking forward, holding a bag.

‘Girls, I’m sorry. I really am the writer of their music.’

‘It’s okay. They must have forced you into it.’ Rumi shook her head, guiding Y/N to the kitchen island. ‘Come on, sit. You probably haven’t eaten all day!’

Y/N’s stomach gurgled loudly in reply.

Traitor.

‘Erm.’ Y/N rubbed her neck in embarrassment. ‘How did you guys know?’

‘You never eat if you’re working and today was…’ Zoey trailed off.

‘Y/N, are you okay?’ Mira set down the bag of kimbap before rummaging through the cupboard to find a plate.

‘Yeah, you must have been so scared.’ Rumi touched a hand to Y/N’s shoulder.

‘No, Rumi are you okay? Your arm, did you disinfect it before you bandaged it?’ Y/N hurriedly lifted Rumi’s shirt sleeve, relieved to see a bandage wrapped around it. The purple haired girl had been wearing shorter sleeves since she had told the rest of the girls about her patterns.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.’ Rumi smiled, looking content. ‘We’ve all had a lot worse.’

‘Still…’ Y/N frowned, putting her head in her hands. ‘I don’t want you guys getting hurt. I don’t want the Saja Boys to take souls either-’

‘Y/N calm down, we know you have your reasons, whatever they may be.’ Mira hushed Y/N, sliding a plate of kimbap toward her.

‘But-’

‘We trust you.’

‘But we do need to get our fans back. Have you seen the Honmoon? I’ve never seen it so bad.’ Zoey sighed, resting her head on her arms face down.

‘We could record What It Sounds Like! That’ll be-

‘No, I have a better song!’ Y/N dashed toward her gaming set up, snatching up her book. ‘It’s called Takedown!’

‘Oh?’ Rumi hummed, giving the rest of Huntr/x a knowing smile. ‘Our Y/N’s a musical genius isn’t she.’

‘No. It’s you guys, you inspire me so much!’ Y/N flipped the pages to Takedown. ‘Let me know what you think!’

The girls gathered around the notebook, scanning the lyrics.

‘Break you into pieces in a world of pain, cause you’re all the same?’ Mira muttered, flipping through the pages.

‘Wow, Y/N, if you wrote a love song for me, I think I’d fall in love with you.’ Rumi cocked her head, giving Y/N a smile that she couldn’t place.

‘Rumi, focus.’ Mira laughed, patting the purple haired girl on the shoulder. ‘You can flirt with our girl when we grind these Saja Boys into the dust.’

A thump came from inside the spare bedroom.

The huntr/x girls didn’t hear it but, Y/N swear she heard someone make a noise of protest.

‘This is exactly what we need.’ Rumi nodded in approval, flicking through the lyrics. ‘We have two weeks until the Idol Awards. We’ll release the song then! Is that enough time? I don’t want you to overwork yourself Y/N.’

‘I’ll be fine! I just have to do Takedown and What It Sounds Like.’ Y/N nodded enthusiastically. 

‘You don’t have to do both Y/N.’ Zoey fretted, as Y/N moved to go boot up her PC.

‘But if you release both, you can do it as a joint stage! You could make the Honmoon golden! Fix all the cracks!’ Y/N bounced in her seat, pulling up her digital audio station.

‘Y/N, if you overwork yourself you’ll get sick. If you think you can do it, go ahead, but make sure you’re getting enough rest.’ Rumi laid a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, her tone was akin to an owner scolding their puppy.

‘I can do it!’ Y/N pouted, looking up at Rumi.

‘Alright then.’ Rumi sighed, laughing quietly. ‘You’re so cute when you’re excited, it’s hard to say no to you.’

‘Right? I could just keep her in my pocket!’ Zoey sat down gazing at Y/N while she slid on her headphones, testing out her midi controller.

She had since forgotten the Saja Boys in her spare room, now focusing on replicating the beat in her head, using a thick bass sound to replicate the electro punk sound.

'Hey, can you guys stay so I can get a few recordings?' Y/N stared into the computer, frowning as she adjusted her mic settings for the girls.

'Yeah sure!'

'Perfect.'

The girls worked into the night, making a rough version of Takedown for Y/N to edit.

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TAG LIST IS FULL FOLLOW POST FOR UPDATES! also lmk if u wanna hear the Takedown cover!

[gojoest]

diaper duty! — gojo satoru

part of papatoru days

the one where your husband fumbles through his first diaper change

a/n: posting this real quick before i dip again, bye

brrrrt

It’s the sound that comes first.

You and Satoru exchange a look, and then simultaneously turn toward the bassinet where your baby had been soundly sleeping just moments ago.

A second later, the smell hits — your baby just did what most babies do. Filling her diaper.

“Was that her?” Satoru blinks, slightly amused.

You nod. “Well, who else could it be?”

And, as if responding to your conversation, your little one chimes in with a delighted chuckle.

“Don’t babies usually cry when they make a mess?” Satoru questions, pinching his nose.

“Seems like she’s already taking after you… being all smug after pulling off something mischievous”, you snort.

“Well, what can I say — she’s my girl, after all”, Satoru grins.

You grab a clean diaper and head over to the bassinet with Satoru trailing behind, baby wipes in one hand and a bottle of cream in the other. Setting the fresh diaper aside, you gently lift your baby and lay her on the changing table. She’s still all smiles, that little troublemaker, very much basking in the mess she’s made.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ask, “Want to give it a try?”

“Can I?”

“You’ll have to get used to it”, you say, stepping aside. “When I’m not around, you’ll have to deal with it yourself. And by the way — no, you can’t call Ijichi for that too. He’s already juggling enough of your petty requests.”

You do feel a little bad for Ijichi, but it’s hard to deny how helpful he’s been. Satoru hasn’t left your side since you got discharged from the hospital after giving birth to your beautiful daughter, and with the baby still too small for outings, someone has to run out for supplies. You’re not quite ready to be alone with her (or worse — leave her with your chaotic husband). Not just yet. So naturally, the errands fall to Ijichi — your husband’s go-to errand runner.

“But—”

“No buts!” you cut him off with a smirk. “Come on now, your turn.”

Satoru carefully approaches — with baby steps, literally. He’s already fake gagging as he slowly begins to unwrap your little one, calling her “tiny stink ball” and whatnot under his breath. But among all of his ridiculous dramatics, that soft smile tugging at his lips and reaching his eyes tells you that he’s very much enjoying this.

And so is your daughter. She’s still giggling and kicking her tiny feet in delight, making her father’s first attempt at diaper duty a little more chaotic than expected.

“Yeah? You’re having fun there, huh, princess?” Satoru coos, gently trying to keep her still. “Remember this, alright? Because when you grow up and start talking back to me, calling me uncool and lame, I’m going to remind you exactly who wiped your butt when you were blowing it up like this.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Watching your husband in this moment, you think how precious he looks right now and how different from the figure the world knows. You wonder if the curses that cower at the mention of his name or the unbearable higher-ups would find this sight as endearing as you do and maybe cut him some slack so he can forever be this lovely and silly man by your side. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, fumbling his way through a diaper change... Or pacing the house after feedings while holding your daughter to his chest, trying to coax out a burp. His shirt stained with little spots of baby spit… It’s so far from the polished image he presents to the world, and yet… so perfect.

“Fatherhood kind of suits you, you know?” you say, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch his hands tremble while he gently wipes the baby clean.

“Kind of?” he glances over at you, letting out a fake gasp. “Only kind of? I’m offended…” he pouts. “I think I’m doing a stellar job here. I deserve more credit than that.”

“Right”, you laugh. “If you manage to get her to sleep too, I might even give you a reward for being the most perfect husband and father in the world.”

He smirks at you, eyes gleaming, and then turns back to the baby. “You hear that, little one? Papa’s on a mission now and the prize sounds very promising. So be a good girl and help me out, okay?”

[sheastri]

Heart of a Woman ft. Lando Norris

Synopsis : In which the only thing that's saving him is the heart of the woman who loves him.

Pairing: Lando Norris x black!fem!reader

Genre: Boderline Horror

Warning(s): Cheating

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

username oh he has her all the way fucked up

username atp she wants it to happen bc why even stay??

username in the sense that... username idk abt this one bookie

username ok but who in their right mind would cheat of THEE Y/N

username This is so shady… Do it again!🥱

username y/n, js lemme know if i need to run a fade girl

username Only thing that's saving you is the heart of a woman. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Question is, why I do the things I do. Answer I may never find, but I'll always choose you.

"Come on, pick up the phone." You say to yourself after seeing the posts all over social media. You had called 5 times prior and you were just hoping for a miracle at this point before you heard Lando's voice come through the phone.

"Hey y/n, what's up?" Lando says nonchalantly.

"What's up? Do you think I'm dumb? Like seriously." You say heated.

"What's this about? I'm lowkey lost." He responds again almost uncaring but with an edge in his tone.

"Now me and you both know you saw the pictures all over your timeline so I don't even know why you try. Who's the girl?" You say before letting out a sigh, not even mad anymore just tired.

"Which one?" He replies now sounding annoyed.

"Oh? So it's like that? Forget this then." You say sick of his shit.

"No, y/n wait. Look I know what I did was wrong but you weren't meeting my needs and she was just there." Lando says with full conviction, as if his reasoning is some amazing thing.

"The fuck? What do you mean she was just there?" You say mockingly.

"Well look at where you were and where she was... plus it was just a night out. Probably a one time thing." Lando says still trying to justify his actions.

"Just a night out?" You say raising your voice again.

"Y/n, you're just being overly dramatic and paranoid. Me and her are friends and we were just hanging out, you know? Like friends do!" He says snarky.

"You must have me mistaken for boo-boo the fool because everybody can tell there's something going on." You respond back with the same tone he used.

"But they don't know us baby, they don't understand our dynamic. I don't even do half the things I do with you with her." He says in a baby voice.

You stay silent, mulling over his words.

"Please forgive me love, I won't hang out with her anymore if it makes you feel uncomfortable." He says in the same tone, almost pleading.

"Thank you baby, you're forgiven." You say softly.

"Talk to you later babe?" He says.

"Yeah, I love you." You say all smiley.

"Love you too." He says finally before hanging up.

Wanna give up on you, but damn, I know I can't. I put the blame on me for giving you chance after chance

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

liked by imanirowe, landonorris, and 289,000 others

yourusername love my man real bad

username this is not it...

username his face being turned away in the photos should make something click in her head likeee

username this feels like a humiliation ritual...

username i feel like this is a sign to go back to my ex

username don't do it girl

username this man could push her granny down the stairs and she would come running back into his arms

username oh you got it username not one lie was told

username free my queen from this white devil, amen!!

username I hope to never reach this level of delusion.

username In love with you, but can't stand this and I try to be strong, but how much can I take?

liked by mclaren, ln4, and 349,000 others

landonorris monaco

yourusername my race winner

username the way he didn't even like her comment

username and not one photo with y/n in it

username and i'm hearing some ppl thought a whole different girl was his gf

username the way he almost looked disappointed to see y/n but maybe im looking into it tm

username no bc I saw it too

username congrats on the win lando!

username dpmo

username Put your words on your life this time and I hope your ass ain't lyin' 'cause...

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Only thing that's saving you is the heart of a woman.

You guys were now at Lando’s house after a long and silent car ride. The argument you guys had over text still fresh in both of your minds. He was sitting on the couch and you were standing with a drink in your hand.

"I hope you know that we're still continuing the discussion that we had earlier." You say straight up.

"Do we really have to get back to it? Why are we still on this topic." He says before sighing.

"We can't just laugh everything off because you don't feel like talking about it." You reply rolling your eyes.

"Can't you just get over it? I didn't think it was that serious." He says.

"Get over it? Lando, this is not just some silly little problem that won't mean anything in a couple days. It's the fact that you've cheated multiple times." You say now yelling.

"I didn't even cheat, it's just the way the media is spinning things. Maybe if you got off social media and talked to me more we wouldn't be here." He says in a matter a factly tone.

"Are you serious? Anytime I try and talk to you it's like I'm talking to a wall. Even when I call your phone, do you know how many times I have to call before you pick up?" You say annoyed and frustrated.

"Maybe if you were more interesting I'd be more eager to answer the phone." He says.

"Oh, but I'm the problem right?" You say raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, you are actually. Glad we could finally agree on something." He says.

You're about to respond when you actively feel the gears turning in your head as something clicks.

"Yeah, no. I'm wasting my time here. I don't think you've liked me for the longest time now, you just enjoy stringing me along and driving me insane. We're done." You say calmly as you walk away to go and get your suitcase and leave.

"Wait, what do you mean we're done?" Lando yells out as you walk away.

It's my mind and my soul versus your pride. Nigga, check your ego 'cause I left mine at the door

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

liked by imanirowe, oscarpiastri, and 457,000 others

yourusername the men in your books will never disappoint you

landonorris pretty girl

username be gone evil username he rlly tried ts

username wait... this is new territory, I'm scared

username ya'll don't get too excited, we don't want a repeat of last time

username oh ts broke me, everybody thought she was free and then next post they're hand in hand

username she rlly shines when there's not a man in the bg tryna out mog her

username In love with you but can't stand your ways and I try to be strong...

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Lando Norris has uploaded a story

Caption: Her.

username it seems like he only rlly applies pressure when she decides she's done

username fumble of the century

username me when i realize the baddest bitch i'll ever have in my lifetime is finally choosing herself and not me

username so glad she finally left this bum

username But how much can I take?

liked by imanirowe, oscarpiastri, and 397,000

yourusername life when you're not with somebody who hates you

username so incredibly real

imanirowe WE OUTSIDE THIS SUMMERRR

username i love this era on her

username so glad that he who shall not be named is gone

username oscar in the likes?? he's def plotting

username i was SICK of him

username Only thing that's saving you (no, I can't take it no more, I'm 'bout to walk out the door)

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A/N: My whole google search is what would a cheating man say, can't wait to clear it up with the next ficcccc.

[tywrites]

burnt out | mateo manta

pairing: mateo manta x gn!reader

warnings: smut, minors dni!!!, blowjobs, little angsty at the beginning, petnames, subby mateo

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, i just wanna take care of him </3 i hope you enjoy hehe

----

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite human!”

Mateo always looked happy to see you, but there was something… different this time. His smile looked a little strained, his eyes tired as he tried his hardest to avoid your gaze. His tone seemed excited, but a bit forced. You raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Uh oh, only your favourite?” You teased, leaning down to give the inanimals some attention, giving Stitch a good scratch behind the ear. She barked animatedly and rolled over for belly rubs.

He chuckled. “Ohhh I see. You’re trying to win over all the inanimals now too, huh?”

You smiled down at the cluster of knit and threads bouncing around you. “Well, you did say you were a package deal,” you said, glancing up at him with a glint in your eye.

“Hmm, I did say that, didn’t I?” He hummed. “I guess I can’t really be mad about that. It’s one of the things I love most about you…”

You could feel your cheeks heat up at his sweet words. He seemed to always know exactly what to say to get you all flustered. But you couldn’t let that distract you. Something was clearly wrong. His smile didn’t meet his eyes and his nervous tic of pulling at the blanket around his shoulders was already showing. He picked at the seams absent-mindedly, a bad habit he tried hard not to indulge, especially in front of the inanimals.

He was stressed. Plain and simple.

“Mateo?” You said his name carefully, not wanting to come across as overbearing but the concern in your voice was still evident.

He looked at you, half smile on his face.

“Yes, amor?”

“Are you doing okay?”

The easiest way to talk to Mateo about stuff that was bothering him was to confront it head on. If you danced around the subject, you’d never get anywhere. He hated admitting when he was struggling; he was very independent in that way. A workaholic through and through.

Blunt was the way to go.

He paused at your question, his silence doing the work of answering better than he ever could. He looked like he was about to deny it, like he was going to go through the usual spiel you give when someone asks how you are – “I’m good, how are you?”

But at the last second, something shifted. As though the pillow fort he’d built up around him had come tumbling down. A shaky sigh left his lips, threatening to turn into a sob. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of the inanimals. He stood up abruptly, taking your hand and leading you upstairs swiftly, silently.

You followed, a bit bewildered. Once you’d reached your bedroom, he gave Betty a short look. She seemed to understand immediately, rising and leaving the room, giving you both a polite nod. When you were alone, it was as if Mateo couldn’t hold it back any longer. He took an unsteady breath in and sat down on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his hands.

You’d never seen him like this. So downtrodden.

Once over the initial shock, you reached out immediately – you sat down next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. You could hear quick breaths and sniffles coming from your boyfriend and even though his face was hidden from you, you could tell he was crying.

“’Teo? Love?” you tried gently, your hand on his shoulder giving a comforting squeeze. “Please look at me,”

He sniffed and after a moment, raised his head to face you. It broke your heart to see him like this, his face all crumpled. His brown eyes shone with unshed tears, brimming over the lash line before falling down his round cheeks.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he began, his voice sounding strained. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this,”

He tried in vain to wipe the tears away, rubbing at his face hard with the sleeve of his duvet jacket. This only seemed to accomplish making his face more red. And sore. He was stopped by a gentle hand closing over his wrist, pulling it onto your lap. You held his hand, your thumb drawing circles on the back of it.

“Please don’t apologise to me, love. This is what I’m here for – to listen. I just want to hear what happened, if you’re okay to tell me?” You spoke softly and sincerely, making it a point to look into his eyes. You never wanted him to think he had to apologise for feeling.

He nodded slowly, his body automatically shifting closer to you. His hand was still on your lap, covered by your own. He could feel the warmth of your body pressing against him, secure and welcoming. And he began talking.

Once he’d started, he struggled to stop.

“-and one of the tassel-hounds got caught on a loose nail, I was barely able to piece him back together again, and while that was happening I couldn’t find Davi so I thought the same thing happened to him, and I was running over the whole house trying to find him-”

“Mateo, breathe. Please,” you said gently, not wanting him to get himself so worked up. He stopped babbling, closing his eyes and taking a few slow, deep breaths.

Once he’d calmed his breathing, he explained everything that had been happening over the last few days. It was one thing after another and he’d had hardly any time away from the rescue – let alone any time to relax for himself. You bit your lip, guilt striking you in the chest. Fuck, you should have been there. You told him you’d always be around to help if he needed it and you… you kind of let him down.

“And before you start spiralling – none of this is your fault, amor. You’ve been just as busy, don’t think I haven’t seen it. The rescue is my responsibility and I couldn’t handle the heat this time,” he said, looking down at his lap. “I don’t get it… I love what I do, the inanimals mean everything to me. I just… god, things have been difficult lately…” he trailed off, ending with a dejected sigh.

You furrowed your brow. “Mateo, this happens to the best of us. You’re just… burnt out. You need a break,”

He looked at you with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t just take a break. It’s not like there’s a backup of me to look after the rescues. I don’t have a twin, y’know?”

You ignored the sass in his tone, unable to help the fond smile breaking out across your face. “It doesn’t have to be a long break. Even just a night. A chance to take a breather. I mean, when was the last time I got to pamper you, hm?”

He paused, processing your words. His cheeks reddened, his hand playing with the seams of his duvet nervously.

“Pamper? Um, me?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, you. You’re always looking after everyone else. Let me… let me take care of you for once, Mateo,” you said, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide and wanting. He bit his lip, seeming conflicted.

“But…”

“Only if you want to. The inanimals are asleep, I already texted Betty to sort them out. If you want this, you only have to ask,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours softly.

A pause.

Then a nod.

You smiled. “I need your words, my love,”

He whined quietly. “Please… I- I want it,” he said, his blush deepening as it reached his ears. He was so fucking adorable. You leaned towards him, capturing his lips in a kiss. It started out softly, your lips moving in unison, perfectly pieced together. Once you’d felt him relax under you, his body releasing the stress it had been holding for days, you deepened the kiss.

Slowly, you started to push him down into a laying position on the bed, quickly moving so you were straddling his lap. You kept your lips connected the entire time, one hand on his chest while the other played with the soft strands of his hair. He tried to keep up with your lead, kissing you breathlessly.

Your hand snaked down his body – past his soft stomach, down past his waistline, to the hard bulge that was forming in his plush sweatpants. You couldn’t help but tease him a little, considering he was so damn cute when desperate. You gave his bulge a firm squeeze, ripping a sweet groan from him.

“Fuck… please,” he whimpered against your lips, hips bucking up into you involuntarily. “Need you so badly, amor,”

You kissed him sweetly, giving him another squeeze. “I’ve got you, ‘Teo,”

You attached your lips to his neck, kissing down his chest. He looked down at you, his mouth agape as you passed his stomach, giving him little nips though his clothes as you went. Once you reached where he needed you so badly, you paused.

You looked up at him through your lashes, making sure he was watching. Then, you leaned forward and kissed the tip of his hard cock over the fabric. A sharp gasp caught in Mateo’s throat, his face flushed and his eyes wide as he watched you. You smirked at his reaction, giving it another soft kiss in response.

“Can’t wait to take care of you, my love. Can’t wait to feel you down my throat,”

He covered his face with his hands, his thighs shaking at your actions and words. “Mi vida, you can’t say things like that – I won’t last,” he whined.

You chuckled. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” you said as you untied the blanket around his waist. Hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, you told him to lift up a bit so you could slide them off. He happily complied, lifting his hips up.

“Good boy,”

It slips out so naturally, you barely realised what you were saying until it was already out. You looked up at Mateo, trying to gauge his reaction. You were praying you hadn’t just fucked this up. He gulped shakily, his cock bouncing up out of his sweatpants and against his stomach.

“Could… could you say that again?” he asked hesitantly.

You placed your hands on his thighs, leaning in close to him. “Oh? You like being my good boy, Mateo?”

He groaned, his hips grinding up into you. The long awaited friction against his bare cock only made him louder. “Mmh- I, uh, mmh!”

“Words, love,” you remind him, carding your fingers through his sweaty white locks, pushing them out of his eyes.

“Fuck, yes I like it. A lot,” he finally chokes out. “Please, I- I need you…”

You held back a moan at his words. God, you loved to hear him say that. To admit that he can’t do everything all by himself, that he actually needs your help with something. Something only you can help him with.

You finally took pity on the poor man, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before diving down. You wasted no time in taking him into your mouth, licking a long stripe from base to tip before suckling at the head. This ripped a wrecked whimper from Mateo, his hands immediately tangling into your hair.

You swirled your tongue around his length, savouring the taste. You took a deep breath through your nose before pushing down, taking each inch you could possibly muster. You whined at the feeling of him, hard and heavy down your throat. Mateo gave your hair a hard tug at that, the vibrations sending shock waves of pleasure through him.

“Fuckkk, mi amor… oh my god, you’re amazing,” he breathed, looking down at you. Seeing you with your mouth stretched wide over his cock – it did unspeakable things to him.

You swallowed back the drool that was threatening to overflow, earning you another whine from Mateo. Briefly, you pulled off of his cock, sucking in greedy breaths of air. You panted before going right back down again, this time determined to take it all the way. You pushed past your gag reflex, sinking down until you could feel the tip of his length tickling the back of your throat; as well as the crown of white hairs around the base tickling your nose.

You started to bob your head, your hands moving to cup his heavy balls, massaging them as you sucked him off. His moans were getting louder, his grip on your hair more desperate.

“Yes… god, yes. Please, I’m- I’m so close,” he said, higher pitched and whiny. His hips were starting to push up into you, forcing his cock further down your throat with each thrust. You choked when he pushed past your gag reflex before you could brace yourself, the contracting of your throat only pushing Mateo closer to his impending orgasm.

You needed his come down your throat. Badly.

Mateo’s mind was blurry and he could hardly think straight; all he could think of was the hot cavern of your mouth. He was panting, his stomach tensing with each thrust of his hips, his balls hitting your chin. If he could form a single thought, he’d probably apologise for being so rough – but right now, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

“I- I’m so close. Ayy- I need to- god, I need to come,” he groaned, his desperate eyes finding yours. “C-can I..? Please?”

You moaned around his cock, bobbing your head faster to show enthusiastic consent. He panted, giving a few more hard thrusts into your mouth before he reached his peak. A whine ripped from him as he flooded your mouth with his come, his thick load shooting down your throat in ropes. Curses tumbled from his mouth as he came, his head falling back onto the bed in ecstasy. He was shaking all over, his mind a fuzzy mess. He held your head down until he was done and you ensured not a single drop was spilled, your eyes rolling back at the intense treatment.

When Mateo had finished, he released you and his body completely relaxed. He was breathing heavily, his eyes closed in utter bliss. You crawled up his body, laying on top of him with your head against his chest. There was a content silence, only heavy breathing filling the room.

“So, feeling pampered?” You teased, the tip of your finger tracing shapes onto his chest.

He smiled sleepily. “I mean… I could definitely get used to it.”

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - PART SEVEN*

Summary: “When Y/N confesses she needs Harry’s toolbox, he comes rushing to give it to her…” (I’m sorry this summary is so fucking stupid lmfao😭)

Wc: 5.2k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment/assault, bit of angst, SMUT, praise kink, sub/dom dynamics, teehee🤭

A/N: helloooo as promised, here is a new chapter of NFWMB in celebration of me getting my bachelor’s degree (woo🥳)! Thank you for being patient with me💞 I love these two they are so cutiepatootie, so happy reading!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

Harry was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

Ever since Y/N had told him she wanted him, he had been floating on a cloud of ecstasy.

Sure, his original intention was to do it all the old-fashioned traditional way. Take her out to dinner, take it slow, really court her. But when Y/N said she didn't like the pressure of dating, he knew he needed to act quick in order to not fully lose her. He'd do anything in any way she wanted, as long as he could get a chance to show her how much he wanted her.

Now, this was definitely not the traditional way, but Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. The sole idea of Y/N in that intimate capacity had the ability to send him to the edge. He needed to actively seek distractions in order not to think about it all day.

But when he wasn't thinking of Y/N's beauty or the agreement they made, his mind would float to that pathetic rat that had dared to make her feel unsafe. That had... touched her. He couldn't think about it too long either, not wanting to do anything rash and disrespecting Y/N's wish for him to let her handle the situation.

He just felt so angry and frustrated, and he wanted to her help her so bad, but he just didn't know how. Teaching her to defend herself was the help he was able to give for now, but he was hoping for her to let him in and let him offer her more emotional support as well.

All in good time, he thought.

For now, he was trying to focus on giving his client all of his attention while he was doing his exercises. He was a personal trainer for a select group of people who paid a significant amount to get the most detailed training, so the time-slots with these clients required his full focus.

"All right, good form Brady. That was the last one for today. I still see some restraints when you jump, which is coming from a lack of focus on hip exercises, so we're going to be incorporating those from Friday onward. Sound good?"

The sixty-five year old man smiled at Harry. He had come in here about four months earlier, wanting intensive personal training after five years of not working out because he had decided he was going to run a marathon by the end of the year. He'd later told Harry that his daughter was training for the marathon, and since they used to run together when she was little, he'd wanted to surprise her. Harry immediately signed himself on as Brady's personal trainer.

"I mean that's what I pay you for, right?" Brady joked, wiping off some sweat with the small towel around his neck. Harry huffed out a laugh, humming in agreement and handing Brady his water bottle. Suddenly, he heard a 'ping' sound coming from his pockets.

Turning on his phone, Harry frowned at seeing he had two message notifications from an unknown number.

Unknown

Heyy, I'm so sorry to bother you but I have kind of a weird question.

My bathroom cabinet door just kind of fell off its hinges and Sophie said you had a toolbox. And since I do not have one of my own, nor know how to fix this, I was wondering if maybe you had time to come over and help me somewhere later today?

This is Y/N, by the way. Sorry I should have started with that.

Harry hadn't realized how wide his smile was until Brady flicked him with his towel.

"What are you smirking at?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry looked at his client and noted the playful glint in his eyes. "I thought you were a bit different the last few sessions, now I know why."

Harry rolled his eyes, not really saying something. Brady sniffed a laugh and turned to gather his things.

"If she makes you smile like that then you better go for it." He said, and Harry was glad that Brady wasn't looking at him because he felt his cheeks turning a little red. "Because I did, and let me tell you... best decision of my life."

A wide smile spread on Harry's face as he listened to the advice of his client. He didn't even try to deny it, just took it with a smile and a nod. Brady only winked at him before walking off to the lockers. Harry immediately opened the chat with Y/N and put her into his contact list.

Harry

Hey

Of course, I'm free for the rest of the day, so just let me know when I can come by.

He quickly shut off his phone before he could overthink his text too much, and scurried off to his office to stress out in private. By the time he whipped his phone out again, he had a text from Y/N.

Y/N

Really? That'd be great, thank you!

I'm working from home today so you could swing by at like 4 if you want?

Fuck yeah, Harry thought.

Harry

Alright, see you in a bit.

With toolbox.

Y/N

Thanks! You're a life saver!

Harry beamed the whole way home. In his car, while he sought the toolbox, as he put the car in the toolbox. He just couldn't stop being giddy over the fact that Y/N had called him a life saver. It was kind of terrifying; how much an impact she had on his mood. Then again, he was too damn happy to worry about it.

It was only a fifteen minute drive from Harry's place to Y/N's. He wondered how it was possible that they'd only recently crossed paths. Maybe it was some kind of faith. Maybe they had come into each other's life at the exact right time.

Harry forced himself to stop pondering as he rang the downstairs doorbell. Taking a deep breath, he waited for Y/N to open the door. When the buzzer went off, Harry was quick to push the door open and hurry upstairs to her apartment.

Y/N was standing in the door opening, smiling as Harry walked up to her. She gave him a small wave, cracking a smile out of him too. She was just so adorable.

That was until his eyes traveled down to her legs, which were barely covered. She was only wearing tiny shorts and a large cardigan. And there was absolutely nothing adorable about those legs.

"Hey." She said when he was finally close enough. Her gaze dropped down to the toolbox in Harry's hand. It was a gift from his dad that he had gotten when he'd just moved out, but the box was huge. It did come in handy whenever something broke, though. Harry barely ever had to run to the store.

"I said bring a toolbox, not the entire hardware store." Y/N joked, stepping aside to let him in. Harry faked a gasp as he stepped into the apartment, his stomach swirling at the memory of the last time he was here.

"Are you making fun of my toolbox, Y/N?" He raised a playful brow, the insinuation floating between the two of them. Y/N stepped closer to Harry.

"I wouldn't dare to make fun of your toolbox." She replied cheekily. Harry's eyes slightly widened at her words. He had expected her to get a bit shy like she always did, but he was pleasantly surprised by her surge of confidence.

It took Harry a few seconds to regain himself, delaying his response. "So, where's the broken cabinet?"

Y/N pointed to a door on her right, and Harry immediately walked towards the bathroom. She was really looking too beautiful today but he needed to focus on fixing this cabinet before he could divide his entire attention to every inch of her skin, despite how badly he wanted to abandon everything and just spend the rest of his life in these four walls admiring her.

He went to work quickly, and Y/N brought him a glass of water while he began rummaging through the toolbox to find the right hinges and screwdrivers. Y/N sat leaned forward on the edge of her bathtub, head leaning on her hands as her stare burned a hole in his brain. He felt his ears turning red at the feeling of being watched by her, but he liked it too much to say anything about it.

"All done." Harry said after ten minutes, turning to see a gaping Y/N looking at the fixed cabinet door. She gasped as she got down to the floor and sat next to Harry, fascinated by the working door.

"Oh my god, you're so fast!" Y/N said with a wide smile as her fingers grazed over the new hinges. Just for good measure, she opened and closed the cabinet. Her gaze flicked over to Harry, the closeness between them suddenly very obvious.

"Thank you." She said softly. Her shy smile made the urge to kiss her almost too big to bear. Harry found himself automatically starting to lean in when Y/N suddenly pulled away and turned back with a glass of water in her hand.

"You didn't drink anything yet." She stated, her big eyes looking up at him. Y/N was back to being her skittish self, and for some reason, when she nervously bit her lip, Harry couldn't handle it anymore.

Leaping forward, he grabbed her face and put her lips on his. Slightly taken aback by the impact of the movement, Y/N let out a small noise, combining a yelp and a moan, but she immediately kissed him back. It was only because Harry felt something dripping from his elbow, that he leaned back from the phenomenal kiss.

Splattered all over Y/N's cardigan was the water that had once been in the glass she still holding. It must've tipped over when Harry launched toward her. She looked down and let out a small laugh.

"Oh, you made me all wet!" She giggled, trying to wipe over her cardigan as if it would help the situation. Harry groaned at Y/N's words, his cock suddenly straining way too much in his pants.

"Fucking hell..." he cursed under his breath, hoping it was subtle enough. Y/N heard it anyway, a frown on her face as she met the eyes of the pained man in front of her. Only when a few seconds had passed, she realized the double meaning of her sentence.

"Oh." was the only thing that came out of her mouth as she stared blankly at Harry. Slowly, he began to worry. Had he made her uncomfortable? He couldn't read her face expression.

He was about to ask if everything was okay, when Y/N's hands slowly floated to the button of her cardigan. Harry's eyes followed suit, and his heart rate began to pick up as she began to unbutton her cardigan.

Harry had to actively keep his mouth closed as he watched her take off the cardigan to reveal nothing but a yellow lace bra underneath it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to touch her in any way he could, but he waited. Either for a signal or to ask for her consent. Just because she was taking off her cardigan didn't mean he'd suddenly gained the right to touch her.

He'd do anything to earn it, though. He'd get on his damn knees to beg for it if he had to.

"Better to take it off, right?" She whispered, a bit uncertainty lacing her words. She was timid; it was the first time she'd really initiated something in this manner.

"Right." Harry whispered back, making sure to keep his eyes on hers. Y/N frowned a bit.

"I bought this yesterday, do you like it?" She ran her fingers over the lace of the bra. Harry's eyes lowered, and he took his time to observe every inch of her breasts and the lace that covered them. His cock was growing painfully hard, but he had to be patient.

"I love it. Fits you perfectly." He rasped. He glanced at Y/N, who swallowed at his words. When his gaze traveled back to her chest, he could see the quickened breaths she was taking.

"Does it make you want to touch me?"

Harry could've melted at the shy words that left Y/N's mouth. He took a deep breath, restraining himself.

"Y/N, everything about you makes me want to touch you." He said, his stomach fluttering as he saw a smile grow on her face. He smirked, leaning closer until his lips were mere inches away from hers. "Can I touch you, darling?"

"Please."

Harry needed nothing more to immediately go in for the kill. He planted hungry kisses on her chin and jaw, working his way down to her neck, Y/N ragged breathing and stifled moans only encouraging him more. His hands traveled up to her chest, cupping one of her breasts and softly squeezing it has he worked to leave bruises on her neck.

"I— Ah... I bought it for you." Y/N croaked out in between moans, her hands searching for any part of Harry's body to hold onto.

Harry groaned into her neck, the confession making him go crazy. Wrapping both his arms around Y/N waist, he pulled her into his lap, placing her right on his hardened cock.

"Yeah? Just for me?" He asked, looking up at her as his fingers trailed the bare skin on her back. Y/N hummed, unconsciously rolling her hips against him to get closer. "How'd you know yellow is my favorite color?"

Y/N sniffed a laugh, her cheeks turning red. "I didn't know it was."

"It is now." Harry said, diving his head in between her breast to leave kisses all over her chest. Y/N grabbed Harry's hair, slightly tugging on it as his mouth touched her all over.

"Harry, please..." She sighed, trying not to moan too loudly. He backed away, looking up at the panting girl in front of him.

"What is it darling? What d'you need?"

Y/N let out a huff. "You know what..."

"No I don't." Harry shrugged, shaking his head. "If you want something you gotta tell me. I always need to know you want it."

Y/N's face was puzzled, and possibly a bit taken aback by Harry's stern statement. He could see her trying to scramble the words in her brain. He knew it wouldn't be easy for a shy girl like her, but he hoped that learning to voice her needs would help her become more confident. In all aspects of her life.

"I... I want you to touch me."

"I am touching you." He took it a little further. Y/N groaned.

"I mean—" she dropped her shoulders. "I want you to touch me.... down there... if you want! Of course. I don't—"

Harry was quick to grab her face. "I want to do whatever you ask of me, don't worry about that. Just tell me what you want, you're doing good baby."

Y/N nodded, looking away as she scraped together some courage. She swallowed before locking eyes with Harry again.

"I want you to touch my pussy with your fingers... please." She said, her eyes wide as she waited for Harry's reaction.

Suddenly, Harry stood up. Y/N clung to him as he went to stand straight and planted her in front of the counter next to the sink. He could tell she was confused when he took a step away from her.

"Take off your shorts and your panties." Was all he said. Y/N did as she was told, quickly taking off her clothes and throwing them to the side. Harry admired her body as she stood there in front of him, waiting for his next move.

"Good girl." He said before grabbing her hips and turning her around to face the mirror in front of them. She was so tiny compared to him. It wasn't that she was extremely short, but his muscles made him way broader in comparison to her frame. But still it was perfect, she was perfect for him.

"See yourself, baby?" He said, lowering his head to plant a kiss in her neck while his arms snaked around her waist. He looked at her through the mirror, seeing her nod in agreement. "You look so perfect, don't you? Tell yourself you look perfect."

Y/N brows creased. "W— what?"

"Tell yourself you look perfect." Harry repeated matter-of-factly, stunning Y/N a bit. She opened her mouth but no sound came out; she was contemplating.

"I look... perfect?" She tilted her head slightly as she did what he asked, but Harry just scoffed.

"A little more conviction, please."

Y/N sighed, hesitantly biting her lip. "I look perfect."

Harry's fingers dug into the sides of her waist, and pulled her into him. In the way her eyes widened slightly, he figured she could feel the bulge that was hiding in his jeans.

"That's it, baby. Yeah you do." He encouraged her with a smile, causing Y/N cheeks to turn red a bit and look down. She gasped when he suddenly slipped his hand into her panties, the sudden touch on her clit causing her to lean into him. Y/N's eyes fluttered shut as she tried not to make too much noise as Harry's fingers explored her cunt.

"Just when I thought it couldn't get more perfect..." Harry said, planting a kiss on her neck before suddenly sticking a finger inside of her. Y/N's hips bucked slightly at the sudden intrusion, and she was quick to grab onto the counter in front of her.

"Shit..." she whispered, breathing becoming more heavy as Harry added a finger. The wet noises of Y/N pussy filled the room, and Harry's pants tightened even more at the sound of it.

Needing her to come desperately before he was going to cream his own pants, Harry picked up his pace. Y/N let out a whine at the speed of his fingers, and began to clench around them.

"You gonna come for me baby?" He took it as a sign, and by the way Y/N's head was hanging low with nothing but small moans leaving her lips, he was interpreting it just right. She quickly nodded in response, keeping her eyes closed as her face began to scrunch up. Harry eyed the counter she was holding onto, and spotted her white knuckled hands.

"You're doing so good, you can come for me." He motivated her. It didn't take more than a few seconds for her to start spasming around his fingers. Y/N's body fell forward a bit, her shaky legs barely being able to keep her up as she came around Harry's fingers. He was quick to pull her back into him, forcing her to hold onto to his arm as she rode out her orgasm on his hand.

Whispering sweet nothings in her ear, Harry took his time to let Y/N come down from her orgasm. When she finally opened her eyes, and Harry's spotted the dazed look in her eyes, he couldn't help but smile.

"There she is." He teased. Her cheeks were a bright pink from the orgasm she just had, and a small giggle left her mouth. "Was that good for you? Was that what you wanted?"

Y/N said nothing, solely smiling as she turned around to face Harry. His brows furrowed slightly as the silence went on, but he froze when she suddenly began to sink to her knees.

"Baby, you don't have to feel obligated to—"

Immediately, her smile dropped, much like Harry's heart. She looked up at him with those doe eyes of her, looking disappointed.

"You don't want that?" She asked, and Harry was pretty sure a piece of his heart cracked at hearing the tone of her voice.

"I want everything from you. I just don't want you to feel like you have to make me feel good just because I make you feel good, okay?" He explained, hoping she would understand.

Y/N tilted her head. "But... I want it."

Harry thought it over for a minute, then answered.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

Y/N swallowed, then nodded. Harry quirked up a brow.

"Yes." She voiced quickly, instantly understanding his silent demand for verbal consent.

"And you wanna suck me off?"

Again, Y/N nodded. "Yes."

"Greedy girl." Harry's lips quirked up, and he pushed back a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "Alright, who am I to say no? But just for a little bit, I don't think I'll last long."

Y/N hummed eagerly, immediately reaching for Harry's pants. He was shocked at her sudden burst of confidence when she turned them around so Harry could lean against the counter. He wondered where she'd learned that move, and then he quickly took that thought back, because he didn't want to think about Y/N making this move on other men.

All racing thoughts were thrown out the window when Y/N pulled down Harry's boxers. He could tell she was a bit surprised, and he would be lying if he said it didn't inflate his ego just a bit.

"You still sure about this?" He asked for good measure. Y/N looked at him, a bit... annoyed?

Harry didn't have much time to figure out what the expression on her face meant, because before he knew it, she licked a long stripe from his baseball the way to the tip of cock. Harry hissed, gripping onto the counter as she began to kitten lick the tip.

Fuck, he wasn't gonna last long like this at all.

When Y/N properly put her lips around him and began to really suck him off, Harry had to do everything in his power not to come in the spot. Automatically, he threw his head back, but as soon as he realized he was missing the view of the most beautiful angel he'd ever seen giving him a blowjob, his eyes traveled back to her.

"Fucking— hell..."

Looking up through her lashes, Y/N was sucking on Harry, taking care of what she couldn't take in her mouth with her hand. And then, when she began to speed up, Harry couldn't take it anymore.

Leaning forward, he pulled Y/N off his cock and got her to stand up straight. She yelped at the sudden movement, and she looked slightly offended to be disturbed during her performance of a lifetime. Somehow, when he lifted her up, she knew to wrap her legs around him. She held on tightly as he moved out of the bathroom and made his way over to the couch.

"I have a condom with me."

Y/N tilted her head. "I’m on contraceptives."

"Okay." Harry said. "I haven't been with anyone in like, three months. I got tested then, and I'm clean."

Y/N nodded. "Right... well I haven't been with anyone for like, two years, so I'm definitely clean."

Again, Harry would have been lying if he said that didn't made him feel a bit better about the two of them. But that was not the focus of right now.

"Alright, no condom then?" He asked.

"No condom." Y/N repeated, and that was that.

Sitting down with Y/N on his lap, Harry let her go at her own pace as she grabbed his cock and lined it up with her pussy. It was difficult not to dig his nails into her when she pushed his cock into her. Her jaw was slack, definitely getting used to the size and girth of the man she was pushing inside of her.

It was a matter of patience, but Y/N's tight walls, that patience was running thin. When Harry was about halfway in, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Want me to help?" Harry asked, and when Y/N nodded, he bucked his hips up, impaling her on his dick. She let out a loud a moan at the harshness, throwing her head back. But Harry didn't stop, he began to fuck up into her.

He was mesmerized, watching her tits bounce from the impact, her head back and her neck on display. She was a sight for sore eyes and he couldn't believe he was lucky enough to see her like this.

"Fuck, angel, you feel so good." The nickname slipped out like it was the most normal thing on earth. Harry was pleasantly surprised to feel her clenching around him in response, her nails digging into his shoulders.

"D'you like that? When I call you angel?" He began to provoke her. She nodded.

"I love it." The confession slipped past her lips. She opened her eyes, gazing into Harry's. "Again, please."

"Yeah? Want me to call you angel?" He asked, the rhetoric question earning some groans from Y/N's side. "You know why I call you angel, baby?"

"Why?" Her voice was soft, breath hitching as she began bouncing on Harry's cock more now that he had slowed his pace.

"Because the first time I saw you I thought I was dreaming." Harry said, holding onto her waist. Y/N let out a small moan. "You have this radiation about you, angel. You light up every room you’re in."

"Fuck..." Y/N cursed under her breath. "I can't— I need more, please, please..."

Harry groaned at the sheer desperation in her voice, pulling out to switch positions and laying Y/N on her back. When he entered her again, he didn't waste much time before pounding into her.

"Needed this angel? Needed me so bad, huh?" He asked, watching Y/N's eyes roll back as she tried to hold onto anything she could in order not to fall off the couch.

"Harry— oh my god!" She cried out helplessly, clawing onto his chest and arms. She wrapped her legs around Harry's torso, and he leaned forward to go even deeper, his cross chain dangling above her mouth.

Harry about lost it when she took the chain between her teeth and used it to pull him closer before putting her lips on his. All the sounds that left their mouths entered each other, their pleasure flowing between bodies like a steady wave.

Harry wasn't surprised that Y/N stopped kissing him, having felt her clench around his hard cock. She couldn't even get a word out, but Harry knew enough.

"C'mon angel, come for me." He growled, beginning to chase his own high as Y/N came around him.

Harry's orgasm followed not long after, and he was quick to pull out, his seed coating her lower stomach. Both were breathing heavily, not really speaking to each other as they came down from their highs. After a minute or two, Harry leaned forward and planted a kiss on Y/N's forehead before getting up from the couch.

Y/N was too dazed to say anything about it, but she didn't have to wait long before Harry returned with paper towels to clean up the mess he made. He praised her casually as he wiped her stomach clean.

When he was done, he pulled her to sit up straight on the couch and got a glass of water for the both of them. Again, Y/N could only nod. He sat back down, handing one of the glasses to the girl next to him and watched her take some big sips before grabbing the glasses again and putting it back on the table. He was shocked when Y/N suddenly spoke up.

"I think I'm gonna quit my job." She said, staring at the wall in front of her. Harry put down his drink as well, re-positioning himself on the couch so he was sitting towards her.

"Y/N..." He was speechless. Seeing the look on her face, hearing those words come out of her mouth, it hurt him to see her like that. She finally turned to look at him.

"I can't... I can't be in the same space as him." She looked down at her fiddling hands, and Harry spotted the tears welling in her eyes. "I'm just so afraid all the time."

Fuck.

He didn't know how much quicker he could've pulled her into a hug. Y/N didn't particularly hug him back, but she rested her head on his shoulder as she accepted his embrace.

"I'm sorry." Y/N mumbled, barely cohesive as her words were muffled by Harry's shoulder. He pulled away from the hug. "I didn't meant to ruin the vibe."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He reminded her, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me."

Y/N sighed. "It's gonna be hard as shit to find a new job here, though."

It was so incredibly unfair that Y/N had to be the one to switch jobs. Harry's jaw clenched. "Are you sure you don't want to talk to HR? They might be able to do something."

Y/N shook her head. "I don't have proof."

"Sexual harassment isn't about proof. If someone makes you uncomfortable, whether they intend to or not, that is sexual harassment." Harry said. He had a zero tolerance policy at the gym, and unfortunately had a sexual harassment situation once at work when a personal trainer kept making inappropriate comments towards one of the cleaners. He was very thankful that the woman felt safe enough to inform him, and he hated that Y/N didn't have that.

"It's complicated. I went on a date with him, that doesn't make me look very good." She replied. The look in her eyes was hopeless, and it scared him that this situation had been draining her so much.

"I still think you should consider it." Harry insisted anyway, hoping she would keep the option in the back of her mind at the very least.

Y/N shrugged. "I'll see."

The silence loomed over the both of them, and Harry didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort her, tell her all the right things she wanted to hear. But he wasn't sure what she did or didn't want to hear.

Instead, Harry leaned forward, his hand cupping her jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting towards his hand. In turn, his stomach fluttered.

"You're going to be okay, no matter what." He assured her. Sure, he didn't know what she was going to do or how everything was going to turn out, but he felt very strongly that things would be fine.

"Thank you." Y/N whispered sweetly, her eyes still closed.

Harry smiled. She looked safe now.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove@bitchidontpost @lomlolivia @harringtonhundreds @fruit-harry

[idyllwave]

30 MILLION TO 1

yandere!phainon x fem!reader | part i. π

he wanted peace, if only for just one cycle, but did he even deserve that sentiment? well, someone thought he did, at least.

word count | ~2.7k

cw | angst , death , yandere!phainon , 30 million cycles , grammatical errors , etc.

the drabble that inspired this fic.

“I’m going to check out this stellaron reading, and then I’ll be back before either of you know it!”

You had a smile on your lips as you made a quick game plan to shoot at Welt and Himeko. The two, of course, being less than thrilled to send you on your merry way.

“Y/n… we really don’t want to send you on your own.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve been on my own before with these types of missions and I always come back a-ok! Besides Dan Heng and March are busy going to the Herta Space Station. And you two need to back them up.”

“But that will leave you with no back up-“

“We’ve been through worse. Besides, all I need to do is get the stellaron and come right back. Easy-peasy.”

Welt and Himeko looked to one another before both of them relented.

“Just…be careful,” Welt finally said.

“I always am. I’ll be back before anyone knows it!”

You waved to them as you left to your room to prepare for your hopefully short journey, and after borrowing a single train car, you were on your merry way, but like all promises that you make as a trailblazer – things never go as planned as you find yourself stranded on another planet, your communications being cut off and useless, and your transportation being rendered as a safety hazard.

“Out of all the times that I promise nothing bad is going to happen, of course something goes wrong when I don’t have any means of getting backup…,” you muttered to yourself. Whether it be good or bad fortune, you found yourself on a world you didn’t know the name of and were thankfully able to blend in with the crowd as you found the nearest city and got a change of clothes to match the people around you. And with a few quick conversations here and there you learned some key details…

They were isolated and didn’t know that space travel existed, they have these beings called titans, the world is on the brink of destruction, and there is a prophecy highlighting a group of heroes that are to save the world.

“Chrysos Heirs,” you asked, “I don’t think I ever seen one in person,” you said as a girl you were talking to giggled a littler and pointed towards the entrance of the city you were in, “see the man entering now,” she asked. You followed her pointer finger. Your gaze landing on a white haired man – but his whole appearance caused you to frown. He looked so … beaten down. Was it normal for Chrysos Heirs to look like that?

“Well, he isn’t a Chrysos Heir yet, but I hear that he will be soon! His name is Phainon and he helps out anyone and everyone!”

You watched carefully for a moment. You saw the way people crowded him as he walked forward, but it didn’t seem like he was in any shape to listen. You stood up from your spot on the bench and followed after him – the confused questions from the girl you were talking to fading in the distance.

His feet felt like heavy weighted stone, but he still managed to drag himself into the inner part of the city. People greeted him, others stopped him to ask for help. An emergency here. An emergency there. Like clockwork he could already guess what each person was after and what they wanted from him. He remembered their faces, their names, their past present and future requests. He remembered them all dying and how he wasn’t able to save anyone. Their screams as fresh on his mind as they were in the past one thousand cycles. And he was tired.

He could feel how tired he was when he got to a fountain, his body collapsing as he sat on the edge of it, head hung low as he rested his elbows on his thighs. He knew he had to try harder. That he needed to try a different approach to somehow stop all the future destruction that was going to happen, but … maybe in this one cycle…he can rest. Maybe just be elsewhere. Travel to a new place. Be someone else-

“Are you alright?”

Almost like a saving grace, someone had called out to him, but truthfully he didn’t want to reach out – he didn’t want to answer. Just for a little bit, he did not want to be asked of anything, needed for anything, or be expected of anything. So with his silence, he hoped this person would go away.

They didn’t.

Instead, they sat next to him, their arm wrapping around his shoulders as they pulled him in and he felt himself leaning into their chest. Soft and warm was the only way he could describe how this person felt right now. And before he could say anything, they had raised their other hand and gently ran their fingers through his hair. Their nails carding along his scalp. He didn’t know if he hated or liked how disarming he felt at that moment. How safe he felt. He decided to keep his eyes closed and relax in this person’s hold. While momentarily thinking of who it could be. Mydei wouldn’t be this soft, Aglaea was too stoic, Castorice is unable to touch others, Hyacine is too short, Cipher wouldn’t bother, and Anaxa doesn’t have the physique.

So why would an ordinary citizen treat him like this? Why would they even care?

When he got the courage to ask, the person started to sing a soft, quiet lullaby – their voice soothing to his ears as he relaxed again.

It wasn’t unnatural for strangers to comfort each other here, especially since the battles have been getting more frequent and even worse lately, but it just surprises him that someone would even bother to comfort him. Wasn’t there a child in need of this sort of comfort more than him? Wasn’t there someone more deserving of such care and attention? What has he even done to warrant such kindness anyway?!

“We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

For as long as he wants? He hated how his chest tightened, how his throat closed up, how his eyes stung behind his eyelids, and how tears threatened to escape from the corners of his eyes. A hero doesn’t cry. Not like this.

And just when a tear escaped, the person who was holding him had wiped it away before anyone walking past could notice. As if it didn’t even happen. They didn’t even say anything about it either. Like a hushed secret between the both of them.

It wasn’t until the sun hung high that Phainon gently pulled away and finally looked over.

3141592. The current number of which cycle he was on flashed through his mind as he looked at you. His eyes mapping out the curves of your lips, the slope of your nose, the way your eyes crinkled with a sort of soft kindness as you looked back at him.

“Feeling better?”

Your voice fit with your face perfectly.

“I- uhm”

And it definitely wasn’t normal for him to be so tongue tied either.

“I’m better, thank you…”

You gave him your name as you held out your hand to him, which he happily took. Your palm was soft – silk smooth without a single callous. When was the last time he held someone’s hand to just, well…, hold it?

“Anytime,” you said.

“Really?”

He meant the word to come out as teasing as he was trying to get his usual air of confidence back. As if trying to get the mask on again.

“Of course, anytime you need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be here.”

Out of all the cycles he’s been in, all the cycles he went through, he never met you – never even seen you before. But he was grateful for it now. This chance meeting between cycles.

“I’ll be sure to hold you to it then,” he said as he stood up while pulling you up as well as he still had your hand in his grip, “however, I would like to meet with you again, not for this reason though.”

You nodded, “I would like that Phainon. How about later this week?”

“How about tomorrow?”

Did he sound too eager?

You didn’t seem to mind as you agreed which he was very much grateful for, “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said.

“Tomorrow for sure.”

To be honest, you didn’t expect that you would be comforting someone who you had heard was a hero to the people, but you figured that even heroes need to be saved. Especially considering that when you saw him enter the city he had looked as if he had lost everything without losing anything at all. It was a look that made your heart weep. A look that reminded you of a poor kicked puppy. You wanted to make sure that that look never showed up on his face again, and all too quickly tomorrow had come, and you wondered how you would meet Phainon again. Neither of you really said where you would meet or at what time either. So you set off for that familiar fountain early in the morning. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do today anyway.

And much to your surprise, Phainon was already there waiting.

His smile seemed to light up the surrounding area as he crossed the remaining distance to meet you. There was a bounce in his step, his shoulders were squared, his posture was straight, and his whole demeanor seemed so much more lighter than yesterday. It made you smile.

“Good morning,” he sounded breathless as if he had ran to meet you.

“Good morning to you too… did you get done training or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said with a laugh as he raised his hadn to scratch the back of his head, “and now that we are meeting like this … I actually have no idea what we should do from here.”

Your eyes crinkled and smile widened in a way that made his heart hit hard in his chest. You reached for his hand, and gently tugged him to follow you, “good thing I already thought up some stuff for us to do and see then, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

Did he deserve this? Probably not. But it wasn’t going to stop him from enjoying it anyway. And he learned a lot about you in that single day. He couldn’t stop himself from memorizing every single detail. He knew he shouldn’t, but … it was difficult not to. Not when you make yourself so likable. Of course, he knew you weren’t doing it on purpose. It was just the type of person you were.

Before he could stop himself, he asked you to hangout tomorrow, and the day after, and even the day after that as well. It became a recurring cycle where he just couldn’t let you go – no matter how hard he tried to tell himself that he had to and that he didn’t deserve your kindness, care, or attention. However, soon, he stopped listening to that nagging part of his mind and had begun to latch onto you without mercy.

He followed you around like a lost puppy. Looked to you for attention and validation. Sometimes he would even ignore the pleas of others if it meant getting to you faster. You were becoming his destruction.

And he wanted to hasten the process even more. Even when the days with you turned into weeks and weeks turned into years. He didn’t let you pull away even as he became a Chrysos Heir.

Tribbie giggled behind her hand as she looked up at Phainon, “you should confess to her!”

“Huh,” Phainon snapped his head to her.

“You two aren’t getting any younger.”

“And someone else may sweep her off her feet before you do,” Castorice interjected quickly as she stood a little off to the side. Phainon huffed. Never in any of the previous cycles did he have to deal with this type of conversation. It was taking him off his game.

“Someone else… huh?”

He was confident that no one could compare to him and he knew your schedule like the back of his hand. You weren’t seeing anyone. In fact, he knew you were getting off work and heading his way right now. And there was, of course, another reason too...

“I’m sure there isn’t anyone else,” he finally said and Castorice shook her head, “you don’t know that.”

But he did. Your friends beside himself weren’t confident enough to dig up any buried feelings they might have, no one dared to come up to you when he was around, and yes there was Mydei, but the immortal man had no interest in you as far as he was aware.

“You two worry too much,” he finally said and before either of them could say anything else you had called out to him from a distance causing him to look over and smile as you raised your hand to wave at him.

“Now, if you’ll both excuse us.”

He turned back towards you and went to meet you halfway.

“Y/n!”

He smiled at you as he opened his arms and grabbed you into a hug, “how was work? Anything exciting happen? That same customer still bothering you? Did you eat? Hydrate? Need to sit down somewhere-?”

You hushed him by standing on your tippy toes and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Yeah … that was another reason why you wouldn’t go for anyone else. Phainon already took you for himself, and it took a lot in him to not turn around and give the two an ‘I told you so’ look.

“I’m fine, Phainon,” you said with a laugh against his lips before pulling away, I’m just happy to see you now. You reached for one of his hands to hold when he let you go from his hug, “now, let’s go home. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course!”

He turned to look back at Tribbie and Castorice and … as expected, the two didn’t see that kiss coming. He smirked at them and gave them a polite wave goodbye. Sure his friends didn’t know about his relationship with you, but he also wasn’t keeping it a secret either. He just- didn’t like other people seeing your cute side was all.

Anyway…, he knew you weren’t actually tired. You were only saying that so he could rest and take a breather since he has been on a few tough missions lately.

Like most days, your shared home was filled with books stacked on the coffee table in the living room, each and every title ranged from mythical tales of space travel and new worlds. He always thought it was cute how interested you were in fantasy novels like that. Though, sometimes when he looked at you, he wondered if there was more to the story. Like the clothes you keep hidden in the box under the bed. He already sifted through them and they weren’t anything like the clothing styles he was used to seeing. Then there was your phone. It was locked by a password, but he swore the home page image was of a pitch black sky littered with stars. Where you could have taken the picture couldn’t have been anywhere here. And with the way you acted to information you didn’t know about this place was also another dead giveaway and it would also explain why he never met you before.

Just thinking about how you could be from another world excited him to no end. With this theory in mind, he wondered why he didn’t see you in previous cycles … probably because you traveled to other places on this world – he was sure of it.

If the next cycle were to happen, he wondered how he could find you again. Would you be drawn to him? Remember him maybe? He hoped you would. But if you didn’t, then that was alright too. He could always find you. In fact, tracking you through the city was easy. Especially since you didn’t wander off to unknown places or mingle with shady characters. It definitely made things easier.

“You really like these books, huh?”

Like always, Phainon did try to see if he could pry the information from you gently, so he could get that little confirmation that yes you were not from this world.

“I do!”

As expected, you never did give anything away. He couldn’t be mad though. It’s not like he told you about the cycles or about his home either. He actually quite liked how you two had things right now. A simple life where he could enjoy a little peace. Though, that wasn’t going to stop him from taking even more from you in the next cycle.

“Can you read to me?”

He posed the question gently, in that sweet tone that he knew would disarm you. Not that you ever denied him before. He knew you could say no, but he liked how you never said no to him.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

PRETTY FACE

bau team x liaison!reader

Synopsis: As the BAU's communications liaison—with a pretty face—you're in charge of peace. But what happens when you're not feeling so peaceful? Word count: 2.2k WARNING: fluff. but also fem rage lol. a few curses. not proofread oopsie A/N: I'm still rusty, so sorry, my lovelies (; _ ;) but I tried my best I promiseeeee. I missed writing so much <3 let me know what you think!

Three years.

Three years of grueling hours. Three years of sweat and hidden tears. Three years of nonstop compensation for multiple skills you aren't born with.

You take pride in your work. You show up. You follow through.

It's no secret. No surprise. You're a beaut, and you don't feel shy. It's normal. So be damned if you curse the parents who gave you such wonderful genetics. 

But that does not make you just pretty.

If anything, it just makes your learned skills, strong will, and assertiveness much more credible. You're not just beauty, but also brains and brawn.

With that in mind, one shall have the mature intelligence to understand the itch on your palms to smack the shit out of the man right before your eyes.

"We told you that I'll be taking care of the media." You start as you follow behind the local precinct's detective. Might as well call it chasing. He's been walking around like you're a fly he's been trying to ward off.

"Like I said, Miss—" He says that to diminish you. To make you smaller. He ignores the fact. He can't grasp the idea. The truth. That you're not just a pretty face. "—The press was there. I didn't know they were going to ask questions that can make things worse." Oh, yes, he did. A liar. And a bad one, too.

That is exactly why the plan is solid. To have you right on the podium, fighting the urge to blink from the flashes. The plan is preventative. To keep the UnSub from thinking that they are winning. 

You manage to keep your eyes from rolling, subtly grinding your teeth. "And we made the plan for that certain reason. I'm used to questions that we have to avoid. I'm more skilled in—"

"Are you saying I'm incapable? That you're better than me?"

His voice rises. Loud enough to shut the entire precinct up. Loud enough to get your team's attention. To prompt judgment and, worse, to make you seem weak.

"You're twisting my words, Detective. I'm telling you what I'm trained for and why we're making use of that advantage." It's simple. It's clear. A grade school level of intelligence can understand just what you said.

But the issue remains the same.

You can't teach someone to fish if their goal is to hunt.

"Listen, doll face. I'm not going to let my city live in false hope by some chick."

If the silence isn't deafening enough, his words are. They exploded like a bomb made to leave you into fine dust.

Three years.

Three years of constant backlash to the idea that a communications liaison can do more than just pick up the phone and connect two vessels of justice into one.

That's why you chose to stay in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They give you the freedom to do your job. They aren't filled with cheap people who'll mansplain as simple as using a copier. 

Three years, and you learned a lot. You learned your role and their role. You learned how to read, observe, and listen.

So, you know just how much the team filters you from violence. You know how much the BAU team expects less from you when it comes to battling UnSubs. Or going against prideful local detectives, police officers, and more. 

You knew, but you didn't mind. Because despite that, you knew they cared for you dearly. Respected the hard work you put in. Wanted your job to be as easy as possible.

Today, however, is a different story. You're not about to let the team fight your battle. Not when it's with a guy like him. Not when you know damn well how crucial the case is. Not when you're more than some chick he tries to insist you as.

As usual, Hotch is about to step in when gasps echo throughout the room. He stopped in his tracks, bolting his feet on the tiled floor. Maybe even wide-eyed.

Swift.

One swift pull on the detective's tie and the height difference between the two of you shifts. You glower at him as if it’s a crime to be the type of person that he is. And in the back of your mind, you agree.

He's sitting on a chair now. Your left foot is between his thighs. The point of your heels sits three inches from his crotch like a gun to his sorry proof of manhood. 

And even with the stretch, you're nowhere looking lewd despite wearing a skirt. Emily thinks you look badass. Her wide grin can testify to that.

"It's Agent." You announce softly. So soft that the back of Derek's neck shivers in fear. "And if it weren't for this chick's team, another dead body would’ve made your city much, much worse."

Fire spreads inside your body. Rage seeps in. A strong rope that finally snaps. 

“Should we stop the kid?” Rossi asks lowly without batting an eye. He’s worried that if he blinks, you’ll turn into a criminal he can’t bear to catch. 

Hotch only shakes his head in response. Nonetheless, he moves one step every five seconds. Steadily approaching a lion to tame her. It’s not that he thinks you need taming. It’s the fact that he has no idea how to. You’ve never snapped before. The team is at a loss for words.

The grip you have on the detective’s tie can easily choke him then and there. But one thing you're great at is control.

Terrifying control, that is.

"So unless you cooperate, I'm not afraid to pack up and pull us off this messy case." You lightly tug him closer. You watch as a bead of sweat run down the side of his face. "And if you think you can drag our hands into the mud. You'll have your hands dirty all by yourself, because I'm damn great at keeping ours clean. Do I make myself clear, Detective?"

No one’s ever thought it’s possible to mock a worthy title such as detective, but you’re as shocked as everybody else.

How far can your beauty get you? The answer is nowhere, but he doesn’t need to know that. He's already too busy blinding himself from the fact that you're not just that. What more is tricking him into thinking it can get you farther?

A light hand lands on your shoulder. You turn to find Rossi with an unreadable expression. It's his way to pull you back to reality, to calm you down.

Hotch reaches for your hand on the detective's tie. "I think he understands," He insists. Stern but not harsh. More of a plea if you had to say so yourself.

Then, again, he’s always been confident with his words that most of them turn into law, which the entire team abides by without question.

Your hand lets go of the tie, blinking as if you’d been possessed, overwhelmed with rage. Tension dissipates from your body. The furrowed brows on your forehead finally separate.

"JJ and Morgan are going back to the dump site. Go with them."

An order.

Cool off, then we’ll talk later. That’s what Hotch meant, and you know it by heart, considering the amount of times you heard him utter the same words to the team.

It’s first for you, though. So it stings. Embarrassing, for lack of a better word. Part of you knew it was coming. It’s not you to step over a line you know you’re not allowed to cross. Still, it doesn’t change the suffocating feeling in your chest. 

You nod and turn around. Your fists clench so tight crescent indentations sting your palms. Even Rossi's gentle tap on your back didn't make you feel better.

You'd done it.

You broke their trust.

Who are you to say those things anyway? You're just a communications liaison. You have no power.

You can’t even bear to look up ahead to where the others stood. You're afraid that the indifferent looks on their faces will be the final blow.

Despite that, another feeling brews. It creeps right from the marrow of your bones. 

Disappointment. 

A feeling so familiar you can’t bear to feel it at all. Not when it comes to the team. Not when it comes to the people you find comfort with.

The detective coughs loudly as if you really did choke him to death. "You better control your liaison, Agent Hotchner. It’s not a good look to have someone rogue in the FBI." He demands. A snide comment about the team’s power. He’s been intimidated from the start, and he chose you to relieve himself of any jealousy that runs in his blood.

What a wimp, you thought. And unbeknownst to you, your team did too.

"Sorry," Your ears perk as soon as it comes out of Hotch's mouth. "I don't control the person that keeps my hands clean. If anything, I give them soap."

You're out of the door before you can even hear more, getting into the driver's seat without realizing your tight grasps on the wheel.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Derek immediately implores as he sits on the passenger seat next to you. “I’m glad I don’t wear neckties that often.”

Tears uncontrollably fill your eyes and soon enough trail down your cheeks. The adrenaline finally crashes down, and you're back to the realization of what just transpired.

You feel JJ's arms around you despite being in the backseat, "Thank you for being there for us. I know how hard it is to be in your position."

And the sobs come second. "Oh, my gosh! I almost choked a detective. What am I supposed to do? I’m just a liaison. I’m going to jail or something." You cry in almost inaudible tangents, earning a chuckle from the other two, to your dismay. “And did Hotch just make a joke about giving me soap? What does that even mean?” You think you’re going insane. Laughing and crying at the same time like a lunatic. 

“Yeah, I think he likes that one lemon scent you brought in the kitchenette,” JJ adds, rubbing your side to calm your senses down. There’s a motherly feeling in the way she tries to comfort you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Derek grabs your hand and places a small tissue pouch. “Listen here, Agent.” He smirks proudly. “You’re not just a liaison. You’re our liaison. The behavioral analysis unit’s communications liaison. You’ve worked more than what your job description says. None of us would be here if you didn’t show up. Do you have any idea how many times the group almost fell apart when JJ left us? Left the role empty? This team needs you.” He ruffles your hair, to which you're quick to swat before grabbing a napkin.

Sobbing in front of the team is a first, too. Albeit just JJ and Derek with you, it feels like all the members somehow know you’re crying like a child, too. 

A phone ring momentarily distracts the three of you. Emily’s name flashes on JJ’s phone. She waves it with a knowing look before putting the call on speaker.

“Yes, Emily?” JJ answers as if to inform Emily that the three of you can hear her.

“[I’m gonna need pointers how to get a man in line.]” Emily starts, clearly talking to you. Though, you don't think she needs any pointers.

“Is that for self-defense or some freaky stuff?” Derek playfully interjects, grinning at the sight of the screen.

You can hear the way Emily rolls her eyes despite not seeing her at all, “[Wouldn’t you like to know, you dog.]” Laughter erupts inside the van. “[Also, I think Reid’s traumatized for life. He’s clearing out the table from all his folders, something about our liaison asking him to stop hogging the table.]” 

The tears stop, then. You shake your head while you wipe under your eyes. “I can’t believe I did something stupid. I’ll have to write a report about this.” You groan, leaning against the headrest.

"If you ask me, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Derek shrugs nonchalantly.  

JJ nods, “You're going to sound crazy if you add that to your report because none of us wants our hands dirty." She bites her lower lip to sound more serious, but it doesn’t help her at all.

“[Oh, guys, here’s Hotch.]” Emily interjects, prompting static from the other end of the line.

Hotch clears his throat, signaling everyone. “[Can you take me off speaker phone for a moment?]” He directs.

JJ passes you her phone, and you step out of the van.

You take a deep breath before attaching the device to your ear, “Hotch? I’m so so—”

“[I’m going to stop you right there, Agent.]” He cuts you off. “[Don’t ever think that defending yourself is a fault. That’s not how I run my—our team.]”

“I know, but I technically assaulted a cop. And technically threatened him.” There’s nothing technical with what happened. You did them exactly as is, and not to be braggy, but you did so with poise and assertiveness.

“[Well, that’s something we can talk about never. I just wanted to give you a formal apology for not stepping in before it even happened. You’re essential to this team. An insult to you is an insult to all of us.]”

It's as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You can breathe better. And the embarrassment completely melts off your skin. Better yet, the disappointment with your team downright disappeared. 

You shouldn’t have doubted them. 

You snap out of your trance when Hotch says your name, “Yeah?”

“[Where do you buy those scented soaps?]”

You bit your lower lip in hopes of keeping your tears from drowning your eyes. You really should’ve known better than to think the team would ever believe you are just a pretty face.

[koogalaxzy]

the veiled prince | j. jungkook

pairing: knight! jungkook x royal! fem. reader

genre: royalty au, smut

wc: 21.4k+

summary: jeon jungkook is anointed as the protector of the kingdom’s future king, but this proves to be a more difficult job when he realizes the crown prince is hiding a big secret.

content warning: explicit sexual content, violence & blood, gender concealment, period-typical sexism, religious themes/sacrilege (blasphemy, sex in sacred space), slight dubcon elements (power imbalance), reference to infant death, mild emotional abuse, parental pressure, alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitution/brothels.

a/n: hiii! *nervous wave* this is my very first jungkook fic, and i’m actually buzzing with nerves rn. i’ve been working on this since last year so i’m rlly excited to finally share it with the world. hope you enjoy! let me know what you guys think in the comments or my inbox <3

The tavern was filled with the sounds of raucous laughter and the scent of ale. The men of the town brigade sat around a big wooden table, their hearty chuckles bouncing off the low ceiling.

“Can’t believe our youngest here’s landed himself a spot in the royal brigade!” Sergeant Lee, a grizzled veteran with a salt-and-pepper beard and a booming voice, clapped Jungkook on the back hard enough to rattle his cup.

Jungkook offered a polite, almost shy smile. “It’s just another post, Sergeant.”

“Just another post, he says!” Lee roared, laughing heartily. “Royal brigade’s not just any post, boy. It’s the post.” He slammed a hand down on the table, the wood groaning under the force. “Best keep that modesty in check, or you’ll make the rest of us look bad.”

“Aye, I remember when he first set foot on the base, half my size, and now look at those arms…” Chuck added, his voice slick with humor. He was a lanky man, with messy blonde hair that hung over his face. His smirk was all charm despite the missing tooth in the front as he tossed a wink at the serving girl who kept casting Jungkook flirtatious glances. “Leave some of the ladies for us, eh?”

“Let’s not celebrate too soon,” Garret muttered, his tone sharp as always. He was stocky, with a broad chest and thick arms, a man whose worn plate armor bore more scratches than anyone here. His gaze flickered to the door, where the wind howled outside, carrying the cold scent of the mountains. “Royal brigade’s no game. You’ll be under different standards from the moment you set foot in that palace.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Here we go. You’d think they were sending him to the gallows.”

Garret ignored him. “I’m just saying… there’s more to that post than guarding a door. And there’s him to deal with.”

Jungkook arched a brow. “Him?”

“The crown Prince,” Jack chimed in, setting his mug down with a loud thud. He was younger than most soldiers but sharp-eyed, his dark hair messy and unkempt, his leather jerkin a little too tight from years of fieldwork. He leaned forward with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Haven’t you heard the whispers? Thought you kept your ears as clean as your boots, Jeon.”

“You know I don’t care about gossip,” Jungkook replied calmly but with a hint of curiosity. it’s true that he didn’t care about rumors, but there was something about this conversation that caught his attention.

Jack leaned forward, his grin widening. “Then you’ve missed the best one. His highness isn’t… like other men. There’s a reason they call him The Veiled Prince.”

Jungkook tilted his head, brow furrowing. “The Veiled Prince? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chuck chuckled, the firelight catching in his eyes as he adjusted his cloak, its deep blue fabric embroidered with the insignia of the kingdom. He didn’t meet Jungkook’s gaze, instead turning his attention to the wooden rafters above. Garret exchanged a glance with Jack before shrugging.

“It means what it sounds like,” Garret said, almost whispering as if the walls themselves might be listening. “He’s not what he seems.”

Jack tapped a finger on the table. “Just take one close look at him and you’ll know somethin’ ain't right. He’s too… delicate. His face, his voice—hell, even his body.”

Jungkook squinted at him, confused but half-amused. “Maybe there’s something you’ve discovered about yourself, Jack… being that interested in how the prince looks,” he joked, nudging Jack with his elbow. 

The table erupted in laughter and Jack leaned back, a sly grin creeping across his face. “You’ll see for yourself soon enough, won’t ya? Spend enough time close to him, and you’ll know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” He raised his mug “Here’s to Jeon Jungkook, the youngest royal guard! May he survive court life without losing his mind.”

The morning of Jungkook’s inauguration into the royal brigade arrived faster than he’d expected. He woke before dawn and pulled on his boots for the long walk to the palace. The soft clack of his steps echoed down the narrow stone path, the world around him still shrouded in that gray hush before sunrise.

Something felt off, though. He couldn’t shake the conversation from last night. Jack’s words about the Prince looping through his mind, stubborn and persistent.

Jungkook had always kept to himself, learned early on to steer clear of gossip and mindless chatter. The other men in the brigade thrived on rumor and speculation, their voices filling every corner with wild stories, but he’d never had the patience for it. It was easier, safer, to stay silent.

Since he’d arrived in this town at the age of seventeen, he had devoted himself entirely to the regimented life of a soldier. There was no room for distractions. No time for the petty squabbles of royalty or the whisperings of court politics. His focus had been on training and on earning his place among the fiercest warriors the kingdom had to offer.

And yet, here he was, on the morning of what was supposed to be the culmination of many years of hard work, and his mind was anything but clear. The royal brigade, the very one most soldiers dreamed of joining, was now within his reach—and yet, his thoughts kept returning to the prince. The Veiled Prince. The very rumors that he'd managed to ignore til now seemed to be clawing at him now, demanding attention. 

Jungkook gritted his teeth as he approached the entrance of the palace. His duty had never been about men of the royal family. It had always been about the honor of serving the kingdom, about proving himself worthy of the rank he’d earned. The others called him a quiet one, distant even, but that had only served him well. The younger recruits often found it difficult to match his drive and focus, and the older soldiers admired his ability to keep his head down and do what was asked of him, no matter the cost. And he meant to keep it that way.

His thoughts drifted back to the prince, but not the rumors this time. He thought of the responsibility the crown prince bore, a burden Jungkook had always respected from afar. His place at court, his family, the weight of an entire kingdom’s future hanging on his shoulders. Jungkook could scarcely imagine it. 

He approached the palace gates, boots scuffing softly against the clean stone path, only to be stopped by two royal guards standing tall in polished armor. Their eyes locked on him immediately—one looked him up and down, the other stepped into his path, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“State your business,” the taller one barked. His tone wasn’t hostile, but it was firm, clearly not his first time turning away overeager boys from the city.

“Jeon Jungkook. I’ve been newly assigned to the royal brigade,” Jungkook replied calmly, though his heart ticked a little faster.

The second guard squinted. “You’re the new brigade recruit?” he repeated slowly. “You sure you’re not here to deliver someone’s breakfast?”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed, but he kept his tone leveled. “Captain Toren is expecting me.”

They exchanged a glance. One of them huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re barely out of your training boots.”

“And pretty enough to be a court musician, not a guard,” the other added under his breath, though not softly enough.

Before Jungkook could respond, another figure stepped out from inside the main doors—an older guard with sharp eyes and a clipped voice. “Is there a reason you’re delaying the newest escort?”

The two guards stiffened immediately, their mockery vanishing. “No, sir!” they echoed.

Jungkook walked past them without a word, though he felt their eyes on his back the whole way.

Before he could step further inside, the older guard who’d reprimanded the others approached him with a slow, assessing gait. He was tall and lean, his silver-streaked beard trimmed to regulation, and his armor bore the faint scuffs of long service.

“You’re Jeon, then?” he asked, voice gravelly but not unkind.

“Yes, sir.”

The man gave a small grunt. “I’m Wrenhart. Lieutenant of the East Wing. Been in this place longer than some of the stonework.” He nodded toward the interior hall. “I’ll escort you to Captain Toren.”

Jungkook gave a sharp nod, falling into step beside him.

As they walked through the tall archways and polished corridors, Wrenhart cast a sideways glance at him. “You’re younger than I expected,” he said plainly. “They’ve got plenty of sharp-eyed recruits, but it’s rare to send one straight to the Prince.”

Jungkook didn’t take the bait. “I go where I’m ordered.”

Wrenhart gave a low chuckle. “Good answer. Just keep that mouth closed and your sword ready. The palace has fewer blades, but more ways to bleed.”

His boots echoed against the pristine stone floor of the main hall, and he instinctively straightened his posture. The space was immaculate, the air tinged with the faint scent of oiled leather. 

A few men were already inside, their movements precise as they adjusted their uniforms or inspected their weapons. Unlike the lively, chaotic energy of his old comrades, the men of the royal brigade seemed quiet and focused.

It was all so… different.

Jungkook felt a twinge of unease as he stepped further into the hall. He’d spent years thriving in the rugged environment of the town’s brigade, where banter and brotherhood masked the grueling demands of their work. Here, the men seemed distant, their camaraderie subdued by formality.

Even their uniforms were different. Much more crisp and tailored, a sharp contrast to the well-worn gear Jungkook was wearing now. He caught his reflection in a polished shield hanging on the wall and suddenly felt out of place. His hair, still slightly disheveled from the early morning wind, and his roughened boots stood out against the pristine order of this place.

Would he fit in?

“Jeon,” a voice called, breaking through his thoughts. He turned sharply to see a tall, broad-shouldered man approaching him, he could guess just by his looks that he was an important man. His expression was calm but piercing as his eyes swept over Jungkook. “I’m Captain Toren. You’re early,” he said, his tone neither harsh nor warm, just efficient. 

“Yes, sir, nice to meet you sir.” Jungkook replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

“Good,” Toren said with a curt nod. “Punctuality is expected here, as is discipline. You’ll find things are different from what you’re used to in the town brigade.” He glanced at Jungkook’s boots, and though he said nothing, the slight raise of his brow made Jungkook acutely aware of the scuffed leather. “But you’ll adapt.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook repeated, though he wasn’t so sure.

As Toren turned and began talking to Wrenhart, Jungkook exhaled slowly, his gaze wandering across the room again. 

As he observed the soldiers around him, a thought struck him. Their restraint, their unwavering discipline, it wasn’t unlike the way he approached his own duties. He had always been more reserved than his mates. Perhaps, in time, he could find his place here. These men didn’t waste words, and neither did he. 

“Jeon, I trust you’ve been thoroughly debriefed on your assignment here by the recruiter,” Captain Toren began, his tone brisk as his boots clapped in a quick pace. “Due to the importance of your post, we can’t spare time to show you around the castle. I expect you to learn as you go.”

Jungkook hurried after him, the captain’s long strides forcing him to half-jog just to keep up. The deeper they moved into the palace, the quieter it got, as though the very stones carried the weight of centuries of secrets. 

“Sir,” Jungkook began, his voicd edged with hesitation, “I was told my post was with the royal guards... to protect the palace and accompany the King during his out-of-town duties.”

Toren didn’t break stride, his sharp gaze fixed ahead. “You’ve been misinformed,” he said curtly. “Your assignment is to protect the crown Prince directly.”

Jungkook nearly stumbled as his mind raced to process the statement. The crown Prince? How could that be his post? He was new and clearly untested at this level. 

“What?” Jungkook blurted out, his voice louder than he’d intended. The captain turned his head slightly, his expression neutral save for the raised eyebrow that conveyed mild disapproval.

“Is there a problem, Jeon?” Toren asked, his voice calm but cool.

“No, sir!” Jungkook replied quickly, his pulse quickening. “I just… Excuse my intrusion, but how can I already be assigned to directly serve someone under the line of succession? I’ve yet to familiarize myself with the royal court.”

Toren stopped abruptly, and Jungkook came to an awkward halt behind him, straightening instinctively. The captain turned, his keen eyes locking on Jungkook’s with an intensity that felt like being measured and weighed.

“Your skills and conduct at the town brigade earned you this position,” Toren said evenly, though there was a faint shift in his tone, a note that hinted at something beyond the words. “We’ve heard great things about you, Jeon. There’s a clear reason why you were the only recruit from your brigade. Your discipline, your ability to focus on the task at hand without distraction—that is what we need.”

Jungkook frowned slightly, unsure if he should respond. There was something in the captain’s choice of words, the way he spoke of focus and distraction, that felt strange. It wasn’t the kind of praise he was used to. Back in the barracks, it was your strength, your swordsmanship, or your guts that got you recognized.

“The crown Prince requires a certain kind of discretion,” Toren continued, his tone neutral but purposeful. “And not everyone is suited for that role. If you feel you aren’t, now is the time to say so.”

The air between them seemed to tighten. Jungkook knew better than to ask what the captain meant, but his curiosity stirred. Discretion? Was that just a polite way of saying he needed to keep his head down and mouth shut? The gossip about the Prince drifted back into his mind, but he shoved them aside. Speculation wasn’t his place.

“No, sir,” Jungkook said firmly, straightening his back. “I will fulfill my duty to the crown Prince.”

Toren’s eyes stayed on him for a moment longer before he nodded once. “Good. Then follow me.”

Jungkook followed him up the staircase. The flight seemed endless, spiraling upward like it reached the heavens themselves. Each landing revealed another stretch of steps, their polished white marble gleaming faintly in the soft light filtering through narrow stained-glass windows.

When they finally stopped, Captain Toren gestured toward a pair of imposing black doors, their surfaces adorned with subtle carvings of intricate vines and heraldic symbols. 

“The Prince is currently in a meeting with the King and the court,” Toren explained as he stood in front of the doors. “We’ll wait here until he’s done. Once introduced, you’ll accompany him to his duties for the day.”

“Understood,” Jungkook replied as calmly as he could.

He couldn’t help but feel a mounting sense of unease—no, not unease. Awe, perhaps. The sheer weight of the role he was about to step into, was almost suffocating. It wasn’t every day that a common soldier was thrust so close to the royal family, and certainly not so soon after arriving at the brigade.

The Captain’s reasoning earlier had been logical, but incomplete. There was more to this assignment than his discipline or skills, though it wasn’t his place to question further. Still, the doubt gnawed at him. Why only him? Why now?

His thoughts churned as they waited, time seeming to stretch and warp in the cavernous silence of the hall. The muted murmur of voices behind the heavy doors was barely audible. Jungkook adjusted his stance, willing his nerves to still. Whatever his assignment entailed, he had to appear composed. 

After what felt like an eternity, the great black doors creaked open, revealing a flood of richly dressed courtiers spilling out into the corridor. Their fine silks and embroidered velvets brushed past him as they moved in hushed conversations, their faces a mixture of poise and exhaustion. Jungkook stood at attention, his eyes fixed forward, though he couldn’t help but feel out of place amid such finery.

Then, from the back of the group, a figure emerged.

The King.

The man’s presence filled the space effortlessly, his broad shoulders draped in a robe of deep blue trimmed with gold. His expression was calm, yet commanding, the kind of look that left no room for doubt about his authority. As the king passed, Jungkook bowed slightly.

But it wasn’t the King who held Jungkook’s attention when he straightened back.

Behind him, moving with a quieter grace, was the Prince.

Jungkook’s breath caught. He had seen the Prince before but it was mostly glimpses from afar during public ceremonies or images in portraits hung in the barracks. But this was different. Up close, the rumors that had once seemed exaggerated now felt startlingly real.

The Prince was petite, his frame almost fragile under the soft folds of his ceremonial attire. His features were striking in a way that defied conventional expectations of masculinity: high cheekbones, a finely sculpted nose, and full lips that looked so soft. But it was his eyes that drew Jungkook in. They were wide, framed with dark, long lashes, and impossibly expressive.

For a moment, their gazes locked. The Prince’s eyes flicked up to Jungkook’s, studying him with curiosity. It wasn’t scrutiny, but more like a fleeting assessment, a glance that seemed to measure him without judgment. Jungkook felt rooted to the spot, caught in the subtle pull of that gaze.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t this.

The Prince’s beauty wasn’t just unusual, it was disarming. It made sense now, why the court whispered, why the people gossiped. Standing before him, Jungkook could almost understand how someone might mistake him for something other than what he was.

Jungkook swallowed hard, breaking the spell. His jaw tightened as he schooled his features into neutrality, reminding himself that this was no time to indulge in those thoughts. 

“Jeon!” the Captain said sharply, motioning him forward. Jungkook nodded, stepping forward with purposeful strides.

Toren addressed the King and Prince with a bow so fluid it seemed rehearsed to perfection. “Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness,” he began, his tone deferential. “This is Jeon Jungkook, the newest recruit of the royal brigade. He will be serving Your Highness directly. Despite his youth, he has been highly decorated for his exemplary skills on the battlefield—”

The king raised a hand, a simple gesture that silenced Toren mid-sentence. 

“I am already acquainted with his reputation,” the King said, his gaze sharp as it settled on Jungkook. “You are the one who aided in reclaiming the Lowlands, are you not? Yes… I recall the reports. Remarkable work for one so young.”

Jungkook bowed low, his heart pounding in his chest. “Your Majesty, it was an honor to serve.”

The King’s expression softened just enough to show a flicker of approval. “And now, you are entrusted with the protection of the crown Prince. A task of no small consequence. See to it that you are equal to the duty.”

Before Jungkook could utter a reply, the King turned with the unhurried grace of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. His robe swept across the floor as he walked away, speaking over his shoulder. “Toren, you are dismissed. The Prince will brief him further.”

Captain Toren bowed deeply. “As you will, Your Majesty.” Straightening, he added, “Your Highness, I shall leave you in capable hands.”

The Captain gave a curt nod before following the King. Jungkook stood there, momentarily frozen, feeling the vastness of the hall closing in around him. He clenched his fists lightly, willing himself to focus. 

He dared to glance at the Prince, who stood observing him without a word. The Prince’s bearing was every bit as regal as one might expect, but there was an inscrutable quality that made him seem untouchable. His attire, rich in dark blues and silvers, was impeccably tailored, but it only enhanced the delicacy of his frame and the fine structure of his face.

The Prince’s gaze lingered on Jungkook for a moment longer before he hummed softly, a sound neither dismissive nor approving, and then turned.

Jungkook followed obediently, falling into step just behind him. 

“What is your name?” the Prince asked, breaking the silence. The sound of his voice startled Jungkook slightly. It was softer and lighter than he’d imagined.

Jungkook hesitated for a second. “Jeon, Your Royal Highness.”

The Prince stopped abruptly, glancing over his shoulder with a look of mild reproach. “No,” he said, his tone almost indulgent, as though correcting a child.  “Your given name. What is it?”

Jungkook stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the question. “It’s Jungkook, Your Highness.”

The Prince turned fully, his expression softening into something faintly amused. “Jungkook…” he repeated, almost as though testing the sound of it. His lips curved into a faint smile that made Jungkook’s stomach tighten unexpectedly. “Very well. You shall address me as ‘Your Highness’ when required, but you needn’t do so with every sentence. I have no need for overdone pleasantries.”

Jungkook blinked, unsure how to respond. “Yes, Your Highness,” he said anyway, earning a slight chuckle from the Prince.

As they continued down the hallway, Jungkook followed closely, his eyes occasionally drifting to the Prince’s profile. There was something almost ethereal about him, a lightness that seemed at odds with the gravitas of his station. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, and Jungkook wondered if it was coming from the Prince or the castle itself. 

The day stretched on endlessly into a slow and languid rhythm that Jungkook hadn’t expected. His first glimpse into royal life had been eye-opening, though not in the way he expected. For all the grandeur and prestige, the day’s proceedings were mind-numbingly dull.

By mid-day, Jungkook found himself struggling to keep his focus from wandering. The halls, while beautiful, began to blur together in their sameness with its gold inlays and towering arches. The endless meetings, each one echoing the last, left him yearning for the brisk efficiency of the town brigade.

The Prince, however, seemed unfazed by the monotony. He carried out his duties with a serene elegance that both impressed and baffled Jungkook. There was a calmness in the way the Prince moved through the day, as though he were immune to the weariness that tugged at everyone else. His voice remained patient even during the most repetitive discussions, addressing each advisor with the same respect.

It wasn’t until the afternoon meeting with the townspeople that the day took on a semblance of life. The grand chamber was transformed, its imposing walls softened by the presence of ordinary villagers who had come to voice their concerns. Jungkook stood behind the Prince, his posture rigid, but his focus sharpened by the shift in energy.

The Prince’s demeanor also changed subtly as the first villager stepped forward. His previously restrained expression softened, his dark eyes warming with an attentiveness that felt genuine. For the first time that day, Jungkook saw a spark of life in him.

When a farmer approached, bowing low as he spoke of the Prince’s help with irrigation for the season’s crops, the monarch’s entire face lit up.

“Your efforts have been tireless, Your Highness,” the farmer said, his voice tinged with gratitude. “We’ve never seen such bountiful yields. My family and I can’t thank you enough.”

The Prince inclined his head gracefully. “The success of your fields speaks to your diligence as much as the Palace’s aid,” he replied, his tone light but earnest. “Still, it gladdens me to know that we’ve been of some help to you.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but notice the way the Prince’s shoulders relaxed with each expression of thanks, as if the villagers’ words were a balm against the otherwise dull repetition of his duties. The praise seemed to energize him in a way no formal meeting or courtly discussion could.

Another villager—a young woman clutching a small child—stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she thanked the Prince for providing medical supplies during a recent outbreak of illness in her village. The Prince listened intently, nodding with quiet encouragement as she spoke.

“We are fortunate to have such a compassionate leader,” she finished, bowing deeply.

Jungkook observed the Prince, taking in the quiet pride in his expression, the way he lingered just a moment longer as he assured the woman her thanks was unnecessary. It was subtle, but Jungkook felt something about the Prince’s connection to these people was different from the polished indifference he showed in the court meetings.

When one elderly woman clasped her hands and tearfully thanked him for providing seed grain during the last drought, Jungkook caught the faintest flicker of a smile on the Prince’s lips. It was quick but genuine, and it lit his delicate features in a way that momentarily silenced the soldier’s restless thoughts.

By the end of the day, it was Jungkook’s duty to escort the Prince safely to his chambers. As part of his routine, he was to stand watch outside until another member of the royal brigade relieved him for the night. Come morning, he would resume his post as the Prince’s shadow.

The corridors were quiet at this hour, their stillness broken only by their footsteps. Dim sconces cast flickering shadows against the walls, lending the space an almost eerie air. Jungkook kept his pace only a step behind the Prince, who moved with his usual grace… at least at first.

He noticed something peculiar then. The Prince’s gait, which had been smooth the whole day, was off. His steps were uneven and his shoulders sagged as though carrying an invisible weight. As Jungkook drew closer, he caught the faint sound of labored breathing.  

“Your Highness, are you well?” Jungkook asked.  

“Yes, perfectly fine,” the Prince replied sharply, though the strain in his voice betrayed the words. He quickened his pace, forcing Jungkook to keep up. “Let’s hurry,” he added, his tone clipped but tinged with urgency.  

Jungkook frowned, his instincts flaring. Something wasn’t right. The prince’s complexion appeared pale, almost ashen. His breathing grew more ragged with every step, and for a moment, Jungkook thought the Prince might collapse before they reached the chamber doors.  

When they arrived, the Prince pushed the heavy wooden doors open and disappeared inside without so much as a backward glance. Jungkook hesitated outside. He wasn’t sure if he should remain at his post or wait for further instruction.

Just as he was debating, the door creaked open again. The Prince reappeared, his face now alarmingly pale, almost bluish, and his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Find Lady Evra,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, the Prince closed the door once more, leaving a confused Jungkook staring at the polished wood.  

He cursed inwardly. He had no idea who Lady Evra was or where to find her.  

With no better option, Jungkook set off down the corridor. His eyes scanned for any sign of staff, his mind racing through every scrap of information he’d gathered about the palace since his arrival. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spotted a young servant carrying a tray of linens.  

“You—wait!” Jungkook called out, his tone urgent but controlled. The servant froze, wide-eyed as Jungkook approached “The Prince has requested someone named Lady Evra. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll fetch her right away,” she said before hurrying off in the opposite direction, the linens swaying precariously in her arms.

Jungkook retraced his steps to the Prince’s chambers, resuming his post by the door. He hesitated for a moment before raising his voice just enough to be heard through the thick wood. “Your Highness, I’ve sent someone to call for Lady Evra. She should arrive shortly.”

There was no response from inside, only the faint sound of movement. Jungkook stood stiffly at attention, his sharp eyes fixed on the door. His hand rested instinctively on the hilt of his sword.

After a few minutes, Jungkook saw a group of servants approaching hurriedly. Leading them was a woman who exuded an air of authority. She was dressed in what resembled a maid's attire, but hers was of a richer fabric and a distinct color. From the way she carried herself, Jungkook could only assume she was the head of the royal attendants.

When her sharp gaze fell on him, she slowed her stride, clearing her throat. Her eyes locked onto his with a look of immediate distrust.  

“And who might you be?” she asked warily.

“I’m the Prince’s new charge, ma’am,” Jungkook replied evenly. “I began my post today.”  

Lady Evra’s brow arched in suspicion. “New charge, you say? Strange. I was not informed of such a change.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t dwell on it. “Regardless, you are dismissed. The night watch will take over from here.”  

“With all due respect, ma’am,” Jungkook said carefully, “protocol dictates that I remain until the next guard arrives. Leaving now would mean leaving His Highness unprotected.”  

Her expression hardened, and she stepped closer, her voice dropping into a sharp whisper. “I can assure you the Prince will be fine in my care. Now, do as you’re told.”  

Without waiting for his reply, she brushed past him, her shoulder nearly grazing his. As she entered the chamber, Jungkook caught a fleeting glimpse inside. The Prince was hunched over on the bed, his face obscured. Then the door shut firmly in his face.  

Jungkook stood there for a moment, jaw tightening. He reminded himself why he was chosen for this position: his ability to follow orders without prying. He exhaled slowly, shaking off his unease. Whatever was happening in that room was not his concern.  

Inside the room, the air was tense as Lady Evra worked deftly, her fingers unlacing the corset that had tormented the Prince all day.  

“I’ve said this countless times, this wretched contraption no longer fits!”  you hissed, your voice strained as you finally freed yourself from the suffocating garment. “I’ve been wearing the same corset since I was sixteen. I cannot endure it any longer.”  

Lady Evra’s expression remained composed. “Your Highness, you know you must wear it. I’ll do my best to have it adjusted.”

“It’s useless,” you countered, exhaling deeply. “My mother won’t allow you to leave any room for my natural shape to show. How does she expect me to fulfill my duties when I can’t even take a full breath?”

You moved toward the tall mirrors lining the chamber wall, your gaze sharp as you scrutinized your reflection. Each year, your form became more pronounced, and with it, the corset grew more punishing.  

“And what of this new knight?” you said, turning away from the mirror. “Why replace Sir Alric? And with this boy from the town, no less. He probably now thinks the Prince is sickly and will soon share whatever nonsense he concocts with his mates.” You sighed, letting the maids step in to prepare you for the evening’s rest.  

“If I may, Your Highness,” one of the younger maids ventured as she led you to the waiting bath. The warm, perfumed water enveloped you, the milky lather soothing your strained muscles. You gave a slight nod, allowing her to continue.  

“There are whispers among the palace staff,” she said cautiously, her tone respectful but firm. “The new guard, they say, is no ordinary recruit. He is highly decorated, despite his age. He’s also not bred here, and, according to what I’ve gathered, he’s a man of few words”

Lady Evra, clicked her tongue. “He was standing outside like a watchdog! Refused to leave even after I dismissed him. Stubborn as a mule.” She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on him. If he’s strange, I’ll speak to Toren and have him out of here in less than a day.”

You sighed, sinking deeper into the warm water, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. “Do as you see fit, Evra. Just ensure he keeps his mouth shut and stays out of my way.”

The days following the corset incident were nothing short of exhausting. Every interaction with Jungkook felt like walking a tightrope—your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and his calm, dutiful presence only served to fuel your frustration. It was unbearable. Everywhere you turned, there he was standing guard by your door, shadowing your steps through the halls, his eyes always watchful. You hated it. You hated him—or so you kept telling yourself.

"Must you always hover?" You snapped one afternoon as you walked through the palace gardens. "I can breathe without you monitoring every step I take, you know."

Jungkook, walking a respectful distance behind you, replied smoothly. "It’s my duty to ensure your safety, Your Highness."

You spun on your heel, glaring at him. "My safety? From what, exactly? The murderous rose bushes? The treacherous cobblestones? Or are you afraid I’ll trip over my own feet and die?"

His face remained impassive, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. "I take my role seriously, Your Highness. If my presence offends you, I’ll adjust my distance."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "It’s not your distance… it’s your attitude. You act as if I’m some fragile doll that’ll shatter at the slightest inconvenience. I survived before you came along. I’ll survive after you’re gone."

For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching you with those wide, unreadable eyes. Then, with a slight bow of his head, he replied, "I don’t doubt your strength, Your Highness. But even the strongest need someone to watch their back."

The calmness in his voice only irritated you more. You turned sharply, continuing down the garden path, your footsteps quick and uneven. "I don’t need you to watch my back. I need you to stay out of my way."

His response was quiet but firm. "Understood."

The weight of his simple reply settled over you, making your anger feel misplaced, almost childish. But your stubbornness wouldn’t allow you to back down. You marched ahead, determined to ignore the strange tightening in your chest, the inexplicable guilt gnawing at your resolve.

This tension became a constant, simmering beneath every exchange. Every glance Jungkook cast in your direction felt scrutinizing, even though he never once said anything out of line. And every time you snapped, he took it with that maddening calmness, never rising to your provocations.

Until one day, he didn’t.

The great hall buzzed with murmurs as townspeople filled the space for another people’s meeting, their faces lined with worry and frustration. You sat on the elevated dais, your gaze steady as the villagers came forward to air their grievances. It was a familiar scene, mostly complaints about taxes, disputes over land, requests for aid. You nodded, offering solutions where you could.  

But then, a middle-aged man stepped forward, his expression twisted with anger. His clothes were worn, his hands calloused from hard labor. "Your Highness," he began, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury, "the crime in the city is out of control. Our streets are no longer safe!”

You leaned forward slightly. "We are aware of the issue, and I assure you, measures are being taken—"  

"Measures?" he interrupted, his voice rising. "The only measures your soldiers seem to take are the ones that lead them to the bottom of an ale tankard! They’re useless, wasting our coin while we fend for ourselves."  

The crowd muttered in agreement, their voices a low rumble of discontent.  

You raised a hand to calm them. "I understand your frustration. The crown does not take this lightly, and I will personally ensure—"  

"You?" The man’s voice broke, his hand trembling as he reached into his coat. "All you do is sit on your throne safely while we suffer!"  

Before you could react, the flash of a blade caught the light as he pulled a knife from his cloak. Gasps filled the hall, and everything seemed to slow for a moment.  

But Jungkook was faster. In a single, fluid motion, he stepped in front of you, his sword drawn and leveled at the man’s throat. "Drop it," Jungkook commanded, unwavering.  

The villager’s eyes widened, his hand faltering as the tip of Jungkook’s blade pressed against his skin. "I—I didn’t mean to—" he stammered, his anger now mixed with fear.  

"Drop the knife!" Jungkook repeated, and this time, the man obeyed, the weapon clattering to the stone floor.  

Captain Toren and the other guards quickly moved in, seizing the man and leading him away. The tension in the hall was palpable, the murmurs of the crowd now hushed whispers.  

The meeting was promptly dismissed, the townspeople ushered out under by the guards. You rose from your seat, heart still pounding, and marched out of the hall without a word.  

Jungkook followed close behind.  

Once you reached the privacy of a secluded courtyard, you whirled around to face him. "What in the world was that?" you snapped, your voice sharp with anger.  

Jungkook stood firm, his arms crossed. "I was doing my job, Your Highness" he replied evenly.  

"Your job?" you repeated, incredulous. "Your job is not to scare my people!"  

He frowned, his eyes narrowing. "With all due respect, Your Highness, my job is to keep you alive. That man could’ve killed you."  

"He was desperate, he was not going to harm me!" you countered, your voice rising. "He needed help, not a blade at his throat."  

Jungkook took a step closer, his tone hardening. "Desperation makes people dangerous. If I hadn’t acted, you could’ve been seriously hurt or worse."  

You glared at him, hands clenched at your sides. "You made me look weak, Jeon. In front of everyone. How am I supposed to lead when my own guard undermines me?"  

His composure slipped, frustration evident in his voice. "And how am I supposed to do my duty when you refuse to see the risks around you?"  

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Jungkook exhaled. "I’m not your enemy, Your Highness. I’m trying to protect you, even if you dislike me for it."  

You looked away, the anger still simmering but now mixed with an uncomfortable realization that he might be right. Without another word, you turned and walked away. But the tension between you lingered as a crackling undercurrent that neither of you could ignore.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into a full month of the same dull duties. The Prince hadn’t experienced any further incidents, and since he rarely left the castle, Jungkook’s duties felt more ceremonial than protective. Inside the palace walls, the biggest threats were mundane like slipping on the stairs or burning yourself on a stray candle.

Still, one thing did unsettle him and that was the maids. It felt as though they were constantly watching him. But more scrutinizing was Lady Evra, whose sharp glances and curt words made it clear she didn’t think highly of him. Jungkook couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but he suspected she was just waiting for him to slip up.

Today, however, promised a break from routine. The kingdom was hosting dignitaries from neighboring states to celebrate the success of this year’s crops. The festivities included a hunting game, and the Prince would be participating.

Jungkook found himself looking forward to the day’s events. He had never been hunting before. The reason being that this activity was largely reserved for nobles and royals. For Jungkook, weapons had only ever been tools of war, used against enemies of the kingdom. 

As he waited for the Prince to emerge from his chambers, Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how long it always took him. He’d observed plenty of men prepare for the day, from fellow soldiers to high-ranking officers, and their routines were straightforward: a quick wash, a shave, clothes thrown on with minimal fuss. Even royals, he assumed, wouldn’t stray far from that. But the prince? His routine was far more elaborate.  

It wasn’t just the time he took but also the constant presence of maids—never a single male servant. Jungkook found this unusual. Nobles might have personal attendants, but it was customary for male royals to be assisted by male stewards, especially when dressing for public appearances. Yet here, only women fluttered in and out of the Prince’s chambers.

Jungkook’s brow furrowed as he leaned against the wall outside the door. Why so much secrecy? He wondered. 

His thoughts were abruptly cut short by the sharp clearing of a throat. Jungkook straightened at once, spinning on his heel to face an unimpressed Lady Evra, with the Prince standing just behind her. 

Jungkook’s gaze slid past the head maid and landed squarely on the Prince, who was wearing a finely tailored black velvet suit. Unlike his usual flowing robes, this ensemble clung to his form, outlining every contour. Jungkook’s mind involuntarily drifted back to that night at the tavern:

He’s too… delicate. His face, his voice—hell, even his body.

He could see it now. The Prince’s build was slender, with narrow shoulders tapering to a small waist. But lower still, his thighs seemed more shapely, fuller than one might expect. Jungkook swallowed, his thoughts beginning to tread into dangerous territory.

“What are you gawking at with that foolish expression, boy?” Lady Evra snapped, her tone sharp enough to slice through his reverie. She clicked her fingers in front of his face, jolting him back to reality. Jungkook mentally cursed himself for being so obvious.

“My apologies, ma’am,” he muttered, quickly lowering his gaze.

The Prince cast his eyes downward, a faint pink tinge brushing his cheeks. Jungkook’s heart stuttered at the sight, but before he could dwell on it, the Prince turned on his heel and began to walk away. Lady Evra followed, though not without shooting Jungkook a final withering glare, her eyes narrowing in warning.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a tight line. Focus, fool. 

When they arrived at the hunting grounds, Jungkook was immediately struck by the lack of royal guards. Only Captain Toren and two more guards stood watch over the King, alongside Jungkook himself. The absence of a larger contingent seemed odd, given the importance of the event. 

More surprising, however, was the presence of Lady Evra. She stood out sharply among the assembled men, all of whom were accompanied only by their stewards or squires. Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder what purpose a maid had at such a gathering. It was unusual, to say the least, for a woman—especially one in her position—to attend a hunting excursion.

The journey there had been rough. The carriage lurched and swayed over the uneven, muddy roads, making the ride uncomfortable for all. By the time they arrived, Lady Evra was visibly pale, her knuckles white as she gripped the carriage’s edge. As soon as the wheels stopped, she nearly leapt from the cabin, clutching a handkerchief over her mouth. She looked as though she might empty the contents of her stomach at any moment.

"Please fetch Lady Evra some water," The Prince instructed one of the nearby stewards.

Turning to Lady Evra, he added, "You may rest in the carriage. I won’t require your assistance for the time being."

Lady Evra nodded stiffly, still covering her mouth. Without another word, she retreated to the designated camp area, her usual sharp demeanor dampened by her obvious discomfort. Jungkook watched her leave, unable to shake the feeling that her presence here was more than just an odd coincidence.

The dense forest stretched around them, the towering trees creating long shadows as the afternoon sun began its slow descent. The hunting party had dispersed, each group fanning out in search of game. Jungkook remained close to you, bow in hand, his eyes sharp as he scanned the surroundings. His primary duty was to ensure that the area was safe, yet his gaze kept drifting to you instead.

You moved with a certain grace, your slim figure seeming out of place among the rugged hunters. The tight-fitting black velvet suit from earlier now seemed even more impractical in the wild. The way it hugged your narrow waist and flared slightly over your hips was… distracting. Jungkook found himself stealing glances, his grip tightening on his bow each time his eyes wandered.

“You’ve been staring,” you said suddenly. You didn’t turn to look at Jungkook, instead keeping your gaze ahead.

Jungkook stiffened, clearing his throat. “I’m merely keeping watch, Your Highness. It’s my duty.”

You finally glanced back, one brow arched. “Is it? Funny, I didn’t realize my waistline required such vigilant protection.”

Jungkook felt heat rise to his cheeks. “Forgive me, Your Highness. I was… assessing the terrain.”

“Of course,” you replied, your tone light but your eyes lingering on him just long enough to unsettle him.

Jungkook tried to shake off his discomfort, focusing on his surroundings. His instincts were on high alert, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted—not by his thoughts, and certainly not by you.

Suddenly, a sharp rustling in the underbrush made both of you halt. Jungkook raised his bow instinctively, scanning the dense foliage.

“It’s probably just a deer,” you whispered.

Before Jungkook could respond, a sharp sound cut through the air. An arrow zipped past, grazing Jungkook’s arm and embedding itself in a tree behind him. He barely registered the sting before he heard your sharp intake of breath. His heart stopped as he turned to see you clutching your side, blood seeping through your fingers.

“Your Highness!” Jungkook lunged forward just as the ground beneath you gave way. You stumbled, and before Jungkook could grab hold of you, both of you tumbled down a steep slope. Rocks and branches tore at your clothes and skin until you landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

Jungkook groaned, pushing himself up despite the aching in his limbs. His eyes immediately sought out your form. Scrambling over, he knelt beside you. “Your Highness, are you all right?”

Your eyes fluttered open, face pale. “I… I think the arrow grazed me.”

Jungkook’s gaze fell to the blood-soaked fabric at your side. He knew he had to act quickly. “It’s more than a graze, Your Highness. You’re losing too much blood. I need to tend to the wound.”

You shook your head weakly, attempting to push his hands away. “No. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Jungkook insisted firmly. “If I don’t stop the bleeding, you could—”

“I said no!” You snapped, voice trembling with both pain and defiance. Your hand gripped the torn edge of your garment. “You cannot… I won’t allow it.”

Jungkook hesitated, understanding dawning in his eyes. You weren’t just refusing out of pride… you were hiding something. But there was no time for hesitation. Gritting his teeth, Jungkook grabbed your wrist gently but firmly. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but your life comes before anything else.”

With one swift motion, Jungkook tore the fabric away from your side, revealing the wound… and something else. His breath caught. Beneath the blood and torn fabric, your chest was bound tightly, concealing curves that no man would possess.

Jungkook froze, his mind racing, but he forced himself to focus. “Your Highness… You—”

“Just hush,” you whispered hoarsely, eyes burning with both fear and anger. “And do what you must….”

Snapping out of his shock, Jungkook nodded, his hands steady as he worked. He pressed a cloth to the wound, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured, his voice low. “But you need to trust me now.”

Your eyes searched his eyes for a long moment before you finally, reluctantly, nodded. Jungkook tore away the side of the corset where the arrow had struck, making you gasp, your hands instinctively flying to cover your chest. But Jungkook’s focus was entirely on tending your wound. He ripped a strip from his own jacket and wrapped it tightly around you, improvising a bandage. His mind was whirling with a million thoughts but his hands remained steady. 

“How could this happen…” you winced weakly, eyes blinking slow and unfocused.

Jungkook glanced around the tangled underbrush as he finished securing the makeshift bandage around your side. “I don’t think it was a missed arrow, Your Highness. All the groups were assigned different parts of the forest… no one should’ve been near us. Whoever shot that arrow meant to hit you.”

His gaze drifted back, lingering for a second where your ripped corset revealed the bound curves beneath. Realizing, he cleared his throat and jerked his eyes up to meet yours. You stared him down, cheeks flushed more with anger than embarrassment.

“We need to move. It’s not safe here.”

You tried to sit up, grimacing as pain knifed through your side. “I… I don’t think I can get up,”

“I’ll carry you to the carriage,” Jungkook said, already moving to help.

“Absolutely not.” You shot him a fierce glare, even as your lips trembled. “I refuse to be hauled around like some helpless damsel.”

Jungkook gave an exasperated huff. “Your Highness, this isn’t up for debate. My duty is to keep you alive no matter what.”

You lifted your chin. “I will not be carried.”

“For the love of—” Jungkook muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re so damned stubborn.”

Your eyes blazed, but the pain kept you from doing more than gritting your teeth. “Excuse me?!”

“Quiet now.” 

Before you could even protest the absolute audacity, his arms scooped under your knees and shoulders, lifting you easily. The motion jostled your side making your breath hitch through clenched teeth.

“You absolute brute!” You hissed.

“You're bleeding out,” he shot back, adjusting his grip just slightly so your head could rest against his chest. “Forgive me for prioritizing your survival over your comfort.”

Your fingers dug into the front of his uniform. “You could have at least warned me.”

“I did,” Jungkook muttered. “You just don’t listen.”

You scowled up at him, though the expression was weakened by your paling face and the way your head lolled slightly from the blood loss. “I am the crown Prince, you know. You should treat me with a modicum of…of dignity.”

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” he snapped, glancing down at you with frustration simmering just below the surface. “You make my job more difficult when you act like you'd rather die than accept help.”

He got nothing more than a quiet huff of indignation in response. You were clearly growing too weak to argue back so he quickened his pace. His gaze flicked constantly between the path ahead and the shadows shifting through the branches. But despite his vigilance, he still looked down at you every few seconds, checking your breathing.

After a moment, your voice came softer, more strained. “Do you think it was one of the guests? Someone who knew I’d be out here, away from the castle?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “But whoever it was, they knew enough to aim for where you’d be most vulnerable.”

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” you murmured weakly after a second. Jungkook glanced down at you. “About what you saw.”

His jaw flexed subtly, and for a moment he was silent. “Your secret is safe with me, Your Highness.”

Something in his voice made you believe him, despite your best instincts warning you otherwise.

He adjusted his grip and pushed into a jog. The pain flared along your ribs, but you bit back the cry, burying it in the fabric of his collar. 

“Stay with me,” he murmured quietly, quickening his pace. “We’re almost there.”

Within minutes, shapes emerged on the rise. Toren's eyes widened when he saw the crimson stain at your side.

“Prince—!” He started.

“Later,” you rasped, before Jungkook could answer. “Find whoever fired that arrow first.”

Toren snapped a signal to his men. The physician rushed forward as Jungkook eased you into a soft cushion inside the carriage, but your hand caught his wrist before he could step back.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

The female physician began cutting away the rest of the corset. Jungkook turned, placing himself between you and the widening circle of soldiers, shielding your secret with his own body as the hunt for the unseen archer began.

“This is an outrage! An arrow shot at the Crown Prince! What barbaric times are we living in?” the Queen seethed, her heels clicking furiously across the marble floor as she paced the length of your chambers. Her hands, adorned in glinting rings, were clenched tightly at her sides, white with fury.

You lay still in bed, propped up against a pile of silk-stitched pillows, a dark expression carved into your face. Pain still throbbed beneath the bandages at your side, but it was nothing compared to the knot forming in your stomach.

You hadn’t yet told her.

She was already fuming, her voice echoing off the high ceilings, and you had no idea how to add to her fire without sparking a full inferno. You didn’t even know what they’d do to Jungkook if they found out. A soldier learning the most guarded secret in the kingdom? The risk alone was enough to get someone executed. But…

Your thoughts flicked back to the look on his face when he saw you bleeding. Not disgust. Not hesitation. Just focus. A strange steadiness that lingered even after his shock.

You wanted to trust him. But did you know you could?

“The royal guards scoured the entire forest,” your father said, his voice tight with exhaustion. He sat slumped on the edge of the chaise, one hand pressed to his temple, the other clenched over his knee. “There were no tracks, no signs, no discarded arrows. Whoever it was, they planned their escape well.”

He looked older than he had the day before. You know he hadn’t slept. his robes were still wrinkled from the previous night’s vigil at your bedside.

“The wound could have been fatal!” the Queen snapped, turning toward him. “They aimed for her side! Low enough to bleed her out before help could arrive. This wasn’t a warning shot.”

“The physician said she’ll make a full recovery,” your father reminded gently. “Thanks to quick action. The bleeding was stopped in time.”

“Thanks to Jungkook.” You said, staring at the gilded canopy above. “If he hadn’t acted, I might not be here.”

Your mother’s eyes snapped to yours, sharp with calculation. “That boy…he bandaged your wound?”

You hesitated. The truth was teetering at the edge of your tongue. “He saved my life,” you said, skirting the specifics, not quite meeting her gaze.

Your father let out a slow breath. “Then we owe him a debt. At least some among the guards still know their duty.”

But your mother was not so easily appeased. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “I want to speak to him. Alone. If he is to be your constant shadow, I need to know exactly what kind of man we’ve invited into this family’s confidence.” Her words left no room for argument.

A tremor of fear ran through you—not for yourself, but for Jungkook. The more people who knew, the more fragile your secret became. And you couldn’t shake the worry that your mother would see straight through any lie he tried to offer.

A knock sounded. Lady Evra slipped inside, curtsying quickly. “Your Majesties, Sir Jeon has returned from debriefing with Captain Toren. He requests permission to deliver his report in person.”

Ice rippled through your chest. The Queen’s eyes flashed. “Bring him.”

Jungkook entered and sank to one knee, head bowed. “Your Majesties. Your Highness.”

“You kept my child alive,” the King began. “For that, the crown owes you.”

“Yes,” the Queen cut in, “but you also led the hunting party that placed the Prince in the arrow’s path. Explain.”

Jungkook lifted his gaze. “Your Majesty, the party followed the assigned quadrant. The assailant lay in wait outside any sanctioned sector. Whoever it was moved with purpose and vanished the moment the shot was fired.”

“You saw no crest, no colors?”

“None, Your Majesty. Only a black-fletched arrow. I have secured it for inspection.”

The Queen folded her arms. “And after the attack? How did you manage the wound?”

Jungkook’s shoulders squared, but his voice stayed steady throughout the questioning. “I made a bandage from my uniform and transported the Prince to the carriage as quickly as possible.”

Your chest loosened by a fraction at his quick wit.

The King exhaled. “I will make sure to let the court know you’ll remain as primary escort for the Prince.”

The Queen looked ready to object, but your voice slipped in first “I concur. Sir Jeon acted decisively. I am alive because of him.”

The Queen inclined her head after a few seconds, the gesture sharp as a sword’s edge. “Very well. But from this day forward you answer to me as well, Sir Jeon. Fail once, and no medal will shield you.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Jungkook said firmly.

“Then go,” she ordered. “See the prince’s guard doubled and the gate captains briefed about our new security measures.”

He bowed once more and withdrew.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. Your father rose to leave. “Rest, my child. We will find whoever did this.”

When your parents had gone, Lady Evra fussed with your pillows, but you caught her sleeve. “Send for Sir Jeon quietly. I… need to thank him.”

Lady Evra’s brows arched, but she only nodded. “As you wish, Highness.”

After a few minutes, a knock sounded at your door. You sat up with difficulty, wincing as the movement tugged at your healing side. “Come in!” you called, adjusting the blanket around your waist.

The door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped in with his usual calm, bowing his head slightly before crossing the room. He stopped just at the edge of your bed, posture rigid, as though unsure how close was too close.

Your loose camisole left little to the imagination. The bindings were gone so the faint curve of your chest was now impossible to hide. Still, Jungkook’s eyes didn’t waver once. His gaze held respectfully to your face.

“You wished to see me, Your Highness?”

“Yes.” You found yourself nibbling the inside of your lip nervously. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he now carried your greatest secret or the simple fact that you were alone with him in your chambers. Both felt equally improper. “I wanted to thank you again for saving me.”

“It was only my duty, Your Highness.”

“I know…”  You drew a slow breath. “I also wanted to apologize… for being so difficult.”

“I don’t hold it against you, Your Highness. I’d be difficult too, if I were in your place.”

“I think the Queen suspects you know more than you let on.”

“Yes, the interrogation made that pretty clear,” he replied without missing a beat.

His deadpan delivery made you huff a laugh despite yourself.  He didn’t smile back but his expression softened. And for just a second, he looked at you not like a soldier looking at a royal, but like a boy looking at someone he wasn’t sure how to categorize anymore.

Your smile made him lose that unwavering focus he was known for. His eyes dipped ever so slightly before darting back up. He swallowed.

You caught the slip. “Something wrong, Sir Jeon?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “You should rest. You’re still healing.”

“Is that a dismissal?” you teased, a faint smirk tugging at your lips.

His jaw tightened. “No, Your Highness. Merely a concern.”

“Very well, then. You’re dismissed.”

He bowed and slipped out, the door whisper-quiet behind him.

From the day the physician cleared you to leave bed, Jungkook seemed to multiply—one shadow was no longer enough. If he’d hovered before, now he was practically stuck to your side. Always posted outside your door even after his shift was supposed to end, tracking every corridor you crossed, materializing whenever a servant so much as sneezed in your direction. You told yourself it was because of the arrow, because you were still healing. But deep down you sensed it was because of what he’d seen in the ravine.

Your first outing was a simple walk across the inner courtyard. The morning sunlight spilled over the flagstones and you longed to feel it on your face. You managed three steps before Jungkook appeared at your side.

“If I trip, will you throw yourself under me like a mattress?” You huffed, trying hard not to roll your eyes.

“If necessary, your Highness,” he answered, unblinking.

You clicked your tongue and kept walking, noting the way castle staff parted around him cautiosly. Rumors had already taken flight about the Prince’s new guard, silent as stone, deadly as winter. You wondered which version of the story they told, the one where you were a delicate invalid, or the one where Jungkook was an overzealous watchdog. Neither sat comfortably.

Later that week, you attempted to sneak to the library after dusk to review the latest grain-tax ledgers. You’d just slipped through the double doors when a low voice cut the stillness.

“Your highness.”

You whirled. Jungkook was standing neared the doors, arms folded, as though he’d just spawned there.

“Did you follow me? Your shift ended hours ago” you hissed.

“You must’ve forgotten that the Queen ordered double watch on every entrance after the attack. I can hardly leave the future monarch to wander unguarded gaps.”

“This is the royal archive, not a battlefield.”

“Any place becomes a battlefield once an enemy steps inside.” 

You opened your mouth to retort but suddenly footsteps sounded in the antechamber. Jungkook was beside you in an instant, one hand on the hilt at his waist, the other gently pressing you behind a towering shelf.

The door creaked and two junior ministers drifted in, whispering about budget approvals. Only when they left did Jungkook relax.

“One cannot be too careful,” he murmured. “Not every foe announces himself with a blade.”

You shot him a glare. “You see threats where there are none.”

“Perhaps. Yet my vigilance has saved Your Highness before.”

A dozen retorts crowded your tongue, but none survived the heat in his gaze.

You stepped back first. “Very well. Sit and read if you must, but do so in silence while I work”

He inclined his head. “As you wish.”

You took a table by the tall windows; he chose a chair just within arm’s reach, angled so he could watch the door and, annoyingly, you. Under the wavering candlelight, you tried to drown in numbers, yet awareness of him pulsed at the edge of every calculation.

When the tower bell tolled midnight, you closed the ledger with a thud. “Finished,” you said, more to the thudding in your chest than the paperwork.

Jungkook rose, offering his arm. You hesitated, then took it—if only to steady the soreness in your side. His warmth seeped through the linen sleeve.

As he guided you back to your chambers, you realized two things with unsettling clarity:

First, the palace seemed far safer when he was near.

Second, no safety had ever felt quite so perilous for your heart.

Your injuries had yet to fully mend when your mother, in all her gilded grandeur, declared it time to host a royal ball.

As if a pierced flank and bruised ribs were no excuse to be spared the torment of brocade and small talk.

Worse still, guests from your mother’s bloodline—house Calderan, of the western realm—had been invited. And with them, your cousin Victor. You despised Victor. He was as insufferable as his father, your uncle the marquess of flintmere. Both were horribly self-important, crude, and always eager to remind the court of your… delicate disposition.

Your father had little love for them either, but decorum bound his hands. Calderan and your court were long allies, and the celebration required their presence.

Because of this unfortunate fact you were now struggling into formal attire before a tall gilt mirror. Fresh bindings hugged your ribs, hot with ache, and the new double-breasted velvet coat—blood red, embroidered in silver—pinched at your shoulders. Just as you contemplated tearing a seam for air, a knock rattled the door.

“For the love of the gods, enter!” you snapped.

The door swung wide and Jungkook stepped inside, one hand pressed to his breast in courteous greeting—then froze at the sight of you half dressed, corset strings dangling like snakes.

“What is it, Jeon? Can you not see I am rather occupied?” you demanded.

“My apologies, Highness.” He dipped his head. “I bear word from the Great Hall. The royal party from Calderan has arrived sooner than expected, and Their Majesties request your presence at once in the Receiving Hall.”

“What?” you exclaimed, voice pitching higher than you’d like. “I’m not even dressed! And these wretched clothes don’t fit. Fetch lady Evra at once.”

“Lady Evra is presently addressing some disturbance downstairs, Highness. It seems the scullery maid set the kitchen alight.”

“Curse it all!” you swore, fighting the urge to fling something across the chamber. Jungkook's lips twitched as if he found your outrage amusing.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Come help me with this.” You jabbed a finger at the offending corset’s laces.

His eyes went round. “M—me, Your Highness?”

“No, i’m speaking to the armor in the corner. Of course you! Make yourself useful for once.”

Color climbed his neck, but he crossed the carpet without further protest. You turned, bracing both palms on the bed-post while he gathered the laces of your corset. His fingers brushed the small of your back. He worked carefully, drawing each pull snug but not cruel.

“Too tight?” he asked, voice a shade lower than usual.

“It will have to do,” you muttered, trying—and failing—to ignore how your pulse fluttered where his knuckles grazed skin.

He tied the final knot, then helped settle the velvet coat over your shoulders. You faced the mirror. The garment now lay smooth, waist nipped just enough to suggest aristocratic elegance.

“Thank you,” you said, voice softer than expected.

“Always, your highness.”

His eyes lingered before he bowed and turned toward the door.

“Jeon.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“If Victor so much as looks at me the wrong way tonight,” you said, slipping into your polished boots, “I expect you to ‘escort’ him into a wall.”

“Gladly, Your Highness”

The bells of the west tower chimed eighth hour as you and Jungkook left your chamber. He offered his arm which you accepted only because the corridor felt endless and your side still ached under silk and whalebone. 

At the doors of the Great Receiving Hall, you let his arm go as the herald struck his staff with three measured raps that silenced the string ensemble within.

“His Highness, The Crown Prince, accompanied by Sir Jeon Jungkook of the Royal Brigade.”

The carved oak panels swung wide. Heat washed over you first coming from the braziers that roared in every corner. Tapestries of your house stag and House Calderan’s silver hawk hung side by side. Above the high tablewas  a chandelier bristled with beeswax candles, dripping slow pearls of wax toward the floor.

All eyes turned as you crossed the threshold. Some widened in sympathy at the pallor still ghosting your features; more than a few flicked to Jungkook, curiosity sharpening into speculation. The string players shifted seamlessly into the opening of the ceremonial court dance—a formation performed in a large circle by the noblemen and lords, and a second concentric circle by the ladies and visiting dignitaries.

“Steady,” Jungkook murmured.

“I am steady,” you replied with a tight smile.

Halfway across the hall, a voice as smooth as oiled steel cut through the courtly murmurs.

“Cousin!” Victor Calderan detached himself from a knot of western lords, crossing to you with the swagger of a man certain every eye belonged on him. He bowed then straightened to his full, irritating height. “I feared we should meet next at a funeral. Imagine my relief to see you upright, if not entirely… unharmed.”

Your jaw locked. “Your concern dazzles me, Victor.”

He smirked, gaze darting to Jungkook. “And this must be the heroic shadow who hauled you from barbaric brambles. Tell me, Sir… was it bravery or blind luck that kept the arrow from finding a truer mark?”

Jungkook’s expression did not change, but you saw his muscles tighten under his vambrace. “Luck always bows to skill, my lord,” he said evenly. “And skill serves the crown.”

A hint of annoyance crossed Victor’s face then vanished under a grin. “Well spoken. Still, I wonder if our dear Prince would fare better guarded by men of better lineage.” He let the insult hang but Jungkook seemed unaffected.

“You damn–”

Before you could finish, the Queen appeared beside you “Victor,” she said warmly, “your father awaits you by the dais.” It was not a suggestion. Victor bowed again, much deeper to her, and left.

Your mother’s smile dropped the moment his back turned. “Behave,” she warned under her breath. “The first set is the ceremonial march, you must appear united.” 

You bowed just to hide an eye roll. “As Your Majesty wills.”

A drum signaled the dance’s start. You and Victor joined the outer circle of lords, your places dictated by birth, while Jungkook took his place along the wall with the other guards. Victor’s presence at your side was unavoidable, his harsh touch on your side during the linking step made you wince.

“Still sore?” Victor murmured as the circles rotated, his lips barely moving. “If those bandages split, imagine the scandal.”

You kept your smile frozen. “If that happens, it won’t be my bindings that split... it will be your lip.”

His eyes glittered, but he was forced to move on as the circle turned and you broke away, hands briefly joining with Lord Banford, then Lord Giles. At every turn, you felt Jungkook’s gaze on you.

When the dance ended, you made to walk away and sit down but Victor stopped you, pulling you back harshly.

“Come on, cousin! Are you tired already?” 

Jungkook was at your side in a second.

“Does the guard speak for the Crown now?” Victor chuckled darkly.

“He speaks when the Crown cannot waste breath,” you answered, accepting Jungkook’s steadying arm. “My physician forbade further strain.”

The Chamberlain hurried forward, announcing the second formation, where you would join a different grouping—this time among the royal cousins and western lords. Custom demanded your continued presence, but you lifted your chin and turned to your mother.

“This set I forfeit,” you declared, voice ringing over the music. “In gratitude for my continued heartbeat, I would honor the man who saved the heir to the crown.”

A jolt of shock moved through the hall, but your mother inclined her head reluctantly, and the King gave a small nod from the dais.

Instead of taking a place in the second set, you moved aside, allowing Jungkook to join. Though not strictly within the bounds of custom, your action was shielded by royal decree.

You leaned in, voice just for him. “You see? I can break a rule or two when I must.”

He let the hint of a smile curled his mouth. “And survive it, Highness.”

The rest of the ball blurred past with Victor’s dark looks from the dance circle, the Queen’s measured glances, and the way the court’s eyes tracked every step you took with your silent, loyal guard at your side. Your closeness would not go unnoticed nor, perhaps, would you want it to.

“Mother, you cannot be serious! They’re an utter nuisance! Why would you keep them here longer than necessary?” you protested, trailing at her heels as she moved about her solar the following morning. Sunlight gleamed off gilded mirrors and the silver trinkets that lined her shelves, mocking your mood.

She turned sharply, her jewels flashing. “Because they are family, and because I say so. Besides, your father is in the midst of delicate negotiations with them.”

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Oh, please. My father would sooner share a cell with the rats under the kitchens than spend another day at table with Uncle and Victor.”

Her lips thinned. “That’s enough. You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

You clenched your jaw, biting back another retort. Without waiting for dismissal, you stormed from her chambers, slamming the heavy oak door behind you.

Jungkook was waiting outside, posture alert. He fell into step at your side the moment you emerged.

“This is absurd,” you muttered, barely slowing your stride as you swept down the corridor. 

“Your Highness, if you walk at that pace, you’ll tear your stitches,” Jungkook cautioned.

You bristled, refusing to look at him. “I am perfectly capable of walking, Jeon. Kindly grant me some dignity.”

Before he could reply, a familiar, grating voice drifted down the hall.

“Cousin.”

You stopped dead, spine stiffening as Victor sauntered toward you.

“I trust you heard the good news,” he drawled, spreading his arms joyfully. “We’re to enjoy your fine hospitality for several more days. How utterly delightful.”

“Truly wonderful,” you replied, the cold expression in your face not matching the words at all.

He grinned. “Since we have so much time to rekindle our friendship, perhaps we should indulge in some amusement. You know, like old times.”

You glanced quickly at Jungkook, drawing a steadying breath before stepping closer to Victor.

“I hardly think that would be appropriate.”

“Oh, come now!” Victor’s voice rose, clearly intended for Jungkook’s ears. “Be a man, will you? You’re the only Prince I know who shuns a bit of female company. It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself for once. Visit the city, see the girls dance. In fact, your guard is welcome to join us. The last one… what was his name? Sir Alric, was it? He could hardly stay away from those girls. Surely Sir Jeon doesn’t object to a little pleasure?”

Your eyes narrowed, refusing to give Victor the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I assure you,” you said, voice icy, “I have neither the time nor the inclination to carouse with you, cousin. Nor do I require your advice on how to behave as a man.”

Victor chuckled, but there was no warmth in it. “We’ll see. Even the purest Prince in the realm has his vices. Perhaps your new shadow here might teach you a thing or two.”

“Mind your tongue, Lord Victor,” Jungkook interrupted. “You tread close to slander.”

Victor arched a brow, clearly amused. “Slander? I thought the Prince welcomed plain speech.”

“My loyalty,” you said, stepping forward until your boots touched the hem of Victor’s cloak, “does not extend to brothels or barroom gossip. Neither does my patience.”

His smile thinned. “So prickly. Perhaps the arrow did more harm than I heard. Well—” He spread his hands in mock apology. “The offer stands. Should you grow tired of the court, you know where to find me.”

He pivoted and strolled away. Only when his footsteps faded did you release the breath strangled by the corset.

Jungkook’s eyes stayed on the corridor’s far end before returning to you. “You should not let him bait you.”

“I know.” You pressed a palm to the ache beneath your ribs. “But I know him well enough to know he won’t stop pestering me.”

Night had already draped the capital in velvet by the time Victor found a way to corner you again.

You were halfway through supper when a page arrived with a folded billet stamped in House Calderan’s hawk.

His Highness is invited to continue the evening’s festivities in the city. Your father’s treaty depends upon our growing “camaraderie.”A carriage waits at the north postern.

You could almost hear the smug lilt in every curl of ink. Refusal would definitely reach your uncle’s ears by dawn which would likely damage  the negotiations your father desperately needed. 

The truth was, your kingdom had seen better days. Crime crept through the streets, the fields had withered beneath a relentless drought, and the coffers grew thinner every day. In his desperation, your father had turned to family, forging alliances wherever he could.

So you swalloed your pride and slipped from the palace under cover of night, Jungkook at your side. Neither of you spoke as the postern gate thudded shut behind you. Two Calderan riders flanked the carriage. Inside, Victor lounged with his legs crossed, grinning wide as you entered.

“Cousin! I thought you’d faint from virtue and abandon me to the wolves.” He knocked twice on the carriage roof, and the horses surged forward. “No need to fret. The Gilded Swan keeps its finer rooms for those of proper blood.”

You took your seat opposite, brushing off his jibe. Jungkook stood by the door, his eyes fixed on the shadowed streets beyond the rattling shutters.

Victor uncorked a silver flask and swirled its contents, his gaze sharp. “Tell me, have you ever seen dancers from the southern isles? They’re… a rare delicacy. Your guard may feast his eyes as well. Consider it a courtesy from one man to another.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he held his tongue. 

The carriage rattled downhill through a maze of twisting lanes until you reached The Gilded Swan’s front of polished wood and gilded carvings of wings. Women in gauzy silks greeted patrons on the steps

Victor was out first, flipping a coin pouch to the doorman. “See that House Calderan gets the finest chamber.”

There were severak ushions sprawled around low tables laden with wine and fruit inside, while a sunken stage in the center drew all eyes. Dancers shimmered in veils and jewels, their skirts flashing as they twirled, each movement met with cheers and hungry applause.

Victor sank into a couch, discarding his boots as if he were in his own chambers. He beckoned a pair of courtesans with a lazy curl of fingers. “Wine for the Prince,” he ordered, “and something stronger for Sir Jeon… he looks parched.”

“I don’t drink while on duty,” Jungkook said firmly. He stationed himself at your shoulder, watchful as a tower guard.

Victor’s grin turned sly. “So disciplined. Perhaps the dancers can loosen that spine.” He snapped, and a tall woman with chrysanthemum tattoos crossed to Jungkook, offering a tray of crystal cups.

Jungkook took none.

The woman turned to you, lowering gracefully. Her kohl-lined eyes roved over your figure, pausing at the stiff line of your torso. She tilted her head, curiosity pricking but before her hand could brush the boned front of your doublet, you leaned back.

“No entertainment,” you said, keeping your tone princely and bored. “I am here only to ensure my cousin’s discretion.”

Victor laughed, raising his goblet. “Ever the dull blade, cousin. Truly no edge for pleasure. Tell me, do the bindings truly leave no room for—”

Jungkook stood between you. “Mind the heir’s dignity, Lord Victor.”

“Spirits be merciful, Sir Stonewall. We are all friends here.”

Yet his stare lingered before drifting toward a curtained staircase that led to secluded chambers.

“Very well,” he sighed, feigning magnanimity. “If my cousin will not try  the Swan’s delights, I shall enjoy twice the share.” He stood up with a girl on each arm, and sauntered toward the stairs. “Perhaps another night, Your Highness… when your nurse allows.”

You forced a breath past clenched teeth.

“We can leave if you wish to, Highness.”

You shook your head, eyes still on the curtained stairs. “No. Victor thinks I’m weak. Let him wear out his appetites. We will see how well he argues tariffs tomorrow with a pounding skull.”

You managed a tight smile. “Besides, I have my own entertainment.” You pointed to a quieter alcove overlooking the stage. “There. Far from roaming hands.”

He escorted you to the nook, positioning himself so no stray reveler could approach unnoticed. 

Hours later, when Victor was well and truly lost beyond those curtains, you remained in the alcove. Below, you could see the dancers entertaining nonstop. A single brass lamp burned on your table, scenting the air with clove and orange its low flame gilded Jungkook’s profile and it was hard not to notice the clean line of his jaw, the faint scar at his temple, the way lamplight glanced off his dark lashes whenever he blinked.

Perhaps it was the spiced wine Victor pressed on you before he vanished, which you refilled at least twice seen. Perhaps it was the warm stupefying musk of incense that drifted from braziers along the wall. Either way, your limbs felt pleasantly untethered, your thoughts inhibited. You laid sideways on a velvet bolster, temple propped on your fist, studying the man who refused to leave your side.

“You do realize,” you said, words coming slower than usual, “that you have not taken your eyes off that door since we sat down.”

“It is the only entrance to these private stairs,” Jungkook answered. His tone was even, but his gaze slid to you for the briefest moment. “If trouble returns, it will come from there.”

You let your head loll back. “Still the dutiful shield. Even in a house of vice.”

“I am sworn everywhere,” he said quietly.

“Sworn everywhere,” you echoed. “To me”

That earned his full attention. His eyes, dark as spilled ink, held your own and you wished nothing more than to see into his thoughts.

An idea, warm and reckless, bloomed behind your ribs as you reached across the low table and brushed a fingertip along the edge of Jungkook’s gauntlet where metal met leather. “Remove this,” you murmured.

“Highness?” His voice caught in surprise.

“The armor,” you clarified, sliding your finger higher, grazing the strap at his wrist. “If I must endure bone and lace, you may relinquish a single plate. Humor me.”

His lips parted and you could tell he was trying to find a way to refuse. But the dutiful soldier in him told him to obey. Slowly he unbuckled the vambrace and removed it.

Without the gauntlet, his hand looked strangely vulnerable, long fingers scarred at the knuckles, veins tracing elegant lines beneath skin. You found yourself cataloging each detail as though it were a secret map.

You took the risk, folding your hand over his. Jungkook did not pull away, though every muscle in his forearm flexed.

“Your pulse is fast,” you whispered, sliding your thumb across the roughness of his knuckles.

“So is yours,” he replied, eyes locked on the place your hands met.

Perhaps he meant to reclaim discipline and perhaps you meant to retreat. Neither happened. Instead you leaned forward, wine-sweet breath mingling with his steady exhale. From this close you noticed the faint scent of cedar oil on his tunic and the way a single strand of hair curled against his cheek. Your gaze drifted to his lips and how soft they looked. You’d never been kissed before but suddenly the curiosity to experience it felt stronger.

“Highness,” he breathed.

“Do you truly not desire any distraction?” you asked, trying for light teasing, but the words husked in your throat.

“I desire—” He stopped, swallowed. “I desire your safety.”

“And now?” Your lips were inches from his. “Am I in danger?”

A flicker of something like hunger flashed in his eyes. He raised his free hand, intending, you knew, to guide you back to a safer distance. But he misjudged and his fingers brushed the bare line of your collarbone instead. The touch was light as a feather yet it felt like embers striking tinder.

“I think you’ve had more wine than you intended, Highness.” His jaw tightened slightly, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before swiftly darting back to your eyes.

“I know precisely how much I’ve had,” you countered quietly. “And it is just enough to see clearly.”

He exhaled slowly, but made no move to withdraw. “And what is it you see clearly now?”

“You.”

His dark eyes searched your face, their careful mask slipping. “Your Highness, I—”

But words seemed suddenly insufficient. Before caution could whisper warnings, you leaned in even closer, enough to feel the warmth of his breath fan across your cheek.

“You’re quite handsome, Jeon,” you breathed, and then the realization of your boldness caught up to you. But even then, you couldn’t pull away.. or didn’t want to.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Highness,” he finally managed, voice strained. “We must be careful…”

But still, he did not move away. And you wondered, heart racing wildly in your chest, whether either of you truly wanted him to.

The city’s raucous glow had faded behind you, but your thoughts were a muddle. Jungkook carried you through the shadowed halls, keeping to the servants’ ways where no courtiers would see. Your head lolled, the fine points of your princely attire digging into your ribs and making every step a trial.

When at last you reached your chambers, Jungkook all but dropped you onto the old settee. You slumped with a groan, fingers clawing at your sash and the linen bindings beneath.

“You must shed these clothes, Highness,” Jungkook said, trying to keep his tone respectful. “You’ll not heal sleeping in such tight bindings.”

You snorted. “Spare me the lecture. If you’ve any compassion, help me before I die of strangulation. Saints, this is tighter than a miser’s fist.”

He hesitated, glancing aside. “This is improper—”

“Oh, by the gods, Jungkook!” you snapped, voice sharper than intended. “You think I care for propriety tonight? I’ve suffered arrows, your company, and Victor’s idiocy. Help me or leave me for the crows.”

He muttered something under his breath—a curse, probably—but obeyed. His fingers found the cords at your back, unsteady only in the beginning. The binding was nothing like court ladies’ corsets. It was just cruel, tight linen, meant to flatten your chest beneath the shirt and sash. As he worked, you nearly sagged in relief from all the air rushing in.

“Mercy, that’s better,” you groaned. “If I die of a broken rib, you have my permission to toss me in the moat.”

“You should lie down, Highness” he murmured, his voice low and strangely gentle.

You shot him a side look, drunken bravado bleeding into your words. “Only if you swear to catch me, Jeon. I think my legs are lost to the night.”

He slid an arm behind your shoulders, helping you upright. The motion spun you and you tumbled against his hard chest, hands gripping his shirt for balance.

“Gods, you’re sturdy,” you slurred, grinning like a fool. “Is that what they teach in the brigade? To stand firm no matter what fool Prince pitches into you?”

He swallowed, lips parting. “It’s…expected of me, Highness.”

You laughed brightly. “Expected. Hah. I expect nothing and am never disappointed. Look at you, face all grim as judgment day. No jest, not even a smile.” You squinted up at him, noting the worry in his gaze. “Why do you look at me like that?”

He was silent, hands still steady on your waist, but his eyes betrayed him.

“Don’t be so serious,” you whispered, suddenly closer. “There’s no secret between us. Not anymore.”

Your lips brushed his, barely a touch, but it was enough to scatter any pretense of sobriety. He froze. Both honor and desire warring under his skin.

You pulled back, smirking despite yourself. “You have no taste for this, have you? No appetite for ruin?”

“That is not it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

Before he could protest further, you kissed him. A real kiss this time, hard and sure, all the reckless longing you’d been holding in. His hand curled at your back.

You broke away, breathing hard, half in his lap now. “Tell me truly,” you demanded. “Do you want this, or must I beg?”

He exhaled like a man dying of thirst. “I do.”

As his hands slid under the last linen, your bindings came undone and for the first time—maybe in your entire life—someone saw you not as a Prince, but as you.

You waited for judgment, but Jungkook’s eyes only darkened as his gaze swept down your bared chest.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. His hands trembled as they cupped your waist, his thumbs smoothing over your ribs, mapping bruises and your wound. His fingers relished on the softness, the secret curves only you had ever touched until now.

You wanted to make a joke to break the nerves, but the words melted in your throat. Instead, you watched him watch you, and your heart ached, shocked at how it felt to be gazed at like that.

He bent his head, lips ghosting down your collarbone. “Tell me if you wish me to stop,” he murmured against your skin.

You shook your head, voice ragged. “Don’t you dare.”

He smiled and kissed down your body. Mouth lingering on every inch, tracing the swell of your breast with reverent lips. Hands spreading your legs open—showing you, wordlessly, that nothing about you needed hiding. When he finally pressed his mouth to your nipples, you gasped, one hand flying to tangle in his hair.

His tongue traced gentle circles around the softest part of you, his breath hot, the scrape of his jaw rough but grounding. You shook in his hands, aching from the inside out.

Your thoughts unraveled. This is me, my true form. You could barely remember the last time you’d felt your body as anything but a disguise, made to fit someone else’s story. Now, with his tongue and lips coaxing pleasure from you, every moan felt like reclamation, every arch of your back a defiance of everything the court said you were not.

Let them say I’m unfit, let them call me monster or traitor, you thought as you cried out for him, but at least he knows me. He knows me.

His kisses trailed lower, aching passes of his lips that left your skin flushed and trembling. Every inch of you he touched felt new no longer hidden. When he settled between your thighs, you jolted. Not from fear, but from the terrifying ache of being seen there. You’d bound yourself for years, flattened what made you a woman. No one had ever touched you like this, looked at you like this.

“Please,” Jungkook whispered, hands firm on your thighs as he guided them apart. “I want to see you.”

Your head tipped back, lips parted in a soundless plea. “Don’t mock me,” you breathed.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “You don’t know what it does to me—seeing you like this. Real. Unhidden. Do you know how many men would fall to their knees for you?”

Then he did. Right there, between your legs, head bowed not in service to your crown, but to your body.

He kissed the inside of your thigh first then higher, then higher still, until your hips jerked and your hand flew to his hair again, fingers twisting in the strands like rope. The first pass of his tongue against your most sensitive flesh made your knees lock around his shoulders.

You gasped helplessly. “Jungkook—!”

He didn’t speak. Just moaned low against your cunt, and the vibration sent a white-hot jolt straight through you. He licked you with so much fervor, you’d think he was a starving man.

It was unbearable, how good it felt. Unfathomable. The Prince—you, who had fought in war councils and sparred in training yards—reduced to nothing but trembling whimpers and heat between your thighs. His hands never stopped holding you, grounding you, keeping you from flying apart.

The room blurred. Your mind went blank. All you knew was the relentless pressure of his mouth, the way he sucked and licked and groaned against you as if your pleasure was the only reward he’d ever wanted.

“Gods,” you whispered, hips grinding up into his face, “I— I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, voice muffled, filthy and warm. “Let go. Let me have it.”

You shattered with a cry that would haunt the stone walls if they had memory, back arched, thighs trembling, every muscle locking as you spilled into his waiting mouth. He held you through it, drinking it in, the wet sounds obscene and sacred all at once.

Only when it ended, when your body finally stopped thrumming did Jungkook stop. Slick with sweat, chest heaving.

He didn’t speak. He simply rose, face flushed, lips glistening with your pleasure, and met your eyes with something so raw it made your throat close.

No man had ever kissed you there. No man ever could.

And now, Jungkook—your sworn protector—had knelt between your legs and made you come undone as if it was his greatest duty.

“If the world had sense, it would crown you queen,” he whispered against your ear.

You woke to a shaft of pale morning light spilling through the narrow windows. For a long, breathless moment, you lay utterly still, not quite sure where you were or even who you were.

But your body reminded you with the ache in your thighs, the softness where your bindings usually gripped you, the strange, delicious soreness between your legs. And then…Gods. The memories rushed in, scenes flashing through your mind with blinding clarity. Jungkook’s mouth, the press of his hands, the way you’d let yourself be worshipped in every way you’d been forbidden.

A spike of panic shot through you. You sat up too quickly, the room spinning, covers falling to your lap. Your shirt was thrown across the foot of the bed. Your bindings lay in a heap by the settee. You drew your knees up, arms wrapped tight around yourself, heart racing so loud you could barely hear your own breath.

You looked for Jungkook, already knowing before you checked that he was gone. The hearth was cold, the door shut tight. No trace of him but the memory of the weight of his body, the heat of his mouth, the words he’d whispered into your skin.

Your throat burned with shame and dread. What if someone knew? What if someone heard? You pressed your palm to your mouth, trying to stifle a gasp that was half horror, half desperate longing.

Last night you weren’t a prince or a pawn or a prisoner. Last night, you were just a woman. A wanted woman, loved with a fierceness that still lived in your bones.

But now, daylight had returned you to the castle and its old lies. Your heart pounded as you forced yourself to move, fumbling to dress, to pull your bindings tight enough to erase the softness he’d worshipped. Your fingers shook on the knots.

You tried to compose yourself, to breathe, to remind yourself of what must be done. Of the mask you had to wear.

But as you stared at your reflection, at your mussed hair, bruised lips, and bright eyes, there was no hiding what had changed.

You’d been seen and touched for the first time.

And now, as you moved about your lonely chamber, the world pressing back in with all its old weight, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry, scream, or just go back to last night and live it over, consequences be damned.

You stepped into the corridor still lacing the last tie of your sash, trying to compose your face into something neutral. But it shattered the moment your eyes met the uniform of the man standing at your post.

And it was not Jungkook.

A different guard—older, stiffer, unfamiliar—stood at attention outside your door, hands behind his back, chin high.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you asked sharply.

The man blinked, clearly startled by your tone. “Pardon, Your Highness?”

“Jeon Jungkook. My personal escort. Where is he?” You stepped closer.

“I was told by Captain Toren that he’s... indisposed. I was assigned to relieve him of today’s duty.”

“Indisposed?” You raised a brow. “Since when does Sir Jeon shirk duty for a sickbed?”

The guard shifted uncomfortably. “I know not, Highness. Only that Captain Toren said he’d not be attending the Prince today.”

You didn’t wait for another explanation. Your jaw clenched as you spun on your heel, fury pumping through your limbs faster than your blood could carry it. 

“Your Highness—!”

He left. He just left.

Coward.

You stormed through the hallways, ignoring the glances of courtiers and servants as your pace grew more feral with each step.  You checked the guard barracks first—empty. Then the inner court. Then the old stables.

Every place he might’ve been, every shadow you thought he could’ve retreated to after defiling the body of a prince in the hush of night.

And he was nowhere.

You hadn’t known what you expected… maybe guilt, maybe him standing with his head bowed, ready to explain, to apologize for slipping away like a thief but this absence felt worse.

As if he’d taken your skin with him. As if he’d kissed you, tasted you, broken every rule and decided afterward that it hadn’t been worth the risk.

You finally found Captain Toren speaking to a handful of men by the training yard. The moment he saw you approach, he bowed slightly.

“Your Highness. Is something the matter?”

You ignored the others. “Where is Jungkook?”

Toren’s brows lifted. “He is indisposed—”

“Indisposed is not an answer,” you snapped. “I asked where.”

There was a brief pause, but it made your stomach turn. “I granted him leave this morning. He left the grounds. Said he needed time to clear his head.”

Your breath stilled in your chest. The silence after felt like it scraped your ribs raw.

He ran away from you.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, fury crackling just beneath your skin. But underneath that humiliation.Your guard, your confidant, your secret, your lover—for one night—had taken all of you in his mouth and hands and then vanished.

So be it.

If he thought he could disappear without consequence, he’d sorely underestimated you.

The door closed behind Jungkook on a breathless hush. He paused in the corridor, back pressed to the wall, eyes shut tight. He could still feel you, your hands clutching his hair, the press of your thighs around his head, the taste of you lingering on his tongue.

He should have stayed. He should have faced you when the sun came. But the enormity of what he'd done, that you'd let him do, was enough to shatter the foundation of every vow he’d ever sworn.

He moved through the empty palace like a ghost, head down, avoiding every servant’s gaze. He'd barely made it to his quarters before the panic set in for real.

Saints above, what have I done?

He'd known you as a Prince—sharp-tongued, reckless, always shoving against every rule. But last night… last night he'd seen you as no one else had. The hidden softness of your body, the way your voice broke when you begged, the wild way you pulled him close, desperate for something real.

And gods forgive him, he’d worshipped you. He’d knelt before you, tongue aching to give you pleasure until you broke against him. The memory of your cries was a brand on his soul.

But daylight did not bring peace. It brought terror. Every moan, every gasp, every whispered plea was a risk not only to you but to the very kingdom.

He'd tried to clean himself in the barracks, scrubbing your scent from his skin with icy water, as if cold could erase the warmth of your body or the sight of your eyes as you came undone for him. It didn’t work.

He couldn’t face you. Not with his hands still shaking, not with want and shame fighting in his gut.

So when Captain Toren found him at dawn, face haggard, and offered him leave—“You look like you’ve not slept in a week, Jeon. Take the day. Gods know the court will not collapse if I put another sword outside the Prince’s door”—he took it, barely trusting himself to speak.

Now he wandered the city’s edge, cloak pulled tight against the morning chill, lost in the noise of market stalls. He had nowhere to go. All he could do was remember the taste of your skin, the way you’d looked at him, and the sick ache that he’d ruined everything by wanting you too much.

He did not know if you would forgive him. He did not know if he deserved it. He only knew one thing with blinding, ruinous certainty…  he could never protect you from this. From the court, from scandal,  from himself.

Jungkook wandered through the winding city streets, the clang of cathedral bells chasing him from square to square. He couldn’t settle, couldn’t think. Every step was just distance put between himself and the castle—between himself and her. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, still tingling with memory and regret.

He ducked down a quieter alley that  eeked of wine, piss, and cheap perfume. He hadn’t even made it to the edge when he heard that smug, drawling voice he would’ve recognized in his sleep.

“Well, if it isn’t the Prince’s lapdog. Out chasing your own tail this morning, Sir Jeon?”

Victor leaned against a tavern wall, cloak askew, hair a mess, a faint stain of last night’s excess still clinging to his collar. His eyes were bloodshot, but the venom in them was sober as steel.

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. “Lord Victor. Shouldn’t you be sleeping off such an entertaining night?”

Victor smirked, pushing off the wall. “I could ask the same. I imagine the Prince kept you plenty busy yesterday. I wonder what the palace would say if they knew where that mouth of yours had been last night?”

Jungkook froze. There was no way he could know about what you did in your chambers, it was just the two of you there and he was too preoccupied here drinking himself to death. He must’ve seen you in the alcove, the kiss.

Jungkook stepped closer, refusing to show his worry. “Watch your tongue, my lord.”

“Or what? You’ll cut it out?” Victor’s grin sharpened. “How long’s it been going on, hmm? I’ve had my suspicions, of course. That little princeling’s been avoiding women like plague since birth… Makes sense now, doesn’t it?”

A dark fury settled over Jungkook. “You know nothing.”

Victor only laughed. “What, struck a nerve? What would the Queen say if she knew her heir was letting a common-born soldier mouth her off in a brothel? What would the court say, the people? Tell me, Jeon…do you prefer her weeping or begging?”

The blade was out before Jungkook even knew he’d drawn it.

Victor flinched, but it was too late. Jungkook slammed him into the alley wall, forearm pinning his throat, dagger pressed tight to his cheek.

“If you ever breathe a word, if you ever so much as look at the Prince sideways—“ Jungkook growled, “and I'll carve your tongue out and mail it to your father.”

Victor struggled, but Jungkook’s grip didn’t loosen. “You wouldn’t dare—”

Jungkook headbutted him. The crack of bone echoed in the stone alley.

Victor reeled, collapsing to his knees. Jungkook didn’t let up. He kicked him hard in the ribs then grabbed the back of his collar and slammed him face-first into the cobblestones.

Blood splattered as Victor groaned, trying to crawl away. Jungkook pressed a boot between his shoulder blades, blade poised at the base of his skull.

“You speak ill of her again and I'll make sure they find your corpse hanging in the north woods with your cock stuffed down your throat,” he whispered.

Victor coughed, wheezing. “Go on, then! Kill me! Prove you’re just as feral as they say!”

Jungkook held still, the blade trembled in his hand. A bit more and he’d cut straight into the skin and he could only imagine what a satisfying moment it would be.

But he put the blade away.

“You’re not worth it,” he said coldly. “But understand me, Lord Calderan—if I so much as hear your boots echo near the Prince’s door again, I will make you regret it”

Before walking away he landed a few more raw punches to Victor’s face, so he would not forget when he saw his reflection. Then he turned, leaving your cousin bloodied and gasping in the filth.

Back in the castle, you were done waiting. You tore through the corridors, snapping orders, refusing to let anyone stop you. You would find Jungkook. Drag him back if you had to.

Just as you walked into the training yard to demand Captain Toren to send a search party, the clang of the portcullis carried clear across the ward and a breathless sentry sprinted in.

“Your Highness… the south gate… Sir Jeon returned.”he said between breaths.

You spun, boots biting the sand, cape snapping behind you as you stalked for the archway that opened on the outer bailey. Two guards tried to flank you but one glare sent them scattering. 

Jungkook crossed the drawbridge alone. His cloak was torn, his knuckles split open, and you could swear shreds of Victor Calderan’s livery clung to his sleeve. But his eyes fixed on you the moment he stepped beneath the gatehouse. Whatever storm lived there matched yours blow for blow.

He stopped three paces short and dropped to one knee with his head bowed. “Your Highness.”

You didn’t give him leave to rise. Instead you stared, shaking with fury.

“Look at me.”

He lifted his head. The courtyard might as well have been empty save for the two of you. A few servants hovered at distant doors, merchants stalled their carts, even the ravens on the battlements fell quiet.

“Where did you go?” Each word was a blade you flung at him. “You swore to keep me and then you vanished before dawn like a coward.”

Pain flickered across his face, “I left because I feared I’d done you harm, Your Highness. Because if the court learns what we… what I did—”

“You think a disappearing act protects me?” You laughed bitterly. “Don’t be so damned honorable.”

“I regret nothing,” he said, the words bursting out. He surged to his feet before closing the gap in two strides. “Nothing but leaving you alone. I couldn’t breathe for it.”

You wanted to strike him and scream but you shoved him instead. He barely moved, but his breath hitched like you’d run him through.

“I searched every hall,” you hissed. “I nearly ripped the castle down stone by stone.”

“I fought Victor,” he blurted shakily. “He cornered me in the city, spewing poison about last night. He saw us in the alcove. I lost my head… I drew steel. If rumor spreads, it will be by his tongue or mine.”

The anger in you swelled, then toppled under a wave of cold fear. You seized his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “But I left him bleeding enough to remember my words well.”

You exhaled a jagged breath, fingers slipping from his face to his shoulder feeling the tremor there, matching your own.

“You cannot fight every battle for me,” you said, softer but no less fierce.

“I can try,” he answered. “Or die on the attempt. But I will not run again.”

The resolve in his eyes cut through every echo of shame. In that heartbeat, the yard, the court, the watching world—all of it fell away. You stepped into him, fists twisting in the collar of his torn cloak. His hands found your elbow, reverent even in urgency, a touch that spoke more than any public display.

“Swear it,” you breathed, low and fierce.

“On blade and blood,” he said, voice for you alone, “I am yours to command.”

The onlookers could only see a Prince and her battered guard, standing eye to eye in the hush, but between you the promise burned brighter than any scandal or sword.

You released him at last, straightening your cloak, resolve returned. “Come. Tend your wounds and then we will decide how to silence Calderan.”

He nodded once and together you walked back toward the heart of the castle.

The eyes of the court lingered on your back as you strode from the yard, Jungkook at your side. He matched your pace despite the raw edge of tension radiating from his every step, one hand curled loosely into a fist, dried blood still crusted along his knuckles. Neither of you spoke until the castle swallowed you both.

You ducked into a side chamber near your quarters—a private room used by the royal guards. You shut the door firmly behind you. Jungkook started to speak, but you held up a hand.

“Sit,” you ordered softly, voice no longer edged in fury.

He hesitated only a moment before lowering himself onto the bench, watching carefully as you gathered clean cloth and water from the cabinet. Your chest was tight, heartbeat thrumming wildly beneath your bindings, but your hands were steady as you knelt in front of him.

Taking his hand, you examined his split knuckles, anger rising anew at the bruises forming under torn skin. “You should have been more careful.”

Jungkook’s voice was low and quiet. “He deserved worse.”

You sighed softly, dipping the cloth into water and gently pressing it against his hand. Jungkook’s muscles tensed, but he didn’t flinch or pull away.

“You know he will speak, don’t you?” 

“Not if he values his tongue.” His reply was dark, certain.

Your lips twitched despite yourself. You carefully cleaned the blood from his hand, gentle in contrast to the fury still simmering beneath your skin. “I feared I might never see you again,” you admitted quietly.

He looked away, jaw tightening. “I was a fool. I thought leaving would protect you. But I swear it won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” you whispered, thumb brushing lightly over the raw skin. You glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I cannot endure another morning like this.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and slowly he turned his hand, catching your fingers gently. “Nor I.”

“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” you murmured, releasing his hand.

“A worthy price,” he said simply.

You stood slowly, allowing yourself one last lingering look at him before straightening your posture, mask sliding back into place. “Come. You must report back to Captain Torren.”

But you didn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before a servant intercepted you, bowing deeply.

“Her Majesty requests your presence in his chambers, Your Highness. At once.”

Jungkook stiffened beside you. You didn’t look at him, only nodded.

“Of course,” you said tightly.

The King’s receiving room was a gilded cage with high windows and the constant scent of cigars and bitter tea filling the air. He stood by the hearth, hands behind his back.

“Prince,” He greeted you coolly. His gaze flicked to Jungkook with a razor’s edge. “And Sir Jeon. I am glad you’re both still in one piece, judging by the trail of whispers currently flooding my halls.”

You gave a slight bow. “Father.”

“Come now,” he said with feigned warmth, “let’s not pretend I haven’t already heard every version of this morning’s spectacle. The servants have been fussing all morning about you causing a ruckus and then you cursed Sir Jeon dead in front of the entire court.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Am I missing any details?”

Jungkook moved to kneel, but you raised a hand subtly to stop him.

“I was retrieving my guard,” you said evenly. “His absence was unexplained, and I had cause to be concerned.”

“Concerned enough to shout at him in front of the entire southern garrison?” the King asked, voice growing colder. “Tell me, my child… is this guard so essential that you’d undermine royal decorum to drag him back by his collar?”

“He is sworn to my protection,” you said firmly. “When he vanished, I acted accordingly.”

“Vanished,” the king echoed, his eyes flicking to Jungkook. “And what explanation have you, Sir Jeon, for abandoning your duty? For coming back bloodied, with half the city talking?”

“He defended my honor,” you said without hesitation. “From a man who has done nothing but insult this house since the day he arrived.”

The King raised one brow. “Victor Calderan?”

“Victor Calderan.”

His eyes shifted again to Jungkook. “Is this true?”

“I acted in defense of the Prince’s dignity, Your Majesty,” he said steadily. “I drew no blade until insult turned to threat.”

The King let the silence stretch then finally, he exhaled and moved toward the table.

“I should send him home,” he muttered. “That little rat and his bloated father both.”

“I would not object,” you said under your breath.

He shot you a look. “But Calderan blood is not easily spilled without price. Should Lord Victor demand satisfaction, the entire treaty may hang by a thread.”

You bristled. “With respect, Father, if Lord Victor can’t hold his tongue, perhaps he’s not fit to negotiate for his house.”

The king’s stare sharpened. “That is not your decision to make. And it is not your duty to chase after your guard through the halls like a lost child. Whatever has passed between you—” his eyes narrowed, and your heart froze, “—remember that you are heir to this kingdom. Your choices weigh more than anyone else’s.”

“As for you, Sir Jeon… if you fail to keep your place at the Prince’s side without incident it will more than your commission you lose. Is that clear?”

Jungkook bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The King let the silence stretch again, letting you both feel the chill in his study seep into your bones.

“I will not have the future of my house risked for the sake of one reckless guard and one reckless heir,” he said at last. “From now on, you will both be watched. Do not give me cause to regret my patience.”

You stared at the mosaic floor, jaw clenched, every muscle urging you to argue, to insist that you’d had no choice. But the weight of the crown perched on his brow reminded you that here, in this chamber, he was not just your father; he was the King, and you were the wayward heir who’d brought fresh rumors to an already restless court.

“You are dismissed. And kindly refrain from further disrupting my morning.”

You bowed and turned away with your last bit of dignity, Jungkook gliding into step beside you. Only once you were a safe distance from the council chamber did you allow yourself to breathe.

“Well,” you murmured, your tone edged with wryness, “that was less severe than I anticipated.”

Jungkook let out a quiet, sardonic laugh. “His Majesty did not order to remove my head. I consider that a win.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, the tension easing ever so slightly from your shoulders.

“It would seem we are to live another day, then,” you replied.

He glanced at you, a trace of mischief flickering in his eyes despite the gravity of your situation. “Fortune favors us.”

The palace chapel sat at the far end of the eastern cloister, practically forgotten now that grander temples dotted the city. Few ventured there except old priests and novices to maintain the statues and other sacred artifacts, and at this late hour the tiny sanctuary was empty.

You slipped through the narrow door making sure that the night time guard didn’t follow you. You’d dismissed them with the excuse of needing some time for private devotion. The king would approve— piety always soothed rumor, after all.

At the altar rail you knelt in silence for a whil, until soft footsteps echoed behind you.

“Highness,” Jungkook murmured.

“You came,” you said, rising slowly.

“I received your note.” He managed a wry smile. “It seems you were in need of some private prayer.”

You huffed a breath. “I need far more than prayer.”

“Today,” you continued, forcing steadiness into your voice, “the court saw their Prince lose control. My father saw it. And all because I could not bear to think you’d left me.” Your gaze dropped to his bandaged hand. “I was ready to tear the palace down.”

He stepped forward “I regret leaving, but I do not regret what we shared. Not a breath of it.”

The words were a balm, even if they left your heart aching. You moved closer. “We stand on the edge of a sword,” you whispered. “One misstep, and somebody will bleed.”

“I know,” he answered. “Yet here I stand.”

You reached for his injured hand. He hesitated, then let your fingers brush the knuckles. “Does it hurt?”

“Barely,” he said, gaze locked to yours.

You released a shaky sigh and turned, leading him down the side aisle to a tiny transept chapel. 

“Here,” you murmured, guiding him to a bench. You fetched a small vial of holy oil left on the credence shelf, poured a drop on your thumb, and knelt to touch it gently to each battered knuckle.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. “That’s for anointing the dying, not the living.”

“Hush,” you said, pressing a final kiss to the back of his hand. “As the Prince I say this should be for the living who’ve risked death for me.”

His eyes smiled at you, crinkled at the corners and shining despite their dark color.

You rose, and this time he didn’t fight the impulse. He reached, settling his uninjured hand at the small of your back “Why did you really summon me here?” he whispered.

You drew in a steadying breath. “I just needed to be sure you’d be there when dawn comes. That you won’t disappear again.”

“I’m not leaving again.” His voice did not waver. 

“And,” you added softly, daring, “I need… your touch again, even if only here, where no one dares to look.”

The storm in his eyes lasted but two seconds before you felt the cold of the chapel wall searing through your clothes as Jungkook pressed you back.

The hush of the sacred air shattered by the rasp of hurried breaths. This wasn’t the practiced grace of royal undressing. It was frantic. Fingers slipping over sweaty skin, belts tugged half-loose, layers bunched at your elbows. Every brush of his hands felt dangerous and exciting.

Your breaths hitched, chest rising fast against tight bindings, the sound of him—hoarse, hungry—spilling into the shadowed alcove. His hands found your hips, thumbs digging in hard enough to bruise as he pulled you flush against him. There was nothing reverent in his touch anymore. You felt the tremor in his grip, the desperate stutter of his exhale as he nosed along your jaw.

You caught his mouth with yours, teeth clashing in a kiss that tasted of salty sweat. Lips parting as he bit down gently, just shy of pain.

His palm cradled the side of your face, rough thumb smearing the flush of your cheek, and for a moment you forgot where you were.

“If someone finds us—” you whispered breathlessly, voice trembling against his lips.

“Then let them bear witness,” he said darkly, eyes fierce and wild as they captured yours. “I fear no judgment but losing you.”

He spun you around, your chest pressed against the cold stone, one arm braced firmly beside your head. You felt the faint tremor in his hand as it slid roughly down your back, tugging impatiently at layers until he found the hem of your breeches and shoved inside. His palm was calloused and urgent as his fingers found you all wet and desperately willing under his touch.

Your forehead pressed against the stone, eyes squeezed shut as he opened you slowly, two fingers curling deep in your core. His other hand rose quickly to muffle your moans against his shoulder.

“Quiet, Your Highness,” he warned in a rough whisper, mouth hot against your ear. “Or do you wish the entire court to hear how eagerly their future monarch yields?”

His hand moved faster, hips pressing insistently against you, and you felt the undeniable hardness of his cock through his breeches. When his teeth grazed your neck, you bit fiercely into your sleeve, desperate to silence your moans and his name trembling dangerously upon your tongue.

His fingers work you ruthlessly, thumb circling your clit. You didn’t hold on long, coming hard and fast on his fingers.

He kept going, not letting up until you were shaking.

When he finally pulled his hand away, you twisted and caught his wrist, dragging his slick fingers to your mouth to suck them clean, meeting his eyes the whole time.

“Fuck,” He whispered, barely audible, as if even here the gods might overhear.

You hadnt even caught your breath before he turned you back around. His lips found yours, hand rising to your cheek, still wet from where it’d ust been inside you. You dragged him closer, tasting yourself on his tongue, neither of you pretending you’re anything but desperate now.

“Please,” you whisper, the word trembling out between your teeth, the plea of a sovereign who’s ready to kneel for no one but him. “I need you. All of you. Do not make me beg.”

His control snapped, finally.  He fumbled with your breeches, yanking them down just enough to bare you, his own clothes undone with the same desperate haste. He pressed himself against you, one hand tangled in the fabric at your chest, the other steadying your hip as he aligned himself at your entrance.

He was hot and hard and impossibly thick. When he pushed into you, your body stretched to take him, the unfamiliar ache drawing your eyes shut and forcing a gasp from your lips. The pain was sharp but edged with an overwhelming relief, a fullness that left you crying. For a second you could only clutch at him, feeling the sting and the fast pulse of your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

He paused, brow pressed to yours, breath shuddering as he held himself there. “I will stop—just say the word,” he whispered, voice rough with concern and restraint.

“No,” you gasp, nails digging in his shoulder. “Don’t stop. I want this more than anything.”

He held himself still for a few seconds, giving you time to adjust, waiting as you breathed through the sting and pressure and the dizzying intimacy of it all.

After a moment, your muscles eased around him and the ache softened into pleasure blooming where pain had been. You moved your hips, testing, and the friction made you shudder, tears pricking your eyes now not from pain but from want.

He felt it too. “Gods above, you are perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. “So tight, so exquisite.”

He drove into you, abandoning all pretense of gentleness, and you nearly sobbed into the hollow of his neck at the exquisite pain and the forbidden stretch of him—taken utterly where even saints had never dared to look.

The angle was all wrong and all right, knees spread shamelessly, every sound echoing in the hush of the chapel. His hand clamped over your mouth to swallow your cries, his teeth gritted as he took you deep and relentless, every last shred of knightly self-restraint destroyed by the secret he would die to protect.

You gripped his shoulders, body split open around him, still hungry for more. Needing more. He fucked into you as though he meant to brand your very soul with his shape. His grunts spilling against your mouth, your moans echoing in the sacred silence.

“Gods,” he hissed, his thrusts faltering as you clenched tightly around him. “We should not—this is… by all that’s holy, this is profane.”

“Does it feel wrong?” you whispered, lips brushing his skin as you spoke. “Do I feel like sin to you, Jeon?”

“No… you are… salvation itself,” he growled, snapping his hips harder, drawing a choked cry from you as your eyes fluttered back. “I would burn for this a thousand times.”

You laughed breathlessly “You would burn for me?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “By all the saints, yes.”

“Then make me cry out in this holy house.”

He groaned deep in his chest. “You are meant to be the vessel of the divine… holy, untouched. Yet look at you now… ruined for me against the chapel wall, spilling down my cock for any god who dares to look.”

“Stop—” you managed, your voice a trembling plea, not because you did not crave it, but because his words unraveled you faster than his body ever could.

He snarled, driving deeper, one hand rising to circle your throat. The weight of his palm there made your thighs quake.

“You will be Queen,” he muttered, voice low and ragged, each word another oath against your skin. “Anointed before the gods.”

“And what a queen I shall be,” you rasped, barely able to form the words, “impure, made so by your seed.”

He groaned, the word torn from his chest. Then his thrusts quickened, one arm locking you up by the waist as the other held your neck. Your moans broke in your throat, and you swore every star beyond the stained-glass windows flickered in answer.

“Look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

Your eyes met, wild and shining. In that moment, you cared for neither your title nor any consequence. You were simply the crown Prince, being filled by her guard in a place meant for prayer.

With a cry stifled by his hand at your throat, you fell apart. Body tightening and shaking, your legs locking around him as he drove through your climax. His own followed moments later, his body shuddering as he spilled himself deep inside you, buried to the hilt, his voice ragged and reverent as he moaned, “Mine.”

His thrusts became rougher, desperate, his hand sliding to your thigh to hold you open as his thumb found your clit again, coaxing every last tremor from your ruined body. The world melted away into the crash of bodies and need.

Somewhere outside, the bells tolled for midnight. Inside, you were left wrecked if only proven by wild hair, flushed skin, and his seed slick on your thighs. The memory of his cock and his hands, forever burned into you.

He held you there, arms locked around your waist, unwilling to let you go.

“I will burn for this,” he whispered, voice raw.

You drew him close for another bruising kiss. “Then we shall burn together.”

Afterward, the hush of the chapel pressed close. Jungkook held you, breath soft against your brow. The stone felt less cold now, your limbs leaden and content for the first time in memory.

He drew you into his lap, cloak pulled to shield you both from the lingering chill. His hand traced the curve of your cheek, eyes searching yours for what words could not say.

For a long while, you only listened to the shared breaths and the distant tolling of the bells.

But secrets had a weight of their own. You pressed your face to his shoulder. “I owe you the truth.”

Jungkook stilled, arms tightening protectively. “There is nothing you could say that would turn me from you.”

You let out a soft laugh. “You say that now, but you don’t know what I carry.”

He touched his forehead to yours, eyes fierce and gentle all at once. “Then tell me. Let me carry it too.”

You drew in a steadying breath. “I was not born to be heir. My mother, the queen…she had a son. My twin. But he did not live past his first breath. She had three failed pregnany before ours, and the king’s council grew anxious. A realm with no prince had no future in their eyes. So they gave me his name. Only a man could inherit the crown, so a man I became.”

Jungkook listened, his thumb stroking your jaw.

You swallowed. “The council never knew. The midwife was sworn to secrecy. The servants, threatened. I was raised as their son, their hope, their lie. All my life I have been split in two.. what the world must see and what I am under the skin.”

He brushed a strand of hair from your brow, his gaze full of sorrow and pride. “And yet you carry it all. Not just the crown, but your mother’s grief, your father’s ambition, the weight of a kingdom’s secret.”

You nodded, the truth finally spoken into holy air. “All for a throne I am not allowed to claim as myself.”

Jungkook cupped your cheek. “You are more than their heir, more than any king’s shadow. You are the future because you endured what none of them could.”

Tears burned hot in your eyes. “And if they learn the truth, I lose everything.”

“Not everything,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You will never lose me.”

You melted into his arms. In the hush of that ruined sanctuary—with the past laid bare and the world waiting just beyond the door—you finally understood what it meant to be free, because of the man who held you, who saw you for the woman you truly are.

[avaredava]

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who almost spit out his pop when he was sitting with your older brother laughing about him rejecting some random girl.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who quickly swallowed his drink looking at you with surprise in his eyes as you walked through the door coming home from college in a flowery flowy dress that was beautiful on you, also ending up getting him going a bit. He instantly got criticized by your brother getting slapped when he noticed the very prominent tent in his pants.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who quickly defended himself with a small "It just accidentally happened, not from Y/N, trust me." Your brother gave him a disapproving glare then a small nod. Not totally believing him but letting it slide for once because it never happened.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who simply will never like you. He has always thought that. Bros before hoes especially when the hoe is the bros sister.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru was unbelievably bad at trying to lie to himself.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who was squirming in his bed thinking about you. Thinking about your smile your laugh your soft curves that he oh so wants to hold and caress, not sexually just to feel every inch of you.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who couldn't stop thinking about how pretty you were inside and out. He's 19 almost 20 now, summer break and you're almost 19 now. So both of you are in uni and haven't really seen eachother since highschool.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who either he likes it or not he's always liked you. Even in highschool but he distracted himself with basketball and tons of girls.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who absolutely is fucked about the fact he doesn't have many distractions anymore. Not maybe girls in his field of study. And he doesn't want to go with the other girls in different courses because they are all full of themselves. And he's into bitches.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who bangs on your window like you two are still in high school and hits you with the "Couldn't sleep." As you asked why the fuck he's banging on your glass at 3 am.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who does a little smile in triumph as he basically won a little hang out sesh. You thought he was smiling in excitement just to hang out he had another devilish thing to do in mind.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who's lips pressed to yours in a quick dash. Yes consent is big but the fact that he saw you looking him up and down made him know you want him to.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who grinned against your lips like he knew you wouldn't deny his lips against yours because he didn't. His hands gripping your hips like he wanted to for years on years. His lips moving against yours in a needy way yet soft but pushing for more.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru who pushed you against the bed practically begging for your body, kissing up and down your neck like he's deprived of water and your the only salvation.

He put your hello kitty plush under your head as his kisses got rougher and rougher because of how wanting he was, how badly he wanted your emotional and physical mind and body like there was nothing else to have.

His hands gripping your hips as his lips spread open jamming his tongue in your mouth, wet saliva sounds filling the room. As his tongue and lips go more weak and dependent on you. Like if he pushed off he would die.

Brother's bestfriend!Satoru in a matter of minutes his cock was inside you at a threatening pace, the same pink bed sheets he saw with the door open in high school walking to your brother's room.

His cock plunging in and out of you like there is no tomorrow. Maybe there wasn't but he needed your velvet warm walls in your body. The perfect things in his world were those nice tits and those tight walls, and of course his favourite your beautiful personality.

And he has all three of them now.

And he doesn't intend to let it go.

Master lists

[jjkeverlast]

hurts so good│jjk

✧ pairing best friend!jk x fem!reader

✧ rating explicit (18+)

✧ summary having jeongguk as a best friend had it's cons. for one he complains, a lot. surprisingly he shows up at your door at two in the morning to complain about something incredibly different.

✧ warnings & tags friends to lovers - hung!jk - light sub!jk - humor - explicit content - oral (m. receiving) - unprotected sex (lol) - soft reassuring kind of sex :((( reader just wants to show guk that he can still fuck despite his big size :((((

✧ word count 4.3k

✧ author's note this fic is a re-upload! if you've seen it before, this is why:)

"Jeongguk? It’s two in the morning."

You’re shocked to see Jeongguk in nothing but a black sweats attire and a pissed off face. 

"I need to vent." He reasons. 

"At two in the fucking morning?"

Now you’re pissed. The sleepy eyes long forgotten and the eight hour of sleep you were looking forward to all day. You let out a huff, moving aside for Jeongguk to enter. He better have a good fucking reason for this shit, you internally think as he comfortably sits on your couch as if it’s his own home. Sure, he carries the best friend title but he really had a thing for being way too comfortable in that department. Which explains him snacking on your unfinished snacks after your movie night — yes, with yourself. 

"Hey! Seriously?" You snatch the bag of chips, as his mouth is full paired with his doe eyes looking at you in shock. 

"I was hungry!" It’s muffled, small crumbs of chips flying out of his mouth. Disgusting. 

"Just tell me why you’re here so I can go to bed as quickly as possible." You settle the bag of chips beside you as you sit next to him on your living room couch. Jeongguk swallows the chips, his annoyed face returning quickly — as if he forgot why he was irritated in the first place. 

"Okay, well, Victoria is out of the picture." Victoria as in the woman who’s been involved with Jeongguk the last month. They met through one of your friends and quickly they agreed to see each other. You’d heard zero complaints about their relationship, up until now. 

"I’m sorry Guk. What happened?" Now he’s being really quiet, too quiet for your liking. 

"Jeon Jeongguk." Your voice is stern and he knows he’s gonna have to speak up now or you’ll kick him out. 

"You won’t believe me." 

"Try me." His brows raise, noticing you’re quickly losing your patience with him. 

"It was because of… of the sex."

Sex. A very broad subject in your opinion, having a million reasons why sex can be bad and shakingly good. So for Jeongguk to reason sex, your mind immediately thinks that it has something to do with the fact that Victoria didn’t finish while they fucked. Which could be true? You wouldn’t know. Yes, so Jeongguk and you were best friends and overshared a tad bit much at times, although sex? Sex was never really on the table of ‘subjects to talk about’. 

"Fuck this is gonna sound so wrong." Jeongguk grunts, tilting his head back and your thoughts are left on the shelf for now. 

"It can’t be that bad." Jeongguk makes a noise, stating he’s disagreeing with your comment. You roll your eyes at his childish act. 

"Jeongguk, if it’s about you not making her finish I will kick you out."

You’re serious. If he came to your apartment to complain about not making someone cum at two in the morning, he’s gonna join the wolves and god knows whatever lurks in the streets at night. 

"It was hurting her. Y/N, I fucking hurt her." You’re puzzled, trying to figure out how exactly Jeon Jeongguk could be hurting anyone. 

"Wha–"

"With my fucking dick."

It’s silent. The air con noise grows louder in your apartment as you both stare at each other in fright.

Did he just say—

"Y-your dick?" You tilt your head, eyes wide open not having a chance at being closed. He’s nodding slowly and you wheeze — thinking this is some sick joke that he wanted to pull on you.

Classic Jeon Jeongguk. 

"Y/N, I’m serious." Your laughter continues on, you almost tearing up as it becomes uncontrollable. As your mind slowly processes the awkward silence from Jeongguk's side, you quiet your laughter and listen to what he has to say. 

"It’s because of my-my length." 

"Length? As in you're big enough to reach her cervix?" You joke playfully, hitting him on the arm as you’d guessed he’d laugh at it but instead?

"Yeah."

You’re speechless.

Your laugh being completely swallowed, taken back by the agreement to your joke. Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly, then that would mean he probably has a big di–

"You don’t believe me."

You really don’t. 

"It’s just hard to believe… that’s all." Jeongguk couldn’t possibly. It’s weird for you to even think about. 

"How can I make you believe me? Cause I am seriously struggling with women and this isn’t helping." He gives you a stern look with a glimpse of urge for help. He’s desperate. 

"Prove it to me." There’s no words to describe the expression that is currently resting on Jeongguk's face. A mix of every expression a person can carry.

“I’m not showing you my dick.” He gives you the obvious tone of ‘you can’t be serious right now’ and crosses his arms as you’re no help to his little situation.

“Then I’m not believing you.” 

“Fine!”

“Fine.” You’re both staring into the black TV screen, arms crossed as the silence returns. It’s awkward for once. You were obviously joking about Jeongguk showing you his dick — not yourself wanting to see what’s behind his black sweats. As if the thought ever occurred to you of what it looks like…

Okay, so maybe you have. Once. It wasn’t your fault when Victoria had been drunkenly babbling over how big Jeongguk was. You didn’t think of it as much, seeing she was in a drunken state. But when Jeongguk admits it, you immediately try to shut down the idea that he might be telling the truth. You didn’t want to even begin to imagine how Jeongguk is in bed. Is he needy and whiny? Or controlling and grunting? No, seriously Y/N stop. You grunt in annoyance and that catches Jeongguk's attention, watching you bite your lip. He would never admit that you, leaning your head back, your lip tucked in between your teeth is hot. Like really fucking hot. No. You’re his best friend, for seven years to be exact. He can’t possibly find that hot. 

Maybe it was because of the fact that he sought your help after Victoria threw a tantrum at him for having a big dick. It has never occurred him to be attracted to you, you had been friends for so long that sex or just anything regarding a sexual situation between you never crossed his mind. When he looks over once again, your eyes now closed, swallowing the silence that's filling the room between you as the tension grows. Maybe it’s only from Jeongguk's side, or maybe yours as well, although he can’t tell what you’re thinking. 

"Let’s just forget this okay?" You finally speak, with a regretful tone which Jeongguk catches too quickly for his liking. He should’ve never found you hot for a split second. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong of him. 

"Yeah, okay. I’ll leave." Jeongguk rubs his palms against his sweats, trying to calm himself from the ungodly thoughts of you crossing his mind slowly. 

"Or–" You start off, catching his attention as he turns to meet your eyes, you look tired. "You could– you could stay.’’ He never expected for you to invite him to stay. Sleepovers between the two of you were never involved in your seven year long friendship. Jeongguk wanted to stay, and because you proposed made him hopeful. Hopeful in a sense that maybe, just maybe you’ve thought of it too. 

"Sure, okay, I’ll stay." He’s hesitant. Are you both going to share a bed? 

"You can just sleep on the couch. I’ll get you a duvet." You smile awkwardly, leaving the living room and entering your bedroom while Jeongguk feels incredibly stupid. Of course you don’t want him, you’ve never wanted him. He wants to slap his face for letting himself be attracted to you. 

"Here." You’re already back, holding the duvet close to you, as you place it on the couch you wish him goodnight and return back to your room. 

As your door closes, Jeongguk sighs loudly, falling back against the couch. He’s fucked. It’s fine, he just has to sleep his attraction towards you away. He discards his sweats attire, leaving him in his black Calvin Klein boxers, a personal favorite of his. 

When he finally settles in, covered in your duvet, he catches the smell of you enveloping the fabric. It doesn't help his mind which already has you covering most of it. He tries to shake out of it, turning and at last closing his eyes. 

After what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, Jeongguk comes to the conclusion that he can’t sleep. He wants you, more than he thought he would. He’ll probably hurt you, which is one of the few reasons holding him back from knocking on your door. Also the fact that you are very clear on the best friend scale. 

There’s a lot of risks that would be taken if he stood up and walked towards you, admitting how much he wants you, how desperate he is to let you touch him. All thoughts vanish from him when he comes to conclusion that he’s saying fuck it. He’ll just leave if you don’t feel the same way and burrow himself deep in his bed and never leave until his attraction disappears completely. 

He gets up, throwing the duvet off himself and being met with your white wooden door. His heartbeat is increasing as he urges himself to pull his arm up and form his hand to a knuckle to leave a knock. 

As he’s about to knock, the door flies open and you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a loose transparent white tee. Your nipples are on display for his eyes and he’s gulping over seeing more of you than he expected. Wait–why are you awake? 

"Y/N?"

"I– I couldn’t sleep." You’re looking down, stealing a quick glance at his bulge which he notices. Do you, do you want him? God the buildup is absolutely killing him. But he tries to control himself, holding himself back from asking you if he can kiss you. 

He clears his throat, "Why?" You were probably thirsty or maybe the thought of him being here caused you to sleep badly. He felt bad. 

"I can’t stop thinking about it."

Your posture changes, a dominant demeanor overlapping itself on your shoulders. You’re stern, firm and just plainly honest. Could you be any hotter? 

"Thinking about what?" You’re smiling, your gaze landing on his silver chain hanging around his neck. With a swift movement you’re hooking a finger around it and pulling him to your lips. Jeongguk freezes, his lips feeling warm as they’re covered by yours. He can’t process the fact that you’re kissing him. It feels so right, your chest pressed firmly against his, as he’s able to feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. 

Before your fingers can grab onto his hair, he stops. "Are you sure?" You’ve crossed the friendship line, the kiss breaking the scale completely. 

"Yes. Let me feel you Guk." Your pleading eyes, and the firm grip your finger has on his chain leaves him dizzy. He lets you, lets you take full control of him. 

"Touch me." He catches your smile at his request before you pull him further in the bedroom and guide him to lay down. His heartbeat is going crazy fast, his mind barely being able to comprehend that you’re about to straddle his lap. 

As you position yourself on top of him, a low grunt leaves his lips as the contact between your core and his visible bulge closes. He’s already so hard and you’ve barely touched him. 

Your fingers grab his hair, tenderly running your fingers through the undercut. "I love your hair like this." You compliment as you go back to kiss him, missing the warmth of his mouth already. 

Jeongguk is careful with you, wanting to touch you everywhere, run his hand down your spine and feel the warmth of your skin under his palm but he holds himself back. His mind is back to thinking of you hurting, and feeling hurt because of his length. This is a bad idea.

"Wait." He holds your shoulders, your hands laid flatly on his chest with a worried expression. 

"What’s wrong?" You look like someone who’s scared you’ve gone too far and Jeongguk feels a tinge of guilt. 

"I don’t want to hurt you." He whispers, being careful with his choice of words. 

"What if I want it to hurt?" You trace your fingers on his chest, drawing them in small circles as his eyes move to your half hidden smirk. 

"I–"

"Just, trust me." Your head falls down on his chest, leaving kisses on his chest and letting your tongue run freely on his exposed skin as he whimpers beneath you. Your tongue feels amazing on him and he gives in, letting you control the situation. 

"Okay." Jeongguk softly says, your head moving lower towards his abdomen, peppering his skin with kisses and biting gently down to give him a small taste of what awaits him. 

He can sense that you’re being patient, savoring up the moment of having him like this. His body is a canvas for you, to mark, bite and let your mouth run freely on. He wants you to take control, to show him how well you’ll be able to please him as he later on will give you his cock to fill you up. 

"This– this feels really good." He mumbles, barely forming a full sentence, too captivated by the feeling of you above him. 

You hum against his skin, seeming more than pleased in hearing his compliment regarding your mouth. You’ve moved longer down, your legs now settled between his as your breath lands hot on his clear hard on. 

Jeongguk looks up to see you gawking at him and he grows embarrassed. 

"Y/N, stop looking."

"Sorry, you just weren’t kidding." Somehow the answer resolves in you and Jeongguk laughing like idiots and him throwing a ‘I told you so’ into the middle of your shared laugh. The laughter soon dies down and the irresistible tension returns to the dark bedroom, the only light coming from the outside lights covering the streets. It’s the only light which helps the both of you in seeing a glimpse of one another. 

"Can I?" You ask, holding one hand firmly on his hip as your thumb traces on the top of Jeongguk's Calvin Klein boxers. He gulps, nodding as he allows you to take things further. 

You take your time in taking his boxers off, Jeongguk can’t help but have his hips shake – reasons being he’s nervous yet thrilled for this to happen. Having his cock on full display for your eyes is nerve wracking, he’d never see this day coming. 

"Hey, I’ll be gentle." With that you use your thumb, smearing his leaking precum as he bucks his hips wanting more. Jeongguk is infatuated by your touch, becoming more needy for you.

"Fuck– your hand feels so soft." He throws in a compliment and surprisingly you go at a faster pace, a sudden moan escaping his lips. Fuck, how are you so good at this?

The sensational feeling from your hand has Jeongguk closing his eyes, also because he’s nervous to look at you while your hand is wrapped firmly around him. He’s too confused and captivated by you and the pleasure you’re giving him that he still really hasn’t processed what is happening right at this moment. It feels surreal. 

Your thumb traces itself on his tip once again, Jeongguk running his hand through his hair as his breathing speeds up, a familiar feeling of release washing over him.

Fuck, you haven’t even touched him for long and he’s already thinking of coming.

You, his best friend since he had his awful hair fazes that just never really complimented his features. His best friend since high school, as you both lamely made fun of the PDA couples, who never knew what the word ‘privacy’ meant.

He’s too deep in thought, until you suddenly stop.

Jeongguk hesitantly opens his eyes, using his elbows for support as he now looks at you.

"Can I taste you?"

Jeongguk almost chokes at your question. His already fucked out state isn’t even hesitant. Fuck he’d love your lips wrapped around him. Your lips look even softer than your hand. The outline of your lips visible for his eyes as the moonlight discreetly shines over them.

God, you make him so weak. 

Truth be told, Jeongguk doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this willing, this open to just anything.

But if it includes you? He’s all for it. 

"Y-yeah."

Fuck, he just stuttered.

You probably think he’s being hesitant and–

You gently lick his tip, swirling it around to allow the taste of him to linger itself in your mouth, your hand starts to move again and Jeongguk's mouth falls apart, his eyes watching you.

If only you could see how pretty you were as you open wider, inviting more of him. Your mouth feels so warm, so welcoming. He wonders if it’s possible to get addicted to a certain body part, because he’ll for sure mention your mouth if asked. 

"God, your mouth." He wants to caress your cheeks softly, as his thumb can feel how well he’s filling your mouth up. Maybe it’s too much… too sentimental. Seeing you’re literally stuffing your face with his cock, your hand stroking what you aren’t able to take. 

Although, he forms a sort of courage and asks you gently, "Can I touch you?" You let go of his cock with a pop, brows furrowed as if you’re uncertain of where exactly he wants to touch you. 

"Please?"

"Okay." Jeongguk leans closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb grazes the top of it. You lean in his touch before you go back down, taking him in your mouth once again. He won’t survive this. No. He won’t survive you. 

He’s almost about to break when his palm feels the bump caused by his cock in your mouth as you bop your head faster, all while Jeongguk whines freely — not knowing he’s making you extremely wet by moaning so carelessly. 

It’s not until you use your hand, focusing solely on sucking his tip that he’s almost about to finish. You retrieve before he’s able to, a string of saliva connecting you to his tip as you smile so innocently. Yeah, he’s definitely not surviving you. 

“What are you doing to me?” It isn’t a question, rather a statement towards everything he feels for you in this instant moment. 

You guide yourself back up, lips molding against his. He can taste himself on your tongue and it drives him crazy. He’s almost willing himself to take control — he’s never done or wanted that before, but there’s just something about you which drives him in a completely different direction. 

Should he touch you? Touch you in ways he’s always found appealing but never for him? He’s willing, for you he is. Slowly but surely, he tenderly peppers your neck with kisses, slipping his tongue to run along. He’s startled when you moan so effortlessly. He wants to hear more of you and those heavenly sounds you’re so willing to offer him. 

You begin to move, grinding your clothed core over his bare cock and a rush is sent through him. It’s almost as if he’s gotten you needy now, so needy you couldn’t contain yourself from grinding on top of him — still fully clothed. It feels new, although Jeongguk loves it, cause fuck he can feel how wet you are. Did you get this wet by only touching him? 

"You’re already so wet." A grunt leaves his lips when you only hum in response, continuing your grinding, almost as if you’re losing yourself completely at the touch of him. 

"Fuck, fill me up. I can’t wait anymore." You push him down, hurrying yourself to take your shirt off. Since when did you go from being patient to impatient so fast? He can’t help but feel extremely proud of himself, patting himself mentally on the back. 

But then he’s in tact of what’s happening, you’re about to sit yourself down on his cock and he’s afraid — even though you made it clear you want it to hurt — he just… cares too much about you and the thought of you being in pain because of him doesn’t sit well with him.  

"Hey, are you sure? I really don’t want to hurt you." You’re just about to position yourself, freezing in your movement. You’ve probably caught on how afraid he is. 

"Guk, I want this. It’s okay." You peck his lips softly, his hold on you loosening to inform you that he trusts you. 

His tip is barely inside of you and a whimper lets itself out of him. Scratch that about your mouth being his favorite body part of yours, your pussy definitely steps on the podium for number one. 

You continue, Jeongguk catching the sight of his cock disappearing within you and his breathing starts to quicken. He probably won’t last long, not when you wrap yourself so nicely around him the further you go down. 

"Shit—" You let out, fully sunk down on him. There’s a tinge of discomfort covering your face but Jeongguk forces himself not to worry, you want this, you want him. It’s soon replaced by a smile, as you start bucking your hips, letting yourself settle on him. 

He really takes the time to notice how beautiful your breasts are, looking so delicate. God, he wants to touch them, touch every inch of you. 

He’s reminding himself of the sounds you let out as he placed his lips on your neck, would you react the same way if he latched his lips on your exposed breasts as well? There’s really only one way to find out. Yet he wants to be good for you, letting you use him to make yourself finish. 

You surprise him once again, guiding his hands towards your breasts — as if you knew he was having a tantrum with himself over if he should touch them or not — he was right, they’re incredibly soft. Your nipples perked and good enough to suck but then again, he holds himself back. 

"You feel so good." Your words are mostly slurred, too focused on the pleasure — your eyes closed as you run your fingers through Jeongguk's hair — his hair that you like. 

He makes you feel good, you keep reminding him when you mutter it once more as your hips buck at a faster pace. Shit, you really know how to ride him well. 

It’s as if something clicks for Jeongguk when you go down to bite his earlobe followed by an angelic whimper. He loses all control of himself. "Fuck–" He’s taking control, flipping you around so you’re beneath him, hair sprawled on your pillow and eyes about to pop out of their socket. 

"What are you–" Jeongguk latches his mouth on your hardened nipples, nibbling his tongue softly on them and it was so worth it. They feel so soft against his tongue. Although not as soft as your pussy wrapping itself perfectly around him.

Jeongguk feels dizzy, drowning in the feeling of how he’s swallowed by your warmth. Fuck he’d keep himself buried in you forever if he could. 

He starts thrusting, profanities break out from you when the pace quickens. He’s reckless at this point, showing you how much you affect him. 

As the time passes, skin grows hotter, small beads of sweat covering Jeongguk's forehead. You’re both close. He can sense it as you convulse around him which almost leaves him breathless. 

"Fuck— it hurts, it hurts so good." With that your body loses its composure beneath him as you come undone. 

It’s something about you making him good about himself, not only him as a person but him in whole. You’ve always been so accepting of whatever bullshit he’s brought upon you. He feels safe around you, your arms wrapped around his form as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel like home. You are his home. 

With a low muttered fuck, Jeongguk feels his cock twitch as his hips stutter for one last thrust, filling you up with everything he has. 

His hair covers most of his sight, both of you panting in sync as you try to calm yourselves. When his cock begins to soften, he takes it as a sign to let himself plop down next to you. 

"I’ve– I’ve never…" Jeongguk doesn’t know where to begin. He can’t recognize the person he was right before. 

"Taken control?" You steal his unspoken words and he turns to see you smiling softly. The moonlight has turned to a chrome yellow, indicating that a sunrise was indeed nearing. Your features have become more prominent for Jeongguk's eyes and your beauty captivates him by an invisible hook. 

"Yeah, taken control." 

"You should do it more often." It’s an encouragement and it seems to work because the idea of being in control doesn’t faze Jeongguk. He loved it. 

It’s been around an hour after Jeongguk surprisingly fucked you. You’re both situated in your kitchen. The sunrise covering most of the apartment with it’s golden rays that strike inside the windows from the living room.  

"What are you thinking?" Jeongguk caught onto your frown, indicating you’re thinking about something. 

"I’m thinking that… I liked this, what just happened, I really liked it. It felt–"

"Right?" He answers for you and you nod. 

"I don't want this to be the last time."

"It won’t be." Carefully, Jeongguk cups your face, his nose brushing against yours. He really wants to kiss you again. 

"Kiss me." You seem impatient, and Jeongguk gladly does as you request. 

Maybe, maybe this was always supposed to happen between you. 

[its-in-the-woods]

About Damn Time

~ Series of smutty one-shots with Congressmen Bucky Barnes ~

Masterlist

MINORS and AI dickbags GET OUT.

Synopsis: You and the congressmen have been dating for a while now, and you cannot wait to jump his bones any longer.

Pairing: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x You/x reader (afab) no use of y/n

Word count: 4.6k

Rating/Warning: Established relationship, somewhere between TFATWS and Thunderbolts*. CongressmenBucky, p in v, slight dombucky subby reader, Smut, oral (f), slight body image issues from everyone, ingering, creampie (wrap it), biting, kissing, cussing, fun to bad had

Author notes: This will probably end up being a series of cute, funny, and ridiculously smutty one-shots. Enjoy, tell your friends ;)

All mistakes, grammar, and plot holes are my own.

You met him at a veterans' fundraiser, he had been kind, caring, easy to talk to. He’d sit with anyone who wanted to speak to him, really let them be heard. It was clear that was why he had gotten the votes, his actual care for others seeped through his pores. It was so rare a sight in the modern day.  So when he came to sit beside you, you were surprised. You had arranged the event, invited many members who were running for congress, but Mr. Barnes had been the only one that had stayed.  The only one that couldn't keep his eyes off you.

“Thank you for organizing the event,” He said quietly, sitting beside you, right hand fiddling with the glove covering the left. 

You smile, “Thank you for staying. Means a lot to the vets to hear from you. “

Just like that it started. 

He’d show up at your job, always bringing coffee or something sweet. You were pretty certain that some of your co-workers had let slip what you enjoyed to the charming congressmen. It also helped that he never missed an event. Barnes was old-fashioned that way; he didn’t push, didn’t press things, just showed up. Until finally you gave him your number, and told him if he didn’t set up a date, you would. 

He picked you up at your place, flowers in hand, opening up your door and pulling out your chair. The place was small, tucked away in Brooklyn. The owner knew him by name, you caught him giving a thumbs up to James, Bucky. 

You knew then that you’d have taken him home that night. Months of talking and flirting, it had felt right. But after making out in his car like you were fourteen again, he’d walked you to your door, kissed your forehead, and walked back to his car. Promising it would be worth the wait.

That had been four dates ago, several coffees, and a dozen run-ins, and you were not waiting any longer. The man was going to be the death of you, and you were determined to get him through that door somehow. 

“So, I am leaving in about fifteen, going to stay at Chad’s place,” Your roommate, Dahlia, said from the other side of the door. “And I really need to pee!” She grumbles, “Isn’t this like your five hundredths date, is he impotent or something?” 

You open the door with a huff, “No, He is not impotent.” Stopping for a second you think of that. “Okay, just because he is over a hundred years old, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t work.”

Her eyes narrow, “So then why has it taken him so long? Look at you, you’re a ten everyday. And he’s just dragging it out.” 

“Oh hush. I am six on a good day.” You roll your eyes. “He’s just.” Your cheeks flush, making Dahlia gag as she checks her hair in the mirror. “Different, doesn’t like to rush things. Beside, this, what, your eighth time going back to Chad? You can do better.” 

It was Dahlia’s turn to roll her eyes. “Unfortunately, guys from the forties don’t just appear at my work like they do yours. And the sex is good.”

You wrinkle your face, checking that you have all your stuff in your purse. Phone buzzing in your hand. 

Bucky <3 : Be there in five. Can’t wait to see you.

The flush that creeps up your neck is totally normal, you tell yourself.

“Alright, hot stuff, I am out of here.” Dahlia grins, twirling a piece of her hair with her fingers. “Going to want all the details about your old man.”

You groan and she winks before taking off into the night. Checking yourself for the tenth time, you wonder if you’re overdoing it. The dress is emerald green, sweetheart neckline, long flowing sleeves, and mid-thigh slit. You wore black heels that weren’t too high, and a clutch that matched it. Chewing on your lip, you almost decided to change into something different when a knock came at the door. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you decide it's now or never. Walking over to the door to open it. Bucky stands on the other side, wearing black on black, the top couple buttons on his dress shirt undone, hair ruffled back as he takes you in. 

“Wow,” He blinked, his tongue wetting his lips. “You look fantastic.”

You let out a small giggle, “Not so bad yourself, Sergeant Barnes.” 

He chuckles, holding his arm out for you to take. You close the door behind you, grabbing his arm to start the way to his car. 

“It isn’t too much is it?” You ask quietly, as he goes to open the door. 

His eyes crinkle as he looks at you over again, “Never is, when it’s you.”

You roll your eyes and pat his hand before getting into the car. 

Dinner was at a steakhouse downtown, it wasn’t where either of you normally went, but man was the food delicious. Bucky told stories of dealing with the press, you had no idea how he managed all of it, and learning how to be press ready. Something along the lines of saying worry four times in one interview, didn’t seem to work well for them. You told him about fighting for grants and funding. That, despite the endless amount of paperwork, you still had more to do.

He’d hold your hand with his gloved one, thumb running over the top of your knuckles. Watching you closely as you spoke of troubles and worries you had. Reaffirming that you would figure it out, and he’d do what he could help. It was easy, it always had been. The way he understood without being patronizing, supportive, and not overbearing. Like the whole world stopped when you spoke.

Meal finished you sat, finishing up your glass of wine and Bucky sipping on whiskey.

“I was thinking-”  “Would you-”

Both of you are stumbling over your words. 

You bite your lip before holding up a hand, “No, no, go first.” 

His cheeks stained pink, “Would you like to come to my place?” Swallowing, his eyes glancing down at were your hands are linked. “Umm, tonight.”

Grinning, you nod, “I would love that. Was going to invite you into mine.”

His eyebrows go up, “Really? Got tired of waiting?”

Your face flushes, “I’d wait for you.” You reach over and grab both his hands in yours across the table. “But I am certainly not going to say, no.”

The bill is paid for quickly, the air between you is now charged more than normal, his hands don’t stop touching you. He holds your hand at the table as the bill is paid, as you get up to leave, his hand slides gently onto the small of your back. In the car, his large palm slips gently past the fabric of your dress to rest warmly on your thigh. 

Your skin prickles with heat, goosebumps running up your neck, when he squeezes slightly. His eyes on the road, but they glance over at your more, that unspoken quietness that has you wanting to pull the car over. Low music playing in the background, but your mind is starting to melt. It was finally happening, and you were surprisingly more excited than anxious.

He pulls up in front of a small apartment complex, it’s in a quieter, older end of the city. It should surprise you, but it doesn't, it’s perfectly Bucky. Stepping out into the cool night air you look at the area. It’s older, less generatified than many, small stores underneath the apartments. An older lady walks by, with a small white fluffy dog, saying hello to Bucky. She gives you a smile and a wink, and of course he is known by everyone. 

Grabbing your hand, he leans down and gives you a quick kiss, before guiding you inside. You follow eagerly, face already flushed as you ascend the set of stairs. Cursing slightly at the fact that you decided to wear heels. 

“Hold on,” Bucky whispers at a landing, before he is picking you up, one arm under your legs, the other holding your back. You let out a squeak before wrapping  your arms around his neck.

“Got to warn a girl, Bucky,” You giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Can’t have you worn out before we get up there now.” Bucky replies, before easily carrying you up the next flight of stairs 

He unlocks the door with one hand and pushes it open. He flicks on a light to reveal his home. The lights are dim, older fixtures that he has clearly restored, bathing the place in a warm glow. The kitchen is tidy, a rack of dishes sits on the counter, and a coffee pot half filled. The living room has a worn sofa, with a wall of bookcases, full of worn books, and a small tv in the corner that definitely has dust on it. It’s cozy and comfortable, a space clearly cherished and lived in. 

He carefully lowers you to the ground, you lean up to kiss him again, your fingers running through the hair along the back of his neck. He kisses you back, hand coming up to cup your jaw. Thumb making lazy circles over your cheekbones. You nip at his lips, hearing him let out a small groan, his free hand sliding to your hip. 

Pulling back, he leans his forehead against yours, a small smile spreading over his face. “Let’s get these shoes off.”

You hum, watching him kneel down in front of you, heart stuttering in your chest when he looks up at you. Blue eyes framed by dark hair, a warm hand sliding down your calf, as a cool one slips down over your heel and pops it off. He moves over to the next one, cool hand sliding up along your leg, his eyes following it. The other heel hits the ground, the metal of his hand stays on your calf, moving up and pushing the slit of your dress open slightly. He leans forward and kisses the skin on the inside of your knee. 

A shiver runs down your spine as your foot hits the cool wood floor below your feet. You hold a hand out, that Bucky takes, standing up, he leans down to kiss you again. Pulling you tight against his chest, you hear your heart thumping in your ears as your hands reach up to cup his face. His hands move to your hips, fingers digging into the material as he opens his mouth to nip at your lips. A small groan escapes as your tongue pushes into his mouth. The taste of whisky and him making your toes curl.

“You taste so sweet,” He murmurs, slowly pushing you past the kitchen, towards a short hallway.

Your back hits the door, and both of you fumble for the handle. It opens, and you both topple forward. You are pretty sure the neighbors hear you nearly scream as you fall. Bucky catches you and rolls so that you land on top of him. A giggle erupts out of both of you as you lie there in a tangle of limbs.

“Not what I had planned,” Bucky murmurs, his cheeks gone pink. It only furthers your giggling fit, burying your head against his chest. 

“Guess you could say you swept me off my feet.” Your own face red from the ridiculous jokes.

Bucky groans, eyes rolling, “Been reduced to Dad jokes.”

You continue the gigglefest, as the two of you get up off the floor. It was hard not to feel a little silly around him, he had that effect. Walls sliding down easily, making you feel safe, like no one else could.

“Where were we?” You lean into him, one hand on his chest, the other coming up to cup his jaw. 

He leans against your palm, eyes closing, as he breathes you in. The stubble on his cheeks makes your fingers tingle, as you rub small circles into the skin. Fingers run from our hips up along your sides, a shiver running down your spine, making you squirm. Pulling you closer his hands move to your back find the zipper, he leans in close to your ear.

“Think you’re wearing too many clothes,” He whispers into your ear, his voice a deep growl that makes the hair on your arms stand up. “Turn around.”

A shudder comes out, you do what he asks and turn around. Warm fingers find the zipper and slowly pull it down, as the teeth click, a cool finger runs down the now bare skin. A gasp escapes from your lips, his hands moving from your back up to the sleeves of the dress, slowly pushing them down your arms. His lips find your skin, kissing along the top of your shoulder. You shrug the dress down one shoulder, his hand pushing the other down. The dress slides down to your hips, pooling fabric around your waist. Bucky’s lips don’t stop moving. He kisses slowly down your shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist. Clothed body pressing behind you, one hand moving to cup at your breast. 

“Bucky,” You whisper, your head tipping back against him. Groaning as his one hand moves down and pushes the rest of your dress down. 

“Turn around,” He hushes, kissing down along your neck. His teeth scraped against the skin, your mind turning to mush as you turn to face him. 

You stand there nearly bare, save for a matching set of black underwear and bra, watching him look you over. His cool eyes going down along your skin, eyes moving along you like he was trying to burn the memory of you into his mind, 

“You’re stunning,” He whispers, holding your gaze. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nod, it wasn't, it couldn’t be, not with him. Right there you’d do just about anything he would ask. “I will, but it’s not. It’s never too much.”

A small smirk crosses his face, his shoulders roll as he pushes his suit jacket off. Fingers moving up to do the buttons, you move forward wanting to help, but he holds up a hand, stopping you. Butterflies blossom in your stomach as you stand back. Watching as he undoes the buttons, fingers easily slipping them out of each slot. He pulls the shirt out from the waistband of his pants, pushing the material back off his chest. You swallow, watching the wide expanse of his chest appear, the way his movement flexes the muscles. Hands clenching against your bare thigh with the need to touch.

The shirt snags where his shoulder and arm meet on the left side, his face scrunching in frustration at the material. You don’t hesitate, moving forward, one hand rest on his pec and the other goes over to the caught fabric. Sliding a finger underneath, you carefully work the fabric out before pushing it down. His body stills, his eyes flicking down to you. You hold his gaze as the shirt drops down, finger moving along his skin. Feeling the different scars that dot his chest, you flick down to the large scar where the metal meets the skin. 

You don’t ask, instead leaning down to kiss at some of the smaller scars, watching his breath hitch as you move over. Keeping your eyes on his you kiss down the ragged edges of his scar, you can hear his heart start to pick up. You start at the top of his shoulder, going down along it, leaving your kiss light, soft, leaving room for him to tell you to stop. Moving your hands, you reach up to gently touch his face, leaning on your toes, you kiss him softly. 

“All the details, the stories,” You whisper quietly. “I want to know every one of them.” 

A shutter rattles his body, and his hands are on you. Finger digging into your hips, as his lips crash into yours, it is hungry and desperate. You kiss back against the onslaught, your hands weaving into his hair, pulling just enough to anchor you to him. He backs you up slowly, your legs hitting the edge of the bed. 

“Fuck, wanted to do this for so long,” Bucky groans, kissing down your neck, as you both fall back against the bed. 

Your hands move down to his belt, and he swats them away. You moan. “Buckyyy, please.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. Want to make it a night to remember.” He smirks, resting so that he is leaning over top of you.

“It already is,” You complain, hands running along his chest and down his arms, squeezing at them.

He leans forward, kissing down your neck, down along your shoulder, around your collarbones. Resting on his metal arm, he uses his free hand to reach behind you and unclip your bra. Arching your back, you help him free it before his mouth moves again. Hand kneading at your breast, making you hiss as he leans down to suck at one of your nipples. A whimper leaves your lips as he laps at it, teeth scraping at the sensitive bud. 

Whimpering your hands move to grab at his back. The metal hand moves quickly snatching both of your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“You squirm so much,” He grins, holding you steady as you pout. Kissing your pout, he switches to the other nipple, making you squirm more, breathy pants coming as you feel heat pulse in your core. 

“Goddamn, you’re such a tease.” You huff, now trying to arch your hips up for some friction. 

Bucky grumbles, shifting so that his legs spread yours open, making it difficult for you to try and move up. The more you struggle, the more he grins, and he goes back to kissing down your body, stretching as far as he can reach with your hands pinned. 

“I am going to let go,” His eyes are dark with need, desire, swirling in the air. “If you move I stop.”

“Ahh, I should have known you were kinky.” You yip back, trying not to squirm. “It’s always the quiet ones-” Your breath is suddenly sucked out of your lungs, when he tongues just below your naval. 

His teeth nip harder here, making you shiver, he licks and sucks after each bite, leaving a squiggling line of bruises across your lower stomach. Going further down, his tongue moves down and licks along the edge of your panties. 

Your body clenches as you try not to squirm, fist balling up the soft bedding underneath. Nearly losing it when you look down to see him lying between your legs, hands holding onto your hips, as he grabs onto your panties with his teeth. Bucky looks up at your eyes, connecting with yours as he works them down. Moving them just enough that he can get where he wants to go. Eyes pinning you in place as he leans forward, thumbs pushing your fold open as his tongue flicks out and tastes you. 

A whimper leaves your mouth, as his eyes close, he pushes forward eagerly, tongue taking a deep sweep as he groans. The vibrations have your hands fisted in the sheets, mind melting into a puddle as he continues to lick into your core. 

“Please,” You whimper, legs shaking as his nose brushes against your clit. “Let me touch you.”

His head raises, lips and chin soaked in your slick, which just makes you want to reach for him more. Bucky shakes his head. Before doubling his efforts, he moves his left hand down, running the cool metal along where your thigh and core meet. Mouth moving up to nip at your folds, making you buck up, just as one of the cold metal fingers slips inside.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, he stops moving for a second, eyes focused on your face as he starts to work one finger in and out. 

Keening, your hips move down against the friction, it's not enough. As if reading your mind, he slips another finger in. Scissoring them and opening you up, heat starting to grow in your stomach. A cry leaving as he latches onto your clit, sucking and humming, the slow pace picking up as his fingers move deeper. They curl up looking for the spongy spot, when he hits your eyes slam shut body pulsing as he keeps moving. Fingers moving up and pressing at it over and over, combined with him sucking and humming on your clit has you teetering on the edge. 

“I am-” Your breath stutters as he pops off your clit. “Don’t you dare stop.” 

Grinning he moves his tongue down to wear his fingers are, scissoring you open so he can stick his tongue deep inside. 

“Goddamnit, Bucky please. Please.” You’re begging, the edge of release is right there, just under his tongue. 

The bastard chuckles, leaning forward to blow on your clit, “So pretty when you beg.”

You don’t have time to curse him out, as he latches back onto your clit, tongue swirling around as his fingers push up and against the spot. Eyes opening wide, mouth agape in a slight scream as pleasure washes over you. He doesn’t stop moving and sucking against you. The feeling keeps building, the fire growing, tingling out through your lower abdomen. It’s not enough and too much at the same time. You couldn’t help but let your fingers finally card into his hair, they clenched in and out. 

Bucky finally eases up, your thighs shaking as you try to find words in the haze. He moves up fingers, carefully slipping out of you, and you let out a huff at losing the sensation. Hands coming to cup his face, you bring him closer and kiss him, tongue pushing in so that you can taste a mix of you both.

“You broke the rules,” He teases, kissing the tip of your nose. His body is not quite laying on top of yours. 

A small giggles leave your mouth, “Still can’t think straight.” Your hands move down along his broad back, “Next time you’re just going to have to tie me up.”

Bucky grins, eyes crinkling as he kisses along your jaw. “Next time huh?”

Your hands roam down over his still cloth covered lower half, you squeeze his ass with one hand, the other moving to his front to work his belt open. 

“Many more times,” You grin, kissing his forehead as you slide the belt out. 

He sits back up, standing, and slides his pants and underwear down in one motion. Revealing his straining cock, it bumps against his lower abdomen, leaking enough to leave a mark there. You stare a little longer than you mean to, before your eyes flick back up to his. He smirks and crawls back onto the bed, his arms encasing you as he peers down at you. 

“So many promises,” He whispers, his metal arm hikes up one of your thighs as his mouth finds yours. 

Gasp escapes your lips as the thick tip of cock rubs against your folds, you are going to feel this, every bit of it. His hand drags you closer, letting you start to sink into it, and the feel of him starts to stretch you. Your hands digging into the flesh of his back. Moving your hips, you finally get him to sink deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” He hushes, kissing down along your jaw, tongue running from below your ear and down your neck. He found the spot where your shoulder met your neck and latched onto it.

He sinks all the way in, your mouth opens, gasping his name, throwing your other leg over top of his hips. Rocking up to meet his hips, your bodies flush where you join. He waits a moment, and you want to scream for him to move, to do something. So full, body aching and fluttering around him, still sensitive from your release earlier. 

Finally, he moves, slowly pulling out, then sliding back in, he moans into your ear. Saying your name softly as he continues to move, at a steady, unrelenting pace. One of your hands grips his hip, the other running into his hair, pulling him into a devastating kiss. You pull back, resting your forehead against his, his face slack with pleasure, yet lined as he holds back. 

“Don’t hold back,” You whisper quietly, leaning in to bite at his lip.

Something snaps in the air, his hips still for a moment, then his hands are gripping your hips, dragging you up onto his lap. His hips snap up making you gasp, strong arms wrapping around you as he starts to fuck in earnst. You can feel how deep he sits inside you, the way your stretched out, mind going fuzzy with the sound of your bodies filling the air. Nothing holds him back, you just cling onto him, mind goes blank. Your hand moves between you, rubbing at your clit. Making your insides spasm around him. 

“I am so close,” He whispers, grunting with the effort, muscle straining as he pumps into you. “Where?”

You kean, feeling your own pleasure renewing and blooming out. “Inisde, fuck please, inside me.” 

His mouth latches onto the top of your shoulder, biting hard, and a shout rips out of you as you come. Your eyes rolling back in the fog of pleasure and pain, making your whole body clench around him. His body spasms as he holds you close. His own body tensing, breath in short pants, heart hammering as he keeps pumping into you over and over. Metal hand placed on your lower back, as his rhythm falters, you feel him slam in cock twitching as he spills inside you. 

Breath still in short pants, you both collapse onto the bed, Bucky still holding you tight against his warm body. His heart just under your ear, body aching in the best way possible. Sweat and hair mingled together as you lay there happily. 

“You okay?” He whisper hands rubbing gently up and down your ribs, you could still feel him inside you.

“Mmhmm,” You mumble, trying to find words that seem to have left your brain. “Think you broke me.”

You felt him tense up at the words, you smack at his arm. “Not like that.” You giggle leaving light kisses across his hot skin. “Just a little foggy.”

He relaxes, moving so he can look at you, “That good or bad?”

You lean back grabbing a pillow to shove under both of your heads. “So, so good.”

He kisses you quietly, carefully unwrapping your legs from his before pulling out. You grumble at losing the feeling , but don’t hesitate to smack his butt as he goes to leave. 

“Behave,” He says with a grin. “Be right back.”

You groan, shifting a little, kicking and moving the blankets so that you can crawl underneath. The sheets were soft and comfortable, your head still riding the high of the orgasm. You could get used to this, a small smile crosses your face. 

Bucky slips in, two glasses of water in one large hand, another holds a washcloth. He puts the drink down, flipping the covers up, he grabs your ankles and drags you closer to him.

“You love to manhandle me,” You giggles, letting him carefully clean up the mess between your legs. 

“Think you like it as much as I do,” He grins, before tossing the towel into a basket near the closet.

You nod your head as you take the water glass, taking a few stips, “Not used to being thrown around, can’t say I mind.”

He drinks his own water, before crawling into bed beside you. “Good, cause you still owe me for breaking the rules.” 

~*~*~*~*~*

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3 Reblog, comment, like, more to cum *cough*

[slvbum]

youre on your own kid ♡ Rafe Cameron!

content WARNING: Rafe Cameron × Barbie!Reader, bad parenting, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, mentions of pregnancy, abandonment.

♡ notie note . . . reposting this bc it got lost n the other acc lol!

For nearly a week, Rafe had been crashing at Y/N’s trailer, and it felt like they’d carved out their own little universe. The world outside didn’t exist. It was just them, tangled up in each other, high on whatever she had stashed in her beat-up jewellery box.

The trailer was a mess, with empty beer cans, ashtrays overflowing, and her glittery thrift-store clothes strewn across the floor, but it was their mess.

They’d get high, and fuck with a reckless intensity that left them breathless, laughing, and clinging to each other. They’d sprawl on her lumpy mattress, passing a joint, her head on his chest as she rambled about absurd things, like how she’d be a pop star in a past life or how the trailer park was secretly built on an alien landing site. Rafe would laugh, call her “barbie,” and pull her closer. They’d raid her fridge for stale chips, make out against the counter, and fall back into bed, the rest of the world irrelevant.

And for once, Rafe didn’t feel like he was running from something. With Y/N, he could just be.

But by the sixth day, something nagged at him.

The trailer was quiet—too quiet.

No parents stumbling in, no shouting matches, no signs of life beyond her chaos. Her mom, Tammy, was a drunk who’d usually barge in slurring insults, and her dad, Earl, was a ghost who’d show up only to break something or yell. Rafe had braced himself for Tammy to storm in, maybe catch them half-naked and scream about him not daring to get Y/N pregnant. As it always happened, but it didn’t happen this time.

The absence was loud, heavier than the haze they’d been living in.

That afternoon, they were sprawled on the couch, her legs draped over his lap. She was sober for once, her eyes clearer but her movements restless, like she was trying to outrun something. Rafe lit a cigarette, watching her pick at her chipped neon polish.

“Where’s your mom been?” he asked, casual but curious. “Haven’t heard her yelling all week. Or your dad. They on some bender?”

She froze for a split second, then forced a giggle, her go-to shield. “Oh, you know, probably off winning parents of the year somewhere.” She flicked her hair back, but her smile was too tight, her eyes darting to the floor.

Rafe wasn’t high enough to let it slide. He sat up, exhaling smoke. “Y/N. Where are they?”

She shrugged, picking at a loose thread on her shorts. “They left. No big deal.” Her voice was light, but her fingers trembled slightly.

“Left?” Rafe’s brow furrowed. “Like, for a trip or what? How long they been gone?”

Her giggle was weaker this time, almost brittle. “Uh, like… three weeks? Give or take.” She stood abruptly, crossing the room to a cluttered kitchen counter, where she pulled out a crumpled envelope from under a pile of takeout menus. “They left this. Some cash, too. Real generous, right?”

Rafe took the letter, his stomach twisting. The paper was cheap, stained with coffee rings, and the handwriting was a messy scrawl. It was barely coherent, a rambling mess about “needing a fresh start” and “you’re better off on your own, kid.”

They mentioned leaving her a couple hundred bucks, like that was enough to make up for it. The last line stuck out: Don’t come looking. We’re done.

Rafe read it twice, his grip tightening until the paper crinkled. He looked up at Y/N, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at the floor.

“They’re gone,” Rafe said, not a question. “For good.”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, well, good riddance, right? Less yelling, more space.” She tried to laugh, but it came out more like a choke. “I mean, I’ve been on my own forever anyway. Same shit, different day.”

Rafe stood, crossing the small space to her. He saw it now... the way her shoulders slumped, the way her fingers dug into her arms like she was holding herself together. The trailer felt suffocating, a trash heap of a home she’d been abandoned in. He wanted to say something, anything, but words weren’t his thing. Instead, he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her. She stiffened at first, then melted, her face buried in his chest.

“You’re not alone,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You got me, alright?”

She didn’t respond, just held on tighter, her fingers clutching his shirt.

For the first time all week, the haze was gone, and all that was left was the raw, ugly truth of her life.

Rafe didn’t know how to fix it, hell, he could barely fix himself, but he knew he wasn’t leaving her in this dump alone.

“C’mon, barbie,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “Let’s get out of here for a bit. Grab some food, get high, whatever you want.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and managed a small, real smile. “You’re paying.”

He smirked, grabbing her hand. “Always do.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ©slvbun — written with love.

[innerfeelings1]

“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her.”

|| photo was taken from Pintrest ||

Summary -> 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧..

𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 || Honestly, just the basic mention of his abuse, normal twd themes, (knives, guns at most) if I miss anything FEEL free to tell me since this is my first!

A/N; this is my first! Idk if this will turn into a part 2 or not.. it basically just depends on where this goes. Kinda bad bc I’m sleepy (it’s 5am..) not proofread so tell me abt any mistakes!! Reblods are so soooo appreciated!! Enjoy babes ! ᥫ᭡

School wasn’t so fun, the homework, the dickhead boys, the mean girls, but Daryl was your reason your only reason. Every morning you woke up for school, he was the only thing on your mind at first it wasn’t even in that way you just enjoyed having a friend who wasn’t out for ur neck. Daryl was a loner but he wasn’t a dick, rather he was the sweet baby boy Merle saw him as. Merle was raised hard because of their father, always so worried about protecting Daryl from the boys at school (what you really thought they were nice to him..?) than from their own father they deserved peace a safe place, and you were Daryl’s safe place.

Daryl was the quiet boy the boy who for some reason didn’t have many friends until you came along. You understood Daryl’s quiet, he didn’t have to put on some mask around you.. Daryl could sit alone with you in a corner and oddly felt loved in silence. Merle always loved to call you his freak buddy whenever you and Daryl hung out you shared food and went on walks together listening to music, he was your best friend you had other friends but you were with Daryl more then any. Daryl found comfort in your quiet but he couldn’t stop himself from admiring your smile, the way your laughter warmed him up inside it scared Daryl because he never knew that feeling. One Saturday night during one of the biggest storms your town had ever seen Daryl showed up at ur window drenched in rain, his hair wasn’t so long at this time so the water would practically just pour down his face. You rushed to open the window and questioned him on why he was there, no response besides his normal Daryl gruff.. You stepped aside and welcomed him, closing the window as soon as he climbed in.

Daryl knew some things about you already by eavesdropping on you and your cliches conversations, he never meant to but he figured you hanging around him was just an act so of course he had to find out. (Surprise, he found out how highly you talked about him.) But this..? Walking into your room was like seeing a different person then what Daryl knew you acted to be so you’d fit in. Your room was clean..quiet barely any lights besides an orange candle shining the room and a whole bunch of white themed items, a few of “the smiths” vinyls hung up on the wall. Daryl smiled to himself on the inside, you were the person he wanted you to be, you weren’t fake you were just like him, just you were better at hiding it. The thoughts were quickly passed on when Daryl noticed you fumbling in the closet before you grabbed an oversized shirt and pair of sweatpants. “I know you won’t say anything, that’s okay.. but please put these on because you’re soaking wet and muddy and standing on my carpet my mom will kill me.” You spoke softly at Daryl, you didn’t want to provoke him. Daryl’s eyes met yours before he slowly took the clothes, you turned around the other way to give him privacy. You could hear him tugging off his pants before sliding into the sweats Daryl didn’t speak and you didn’t hear noise so you figured he was done, as you turned you immediately noticed the scars on his back, red.. bruised. Who would’ve done that to him..? The boys at school.. Merle.. there’s n-

“Quit ya damn looking! Ya nosy bitch..” Daryl had whispered shouted at you dragging your attention back to his face.. his pupils dilated and his jaw clenched tight. Daryl hadn’t even screamed at you, he whisper shouted but he called you a bitch in the sentence, you knew he didn’t mean it. An act of gentleness and anger in the same breath proved it, but this is the first time you’ve heard him actually speak words, He quickly shot the shirt over him as he avoided eye contact with you. “Who did this to you..? Are you okay- what can I do.” You would’ve stared literal holes in his skin if your eyes were lazers, The room sat silent for a moment before he finally met your gaze. “Jus’ let me stay the night.. please.” His southern accent made him sound agressive but you knew better than to see him like that, this was his cry for help, you were his breakaway from whatever those scars came from. (Which later on Daryl finally finds the courage to tell you about.) “yeah that’s fine- you just have to sleep with me or on the floor.” you responded to him, looking at him before looking at the bed and then back to him. “Tha’s fine” he mumbled before looking down at the floor and fiddling with his fingers, you caught on quickly to his fiddling before you walked over to ur bed and slowly crawled into it, patting the spot next to you for Daryl. He stood still for a moment like he was scared to get to close, maybe you’d bite, or you’d tell him off, try to kill him in his sleep. After a few partial seconds he sucked in all the bad thoughts and crawled up into bed beside you, despite how comfy ur bed was Daryl was stiff as a rock maybe even more stiff then a rock..you had made yourself comfortable and hoped eventually he would follow in pursuit, your arm brushed his softly before he relaxed more. Your next move was risky but it was Daryl, he needed this more than anything. You layed your head on his chest and brought your hand over his arm rubbing it softly, you two had never even had a touch of intimacy or any talk before but this felt right, even more then right this felt good. Daryl tensed at the sudden touch on his body before he softened up slowly, he enjoyed this comfort especially from you. Slowly and cautiously, Daryl stared wrapping his arm around your back and resting his head upon yours. Your eyes closed, your silent Daryl was being loud, talkative but not in words, actions would always speak louder then words and Daryl’s were practically screaming at you. You and Daryl both were drifting off to sleep Daryl’s breath slowed and yours synced you smiled softly to yourself.. you couldn’t imagine anything better. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Your eyes bolted open adjusting your head to look at Daryl, his beautiful blue eyes met back with yours. You grinned at him before moving ur head back to ur original spot on his chest “you’ll never be without me Daryl Dixon.”

That’s where you were wrong, if words could be jinxed yours were the most perfect because the next day the world changed in the most unexpected way possible.

Daryl had woken up early and left your house so his father wouldn’t find him, it was a Saturday so you did your normal. You cleaned your room and had just taken a shower, thinking of Daryl the entire time. After getting dressed you were relaxing in bed before you heard a screaming in your living room, your mothers. You sprinted into the living room to see.. a creature like thing attacking your mother.. it was human but covered in blood.. it had already tore out parts of her her throat as you broke into a sob and grabbed the lamp shade running towards them, hitting the lamp on its head as hard as you could slamming its head full force into the counter smashing its head open. You wanted to gag at the sight but your mother, her cries, her clawing at her throat she was suffering, choking on her own blood you knew what you had to do but you didn’t want to you paced into the kitchen grabbing a knife before sitting down next to her. She grabbed your hand and help it, spurting out words to you “I l-l-love you so much.”

That day changed you. You had to kill the woman who raised you, played the role of your father and mother both, the women who fed you bathed you and kept you safe and all you could do was end her suffering. The day escalated on and you realized what was happening, the world was having a zombie outbreak of some kind, atleast that’s what the news said before power was cut. Weeks, months and even years had passed. You burried your mom and learned how to defend yourself you learned what the creatures habits were like, you learned how to kill them, you had boarded up the house and occasionally went out on runs for food. The runs weren’t just for food, you were hoping to see Daryl, it’s been so long but some deep part of you figured he was dead. His house was destroyed looked like it had been burnt. After another month of living alone you had enough, you packed your supplies and fled from your town in search of something better, I mean their had to be something better then this.. right? All you ever wanted was to go to college, get a great job, settle down and have a family and be happy but now the chances of that were gone. There has to be more survivors there’s no way it was just you, you told yourself that daily if you had no hope you were already dead. I mean life didn’t have a point right now, death was already inevitable and now it was running around on the streets. You didn’t care if you died, there wasn’t anything big in life besides surviving anymore. I mean of course you didn’t want to die but if you had to it was just gonna happen. After leaving home you were on the road for the longest time, you saw a few people but most of them didn’t take interest in you, you had to kill so many of the creatures that you were basically profesional at this point. You also came on to realize they were called “walkers” a woman you met told you that, she died like everyone around you does.

Eventually after a while of running, searching, you gave up on that hope and had settled down in another home. It was a nice one, it’s the type of house you’d see in the rich neighborhood suburbs except this one was in the middle of nowhere. You cleaned out the house and walker proofed it as much as you could. The pictures of the previous family haunted you because what happened to them, they were living a normal life just like you and then the world fed us all shit. After awhile and some silent prayers you came to peace with it, the house slowly became your humble abode amidst all the fucking chaos outside.

One night you set out to get some food you were low on supplies to you needed some things, you had went out father then usually this time and you felt stupid for it, this sick feeling in your stomach just wouldn’t go away despite how hard you tried to shake it off. You came upon a gas station and pulled your knife out of its hiding prepared to kill anyone who tried you. Pushing open the door the little bell on the door dinged, you silently cursed yourself before continuing your way through the store. After clearing the entire store you started grabbing some supplies.. feminine products I mean the worlds fuckin ended but of course we women still have periods, grabbing some over the countertop meds, and bandages. Walking slowly looking at options something bright yellow catches your eye you stop and address your attention to it reading the packaging.. “Trojan” you laughed softly to yourself. “I’m gonna die 26 and a virgin- god this is beautiful.” You continued your walk around the store coming across the candy isle, you picked up a bag of m&ms and opened them eating a few, enjoying your moment you didn’t even hear the bell on the door ding..you did hear the growling though just a little too late.

You turned around and the walker was infront of you growling and lunging right at you, you shrieked softly trying to run before tripping over something and being backed into a corner you reached for your knife, the walker was so close, you honestly started to just accept death before-a soft plunging sound was heard before the walker collapsed to the floor. Your eyes followed its body as it collapsed its head hitting against your boots, It was shot with a arrow perfectly in the center of its head as you went to look up, you were gripped firmly and a hand was shoved over your mouth grabbing you and shoving you in a corner as something, someone pressed their full body weight against you, holding you against the wall. You were angry- not even angry you were pissed, I mean this person just saved your life and now they’re manhandling you, you prayed this wasn’t some man with a savior complex, you’d rather die to the walker then open ur legs for a pathetic man like that. The action of love and anger in the same again- how could they save you then just manhandle you? You paused, your thoughts all went silent, the dots in your head connecting, the act of anger and love together.

There wasn’t no way, it couldn’t be him. He was dead, Daryl was dead, this was some random man and you were going to die here, you weren’t safe. A warm breath was felt on your neck before the man whispered in your ear “ whole herd of em comin through. Can’t run, gotta stay here can you be quie-“ his voice was deep, he had a southern accent but he still sounded so gentle this couldn’t be Daryl you knew his voice and this didn’t sound like him. While he was blabbing on you were clearly offended, whoever he was saving your life or not had no right to touch you, even lay a hand on you. The man groaned and hissed through his teeth, his talking was cut off by you biting his hand. He let go of you and moved back some spitting his words out at you while looking at his hand. “Jesus girl figured you’d be a bit grateful I saved your life but you’re biting like sum’ skanky bitch!” He was to busy yelling but you were lost for words, it was Daryl, the Daryl, except taller, longer hair and the way his shirt hugged his biceps made you weak. He was different from the kid you use to know, he looked as if he was covered in dirt and drenched in his own sweat, which would make sense considering it’s the end of the world. “Daryl.” You whispered out at a loss for words. The only boy you ever took any interest in the only boy you ever trusted was here again except now he was a man. He brought his gaze to yours eyes widening in shock before his mouth drops and he smiles before grabbing you and pulling you in for a hug.

“I thought- you were dead, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again I searched your house- the whole neighborhood I couldn’t- how did you find me- was it an accident? oh Daryl...” your eyes started to tear up as you melted into his arms. Your quiet Daryl was alive, suddenly life had some meaning again. He pulled back from the hug and looked awkward for a moment, which you expected because deep down he was still the young senior boy when you were a freshman. After a moment of looking over your features Daryl brought his hand to ur chin and cradled your face “I tracked ya’ well I didn’t mean to find you here.. I didn’t think you were here- maybe a few more miles out.. thought some girl was trapped and I wasn’t gon jus’ let her die.. plus even if I was dead, no grave would hold me down never wanted to be without you.. I’d crawl home to you again and again.” He reached down and pulled the arrow from the zombies head “let’s wait out the herd and then we leave together, a’right?” You nodded quickly and smiled at him, even though it was pitch dark outside, in your world the sun was so bright it was blinding, you had your Dixon back and he was LOOKING for you.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

[slattlicker]

Request: reader is out dress shopping for summer sundresses and Schlatt tags along. Reader tries on something white, which makes Schlatt short circuit, and suddenly, all he can think of is reader dressed in white for their wedding day. Silly, ik but you're fantastic at this sort of domestic fluff. Thank you!

╭﹐✦˚₊· 𖤐 * maybe someday ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ╮ imagine: a summer afternoon, a sundress, and a boy who looks at you like he’s already planning forever. ╰﹒♡₊˚๑ *✧﹒✦ ࣪ ˖ ┊

﹒₊✦ a/n: thank you to the anon who sent this in ♡ this one made me kick my feet the whole time—hope it gives you that same fizzy, heart-squishy feeling.

warning: soft boy behavior. iced coffee hand-holding. dangerous amounts of compatibility.

enjoy! (｡•́︿•̀｡)♡

✧✧✧

schlatt is standing in the middle of a boutique that smells like citrus and linen, holding a purse that isn’t his.

he’s got one shoulder leaned against the wall by the dressing room, bags in hand, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his t-shirt, and a half-empty iced coffee dripping condensation onto his wrist. it’s fine. it’s all fine. he’s not suffering.

not really.

it’s not that he hates shopping. okay—he does, but only when it’s for himself. this? watching you pull hangers off racks with a little hum under your breath and dart back into the fitting room with a pile of color-coded maybes? this is different.

you like summer, and you like sundresses, and—maybe most annoyingly—you like asking for his opinion.

"be honest," you called from behind the curtain, rustling fabric as you adjusted something. "this one’s not too short, right?"

he took a sip of his coffee and muttered, “you say that like i’d ever complain about that.”

you’d laughed. “pervert.”

“your pervert,” he said, grinning when he heard you snort.

that was dress number three.

he’s on dress number six now. and honestly? he’s doing fine. better than expected. the stool they gave him is cushioned, and his phone has just enough signal for him to doomscroll in peace while he waits for your next dramatic reveal.

still, there’s something twitchy under his ribs.

not bad. just… buzzing. like he’s waiting for something, even if he doesn’t know what.

he checks the time. sips his coffee again. listens to the soft music overhead—some indie-pop cover of a 70s song he can’t place—and leans his head back against the wall with a soft thud.

you’ve been in there a little longer this time.

the curtain shifts.

he looks up.

and that’s when everything goes quiet.

you step out.

you’re barefoot, adjusting the hem where it clings a little at the thigh. your hair’s a little messy from pulling dresses over your head. your arms do this quick little sweep down your sides like you’re brushing off invisible lint.

t falls just past your knees, soft and simple. short sleeves, a little lace at the edge. cotton. easy. plain, really.

but it’s white.

and schlatt’s whole body just… stills.

you don’t notice. you’re too busy smoothing your hands over your sides, checking the fit in the mirror, adjusting the straps like any other outfit. your expression is thoughtful. casual. not at all self-conscious.

you’re not trying to make a scene.

but to him, it might as well be a fire alarm going off.

his chest goes tight. breath catches. he doesn’t know what face he’s making, but it’s definitely not the teasing grin you’re probably expecting.

you glance over at him. “what do you think?”

he should answer.

you’re just asking a simple question. does it look good? does it fit? is it flattering?

he doesn’t think you even realize what color you’re wearing.

but he sees it.

and all he can do is stare.

not at the dress. at you.

it’s the way the sunlight from the window hits your skin. it’s the way the fabric falls. it’s the bare legs. the bare shoulders. the softness in your mouth when you smile at him without even thinking twice.

it’s nothing.

it’s everything.

he sees you like this and suddenly it’s not a store anymore. it’s a different room. a different day. he’s not in a plastic chair with a cup of iced coffee and a bag slung over his wrist. he’s standing at the front of something big. huge. irreversible.

he sees a ring. a quiet ceremony. your hand in his. a reception full of ugly crying and cake and open bar regrets. he sees a blurry photo on the fridge from that night for years to come. your eyes closed. his forehead pressed to yours.

shit. get a grip, he thinks.

you raise your eyebrows. “schlatt?”

he coughs. nods a little too quickly. “yeah. looks good.”

“just good?” you say, half-smiling. “i thought this one was cute.”

he looks at you again.

you look beautiful.

his throat is too dry. he swallows, hard.

“you look…” he hesitates, then gives up. “yeah. cute. really cute.”

you beam at him.

he tries not to look like he’s panicking.

you turn back to the mirror, tilting your head as you consider the neckline.

✧✧✧

you’re back in your regular clothes now—your usual top, your favorite jeans—and schlatt’s carrying the boutique bag in one hand like it weighs nothing.

it’s a small bag. light. one dress.

just one.

“you really didn’t have to,” you say for the third time as the two of you head down the sidewalk. “white gets dirty so fast. i’ll spill something on it within an hour.”

“then don’t spill,” he shrugs.

“i’m serious. i’m like… magnetized to stains.”

“yeah, and i’m magnetized to you, so i bought the dress. let’s move on.”

you give him a look. he gives you his shut up and let me be sweet look right back.

you huff out a laugh. “fine. but when i spill iced coffee down the front of it, you’re paying for dry cleaning.”

“deal,” he says, even though he absolutely won’t let you take it to the cleaners. he’ll just hand-wash it himself like some sad little 1950s husband with a crush.

you keep walking, brushing shoulders with him as you pass storefronts—stationery, plants, books.

and then, the jewelry store.

you slow at the window.

he does too, automatically.

you lean in just slightly, pointing at something in the middle of the display.

“that’s pretty,” you say, half to him, half to yourself.

it’s a necklace. simple chain, gold. one of those little charms shaped like a clover. delicate in a way he knows you like.

he hums. “want it?”

you blink. “what? no. i just thought it was nice.”

“i think you should get it.”

you glance at him, eyebrow raised. “you’re on a weird generosity streak today.”

he shrugs. tries to act normal. cool. unbothered. you shrug back, wiggling your eyebrows as you sidestep towards the entrance.

"let's go in, then. check it out. maybe see some other charm options."

he follows you in without thinking.

the store is bright and quiet, all glass cases and soft gold accents. the kind of place that smells like new things. clean. intentional. time slows a little when you walk in, like everything inside exists a few notches softer than the rest of the world.

you wander first, drifting toward a case near the front. schlatt hangs back a little, still holding the boutique bag with the dress inside. his fingers tighten slightly around the handles.

you lean forward, humming softly as you scan the display.

necklaces. bracelets. dainty earrings.

but his eyes catch on something a few steps over. a small, velvet-lined tray. white gold. yellow gold. plain bands, delicate diamonds. some paired, like they’re already waiting for a yes.

he’s still staring when the clerk approaches.

“hi there,” she says kindly, polished in that way where nothing feels rushed. “anything special you’re shopping for today?”

you smile first. “just looking, really. i saw a necklace in the window.”

“we’ve got quite a few charms at the back table,” she nods. “take your time.”

you’re already walking that way.

and then she turns her attention to him.

“and you?” she asks. “you’ve got that look.”

schlatt blinks. “what look?”

“the look of someone who’s either about to propose,” she says, grinning, “or thinking about it really hard.”

he freezes.

you’re not even paying attention—you’ve knelt slightly to point at something under the glass, calling softly over your shoulder, “do you like this chain or the thinner one?”

he doesn’t answer right away. not because he doesn’t hear you. because his brain’s locked in.

the clerk laughs, like she’s seen this reaction before. “no pressure,” she says. “a lot of people come in just to get a feel for it. sometimes it’s months before they come back.”

he swallows hard. nods. “right. yeah.”

she leaves him with that.

and he stands there, still gripping the dress bag, eyes flicking back to the tray.

he can picture it. you. standing here with him. picking something together. holding his hand a little tighter when they box it up. laughing nervously when the woman behind the counter says congratulations before anything’s even happened.

you call to him again, voice bright. “hey, babe. seriously—help me choose?”

he moves toward you, heavy-footed. still half in a daydream.

his voice is steadier when he gets there, but his heart is pounding.

“the thinner one,” he says, barely glancing at the charms.

because it’s not the necklace that’s got him reeling.

it’s the picture that won’t leave his head.

you. in white. wearing a necklace...and a ring. and his name on your paperwork.

someday. maybe. well, not maybe maybe. definitely maybe. the nervous type of maybe.

✧✧✧

the jewelry store doesn’t last long after that.

you don’t buy the necklace—not yet, you say. maybe next payday. schlatt doesn’t push. he just trails after you, blinking into the sun, still holding the boutique bag like it’s breakable. like he’s carrying more than just a dress.

you loop your arm through his, casual and easy, like your body already knows the shape of his. like it’s second nature. he lets you pull him along.

“snack?” you ask, already scanning the street.

“what kind of snack?”

“pretzel stand. back by the fountain.”

he grunts in approval.

you end up perched together on a low cement bench under a patch of filtered shade. there’s a fountain a few yards off, gurgling gently. the breeze picks up every now and then, lifting the hem of your shirt, playing with your hair. you keep brushing it behind your ear without thinking. schlatt keeps staring.

you split an order of pretzel bites—cinnamon sugar, warm and doughy in their little paper tray. your fingers brush a few times when you both reach in. he pretends not to notice. he also pretends not to care when you steal the crispiest one.

he’s mid-chew when you glance at him, eyes squinting slightly from the sun. “what was with you in there?”

he tries to play dumb. shrugs. “what do you mean?”

“you looked like someone threatened your life with all the diamonds in there.”

he snorts. “you’re dramatic.”

“you were pale. visibly pale. visibly sweating.”

“i wasn’t sweating,” he lies, knowing full well he absolutely was.

you laugh, light and easy, and god—he wants to bottle that sound.

you pop another pretzel in your mouth. “you ever think about it?”

he glances at you. you’re watching him now, all soft and unreadable.

he swallows. “yeah. sometimes.”

you nod. “me too.”

there’s a pause. warm and full.

“i wouldn’t want anything huge,” you say. “like, ceremony-wise. just something sweet. outside, if the weather’s good. late afternoon. not too hot.”

“golden hour,” he says without thinking.

you blink at him. “yeah. exactly.”

he shrugs, like he didn’t just perfectly picture the light hitting your skin while you walk toward him in some sleeveless, floaty little dream of a dress.

“and music,” you say. “something live. guitar, maybe? but nothing with a backing track.”

“definitely something like that,” he agrees. “you need the mess-ups and the time they spend tuning the instruments. makes it feel more real.”

you smile so wide your eyes crinkle, and his heart does something terrifying in his chest.

you tilt your head. “how many people at your dream wedding?”

he considers. “less than fifty. close family and close friends.”

you raise your eyebrows. “that small?”

“yeah. just people who really know us.”

“no one we hired to fake cry in the third row...”

“no one we have to hug out of obligation...”

“and the food,” you say suddenly, pointing at him. “has to be good. fucking amazing food. like, actually edible. no mystery chicken with orange sauce.”

“sushi,” he says, dead serious.

you gasp. “wait. i was literally gonna say sushi.”

you both freeze. then:

“jinx.”

it comes out together. you stare at each other.

then you laugh. hard. sudden. your head tips back and he watches your throat move as you giggle, soft curls falling into your face.

he smiles, helpless.

you nudge his knee with yours. “we’re kind of disgustingly in sync, huh?”

“a little,” he says, still staring.

you take another bite of pretzel, now a little cold. “maybe we’re just right.”

the words hang there. light. effortless. he doesn’t reply right away, but he doesn’t have to. you don’t need a response.

you both sit in the quiet a little longer, the way people do when they’ve said something important without realizing it.

you clear your throat. “so. uh. you wanna marry me over sushi platters and cry in front of like, forty people?”

“you’d definitely cry first, though.”

“no way, i wouldn’t.”

“you would,” he says, already grinning. “you’d start your vows, get like, two words in, and choke up.”

“okay, that’s extremely dramatic.”

“it’d be cute,” he shrugs. “your mouth gets all pouty and you blink real fast when you’re emotional.”

“shut up,” you mumble, nudging his foot with yours. “fine. i'd cry first. but only if you were wearing something that made you super hot.”

he raises an eyebrow, curious. “like what?”

“mmm… black suit. white shirt. no tie. sleeves rolled up after the ceremony,” you say, ticking it off like a list.

he pretends to think. “open collar?”

“obviously.”

he hums. “with the watch you got me.”

“perfect.”

you pause. tilt your head. “and i’d wear—”

“something soft, a little fitting but still comfortable,” he says immediately. “with embellishments that make you shine, and not the dress itself."

you smile. “you don’t even know what embellishments i'd want.”

“i don’t have to, although i probably do actually know. i’ll just know it's perfect when i see you at the end of the aisle.”

it gets quiet again, but warmer now. safe.

you rub a bit of sugar off your fingers. “would you want me to take your name?”

he turns his head to look at you fully this time. “yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “i think it’d suit you.”

you laugh once under your breath. “we’d sound so...married.”

“that’s the idea.”

you both go quiet again, grinning for no reason.

then, casually: “what would you call me?”

he pretends to think. “probably ‘babe,’ still. or ‘Mrs. My Last Name,’ if I’m trying to be annoying.”

“oh god.”

“Mrs. My Last Name,” he repeats, way too smug.

you groan into your hands. “you’re gonna be unbearable.”

“you love it.”

you peek at him from between your fingers, and something about the look in your eyes—sun-dappled and dangerous—makes his breath catch. you say it like it’s nothing. like it’s a joke. but it’s not. not to either of you.

“maybe someday.”

his heart skips. literally. like it has the nerve to hesitate. he nods.

“yeah,” he murmurs, so soft you almost miss it. “maybe someday.”

[callmemonster68]

hot surprise | enhypen

You decided to surprise him with a nude, detail, he had never seen you naked

paring: enhypen x fem!reader 18+

warnings: nsfw

SUNOO Scene: Sunoo is taking selfies and sending them to you when you decide to reply with something bolder. Dialogue: Sunoo: "Look how good I look today, Y/N. Admit it, you’re lucky." Y/N: "You look amazing, but… I think I can top that." (You send the photo.) Sunoo: (gasps softly in surprise) "Y/N!!! You just… Oh my God, I don’t even know what to say." Y/N: "Then don’t say anything, just enjoy it." Sunoo: "I did enjoy it. Now, how do I see you like this up close?"

SUNGHOON Scene: Sunghoon is at the gym. You know he’s busy, but you can’t resist. Dialogue: Y/N: "Hey, are you super busy over there?" Sunghoon: "I’m on a break. What’s up?" Y/N: (sends the photo) "Just wanted to give you a little extra motivation." Sunghoon: (stares at the screen, speechless for a moment) "Y/N… are you trying to kill me? How am I supposed to keep working out after this?" Y/N: "Maybe you need a different kind of workout with me." Sunghoon: "I’m on my way."

NI-KI Scene: Niki is playing video games when he gets a notification from your message. Dialogue: Niki: "What is it, Y/N? I’m in the middle of a match here." Y/N: "I just wanted to distract you a little…" (You send the photo.) Niki: (immediately drops the controller) "What was that? I lost because of you!" Y/N: (laughing) "I thought you’d like it…" Niki: "Like it? You just became my only focus. Forget the game, send me another one."

JAY Scene: Jay is alone in the music studio, reviewing some compositions. You decide to surprise him. Dialogue: Y/N: "Hey, do you have a second? I wanted to show you something…" Jay: "Sure, what is it? Is it something important?" Y/N: "That depends… Does this seem important to you?" (You send the photo.) Jay: (chokes and almost spills his coffee) "WHAT?! Y/N, you’re… incredible. I wasn’t ready for this." Y/N: "I wanted to see your reaction… Looks like I got it." Jay: "I can’t take my eyes off my phone. You’re perfect… Can I come over right now?"

HEESEUNG Scene: Heeseung is practicing guitar when you decide to spice things up. Dialogue: Y/N: "Hee, do you want some new inspiration?" Heeseung: "Of course! What do you have for me?" Y/N: (sends the photo) "How about this?" Heeseung: (drops his phone to the floor) "WHAT? Y/N, this is… I wasn’t expecting this from you!" Y/N: "Is it bad?" Heeseung: "Bad? It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I’m going to need some time to process this."

JUNGWON Scene: Jungwon is reading messages before bed when you decide to do something unexpected. Dialogue: Y/N: "Are you still awake?" Jungwon: "Yeah, just getting ready to sleep. Why?" Y/N: (sends the photo) "So you can have sweet dreams." Jungwon: (stares at his phone in disbelief) "Y/N… I didn’t know you were this… Wow." Y/N: "Is that bad?" Jungwon: "Terrible. Now I won’t be able to sleep thinking about you."

JAKE Scene: Jake is in the middle of a casual call with you, complaining about his busy day. Dialogue: Jake: "Today was a mess, seriously… I just need something to cheer me up right now." Y/N: "I think I can help with that." (You send the photo.) Jake: (silent for a few seconds) "Is this real? Y/N, are you kidding me?" Y/N: "You don’t like it?" Jake: (nervously laughing) "I LOVE it. You just made my entire day worth it. I can’t wait to see you like this in person."

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿