007. I think he loves u more than me now @rose24207 m.list

008. if u say u love me, say it first @rinswirls

009. ?

010. under his skin @lecatty

011. close enough @rurusdiaryy

012. Only he knew by @speedywizardland (no masterlist, no tags but a million fics)

013. bf hcs @sushiyenie

014.Suho as your bf @rurusdiaryy

ANGST / FLUFF

001.crystal shields @weakheronicki

002. I forgot to remember the title (silent storm) @lilswooddd

NSFW / SMUT

001. teach me @eoriu

002. first time together @k1mbe3rly

003. this one has no title @yversz

004. jealous baby @slaybinnie

005. tonight I’m gonna give u all my love @ylvra

006. actually a whole buffet this m.list @juliettejwnewinesa

007. distraction @parkjihoonswifey

008. seven minutes in heaven @weakheronicki

019.there was one where reader put bandages on him (can’t find it)

020. handjob because his hand hurts

mine: check out the masterlist cause I can’t add any more links

001.friends help each other out (ft. Sieun) 002. pt. 2 003. birthday boi (ft. Sieun) 004. NSFW alphabet 005. tired after work 006. boyfriend headcanons 007. movie scenes (ft. Kang Wooyoung) 008. boyfriend headcanons (ft. Sieun) 009.fun fair 010.helping him out

021. let me tell you @yversz

022.arguments can be solved w/ a quicky

FICS (x reader)

001. every breath you take @carixie

in which a school ghost noticed suho was avoiding her. could it be that he could see her?

AO3

FICS Ahn Suho x Yeon Sieun

001. your need grows teeth (fic. to be updated/ unfinishesd. fluff. chap. 7 yet. 31.5k. my absolute fave rn)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77900631/chapters/204107526

[Suho has always been good to his sister's friends, but something about Yeon Sieun makes him want to do more than he should.]

002. close quarters (fic. to be updated. 9 chapters rn. 54.2k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/74376496/chapters/194150551

[Sieun and Suho have hated each other since the first day they met on the college campus. But everything begins to change when a fire at the dorm forces them to share the same room.]

ONE SHOTS Ahn Suho x Yeon Sieun

001. guess that’s ur purpose (one shot. smut. military au. non-canon. 9.8k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/82041246

[Or, a military au where Sergeant Ahn Suho goes out of his way to protect Private Yeon Sieun]

002. untouched (one shot. smut. 5.7k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/71040751

[Sieun has never touched himself. Suho can’t help going a little crazy over it.]

003. poison in my mind (one shot. smut. 3.3k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/77027296

[In which Sieun accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and convinces the one person plaguing his thoughts to help him out.]

004. I was weak that’s why I needed u (one shot. plot. non-canon. college au. smut. 6.5k)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/74213396

[Or, Sieun takes a liking to a scare actor dressed as Pyramid Head, unaware that the person beneath the mask is exactly who he's dreaming of.]

005. I’ll set u free from ur sanity (one shot. plot. non-canon. college-au. smut. 13.5k)

[In which Sieun’s boyfriend opens their relationship up. And then Sieun meets Suho]

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | @springtyme

After a long, brutal shift, a sudden accident leaves you reeling. Good thing dr. Abbot is there to make sure you’re okay, hovering somewhere between doctor and guardian angel.

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, part 02 | @/springtyme

When your daughter ends up in the ER, Jack helps you navigate the chaos with quiet understanding and gentle hands.

Glasses | @marismellow

just be healthy | @/marismellow

jack isn’t a fan of fevers.

i didn’t mean it. | @/marismellow

jack gets frustrated when he comes home to see your twins aren’t in bed. you had a long day at work and you aren’t in the mood to argue, but you do.

Imagine | @lifeofanogirl

His wife | @kenziexoxoxo

Dating Jack Abbot Headcanons | @the-bat-writes-imagines

night shift. | @lilyswritings

you and jack break up over hurt feelings and misunderstandings, and when samira joins the night shift, your relief turns into jealousy as you start to believe he’s moving on — unaware that all he wants is to get you back.

What he brings home | @carolina-thiell

living on (a latte and) a prayer | @weinthepitt

nothing to forgive | @/weinthepitt

the space between | @wonderlalicend

sometimes doctors need a second opinion - someone to tell them to slow down. for you, that person is jack abbot. it’s just a massive bonus that he’s also your boyfriend.

jack abbot x f!reader | @babyonboard

Honey | @speaking-to-thevoid

cared for | @sebsbarnes

maybe it was time for jack abbot to stop hiding behind independency and admit he wants to be cared for

Seems to be Her Type | @brxtnxy

They speculate. They assume. They get it wrong. Jack just watches, fed and unbothered, knowing exactly who she chose.

Ask For Help | @girlboss-things

Jack and reader are next-door neighbours, it's hot out, mechanic!reader, reader hurts her hand, and Jack's there to save the day (again), dog!dad Jack

Knowing Me, Knowing You | @traumaone

You and Jack are in an unlabled relationship of unknown seriousness, so unknown you didn't even know he had a second job.

I’m Sorry. | @ofthepitt

house tour, pt 02 | @domesticblisss

after eight months of having the 12th floor to himself, jack finally has a new neighbour. he has no idea how to react when she’s the opposite of what he expected.

new year, softly | @pittsick

you knew how exhausted Jack had been for past few days; working at the PTMC's ER during the Christmas holidays wasn't so easy. he was tired, feeling guilty over those he couldn't save and just needed a break. so when he get New Year's Eve as a day off, you decide to throw him a little surprise: fire burning in the chimney, a good dinner with everything he likes, warm blankets on the couch and obviously, all he kisses he needs.

older, better, stronger | @/pittsick

after a long and grueling night shift, you and jack, end up going out for drinks together. what starts as playful banter and mutual venting over work quickly turns into something more—jack’s subtle flirting and your unspoken attraction spilling into undeniable chemistry. the night ends with both of you finally giving in to what you’ve been holding back, leaving open the possibility of something more between you.

Stressing the f*ck out | @dreamland-library

You try to keep your distance from the rumour mill and Abbot, and you fail spectacularly…

workplace rumors | @stars-from-pluto

ATTRITION | @soulluvrrr

coming off a shift from hell, jack feels guilty for neglecting his pretty wife. don’t worry, he knows just how to apologize.

the night shift. | @betonlosingdogs

the night shift always has a bet going on. this time, santos is the unsuspecting victim.

Slow Mornings & Cuddles | @lifeofapittgirl

jack abbot who’s basically a soft dom. | @santosprincess

i’m on fire | @ivoirerose

jack overhears you talking about going on a date and he’s jealous. then he hears who you’re going on a date with, and he nearly implodes.

get it up | @/ivoirerose

you make a joke about jack’s abilities in the bedroom and he isn’t too happy about it

passing ships | @/ivoirerose

short little something about having a work crush on jack, not realising that he kind of has one on you too

TOO LATE ! | @lovebugism

when you and langdon get stuck on the roof of the trauma center together, he decides to stir up the ghost of your relationship to pass the time. but you’ve long moved on, and frank’s left haunting the wrong house.

jack abbot taking care of you after a night out with your friends… | @ebodebo

police scanner, part two  | @suprbrat

Snowstorm | @writeroutoftime

during a once in a decade snowstorm, jack finds you trying to shovel out your car

Impact | @imaginesofwonder

Emergency Contact | @/imaginesofwonder

A Man in Uniform | @callienotcally

you come home to jack trying on his uniform

Missing Parts | @/callienotcally

you and jack have been dating for a few months now, but every time you try to initiate intimacy he becomes distant; and you can’t help but feel like he’s hiding something from you

Opposites Attract |  @/callienotcally

a look into your relationship with a man that couldn’t be more different from you, but acts as if you were made for each other

Honesty is the best policy | @moondustfairies

The five times Jack hid you from his PTMC family, and the one time he realized he couldn’t be without you.

Chivalry Isn’t Dead | @confettighosts

Secret relationship | @secretlovezz

Thinking about being in a secret relationship with Jack Abbot and accidentally giving yourselves away because you’re too tired to try and put up a professional front after a long shift.

Trauma Bonding | @writingismycardio

In this one you’re about to face your biggest fear attending the memorial for the fallen soldiers. There’s a certain man who notices your uneasiness and he helps you get through it.

Parking Pass | @atlaslapis

Please Forgive me | @/atlaslapis

transatlanticism. Prologue. | @se7entyrell

Jack Abbot has had a terrible eighteen months.  Truly one for the books.  Losing his mother, and then you, sometimes he wonders what the point is.  If things will ever look up.  Until you turn up at the Pitt, with a little girl who looks exactly like him.

Sweet Little Lamb | @oldermenfucker

after years of being away from this place, Jack comes to spend his sabbatical with the woman he left behind, thinking all remains the same, only to find out about things he never thought was possible.

Champagne Problems | @/oldermenfucker

being your parents' only daughter comes with a package, and you only hope Jack can handle it as best as he possibly can. To your surprise, he manages to convince them just fine even though you are left to pick up the pieces. Aka Jack being your fake boyfriend for two days and things turn out to be not too fake.

𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 | @matchamorphosis

Tuesday | @notyourlovemonkey

On a random Tuesday, you wake up tangled together in the late-afternoon light, exhausted and half-asleep, when Jack casually suggests getting married before your shift.

Distance | @s-writing-s

Jack’s a good attending. He’s nice to you. Polite. But he doesn’t treat you like he does the others. He doesn’t send you smiles. He never laughs with you, and he never seeks out your company. It hurts enough that you’ve decided to leave and take an attending position elsewhere.

𝐃𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 | @croigealai

After dealing with an abuse case that leads to a bite, you go to The Pitt to get it checked out. Thankfully you have a handsome doctor whos very good at distracting you

frequent flyer | @dolloebaby

you’ve worked night shift with jack for years now, so how come the one day he covers day shift for robby, you’re sitting in the waiting room with a nasty bruise on your midsection and a laceration across your cheek

Different Kind Of Treatment | @megalony

(Y/n) and Jack haven’t told anyone that she’s pregnant. But when a patient gets rough with (Y/n), a situation escalates and Jack gets worried.

Sudden Drop | @/megalony

Working in the Pitt isn’t easy, especially when (Y/n) has diabetes and there isn’t always time for lunch breaks. It’s a good thing Jack is always looking out for her and checking her sugar levels.

My Soul Knows Who It Belongs With | @multifandomlover01

Jack’s dealing with a pesky resident on night shift who apparently doesn’t understand or respect boundaries

You Don’t Gamble With Human Lives…Or With The Human Heart | multifandomlover01

Jack and his fiancée have to have a serious conversation about his “hobby” and where they stand on themselves and family matters.

Just Behave! | @shoniebalognie

You needed to practice and submit assesments for your nursing program, thinking your doctor boyfriend would be the best. You thought wrong.

Be less obvious | @slthspd

Sadly, Robby knows Jack's wardrobe way too well, and recognizes a certain shirt on you.

The girl next door  |  @/slthspd

Jack is dying to get to know his neighbor better, even though he knows she should be off-limits. But then she ends up at the ER one night…

Stay, part 02 | @/slthspd

When he realizes your ex is harassing you, Jack offers to let you stay at his place until it's over. He didn't consider the possibility of getting a little too used to having you around.

In the Way: | @mehchuis

You cannot read social cues to save your life. Unfortunately, Jack Abbot can, and it’s driving him insane.

Nocturnal Sunshine, Part two, part three, | @/mehchuis

Night shift has a heartbeat, and you’re part of it.

STYLISTIC HELP | @b3ttybattz

Where your teenage daughter dresses you up for date night with Jack

When Shifts Collide, Part 2. Part 3. | @voidsagent

When you started your internship at PTMC, that’s when you first laid eyes on Jack Abbot. Grey curls and all soft crinkles when he smiled. Trying so hard to keep up the tough veteran exterior. Falling for him was the easy part, sneaking around to keep it from your older brother, Robby? That’s the hard part.

So’lek exhaled sharply through his nose at the thought, his jaw tightening as irritation flared again, fresh despite the hours that had passed. Reckless, loud, careless in a way that made his teeth grind—So’lek had spent what felt like half the day correcting him, again and again, on positioning, on awareness, on the very basic principle of not getting himself killed because he thought he could handle more than he could.

“You do not rush into a clearing without reading it,” So’lek had said, his voice flat, patience already fraying thin.

Nor had grinned.

Actually grinned.

So’lek had nearly left him there.

As if that were not enough, there had been the Sarentu to train. Eager, too eager at times, with quick hands, quicker questions, and eyes that burned with determination and something softer beneath it. They learned fast, which should have made it easier, but instead they pushed, always pushing, always asking for more, and So’lek had given it to them.

Again. And again. And again.

He had corrected stances, adjusted grips, repeated instructions until his voice had gone low and rough from use. He did not mind teaching—not truly—but today it had felt like pouring water into a vessel that would never quite fill, no matter how much he gave.

And then the hunt.

Eywa.

The animal had been stubborn. clever in a way that demanded respect and patience in equal measure. It had led him through thicker brush than necessary, doubled back twice, and nearly caught him off balance when the wind shifted against him.

By the time he had taken it down, clean but later than he preferred, the sun had already begun its descent, light thinning into evening.

Everything had taken longer than it should have. Everything had asked more of him than he had intended to give.

And now So’lek was done.

He rolled his shoulder as he walked, feeling the tension pull tight across his back, his hands flexing at his sides, claws curling slightly as if they still remembered the resistance of the bowstring. Fatigue clung to him, heavy and insistent, settling into muscle and bone alike.

All he wanted—truly wanted—was to reach his kelku, climb into his hammock, and not wake until the world decided it could function without him again. No voices, no instructions, no Nor. just quiet, just rest, just the absence of everything that had pressed against him since morning.

His pace remained steady at first, his steps sure and familiar along the forest path. Around him, the bioluminescent glow had begun to awaken, soft lights flickering at the edges of his vision as the world shifted from gold into blue, the air cooling with the slow fall of night.

And then, somewhere between one step and the next, a thought surfaced—small, simple, almost unremarkable.

But it changed everything.

His hammock.

Not just his.

Tamtey's too.

The one space that belonged to him and to her.

The image came unbidden, as it always did when his mind allowed it: her curled into the woven fabric, limbs tucked in without care, hair spilling messily across the threads, somehow managing to take up space and yet still look small. Sometimes she would be half-awake when he arrived, blinking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes; other times she would already be gone to rest, her cheek pressed into where his chest would be when he joined her.

Waiting.

Or not waiting at all—just there, as if she had always belonged in that space, as if the hammock itself had been made with her in mind.

So’lek felt something in his chest loosen. tight and coiled in a way he had not fully noticed until now, unwinding just enough to let him breathe easier. The weight in his shoulders did not disappear, but it shifted, settling into something more manageable, something he could carry.

His steps quickened, subtly at first, then just enough that he could feel the difference—the slight lengthening of his stride, the faint forward pull in his posture, as if he were being drawn toward something warmer than the promise of sleep.

The forest seemed quieter now. Softer. Or perhaps it was simply that his mind had stopped cataloguing every irritation, every misstep, every frustration of the day.

He moved past familiar roots and low-hanging branches, ducking without thought, his path carved into instinct. Ahead, the faint glow of his kelku came into view between the trees, unmistakably his.

And there, in that quiet space,

She would be.

Probably already asleep. Probably taking up more of the hammock than necessary, as she always did, leaving him just enough room to fit if he adjusted around her.

So’lek exhaled again, but this time the breath left him slower, quieter.

And for the first time that day, he found himself looking forward to something.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

Just as So’lek reached the edge of the kelku... He stopped.

Not because he was unsure, nor because anything had changed in the space before him, but because habit held him there, steady and unyielding. Instinct, carved deep into him long before Tamtey and long before even this place, rose quietly to the surface and reminded him of something simple, something ingrained.

You return. You provide.

His gaze flickered once toward the soft glow within, where he knew she would be.

Waiting. Or not waiting at all. It did not matter.

What mattered was that she would be there.

And what kind of mate would he be if he returned empty-handed?

So’lek exhaled quietly, the sound soft against the stillness of the night, and turned away from the entrance despite the pull in his chest that urged him forward. It was only for a moment, he told himself. It would not take long.

The forest welcomed him back without question, its quiet presence unchanged as he retraced his steps. The path to the cooking space was dimly lit, embers still glowing faintly from earlier preparations, casting low, flickering light across the ground. A few others lingered at a distance, their movements slow, their voices muted, but So’lek did not acknowledge them, nor did they disturb him.

He moved with purpose now—tired, yes, but steady, each action deliberate, efficient.

A portion of yerik meat had already been set aside from earlier. He checked it with a practiced eye, ensuring it was properly cooked through, still warm enough to be comforting rather than simply sustaining. Satisfied, he wrapped it carefully, his hands moving with quiet precision.

Then the fruit.

Yolvo.

His hand paused briefly over the selection before choosing one—ripe, unblemished, sweet. He knew her preference by now without needing to think about it, the knowledge settled somewhere instinctive, unquestioned.

Of course he did.

A faint, almost imperceptible shift touched his expression as he held it, something softer threading through the lingering fatigue.

Sweet.

His syulang liked sweet things.

The word settled quietly in his chest—syulang—familiar in a way that still surprised him at times. It had come naturally, somewhere along the way. Not planned, not spoken with intent to change anything, but simply… there. In the spaces between words, in the way he looked at her, in the way his hands lingered a moment longer than necessary when they rested on her.

He adjusted his grip on the food, securing it carefully before turning back.

This was simple.

This made sense.

The world beyond this rarely offered clarity, but this? Providing for her, returning to her, ensuring she was cared for in ways both small and necessary?

There was no confusion in that.

Only certainty.

By the time So’lek made his way back, the forest had deepened fully into night. The bioluminescence had grown stronger, casting soft blues and greens across the path, the air cooler now against his skin. Even the sounds had shifted, quieter, more intimate—the kind of quiet that wrapped around you rather than pressed in, settling gently instead of demanding to be noticed.

His steps slowed as he approached, not from hesitation, but from awareness—from care. He adjusted the way he held the food so it would not make unnecessary noise, his movements naturally quieter now, more deliberate, each step measured without conscious thought.

The entrance to the kelku came into view once more, that same soft glow spilling outward, drawing him in with a pull that felt stronger now, steadier.

So’lek ducked inside, and immediately, everything in him softened.

The space was small and familiar, carrying the faint scent of woven fibers, forest air and her. It settled around him in an instant, easing something deep and unspoken as his gaze moved instinctively toward the hammock.

His sarentu—safe and warm in his space, untouched by it all.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

Tamtey had lost count.

She leaned against the woven edge of the kelku’s opening, fingers tracing the fibers absently as her eyes scanned the forest beyond—again, and again, and again.

Nothing.

Only the soft glow of night, the distant flicker of bioluminescent plants swaying gently as if the world itself had already settled into rest.

The eclipse had passed long ago.

She had watched it alone.

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she exhaled slowly, the breath heavier than she intended.

He should have been back by now.

So’lek was not careless. He was not late. He did not linger. If anything, he was the opposite—efficient to a fault, always returning when he said he would, always exactly where he needed to be, exactly when he needed to be there.

She drew in a slow breath, steadying it the way he had taught her, forcing the tension down even as it resisted. There were explanations. There were always explanations.

The Resistance, perhaps—something must have come up. Another arrangement, another correction, another task that only he could fix because no one else ever seemed to get it right the first time.

Or the hunt.

Something could have delayed him. He could still be tracking, still moving through the forest with that quiet patience of his, following something stubborn that refused to be caught.

He could be—

Her thoughts cut off sharply as she shook her head.

No.

He would not stay out without reason.

Her fingers curled into the woven edge, tightening slightly as the feeling in her chest shifted, sharpening. A steady, gnawing worry that refused to leave once it settled in.

Tamtey pushed herself away from the entrance, pacing once across the small space before stopping again, her movements restless, unfocused.

She should have been asleep by now.

Normally, she would have been—curled into the hammock, half tangled in the fabric, drifting off without realizing she had been waiting at all, trusting without question that he would return and find her there.

But tonight, sleep would not come.

Not when his space beside her was empty. Not when the forest felt just a little too quiet.

She sank back onto the hammock with a soft huff, dragging a hand down her face. “You are being ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath, though the words carried no real conviction.

He was fine. He had to be fine.

Her chest tightened again.

“…he’s fine,” she said, firmer this time, as if saying it aloud might force it into truth.

Still, her eyes flicked back toward the entrance.

Again. Just in case.

A long breath left her as she leaned back, staring up through the small opening where the night sky peeked through, stars blinking softly above. The hammock swayed beneath her, slow and familiar, the motion usually enough to pull her into sleep without effort.

Not tonight. Not without him.

Her fingers drifted absently to the space beside her, pressing into the fabric where his weight should have been. It felt wrong—too light, too empty, the absence more noticeable than the presence ever was.

Time stretched, quiet settling deeper around her, the stillness growing heavier the longer it remained undisturbed.

Tamtey turned onto her side, facing the entrance now, her eyes half-lidded but refusing to close fully. Her body was tired, aching for rest, but her mind would not let her have it.

A sound interrupts her train of thoughts.

The faint tangle of beads shifting against one another, brushing together in a way she knew before her thoughts could even catch up, the sound threading through her awareness like instinct.

Tamtey stilled.

And then her head snapped toward the entrance.

Her eyes brightened, wide and sharp, something warm rushing through her chest so quickly it almost hurt, relief flooding in before she could even name it.

There.

A shadow at the entrance. A presence she knew without needing to see.

“So’lek—”

His name slipped from her before she could stop it, soft but alive, relief woven through every syllable.

And just like that, the night didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

The moment he steps fully inside, Tamtey doesn’t even think.

She moves—fast.

“MA' SO'LEKK!”

She’s off the hammock in a heartbeat, all sleepiness gone, all that quiet, gnawing worry bursting into something bright and overwhelming as she launches herself at him.

He barely has time to brace before she’s in his arms, her own wrapping tightly around his neck, her weight colliding into him without hesitation. Her face buries itself against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck like she’s trying to make up for every second he was gone.

“I missed you! where have you been—” her words tumble over each other, breathless, half-laughing, half-accusing, “you took so long?!”

And then come the kisses.

Messy, rapid, entirely uncoordinated—his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

“Mwah—mwah—mwah—!”

So’lek exhales, something caught between a quiet huff and the beginning of a laugh, as the full force of her affection hits him all at once.

“Sarentu—”

But she doesn’t stop.

Of course she doesn’t.

“I thought you got lost—no, actually you wouldn’t get lost—so then I thought something ate you—then I thought maybe you just forgot me, which is worse—”

“Mmm,” he hums lowly, adjusting his stance as she clings to him, one arm tightening instinctively around her waist to keep her steady.

The other arm still holding the food. Carefully.

Because despite her chaos, the way she’s currently attacking his face with affection he will not drop it. His grip remains firm, secure, the motion controlled even now.

Tamtey pulls back just enough to look at him, her hands coming up to cup his face as her eyes scan him quickly, checking in the only way she knows how.

“You’re late,” she accuses, though the edge has softened, dulled by the way her thumbs brush over his cheeks.

“You are still awake,” he counters quietly.

She gasps, offended.

“I waited,” she insists, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Obviously.”

So’lek’s gaze softens—just slightly, but enough that it lingers.

He shifts the food in his hand, freeing just enough movement before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s soft, brief, and entirely intentional.

“I missed you too.”

It’s quiet, almost lost beneath the lingering echo of her energy but it lands.

It always does.

Tamtey freezes for half a second, her expression going completely still and then she melts.

Her entire face softens into something brighter, warmer, her forehead dropping lightly against his as a small, satisfied hum escapes her.

“…you’re forgiven,” she decides immediately.

Of course.

So’lek huffs softly again, something warmer this time, his free hand rising to rest at the back of her head, fingers threading lightly into her hair to steady her where she leans into him.

“Good,” he murmurs.

Her nose nudges against his again, slower now, softer, the earlier rush of energy settling into something quieter, more content now that he’s here.

Then her gaze flicks downward.

Pauses.

“…what is that?”

So’lek follows her gaze, as if only now remembering.

“Food.”

“For me?” Her voice lifts again, bright—but softer this time, fond rather than frantic.

He nods once.

“Of course.”

Tamtey stares at him for a moment, something shifting in her expression. something dangerously soft, entirely unguarded.

“…you brought me food,” she repeats, quieter now.

“What kind of mate would I be if I did not?” he replies simply.

That’s all it takes.

She lets out a small, emotional sound—half laugh, half something else—and immediately leans in again, pressing another series of kisses to his face, slower this time, lingering.

“Mwah—you’re the best—mwah—don’t ever leave again—mwah—”

“I left for a few hours.”

“Too long.”

He doesn’t argue.

Instead, he shifts his hold on her, guiding her back toward the hammock with steady, careful steps. She stays wrapped around him, still clinging, still sneaking little kisses wherever she can reach as they move.

By the time they reach it, she’s already halfway draped over him again, her energy dimming into something softer, sleepier, her movements slower but no less affectionate.

And So’lek still tired, still aching— but no longer weighed down.

Not when she’s like this.

Not when she’s his.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

They settle into the hammock like it’s second nature, the woven ropes shifting slightly as So’lek lowers himself first, steadying the structure with a practiced hand before guiding Tamtey down with him. The moment she’s within reach, she doesn’t bother sitting properly—of course she doesn’t—half climbing over him instead, one leg hooked over his, her arms still loosely wrapped around his shoulders like she has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“…you are difficult,” he murmurs, though there’s no weight behind the words.

“You love it,” she shoots back immediately, already reaching for the food he had set aside.

He doesn’t deny it. He never does.

The scent of the yerik meat fills the small space as she unwraps it, the warmth and richness of it settling into the air between them. Her expression shifts instantly—softening, brightening—in that way that always seems to settle something deeper in his chest.

“You really brought this for me,” she says again, softer now, as though still processing it.

So’lek gives a small nod. “Eat.”

She tears off a piece without hesitation and then, just as quickly, holds it up toward him, her gaze firm with quiet expectation.

“First bite is yours.”

“I brought it for you.”

“And I am giving it to you,” she counters, tilting her head just slightly as if daring him to argue.

He studies her for a moment.

The way her mouth sets with quiet stubbornness. The warmth in her eyes. The simple, unwavering refusal to lower her hand.

Then, without further argument, he leans forward and takes the bite.

Taletey grins immediately, pleased in a way that is far too proud for something so small.

“See? Not so hard.”

So’lek exhales softly. something between a sigh and the hint of a laugh before taking a piece for himself, holding it out toward her in return.

Her smile widens at that.

“Oh, now you want to share—”

“Eat,” he repeats.

She does.

And just like that, it becomes a rhythm between them. Back and forth, the two of them sharing in quiet tandem, her fingers brushing lightly against his lips, his hand steady and deliberate as he offers her each bite in return. There is no rush in the way they move, no urgency in the moment—only care, wrapped in something familiar and deeply unspoken.

By the time they reach the yolvo fruit, Tamtey has already begun to settle further into him, her earlier burst of energy slowly softening into something gentler, something more rooted in comfort than motion.

She hums softly as she takes a bite, her eyes drifting closed for just a moment. “This one’s sweet.”

“I know.”

Her eyes open again, flicking up toward him with quiet amusement.

“…what took you so long?”

The question carries none of its earlier sharpness. No accusation. Only curiosity, gentle and open, as her fingers rest lightly against his arm.

So’lek is quiet for a moment, not because he hesitates, but because he gathers the words carefully before speaking.

“The Resistance needed adjustments,” he begins, his voice low and steady. “Routes were inefficient. Supplies misplaced.”

Tamtey makes a small face at that. “Of course they were.”

A faint flicker of amusement touches his expression.

“And Nor,” he adds.

She groans immediately. “No.”

“Yes.”

“What did he do this time?”

So’lek exhales lightly through his nose before answering. “Entered a clearing without reading it.”

Taletey gasps, scandalized. “Absolutely not.”

“He survived.”

“Well, unfortunately,” she mutters, though there’s a trace of reluctant humor in it, before nudging his shoulder lightly. “You didn’t leave him there, did you?”

So’lek glances down at her, expression calm, almost unreadable.

“…no.”

“Shame.”

“They always need training,” she murmurs.

“They push too hard.”

“That sounds familiar,” she teases lightly, though her hand settles more firmly on his arm, thumb brushing slowly over his skin in a way that grounds both of them.

So’lek doesn’t pull away.

“The hunt was delayed,” he continues. “The animal was persistent.”

Tamtey studies him for a moment, her expression shifting subtly as she takes in his posture, the lingering tension still held in his shoulders. Her hand slides up, resting against him with quiet intention, her touch firm but gentle as she presses into the muscle there.

“You worked too hard,” she says.

She sighs softly and leans in, pressing her forehead briefly against his jaw, her voice softening even further as she speaks again.

“You don’t always have to fix everything.”

“…but I know you will anyway.”

His hand shifts at her back, steadying her, pulling her just a fraction closer in response, his touch firm but careful, as if anchoring her to him in the same quiet way she anchors him.

She melts into it without resistance.

They fall back into their rhythm easily—bite for bite, slow and unhurried. Taletey hums softly as she eats, her fingers slightly sticky from the fruit, though she pays it no mind, still talking, still smiling, still leaning into him like she belongs there without question.

She does.

So’lek watches her for a moment longer than necessary.

Then reaches for her hand.

Not abruptly. Just a steady, familiar motion until her fingers rest in his grasp.

She blinks up at him.

“What—”

He tilts her hand slightly and, without ceremony, leans in to lick the trace of fruit from her fingertips

slowly and deliberately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Tamtey freezes.

Just for a moment.

And then her entire expression brightens.

“…oh?”

“So that’s what we’re doing?” she says, voice shifting instantly into something playful.

So’lek releases her hand, calm as ever, though there is the faintest shift in his expression.

“You were messy.”

She gasps. “Excuse you—”

“You were messy.”

She narrows her eyes at him, clearly considering her next move, before leaning in closer, inspecting his face with exaggerated seriousness.

“…hold still.”

He does not move.

Not because he has to—but because he wants to see what she will do.

Her gaze traces over his features before she hums softly, satisfied.

“Aha.”

“What.”

“You have something,” she says.

“Where.”

Instead of answering she cups his face and presses a quick, precise kiss to the corner of his mouth, licking away the remnants of the sweet fruit.

“There.”

So’lek blinks once.

Then exhales quietly, something warm settling in his chest as he looks at her—really looks at her in that moment.

“…that was unnecessary.”

She grins, completely unbothered.

“Was it?”

A pause.

“You didn’t stop me.”

He doesn’t answer that.

She settles back against him as though nothing happened, as though kissing him were as ordinary as breathing, her head finding its place against his chest once more while her fingers begin to trace slow, absent patterns along his arm.

“Next time,” she murmurs, “try not to get food on your face.”

“…next time,” he replies quietly, “you try not to get your fingers messy.”

She snorts softly.

“Unlikely.”

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

The food is forgotten somewhere between them.

The hammock sways gently, its motion slow and soothing as the night deepens around them, the woven fibers shifting softly beneath their combined weight.

Tamtey leans back just slightly, tugging him with her until they’re both angled enough to see through the opening above.

Stars.

Scattered across the sky like something delicate and endless, distant yet constant.

“Look,” she whispers, pointing lazily. “That one’s brighter tonight.”

So’lek follows her gaze without a word.

He doesn’t speak. But he watches.

Because she wants him to.

Her fingers find his again, absentmindedly tracing along his knuckles as her voice drifts, soft and unhurried, pointing out shapes that don’t quite exist, existing only in the quiet space between them.

He listens. Not to the stars. But to her.

So’lek’s hand rests at her back, his fingers moving in small, absent motions—grounding, familiar, as though confirming without needing to think that she is still there, still real, still beside him.

She tilts her head slightly, her voice slipping into something softer, quieter.

“…So’lek,” she murmurs.

Her fingers shift, trailing along his arm, then down until they rest at his wrist. A quiet question.

He stills for just a moment.

Then his gaze lowers to her.

She’s looking up at him now, eyes half-lidded but clear, something deeper settling beneath the softness. something that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

“Come here,” she whispers.

They move together without hurry, the hammock dipping slightly under the shift as they adjust, sitting up just enough to face one another.

Unhurried. Always unhurried with him.

Her hands rise first, gentle as they find his queue, her touch careful, reverent even in its softness. There is no teasing now, no brightness spilling out of her.

only warmth, steady and sure.

So’lek mirrors her, his movements precise but controlled, guiding his own queue forward.

For a moment, they pause.

Close enough to feel each other’s breath, foreheads nearly touching, the space between them thin and quiet.

Her eyes flick to his.

His remain steady on hers.

And then Connection.

The world shifts.

Not in sound, but in presence.

The forest still exists. The night still hums softly around them. The stars remain above, distant and unchanged—but everything else fades, blurring into something that no longer matters.

Tamtey exhales slowly, her shoulders loosening as something deeper settles over her, the restlessness from earlier dissolving completely into stillness.

So’lek’s hand steadies at her arms, grounding but gentle, his presence unwavering, solid in a way that holds without pressing.

It isn’t overwhelming or loud.

but rather warm and full.

Familiar in a way that goes beyond words.

Her forehead rests lightly against his when they settle again, still connected, her breath slow and even now, her entire body finally at ease.

“…hi,” she whispers, like she’s seeing him all over again.

So’lek’s lips twitch faintly.

“Hi.”

A quiet huff of laughter leaves her, soft and sleepy, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest again as she leans into him fully, letting herself sink into the comfort of him.

The bond lingers between them like a shared heartbeat.

No urgency. No rush.

His hand lifts slowly, brushing along her cheek, his thumb settling just beneath her eye, the motion careful, almost absent in its tenderness as he studies her face in the quiet.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

So’lek almost falls asleep.

almost.

“…So’lek.”

A low hum answers her automatically, his hand shifting at her back in a slow, instinctive motion that draws her closer, keeping her anchored to him even as sleep tugs at the edges of his awareness.

There’s a pause, like she’s weighing the words before she lets them go.

“I visited the tsahìk today.”

So’lek’s eyes open.

Not sharply. Not with alarm.

But with awareness, the kind that settles into his body before it ever reaches his expression. He stills beneath her, tension threading lightly through his muscles as his focus narrows, sharpening in that controlled way it always does when something feels off.

“The tsahìk,” he repeats, his voice low, steady.

“Why.”

His hand moves without drawing attention to it, brushing along her arm, then her side, checking without making the concern obvious.

Tamtey feels it anyway.

She lifts her head just enough to look at him—and then she smiles.

Soft. Sleepy.

Bright in a way that doesn’t match his concern at all.

His brow tightens, just slightly.

“You are injured?” he asks.

“No.”

“Sick?”

“No,” she repeats, a quiet laugh slipping out, light and unbothered.

His hand stills against her, his gaze sharpening as it lingers on her face, searching now with more focus, trying to understand what she isn’t saying.

“…then why.”

Tamtey doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, her hand drifts downward, resting lightly against her stomach. small, almost absent in its movement, but entirely intentional.

So’lek follows it.

And for a moment, nothing happens.

Then, it settles.

The realization doesn’t strike all at once; it unfolds, quiet and undeniable, until everything in him goes still.

as though the world has narrowed to that single point beneath her hand.

“…syulang,” he says, more softly now.

She doesn’t speak.

She only watches him, that same gentle smile lingering, her eyes warmer now, holding something she’s been carrying carefully all this time.

His gaze shifts—from her face, to her hand, and back again.

“You are certain,” he asks, his voice lower than before, each word measured with care.

She nods.

“I am.”

So’lek exhales, slow and controlled—but different than before. Something in his chest shifts, deep and steady, unfamiliar in its weight, in its quiet magnitude.

His hand moves, more deliberate than anything he’s done all day, coming to rest over hers where it lies against her stomach. His touch is careful, almost tentative in a way that doesn’t come naturally to him, like he’s aware of something fragile beneath his hands.

“…ours,” he murmurs.

Tamtey’s smile deepens, softening even further as she looks at him.

“Ours.”

His thumb brushes once across the back of her hand, grounding motions that make the moment real, anchor it into something solid.

Taletey watches him, her earlier brightness melting into something quieter, something deeper, her entire expression soft with it.

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” she whispers.

“I am.”

She huffs softly, nudging her forehead against his in a small, familiar gesture.

“Don’t. You’re going to scare it away.”

So’lek exhales quietly, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“That is not how this works.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “But still.”

His arm tightens around her then, drawing her closer as he leans down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead. the contact deliberate and unhurried.

Then lower.

Just above where her hand rests.

Then she melts into him again, her arms wrapping around him as she buries her face into the curve of his neck, her body fitting against his like it always does.

“You’re happy,” she murmurs.

Not a question. So’lek’s hand settles firmly at her back, steady and sure.

“Yes.”

And now there is something more.

Not just the quiet, steady love they have built between long days and tired nights. Not just them.

Something growing.

Something theirs.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

Her voice drifts up again, softer now, the edges of her words already beginning to blur as sleep pulls at them.

“…we need names.”

So’lek answers with a low hum, his eyes heavy, his attention resting only on the warmth against him.

“We do.”

A quiet pause settles between them, unhurried and full. He can feel her breathing where she lies against his chest, slow and steady, her presence grounding in a way that makes the rest of the world feel far away.

Then, faint but certain, a smile touches her voice.

“It’s going to be something strong.”

“It will be,” he replies, calm and sure.

“And pretty,” she adds, almost immediately, as if the thought cannot wait.

Something soft flickers at the corner of his mouth.

“…and strong.”

She shifts against him, nudging her forehead into his chest in quiet protest, stubborn even like this. “Both.”

His arm tightens slightly around her, keeping her close without effort.

“Both,” he agrees, his voice gentler now.

After that, their conversation loosens, drifting into something softer. Words come slower, less precise, slipping between them like the night air.

“What if it’s loud?” she murmurs, the question barely more than breath.

“It will be.”

A small huff escapes her. “Rude.”

“You are loud.”

“I am expressive,” she corrects, quieter now but no less certain.

A low breath of amusement leaves him, warm and quiet, his hand moving idly along her arm in a slow, absent motion.

“Mm.”

Her voice begins to fade after that, stretching at the edges, her words softening as sleep takes hold.

“But… names,” she insists again, more faint this time, like she is holding onto the thought with the last of her energy.

So’lek does not answer right away.

“If it is a boy,” he says at last, his voice low and steady, “he will earn his name.”

Tamtey hums softly in response, already slipping deeper into sleep, the sound small and content.

“Mhm… okay…”

The quiet lingers again, gentle and unbroken.

Then his voice returns, softer.

“If it is a girl…”

“…we will name her Aha'ri... Like your late sister”

The name settles between them, quiet and certain.

For a moment, Tamtey does not respond.

Her breath catches, just slightly, enough for him to feel it against his chest. The slow rhythm of her breathing stutters, then stills, like something in her has been pulled backward before she can stop it. Her fingers, resting against him, curl faintly into his side.

Not pain, not fully. But the memory of it. The kind that never really leaves.

So’lek feels it immediately.

His arm tightens around her without thinking, grounding, steady. He does not rush to fill the silence. He lets her have it, lets the weight of the name settle the way it needs to.

After a moment, she shifts closer instead of away, pressing her face more firmly into his chest as if choosing this over whatever tried to surface.

When she speaks, her voice is softer than before, but clearer than sleep alone would make it.

“…she would have liked that,” Tamtey murmurs.

His hand moves slowly along her arm, a quiet reassurance.

“She would have,” he answers.

A small breath leaves her, uneven at first, then easing as she settles again. Her grip loosens, though she stays close, closer than before.

“…Aha'ri,” she repeats, barely a whisper now, like she is testing the name in a gentler place.

So’lek dips his head again, resting it lightly against her hair this time, his presence steady and certain.

“Yes.”

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

The hammock continues to sway gently beneath them, mulling them to sleep.

Fingers remain loosely intertwined. Foreheads touch. There are soft, fleeting kisses exchanged in the quiet, carrying everything they do not need to say.

At some point, her words begin to fade.

“…you came back,” she murmurs, barely audible.

“I said I would.”

So’lek looks down at her. Her face is soft now. Lashes resting against her cheeks, lips slightly parted as her breathing evens out. Her cheek presses against his, warm and squishy.

So’lek exhales quietly, the breath leaving him slow and steady as the last of the day finally loosens its hold.

So’lek lets his eyes fall shut, his hold on her firm and certain, unyielding even in rest.

And beneath the soft hush of the forest, they fall asleep together.

୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

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୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧ ─── ♡ ─── ୨୧

So’lek has already said no.

Twice, technically—once with a quiet shake of his head, once with a flat “No.” Both delivered with the same calm certainty he uses when scouting routes or dismantling RDA tech. Final. Unmovable.

The Zeswa camp sprawls across the plains in the distance, alive with motion and sound. Fires dot the horizon like fallen stars. Drums roll low and steady, a rhythm that carries through the ground itself, vibrating up through bone and muscle. Laughter rises and falls on the wind. The air smells of smoke, fermented drink, and something sweet you don’t recognize.

It’s loud. Open. Too exposed.

So’lek stands at the edge of it all, arms crossed, posture loose, gaze moving slowly through the crowd with quiet, habitual awareness.

You, on the other hand, feel the pull of the music immediately.

Someone has already smeared pale paint along your cheekbones, careless and uneven. There’s more on your hands, faintly luminous where it catches the firelight. You turn back toward him with a grin that’s just a little too pleased with itself.

“You’re really going to stand there all night?” you ask.

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes and step closer, invading his carefully kept space without hesitation. Your fingers close around his wrist—warm, confident, familiar in a way that makes his jaw tighten.

So’lek watches the fires for a long moment before speaking.

“You don’t need me for this,” he says quietly. “You can go. I’ll stay here.”

It’s meant to be reasonable. Protective. Distance offered the way he always does.

You still. Your ears dip before you can stop them.

It’s small—instinctive—but he sees it immediately. The brightness in your eyes dims, not into hurt—but into quiet, unmistakable disappointment.

You let out a small, tired sigh.

You keep your gaze on him. “I don’t want to go alone.”

So’lek exhales slowly through his nose, gaze dropping for just a moment.

Then he looks at you. Really looks.

He hesitates, weighing something you can’t quite read.

You meet his eyes and tilt your head just slightly, ears still low, lashes lifting in quiet, unmistakable appeal.

“Pretty please,” you add softly.

He closes his eyes. Just for a second.

Then he rolls them, slow and deliberate, like he can’t quite believe this is working.

“…Fine,” he says.

He pauses, then adds pointedly,

“For a little while.”

A beat.

“Then I go. I’m tired.”

Satisfied relief flashes across your face. You grin at him, slow and unmistakably victorious.

“Deal,” you say lightly.

Then, just because you can’t help yourself,

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

His eyes narrow a fraction.

“I’m not dancing.”

You pause. Consider.

Then, wisely, you lift both hands in surrender, smile turning innocent again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Before he can add anything else, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

It lasts less than a heartbeat. It still hits him like a physical strike.

His breath catches—just barely. Heat blooms along his cheek, up the edge of his ear. He stills on instinct, jaw tightening as he forces himself not to turn his head, not to follow the contact you’ve already stolen.

By the time he looks at you again, you’re already pulling back, expression far too pleased with yourself.

You turn toward the fires and start walking, not even checking to see if he’ll follow. You already know he will.

He keeps his gaze forward.

The closer you get to the heart of the camp, the warmer the air becomes.

The main bonfire rises ahead of you, flames leaping high enough to paint the undersides of clouds in gold and ember-red. The ground around it is packed flat from use, ringed with people sitting cross-legged or sprawled on woven hides, cups in hand, laughter threading through the steady pulse of drums.

This is where everything converges.

Music drifts from one side—low strings, breathy flutes, a rhythm that hums beneath the skin rather than demanding attention. On the other, a small crowd has gathered around a cleared circle of earth where two Zeswa warriors spar, bare feet striking the ground in quick, powerful bursts. It isn’t aggressive. It’s skillful. Fluid. Cheers rise when someone lands a clean maneuver, dissolve just as quickly back into conversation.

You slow without thinking, drawn in.

So’lek stops half a step behind you, gaze moving over the sparring ring, the fire, the shifting crowd.

You glance back at him, eyes bright. “This is the good part.”

He huffs softly, something between agreement and resignation.

You find a place to sit near the edge of the fire’s glow, close enough to feel the warmth but not so close it scorches. Someone wordlessly hands you a cup as you settle, and this time you accept it without hesitation. You take a sip, make a pleased sound under your breath, then another.

So’lek remains standing for a moment longer, arms loosely crossed, scanning out of habit more than necessity. When he finally sits beside you, it’s with his back straight, knees drawn up slightly, like he hasn’t fully decided this counts as resting.

You glance at him, then at his rigid posture.

“Wow,” you murmur. “So comfortable.”

He huffs quietly.

“Be grateful I’m here at all.”

You lift both hands in surrender, smile turning innocent again.

“Alright. I’ll behave.”

He doesn’t answer.

But after a moment, he shifts—just a fraction. One knee lowers, his back easing from its rigid line, posture settling into something marginally more comfortable.

He keeps his gaze forward, expression unchanged. Like this was his idea all along.

Your smile sharpens, unmistakably triumphant.

He stares straight ahead.

You’ve always known he was far too easy to provoke.

Your knee bumps his.

Not enough to apologize for. Not enough to move away from.

The sparring grows more animated, the fighters switching out amid laughter and clapping. Someone near the musicians starts singing—low and rough around the edges, the kind of voice meant to carry across open land. The crowd joins in where they know the words.

You sway a little where you sit, head tipping with the rhythm. The firelight catches in your eyes, in the faint paint still streaked across your skin.

This time, when you lean closer, it isn’t an accident.

Your shoulder brushes his arm, light and deliberate, and you let it stay there.

He stills. Then, slowly, he lets himself remain exactly where he is.

A Zeswa elder nearby chuckles as one of the sparring warriors nearly loses their footing, and you laugh too—easy, unguarded. You lift your cup again, then offer it toward So’lek without looking, already knowing what he’ll say.

He hesitates. Then, against his better judgment, he takes it. Just one sip.

It’s enough to make his throat warm and his head feel ever so slightly lighter. He hands it back without comment, but when your fingers brush his in the exchange, his attention lingers for just a beat longer than necessary.

You catch the look and smile faintly before turning your focus back to the fire.

Around you, the festival carries on—sparring, music, laughter, the quiet intimacy of people simply being together.

And for now, for this little while he promised, So’lek stays.

…

You’re enjoying the drink far more than you probably should.

It’s sweeter than it looks, warming as it settles, loosening something in your chest. You sip without thinking now, eyes half on the sparring ring, half on the way the firelight flickers and bends around the edges of the world. By the time the cup is half-empty, you’re already smiling for no reason at all.

When a Zeswa passes nearby with a fresh tray, you straighten a little, attention snapping to it immediately.

“Oh—wait,” you say, lifting your cup.

You turn and press what’s left of it into So’lek’s hand before he can refuse, fingers lingering just long enough to make your intent clear. “Finish it.”

He looks down at the cup, then at you.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically.

You’re already reaching for a new one, accepting it with a pleased little hum. “You don’t get to waste it.”

The Zeswa laughs softly as they move on, clearly amused.

So’lek exhales, eyes narrowing just a fraction as he studies the dark liquid. He doesn’t need it. He knows that. But the warmth from the fire and the press of bodies around them makes refusal feel… unnecessary.

He takes a careful drink. Then another.

It settles differently this time. Warmer. Slower. A faint hum blooming behind his eyes.

You glance over at him, eyes bright. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He hands the empty cup back to the passing Zeswa, jaw tight. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

You laugh, tipping your head back slightly as you take your own sip. “That’s the point.”

Your knee bumps his again, more deliberate this time, and when you don’t pull away, he doesn’t either. The fire crackles louder, someone cheers as a sparring match ends in laughter, and the music swells.

So’lek keeps his gaze forward.

But he registers, with quiet precision, the way you lean closer now—and how he makes no move to stop it.

Your attention drifts as the night deepens. Not to the sparring anymore, or even the music—but to the people scattered around the fire’s edge. Couples, mostly. Or pairs that have long since stopped pretending they aren’t.

Your fingers rest loosely around your cup as you take it all in.

Once you notice it, it’s everywhere—the ease with which bodies fit together, affection worn openly and without apology. A woman sits comfortably in her mate’s lap, laughter spilling freely as he murmurs something only she hears. Nearby, someone leans back against a chest, eyes half-closed, utterly unbothered by who might be watching. Tails curl together without thought. Hands rest where they please.

Further back, beyond the firelight, shapes slip behind tents amid quiet laughter. Kisses stolen with the easy assumption that the night belongs to them alone.

You look away before you linger too long. Not because you’re embarrassed— but because you already know he would never be one of those men.

The feeling remains anyway. Warm. Steady. Not something that demands action—just there, humming quietly beneath the surface, in time with the music threading through the camp.

You glance back at So’lek.

He sits beside you with space between you intact, posture relaxed but contained. He doesn’t look at the couples. Or if he does, he gives nothing away. He never has. There are lines he keeps, especially in places like this, among people who know him.

You don’t move closer. You don’t touch him.

You simply sit there, sharing the firelight and the noise and the unspoken understanding of what is and what is not meant for public view.

The bonfire crackles, sparks lifting into the dark. Laughter rises, fades. Somewhere behind the tents, someone forgets themselves completely.

You stay where you are. So does he.

And the space between you carries more than either of you is willing to cross.

…

You’re still watching the fire when familiar voices cut through the noise.

“Tamtey!”

You turn just in time to see Ri’nela weaving slightly as she approaches, arm looped firmly through Teylan’s. Her steps aren’t sloppy, exactly—but they’re loose in a way you’ve never seen on a Tsahìk before. Her cheeks are warm with color, her braids swaying as she laughs at something only she finds funny.

Teylan looks… overwhelmed.

He’s holding her cup very carefully, like it might bite him if he does something wrong, eyes darting between her and the ground like he’s afraid she’ll lose her footing if he blinks too long. He looks genuinely relieved when he spots you—and So’lek beside you.

“Oh, thank Eywa,” he says, a little too earnestly. “You’re here.”

Ri’nela beams at you, clearly delighted. “We found you,” she announces, as if this were a great accomplishment. “Teylan won’t dance.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Teylan says quickly. “And I don’t like how it tastes. The drink. It’s… sharp.” He glances at Ri’nela, lowering his voice. “She’s had more than enough.”

Ri’nela scoffs, waving him off with a careless flick of her hand. “I’m fine.” Then she leans closer to you, stage-whispering, “He’s very serious tonight.”

You snort before you can stop yourself.

For a brief moment, there’s a flicker of annoyance—not because they’ve interrupted anything important, but because the quiet bubble you’d been sitting in pops all at once.

It fades almost immediately.

It’s hard to be annoyed when Teylan looks like a skittish ikran handler and Ri’nela is smiling like she’s just discovered a brand-new world.

You glance at Ri’nela again, really look at her—at the looseness in her posture, the way she laughs without restraint—and your surprise softens into something warmer.

It’s… nice. Seeing her like this.

Ri’nela’s gaze drifts toward the dancers near the fire, eyes lighting up. “Come with me,” she says suddenly, turning back to you. “I want to dance. He won’t.” She jerks her head toward Teylan, who immediately stiffens.

“I absolutely will not,” he says, earnest to the point of panic.

Ri’nela pouts for half a second, then refocuses on you, hopeful and insistent all at once.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want to—but because you instinctively look back at So’lek.

He’s watching the exchange with a calm, unmistakable smile tugging at his mouth. Not sharp. Not guarded. Just… there. His posture is easy, shoulders relaxed, eyes warm with quiet amusement—especially when Ri’nela nearly bumps into Teylan and he scrambles to steady her like the world might end if he doesn’t.

When your eyes meet his, his expression softens further, fond and unbothered. He looks almost content. Like he’s enjoying this—seeing people he cares about loose and alive and unthreatened.

It’s fine.

You let out a small breath, already smiling. “Alright,” you say, standing. “I’ll go.”

Ri’nela claps her hands, delighted, and immediately starts tugging you toward the dancers.

Teylan follows you with visible relief—and more than a little concern—as if he’s just been handed temporary custody of So’lek instead.

You glance back once more as you’re pulled away. So’lek hasn’t moved. He meets your gaze again, smile still in place, and inclines his head just a fraction—easy approval, quiet encouragement.

Then you’re swallowed by movement and music, leaving the two men behind by the fire.

Teylan tracks you into the crowd— then falters.

His attention shifts back to So’lek, quick and assessing, as if only now remembering the other responsibility he might have just inherited.

He studies him for a second. The straight posture The steady eyes The complete lack of sway.

If So’lek has had more than he should, it doesn’t show. He looks perfectly capable of handling himself.

Teylan lets out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He glances back at So’lek.

“…She’s not usually like this.”

So’lek huffs softly, eyes still tracking Ri’nela’s unsteady steps.

“No,” he says, faint amusement coloring his voice. “But it suits her.”

And Teylan, still half-convinced Ri’nela might drag him into the fire next, lets out a small, helpless laugh.

Ri’nela wastes no time. The moment you agree, she hooks her arm through yours with a delighted laugh and pulls you straight into the movement near the bonfire, braids swinging as the music swells. The heat hits you immediately—fire, bodies, sound all pressing in at once—and for a second you’re laughing just from the sheer excess of it.

Behind you, Teylan exhales like a man spared an imminent death and promptly drops down beside So’lek with a soft thump.

So’lek glances at him. It’s not sharp. Just a look—measured, brief.

Teylan freezes, halfway through adjusting his seat, suddenly very aware of where he’s chosen to land.

So’lek looks back to the fire instead, posture shifting just enough to make room. The unspoken allowance settles easily between them: Fine. You can sit there. Just until she comes back.

Teylan relaxes immediately.

“Oh thank Eywa,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “She really stressed me out for a moment there. She’s never like that. I mean—she’s always confident, but this?” He gestures vaguely toward the dancers. “This is… a lot.

“She seems happy,” So’lek says, watching Ri’nela laugh as she spins you around

Teylan huffs a weak laugh. “She tried to make me dance.”

So’lek’s mouth curves faintly. So’lek’s mouth curves faintly.

“That sounds dangerous.”

Teylan snorts despite himself. “You have no idea.”

He glances toward the dancers again, watching Ri’nela laugh as she spins you around.

“I thought you enjoyed these things,” So’lek says mildly.

Teylan lets out a helpless laugh. “I enjoy watching them.”

So’lek huffs. “Fair.”

Teylan lifts a brow at him.

“And you?” he asks. “I thought you’d be back at your camp by now, sharpening your knives or brooding at something.

So’lek huffs before he can stop himself.

“That’s not all I do,” So’lek says flatly.

Teylan glances at him, unconvinced.

“Mm,” he hums. “You don’t usually come to festivals just to enjoy them.”

A beat

So’lek looks back to the fire.

“…Tamtey wanted me to stay.”

Teylan’s eyes flick toward the dancers. Then back to him.

“Ah,” he says simply.

That explains everything.

So’lek’s gaze flicks to him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Teylan hesitates, clearly choosing his words.

“Well…”

He glances toward the dancers again, then back at So’lek.

“…you don’t usually bend for people like that.”

So’lek stiffens a fraction.

“That’s not—”

He stops himself, jaw tightening.

Teylan smiles faintly.

“I’m just saying.

So’lek’s jaw tightens.

He doesn’t answer right away. Because Teylan isn’t wrong. He does not bend easily. He does not stay places he doesn’t wish to be And he does not make exceptions lightly.

Except—

He looks back toward the dancers, just briefly.

Then away again.

So’lek exhales through his nose.

“You read too much into things.”

Teylan’s smile turns knowing.

“Of course I do.”

…

Meanwhile, you’re laughing too hard to care about dignity.

Ri’nela spins you once more before someone shoves a cup into your hand, and you accept it without hesitation. The drink is warm and sharp and sweet all at once, loosening your limbs and making the world feel just a little brighter around the edges.

That’s when Nesim appears—like she always does—grinning and already holding another cup.

Ri’nela lights up.

“Nesim!”

You laugh and accept the drink someone has just pressed into your hand, clinking cups with Ri’nela without ceremony. Of course she’s here. Of course things are escalating.

Nesim slips easily into place beside you, watching the two of you with open amusement.

“So,” she says lightly. “Are you two actually having fun yet?”

Ri’nela grins, a little breathless. “I think so.”

Nesim hums, unconvinced.

“That’s not how the Zeswa usually celebrate,” she says.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Oh no.”

Her smile widens.

“Do you want to see how we really celebrate?

You hesitate, studying her.

“…That sounds like a terrible idea,” you say slowly.

Nesim’s grin turns positively delighted.

“That’s how you know it’s a good one.”

Ri’nela laughs, brushing a loose braid from her face. “What is it?”

Nesim tilts her head, eyes bright with mischief.

“A drinking contest.”

You blink. Of course it is.

Your gaze flicks, without quite meaning to, toward the edge of the firelight—toward where you know So’lek is sitting. The thought alone is enough to make you hesitate.

“I don’t know,” you say, slower now. “I’m not exactly good at this. And—”

You gesture vaguely, helplessly.

“—I probably shouldn’t.”

Nesim watches you with open amusement.

“You’re thinking too hard,” she says.

Ri’nela, on the other hand, brightens immediately.

“Oh, you have to,” she says, earnest and warm all at once. “Just one round. For the experience.”

“I really shouldn’t—”

“Tamptey,” Ri’nela interrupts gently, smiling. “When was the last time you did something just because it was fun?”

That… lands.

You glance between the two of them, then back toward the fire once more.

Finally, you sigh.

“…One round,” you concede. “And then I’m done.”

Nesim’s smile sharpens.

“Perfect.”

She lifts two fingers, signaling someone across the circle.

A moment later, a Zeswa steps in carrying a wide clay jar, heavy enough that it sloshes when it’s set down between you. The smell alone is stronger than anything you’ve had so far—sweet and sharp and unmistakably dangerous.

A few people drift closer, sensing what’s about to happen.

“Rules are simple,” the Zeswa says, already pouring. “One drink per round. No water. No switching cups. First one to give up loses.”

Ri’nela peers into her cup with immediate suspicion.

“That is too much,” she says, solemn.

“That’s the point,” Nesim replies easily.

Someone nearby starts counting.

You lift your cup, hesitate for half a heartbeat—then drink. It burns.

Not painfully. Just enough to make your eyes water and your chest warm as it goes down.

Around you, cups lower one by one. No one falls over. No one coughs No one gives up.

Ri’nela even manages a proud little nod, clearly pleased with herself.

Nesim studies you, head tilted.

“Hm.”

Then she smiles.

“Already thinking of quitting?” she asks lightly. “Even Ri’nela can handle more than you—and I can see she’s already had plenty.”

It’s not cruel. Just sharp enough to land.

Something warm and stubborn flickers in your chest—not anger, just that familiar, dangerous spark of pride.

You set your cup down with deliberate care and look back at her.

“Alright,” you say, a slow smile tugging at your mouth.

“Then let’s do this properly.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the small crowd.

The Zeswa with the jar pours again. This time, no one jokes. Cups are heavier now. The smell stronger. The liquid thicker as it settles.

Someone starts counting. You drink. Slower this time.

The warmth hits faster, spreading through your chest and down your arms, a dull, pleasant weight settling behind your eyes.

Around you, the reactions come quicker. One man coughs hard and immediately waves his cup away.

“Nope,” he announces hoarsely. “I’m done.”

Laughter breaks out as he stumbles back into the crowd. Another Zeswa grimaces, makes it halfway through the cup, then gives up with a dramatic groan.

And then—

Ri’nela lowers her cup very carefully. She blinks once. Twice.

“That,” she says with absolute calm, “is my limit.”

She sets the cup down like it might explode.

Nesim grins at her. “Already?”

“I am a Tsahìk,” Ri’nela repeats solemnly. “And I am far too important to die here.’’

The circle laughs, parting easily as she steps out, still dignified, if a little unsteady.

A few others follow her, shaking their heads and surrendering without shame.

The circle shrinks. You’re still in it.

Nesim looks at you again, eyes bright.

“Good,” she says. “Now it starts to get interesting.”

The jar comes around again.

By the third round, the circle is already smaller.

The laughter is louder now, a little sloppier. Someone misjudges the cup and spills half of it down their chin, swearing as they give up immediately. Another doesn’t even pretend, taking one sip before shaking their head and stepping back to the cheers of the crowd.

You drink. And this time, you really feel it.

The warmth is heavier now, pooling low in your stomach, blurring the edges of the world just enough that you have to focus to keep your balance steady. The firelight stretches when you blink. Your thoughts line up a second slower than they should.

When you lower your cup, there are only three of you left.

Nesim. A broad-shouldered Zeswa with glassy eyes. And you.

The fourth pour comes.

The Zeswa takes one mouthful—then laughs, loud and helpless, and gives up without even trying to finish.

The crowd cheers as he stumbles out of the circle. And just like that— It’s only you and Nesim.

The noise shifts. Quieter. More focused.

Nesim studies you, clearly impressed.

You sway, just a little. Catch yourself.

And for the first time all night, you really consider stopping.

You could. You could laugh, admit defeat, and go back to the edge of the fire.

Go find So’lek. Curl into his side, warm and dizzy and safe. It wouldn’t be a bad ending.

The thought lingers—sweet, tempting. And then you look at Nesim.

At her easy stance. At the faint, knowing smile she’s been wearing since the beginning.

Something stubborn stirs in your chest

The crowd cheers.

By the fire, So’lek lifts his head.

He’s been only half-aware of the contest until now—of laughter and raised voices and the slow tightening of the circle—but something in the sound shifts his attention fully toward you.

He watches as you take the cup. You don’t hesitate.

You laugh when it burns, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand like it’s nothing, and lift your chin with that familiar, reckless spark in your eyes.

You sway—just a little—then catch yourself easily. So’lek doesn’t move.

He’s always known you were capable. Steady. Harder to unbalance than most.

But as he watches you now, a different thought slips in—dry, uninvited, and entirely practical. He has never actually seen you drunk before. And he has a quiet, sinking suspicion that whatever comes after this is going to be his problem

Beside him, Teylan notices the shift. He follows So’lek’s gaze toward the circle by the fire—and blinks.

You’re laughing now, cup in hand, standing far too confidently for someone several rounds into a Zeswa drinking contest.

Teylan studies you for a moment. Then exhales slowly.

So’lek doesn’t look at him.

“What.”

Teylan hesitates, clearly deciding how honest to be.

He glances at Ri’nela, still sitting nearby and already unsteady— then back at you, who look… far too comfortable.

“I don’t know how she is when she’s drunk,” he admits.

A beat.

“But she’s already more unpredictable than Ri’nela when she’s sober.”

So’lek closes his eyes. Just for a second. Then opens them again, resigned.

“…That is not reassuring.”

Teylan offers him a look of pure sympathy.

“I’m very sorry,” he says sincerely.

A Zeswa passes behind them with a tray of fresh cups. Without looking away from the fire, So’lek reaches out and takes one.

Teylan blinks at him.

“You’re drinking again?”

So’lek downs it in a single, controlled swallow. Then exhales slowly.

“Preparing,” he says flatly.

He sets the empty cup aside and turns his attention back to the circle.

…

Across the fire, you lift your cup again.

The jar comes around one last time. The circle is small now.

Just you. And Nesim.

The noise around you fades into something distant, muted by the heat in your head and the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. Someone is counting again, slower this time, like they already know how this ends.

Nesim takes her cup without ceremony. She studies you over the rim, eyes bright, amused.

“Still with me?” she asks lightly.

You blink once. Focus.

“Unfortunately,” you say, and lift your own.

The drink hits harder than any of the others. It burns. It lingers.

You swallow carefully, forcing it down with more control than you feel, every instinct in your body protesting the decision you’ve already made. The warmth spreads too fast now, flooding your chest, your limbs, your head.

For a second, the world tilts. Just a fraction. You plant your feet. Breathe.

Across from you, Nesim finishes hers.

She lowers the cup—and pauses.

Blinks once. Twice.

The smile she gives you is slow and rueful.

“Well,” she says, exhaling.

Then she lifts both hands in surrender.

“That’s my limit.”

The words take a second to land. The crowd reacts before you do.

Cheers break out, sudden and loud, hands clapping, voices rising as Nesim steps back out of the circle, laughing at herself.

And just like that— It’s over.

You’re still standing. Barely.

Someone shouts your name. Someone else whoops. The jar is lifted in the air like a trophy. You look down at your empty cup, then up again, slow and disbelieving. You did it.

You sway once—catch yourself—then straighten with what dignity you can salvage. A laugh spills out of you, bright and victorious and completely unguarded

You don’t even have time to process your victory before someone crashes into you.

“TAMTEY!”

Ri’nela nearly knocks you over in her enthusiasm, arms wrapping around you in a fierce, delighted hug.

“You did it,” she laughs breathlessly. “You actually did it!”

“I did,” you agree, a little dazed, a little proud.

She pulls back just long enough to look at you properly, eyes bright, then throws both arms in the air.

“I KNEW it!”

People around you cheer again, someone claps you on the shoulder, and before you can protest, Ri’nela grabs your wrist.

“Come on,” she insists. “We have to celebrate properly.”

You laugh, helpless, as she drags you straight back into the movement near the fire.

The music swells. The heat closes in again. For a while, it’s perfect. You dance. Not carefully. Not gracefully. Just joyfully—laughing too loud, spinning when Ri’nela spins you, jumping when the rhythm demands it. The world is warm and bright and wonderfully unimportant.

The alcohol sloshes unpleasantly every time you land. You ignore it.

Ri’nela, however, does not.

After a few songs, her steps start to falter. She misses a beat. Blinks too long.

When she laughs now, it comes out a little breathless, a little forced.

She presses a hand briefly to her stomach.

“Mm,” she mutters.

You catch it immediately.

“You okay?” you ask, leaning closer.

“Yes,” she says at once.

Then, more honestly, “No.”

She exhales and gives you an apologetic look.

“I think… I should sit.”

Relief flickers through you—because, if you’re being honest, you were just thinking the same thing.

The jumping, the spinning, the heat—It’s all settled in your stomach now, heavy and distinctly uncooperative.

You’re still steady. Still laughing. But you are very ready to stop moving.

“Yeah,” you admit.

You take her hand and steer her gently back toward the edge of the firelight.

“I think I’ve celebrated enough for one lifetime.”

You steer Ri’nela away from the dancers, guiding her carefully through the thinning crowd.

The farther you get from the bonfire, the quieter it becomes.

Music dulls into a distant thrum. Laughter fades to background noise. The air cools.

And that’s when it happens. Not all at once. Just… gradually.

Your steps feel a fraction slower than they should. The ground doesn’t move—but your sense of where it is does.

You blink. Adjust your grip on Ri’nela’s hand.Take another step.

And suddenly, unmistakably, you realize:

Oh.

You are really drunk.

Not the laughing kind. Not the confident kind. The kind where your body is only cooperating out of politeness. The kind where every movement has to be negotiated. The kind that arrives late and with intent.

You slow without meaning to. The world feels… thick. Heavy at the edges. Warm in your head in a way that is no longer charming.

Ri’nela stumbles slightly beside you, and you catch her on instinct— and very nearly lose your own balance in the process.

You recover. Barely.

Your stomach turns, slow and unpleasant, like it’s considering its options.

And with sudden, absolute clarity, you think:

This was a terrible idea.

You glance ahead, toward where you know the others are sitting. You and Ri’nela emerge back into the edge of the firelight, slower than before.

Ri’nela is leaning heavily into your side now. You are doing your best to pretend this is normal. It is not.

By the fire, So’lek sees you the moment you come into view.

He doesn’t move. But he sits a little straighter. Just enough.

Teylan notices the shift—and then his attention goes immediately to Ri’nela.

He’s on his feet before he quite realizes it, stepping toward her.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

Ri’nela laughs weakly. “Define alright.”

So’lek doesn’t say anything. He’s already looking at you. Not sharply. Just… assessing.

You decide, with sudden and absolute certainty, that you have done your part.

You have:

— won a drinking contes

— danced until your stomach filed a formal complaint

— and successfully returned Ri’nela to her assigned caretake.

Your work here is complete.

You gently disengage Ri’nela from your side and guide her the last step toward Teylan.

“Here,” you say, very reasonably.

Teylan blinks as Ri’nela immediately leans into him instead.

“Why me?” he asks, faintly panicked.

You gesture at yourself. Broadly.

In a way that includes your slightly uneven stance, your delayed reaction time, and the fact that you are very much not standing straight.

“Do I look like I can take care of her right now?” you ask.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Looks down at Ri’nela. Sighs.

“…No,” he admits.

He resigns himself to his fate, sliding an arm around Ri’nela and helping her to her feet.

“Come on,” he mutters.

As he starts walking her away toward the tents, you call after him, far too loudly,

“MAKE SURE SHE DOESN’T THROW UP ON YOU.”

Several people nearby snort.

Teylan freezes mid-step. Very slowly, he turns his head to look at you. The expression on his face is pure, horrified resignation. You grin at him, deeply pleased with yourself. He shakes his head, defeated, and continues walking Ri’nela away.

So’lek is still watching you when you finally turn back toward him.

Now that Ri’nela is gone, now that the responsibility has officially left your hands, the world feels… less cooperative than it did a moment ago.

You stop in front of him and grin.

“Heyyy,” you say, stretching the word just enough to make it obvious.

His mouth twitches.

“There it is,” he murmurs.

He shifts slightly, already making space beside him on the log.

“Sit,” he says calmly.

You squint at the space like it has personally offended you. Then at him.

Then you shake your head once, very decisively.

Sitting suddenly feels like a terrible idea. Not because it is — but because he suggested it.

“No,” you declare.

He lifts a brow.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, nodding to yourself.

Too warm. Too loud. Too many people.

And a very strong, very drunk need to do the opposite of whatever he just told you.

“I don’t want to sit,” you announce. “I want air.”

You sway just enough to undermine your argument.

Before he can respond, you reach out and take his hand. Not dramatic. Just sure.Like this is the most obvious solution in the world.

You tug once, already turning away from the fire.

“Come on.”

He’s on his feet immediately. Not because you pull hard— but because he was already halfway there in his mind. Because there is no universe in which he lets you wander off alone like this. Not with the night this full.

And your balance this… optimistic. You tug him forward with more enthusiasm than balance.

“Slow,” he says at once, steadying you with a hand at your elbow as you immediately overcorrect your first step.

“I am slow,” you insist, even as you lean slightly into him without quite realizing it.

The farther you get from the bonfire, the quieter it becomes. Music dulls into a distant thrum behind you. Laughter blurs into background noise. The air cools, carrying grass and earth instead of smoke, and you breathe it in like it’s a revelation.

“Better,” you decide solemnly.

So’lek doesn’t disagree.

He keeps his pace matched to yours, hand hovering close enough to catch you if needed.

You don’t stumble— but you sway a little, like the world has decided to move just a fraction slower than expected.

“You’re drunk,” he says calmly.

You hum in agreement.

“Mmm. Yes.”

“That drink hits late.”

You glance up at him, eyes bright and unfocused in that gentle, earnest way.

“You watched me the whole time.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“Someone had to.”

You stop walking suddenly, turning to face him. He halts instantly, attention sharpening. You peer at him like you’re trying to solve something important.

“…You’re very handsome,” you inform him.

His breath hitches before he can stop it. Just once.

“That’s the alcohol talking,” he says, a little too quickly.

You frown, considering.

“No,” you say.

“It just makes me more honest.”

That earns him a soft huff of laughter—quiet, surprised, entirely genuine. He reaches out then, fingers closing around your wrist, grounding without restraint.

“We’re walking,” he says gently. “Not stopping.”

You smile, deeply pleased with yourself, and let him guide you forward again. The camp is distant now, firelight flickering low behind you.

Ahead, the plains stretch open and cool and quiet, stars sharp overhead. You lean a little closer as you walk, not asking, just existing nearer.

And So’lek lets you. Because he brought you out here for the air. And because, drunk or not, he was never going to let you go alone.

…

You don’t walk far. Just far enough that the noise thins to something distant and harmless, the bonfire reduced to a low glow behind you.

The air is cooler here, clean and steady, carrying grass and earth instead of smoke.

So’lek slows first. You feel it in his grip before you hear it.

“That’s enough,” he says quietly, more decision than suggestion.

There’s a fallen log half-hidden in the grass, worn smooth with age. He guides you toward it and sits, long limbs folding with familiar ease, posture relaxed but attentive.

Close enough to the path back. Far enough from the crowd.

You linger on your feet. The breeze brushes against your skin, cool and grounding, and you close your eyes for a second to breathe it in properly.

The night feels wide out here. Open.

You sway just slightly— not enough to fall, just enough to remind you that gravity is a concept you are currently negotiating with.

So’lek watches you without comment.

Alert. Calm. Ready, if needed.

You open your eyes and look back at him. You could sit beside him. You could. The thought exists.

You dismiss it immediately.

Instead, you turn and lower yourself straight down onto the ground between his spread legs, settling back until your shoulders meet the solid line of his thighs with a soft, unceremonious plop—like this is the most obvious place in the world to sit.

So’lek stills. Not in alarm. Not in surprise. Just… processing.

This was not one of the possibilities he had accounted for.

You’re seated on the cool earth now, back resting against the space between his knees and hips, framed there by his legs as he sits on the log above you.

The height difference makes the closeness immediate. Unavoidable.

You shift once, wriggle slightly, and settle with a quiet, satisfied sigh, fitting yourself there like you belong.

Then you tilt your head back just enough to look up at him.

“Hi,” you say, quietly pleased with yourself.

He exhales through his nose, slow and controlled.

“…Comfortable?” he asks.

“Mm-hm.”

His hands hover for half a heartbeat, unsure where to land.

Then, carefully, deliberately, he rests them on his thighs instead of touching you—giving you space even as he accepts the closeness.

He doesn’t speak right away.

For a moment, he simply sits there, still and alert, measuring Drunk. Unpredictable.

He knows that look in your eyes. He knows how quickly this could become something he has to stop.

“You didn’t have to sit there,” he says at last, quietly.

You smile, eyes half-lidded, voice warm and loose.

“I wanted to.”

That… changes things.

Not because it makes it safe. But because it makes it intentional.

He exhales slowly through his nose.

Doesn’t move you. Doesn’t tell you to shift.

He simply adjusts his posture a fraction on the log, grounding himself, letting his presence frame yours— bracing for the moment he might have to say enough.

The breeze moves through the grass around you. The distant music fades in and out, softened by distance and time. For the first time all night, everything feels quiet.

And So’lek stays exactly where he is—legs bracketing you, watchful and steady— not because he’s relaxed, but because he’s ready.

Because if you’re going to rest anywhere like this, it might as well be somewhere safe. With him.

You sit there for a moment, listening. The breeze moves through the grass in soft waves, cool against your skin.

Ahead of you, the festival still burns bright—bonfires glowing, figures moving in loose rhythm, laughter and drums reaching you softened by distance.

Far enough that faces blur and details fade. Close enough that the light still flickers across the plains.

And you remember.

The couples by the fire. The way hands had rested easily, openly. The closeness you’d watched from a careful distance. The quiet, familiar ache that had followed.

You want to be closer. Not urgently. Not restlessly Just… closer.

You shift slightly, testing the space. So’lek doesn’t move. His presence behind you remains steady, solid, unbothered.

You tell yourself it’s fine. You’re far away now. Much farther than before.

Far enough that the fire is just a glow. Far enough that no one could possibly be paying attention to the two of you.

This isn’t really public anymore. Not in any way that matters. And he doesn’t mind closeness when it’s just the two of you. He never has. So…

Surely this is fine. Surely he wouldn’t mind. At least… that makes perfect sense right now

Before you can overthink it, you lean back and rest your head gently against his thigh.

Bare skin. Warm from the firelight, firm beneath your cheek, a sharp contrast to the cool air brushing your face. The contact registers immediately—unavoidable, unmistakable.

So’lek stills. Not because it’s wrong— but because it’s unexpected.

He looks down at you, breath catching just enough to feel it. The weight of your head there. The trust of it.

You shift minutely, settling more comfortably, cheek pressing against his thigh with a quiet, contented sigh.

“There,” you murmur, mostly to yourself.

For a long second, he doesn’t move.

Then his breathing evens out again.

Slow. Measured.

“…You alright?” he asks quietly.

You nod, eyes already drifting half-closed.

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“This is… nice.”

His hands tighten briefly on his thighs—muscle flexing beneath your cheek—an instinct checked before it goes anywhere else.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t pull away either.

Instead, he adjusts his leg just enough to support you better, subtle and careful, like he’s making room without drawing attention to it.

In front of you, the festival carries on—firelight flickering, music drifting, distant laughter threading through the dark.

Here, though, everything feels still.

Minutes pass. Maybe more. Time is a suggestion right now.

You stay where you are, cheek warm against his thigh, breathing slow and even, enjoying the simple fact that nothing is spinning anymore.

And he’s still not doing anything.

No hand in your hair. No touch. Not even an attempt.

You wait.

Patiently, at first. Then… less so.

You shift, a faint huff leaving you.

Slowly, deliberately, you angle your eyes up at him— not turning your head, just giving him the most unimpressed, sideways look you can manage from where you are.

He meets it immediately.

“So’lek,” you mumble.

“Yes?”

You hold the side-eye for another second, brows knitting in slow, drunk accusation.

Then, very plainly:

“Pet me.”

The word hits him harder than it should.

Not because of what it means— but because of how easily you say it

No hesitation. No embarrassment. Just an expectation, delivered like this is the most obvious request in the world.

He blinks.

Once.

Then again.

For a moment, he genuinely has no idea what to say

He’s tired. He’s had more to drink than he should have.

And he is absolutely not used to you giving him orders— especially not ones like that.

His mouth opens. Closes again.

You’re still looking at him with that same unimpressed, sideways stare, clearly waiting for him to fix whatever mistake he’s made.

He exhales slowly through his nose.

Not annoyed.

Just… baffled.

“You can’t just—” he starts, then stops, because he doesn’t actually know how to finish that sentence.

He rubs a hand over his face, eyes briefly closing like he’s bracing himself.

Of all the things he’d prepared himself for tonight— this was not one of them.

He stares at you for another second.

Weighing every possible outcome.

Every possible mistake.

And very clearly deciding that the fastest way out of this situation… is to make you fall asleep.

He exhales, long and slow.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters under his breath

You blink at him, waiting.

Still side-eyeing.

Still offended.

Still very much not moving.

He closes his eyes for half a heartbeat.

Then opens them again.

Fine.

His hand lifts.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like he’s approaching a very unpredictable animal.

He hesitates just above your head— one last moment of restraint— then very carefully settles his fingers into your hair.

Light.

Almost nothing.

He moves them in slow, minimal strokes, the kind meant to calm, not to linger.

“This is not happening again,” he murmurs quietly, more to himself than to you.

His only goal now is simple.

Get you calm.

Get you sleepy.

And get you back to your tent before you decide to make any more requests like that.

The effect is immediate.

The moment his fingers settle into your hair, something in you relaxes with a quiet, satisfied little hum.

There.

Correct behavior has been restored.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t need to.

Your eyes drift closed, mouth softening into the faintest, most self-satisfied smile.

Inside your head, a very dangerous conclusion takes shape.

Slowly.

Confidently.

You are winning.

Not in any loud, obvious way.

Just… fundamentally.

The mighty, disciplined, terrifying Dog-tag warrior— undone by a single drunk request and a look.

You would never say it out loud.

But the thought settles warm and triumphant in your chest anyway.

You could get away with anything right now.

Absolutely anything.

For drunk you, the logic is flawless.

You are charming.

You are unstoppable.

And clearly…no one here is immune.

In front of you, the festival carries on—firelight, music, movement—alive and distant all at once.

Here, though, everything feels still.

So’lek stays exactly where he is, gaze lifting back toward the glow ahead, fingers still moving in slow, absent strokes through your hair.

Alert.

Softened.

And with the night open before you and the warmth of him grounding you where you rest, the closeness feels exactly right.

Your gaze drifts.

Not deliberately.

Just… lazily.

From the firelight ahead, to the line of his thigh beneath your cheek, to the subtle shift of muscle when he breathes, to the warmth of bare skin grounding you more than the cool night air ever could.

It’s muscular.

Solid.

Warm.

His.

The thought arrives slowly this time.

Not sudden.

Not sharp.

Just…persistent.

You could bite it.

Not hard. Just a little. Just enough to leave a mark.

Just enough to—you’re not even sure.

You don’t move right away. You just…tilt your head, barely.

The movement is slow. Careless. Entirely unplanned.

Like something guided more by instinct than by thought.

Your lips drift closer. Not touching. Just…hovering.

Close enough that you can feel the heat of his skin.

Close enough that the space between your mouth and his thigh disappears by degrees.

Second by second. Millimeter by millimeter.

Your mouth parts. Slowly. Thoughtlessly.

So’lek notices.

Not when you first think it. But when your head tilts. When your breathing changes.

When the weight of your cheek shifts.

His fingers still in your hair at once. Completely.

“Tamtey,” he says quietly.

Right before your teeth could possibly reach him

You freeze. Completely.

Mouth still open. Head tilted.

So close you can feel the heat of his skin against your breath.

“…Fuck,” you think distantly.

Not out loud.

Just… in the very back of your mind.

You stare straight ahead at the dark. Not at him. Not moving. Still thinking. Still pretending this is something you’re carefully weighing.

Because you tell yourself—you don’t want to.

You really don’t. This is stupid.

Reckless. A terrible idea.

And then the thought follows, quiet and merciless:

Who am I kidding.

Of course you want to.

Not because it means anything. Not because you’re trying to start something.

Just because the impulse is there, loud and undeniable now that you’ve stopped lying to yourself about it.

You’re suddenly very aware of your teeth.

Of how close they are. Of how easy it would be.

And the thought settles, simple and dangerous in your head: You do want to.

Even if you absolutely shouldn’t.

You stay frozen for another second.

Then another.

Long enough for the thought to settle. Long enough for the last, useless trace of hesitation to fade.

So you move. Just a little. Not fast. Not reckless.

Just enough to finally close the last fraction of distance between your mouth and his skin.

And that’s when—his hand comes up.

Fingers settling along your jaw, gentle but certain.

He tilts your head back with controlled ease—not forcing, just guiding.

The top of your head presses back against his abdomen, solid and warm, and suddenly your balance belongs entirely to him.

You look up at him.

Your pupils are blown wide, dark and unfocused, the firelight fracturing softly around the edges of your vision.

Up close like this, he looks devastatingly handsome—features calm, eyes steady, expression caught in that dangerous space between restraint and something sharper.

His thumb shifts. Just slightly.

For a brief, unmistakable moment, his hand slips from your jaw to your throat— resting there, not tightening, not claiming. Simply there.

The contact sends a quiet jolt through you, low and immediate, curling deep in your body before you can think it through.

You feel it settle warm and heavy, breath hitching despite yourself. So does he.

You see it pass across his face—gone almost as quickly as it appears.

A flicker. Recognition. Control snapping firmly back into place.

He releases you at once. His hand drops away from your neck like it was never there, like he never felt it too.

But you don’t move. You keep your head tipped back, resting against him, eyes still on his.

You don’t reach for him. You don’t push. You both know better.

Not like this

Not with drink-softened edges and a night that’s already blurred enough.

Whatever this is—whatever it’s becoming—it deserves clarity. Choice.

A moment neither of you will question afterward.

You blink at him. Once. Very slowly.

School your expression into something wide-eyed and painfully innocent.

“What?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t believe you for a second.

Not the tone. Not the timing. Not the way your mouth is still a little too close to where it shouldn’t be.

His gaze stays steady on yours.

Unamused. Resigned.

“…No biting,” he says quietly

You hold his gaze for a second longer.

Then lift your brows, all wide-eyed innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

He doesn’t answer. He just lifts one brow. Slowly. Unimpressed.

You lower your head again, resting it back against his thigh. The contact is steadier now, intentional. You breathe, slow and measured, letting the night settle around you again.

You think. Not long. Just enough.

Then you move.

Carefully, you turn where you sit, twisting just enough to face him. You don’t stand. You don’t rush. You end up close to his knees, the grass cool beneath your hands as you look up at him.

So’lek is already watching you.

His expression doesn’t change much—still calm, still composed—but his attention sharpens in that familiar way, like nothing else exists in this moment but you. Firelight traces the lines of his face, catching in his eyes.

For a second, neither of you speaks. Not because there’s nothing to say, but because this feels like one of those moments where saying anything might break it.

You study him, quiet now, the drunken mischief in you settling into something more thoughtful.

He waits. Patient. Watchful. Bracing, just slightly, for whatever you decide to do next.

You hold his gaze.

There’s something thoughtful in the way you look at him now, something quieter than before. Not asking. Not pushing. Just… present.

Your lips part like you might say something.

You don’t.

After a moment, you glance away, then back again, the smallest smile touching your mouth—soft, knowing, restrained.

He studies you for a beat longer.

Long enough to decide something.

Then he exhales slowly, the tension easing out of his shoulders.

“Come here,” he says quietly.

Not an order. Not a pull. Just an invitation.

You hesitate. Only a second.

Then shift closer, obeying without quite realizing you’re doing it, moving into the space between his knees.

His hand comes up immediately. Not to stop you.

Just to settle at the back of your neck, warm and firm, guiding you the last inch forward with infuriating ease.

Controlled. Effortless.

Payback.

You look up at him again, suddenly very aware that the balance of this moment has shifted.

That maybe— just maybe— you’re not the only one allowed to cause trouble tonight.

He doesn’t smile.

But there’s something unmistakably satisfied in his eyes.

You look at his face first—calm and intent, eyes steady on yours.

Up this close, it’s impossible not to notice how little space there is between you now.

The warmth of his hand at the back of your neck.

The solid line of his knees bracketing you.

Without quite meaning to, your gaze drifts.

Just a little.

From his eyes, to his mouth, to the line of his throat, to the broad plane of his chest.

Then lower.

The way he’s seated on the log, legs braced, posture relaxed but unmistakably solid. The quiet span of him around you.

Your eyes dip to his loincloth, to the subtle, unavoidable implication of what’s beneath it.

And the thought that follows is… decidedly not polite.

It’s quick.

Unfiltered.

Warm and sharp and entirely inappropriate for the amount of alcohol still humming in your blood.

Your eyebrow lifts before you can stop it, a faint, betraying reaction to your own imagination.

Oh.

The realization hits just as fast as the thought itself:

he’s looking at you too.

You snap your gaze away at once, schooling your expression like you’ve just remembered yourself. The firelight suddenly seems very interesting. Very safe.

For half a heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then—

So’lek’s mouth curves.

Just a little.

Not a grin. Not anything he’d ever show in front of a crowd. Just the faintest smirk tugging at one corner of his lips, gone almost as soon as it appears—like a reflex he didn’t bother stopping.

He caught it.

The realization lands warm and embarrassing all at once.

When you dare to look back up at him, he’s composed again, expression smooth, eyes steady on yours like nothing happened.

Like he didn’t just see straight through you.

But the smirk lingers in his eyes.

Amused.

Knowing.

You feel heat creep up your neck and huff out a quiet breath, shaking your head slightly like you’re scolding yourself.

He tilts his head a fraction, clearly entertained.

The festival continues in front of you—firelight, movement, distant sound—but the space between you feels charged now, humming with the shared understanding of a thought you never said out loud…

…and the fact that he absolutely noticed anyway.

You risk a glance back up at him.

That’s when you see it.

The smirk is still there—small, restrained—but there’s something warmer beneath it now. Amusement, yes. But also… something gentler. Flattered, in a way he doesn’t quite bother hiding.

Like he hadn’t expected that thought from you.

Like he’s not immune to it.

His eyes soften as they hold yours, the sharp edge of humor easing into something quieter, more intimate. He exhales through his nose, a breath that sounds almost like a huff of laughter he decided to keep to himself.

“So,” he murmurs, low enough that it’s meant only for you, “that’s where your mind went.”

There’s no reproach in it. No warning.

Just acknowledgment.

The warmth creeps up your neck again, but this time it meets something steadier—something grounding—in the way he looks at you. Like he’s not bothered. Like he’s… pleased.

His thumb taps once against the log beneath him, an unconscious tell.

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

The words are simple, but the way he says them—quiet, controlled, just a little amused—makes your stomach flutter all over again.

He doesn’t move closer.

He doesn’t pull away either.

He just keeps looking at you like that—like the thought didn’t scare him, didn’t offend him, didn’t cross a line so much as brush up against one he’s very deliberately choosing to respect.

And the fact that he’s flattered by it?

That might be the most dangerous part of all.

You see it settle.

Not in anything he says—he doesn’t need to—but in the way his expression stays easy, untroubled. Amused, yes. A little flattered. And importantly… not closed off.

You recognize that look.

It’s the one he gets when he’s decided something quietly and moved on from it.

He accepted it. Not because it was appropriate. Not because it was invited. But because it was you.

Because you’re a little drunk, a little loose around the edges—and because you didn’t act on it. You didn’t reach. You didn’t say anything out loud.

You just… thought it. And thoughts happen.

Especially like this. Especially tonight.

The understanding settles something in you.

The heat of embarrassment fades into something softer, steadier. You don’t feel reprimanded. You don’t feel foolish. If anything, you feel oddly… safe.

Seen, but not judged.

You shift your gaze away again, calmer this time, the corner of your mouth lifting just slightly like you’re acknowledging it privately.

Okay, you think.

Noted.

Moving on.

Life moving on.

And between you, the line holds.

Clear.

Intact.

Whatever passed between you just now doesn’t need to be resolved or explained. It’s already been understood—filed away with everything else the two of you carry quietly between you.

You stay where you are, grounded again.

And So’lek stays exactly as he is—amused, a little flattered, and very deliberately choosing to let that be enough for tonight.

And something in you finally… eases.

The tension you hadn’t realized you were holding loosens in your chest. The heat of embarrassment fades into something softer, heavier.

Tired.

Content.

You let out a quiet sigh.

Not frustrated.

Not disappointed.

Just… done thinking about it.

And without making a decision so much as following an instinct, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him.

So’lek exhales.

He hesitates—just long enough to decide not to stop you.

And without making a decision so much as following an instinct, you lean forward…

It’s slow, measured—the sound of a decision made quietly.

He shifts his weight and eases himself down from the log to the grass, movements careful so he doesn’t dislodge you. When he settles, it’s close—right there with you—bringing himself to your level without breaking the hold you already have on him.

You don’t let go.

Your arms stay wrapped around him, firm and sure, as you follow the movement instinctively. You turn into him fully, head coming to rest against his shoulder, face burying into the warm curve of his neck.

Your breath ghosts against his skin as you settle there, clinging without apology.

He stills for a moment.

Then his arm comes around you, secure and steady, drawing you closer until you’re half-lying against him, tucked neatly into his chest. His shoulder supports your head, his body a solid line behind and beside you, grounding you completely.

You sigh softly, content.

You recognize it for what it is.

Even if it’s private.

Even if it’s just the two of you, away from everyone else— you got what you wanted after all.

The closeness.

The quiet.

The right to rest like this.

So’lek lowers his chin just slightly, breath warm against your hair. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His hold is answer enough, firm and patient, letting you stay exactly where you chose.

And so you do.

For a long, quiet while, you stay wrapped up in him like this—face hidden, arms tight, body slowly loosening as the night settles around you.

And wrapped up in him like this—face hidden, arms tight, body relaxed—you don’t feel the need to want anything more.

…

For a while, you simply breathe together.

Then, without lifting your head, you mumble, voice thick with sleep and alcohol,

“…Come sleep with me.”

So’lek stills.

This time, it’s immediate.

Not startled.

Just very, very alert.

He looks down at you, really looks at you now—eyes half-closed, limbs heavy, trust written plainly in the way you’re curled into him like this is the safest place you know.

“Here?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head against his chest, a small, impatient movement. “No. My tent.”

A pause.

Not long.

But careful.

“You mean… to sleep,” he says, deliberately.

Not accusing.

Not assuming.

Just testing the ground.

You frown faintly, as if the clarification itself is exhausting.

“Yes,” you mumble. “Sleep. You’re warm. And I don’t want to walk alone.”

Simple.

Dangerously simple.

His jaw tightens just a fraction.

Not because he doesn’t want to.

Because he understands exactly what you’re asking now.

Not sex.

Not a line crossed.

But something that looks an awful lot like a line from the outside.

“Tamtey,” he says quietly.

You shift, finally lifting your head just enough to look at him, eyes unfocused but earnest.

“Just… stay,” you say. “With me. In my bed.”

There’s no seduction in it.

Just tired honesty.

And that might be the hardest version of the request to refuse.

You cling to him for another second, clearly satisfied with the agreement.

Then you pull back just enough to look up at him.

Your eyes flick briefly to his arms.

Then back to his face.

“…Carry me?” you ask, hopeful and completely unashamed.

So’lek just looks at you.

Flat.

Unmoved.

Entirely unimpressed.

“You can walk fine,” he says.

You blink. “…Rude.”

“You walked out here,” he replies calmly. “You danced. You won a drinking game.”

“That was earlier.”

He lifts a brow. “Five minutes ago.”

You pout at him, clearly offended by both the accuracy and the tone.

“I’m very tired now.”

He watches you for another beat, then shifts his weight and stands, offering you a hand instead.

“Up.”

You stare at the hand like it’s betrayed you.

“…You’re the worst,” you mumble, but you take it anyway.

He pulls you up easily, steadying you when you sway just a little more than you meant to. His grip doesn’t tighten, but he doesn’t let go either, keeping you close enough that you can’t tip over without him noticing.

“You’re doing fine,” he says, dry.

You lean into him immediately, arm looping around his waist like you’re making a point. “See? Basically carried.”

“That’s walking,” he corrects.

You huff, dramatic and tired, and rest your forehead briefly against his shoulder before straightening again.

“If I fall, it’s your fault.”

He snorts quietly. “You won’t.”

And annoyingly… he’s right.

You start toward the camp together at an unhurried pace, his steps matched to yours without comment. His hand stays at your back, light but ready, guiding rather than holding you up.

The festival behind you is nearly done now—fires low, voices sparse and sleepy. Ahead, the horizon has begun to pale just slightly, the promise of dawn threading into the night.

You yawn, long and unguarded, leaning into him again as you walk.

“…You’re staying,” you remind him, just in case.

He doesn’t look down at you when he answers.

“I said I would.”

And somehow, even more than being carried, that’s what makes you feel safe enough to keep going.

The camp is mostly quiet by the time you reach your tent. The last of the fires burn low, voices reduced to murmurs and the occasional laugh drifting on the breeze. So’lek ducks inside after you, careful not to jostle you as the world narrows down to canvas walls and dim, familiar shadows.

You barely make it two steps before you turn back into him again.

“Here,” you mumble, already reaching for him like gravity has decided he’s the only stable thing left.

He hums in acknowledgment and eases you down onto the bedding, following after without hesitation. The space is small, warm, smelling faintly of smoke and fabric and you.

He settles on his side. And the moment he’s there, you curl into him like it’s instinct.

Your arms wrap around his torso. Your head tucks beneath his chin. Your body presses close, seeking every bit of warmth he has to offer. You snuggle in deeper, like you’re trying to melt right through him and disappear there.

“Mm,” you murmur, already half gone.

So’lek adjusts automatically, one arm sliding around your back, the other braced beneath you so you’re fully supported. He shifts just enough to keep you comfortable, to make sure your weight is settled, your breathing easy.

You sigh once, long and content. Then… nothing.

Sleep takes you quickly, decisively, the alcohol finally giving way to exhaustion. Your grip loosens but doesn’t let go, breath evening out against his chest, face warm against his skin.

So’lek stays awake for a while. He listens to your breathing. Counts it without meaning to. His thumb traces slow, absent lines along your back—nothing deliberate, nothing demanding.

Just reassurance. Presence.

His thoughts drift. About the night. About restraint. About how easily you trusted him with this.

Eventually, the tension he’s been holding all evening eases out of him too. His breathing slows, his hand stilling where it rests against your back.

He lets his eyes close.

And wrapped around each other in the quiet of the tent, with dawn waiting patiently beyond the canvas,

sleep takes him as well— soft and unguarded, exactly like the night deserves to end.

His hands lingered too long on your shoulder as you were shifted towards the healer’s circle. His presence hovered as you were lowered to the ground, crouching beside you close enough you could feel the heat radiating off him.

Yet he barely looked your way.

He only spoke when he spoken to.

Etuwa’s hands grazed across your bandages, assessing the ways the Zeswa’s work. “She cannot bear weight,” She spoke softly. “Not for some time.”

“I know.” So’lek replied. His voice controlled, even.

Etuwa glanced up at him, her expression tightening. “She will heal here. She is safe here.”

Safe.

The words felt hollow. Meaningless.

You stared up towards the colourful drapes above you, light filtering through them in soft, shifting hues. The glow should have made you feel peace. Instead, it did nothing to ease the tightening knot in your stomach

So’lek shifted beside you, his arm grazing you just enough to make you shiver.

“She will need assistance.” Etuwa continued. “Constantly, and I cannot promise I will be here at all hours.”

“I will make arrangements.” He spoke.

You slowly turned your head towards him. Just enough to see his figure in the corner of your eye. He stood stiff and unmoving, hands clasped tightly in front of him, gaze facing anywhere but you.

He never looked at you.

It stung more than you wanted to admit.

“You are speaking as if I am not here.” You murmured. Your voice came out gruff and coarse. The winds drying your throat.

Etuwa startled slightly, she hadn’t realised you were awake. “Ah I apologise.” She stood up wiping her knees. “I will return soon with fresh herbs.”

The space cleared quickly as she left. A daunting silence that clouded the room. Once again it was just the two of you.

So’lek shifted, adjusting the mat beneath you, smoothing out creases that didn’t matter. He arranged your belongings in your reach with meticulous care. Every movement he made was precise and thoughtful.

Yet he was so distant.

“Thankyou.” You mumbled quietly.

So’lek paused briefly, and for a tortuously brief moment you thought he might finally look at you. Instead, he simply nodded. “Rest now.”

He turned after, moving toward the exit of the healer’s circle. Still no glance. No soft reassurances. No lingering glances. Just his broad silhouette walking away.

Walking away from you.

As if staying had become too much.

Your mouth twisted into a pained frown as the confusion and heartbreak began blooming in your chest.

He paused for just a second in the doorway, his hands slightly trembling. For just a heartbeat you thought he’d turn back.

Then the curtain fell closed with a final sound.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the curtain long after he was gone. A creeping deluded desperation gnawing inside of you.

The silence and solitary felt suffocating as you heard the faint sounds of hometree moving around you. But you remained anchored to the mat, unable to do anything but lay there and listen.

Thoughts ran through your head.

He’ll be back later.

He is just tired.

He wouldn’t just leave like that.

They clouded your consciousness. Swarming your brain to the point a dull headache churned inside your skull. It started to settle in that you were now finally home. Those six weeks stuck with the Zeswa now becoming a memory.

And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing had truly changed but where you were now forced to lie.

Time moved strangely. The world moved around you yet you felt as if you were frozen in place.

Hours and minutes bled into each other until the difference between day and night blurred. Light shifted through the woven drapes, but you were never bothered to open your eyes. All you could do was sleep. Only awake for when Etuwa or Eetu came by to aid you.

You were grateful but you couldn’t help but let your thoughts stray to So’lek.

He had not returned.

Etuwa came and went, it was the only way you grasped onto fleeting time. She worked gently, her hands firm and careful replacing the herbs and bandages that seemed to fuse into your skin.

“He will being fresh water later.” She said adjusting the mat below you, fluffing the soft pillow below your head.

“So’lek?” You asked, naively hopeful.

Etuwa frowned slightly shaking her head. “No, Eetu shall come.”

You let out a sigh nodding. You were grateful for your people’s support, however you were unable to shake off the lingering blooms of disappointment within you.

Eetu came by just as dusk was approaching. A bright smile on his face, a carved cup on his hands.

He crouched beside you his expression warm. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not particularly.” You admitted.

His expression faltered for just a moment. “Ah…” He set the water beside you. “Good sleep will come.”

You huffed, facing your head towards the ceiling. “It is hard to sleep when you are…displaced.”

Eetu tilted his head, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “It is hard to be home again. Especially when you return changed.”

The words were heavy

Changed.

You glanced down at your leg. Its ugliness concealed in layers of thick leaf bandages and bindings that began to feel more like restraint than protection.

“Have you seen So’lek recently?” you asked trying to move the conversation along.

Eetu hesitated for a brief moment.

“I saw him when he brought you home.” He said slowly. “He spoke with Etuwa, he said he had matters to attend to.”

Your heart sank, inhaling a deep breath. “Matters.”

 “Yes.” He shrugged. “The forest does not simply pause because one of us is injured.”

You exhaled a shattered sigh. Trying to put on an understanding face as if the sentence didn’t twist something deep inside you. “Of course.” You murmured. “He has many duties.”

Eetu stayed still for a moment. His eyes studying your expression. “He carries things heavily.” He said, “Heavier than most.”

You didn’t respond.

Because somewhere within you, you hoped you were something he carried.

A couple nights later a realization settled in you uncomfortably deep.

What if So’lek was only avoiding you? You could’ve sworn you heard his voice outside. Low and controlled. Speaking with Eetu or Etuwa. You were certain it was his voice but no one ever mentioned that he had been visiting.

You were beginning to believe you were going crazy. Catching his cadence in breeze, your body responding before your mind could rationalize what you were hearing. Your breath hitching, heart lifting in anticipation that he would waltz through the curtains and come see you.

As the light dimmed beginning another night, you caught yourself staring into the faint glow of the fire in the other side of the room. Your leg throbbed, but the pain did not subdue the ache in your heart.

You had begun to wonder if you were imagining him entirely.

The way he looked at you.

The way his hands lingered. His touch soft and careful.

Maybe he never thought of you that way. It was just an obligation. Just guilt.

His words stuck with you.

“Until I can get you back home safely. I will be here.”

And now, you were home. Surrounded by the safety and support of your own people. Perhaps his duty to you had finished.

The thought settled in your stomach like stones.

Etuwa had you sat up enough in the healer’s tent, washing your body with a woven rag and a bucket of water. You told her that you were able to do it by yourself. And yet every movement sent flaring pain through your leg, sweat beading along your spine. But you refused to make your troubles heard.

You were tired of being fragile.

 As Etuwa wiped away your sweat she spoke casually. Filling the silence with small observations. What has been happening outside your small, secluded part of hometree.

“So’lek came by. He seemed restless.” She mentioned absently.

Your heart jumped at the mention of his name. “So’lek?”

“Yes” Etuwa hummed, her attention moving to applying a green paste to your wound. “He has been lingering but never staying long. He is helping the Sarentu find their way within Hometree.”

“He has been visiting?” Your fingers curl into the mat below you.

“Occasionally.” Etuwa glances up at you, something wary flickering across her features. “And not for long. Never longer than it takes to eat a meal.” She corrected gently. “He makes sure you are tended to. He brought me these herbs here.” She gestured towards the paste on your leg.

“But he does not come.” You whispered, shuddering at the breeze hitting your damp skin.

Etuwa didn’t deny it. “I think So’lek believes distance is a kindness.” She says after a beat of silence. “Sometimes even the toughest of warriors struggle with battles from the heart.”

You let out a humourless laugh. “I am not a battle he needs to fight.”

Etuwa let a hand rest on your shoulder as she rises. “You are home and surrounded by love.” She speaks. “Do not let distance convince you otherwise.”

But the distance had fangs.

And they were beginning to sink in.

By the third week back home, you stopped listening for him.

It wasn’t consciously. Your body still reacted to certain sounds. Footsteps that were too heavy, voices too low. But your mind did not follow. It was easier that way. So’lek had done his duty. Carried his guilt away with him.

Etuwa no longer mentioned his name, neither did Eetu.

And painfully, you let yourself believe that your time with the Dog-tag warrior had come to and end.

Healing was slow and predictable. A routine engraved into the threads of your day. Etuwa would change your bandages, tested your strength, hands guiding you to slowly move your leg once again.

You had begun to learn the limits of your body. Though it was tiring and painful. It was progress.

You were sitting upright rested against a carved piece of wood when Eetu walked into the healer’s circle. He carried a bundle of small cloths and some fruit, a smile forming on his face as he realized you were awake.

“You look stronger today.” He spoke.

“Do I?” you ask with a small smile.

He nodded crouching down to sit with you. “Mhm. Slowly but surely. You will be walking again I know it.”

Your face warmed as the comment passed you. Your gaze drifting to the curtain. Life beyond the healer’s circle felt so distant. Like life outside was simply a spectacle, unable to participate. But as the days went by you were eager to escape your den. To reach outside, to go back to normal.

“So’lek will be relieved to hear it.” Eetu said after following your gaze.

You blinked. “What?”

Eetu paused, confusion etching on his face. “That you are improving? He will be happy to hear it.”

Your heart suddenly lurched out of your chest, thrashing against your ribcage. “You’ve…seen him?”

Eetu hesitated, clearing his throat. “Yes…he was here this morning.”

Your breath caught for a moment. “Here? At Hometree?”

Eetu nodded. A slight frown forming on his face. “He spoke with Etuwa, brought her some more herbs. Strong ones…and many of them.”

It felt like the room was spinning, words jumbling and swarming you. “He was here?” You repeated faintly.

Eetu studied your expression, assuming the words he had said had made your stomach twist. “He comes often.”

Often.

The word rang in your head, loud, buzzing and unforgiving.

“He hasn’t.” You shake your head. “No…because he hasn’t seen me.”

Eetu’s shifted uncomfortably in his place. Realization dawned on him slowly. “Oh.”

The silence after was thick and suffocating. Full of words neither of you knew how to say.

“You thought…” He paused picking his words carefully. “That he had not returned.”

“Yes.” The words were tight and sharp. Your tongue snapping like a whip. “Because no one had mentioned anything. Because I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

Eetu lets out a heavy exhale. “I am sorry Ma eylan.”

“So, he comes,” you whisper, fingers curling into the mat below you. “Sees everyone else…but me?”

Eetu didn’t deny it. Which ached more.

Something hot started to burn behind your eyes. “Did he think I wouldn’t notice his absence?” Your voice trembled. “That I wouldn’t felt it?”

Eetu reached out, resting a soothing hand on your shoulder. “I think So’lek believes he is doing the right thing. That you did not want him to mull around you any longer.”

Those words hit hard. Those words are ones you had spewed at him just days before you both left the Upper Plains. The words that hit him right before he said he would be there  for you until you got home.

“He is wrong.” You say harshly. “Because this…this hurts more.” Your chest was tighter, too full. “I took his presence for granted it seems. Even his sorrows still filled this empty void.” You gestured to the room around you.

“I shall talk to him.” Eetu says gently taking your hands. “Come, we will try standing again. Healing must prevail even with its barriers.”

You let out a sigh letting Eetu grasp your hands as he hauled you up. Your healthy leg doing its most to aid you up. The pain radiated through your other leg as you felt the blood rush down.

You stood weakly, trembling in his hands but you were still standing. Regaining back the normalcy in your life you had begun to crave. And yet, with all of your milestones your mind still lingered.

What would a normal life be worth if you had to live without him? Had these weeks made you weak? A woman susceptible to hopeless romance only to be the victim of heartbreak.

That while your entire life stood still in this small room. The man you craved most to bring you out lacked the courage to enter it.

You were laying on your mat, eyes heavy with sleep. Your days that were filled with mundane nothingness still managed to tire you out. Pain still radiated through your body but it started to dim. Eetu had even managed to aid you in walking two steps earlier today.

You thought that was why you were so tired. And it plagued you. Two steps. A motion you took for granted, if you could go back in time before your injury you would never stop running.

As the silence of the night started to creep into hometree you heard an unfamiliar rustle behind you.

Your ears pricked up as you felt the sudden shift in the air. Your chest tightening instinctively, your hands bracing beside you. You heard footsteps. Heavy and familiar.

You didn’t have to look to know.

“So’lek?”

His name felt almost foreign in your mouth, you had not uttered it in so long.

“Yes.” His voice was soft, slightly hoarse as he tried to lower his tone.

Your breath hitched, hands gripping onto the mat despite your efforts to stay still. Your eyes fixed themselves on the shelves and jars in front of you.

For weeks you had trained yourself to not expect him. To disallow any hope, you had of him returning. But now you felt your body immediately betray you with one whisper from his tongue.

Silence stretched, you had not found the courage to turn around yet, but you could feel his presence looming closer. His shadow from the warm fire casting over your body.

After another beat of silence you turned to face him. And the room became unfathomably loud. He had barely breached the entrance. His hands clasped together behind his back, his gaze flickered from your small form to the room surrounding you.

“You have been busy.” Your voice was bitter, sharp and ready to stab.

“Yes…I have been with the Sarentu.” He muttered softly, walking further into the room. The curtain falling behind him, sealing your privacy.

“Ah...how are they?” Your words conveyed little care. Your tongue trying its best to twist the small talk into something meaningful.

“Good.” He spoke. His body was full of tension. Threads woven so tight, one movement he would snap. His muscles were stiff, everything still except his mouth.

Awkward silence filled the room once again. Its presence thick and muggy. Suffocating the space between you. No glances were shared, no words. Just slow, drawn out quiet.

So’lek cleared his throat pointing his gaze back to you. “Eetu said you were standing.”

You hummed. “Only with help.”

“Do not diminish your achievements. That is progress.” So’lek’s tone was sweeter now, as if the notion of you healing brought a weight off his heart.

“It is hard to notice progress when my enclosure stays untouched.” Your words were cruel, referring to yourself as some sort of spectacle to be viewed. No longer a person but a burden to be monitored.

“But others have noticed it.” So’lek whispered, his words trying to cool the burn of your speech.

“You would have too.” Your gaze finally met his, sharp and cruel. Pupils as dangerous as daggers glaring within him. “If you ever visited me.”

The words landed like a dagger to his heart.

So’lek stilled to a halt. For a slither of a moment, you thought he may pretend he had not heard a thing. That he would leave the words suspended in the air unanswered. Instead, his shoulders sagged, only just. As if the strength holding him upright had begun to slip.

“I did visit.” He said quietly, almost defeated.

You scoffed before you could stop yourself, turning your gaze away from him. “Then why did I not see you.”

He let out a ragged breath. His jaw tightening. He hovered over you, taking a step closer.

“I came almost everyday.” He admitted. “I made sure you were taken care of.”

“Taken care of? Like I am some sort of chore?” You spat, your words cutting him.

“No.” He replied quickly, fast enough that his tongue almost tripped on the words. “I thought…” He stopped, swallowing hard. “I thought that you did not want me here.”

Your brows knit together, confusion and a growing bloom of anger bubbling within you. “What?”

“In the upper plains.” He said softly, sensing your growing tension. “You…asked me to stop hovering, to not mull around you.” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, as if they pain him to say it. “That I was doing more harm than good.”

His voice dropped.

“When you returned home…I was not needed. That my presence would only make you feel smaller.”

His words stunned you into stillness.

“So you decided for me?” you whispered harshly.

“I thought I was respecting you!” His voice raised, the air in the room shifting into something sharper.

“You think disappearing is respect?” Your voice rose. “You think leaving me alone in a room I cannot escape is dignity? As if Eywa has not taken my liberties away with her will?”

He grimaced, flinching at the fire you spewed.

“As if I have not been moved from one prison to another! That I hold my own key but I cannot stand to grab it!” Emotions bubbled within you, every thought, every feeling, every prayer beginning to building within you. Your own emotional eruption imminent.

So’lek went to say something…anything. But words failed him. All he could do was listen, watching how much he had failed you.

“I didn’t want to be handled.” Your words came out as if you were defeated, your lips trembling with each sentence. “I didn’t want to be watched as if I would shatter. I wanted to be seen!”

His eyes widened slightly. His brain reeling with thoughts. How wrong had he been? How much had his guilt clouded his vision? To see what was so clear in front of him.

“You treated me like I was already gone,” you continued. “Like if you touched me I’d shatter!”

“I thought I was protecting you.” His voice shook as he crouched beside you.

You shook your head violently, as if you could fling the tears from your eyes. “You were protecting yourself.”

“No-”

“I am not fragile.” You hissed, shifting on the mat. Your palms braced on either side of you. Fingers curling into the fibres.

“I never said you were.” His head hung low.

“Your actions did.” You reached back, fingers locking around the log behind you, muscles straining as you pushed yourself up. “Every time you decided for me.”

“What- What are you doing?” Hid head snapped up, panic flaring in his eyes as he watched you drag yourself upright. “Ma Eylan- be careful!”

“Don’t!” Your voice cracked with warning. “Don’t help me!”

“You will hurt yourself!” So’lek was already preparing for the worst. His cautions falling on deaf ears. “Please- do not do this!”

“I must.” You snarl, forcing more pressure on your injured leg. Pain exploded instantly, white hot and vicious. Yet you welcomed it. “I need to! Because I choose to.”

“Stop!” His hand closed around your arm. “You do not need to prove anything!”

You shoved him with enough force he stumbled back, his hand still grasped around you.

“I didn’t ask for your permission,” you cried, yanking yourself free.

Your balance shattered.

The world slipped beneath your feet.

For just a heartbeat you were weightless. Toppling down through the air until the floor rushed to meet you.

Pain detonated through your leg. A sharp, broken cry tearing from your throat. Your hands scraped uselessly against the walls as you tried and failed to catch yourself.

So’lek was there in an instant.

“No- no, no,” He gasped, hands hovering inches from you, terrified to touch you, frozen by his own fear. Once again, his intervention had caused you harm. “Eywa- please.”

“Don’t!” you sobbed, shoving weakly at his chest as your body convulsed. Tears burned hot down your cheeks. Your breath coming in shallow, broken pulls. Nausea rising as the pain swallowed everything.

A loud sob erupted from your throat. Shame and regret piling up inside you. Maybe you were as weak and hopeless as everyone else saw you. Were you to ever recover? Had you destroyed the minute progress you had made in a moment of irrational stupidity?

So’lek was frantic around you, his tail lashing, pupils blown. You laid broken before him, and he was hopeless to helping you. Despite your faint resistance his arms wrapped around you as is Eywa herself were trying to rip you away.

Distance would not save him now.

“What were you thinking?!” He choked, his breath ragged, hands brushing your hair from your face. His thumb catching the tears that spilled over your cheeks.

“I just-” A cry ripped from you as a searing white pain shoot through your leg mercilessly. “I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to be fragile; I don’t want to be cared for- I just want to live again.”

So’lek’s hold on you was careful. Yet he didn’t hold you as if you were something broken- but something that was precious.

“You were never fragile.” His voice was softer now, nothing but tenderness and care. “You are so strong…so much stronger than I ever could be.”

Your lip quivered, finally leaning into his touch. The warmth of his skin slowly dulling the growing ache in your leg. “Don’t leave.” You whimper clutching onto to his chest. A stark difference to the strikes you were landing on him before. “Please.”

“I won’t.” So’lek’s head bent down, bringing your forehead closer to his. Your skin resting against each other, noses brushing. “I will be here.”

And in the quiet aftermath, So’lek finally understood that his fear had never kept you safe, it had only ripped you further away from him.

The ache in your leg lingered, but it no longer screamed.

It pulsed dully, like a bruise pressed too often. Yes, it was painful but survivable. It no longer anchored you to the ground, instead simply an obstacle to overcome.

So’lek was close, helping you settle back on to your mat. His movements were slow, careful without being suffocating.

He stayed.

Not outside the curtain, watching from a far.

He stayed beside you.

For a while it felt strange. You had become accustomed to his absence, a constant shadow that seemed to follow you. Your body expected the distance as he vanished from you.

Now it didn’t know how to be without him.

The world was quiet, but the silence was not suffocating. It was cozy and comforting. The light slowly filtering into the room, its warmth caressing your skin.

Yet your body was still tense. Even in the softest of moments, you found yourself bracing for impact. The fear of another searing hot flare shooting through your body. Your hands curled in on themselves waiting to be swept away again.

“You should rest.” So’lek whispered. He noticed the way your shoulders remained tense.

“I am resting,” you replied, though your body betrayed the lie.

He shook his head; a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Ah…your body disagrees.”

You rolled your eyes weakly, hissing as your leg twitched. “Traitor.”

A soft sound escaped him, not quite a laugh, but close enough that your chest warmed at the sound.

“Are you feeling restless?” He questioned, his voice rumbling deep.

“Always.” You replied quickly.

“Do you want to move?” His head tilted down to meet you eyes.

“Do you always ask such stupid questions?” You chuckled looking up at him. “Of course I want to move.”

So’lek rolled his eyes. “I know that. I mean now. Do you want to try?”

You shake your head, worry in your eyes. “We know what happened last time.”

So’lek grimaced. “You will be fine.”  He stood slowly, offering his hand. There was no expectation, he was going to go at your pace.

You placed your weary hand in his. Taking a deep breath.

This time, when your pulled yourself up. It was not an action done to prove something. It was an action made to progress.

Your body didn’t panic. The pain was still there, but it didn’t swallow you whole. So’lek stayed still, he let you guide him. He only touched unless you leaned into him. Which you did…just a little.

“One step Ma Eylan.” He murmured. “You can do it.”

You nodded, your breath hitching.

You had not taken a step in months. Confined to the walls your own body imprisoned you too. One step was all you needed.

Your foot slid forward, it was stiff and unfamiliar. You stood still for a second glancing down at the small movement you had made, trembling. Then you let out a shaky laugh. “I did it.”

“I knew you could.” He said, pride softening his features. So’lek took another step backwards, giving you the space to move once again. “Again. I believe in you.”

You took another step.

Then another.

Each one felt like a victory, while small it was monumental. By the time your leg began to ache, you were grinning despite the sweat beading along your spine.

“You have done so well.” He said gently, worried you may push yourself too far. “Come.”

He guided you back to the mat, slow and steady as your body limped. He eased you down, then sat beside you. Close enough that your shoulders brushed.

You leaned into him without thinking.

For a heartbeat he froze…then relaxed. His arm settling around you, firm and warm. You fit there perfectly, as if your body had meant to be there all along.

“I am happy.” You whispered.

He tilted his head, resting his temple against yours. “As am I.”

Your fingers toyed with the dog tags on his chest, absentminded. “You know” your murmured, “If you leave again without telling me, I might actually kill you.”

His breath huffed against your hair in a short laugh. “Noted.”

You tilted your head up.

And he was already looking at you.

You didn’t realize how close you were until your breath tangled with his.

So’lek stilled, but he didn’t pull away or move closer. As if he was afraid even the smallest shift would shatter this moment. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the gold of his eyes.

His gaze was fixed on your mouth, pulling him in as if it had become something dangerous.

Something sacred.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, his voice barely sound.

His hand came up slowly, as if he was asking for permission. His thumb brushed along your jaw, tracing your neck, feeling where your pulse raced beneath your skin. His touch was light and tentative, no longer the hands of a warrior but the hands of a lover.

You leaned into it.

And that was all it took.

Your breath stuttered, chest lifting sharply. The hand at your jaw tightened just slightly. His forehead rested against your own. His breath hot and uneven against your lips.

“I have wanted this,” he admitted, his words rough, torn from deep within him. “For so long…but I feared I did not deserve it.”

Your fingers curled into his vest, fisting the fabric as if it was the only thing keeping you upright. “I need this.”

For just a moment, he hesitated.

Then he kissed you.

Slowly. Carefully.

His lips brushed yours, barely there, a whisper of touch that sent a shock through your body, sharper than any pain. The world seemed to tilt, sensing narrowing until all you could feel was the warmth.

When you kissed him back, he exhaled a broken sound against your mouth.

The restraint shattered.

His hand slid from your jaw to the back on your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you further into him to deepen the kiss. It was unhurried but certain. His lips moved against yours with precision, slow and thought out. As if he was learning you, memorizing the shape of your lips, the sounds of your mouth, the taste of your tongue.

You had melted into him. The hand on his vest flattened, travelling up to the bareness of his neck feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm – fast and wild.

He kissed you as if he was grounding himself. Like he was afraid that you may vanish if he didn’t hold on.

His thumb brushed your cheek as you let out a small gasp, his lips melting further into you. He could feel the hunger build inside him with every swipe his tongue made against your lips. Hands gripping you tighter pulling you closer into him. He would not end this kiss without your sign. He would move at your pace, by your side for as long as you needed him.

Your lips lingered, pulling away for air. Then they pressed against his, a final kiss, sealing a promise in the space between you. When you finally pulled back, So’lek held you close, foreheads touching, noses brushing, breath shared.

“I am here.” He whispered.

You smiled, small and real. “I know.”

Later that night, when the fire had burned and the room smelled of crushed herbs and smoke, So’lek returned.

He had left earlier to gather you some more herbs. You told him that there was already some there, but he was adamant the ones he would gather were better. To your dismay, he was correct.

So’lek was beside you studying the wraps on your leg. “I made you a drink, it will help you regain strength.” He reached for the water cup beside you.

He held it up. “Drink.”

You obeyed, only to grimace immediately, face contorting as you swallowed. “This tastes like bark.”

So’lek chuckled. “It is bark.”

“Gross.”

Soft silence filled the room, So’lek shifted closer, easing you against his shoulder. The sounds of his comms crackling and talking. “What is it?” You asked looking up at him.

So’lek stifled a frown. “I have to go at first light.” He let out a deep breath. “I have one last…” He stopped himself looking down at the dog tags that adorn his chest. But you understood what he meant.

“You will come back.” It wasn’t a question.

“Of course.” He promised. “I can show you my home, when I return.”

“At resistance?”

So’lek shook his head. “No…it is like,” he smiled looking down “A haven.”

You grinned, fingers tightening around his. “Well, you must take me to see it.”

“I will take you anywhere your heart desires Ma eylan.”

 He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips caressed the soft skin. A promise of his return sealed with a kiss.

Outside the forest begun to shift.

Neither of you knew that this small moment of happiness would crumble so quickly.

a/n: soz if theres any typos i really hate editing LMAO but if u guys want the next part plz tell me i can def end the story here if u want it to have a nicer end but i am conjuring some ideas with the from the ashes pack (also i'd never end this story on a bad ending just am a sucker for MORE angst)

plzplzplz reblog and comment i wanna hear from y'all i appreicate you guys sm! okyeeeee byeeee

You immediately noticed how large scale this shoot was, compared to the other shoots you’ve been to before. As a college student interested in the modelling sector, you had always tried to find opportunities to get yourself familiarised with the industry, and at the same time earn some money to pay off your school fees. Thus you’ve dabbled in helping out with basic chores for shoots, such as buying coffee for the staff, organising the mess on the tables, or the occasional touch up of the model’s makeup. However, all of the shoots you’ve been to so far have been small scale, quick shoots, unlike this shoot which seemed to have about 100 staff members in a rush to get ready. Whoever the model was must have been a huge figure.

“Sorry, this job was kind of last minute so I didn’t have time to read up on the information. Who is the model?” You replied Sejin with slight embarrassment.

“It’s fine, no need to be sorry. The model is Jeon Jungkook of BTS! Do you know how many fans this guy has? This shoot is going to make our company stocks rise to the max!” Sejin laughed out loud at the mere thought of company stocks rising.

Jeon Jungkook? Wow. Who didn’t know Jeon Jungkook? He was the most famous and desired man in the whole South Korea — in fact maybe the whole world. Your jaw hung open. You were going to see Jeon Jungkook? Sure, you were probably not going to reach within a 10 meter radius of him as a small staff, but you were gonna be in the same room as him. You weren’t a big fan of him but you had heard of how famous he was. Jeon Jungkook was a household name. You’ve personally heard your mother and siblings fangirling over him. Who would have known that y/n l/n, the only one in the l/n family who did not fangirl over Jeon Jungkook would be meeting him first. You laughed to yourself, imagining your family’s reaction when you tell them about it.

“Ah, y/n, the shoot is about to start, i’m about to get busy. Could you do me a favour and help me get my file for todays shoot? It’s in my office, you should know where it is.”

“Sure! I’ll go now!” You immediately replied, hoping to do good job so you could get on his good side. You bowed at him quickly, before rushing to his office.

When you reached his office, you immediately found the file, with big, bolded letters written on it. “For Jungkook shoot! Extremely important!” You were about to grab it and leave, when you notice a golden bell beside it, with a post it note written on it. “Bring to the shoot! In case I need to get everyone’s attention since nobody ever listens to me anymore!” You laugh at the note, grabbing both the bell and the notes as you head out of the office.

As you walked in the hallway, you suddenly got a text message from sejin. You placed the bell on top of the file and barely balanced it with your left hand, as your right hand held your phone to read the message.

Help me take the bell too please! Thank you!! - Sejin

You inwardly praise yourself saving a trip back, trying to type a response to sejin with your right thumb.

Just as you were about to hit send, you suddenly felt a hard chest in front of you, harshly colliding into it, sending you to the ground.

Ding! The loud sound of the bell resonated in the empty hallway as it hit the ground.

“What the hell…” You rub at your painful head as you lay on the floor, rushing to get up to grab the file before its contents fly around.

Dischevelled, you grab the file and bell, hugging it close to your chest as you glared up at the person who caused the mess.

You definitely did not expect to see a pair of doe eyes looking at you curiously, with a glint of excitement in them. His mouth was open slightly in awe, as if he just saw an angel. But your jaw hung wider than his when you realised you just bumped into THE JEON JUNGKOOK?

“Oh…OH MY GOD! I’m so so so sorry!” You quickly sobered up, standing up and bowing at him multiple times. You avoided eye contact as you walked past him and tried running away in embarrassment.

But before you could leave, you felt strong, large hands grabbing your wrist.

“W-wait! Don’t go… who are you? Are you my soulmate?”

When you heard what he said, you almost burst into laughter. What? Soulmate? What was this famous star on? Was the most famous guys in the world really asking you if you were his soulmate? You let out a muffled laugh, trying your best to hold it in as you say, “Excuse me?”

“T-the bell. It rang when we bumped into each other. It’s fate.”

You finally let out your laughter at that, laughing uncontrollably at what you thought was a joke, until you noticed his hardened stare and realised maybe he was not joking.

“Um the bell rang because it fell on the floor… I don’t think we are ‘soulmates’, sorry man.” You said awkwardly.

The both of you stood in silence, staring at each other. After 30 seconds, the awkward tension started getting to you and you slightly bowed before walking away back to the shoot.

If you thought that would be the the end of the very weird experience, you were very wrong. As you walked, you could feel a presence behind you. Using your peripheral vision, you were 100% sure Jeon Jungkook, the world’s most desired bachelor was following you around like a puppy. You were starting to get annoyed, the other staff were starting to notice and the attention was definitely not what you needed. You whipped around, face to face with Jungkook.

“Why are you following me?” You ask infuriatingly.

At your annoyed tone, he lets out a small smirk, suddenly having some newfound confidence.

“I’m not following you, I’m going the same way as you.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, turning around and stomping at a quicker pace to the shoot area. Of course, he was still following you closely.

When you reached the shoot, you felt an instant relief with the amount of people bustling around.

“Jungkook is here!”

“What! Where?”

“Jungkook!”

The moment Jungkook entered the room behind you, people immediately took notice of him, running to be by his side and crowding around him. You took the opportunity to blend with the crowd and get away from him.

As you turned back to look at him, you noticed he was looking around for you, after losing you in the crowd. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed as he carried a small frown on his face, eyes glancing around the room trying to find you.

For a guy who could get any girl he want, he seemed weirdly obsessed with you. Did he really think you were his soulmate because of the bell? Maybe he was just playing with you like with other girls. You were just a nobody to him after all. You place the thoughts at the back of your head as you get back to work, finding Sejin.

“Thanks y/n, you can go take a lunch break. I’ll text you if I need you!” Sejin seemed satisfied at your swift pace as he released you for a break.

You give him a small smile as you walk out to the cafeteria with a sigh of relief. Taking one last glance at Jungkook, he still seemed to be trying to find you, with a small cute pout on his face as he seemed slightly frustrated at his futile attempts.

You sat down on an empty bench as you chewed on your sandwich, glad that you could take a short break before the real demands start coming in when the shoot gets busy.

Emergency: Contact some models to see if they’re available ASAP. Part time models OK. Get a variety. Jungkook being picky. He doesn’t want to work with Nari. - Sejin

You furrowed your eyebrows at the message. Jungkook didn’t want to work with Nari? Nari was the biggest female model in Korea. Why didn’t he want to work with her? She was ‘the most beautiful girl in Korea’ and every man loved her. Why did he have to be so uncooperative and make my job so hard? You quickly messaged your model contacts, asking them to come as soon as they could.

Of course, all of them immediately accepted. Who wouldn’t be dying to get an opportunity to model with Jungkook? You led the 4 models to the shoot, noticing the grim and dark mood as soon as you entered. You could tell there was tension due to Jungkook’s lack of cooperation.

When sejin noticed saw the models, his face immediately lighted up.

“Jungkook! The models are here! You can choose any of them to be your partner! These girls are all highly esteemed models and they are all experienced! Any of them would be a great partner!”

You could feel the girls beside you fixing their posture and making a juice pose as they awaited in anticipation for Jungkook to see them.

Jungkook looked up from his phone in disinterest, quickly skimming over the models until his eyes landed on you. Immediately, you noticed a glint of sparkle in his eyes, a child like smile on his face as he pointed at you.

“I want her.”

You instantly tensed up, staring at sejin in shock. You could feel the rest of the staff’s shock as well. You wanted to climb into a hole and die from the tension. Why did he have to cause so much problems for you?

“A-are you sure jungkook? Y/n is a beautiful girl but she’s a staff, not a model…”

You looked at Sejin in desperation, slightly shaking your head and telling him with your eyes that it was a no. However, Jungkook was relentless.

“If it’s not her, i’m not doing this shoot.” He said nonchalantly.

You wanted to smack his handsome little face so bad. You should have just stayed home today. Sejin walked over to you, pulling you aside apologetically.

“I’m so sorry y/n, but you know how important this shoot is to us. Could you please help us out this once? It’s just for today. We will pay extra and it’ll be a great experience! You want to work in the modelling industry in the future right? You could hear desperation in his tone.

You thought about it. Of course this would be a great experience for you, but you were so unprepared. What if you didn’t do well? Or worse what if his fans hated on you? You couldn’t handle that. But with Sejin staring at you so desperately, you felt that the guilt of rejecting him would kill you on the inside. You knew how excited he was for this shoot.

“Fine.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much y/n! Here take this file and read up on the looks for the shoot. I’ll bring you a makeup and stylist team ASAP. The shoot will start immediately when you’re ready!” He handed you a file with immense gratitude written on his face.

You reluctantly grabbed it from him, making your way to the makeup room as you tried to avoid the heated jealous stares of the girls around you. You glared at Jungkook as you walked past him, receiving a smirk in return.

When you reached the makeup room and sat on the model’s chair for the first time, you flipped through the file, reading the contents, your eyes widening and jaws dropping when you read it.

“Underwear shoot???!!”

You stared at yourself in the mirror after you had gotten your makeup and styling done. You were only wearing Calvin Klein underwear and a Calvin Klein jean jacket. Were you really about to do this? Of course, you looked hot. This was probably the hottest you have been in your whole 21 years of your life. But you were so nervous. You sucked in a deep breath, telling yourself: You have to do this well. This will give you many opportunities. Just suck it up.

You walked out awkwardly, feeling the heat of everyone’s stares. You could especially feel Jungkook’s heated stare.

“y/n! You look great! Come here! Let’s start the shoot!” Sejin commented in excitement when you came out.

You awkwardly walked over to in front of the camera where Jungkook was already waiting.

“Ok, y/n, I need you to sit on Jungkook’s lap and grab his neck while looking up innocently at the camera.”

You looked at Jungkook who had a smug look on his face as he waited for you to approach him. You tried not to stare down at Jungkook’s sudden exposed abs. Sucking up your embarrassment, you did as Sejin said.

Unexpectedly, the shoot went smoother than you expected. You managed to do many of the poses Sejin told you to do, even the intimate ones. Sejin even commented that you were a natural. Looking at the pictures taken, you also noticed that you somehow had a natural chemistry with Jungkook, with all your pictures with him seeming natural, like a real couple. In one of the pictures, you were straddling Jungkook as you both stared into each other’s eyes as if you both loved each other. You felt yourself blush as you stared at the picture. Despite the slight embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel a new sense of pride when you were praised by everybody there, even staff members who previously did not even acknowledge your presence.

“And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone!” Sejin shouted.

You felt a flush of relief feel your body, a sense of tiredness taking over your body as you could finally relax.

You slowly got up from Jungkook’s shirtless body, looking away from him. You could still sense him staring at you as you walked away to change out of the uncomfortable undergarments.

After removing the extravagant makeup and changing into comfortable clothes, you walked out of the shoot feeling much more relaxed. You looked at the time on your phone, noticing it was already 11pm. Everybody must have already left by now.

You let out a content sigh, thinking back on the stressful day.

“y/n, wait! Dont go yet!”

Just as you were about to step out of the building, you heard a panicked voice behind you.

You turn around, seeing Jungkook who was panting hard as he bent down to catch his breath. He had changed into more comfortable clothing, with a hoodie and sweats, without any makeup on his face. Yet with such a natural look, he seemed so much more attractive to you. He must have ran after you if he was panting so much.

You crossed your arms, playfully smiling at him as you asked him why he stopped you. You felt a newfound sense of comfort with him after the shoot with him, maybe because you had been in such intimate positions with him.

“I-I need to tell you something. T-there’s something wrong with your phone. It doesn’t have your number in it…” Jungkook seemed nervous.

You looked at him in confusion, not understanding.

“W-wait! I mean there’s something wrong with my phone! It doesn’t have your number!” Jungkook hit his head in frustration, seeming actually annoyed at himself for not pulling off his pickup line correctly.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” You ask with a playful smirk on your face.

“You can fix it by giving me your number.” He said with a shy smile, still slightly embarrassed from his failed pickup line, as he reached out his phone to you.

You laughed out loud at his shyness and relentless determination. Jungkook laughed along with you shyly as you both shared a moment in the sweet darkness of the night.

You grabbed his phone from his hand, typing out your phone number.

The image was a little dark, but it was still enough to calm Jungkook’s nerves as it was no stranger standing out there, but the tall frame that belonged to one Kim Mingyu. And the other man standing next to him, head covered by his hood to escape the light drizzle, was Cha Eunwoo. 

Those two had invited Jungkook out several times this week, but for half of those, the idol wasn’t even in Seoul, and for the other half, he just didn’t feel like leaving his home. Much like tonight, as the weather was starting to grow colder by the hour. Jungkook should have expected them to show up here, actually. 

“What do you want?” Jungkook answered the intercom, biting back a grin from how Mingyu was jumping with his hands in his pockets.  

“Open uuuuuup, it's cold as balls out here.” the older man groaned with a bit of a slur.  

“What are you doing here?!” Jungkook replied, still not opening the door just out of mischief. 

“You wouldn't come out with us!” Eunwoo confirmed his identity by lifting his head up to yell at the security camera. 

“Wait, you said he invited us over–” 

A third voice made Jungkook freeze as if he was the one standing out in the cold instead of his friends. You moved out from behind Mingyu, whose frame was completely blocking you from the camera view until now. Jungkook had never heard your voice, not like this; maybe in the background of calls or audio messages, but it was muffled by other noises. 

And he knew it was you, the girl his 97 liner friends kept trying to set him up with for the longest time, someone Jungkook still used his private, secret instagram account to spy on from time to time. The idol had seen you were tagged in one of Mingyu’s posts tonight (also on Mingyu’s private account), but he’d never guess they would have brought you all the way to his house. 

Annoying Jungkook after a drunken night out was usually a two man job. 

“We might have lied.” Eunwoo answered you sheepishly, which made you punch him in the arm. It looked harmless from where Jungkook was watching and Eunwoo overpowered you easily by taking your arms and pulling you into his body instead. 

“You two are assholes.” you decided, obviously using Eunwoo to keep yourself warm.

“I'm coming, just give me a minute–” Jungkook announced, looking around his home in mild panic. 

“Are you not dressed? We've seen it before.” Mingyu laughed as if he was the funniest guy in the world. 

Thankfully being away from home for so long this week meant that Jungkook’s apartment wasn’t a complete mess. Surely there were dishes in the sink, but they weren’t piling up yet, his suitcase was still to be unpacked, open in a corner, and his motorbike helmets weren’t stored inside the closet where they should be. 

But at least his laundry basket wasn’t overflowing and the place actually smelled quite nice. 

Which couldn’t exactly be said about his own shirt, which made Jungkook run to the suitcase to find a clean shirt to wear; going for a brand new, black cotton, Calvin Klein piece that was yet to be worn, and he went as far as spraying some of the only perfume he usually brought along on trips. 

“Finally!” Mingyu was the first to slip into the house after Jungkook unlocked the front door, giving the owner of the place a quick, cold hug. 

“Jaykaaaaay.” Eunwoo was the second one to greet him, hug a lot warmer and a lot more floral, despite the slight stench of alcohol. 

While the two men took off their jackets and shoes by the entrance, already at ease inside Jungkook’s house, you were a lot more careful with how you walked in. Jungkook locked the door behind you, saving you all from the cold wind, and he really regretted leaving you outside for so long. 

You had on a thigh-long, faux leather jacket, but you were only wearing a black dress underneath, legs bare and chest… Damn. Jungkook averted his eyes to not get caught staring too much at your figure as you bent down slightly to unzip your boots and take off your socks, but he couldn’t ignore you. 

This was the first time the two of you were face to face, a fact that very much excited and terrified Jungkook all at once. He’d heard so much about you, things like ‘she’d be perfect for you if you’d give her a chance’, or ‘she’s a cool one, you’d get along great if you met her’, that he couldn’t feel like he already knew you somehow.

You let Mingyu take the jacket from you once you slipped it off your arms, turning to Jungkook with an apology ready. “I'm so sorry, I swear they said we were coming over because you invited us.”  

“It's okay.” Jungkook assured you, still just standing by the entrance like a malfunctioning Sim Character. He just couldn’t help but be captivated by everything about you. The way your hair framed your face, or how your eyes had a little bit of shimmer to them, and your lips– Eunwoo fake coughed behind his hand, making Jungkook stop zoning out and bow. “Hi.”

“Hi.” your smile was enchanting as you bowed your head in greeting, telling him your name as if he didn’t know it already. “It is nice to finally meet you, Jungkook.” 

“Yeah–” 

“I thought you said you couldn't come out tonight because you were busy.” Mingyu threw an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder to make his legs move and save him from the embarrassment of being frozen in front of you. 

“I am–”

“You don't look busy.” Eunwoo was following right behind and Jungkook could almost hear your smaller steps as the four of you made it to the main living room. 

“Don't mind them, they had a bit too much at the bar.” you apologized for your common friends, but Jungkook was used to it; the gentle teasing and slight bickering. The three of them were all born in the same year, but Jungkook was still the youngest by a few months, always used to being the maknae. 

“And we're about to have some more.” Mingyu was already circling the kitchen island, rubbing his hands together to open Jungkook’s alcohol fridge. 

“How do you handle them?” Jungkook wheezed, turning to you. 

“You know what, I have no idea.” despite your fake annoyance as you crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the back of his couch, you still held fondness in your eyes. “Maybe we should ditch them and go out just the two of us next time.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the stupid heat on his cheeks or the flush on his neck, biting down a ridiculous grin as it sounded like you were asking him out. While he knew that’s not what you were doing, merely sending somewhat of a dig towards your friends, it still made Jungkook’s tummy fill with butterflies. 

The same ones that turned a little green in color as Mingyu called to you:

“What are you having, babe?” the tall man was looking at you over his shoulder, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted to drink. 

“Just water, thank you.” was your easy reply. Despite you also smelling a tiny bit like alcohol, you were pacing yourself a lot better than the other two, obviously the responsible one. 

“Kook?” the older man asked him after reaching for a water bottle and waited for you to approach him to take it. 

“The usual.” Jungkook knew his friend was familiar with his kitchen and if they wanted to invade his house like this, Mingyu could go ahead and make his drink. 

“Eunwoo?” Mingyu asked the final guest, who was already coming closer to see it for himself. 

“I'll check the options.” 

As you unscrewed the cold water bottle –Jungkook had to hold back from offering to do it himself–, you came back to where he still was by the couch, standing just a little closer to him than before. 

“Do they usually raid your fridge like this?” you asked him with a nod of your head towards the two men who started to serve the alcohol and laugh as if they were alone in their own little world.  “I have the same problem.” 

Eunwoo still heard you and scoffed. “We always replace everything we take from there.” 

“You never do that for me!” Jungkook whined, which made his own ears feel hot, but your giggle made it all worth it. 

“We like her better.” Mingyu shrugged his wide shoulders, pulling the cap of the whiskey bottle with a dramatic pop. 

You were laughing again, a little louder than before, and Jungkook wished he’d been the one to have that effect on you. And then you said: “No need to kiss my ass, you know I already can't say no to you.” 

Mingyu was laughing along and sending you a wink and Jungkook really hoped his drink would be ready soon so he could let loose a little more. Realistically speaking, he knew he didn’t have any reason to be jealous of you. Firstly because he didn’t even properly know you, and, secondly, he knew there was nothing going on between you and Mingyu, or you and Eunwoo. 

If there was, both hyungs most definitely wouldn’t make so many attempts to try and get you and Jungkook to hook up. It was easier to believe that both men were acting like this in front of Jungkook because they knew how he felt about you and were trying to get a rise out of him. 

If not to get him to do something, then at least to have some fun of their own. 

Your tiny scoff brought Jungkook’s attention back to you, noticing you were looking around his space. “So I guess idols are all the same, huh?” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Jungkook asked curiously, taking his eyes from you only when Eunwoo passed him his drink. 

“Not a single painting or poster on your walls,” you noted, still looking around, but not in a way that was supposed to make Jungkook feel bad. “But you have a workout machine in your living room?”

“I’m not here permanently, just while my house is being built.” Jungkook also didn’t want to sound too big for these walls, he loved this home, but it was very much temporary. 

“Kook is building a three story bachelor pad.” Mingyu provided with a bit of a hiccup. 

“Oh?” you turned to Jungkook, hiding a chuckle behind your water bottle and a curious tilt of your head. 

“It’s not a bachelor pad, I just need more space for my dogs.” he explained to you, trying not to scrunch his face as he tasted his drink that had more whiskey than he ever put in the ones he made. “But I have some cool stuff here, too.” 

“Yeah?” 

Jungkook took a longer sip of his drink as he walked to the other side of the room and you followed suit. He placed the glass on top of the counter and wiped his hands on his sweats before opening a hidden closet on the wall. That’s where he stored his… Well, toys. 

Like his noraebang machine and mics, some action figures, some of the awards he was given ever since GOLDEN came out and his lights. Jungkook had his fair share of girls inside this house, but he never tried to impress any of them with his gadgets, knowing most of his one night stands would either find them boring or he didn’t care about them enough to show them those parts of his personality. 

But for some reason he wanted to show them to you. 

Jungkook started with a light-up sphere that cast a purple glow over the whole room as he turned it on. It wasn’t too bright to hurt your eyes and it looked cooler with the overhead lamps turned off, but you were still excited to hold it. 

Next, he showed you what looked like a lightsaber, still in a bora-purple color, and went as far as showing you a few tricks he’d been practicing to show ARMY in one of his random lives. 

“Okay, that is pretty cool.” you had a pretty smile on your face as you let him take back the sphere that was still in your hands. “Where do you even get stuff like these?”

“The internet, basically.” Jungkook put his things back into the closet for safe keeping; if he left them out, Mingyu and Eunwoo might as well try to play baseball with them. 

“I might need to start shopping for more than makeup and shoes.” you mumbled, taking your water bottle back for a new sip.

Jungkook wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to wear makeup, but instead: “Don't you work with makeup?” 

“Close, I work with hair. That's how I met them.” you corrected him kindly, throwing a quick look to the two idols sitting on Jungkook’s couch. “I used to be a hairdresser for SEVENTEEN, but I worked with Woozi.”

‘Yeah, until you dropped us.” Mingyu was obviously overhearing the conversation happening between Jungkook and you. 

“I didn't drop you, you big baby, I just learned to make more money.” you said without turning around to face the man. Instead, you seemed more interested in telling Jungkook more about yourself. “Now I have my own salon. People really pay a lot more for a simple haircut if it's done by an 'idol group's former stylist'.” 

“And you’re also really good, that helps.” Eunwoo added from the couch. 

“Thanks, Cha.” this time you turned to him quickly to show your gratitude for the praise. “I still do their hair from time to time. When they let me.”

Jungkook wondered if you’d ever do his hair, too. 

Not that he had much of it at the time, his hair hadn’t been this short in years. It was really long a few months ago, but he’d been cutting it shorter and shorter throughout his promotion schedules for his first solo album, hoping that his fans wouldn’t be too disheartened when he had to shave his head. 

“Would you show me where the bathroom is?” you asked Jungkook in a tiny voice, fingers having a bit of a hard time to close the lid on your water bottle. 

“Of course,” Jungkook nodded, getting into host mode. “There’s a guest bathroom in the sitting room.” 

Jungkook left the living room with you walking beside him, hoping to the universe that you didn’t feel the knowing stares from Mingyu and Eunwoo as you both left on your own. And he especially hoped that you didn’t think the ‘ohhhhhs’ and gasps they were letting out were aimed at you. 

The sitting room was just across the narrow hallway from the kitchen and living room, and a little smaller, too. But it was separate enough that you couldn’t hear Eunwoo and Mingyu anymore, with a french door that automatically closed every time someone went in or out. If Jungkook intended on staying much longer in this apartment, he would’ve turned it into a gaming room or a home theater. 

The only thing about it, and something that Jungkook never got around to really fixing, were the lights. The bulbs for the outlandish chandelier were too expensive and difficult to replace, so he simply… Didn’t. 

Instead, he left one of his galaxy projectors already plugged into the socket and left the remote control for it next to the doors. The whole room was illuminated by the ever changing nebulas that went from red, to green, to blue and the many laser dots that mimicked stars and comets. 

You let out a surprised gasp, looking at the ceiling with that pretty smile on your pretty face again. And if Jungkook already thought you were beautiful before, you were breathtaking right now, under the stars cast by his favorite lamp. 

“The bathroom is through that door over there.” Jungkook didn’t want to interrupt the moment, as you looked so entranced by the lights, but if you–

“I didn’t really need to use the bathroom.” you admitted. “I was just trying to get you alone.”

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat and then another. “Why?”

“So we can hang out just the two of us.” you continued, pulling the string that was tying itself around his heart. “And so I can be the one to tell you about my crush and not those two.”

“Y-you have a crush on me?” Jungkook’s lisp only came out when he was nervous and he could definitely admit that that’s what was happening right now.  

“Silly, right? To be so into someone I've never met.” you chuckled, smoothing the front of your dress, looking anywhere but him, suddenly shy. And it sounded like something Jungkook had been gaslighting himself into believing since you walked into his house.  “But they talk very highly of you, so it feels like I do know you.” 

“I don't think it's silly,” Jungkook chuckled to himself, putting the pieces together, how his friends must be doing to you the same thing they were doing to him. “I feel the same way about you.”

“I know. Mingyu told me.” you were holding your hands at your front, fiddling with your fingers and Jungkook wanted to be the one to do that instead. “But you never come out to drink with us, so I didn’t believe him.” 

“I've been busy…” Jungkook might sound like a broken record, but it was true. He’d been flying in and out of South Korea for the past two months, at least, to follow his solo promotions. Just last week he had filmed a collab with Usher of all people. “Now I wish I made time.” 

“We have time now.” you told him in a soft spoken and hopeful tone that did nothing to calm the storm in his chest. “So can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” the man sounded breathy as his feet took him a step closer to you. 

“Are you gonna let me find out what those lip rings feel like?” 

All of the air inside Jungkook’s lungs were sucked out of him by your words. He’d been with bold women before, not usually what he went for, but had a taste for them depending on his mood. But they usually held themselves a little higher, had a little more confidence while doing so. 

And you were stunning enough to have all the confidence in this world, and yet your eyes were a little wide and your fidgeting was a little shy. This was clearly not something you were used to doing, being the one to chase after what you wanted like this. 

It could only mean that you wanted Jungkook as much as he wanted you, enough to swallow your own reservations and simply go for it. And that leveled the field for Jungkook a little more, so he could get a little playful. 

Two of his fingers lifted your chin as he stared down at you, watching as the dancing cosmos above you reflected in your eyes. Your lips parted as you sucked in a breath, making Jungkook smirk before placing his other hand on your hip. You were already menting into him, eyes fluttering as your hands rested on his chest. 

He leaned in ever so slowly, lips ghosting yours, breathing in the strawberry drops you likely sucked on at some point before coming over. You made the sweetest little sounds as Jungkook had a point of dragging his bottom lip over your mouth, his double piercings drawing patterns over your plump flesh. 

Both of your breathings were heavy and try as he might, Jungkook couldn’t pretend he wasn’t as affected about this, couldn’t play it cool when the woman he’d been distantly pinning over was right here and in front of him. 

Willing, pleading. 

The fingers on your chin slipped to the back of your neck, hold firm and gentle. Yours were bunching up the front of Jungkook’s shirt and he didn’t even think you noticed. His mouth pressed more firmly against yours and you pressed your front to his chest, a tiny moan being swallowed by him as his tongue pushed itself between your parted lips. 

Jungkook tilted his head to one side and his control on your neck made you do the same to the opposite side, lips moving slowly as you followed his lead and let him deepen the kiss. The flicks of his tongue were lazy but determined and you were turning into melted caramel in his arms. 

And then you were latching your lips around his bottom one and sucking it into your mouth, letting it drag between your teeth before wobbling back into place. 

“What did you think?” he asked you in a deep, low voice that made you tremble in his hold. 

“Don’t think I have enough data to form an opinion yet.” you smiled. “We should do it again.” 

Jungkook chuckled, pressing his lips against yours once more. And if you were bold with him, he hoped you wouldn’t mind if he did the same as his hands moved to your sides and stopped on your waist to hoist you up. You let out a squeal that made him laugh, but wrapped your legs around his hips in instinct, hands holding yourself up by his shoulders. 

He walked with you in his arms to the cream colored couch, plopping down in the middle of it with you in his lap. You adjusted your legs to place them on each side of his thighs, straddling him. Your hands went to his neck and Jungkook closed his eyes as he felt the tip of your tongue flicking his lip rings from one side to the other. 

“You like them, huh?” Jungkook smirked, eyelids heavy as he watched you nod. His hands were on your skin, resting just above your knees as he rubbed slow circles with his thumbs. 

“I’m starting to like you very much.” your small hand cradled the side of his face and Jungkook felt warmth all over. How could you say those things, to someone like him, and not expect him to be even more infatuated with you? 

“What are you doing to me?” he asked you with a groan, eyes closing as he moved forward to kiss down your jaw. The nibbles of his teeth on your skin were making you squirm on his lap and moan softly. 

“Anything you let me.” was your reply, bold once again as you pressed your legs against his sides. As if suddenly concerned, you quickly added: “I promise I'm not usually this forward.”

“What's making you?” Jungkook mumbled against the underside of your jaw, lips parting to lick down your throat. You were rocking your hips on top of him, making his hands slide upwards on your smooth skin and his fingertips reach the bottom of your dress. 

“I know you gotta leave soon.” your voice was dreamy, but there was a sad undertone to it. “Doesn't sound like an opportunity I'd like to miss.”

The way you said it, so carefully paired with the caressing of his cheek with your thumb, made all the difference. You weren’t interested in ‘sleeping with Jeon Jung Kook of BTS’. You were interested in him for him, even if your interactions in person had been so short, you wanted to get to know him. Just like he already knew he wanted to get to know you before you even showed up at his door tonight. 

And he could also understand the urgency. 

Jungkook was enlisting soon, he’d go into the military with Jimin in a few days, following the steps of their hyungs. As much as he’d like to take you on a date first, spend a few more hours with you before jumping into the physical part of this, Jungkook knew he didn’t have that luxury right now.  

“Me neither.” he agreed, blinking his own daze away so he could look at your face to find swollen lips and blown pupils that shone blue, red and green. “So you really want this? Here on the couch?” 

“Unless you wanna go out there and risk those two catching us.” you looked at the door then, which didn’t have a lock. 

You also revealed the other side of your neck to him and suddenly Jungkook couldn’t think straight. 

“Not a fat chance.” his mouth was on your skin again, covering the side of your throat that he hadn’t marked up yet. “I’m okay with this if you are.” 

“I’m okay,” you tilted your head to the side to give him more space to cover, hand slipping into his short hair as you rocked your hips back and forth in search of friction. “More than okay, promise.” 

Jungkook mumbled against your skin, biting a spot on your shoulder as your fingers tangled in his dark locks and you tugged. You moaned from the pain, so beautifully that it made his painfully hard cock throb in his pants. Not able to keep his hands off of you for a single second longer, Jungkook’s hands slipped under your dress, on the curve of your ass, and he pulled you flush against his crotch. 

“Fuck.” you moaned, brows furrowed, letting his large hands guide you on his lap so you could rub your clothed core against him. “Jungkook…”

“You sound so fucking sweet, baby.” he praised, looking up at you, reading the want and pleasure on your face. “You better keep calling my name, yeah?” 

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

The man’s hips bucked upwards, rubbing against you for his own search of relief, doing just as you pleaded by reaching for your mouth with his. The kiss was sloppy and deep, wetter with every flick of his tongue. Every time his lip rings scratched your lips, you moaned into his mouth and the gentle tug he felt made it hard to breathe. 

Your hands were lost in his hair and in the back of his neck, nails pressing down as his fingers kneaded your ass. Every time he squeezed a little harder, you whined a little sweeter. 

Without breaking the kiss, Jungkook held you against his chest to gently flip the two of you around so you could be laying with your back on the couch and he was on top of you. The faux leader creaked with your movements, but it was comfortable enough. He’d certainly never fucked anyone on it before, but it wouldn’t stop him now. 

Your legs were parting to fit his hips in between them, yours never stopping grinding against his. Jungkook’s tattooed hand left your back and came to your front, finding your chest and cupping one of your breasts. Your moans were more constant as you got lost in him and soon you couldn’t keep up with the kiss anymore. Instead, you chose to wrap your wicked lips around his tongue and you sucked on it slowly, making a mess. 

Pulling back so he could actually get some air into his lungs as they started to burn, you brought your hands to the bottom of his shirt and gave it a tug. You didn’t need to ask him for Jungkook to know you wanted to take it off. 

With one swift pull, he removed the fabric and let it fall on the ground, watching you watching him. Jungkook was confident in how he looked right now, having just gotten off his promo schedules a few days ago, he was still in what he considered to be his perfect shape. You didn’t seem like the type of girl that was fixated on looks rather than chemistry and personality, but it meant a lot for his own ego that this is what he looked like the first time you saw him. 

You ran a hand down his stomach, fingertips tracing his abs, playfully circling his belly button, coming so close to the elastic band of his sweatpants that his lower tummy clenched. 

“You’re so handsome, Jungkook.” you praised, sending shivers up his spine. 

“And you’re devastating, baby.” he almost whispered, watching your smile morph into the prettiest ‘o’ shape as both of his hands palmed your chest. 

“Keep calling me that and I’m not gonna answer for my actions.” you bowed your back off the couch, pressing your tits harder into his hands. 

Jungkook chuckled gravely, leaning down and over you to kiss under your ear, murmuring: “Do your fucking worse, baby.” 

You trembled underneath him, but your hands were pressing against his chest to push him away from you. He gave you space to sit up, watching with interest as you reached behind yourself to pull the zipper down on your dress. The thin straps slipped down your shoulder as the fabric loosened its grip, but instead of letting it fall lower, you wiggled your hips to pull the one piece upwards to reveal your half naked body. 

You looked deliciously tempting, pebbled nipples on full breasts, pushing your hair behind you as you laid back down. Jungkook’s chest was heaving with his labored breaths as he devoured you with his eyes, from your flushed neck, down to your perfect tits and south. You spread your legs to him, no shame in you upon revealing the wet spot as your drenched underwear was sticking to your folds. 

“Pretty lace.” the idol mumbled, bringing a tattooed finger to play with the delicate fabric barely keeping your cunt covered. 

“Mingyu said you might come out tonight.” you admitted, licking between your lips. 

“And you wanted to look nice for me, hm?” Jungkook’s lips were pulled in a corner, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Were you hoping I’d see this?” 

“I would have let you fuck me in the bathroom of the bar, if you were into that.” you were nodding, rocking your hips against his hand. “Would let you do anything. Still will.” 

“Let me make you feel good.” Jungkook was glad he wasn’t wearing any underwear inside his sweats, the constriction would be painful with how hard he was throbbing just at hearing your words and thinking about everything he wanted to do to you. “Let me taste you.” 

“Please, Jungkook.”

You whimpered, hand finding his hair as the man laid between your legs to kiss the inside of your thigh. Jungkook groaned at your scent and how warm you felt under his lips, fingers hooking on the elastic of your lacy underwear to pull it off of your bent legs. 

Instead of letting you stretch your legs or even drop one over the edge of the couch, he held your thighs just like that, nestling his face between them. Jungkook’s fingers created dents on your skin as he pulled you lower and close to his face, tongue licking a bold stripe on your folds to hear you whine. 

“Fucking hell–” your back arched as your thighs twitched and Jungkook felt your pussy throbbing just beneath his lips. His tongue pushed between your dripping lips, licking you up and down slowly. “Ohh, that feels so good…”

Jungkook hummed, mouth too busy to tell you how good you tasted, your heady flavor alone was enough to make Jungkook rub his hips against the couch in search of friction. His eyes closed just for a few seconds as he explored you, paying attention to your lewd sounds, learning your body and what you liked. 

His head followed the movements of his lips, smacking against your pussy, slurping your wetness, circling your hole before bringing his attention up to your clit. Jungkook’s lowered gaze found you watching him with your lips between your teeth and your hands squeezing your tits and rolling your nipples. 

You were so fucking gorgeous like this that he could cum in his pants just from watching you. 

Jungkook brought his right hand between your cunt and his mouth, using his pointer and middle finger to spread your lips in front of his eyes. Licking his lips at the sight of you, the twitch on your swollen clit, Jungkook brought his bottom lip to it. As soon as the metal of his lip rings touched it, you cried out and reached for the couch cushions. The idol gently circled and dragged his piercings against your sensitive clit, stimulating you in ways he guessed you never felt before. 

Being careful not to overwhelm you at once, Jungkook used his tongue to spread the rings on his bottom lip and position your throbbing clit between them, making up and down movements to rub it on both sides as the tip of his tongue flicked your clit up and down. 

“Oh my fucking god, Jungkook–!” your cries were loud and music to his ears. Your fingers tugged his short hair as you wiggled your hips, craving more. 

And he was willing to give you the fucking world. 

His fingers let go of your folds to snake down to your hole and you were so wet and dripping that he coated his digits to make them slippery enough before using his fingertips to circle your entrance. Jungkook’s lips and tongue were still focusing on your clit, starting to add broader licks and sucks to his gentle teasing. 

“You’re doing so well for me, baby.” he praised slowly, looking at your face and closed eyes. “Need to stretch your pretty cunt so I can fuck you, okay?” 

“Mhmm!” you nodded, teeth worrying your bottom lip as his fingers pushed into you, finding close to no resistance from how wet you were. “Jesus fucking christ–”

“What a dirty mouth on such a pretty baby.” Jungkook spread his fingers inside you, feeling your walls flutter open and clench around them, more of your slick dripping out of you. “Bet I can make you cum just like this. I can tell you’re so close already, aren’t you?” 

“Been fantasizing about this for so long–” you whined, clenching and sucking his fingers as Jungkook pushed them deeper. “Want you so bad.” 

“You can have me.” it should be scary how truthful that statement was. 

Maybe you already did. 

Jungkook hooked his fingers and fucked them upwards into you, finding that swollen patch of skin inside your walls, making you moan out loud, amess of mumbled words that sounded a lot like his name. That’s when he knew to bring his mouth to your pussy again, kissing it all over and paying double attention to your clit. As his lips sucked it into his mouth and his tongue rubbed it in circles and figure eights, two of Jungkook’s fingers fucked you hard and steady. 

“Jungkook, please, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum so hard–” you didn’t need to tell him, not when you were squeezing his fingers so tight and your thighs were shaking so much around his head. 

“Cum for me, baby.” 

His words, his permission, were all you needed to let go and let the band snap. You clenched impossibly hard and felt wetter and wetter the more he fingered your cunt, not letting up to make sure you’d ride your orgasm for as long as you could. You were squirming on the couch, body moving easily with your sweaty skin. 

Jungkook’s own pants felt wet as he got on his knees making him wonder if he actually did cum untouched, the dark spot on the gray fabric being proof enough of how much he desired you. You were slowly coming down, pushing your hair away from your face, basking with a beautiful afterglow. 

“That was–” you had to stop talking to breathe again, making Jungkook smile as he wiped his bottom lip off your release. You were a little delirious as you giggled, watching him as you said: “Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

“And you taste really fucking sweet.” Jungkook cleared his throat as he swallowed, coming up to lay on top of you as you opened your arms to call him to you. 

He was nothing but a gentleman, willing to wait for you to recover, or even stop, if you’ve had your fill of him, or a change of heart for any reason. But you were reaching for his tattooed wrist and bringing his digits into your mouth. Your tongue worked slowly on his fingers, cleaning them from your cum, keeping eye contact as he knew you wanted to show off what your fucking mouth could do. 

“Want to fuck you so bad.” Jungkook pressed his fingers gently on the flat of your tongue, reading your reactions, but finding no denial from you as you allowed him to finger your mouth. His hips were rutting his swollen erection against your hip as your hand reached between his legs. 

You removed his fingers from your mouth, both covered in your spit that started to drip down his wrist. “Fuck me, then.”

“Yeah?” he whined, lips finding your cheek as your hand worked his cock over his pants. 

“Please, Jungkook.” you nodded, looking at him through wet lashes. 

“Wait a second for me, okay?” Jungkook sighed, despite wanting nothing more than to stay right here all night and let you continue to jerk him off. 

But if your hand already felt this good, he couldn’t wait to find out what being inside you was like. You were pouting adorably as he left the warmth of your body and comfort of the couch to pad his way to the bathroom, searching all of the cabinets and drawers until he found a new box of condoms. Taking one and holding the gold wrapper with his teeth, Jungkook walked back into the spare room as he pushed his pants down his hips and kicked them off his legs. 

You were sitting up with a blinding smile as you watched him wobble as the bottom cuffs of his pants got caught on his heels, but he didn’t mind it if he got to see you so happy. And then his hand was wrapping around his cock to give it a few strokes before tearing though the condom and rolling it down his throbbing length. You were licking your lips, but if he let that mouth anywhere near him, Jungkook would come undone down your throat. 

“Are you ready for me, baby?” Jungkook kneeled on the couch and you spread your legs again, so wide that your left foot ended up on the floor as your right knee was against the back of the couch. 

“You tell me.” you teased with the tilt of your head. 

Jungkook stared at your pussy; lips swollen and glistening from his spit and your orgasm, hole stretched enough for him to fit, clit begging to be played with again. 

“You’re something else.” he thought out loud, shaking his head and using the hand that wasn’t holding his cock to push his sweaty hair off his forehead. 

You laid back down with your head on the arm of the couch as Jungkook brought his covered cock to your pussy, brushing it up and down your folds to coat the lubed up latex with even more slick. He really wished he could feel you properly, with no barriers, but that was something that would have to wait. You might have skipped a few steps, gone a little backwards, but this was something that took intimacy and a conversation before either of you could even entertain the idea of. 

All it took was one firm push and his tip was breaching you, making you groan in slight discomfort and pleasure. You were both watching the way Jungkook pushed more of his cock into you; halfway in, only to pull back almost all the way out. His cock came out covered in your slick each time it came out and every time it went in, the idol pushed it in a little further. 

“This okay?” he asked you with choppy breaths, feeling too good to stop now. 

“More than okay,” you confirmed with the sweet little moans he was becoming obsessed with. “Never been this full…” 

“Good.” Jungkook wiped his forehead with his arm, starting to feel sweat threatening to drip, already noticing the glistening layer making his chest and stomach shine under the ever changing lights of the galaxy projector. “Never gonna be full like this again.” 

“Gonna ruin me for everyone else?” you moaned, clenching around him as he bottomed out at once. “Fuck–!”

His lips were on your ear as he pulled his hips back once more, before shoving it all the way back in. “Is it working?” 

“All too well.” your hands found his chest as you squeezed his pecs, almost like he’d done to your tits earlier. You used his own sweat to rub and roll his nipples and Jungkook might as well lose his fucking mind tonight. 

Regret was a word constantly bouncing around in his head as he’d been too stubborn to meet you earlier, he could’ve been doing this with you for a lot longer if he had. Jungkook would absolutely beat himself up for his horrible decisions and introverted traits later. 

“Jungkook.” you complained with half a pout, as he felt so good he’d started zoning out. “We can cockwarm later, right now I need you to fuck me.” 

“Fuck.” he was malfunctioning a little with your offer, with your promise of later, body toppling over yours, chest pressing against chest. “I got you, baby.” 

“You better.” you gasped as Jungkook started a steady pace. “Been wanting you too long.” 

Jungkook’s mouth met yours briefly in a quick kiss to parch his thirst for your lips before aiming them elsewhere. His exhaustion from a busy schedule had nothing on his stamina from practicing and performing hard hitting choreographies in the daily, making it quite easy for him to start pounding you into the couch. 

Your body was almost bouncing underneath him as he upped his pace whenever you became louder and needier, clawing at his biceps to hold on. Your tits were moving with the rest of you, so enticing he had to kiss his way down to your chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. 

You arched your back and pushed your chest into his face, encouraging him to suck and lick around your swollen bud by scratching your nails against his scalp. You were already squeezing around him stupidly hard, milking his cock as he fucked you with all his pent-up frustration from missing out on you for so long, annoyance about his future and the fact he’d be gone soon. 

Jungkook wasn’t trying to take it out on you, but at least you seemed to like how rough he was being. 

“I’m gonna–” 

“I know, baby, I know.” he shushed you, bringing his face at level with yours, noses bumping as he changed pace to a slower one that hit deeper and more angled, watching your eyes water and your lips part. “I am, too.” 

“Cum inside…” you whined, gaze hazy, making Jungkook wonder if you were picturing the same thing as him, wanting the same. “Fill me up.” 

“Yeah, I will.” 

Jungkook was nodding as you did the same, wrapping your legs around his hips to make his speed even slower, but the rolling of his hips were more controlled. You were holding him by the neck, fingers gently squeezing absentmindedly. Your eyes were locked onto each others’ as you shared the wistful moment, only closing every now and then when one or the other leaned in for a kiss. 

After a couple longer strokes, Jungkook pushed all the way into you, pelvis pressing against your clit and tipping you over the edge for a second time. You cried his name, this time with real tears escaping from the corner of your eyes, arms around his neck as you came around his cock. 

His own orgasm was right behind yours, deep moans and praises mumbled against your lips as you licked his with sloppy and wet flicks of your tongue. Jungkook spilled his release inside the condom, but he pictured his sticky sperm filling up your walls instead, forehead pressed against yours as he fantasized about the mess he wanted to make of you. 

The two of you were quiet as you recovered from the mutual orgasm, Jungkook’s arms caged you in and you received him into your chest with a level of affection he’d never gotten from his past hookups and one night stands; enough for his tired, blissed out brain to believe that you wouldn’t be just a one time fling. 

“Jungkook?” you called him softly, and he only hummed against the side of your boob to let you know he was listening, despite his closed eyes. “How many days do you still have left?” 

His head lifted from your chest, furrowed brows as he did quick math in his head. And then he smiled, confusing the shit out of you before answering: “Seven.” 

Want more of this story? Catch parts 2 and three at my membership!

Part 2 - OUT NOW. Check the teaser below:

“I was thinking… And you can say no.” you started quietly after what sounded like a tiny sip. 

“We both know I’ll say yes.” he chuckled. 

“Hear me out first.” you had that smile on your face, Jungkook didn’t need to see it to know. “So I’ve been researching, and apparently people can send letters and care packages to the soldiers and trainees?” 

“Uh huh.” was all Jungkook managed to say through the beaming grin that formed in his lips, guessing where this was heading to. 

“So I was wondering… If I could do that?”

“You want to write me letters, baby?” you might as well be able to hear his heart from how fast it was beating in his chest. 

Your breathing also got heavier by the lowered tone of his voice. 

“Yeah… I know we can call when you have your phone, and letters would take a while longer with the back and forth but–” you went on a tangent, stopping short as if thinking about what you were asking for. “God, it’s silly, isn’t it? I’m sorry, it’s not like we’re in the fifties and you’re at war.” 

“I would love to get letters from you.”

“Really?” 

Jungkook nodded to himself. “I have two addresses, but the one listed on the official military website is for the public.” the one ARMY used to write him letters so they could still feel close to the idol, but those would always take a while longer, if they ever even reached him at all. “I’ll give you my personal address, okay? That one comes straight to me and doesn’t have to go through the company.”

“Okay!” you chirped, clearly excited as you thought out loud: “Oh my god, I need to stock up on envelopes.” 

“You’re so cute, did you know that?”

You were huffing, voice a little muffled as you whined: “Stop, you know you can’t just compliment me like this.”

If Jungkook had only met you once, if his only experience with you had been that fateful night when you, Mingyu and Eunwoo showed up at his doorstep after a night out, he’d really have the wrong picture of you. At least it would be painfully incomplete. That night you were confident and open, forward with your advances. 

When in reality, you were… Adorable. Yes, you were still sexy and you held yourself in a light that showed you were comfortable in your own skin. But you were also shy when too much attention was on you and you could not handle compliments when you weren’t expecting them. 

“God, I miss your face.” Jungkook groaned, staring at the speckled ceiling of the small room. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen it in over a month.”

“You’re going to forget what I look like, by the time you’re out, won’t you?” you laughed, but it wasn’t completely sincere. “I could print out a picture and send it to you? In one of the letters.”

That had Jungkook laughing a full belly giggle, which obviously confused you greatly as you followed up:

“Hey, why was that funny?”

“It’s not you, it just made me think about something I heard today.” Jungkook was shaking his head, switching ears as his phone started to feel a little hot. He could hear the pout in your voice and desperately wanted to kiss it. “Some younger trainees were complaining that we can’t look up porn while we’re here, so–”

“Oh my god, I didn't mean that kind of picture!” you fake gaped with a pretty laugh. “And, wait, you really can’t watch porn?” 

“Our phones are monitored.” Jungkook told you, rolling his eyes at the lack of freedom he had to deal with for the next two years. “We can make calls and no one is listening to us right now. But trainees can’t take videos or pictures, and we can’t receive them either. Porn, and I guess, adult magazines, are in the list of forbidden items.” 

“Oh. So if I did want to send you a nude polaroid, you’d get in trouble?” 

Jungkook groaned, air leaving his lungs as he thought of what kind of nude pictures you’d take for him. “Baby, don’t put that image in my head.”

“I would send them.” you continued, a little quieter. “If you wanted me to.”

“You have no idea how much I want you to.” want was an understatement. He missed you in more ways than sexual, but… The image of you writhing underneath him, the feeling of you squeezing around his cock, your mouth– “Yeah, you can’t. If I got caught with it, they might take my privileges.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t.” you agreed as he tried to regulate his breathing. “But how do you, uh…” 

Jungkook’s brain might be working a little slower right now, but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted to know. So he told you: “I haven’t.”

“Not once?”

“I’m hardly ever alone.” his laugh was painful and he felt shamelessly sorry for himself.

“What about the showers?”

“They are locker room style, so no stalls. No privacy.”

“Damn, I’m so sorry.” he believed you. “Now I feel bad.”