The Night Before

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/42704934.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Relationship: Soo-Won (Akatsuki no Yona)/Reader
Character: Soo-Won (Akatsuki no Yona)
Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, Oneshot, Tension, Unresolved Tension, Sexual Tension,
Kissing, Rough Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Neck Kissing, Hair-pulling,
Long Hair
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2022-10-29 Words: 1,235 Chapters: 1/1
 The Night Before
by Yoyogospin

Summary

Soo-Won told you to meet him tonight, and you fear this will be the last of your late night
meetings.

Notes

Just something quick :/

The room is only lit by a single candle between the two of you, the darkness of the night
encompassing the rest. This isn't the first time you've had a meeting like this, but tonight you
feel it will be your last. In your left hand you hold a cup of tea, the steam still rising to warm
your face.

Soo-Won left his cup empty this time, you can't help but dread its meaning. Its one of the
many ways high society talks. Should the tea grow cold whilst you talk, then its safe to say
the time was enjoyable. Should one finish a cup long before the other, then the conversation
was deplorable.

A singular empty cup meant business: the tea was only a formality for the quest, the host had
more important things to talk about that couldn't be interrupted by a cup of tea.

And you had an idea what this business Soo-Won had for you was.

You peer down into the cup, taking in the tea's scent. Its soft and delicate. It wasn't floral to
your knowledge, so perhaps it was herbal? Something to soothe you, you think.

Bringing the cup up to your lips, you take a small sip of the no doubt expensive liquid. It's
rather bland, not something you'd serve to guests with the intention of having them drink it.
Still, you continue to hold the cup in your hand as you brought your gaze up to meet Soo-
Won's.

"You went through so much preparation Lord Soo-Won." He made you tea with the intention
that you put it down and focus on him. Still you hold the cup. "What is the occasion?"

"I plan on killing King Il."

How you wish you didn't hear those words come out of his mouth. But you knew they would
come from his lips eventually. You take another sip of the tea. "How blunt. I could turn you
into the imperial guard for the treason I just heard."

"But you won't." He asserts, staring you down. The weight of his eyes on yours are heavy, but
you don't shy away from it. "Will you?"

"No. I'd like to keep my tongue and head attached to my body." You take another sip of the
tea with a half-hearted laugh. Soo-Won's eyes narrow at the sight of the cup on your lips.

Again, its the language of high society. You were denying his advances, but the both of you
knew it would amount to nothing. Both of you knew, you'd have to put the cup down soon
and accept what was happening.

"Perhaps I should've brought you wine instead?"

You sigh and place the cup down on the table. Sharing wine is a sign of commardary. You
wish Soo-Won would leave you at least a small piece of your dignity. But maybe you should
be the one to throw it away. "I would've preferred the taste of that compared to this tea."
"So you don't oppose my plan?" He leans in closer towards you, closer to the light of the
candle. You can see him in full detail.

His hair, which was usually tied over his shoulder was left loose. It only made sense that it
was, both of you were dressed in your nightwear. It was night after all, it would appear weird
if anyone saw you in anything else should you be seen.

Soo-Won let his top hang open as he he leaned over, and you can see a small bit of his chest
peak out from beneath the fabric. Despite that, you keep your eyes focused on his half-lidded
ones, that ocean blue holding so much passion behind it.

To think its vision will be filled with blood leaves you feeling something you can't describe.

"I never have, Soo-Won. Never."

He huffs. "Yet you still care for the man."

"He has a strong will, admirable. He holds my respect for that much."

"But that respect isn't enough for you to stop me from killing him in cold blood." He brings a
hand up and brushes it against the skin of your cheek, pulling you in closer to his face.

He's close enough that you can feel the warmth in his breath, close enough that you feel like
he can see every thought behind your eyes. Close enough that you hope he can see that you
won't falter at his little test.

You bring a hand up to rake through his hair, admiring how the blonde looks threaded
between your fingers.

It's such a pretty color even in this dim candle light, you think, it suits him perfectly.

Your hand travels to grasp at the hair near the base of his neck, and your pull, pull until the
tips of your noses brush against each other, pull until your but a hair's width apart from one
another. You grin when you see how his eyes take a quick glance at your lips.

"You aren't wrong." You whisper. "I'd rather see you as king, Soo-Won."

"And what of you?" He whispers back quieter.

You shrug, letting go of his hair and bringing your hand back down to your side. You don't
miss the way he stops himself from chasing after your touch. "I dunno. Should you kill King
Il, Yona will take the throne as first in line. You'd have to marry her if you want to be king,
though I don't think that's much of an issue."

"Oh?" He questions, a bit confused. "How so?"

You hold back your laughter. A usurper he may be, Soo-Won was still naïve in the eyes of
love. Though, if the way he's avoiding looking down your shirt says anything, he may not be
so ignorant in the face of lust.
The tension leaves your body and you find yourself eyeing the blond again. He's always been
considerate of others, kind and thoughtful of every situation.

To think he would stain his hands with the blood of King Il, the red doesn't fit him all that
well.

"It doesn't matter, " He eyes you as he leans in closer, trying to see if you pull back from what
he was about to do. When he sees you still, unmoving, waiting for him to make the move, he
presses a light kiss to your lips.

And then another, and another, till the weight of his lips against yours has him pushing you
down until your back is against the floor, his body barely hovering over yours. His kisses are
longer, more passionate, and you can tell he doesn't want to stop. But he has to before he goes
to far, before you take him as your own.

But you don't stop, kissing down his jaw and relishing in the was he shudders when your lips
meet the skin of his neck. How badly does he want you to be rougher, to kiss more at his
skin, to pull at his hair again, to bite at his neck and make him yours, to feel your hands on
his body, to have your nails rake down his back, to have you moaning his name-

He pulls back from you even more than before, face a little flushed and panting as if he had
run along the training grounds. He has to stop now, or he'll really go all the way with you this
time.

"I will make you my queen."

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