shookyungsoo

[shookyungsoo]

I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight. 

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours. 

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this. 

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.  

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.” 

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you. 

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes.  “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath. 

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.” 

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one. 

“The tracking…I knew of it.” 

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

 "Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you. 

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side. 

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed.  "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress."  The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it. 

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier. 

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. 

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her." 

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.  

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.” 

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you.  “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more. 

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?” 

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his. 

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions. 

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play. 

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate. 

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

[shookyungsoo]

Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

[shookyungsoo]

Beautiful Stranger | Azriel

Azriel x Reader | Azriel gets injured while on a mission and meets someone he never thought he would. aka you finding an injured Az and the mating bond snapping.

warnings: mentions injuries and blood; other than that, this is light & fluff

word count: 4,342

a/n: I love Halsey's Finally//Beautiful Stranger & when it came on my shuffle while driving, this fic played out in my mind.

Humming quietly to yourself to keep your thoughts occupied, you allow the glow of the moon and fireflies to guide you back to the village. Dawn Court was your home, but after the fall of Spring, you had volunteered to help its fae, creatures, and land heal from the devastation left by Hybern’s attacks.

Though the damage to Spring was immense, its beauty still endured. The air still held a lingering heaviness but the flowers had begun to bloom once more with promise and hope of a better future. Your task today had been to gather healing herbs, yet when you stumbled upon a field of dandelions in full bloom, you couldn’t resist the urge to stop and admire the scenery. It was why you were returning late at night, long past the sunset you had promised to return by.

As you made your way along the path, the gentle breeze grew colder and sharper. It rustled the leaves on the trees and made the branches creak, its eerie sound halting your steps and silencing your humming. A chill of unease prickled your skin and your muscles tensed in alarm. 

Then you saw them. 

Shadows, darker than the night itself, swirling around you.

These were not the shadows you were used to seeing at night. No, these shadows felt alive and with purpose. 

You should’ve turned back. But there was something in the way they moved, fluid and insistent, that made you follow. With every step, they guided you away from the familiar moonlit path and deeper into the forest, pulling you toward the river that ran through the heart of the woods.

A flicker of blue light was coming from just beyond the tree line, catching your eye. Curiosity tugged at you, drawing you closer. The shadows slithered toward the faint glow, vanishing into the darkness by the water’s edge.

When you finally reached the riverbank, your breath hitched at the sight before you.

A male lay sprawled on the shore, half-submerged in the water, his blood mingling with the river’s water. Blinking your eyes, you saw the shadows that led you to him, clinging to his battered form and limp wings. They pulsed in a protective manner. It’s then that you recognized the source of the blue light. It was coming from the gems attached to the leathers he wore. 

Siphons. He must be Illyrian…but what was an Illyrian from the Night Court doing in Spring? Alone?

It didn’t matter. You immediately rushed and knelt beside him, your healer’s instincts snapping into action. Your finger’s pressed against his neck, mind racing with worry and dread as his skin felt cold against yours. He must’ve been out for awhile now. The nerves eased slightly when you felt a pulse. 

Weak but present. 

You slipped your arms beneath him, the shadows aiding you as they wrapped around his arms, helping you turn him over to his side. His dark hair clung to his face, your hand reaching up to brush it back.

Your eyes finally met the face of the fallen warrior and something snapped. 

So piercing and electrifying, it had your heart fluttering from the intensity. All at once, the golden threads of the bond you’d only heard stories about unraveled in your chest. They weaved between your rib cage, pulling you tight toward him. A pull so strong it left you breathless and in shock.

Fate and shadows had brought him to you. Your mate.

But the exhilaration of it all was soon smothered by panic, the golden threads beginning to quiver. His blood, too much of it, stained the riverbank. His body was limp in your arms, his breathing shallow.

You had found your mate and already, you were on the verge of losing him before you could even learn his name.

**

Azriel wakes to the sound of singing, a nice and sweet sound, and he catches faintly to the words. He’s never felt so warm, so relaxed. His senses are dulled by grogginess, his body sluggish, but something feels… different. Lighter, somehow. 

Beside him, his shadows stir, the familiar weight of their presence grounding him. But there's also something else— different from the cool and light caresses of his shadows. Firmer. Warmer. The pressure is foreign but comforting.

As his senses slowly return, the scent of herbs and incense reach him before his eyes flutter open. Where am I? He thinks, finally blinking his eyes to clear his vision.

The first thing he sees is you, the source of the beautiful singing.

Light streams into the room, casting a golden halo around you. It strikes him hard, stealing his breath and sending a shock through his chest. He doesn’t know who you are, what you are. But you’re beautiful, so beautiful that his brows furrow in bewildered awe. There’s no way, he thinks. I don’t belong here…

He wills his dry lips to part, his voice is rough and barely audible. “Am I…dead?”

Your eyes widen and your singing comes to a sudden stop, startled by his sudden words. The warmth he felt vanishes as you pull your hand back, and only then does he realize it had been your touch on his face earlier. Your hand hovers between you, glowing faintly with a bronze light, like the first rays of dawn, before you settle it into your lap.

“No,” you finally answer. “You’re not dead.”

Azriel tears his gaze from your face, even though some part of him protests. His eyes wander around the small room, taking in the sparse furniture, the wooden desk cluttered with jars and vials. The sunlight continues to stream through the single window, the curtain hanging doing little to dull the brightness thanks to the Spring breeze. It blinds him when it catches his eyes and he winces, looking away. 

His attention is inevitably drawn back to you. You’re seated beside him, perched on a small stool that does not look comfortable by the bed. His shadows, the loyal dark tendrils that always remain by his side, are dancing around you. Their movement is playful, loving almost and you don’t seem bothered by it. As if they’ve done this before. 

The sight stirs an unfamiliar flutter in his chest.

The flutter is cut short when one of his wings, too big for the bed he’s in, twitches and knocks into the bedside table. A vial tumbles to the floor, the sound of shattering glass jerking his body forward, and in an instant, the memories come rushing back.

He remembers the mission. Rhysand had sent him to the wall separating the mortal lands from Prythian. He had met with Jurian, the encounter brief, and then he was on his way back—flying over the Spring Court when he was ambushed. His mind aches as he tries to remember more but all he remembers is being struck by poisoned arrows and falling through trees. Multiple trees.

Hot, searing pain stabs through him at the sudden movement and your hands fly to his bandaged chest, gently urging him to sit back. “You’re safe,” you reassure him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Azriel shouldn’t feel comforted by your words, not when he barely knows you. However, he finds your voice soothing. He listens, allowing himself to slowly lean back against the pillows, despite his mind screaming at him that you’re a stranger. Your hands remain on his chest, glowing again with that soft bronze light, and the sharp pain in his body begins to ebb away, fading into a dull ache. Much more bearable.

His shadows return to him, sighing with relief as they nestle close. Azriel watches you, keen hazel eyes taking in more of your features. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes. They draw him in, and he finds himself unable to look away. Had it not been for the pain that shot through him moments ago, he would’ve thought you lied to him about not being dead. Because surely you weren’t from this world to have him in a daze like this…

“Who are you?”

“I’m…,” you hesitate, uncertainty crossing your features. He watches with bated breath, waiting but the words seem to catch in your throat. You swallow, clearing your throat before speaking again. “I’m just a healer.”

“And here I thought you were an angel from above.”

A quiet laugh escapes you, and the tension in your posture melts away. The corner of your lips tug up into a faint smile, one that Azriel surprisingly finds himself mirroring. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He doesn’t think. The words spill from him before he can stop them. “I didn’t say I was disappointed.”

The flush that dawns across your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed. You turn your head, trying to hide the reaction. It’s too late. Azriel already saw it and even if he hadn’t, his shadows are happily gushing over it. Some, the ones not distracted by your beauty, curled around his ear and whispered about the emotion lingering on your face, in your eyes.

There was more you meant to say. Words left unsaid and he wants to know, the curiosity and yearning bordering on desperate. His gaze assesses you again, searching for an answer. For a hint. His shadows continue to whisper. Good, they say reassuringly, sensing no danger or malintent in you. We found her for you!

She saved master's life. Master was out for three days and she stayed by master’s side. She’s–

“What’s your name?” You ask, pulling him from the silent conversation with his shadows.

Azriel is not one to give his name so easily, often going by what he was–a Shadowsinger– rather than who he was. He’s also not one to dwell in places he’s unfamiliar with longer than necessary. But you saved his life and for some strange reason, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you. They seem to trust you and therefore, so does he.

“Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeat and his shadows shudder in response, as though they, too, are captivated by the sound of it on your lips. His stomach flutters in time with their movement.

“What about yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he says, repeating your name the same way you had his. His shadows dance in the air around you both.

**

It’s late morning, as you pick up the empty plate from him, that he feels the familiar sensation of talons scraping against his mind. Azriel?? Rhysand’s voice is urgent, the frantic panic of it making him wince. Your head immediately turns in concern and Azriel brushes it off with a small shake of his head.

I’m alive. Azriel responds, his answer curt as he’s once again distracted by your presence.

Thank The Mother, Rhysand breathes a sigh of relief. Where are you? Are you somewhere safe? Do you need me to–

I’m fine. I was attacked while flying through Spring. 

Who? Rhysand demands.

Given the fact that whoever ambushed me has made no move to find me and finish the job, I’d say no one of importance. Azriel replies, lips curving into a small frown at the thought of being caught off guard and attacked. It rarely happened, his shadows always keeping him one step ahead of anyone and anything. Had they been distracted…?

He turns his head, searching for the shadows in question. Some remained with him, choosing to burrow under the blankets. The others, however, were hovering at your side and helping you clean up from breakfast. One even opens the door for you and he hears you murmur a small thanks as you leave the room.

Azriel had spent most of the afternoon sleeping. He didn’t want to, not liking the idea of being in such a vulnerable state with someone he barely knew. It’s not that he suspected you’d harm him or had bad intentions–you literally saved his life for Cauldron’s sake! It was just a feeling he was not used to. To be able to sleep safe and sound.

When he woke up again, it was a brand new day. He realized the bandages on his chest and arm had been changed. He was slowly gathering his strength back. One of his shadows must’ve given him away because shortly after he woke, you had walked in with a friend. 

“Wow,” the dark haired fae murmured, her steps faltering. Her eyes had widened in wonder, taking in the large expanse of his wings that made the bed look ridiculously small. “The Cauldron truly favors you.”

Azriel’s gaze couldn’t help but narrow. Those words had been directed at you, not him. 

You’d introduced her as Poppy, explaining she was your friend, another healer whose family had taken you in. Poppy had left shortly after setting a steaming bowl of stew on the table right next to the bed. She had been adamant on letting him know her mother had made it and not you, which he found odd.

Azriel was surprised to learn this was your room and you’d given it up for him. He tried to protest, offering to sleep on the couch or floor. Of course, you had refused and he was even more surprised to learn you were more stubborn than he was. 

Where are you in Spring? Rhysand’s presence in his mind pulls him back to the present. He hopes he hadn’t accidentally projected his memory to his friend, wanting to keep it to himself for now. I can send Cassian, if you’re unable to fly. 

No. Azriel responds immediately and he can feel Rhysand’s confusion. I’m alive and safe. I just need more time to recover. 

And without waiting for a response, Azriel brings up his mental shields again, shutting Rhysand out. He can only hope he doesn’t send Feyre knocking on his mind next. Or worse, actually send Cassian to Spring, despite him saying not to.

He should’ve said yes, and accepted the help. The Spring Court was among the least favorite of his courts, in tie with the Autumn Court. He had a strong distaste for the High Lord, who remained wandering through his forests like a beast. 

As you return to the room, Azriel catches sight of a faint glow wrapped around your wrist. He hadn’t seen it before, the glow of your magic outshining the gold ink etched there. A sun, cradled by a crescent moon, and below the moon, a fine lined star glimmers, connecting the two celestial bodies with its ray of starshine. 

“You’re far from home.” Azriel comments, nodding toward the tattoo.

“So are you,” you answer, lips turning up at the slight flush that takes over Azriel. You then glance down at the tattoo on your wrist. The insignia of your Court with the added touch of your healing gift. The tattoo was an honor, a testimony of the oath you had taken after mastering your magic. “I came to Spring to help after the war.”

“Will you go back home after?” He asks, a little too quickly, then clears his throat. His shadows snicker beside him in a knowing manner. “Or will you stay here?”

“I’ll stay here as long as I’m needed.”

He doesn’t understand why but a part of him feels relieved that you’re not attached to this court. 

“You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need,” you then add. 

He feels an odd sense of relief, and his shadows give a little wiggle in excitement. He sends them a glare, and they sheepishly return to hiding under the covers. Though one brave shadow lingers by his side long enough to whisper, you'll find out soon Master.

“They’re cute," your voice pulls him from questioning his teasing shadow.

Azriel lets out a snort, the effort making his chest and stomach ache. Cute. His shadows had been called many things—strange, unnerving, even unsettling—but never cute. They typically clung to him, weaving around his form quietly, careful not to disturb anyone. Unless he sent them on a mission of their own or they had a mission of their own.

Occasionally, they’d make an exception for Cassian, creeping up behind him just to tap his shoulder and bask in his exasperation when he turned to find nothing there. They’d even tried their luck with Rhysand once, though he was never fooled. Yet, for reasons Azriel couldn’t fathom, his shadows had taken an immediate liking to you, drifting toward you whenever they could.

The said shadows peek out from under the covers, almost shyly. If they could blush, he’s sure they would be at this moment. They're never going to forget this moment.

“I wouldn’t call them cute,” Azriel replies, ignoring their indignant hisses.

Conversation flows easily between you two from there, Azriel giving into his curiosity to know and learn more about you. Much to his surprise, Azriel indulged you in your questions, telling you about his shadows and things about himself he rarely told others. They were small, trivial things such as his exact favorite shade of blue and his biggest pet peeve. Yet you held onto every word, every detail and it felt strangely comforting.

Two more days passed, Azriel’s body still healing. Slowly but surely. You had been able to recover one of the arrows that had shot him. Not that it mattered. Azriel was now, unfortunately, familiar with the effects of faebane. It hindered his healing and though it was frustrating, there was one upside to it all–the friendship blossoming between you and Azriel.

There’s a knock on the door as you mix Azriel’s concoction for pain. “Yes?” You call out.

Poppy peeks her head in. “I was just checking to see if I had given you enough spearmint for the pain tonic and also to let you know that we’ll be out most of the day. If you wanted to take out your ma—male for a walk or something without being bothered by the little ones.”

You freeze and a sheepish look takes over your features, tainting your cheeks. “Poppy,” you say her name again in what sounds like a warning. “He has a name, you know. And he doesn’t need to be taken on a walk.”

“Oh, right, Azriel,” she says, giving him a cheery wave. “Hello again!”

“Hello,” Azriel replies, shifting in the bed, despite the protests of his muscles. He’s not at all offended by Poppy, her aura too bright and cheery to be bothered. He flashes you a grin that has your grasp on the mixer faltering. “I think a walk would be nice actually.”

“Told you!” Poppy replies. “Anyway, we’ll see you for dinner. Send a butterfly if you need me.”

When the door closes, you let out a small sigh, shaking your head with a small, sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry about her.”

Azriel brushes off your concern, his eyes shining bright when he looks back at you. “How about that walk?”

**

Azriel grunts as he pushes to stand, his wings trembling as he shifts his weight, unused to bearing himself after days of bedrest. He stumbles right into your arms, his usually steady form swaying. You quickly catch him, your arms coming around one of his sides. His shadows dart toward his other side, helping you hold him upright. 

“I’ve got you,” you say softly, your hold surprisingly firm. 

He can't help it. He lets out a low, amused breath. 

“What?” You ask.

“Usually, I’m the one saying that.”

Your lips quirk into a smile, a gleam in your eye, as you help him find his balance. “Well, even the best need someone to lean on sometimes, right?”

Azriel stares at you. Something in his chest tightens–a weird but comforting sensation. It’s similar, if not the same, to what he had felt when he first saw you. Warm and painfully sweet. The feeling reassures him that, though you were strangers mere days ago, you’re someone he can lean on.

“Come on,” you murmur, nodding toward the door. 

Azriel lets you guide him through the house and out onto the porch. You settle there together, cutting the walk very short. You're mindful not to push him too far when he's still recovering. Azriel doesn't mind, the fresh air enough for him. He knows he isn’t at full strength to protect you should anything arise. Even though you most likely know these forests better than himself.

His hands drift to the porch railing as he leans forward for support, fingers curling around the edge. The sunlight glances off his scarred hands, each ridge and mark stark against his skin. He’d kept them hidden beneath the covers and out of your view while bedridden, hiding them instinctively, unable to forget the pitying glances they’d drawn in the past. Though he’s sure you must've seen them when you rescued him.

Now, as he feels your gaze slide toward them, a familiar discomfort tugs at him. He starts to withdraw his hands, wanting to tuck them closer to himself.

But you reach out. Your hand hovers, brushing slightly over his. There’s a slight hesitation—an uncertainty in whether to bridge the space or leave it. In the end, you let your hand rest gently beside his.

Azriel hesitates, unused to this vulnerability, yet unable to move away. He glances up to meet your eyes and his guarded expression softens slightly. “They’re… not easy to look at,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know they’re not.”

“I’m familiar with scars, you know. They don’t make you less of who you are.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens, his gaze dropping where your hands are barely brushing against one another. His throat feels tight, an ache he’s kept buried resurfacing.

“Not to me,” you continue. “I don’t see you any differently because of them.” 

He searches your face and he sees something in your eyes that helps him slowly relax. His gaze returns to your hand, fingers hovering now over his. This time, there’s no hesitation as you gently lay your hand over his, holding it as if the scars didn’t exist at all.

It’s such a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes. 

His shadows slither down his arm and toward where your hands connect. For the first time, Azriel feels no urge to hide, no shame from the past that has long haunted him.

A silence drifts down between the two of you, settling like a blanket over the conversation. There’s no need to fill it, no awkwardness there. Just a gentle, shared peace, stretching softly around you both. He turns his head, shifting his gaze forward and takes a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and a breeze rolls in, brushing against his skin and stirring his hair. His shadows begin to whisper excitedly. He basks in the sun’s warmth, and lets the scent of spring fill his senses from the fresh earth to the blooming flowers and the faint sweetness of pollen. It brings forth a tickle in his nose, and before he can stop it, he sneezes. His body groans in response, wings shuddering.

“Bless you,” you say, but he notices the way your mouth quirks as if you’re holding back a laugh.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle, your free hand rising to stifle it. “It’s just… you have such a fatherly sneeze.”

Azriel raises an eyebrow, a rare, amused smile creeping onto his face. “Fatherly sneeze?” He echoes. He has never heard the expression before yet he somehow understands it. If you thought his sneeze was “fatherly,” he’s curious to see your reaction to one of Cassian’s sneezes. That thought is enough to make him laugh outright.

It's so silly but the sound is so contagious that you laugh too. His shadows began to flutter around you, as if joining in on the laughter. Azriel’s gaze then drifts down, watching the way your lips curve in laughter, how your eyes crinkle at the corners, how effortlessly you draw light into his heart.

And there it is again—that rush of warmth. It’s mixed in with joy, so pure and intense it has to be coming from you. His heart stirs, his pulse quickens, his mind clears, and in a single, life-altering instant, he knows.

“You’re my mate.”

Your smile falters, replaced by a moment of hesitation. Some shadows travel to you, brushing softly against your arms as if in a reassuring manner. He can't help but watch them, realization dawning on him.

“Yeah, I am,” you admit quietly.

“How—when…” His voice catches, unable to form the words.

“I was walking through the forest when your shadows came to me. They led me to you, by the river. You were unconscious and bleeding. And then… the bond snapped for me the moment I saw your face. You were so cold and--and…,” your face tightens, eyes glistening at the memory and Azriel can feel the panic you must’ve felt then. “I’d just found what so many only dream of and you were already slipping away...I thought I’d never get to know your name…”

Azriel feels a pang deep in his chest as he absorbs every word. His chest feels tight again and he swallows thickly. “And when I woke up, why didn’t you tell me?”

Your gaze falls, fingers twisting together. “I wanted you to heal, to feel better. That’s all that mattered.”

“I owe you my life.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I would’ve saved you, mate or not.”

Azriel searches your face, touched beyond words at the sincerity in your tone. It made sense why he felt so drawn to you since the moment he saw you, why his shadows took a sudden liking to you and kept whispering "we found her, we found her!" They had known all this time, been able to sense it before he even could.

Looking back, Poppy being the one to bring him food and water and not you was not as strange as he originally thought. You were being mindful, not wanting to accidentally accept the bond without his knowledge. He felt an overwhelming gratitude for how gentle and considerate you've been with him all along. He couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten so lucky to be bound to someone like you.

“And would you have sung to me, mate or not?” Azriel asks, his mind drifting back to the exact moment he'd first woken up.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away toward the gardens, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes. “What?” You let out a small huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 “What did I hear?” Azriel’s tone borders on teasing, his expression shifting into one of exaggerated contemplation. “Something like… ‘Beautiful stranger, here you are…’”

“That’s enough!” You interrupt, your face turning into an even deeper shade of pink, caught somewhere between mortification and laughter. 

This time, it’s Azriel holding back a chuckle. His lips curl into a small smirk, seeing the blush that lights up your face. He quite likes that shade on you—likes being the one to bring it out even more. “So…”

You keep your gaze straight ahead. “So…?”

Azriel leans in, his voice low and warm, making your stomach flutter. “Do you sing that song for just anyone too?”

“No,” you let out a laugh, your hands cup your face but there’s no hiding the blush there.  “I’m afraid that song was just for you.”

“Good,” he murmurs.

You turn to look at him, realizing his gaze had never left you. Your hands drop back to the porch railing.  “Yeah?” you whisper, your own heart pounding, not sure what it was you were asking.

But Azriel seems to understand anyway. He can feel what you’re feeling, now fully aware and attentive to the bond humming between you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his smirk softening into a genuine smile, his heart finally at ease. 

A gentle warmth surges through the bond, reaching every shadowed corner of his heart and wrapping around his soul. It’s a feeling he could get used to, one he’s spent centuries longing and yearning for. It’s a feeling he’s searched for in all the wrong places, enduring the heavy weight of heartbreak after heartbreak.

But now, with you, he feels the weight begin to lift. After all the empty falls and broken promises, it’s finally, finally safe for him to fall.

a/n: you can't tell me Az & Cas don't have dad sneezes lol. Anyway, I really wanted to write a fic where Az finally feels safe with someone because he deserves to. I hope you enjoyed this <3

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444 @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

@alwayshave-faith

[shookyungsoo]

There has been a British voice in my head saying " bit sad innit" for the past week.

[shookyungsoo]

ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ✧ ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

Finding out you're a princess isn't half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can't seem to stop flirting with you. fem, princess diaries au

one two three four

[shookyungsoo]

Slipping through my fingers

a series masterlist

Being apart of the sacred 28 taught you many things in life, such as ballroom dancing, Latin, French, Spanish, Greek, fine dining, and etiquette. None of that would prepare you for falling in love with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. While your relationship blossoms, you run the risk of losing your closest friend, Regulus Black.

Warnings: There are warnings at the beginning of every part, but just in general; angst, cliffhanger, inner demons, self loathing, friendship rifts, bruises and blood (full moon).

Characters:

Poly wolfstar x female reader Platonic Regulus Black x female reader Mother hen/matchmaker James Potter Friends Pandora, Barty and Evan

Reader:

Y/N, she/her pronouns, mentioned to be apart of the sacred 28, Slytherin, no physical features mentioned besides occasional descriptions of clothing.

Main series length: 15.7k

1: Chocolate and wet dog fur – in which you smell Remus’ and Sirius’s scents while learning about Amortentia with Professor Slughorn.

2: Ever since Potions class… - in which Sirius and Remus come to terms with their feelings for you with James Potter’s help.

 3: Just maybe – in which Remus, Sirius and you agree to a polyamorous relationship, but it causes a rift in your long-term friendship with Regulus.

 4: Broken promises – in which a flashback reveals the depths of your and Regulus connection causing you to talk it over. After an excruciating weekend at home, you return to Hogwarts to find Remus in the hospital wing.

5. Home - in which Remus reveals his secret to you, causing both Sirius and you to reassure him of your love for him.

Blurbs, one shots, and spinoff to come soon!!

Taglist:

@maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq @1-800-wh0re4reid @liviessun @ae3ther @de-duchess @wolf-phoenix-lover @i-am-grells-pretty-boy @thewitchesofart

Let me know if you’d like to be added!

AN: This was not meant to turn into a series but I can’t help myself.

[shookyungsoo]

PART 2 PLSSSSSSSSSSS

I need the comfort

ok ok ok ok ok mother's here - I've fixed it for you. Don't say I never did anything for ya 😉

part two of Mistake: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: angst, hurt and COMFORT read part one here

Remus felt like he’d just been slapped. In fact, he was sure that if he looked in a mirror, he would see a red welt in the shape of your hand across his cheek. 

Lupin?

You haven’t called him that since...well since you started dating. As a matter of fact, he can’t remember the last time you referred to him in any way other than some sickly-sweet pet name that he pretended embarrassed him, but he secretly preened at. 

I’ll see you around.

What the hell did that mean? What just happened?

He felt stuck...perhaps he should go after you? But you told him to go check on Sirius: make sure he’s okay for me, yeah? And he meant what he had said – the three of you would be back to normal in no time. They’d catch up with you tomorrow.

Remus tried to replay every interaction you had tonight. You had asked how their days were...he replied and asked how yours was. Should he have asked you first?

He should have asked you first.

You tried making conversation, but Remus was so hyper focused on Sirius’ mood – afraid that he’d do or say something out of pocket that would hurt your feelings – that each attempt sort of fell flat. Remus had been there before – he’s witnessed Sirius’ tendency to self-sabotage and ruin a good thing once he finally has it, and he didn’t want that to happen again. Not with you.

He knew what Sirius really needed was some quiet; a chance to ponder and lament angrily inside his own head without outside influence.

Maybe they should have cancelled – rescheduled your study date for another time. Clearly his effort to protect you from any negativity was in vain.  

But it was just a bad day, a blip, a one-off. You would all get some good sleep tonight and reconvene tomorrow.

Right?

Maybe he should have followed you.

But by the time he could manage to pry his feet from the floor of the library that he felt cemented to, you were gone. 

He would just have to talk it out with you tomorrow.

Remus entered his dorm to find Peter already asleep on his bed, James finishing the Transfiguration essay that was due tomorrow morning on his own bed, and both Remus and Sirius’ beds empty. 

“Pads around?” Remus asked James quietly as he began to shuck off his uniform. The quiet tone was mostly for courtesy’s sake knowing Peter could sleep through a stampede of hippogriffs.

James peered at Remus from above his glasses before nodding his head towards the bathroom door.

Sure enough, Remus found Sirius leaning against the shower stall with his eyes closed as the water cascaded around his form. 

“You almost done, love?” Remus asked gently. Sirius spooked slightly as he turned to look at Remus; his eyes were red and glossy...he had been crying.

“You didn’t stay with her?”

Remus fought the urge to grimace, to heave, to turn around and run. He opted to gently shake his head. “No, she... said she got most of what she needed to do done.”

Sirius seemed to consider that as he sighed. “Was she terribly upset? I didn’t...I didn’t mean to be an ass. I know James always says I’m quick to take it out on others – I tried really hard not to, honest. I swear it, Rem I-”

Remus began shaking his head as he moved towards Sirius. He could tell by the smell in the bathroom that Sirius had already washed his hair and there were no more suds on his body, so he turned the water off and handed Sirius a towel. 

“You were fine, Sirius. She’s – she’s fine.” He lied.

He lied. He lied to Sirius. About you.

But how could he look Sirius in the eye right now – Sirius who was currently standing naked, soaking wet, nearly hyperventilating, not over his disgusting parents but because he was afraid that he may have upset you – and tell him that between the maybe seven minutes since Sirius had left the library and now, Remus had completely mucked it all up?

The answer was: he couldn’t. He couldn’t look Sirius in the eye and admit that he may have just sabotaged your relationship.

It’s going to be fine. He tried to tell himself. We’ll fix this all tomorrow.

You felt beyond childish, hiding in your dorm room like some toddler throwing a temper tantrum. But you had decided last night that what you really needed was space. Some breathing room. A chance to see this from a different lens. A different perspective.

And you couldn’t do that when your heart was breaking. And being around Remus and Sirius felt like that right now.

It felt heart breaking. 

And perhaps that was your answer right there. If this was causing you heart ache, why were you doing it to yourself? To them? You didn’t deserve that, and neither did they.

But it wasn’t just this you were worried about. It was more than just this relationship – it was the friendship that preceded it. It was the meshing of you into their circle of friends. You were their friend long before you were ever their girlfriend. You wouldn’t just be losing Remus and Sirius: your boyfriend’s; you’d also be losing Remus and Sirius: your friend’s.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you said yes.

Suddenly, you were a little angry: they had asked you to be their girlfriend – not the other way around! Why would they put you through all of this for, what? For...

Was it really for nothing?

“Are you coming to breakfast?” Shelby asked you quietly from the door. You shifted your head on the pillow to make eye contact with her. “No, I’ve got some things to work on. I think I’ll hang out up here today.”

She seemed to consider you, eyes squinting and mouth pursing before she offered a curt nod. “I’ll bring something back for you then.”

You smiled gratefully at her. At least you knew if you did lose Remus and Sirius, you would still have friends who cared about you. 

Sirius spent most of his life believing he’d never be worthy of nice things. He was raised by monsters which meant he was a product of monsters; he was basically a monster.

He knew that the Black Darkness was always simmering just below the surface. It was archetypal of Black’s to explode; to lace their words with venom and strike at their victim, always aiming for the jugular. It had been Sirius’ own M.O. for his whole life. He had nearly lost everyone who ever meant anything to him on account of it. He had almost lost Moony.

Which is why it was so important to him that you never end up the latest victim of his Black Darkness. He was so afraid of disappointing you, letting you down, making you feel unloved. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to live with himself if he slipped – if he said something or did something to make you hate him. 

And it wasn’t just you he was worried about hurting; he knew if he hurt you, Remus would likely never forgive him.

Remus may have forgiven Sirius for his Darkness once; he didn’t want to risk trying for a second time. Sirius felt he’d hit his threshold for forgiveness – one more sin and he’d be on his own, surely.

So, he walked away. He tried to do it nicely – to excuse himself politely, assure you he’d be back in no time. 

But he still left.

It was cowardly. 

He needed to talk to you.

Which is why Sirius could be found that morning sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, knee bouncing frantically under the table and his body turned towards the entrance – waiting for you to make an appearance.

Except, you never came.

“Wait, Shelby just walked in without her. Where is she?” He asked despondently, turning towards Remus. 

Remus watched as Shelby and a few of your other friends sat at their usual places without you. “Come on.” He said quickly as the two of them stood and made their way over.

“Hey Shelby. Do you know where Y/N is?” Remus asked quietly, hoping his guilt didn’t permeate his tone. Unfortunately, under Shelby’s scrutinizing glance, he was sure he had been found out. 

“She’s in the dorm.” She said flatly, looking between the two boys. 

Sirius exchanged a glance with Remus before continuing. “Erm, do you...do you know why?” 

Shelby furrowed her brows “all she said was she had ‘some things to work on’ and that she’d be in the room today.”

Remus hissed under his breath and pulled Sirius aside.

“Pads, I’m sorry, but I think-”

“What is going on?” Sirius interrupted.

“Last night, I... I think Y/N was upset?”

“Upset? With me?” Sirius asked, shame worming its way through every cell in his body. 

“I don’t know. I... I don’t think so. But she...she said she’d ‘see me around’ and then called me Lupin.” 

All blood drained from Sirius’ face as he considered Remus’ words.

See him around...see him around!? What the hell did that mean? Did you not plan on seeing them again? Oh gods...you never planned on seeing them again.

“Rem...” Sirius breathed out, leaning against a pillar for support.

“I know, I don’t-”

“Good grief, what’s gotten into you two?” James commented as he walked into the Great Hall with Lily, who opted to carry on in her search for Regulus as James took in the state of his two friends.

“Well? What’s got you in such a twist?” He pressed when neither boy offered an explanation.

“It’s Y/N.” Remus admitted.

“She’s leaving us.” Sirius blurted.

“Okay, we don’t know that.” Remus conceded.

Sirius scoffed. “Well, she basically told you to go fuck yourself last night and now she’s avoiding us; what do you call that?”

“She didn’t tell me to go fuck myself!”

James groaned and rolled his eyes before grabbing Remus and Sirius’ shirts and dragging them over to the Slytherin table.

“That’s it. You guys need to talk to Regulus.” James muttered.

“Regulus?!” Sirius sputtered, looking at James incredulously. “I’m not asking my baby brother for relationship advice.”

“You’re not asking for relationship advice. You’re asking for his perspective on his own relationship.”

“Ew! That’s worse! I don’t want to hear about my baby brother’s relationship with my adoptive brother.” 

“Oh for- you are going to listen to Regulus’ perspective on what it’s like being added to a polyamorous relationship last.” James pressed, tone implying no nonsense. 

Sirius (unwillingly) and Remus (placidly) were dragged to the dark side (read: the Slytherin table) to be read their Miranda Rights have their asses handed to them by one Regulus Arcturus Black. 

“Reg, dear. I’m begging, pleading, on my hands and knees: put the poor sods out of their misery.” James said as he bodily sat Remus and Sirius on the bench across from Regulus.

Lily snickered and poked her nose into Regulus’ cheek, causing the youngest Black to blush, though the rest of his face remained stoic as he sized Sirius and Remus up.

“What have the two of you done now?” He drawled. “I can’t help but notice one third – arguably the better third - of your little trio is missing.”

Sirius scoffed, though he didn’t argue – Regulus wasn’t wrong per se; he loved Moony, but you were indeed the best of the bunch.

James cleared his throat pointedly as he shot Remus and Sirius a look.

“Right, er” Remus started awkwardly. “We seem to have, uhm. I mean to say that-”

“Why does Y/N hate us?” Sirius spat, slapping a hand over his mouth immediately afterwards as if those words had fallen from his mouth without his consent.

“Y/N? As in your girlfriend, Y/N?” Regulus asked, moving his eyes between his brother and his brother’s boyfriend.

“Yes, as in our girlfriend.” Remus muttered.

“What did you say to offend her?” James asked unhelpfully.

“Do you think if we knew that, we’d be here right now?” Sirius spat back. 

“No, I don’t think that.” Regulus answered for him. “What I think has probably happened is she’s feeling terribly insecure in your relationship and neither of you have done anything to help her.”

Well that shut Sirius up... Sirius noticed that Remus was pretty quiet too.

“Were...” Sirius asked, grimacing when he looked over at Lily and James knowing this was teetering slightly into the realm of things-he-doesn’t-really-want-to-know-about-his-brother’s-relationship-with-his-best-friend territory. But damnit, Sirius was as desperate man. And desperate times called for desperate measures. “Were you terribly insecure when you started dating...these two?” Sirius sneered the end of his sentence earning him a ‘hey!’ from Lily and a solid whack up the back of the head from James.

“Yes.” Regulus answered simply.

“Why?” Remus asked, looking desperately close to pulling out his notebook to take notes. Scratch that, Sirius watched as James swallowed a teasing remark when Remus actually pulled out a notebook to take notes. 

“It’s hard coming after. There’s a part of your brain that convinces you that you are second best; that you’ve somehow come in second place. If that’s not bad enough, then you begin spending time with two people who already have history, already have a connection, and already have a rhythm that doesn’t leave much room to pull you into the mix. And if it does pull you into the mix, you end up feeling terribly guilty for disrupting that rhythm. It’s all quite difficult.”

Sirius’ mouth hung open at Regulus’ demure tone on what sounded like a really heartbreaking situation. 

“Let me ask you this,” Regulus continued, unawares of Sirius’ inner dialogue (which consisted mostly of panicked ‘oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods). “How has your relationship – between the two of you – changed since you added a third?”

Remus and Sirius exchanged a glance before looking back at Regulus. “Uhm...not, really?”

“Not much at all.” Remus admitted more clearly.

“I see...” Regulus said, narrowing his gaze. “And how much time have each of you spent with her individually without the other present?”

Regulus got his answer in the form of awkward silence. 

“How did either of you expect your relationship to work if neither of you were willing to change the nature of yours in order to help it grow?” Regulus spat. 

“Well...” Remus started, but his sentence died when he realized there was nothing to say. 

“But...you stayed? Why?” Sirius asked his brother.

At this, Regulus’s face fell as he gave Sirius a sad smile. “Because of how we were raised, Sirius. I was so excited to be wanted, even for a moment, that I was willing to beg for scraps of whatever I could sink my claws into. She doesn’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

James and Lily looked forlorn as the latter placed her hand on Regulus’ shoulder consolingly. 

“It didn’t hurt to have the walking definition of unconditional love and the smartest, most intuitive witch I know to notice any discontent on my part.” He admitted shyly, earning him a smack of a kiss on the cheek from James.

“Gross. You guys are sickening.” Sirius muttered petulantly.

“So?” Lily interrupted what was close to becoming a squabble between the two Black brothers. “What are you guys going to do?”

Remus sported a determined expression as he looked to Sirius. “We’re going to make it right.”

Shelby stood by her word and brought your breakfast. She also brought you lunch, and then dinner. But by the following morning, she was tired of playing the role of house elf.

“Alright, are you going to tell me why you’re avoiding Lupin and Black?” She asked plainly, plopping herself down uninvited onto your bed.

“Wha-? I’m ... I’m not avoiding them.” You lied poorly.

“Please; don’t spit on my muffin and call it frosting, Y/N. You’re obviously avoiding them.”

“I...ew?”

She groaned and fell onto her back in defeat. “Please, for all that is holy, tell me why they’ve been following me around like kicked puppies hoping I’ll take them to their master?”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your book that you held open but had never been reading. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re real upset.” You muttered.

“That’s it.” She spat and plucked your book out of your hands, throwing it over her shoulder unceremoniously. You cringed to think about how Remus would feel seeing a book treated in such a way.

“I was reading that!”

“Don’t lie to me again.” She said, levelling you with a ‘no nonsense’ look. “Spill.”

You sighed deeply, looking toward the window to try and find the words you’d spent the last 24 hours trying to formulate. She never rushed you for your answer, giving you all the time you needed. 

“I feel insignificant.” You admitted finally.

“And?”

You turned to face her, bemusement painting your features. “What do you mean, and?”

“And... have you spoken to them about it?”

You felt a little embarrassed to admit that no, you hadn’t.

“Why not?”

And that simple question seemed to set off all the emotions (mostly frustration) that simmered beneath your surface.

“Because Shelby. Because I don’t want to have to beg for love and affection. I don’t want to have to tell people how to love me; they should just already love me. I don’t want to feel like I’m intruding in someone else’s relationship. I don’t want to have to point out that I’m here and I’m hurting. It’s mortifying. I... I think I’m just done.”

Shelby nodded in understanding before she stood from your bed. “Then you need to finish this today. No more hiding in your room being angry by yourself, and no more letting them sniff around the castle like dejected little runts. Put all three of you out of your misery.” 

It was your turn to nod as you too stood from your bed, ready to face possibly one of the most heartbreaking days of your life.

But Shelby was right; it was time. 

The worst part was that Shelby had been telling the truth; Remus and Sirius did look like kicked puppies. 

The second you had entered the Great Hall you heard a crash of knees against benches and cutlery clashing as Sirius clumsily tried to vacate his seat in record time to make it over to you.

“Y/N!” He called, as if you could have missed the racket he made just prior. 

He looked gaunt – like he hadn’t eaten or slept enough (in the only less than 48 hours) since you’d seen him last. His eyes were red and a little swollen, like he’d been rubbing at them.

You immediately felt sick with guilt; if he really was struggling with things with his family, the last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. But Sirius was looking after himself, and Remus was looking after him too; someone needed to think about you. You had to look after yourself.

Remus didn’t look much better, approaching the two of you much more slowly, hardly making eye contact with you as if you’d lash out at any moment. You had to admit that it annoyed you a little bit.

“Hi Sirius.” You offered, voice grating over the sudden tightness. “Remus.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave Remus’ shoulders as he made an effort to make eye contact with you.

“Can we talk?” He asked timidly. 

You knew what was coming, what was happening, what you yourself had come here planning to do.

But it broke your heart nonetheless.

“Sure.” You whispered, and exited the Great Hall without waiting to see if they were following you. 

You walked into an empty classroom and leaned against one of the walls as Remus and Sirius closed the door behind them. They shared another look and stood opposite of you.

More secret conversations. You thought bitterly. And doesn’t this just paint a lovely picture; them versus you. 

“Y/N. We, uhm...we’ve been talking, and we realized that...that maybe we haven’t gone about this the right way.” Sirius started, looking at Remus continuously as he addressed you. 

We’ve made a terrible mistake. 

“We didn’t take into account the ways in which our relationship would have to change in order to make the three of us work” Remus added.

We didn’t realize how much you’d take away from us, you heard

“We feel like we’ve been unfair to you, and... we’re really sorry.” Sirius concluded, looking like his heart had been ripped out of his rib cage. You supposed that would make sense, considering that’s how you currently felt yourself.

It probably hurt all the same to them – they’d be losing the friendships the three of you had created too; the friendship you had with Remus, the friendship you had with Sirius, and the fun the three of you had all together. But you still loved them, and the last thing you wanted to do was to interfere in their relationship.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.” You admitted finally. “It was just a mistake.”

Remus’ head cocked to the side like a confused puppy whilst Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed. “Well...I, I’m not sure-” Remus started but was cut off by Sirius.

“Wait, Y/N, what exactly do you think the mistake was?”

You looked between the two of them as you lifted your shoulder. “I... I guess including me?” You stated as a question.

Sirius actually sputtered as Remus stepped towards you, stopping himself seemingly before he made to grab you.

“No! No, Dove. That’s not a mistake!” He insisted.

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us – no, no. This...wow, okay. Can we start from the beginning, please? Why do you think this was a mistake?” Sirius managed to (barely) get out.

You looked to the ceiling, eyes stinging at the reality of having to voice your hurt. “Because” your voice came out embarrassingly high. “Because it-it felt...better when we were friends. I didn’t feel...in the way. And it felt easier. Just - I didn’t mean to come in between you, and I never...” you cut yourself off, quickly moving into hyperventilating territory. 

“But-”

“It’s not a mistake!” Sirius shouted, cutting Remus off. “This wasn’t a mistake! You weren’t a mistake. I... okay. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, that’s true. But I don’t consider that a mistake. Not you, never you.”

“It was a surprise; a happy accident.” Remus added hopefully shy.

You felt drunk...dizzy...beyond confused. Weren’t they breaking up with you? Weren’t you supposed to be breaking up with them!?

“I think it was easier when we were friends because we weren’t putting so much pressure on ourselves to get this right.” Sirius explained.

Remus nodded and continued. “Sirius used to get so jealous if I got to hang out with you without him if he was at practice – took us a while to figure out that it was because he wished he was the one hanging out with you. When we started dating, I guess Sirius and I figured we’d just make sure to always hangout with you together so that neither of us felt left out. But we never even thought about how that must’ve been making you feel, dove. I’m so sorry.” 

“Regulus read us our rights.” Sirius admitted abashedly. “He pointed out that the relationship between the three of us will only work if our relationships with each other are strong. And we didn’t make our individual relationships with you a priority – that was our mistake, Y/N. Not you.” 

“Our mistake was believing you would just ‘catch up’ to where we are – which is years in the making – and also expecting you to somehow do that on your own. It was selfish and thoughtless.” Remus stressed

The things they were saying made sense and spoke to your very soul, but you couldn’t shake off this lingering feeling of dread.

“I... I should have said something... about how I was feeling.”

Sirius sighed, but it was Remus who spoke. “I think all of us could have done a better job communicating, that’s true. But we should have been more considerate. We asked you to join us, dove; we should have made that easy for you to do.”

“To think how much grief we’ve caused ourselves, when we could have just solved this all with a conversation.” Sirius mumbled dejectedly. 

“We’re not too late, are we? To solve this?” Remus asked quietly. Sirius’ eyes looked like they were close to popping out of his skull as he stood and made for you, grabbing your hands pleadingly.

“Oh gods, Y/N. You... you were breaking up with us, weren’t you? You thought we were breaking up with you?” His voice sounded very close to a sob.

“Please...please dove I- I don’t know that we deserve it, but please give us a chance to make this right, to do this properly. Give us a chance to love you the way you deserve.” Remus begged, moving to stand in front of you with Sirius, though he controlled his urge to grab your hands. 

You looked between the two boys; the two boys who you’ve been basically in love with for so long – the two boys who have proclaimed to feel the same way about you - and wondered to yourself again:

Have we made a terrible mistake?

Remus’ golden eyes shimmered with compassion and warmth, and Sirius burned fiercely in devotion and promises.  

Had you made a mistake? Falling in love with them?

No.

Perhaps Remus was right. Perhaps this was a happy accident.

“Okay.” You whispered. Remus exhaled the breath he’d been holding while Sirius’ face morphed into a small, hopeful kind of smile – far shyer than you were used to seeing from the boy.

“Okay?” He asked, moving his hands up from your wrists to your shoulders.

“Yeah... I-I don’t want to lose you guys.” You admitted wetly, a tear betraying you as it fell down your cheek. Sirius was quick to catch it with his thumb.

“Never, dove. Not if I can help it.” Remus promised. 

You believed him.  

taglist: @cyripticchronicler @orphicmortala @hcqwxrtss123 @ssc7514 @misacc08 @ashie-babie @milkyasteroids, @maqqiekwon @daisiesformylove @littlenerdybee @allllium

[shookyungsoo]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[shookyungsoo]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

modern restaurant au, and you’re the newest member of the team! tags: james x fem!reader, server!james, bartender!sirius, chef!remus, server!lily, server!marlene, hostess!mary, ooc!remus, hothead!remus, server!reader, anxious!reader, coworker!marauders, modern au, restaurant au, muggle au

⟢ part 1. welcome in it's your first day on the job and james is your trainer

⟢ part 2. james' girl after training with james for a few weeks, people have started calling you his

⟢ part 3. graduation james finds the conclusion of your training bittersweet

⟢ part 4. smoke break neither you nor james smoke, but remus does

⟢ part 5. silverware you and james complete side work at the end of your shift

⟢ part 6. drinks james asks you to stay for some drinks after closing time

more coming soon

[shookyungsoo]

Though they be but little, they are fierce

A Thomas Shelby x Reader soulmate au fic that was originally posted on ao3, but also here thanks to @rev-wrath and their support.

Soulmate au: Everyone is born with an animal guide that is an embodiment of their soulmate's soul. Said animal guide is there to guide people to their soulmates.

Summary: You are born with what you assumed was a black kitten with eyes that are strikingly blue and a demeanour that seemed almost regal, in a way. Thomas Shelby was born with a little, but fierce stoat that bit and nipped at everything that got on their nerves. You romanticised soulmates and wanted to meet yours as soon as possible. Tommy disliked the idea of soulmates and never wanted to meet his. What happens when your paths inevitably cross?

I should not have been using up my small reservoir of writing juice on this. I have something else to work on + two exams and a coursework due in the span of three weeks. Oh yeah. Also have to start sending emails to potential PhD supervisors. But uh. Cillian Murphy. He does things to me. Enjoy.

Warnings! Implied rape/non-con, implied animal abuse, implied torture, canon-typical violence, period typical racism and sexism. Tommy is a bit of a dick as well. He will get better but like. He's an ass. Also, very vulgar language that if you've read my stuff before you would be surprised.

Masterlist

When you were born, it was a small cat that materialised out of nowhere. A mewling little kit that already had tufts of black fur showing that it would bring you good luck in life. That was what you had been told, and it was what you believed all throughout your childhood.

You lived a pleasant life. A… bountiful one. Your parents were soulmates, even though you knew that they weren’t truly in love with one another. They were business partners- friends- more than they were lovers.

From that, you could say that your childhood wasn’t typical. Born into a high-class society, but what you saw and learnt were what many deemed to be ‘barbaric’. Your parents had a revolving list of lovers they invited to the manor, and although you were ignored for most of those nights, some did come to like you.

You grew up lonelier, compared to most. There were no next-door neighbours to run around with. No friends to talk to or share memories with. Your parents were amicable with each other, but you knew from a young age that you were nothing more than an heir to their shared estate.

Your parents were on the eccentric side, not caring about what society expected an heir should be.

In that lonely childhood of yours, your animal guide was your sole companion.

He was a quiet little thing from the beginning. Barely mewling when others were nearby. Never truly hissing or seeking out attention. But you loved him. Because this was an animal that embodied your soulmate.

Lucky was the name you had given him in your younger years, as black cats were good luck. He had put up with that name for a while, but had eventually shown you his disapproval of it by pawing at your leg in the middle of a private lesson.

You had tried to ignore him and focus on what the tutor was teaching you, but his claws dug into your clothes.

“What?” you said, effectively cutting the tutor mid-sentence.

Your companion- fur sleek and as dark as the night skies- blinked at you, striking blue eyes boring into you. His tail smacked against the wooden floorboards in a clearly discontented manner.

The tutor said your name in a rather disciplinary manner, and you glared at the cat before trying to focus on the book open in front of you.

A sound rumbled from your animal companion and you were momentarily taken aback by the sheer lowness of it all. You looked at your cat and wondered briefly if he really was a cat.

He was larger than the cat companions you had seen the maids of the manor carry on their shoulders. Come to think of it, his ears were rounder, and paws a lot larger.

But you had heard of some cats becoming really big. A… Maine Coon, was the breed’s name.

The tutor’s sparrow chirped uneasily and flew inside his pocket when your feline companion turned his head to glower at the man.

“Stop it, love.” Instead of calling your companion Lucky, you had eventually come to call him by various terms of endearment you had seen lovers call each other in romance books. Sometimes it was love, sometimes it was darling, sometimes it was sweetheart. “What do you want?”

Said companion leapt into your lap, like he would do when you were a smaller child and when he was a kitten. He was heavier than expected, and you quickly wrapped your arms around his form and pressed your chin on top of his furry head.

He pawed at your book.

You paused and looked at what he was pointing at.

“A name?” A low, nearly inaudible purr. “You want a name?” You laughed in an incredulous manner. “Does it have to be now?”

His tail flicked against your thigh, showing his clearly sour mood.

“Alright, alright.” You pressed a kiss onto the top of your companion’s head, not at all heeding the scandalous gasp that left your tutor’s mouth. It wasn’t good manners to show affection to your guide, after all. “But after the lesson, okay?”

Your companion snarled- a sound so vicious and out of character for him- and that made you startle slightly. He however, let the sound peeter off when you clutched onto his fur in alarm.

“Lessons are dismissed for now.” Your tutor said, scrambling for his books and papers. “You may finish the other content on your own. You are a smart child, after all. I must speak to your parents-”

You watched as the much older man all but flew out of the room, leaving behind fluttering pieces of paper.

“Great job, dear.” You said, rolling your eyes and running your hand through his fur. “You scared off yet another tutor.”

He bumped his head against the bottom of your chin again.

“Right. Names.” You apprehensively looked down at your companion. “I doubt you’d want to be called anything like Clover or Lucky.”

His tail flicked again.

“Hm. Charles? Edward?” Those were names of kings and although your companion was not fully grown yet, he looked regal. “Arthur?” The last name pulled what sounded too much like a scoff from him. “Okay, not that.”

You pulled away from him slightly to face him fully. The wide blue eyes, the whiskers and the round face… The tips of his teeth hidden under his muzzle as well as the distinctively black coat of his-

“Camlo.” You said, and he blinked at you slowly. His tail stopping in its flicking. “You like that one?”

He purred quietly and buried his face into your shoulder. You had no idea where that name had come from, but it had lodged itself into your mind and had felt right.

“Camlo, I hope my soulmate isn’t as demanding as you are.”

Said companion simply nibbled at your clothes in response.

~ ♥~

Thomas Shelby was born into a home full of chaos and a life full of hardships. Small Heath was dirty and full of piss and shit, and he had most definitely rolled in it when he was out tussling with the other kids.

His mother was a strong woman, but she was also very frail. His father was… better off not living with them in Watery Lane. But his mother and father were soulmates, and the mere sight of his mother being beaten by his father put him off of the idea of soulmates.

But of course, he too had an animal companion to guide him to his own.

It was a small little thing. Aunt Polly had told him that when he was born, his mother had fretted over the lack of an animal companion. But that when she saw a little fleshy thing clinging onto his hand, she had been relieved.

Arthur’s guide was a small thing too, but it sang like mad and pecked at him whenever he got into fights. Tommy found it funny to see his older brother being chased around by a budgie the size of his fist.

John’s one was a larger one. A brown cat that liked to bat at Arthur’s budgie despite him yelling to leave her alone. Eyes big and hazel and burning with a wildness that Aunt Polly- as well as her dog companion, Gilderoy- approved of.

Ada’s was the largest of them all. It was a fucking bear. That was what it was. How it would be fit in the house when she was fully grown, he didn’t know, but Aunt Polly and his mum were very happy with the fact that her animal companion could take care of her.

His guide nipped at his neck. Tiny fangs digging into him.

“For fuck’s sake!”

“Is ankle nipper at you again?”

Tommy glared at Arthur, who gave him a grin. The budgie settled on top of his head seemingly amused at the antics of his guide.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He dug a hand into his shirt to pull out the weasel like animal that had been tormenting him for days on end. “Eh? What’s got you all bushy tailed and annoyed?”

They blinked at him slowly, winding their body around his wrist before nipping at his finger.

“They’ve been at ya for days now.” Ada poked her head into his room, the bear cub clambering behind her. “Do they need something?”

“I don’t know.” He turned to look at them and poked their nose, making them chirp. “What do ya want?”

“Tommy-”

They bit hard onto his finger.

“Ow!”

“Fuck, did they draw blood?” John asked.

“Tommy-”

They bit him again.

“Tommy.” He said his name slowly, watching as they paused mid bite. “Me name?”

The weaselly thing chirped again, this time more content. They licked his bleeding finger and rubbed their furry face against his palm.

“Does they want a name?”

“I think so, Arthur.” Tommy flicked their face slightly. “What would you need a name for?”

Arthur didn’t name his guide. She was always referred to as birdie or the occasional sweetpea. John called his pretty, or the occasional beautiful. Ada called hers Teddy, but he was more than certain that it was a childhood name that wouldn’t stick around for long.

“Aunt Pol’s guide has a name.”

“Yeah, but she’s magic.” Arthur said, in response to Ada’s sentence. “Sees things, don’t she?” He turned his eyes to Tommy. “Do ya, Tom?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck do they need a name for?”

Ankle biter unwound themselves from his hand and lunged at Arthur, who swore harshly as they hung onto his nose.

“Tommy, get your bloody guide off of me!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at Ada’s giggle and John’s loud howls of amusement.

“You brought this onto yourself, brother.”

“Tommy!”

“Moss.” It was a name that reminded him of nature. Of fields and travelling. His guide released his brother’s nose and scampered to him again. Tiny claws digging into his legs as they climbed up him. “There’s a good ankle nipper.”

They made a chirping sound and contentedly wound themselves around his neck, as though they had nothing to do with the chaos that had unfolded mere seconds ago.

“If your soulmate is as fucking feral as them-”

“They’ll fit right fucking in, won’t they?” John cut Arthur off, a boyish, teasing grin on his face.

As much as he liked having Moss around, Tommy wasn’t looking for a soulmate. Not in any romantic way anyways.

~ ♥~

“What’s a pretty thing like ya doing in this neck of London?”

You ran a hand down Camlo’s back and turned to see a… man. You weren’t quite sure what to make of him, but could tell that he was dangerous. And that those hazel eyes of his brimmed with curiosity and intrigue.

His eyes flickered to your not-quite-a-cat companion. Just as your eyes flickered to his python guide wrapped around his neck and shoulders.

“Camden Town’s not too bad.” You lifted the drink you had been nursing and smiled at him. “The rum’s good.”

“Is it?” The man took a seat on the empty chair in front of you. You arched an eyebrow as Camlo growled lowly, tail swishing back and forth in discontent. “I hope you don’t mind me sitting here. All other tables are full, you see. And I can never resist a pretty thing like you.”

“As flattering as that is, I’m not looking for any… fun. I’m waiting for my soulmate, you see.”

“A romantic one, ain’t you?” The man laughed. “Admirable, yeah. But your soulmate’s a man, pretty thing. He’s probably not going to wait for you. I certainly haven’t.”

You shrugged. You didn’t care for reciprocity.

“He can get his ass fucked or his cock wet for all I care.” You said, forcing as much nonchalance into your tone as possible. “As long as he loves me, I’ll be content.”

“Pretty thing, you-”

“This isn’t a topic to discuss with others.” You said, cutting him off as Camlo picked up on your discomfort. Your companion wound himself around your legs, before standing up on his hind legs to press his massive paws on top of the table. You rubbed his head gently. “Especially not with strangers I don’t know the name of.”

“Where are my manners.” The man didn’t look at the threatening display of Camlo’s unsheathed claws and offered you his hand. “Alfie Solomons.”

You distrustfully looked at his proffered hand before relenting and taking it in yours. You said your name.

“-and this is Camlo.”

“Gypsy name. Is your soulmate a gypsy?”

“I don’t know. But that name popped into mind, and he liked it.” You nodded at the python. “Their name?”

“Never gave ‘em one. They prefer whatever name I call them, as long as it’s a nice one. Like poppet. Or treacle.”

“Mr. Solomons-”

“Alfie.” He gave you a wolfish grin. “We ain’t doing business with each other, pretty thing. I came here for a friend, and you looked like you need one.” His expression sobered a little. “And indulge a man before he gets shipped off for the War, won’t you?”

You paused.

“How would you know I won’t be shipped off myself?”

“You’re rich. And rich folk have ways to escape it all.”

You snorted. He made a fair point, but a point that didn’t apply to you. Your parents insisted that you contribute to aiding the country one way or the other. It would bring more ‘honour to the family name’. And as the sole heir, you were given no other choice.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Alfie.” You sipped at your drink. “My guide is too much of an asset to not use.”

“You’re going to serve in the front lines?”

“No. My family is too important for that. My work is more secret services.” You were probably nor supposed to talk about this to anyone, but as you never wanted to serve the King, you didn’t care. “But, ah. Don’t mention this to anyone.”

“’f course not. I’m not a fucking snitch.” He pondered as he looked you over again. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

You laughed.

“Alfie, let’s just finish our drinks and leave as friends.” You gently pushed Camlo’s face down under the table. “I’ll wish for your safety as I wish for my soulmate’s.”

Maybe it was the alcohol getting to you. Or maybe it was the loneliness that clung to you at all times. But you found yourself taking a liking to this Alfie fellow, despite not truly knowing who he was.

He didn’t respond, but clinked your glass against his.

~ ♥~

Tommy hated France. When the war was over, he was never coming to this shithole of a country again.

Sweat drenched his face, and the sounds of clanging, of rumbling, of shouting, made him want to drag his nails down his face. Moss was tucked safely in the pocket of his trousers, their little paws digging into the flesh of his thighs to let him know they were safe.

Every single man who was tunnelling were chosen for their small guides. According to the nurses, Tommy was one of them, as Moss wasn’t a weasel but a stoat.

He couldn’t taste anything but mud and dirt. He couldn’t smell anything but explosives and wet, wet, mud.

The clanging of pickaxes. The shouts to take cover. The rumbling of the tunnels as something went off-

The sounds of wounded guides whimpering and crying out.

Nobody had told him what happened when someone’s guide was hurt. Did the soulmate get hurt too, or were they two completely different things? Tommy didn’t care about soulmates. Not after his mum died. Not after his dad fucked off and left her.

If soulmates led to death and pain, he didn’t want one.

But he cared for Moss. His ankle biter who was callous and mean whenever he fucked someone. His little nipper that would still come to cuddle him in the cold winters of Birmingham.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and felt his lips twitch upwards at the way Moss’ small paws latched onto his fingers. Not harshly as they always did, but with a gentleness that he had never really expected from them.

“We’ll get home, ankle biter.” He muttered softly, knowing that they were listening, in spite of the loud sounds echoing underground. “And I’ll take you out riding again. You can hunt as many rabbits as you want, eh?”

They nibbled at his dirty, mud caked fingers. Reassuring him as much as he was reassuring them.

~ ♥~

You choked on a sob as you slid down a wall. Your hands were caked in blood. Camlo’s muzzle was caked in blood.

You had just killed someone. Several someones, if you included the ones your animal companion mauled. And even though they had been torturing you for days, seeing them on the ground, dead, was not a pleasant experience.

“Baby.” You said, controlling your breathing. “Beloved.”

Camlo walked over to you- limping, as he had been tortures as you were- and rested his massive head onto your lap. The feeling of his warmth on you after that brutal experience made you want to crumple.

Every inch of you was hurting. And you were currently wearing nothing more than a shirt and a pair of trousers you had ripped off of one of the dead men. You would be so brutally scarred, and you could tell that.

Your thighs and abdomen would be faring the worst.

“Let me see you, baby.” You said, fingers trembling as you cupped the giant cat’s face. “You’re okay?” You frowned at the way one of his eyes wouldn’t open. Did he get blinded? “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

Camlo made a soft meowing sound and let your hug his face.

“If you weren’t my guide, you wouldn’t have had to go through this.”

He pulled away from you and instead licked your cheek with his barbed tongue. The action felt apologetic too. As if he was telling you that he was sorry too, for being this big and intimidating. That if he were a small cat instead, you would be at home and away from the brutality of the war.

“What use was saving myself up for my soulmate?” You asked yourself bitterly. “God, if I knew this would happen, I would have taken Alfie up on his offer to fuck.”

Fuck. Alfie. You had sent him several letters, and the first one had been responded to by a questioning yet rather happy letter back. You were sure you had to write a letter about all this to him at a later date.

You couldn’t tell your parents, nor did you have any close friends to tell this to. The social circles you would find yourself in wouldn’t understand.

What would your soulmate think? Camlo was a boy, which meant your soulmate was a man. Would he even want you? Would he think you were damaged goods? Would you have something even less than what your parents have?

Camlo’s paw gently rested on your leg. One strikingly blue eye told you that if your soulmate didn’t want you, he’d take care of you. Just like he held down every man who had exposed his dick to you to let you brutally cut them off.

“Okay.” You sniffled slightly and braced yourself to stand up. “Okay. Enough wallowing. We have to go back and report.”

If you got out of the war alive, you would throw all your respect for the King down the gutter.

If you didn’t? Well, you’d be cursing him to hell with your dying breath.

~ ♥~

The war was over, and Tommy couldn’t help but relish in the way the air wrapped around him. Free and brimming with excitement. John was back with his children- one not borne from his soulmate, but none of his siblings were particularly loyal to theirs- but poor Martha had passed. Arthur was out drinking and fucking like he always was.

He too, had relished in the company of whores- or, well, Lizzie- and the warmth that couldn’t be found in France.

But now, he was riding.

Just like he had promised Moss.

The breeze brushed at his cheeks, and the feeling of the stallion’s strong muscles under him made him feel like he was on top of the world. A taste of what he would feel if the business became legitimate. If he could get all his family out of Small Heath and in riches rather than rags.

Moss was hunting. He couldn’t see them from the full on sprint he had the stallion go on, but he knew they were there.

He eased the horse into a gallop instead, stroking his neck and mane as he murmured Romani reassurances into his ear.

A loud trilling sound alerted him of Moss’ successful hunt.

He slid off of the horse and leaned down to see how proud Moss looked over the rabbit they had hunted. Five times their size, but bloody and dead. He offered out his hands and let them drop the animal onto his open palms.

“Good job.”

Moss preened and chirped before bounding off into the distance, to apparently to kill every single rabbit in this field.

Tommy sighed and hung the rabbit carcass next to the previous three. There would be more meat than ever back home, it seems. He hoped that Polly knew what to do with all of it. Maybe some of it could be sold to the butcher’s-

Moss chirped, and he knew that they would be biting his finger off if he sold their prey.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Moss. We have enough already.”

Said guide scampered up his trousers and onto his shoulder to playfully nip at his ear. They trilled softly, and that made Tommy relent. He had volunteered to go to France and had taken Moss away from their freedom.

“Fine. One more.”

They licked his cheek and threw themselves off of his shoulder to sniff out some more prey.

And Tommy couldn’t help but smile as he lit one of his cigarettes.

 “I would say congratulations on surviving the war, but you’re in prison,” you said, picking at the skin of your nails.

“I’ll be out soon, pretty thing. Just you wait. Besides, you’re the one that didn’t come to find me, eh? It’s been a year since the war ended, and now you search for me?”

“It wasn’t my fault.” You ran a hand down Camlo’s back and offered the man a small, tired grin. “Was sent off to an asylum.”

“You what?”

Alfie’s back straightened at your words, and the light-hearted tint of his tone disappeared. You studied him as he studied you. The beard was new, and so were the scars on his face and arms.

“You remember my last letter, don’t you?”

Camlo pounced onto your lap and you didn’t make a noise, even as he all but squished you under his weight. Alfie ran his hand down his beard several times.

“Aye, pretty thing.”

“I went on a couple more missions after that, but in the last one, I broke down, apparently.” You didn’t remember much of that particular one. But when you came to, you were in a mental asylum and were injected with more morphine than you had ever taken in your life. “I just got out. I’m sane enough now, apparently.”

“I guess I should be fucking honoured then, having ya visit me right after you got released.”

“You should be.” You gently rubbed at the scar marring Camlo’s face. He had retained his eye, yes, but… the scar would remain. “I haven’t visited my parents either.”

“When I get out of here, I’m giving you a job.”

“Alfie, I already have one. It’s maintaining my family’s estate-”

“That fucking place ain’t good for you. You need some time away.” His python companion flicked their tongue at you. In a more reassuring manner than you had ever seen them. “The bakery’ll do you good.”

“I’m not dipping into-”

“The actual bakery, pretty thing.” Alfie cut you off. “Run the numbers, bake some bread, hell, go off and sleep for all I care.”

You felt your shoulders sag. Why was Alfie treating you this well? You had met him once before the War really started, and had only sent him several letters during it. Technically speaking, this was your second meeting.

You didn’t think he wanted to fuck you. And you certainly didn’t think that he wanted something romantic with you.

“Why?”

“I’m a mad man, and I do as I please.” Right. The Wandering Jew. The one whose alliances are close to his heart and away from prying eyes. You had heard rumours in the asylum, after all. “You sent me letters, pretty thing.”

“And my letters stole your heart?”

Alfie guffawed and shook his head.

“Send me a telegram when you decide to take me up on my offer.”

“I will.” Your animal companion raised his head to stare at Alfie. “Thank you, Alfie.”

~ ♥~

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Moss didn’t flinch away from his thunderous shout. They reared back on top of his office desk and made furious chirping noises instead.

“No. You don’t just bite people because you don’t like them.”

They lunged to bite him, but Tommy wasn’t relenting this time. He snatched his hand away and watched as they crashed down onto the floor. They probably landed painfully, but they rose back as if they were completely unharmed.

“Grace is a kind woman. She cares for me.”

They scampered back onto the desk to look at him in the eye. They chirped, and he could hear the ‘and I don’t?’ in the sound.

“You’re a guide. Not me soulmate.” He fixed them with a cold glare. “Be grateful that Grace was kind enough to forgive you for your actions.”

He had gotten more than used to the callous way they would treat his fucking partners and the occasional romantic interest he chased after. But they had never truly drew blood from them. Only him.

Tommy didn’t want a soulmate. Never wanted one. And even though he cared for Moss, he wouldn’t let them get in the way of his happiness.

When Moss lunged to bite him again, he did something that he regretted the moment he did.

Moss flew to the side, tiny body slamming against the wall.

He felt his heart drop. Despite all the bite the stoat had, they were still very small. Fragile. And he had-

They warily got to their paws, eyes blinking at him, all the fire and confidence just… gone.

Slowly, Tommy took a step towards them, only to stop when they curled away from him, face darting back and forth. Nose twitching and long body coiling in what he assumed was in preparation to run-

“Moss-”

They scampered away, slipping between his legs and disappearing completely from view.

“Fuck.”

~ ♥~

“Where’s the ankle biter?”

Tommy ran his hands down his face at Polly’s question. And then he sighed heavily.

His aunt sank into the seat in front of him and studied his face. She frowned as Gilderoy settled himself neatly by her feet.

“Tommy, what the fuck did you do?”

He knew he would get a verbal assault from his aunt, knowing how much she held animal guides to a high degree. If she knew he had laid a hand on them and because of the barmaid she didn’t like…

He pursed his lips.

“Thomas Shelby.”

“I hit them.”

“You what?” At Tommy’s silence, she let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh you men and your fucking cocks. You want that Irish barmaid to fuck you so much that you’d lay a hand on your guide?”

“I don’t just want to fuck her, Pol-”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you until I finish.” She snapped, glaring balefully at him. He wisely closed his mouth. “That was a part of your soulmate you hurt. And you’d be lucky if they came back to you at all.”

“I don’t want a soulmate, Pol. You’ve seen me mam.”

“Excuses, excuses. Shoving away your soulmate- your guide- just because your fucking cock is doing your thinking for you.” She sneered at him. “Don’t come to me when Moss won’t come near you again. Or when that barmaid you’ve been fucking inevitably blows things up in your face.”

“You made your point, Aunt Pol.”

A silence.

“They’re such a small thing, Tommy.”

“Aye, I know.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette. It was his seventh one in the last hour. “I know.”

“Were they hurt?”

“I don’t know. They ran off before I could check.”

“What the fuck are you still doing here, then?”

“What can I do?” He took another deep breath. “They’re too small, and they know where I’ll look for them. Aunt Polly…”

“You bloody idiot.” She sighed. “Gilderoy, could you find them?”

Her guide languidly stood up and padded over to where Tommy was sitting. And without another word, he offered the dog a hand and let him sniff it. The dog barked softly before slowly ambling out of the door and out of view.

“This is the first and last time I’m helping you with this, Tommy. Next time you lay a hand on your guide, I’ll shoot you myself.”

~ ♥~

Moss was hurt. They were used to licking their own wounds, considering how small and frail their bones were but…

Tommy had never hurt them. Not until now anyway.

They knew he didn’t want a soulmate. They knew he didn’t care about his soulmate.

Guides shared some memories with their person’s soulmate, so they knew how much Tommy’s soulmate craved for him to love them. How starved you were for love, to chase away the loneliness that possessed you, just as much as it had possessed them.

But Moss couldn’t give up. They were his guide, for fuck’s sake. They had to guide him to his soulmate. What he wants to do afterwards would be completely up to Tommy.

It hurt a little to breathe though.

“Ankle biter!”

That was Gilderoy. Fuck. They curled around even tighter around themselves. They didn’t want any of the Shelbys to find them. Especially not Polly’s guide. They didn’t want to go back.

Moss stifled their breathing. They were a predator, yes. But they were still small enough to be prey. Dogs could kill them. Birds of prey could kill them. They were a predator with prey animal rage.

The face of Gilderoy greeted them.

“Are you hurt, ankle nipper?”

“Just my ribs. And my paw.” They shook their body. “And my tail.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” They shifted even more inside the narrow tunnel. “Are you going to take me back?”

“Do you want to?”

“No, not now.” They let their fur stand on edge. “Are you going to drag me back?”

“Polly wants me to bring you back. But I won’t.” He pulled away, but Moss could hear his voice. “Just… come back soon, okay? You won’t survive long away from him.”

“Yeah, I promise,” Moss said, like a liar.

~ ♥~

Camlo loved you. You were soft and kind but also very vicious. He had stuck by your side when you shot and stabbed and killed during the Great War. He had seen you at your lowest and as you recovered, teeth clenched and dragging yourself back up to ‘before’.

He loved you, and that was why he never wanted you to meet your soulmate.

Guides shared some memories with the other half of the person they were guiding to. And well, many memories were full of sex and lust. Of the sheer hatred at the thought of a soulmate.

And he knew that your soulmate had laid a hand on his guide. Which meant that he would be more likely than not to hit you.

The man who was your soulmate would break your heart. And he didn’t want that. All he cared for was your well-being. He wanted you happy and content.

“Baby.” Your voice crooned at him, and he raised his head to place on your lap. “Are you bored?”

He was, but he also didn’t want you away from the confines of the estate. You were safe here. Away from gang wars and violence, and away from your soulmate.

Camlo blinked at you as you scratched his chin. He purred contentedly and nuzzled even more into your touch.

“Because I am.” You wrapped your arms around his face and rubbed your cheek against the top of his head. “I think it’s about time I took Alfie’s offer.”

You had been restless these days. And if Camlo were to be honest with himself, he had expected for you to be restless a lot sooner. Especially since Solomons had visited on a fairly regular basis.

He didn’t want you to, but your mind was most likely set.

Camlo pawed at your leg, letting his tail swish back and forth.

“Camlo, dear, if I stay on the manor grounds for any longer, I am going to blow up.” You tilted his head up so that he was looking you straight in the eye. “Please, baby? I have you to protect me, right?”

He relented. How could he ever say no to you?

He licked your palm and purred when you laughed.

Camlo would live with it, as long as you were happy.

~ ♥~

Moss came by a couple of days after Polly had sent Gilderoy after them. And as much as Tommy was relieved to have them back in his sight, he was beyond frustrated at the way they skirted away from him.

They did let him hold them as one of the doctors checked them over, but after all the bandages were applied, they were hobbling away from him again.

Ada had very callously told him- Karl in her arms- that it was his fucking fault anyway, and the newest Shelby member going by Esme was quick to make her own displeasure known. Her lynx- who was her guide for John- hissing with her.

“Moss.”

Said guide twitched slightly to look at him but didn’t make a move to bite him, even when he gestured for her to come to him with his fingers.

“Moss.”

They ignored him, which made him reach out for them. But he stopped when they scampered back. Avoiding his touch.

“Moss, I’m going to go and fuck Grace.” They twitched. “And I’m going to leave you behind.”

The stoat made a chirping sound that was more akin to a growl. And from that, Tommy could pick out a singular sentiment.

‘Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care anymore.’

And Tommy was getting sick and tired of their stubbornness. He had apologised, he had bribed, and he had all but begged them to let him touch them again. But none of that worked.

“Fine. Be that way.”

They made a mocking chirping sound before sniffing and scampering up of a bookshelf, hiding themselves behind the ornaments sitting on the shelves.

“I’ll be at the Garrison if you get over yourself. Give it a couple hours unless you want to see me-”

Outraged chirping cut him off, and Tommy simply shrugged and picked up his coat.

~ ♥~

You hummed softly as you walked about Camden like you owned the place. It did help that you had a large, black leopard by your side, growling at anyone whose eyes lingered on you for too long. It also helped that you were good friends with the king of the place.

“Alfie.” You said, greeting the man with a smile. “I see you’ve got my telegram.”

“Aye, pretty thing. I have.” He and the python guide of his greeted you in front of the bakery. His sleeves were bunched up at his elbows to expose the tattoos on his forearms. “Glad to see you and the bastard that protects you.”

“Ay, don’t call baby that!” you said, cupping your hands around Camlo’s ears. Said animal companion simply huffed.

“Baby? He’s the size of a fucking car. If that’s a baby, then so is Ollie’s fully grown guide.”

“Don’t listen to him, darling. Alfie’s just mad that you’re more handsome than he is.”

“Fuck off.”

“I thought you were giving me a job, though.”

“I am, yeah. I am. Things are busy at the moment so it’s a fucking blessing to have you here. Fucking gypsies from Birmingham.” Alfie gave you a once over as he rubbed at his beard with his ringed fingers. “But that’s part of business you aren’t going to handle. Or be part of.”

You gently rubbed at Camlo’s head.

“I don’t want more violence in my life, Alfie.”

“A bit too late for that, innit? You’ve accepted my offer and well. You know who I am. I’ll try my best to keep it away, but if things don’t go as planned and if those Italian bastards pick a fight with me…”

“If things lead up to that, I can handle myself.” You let your smile drop and a passive expression grace your features instead. “I know my way around a gun and a knife. And Camlo is a beast to be reckoned with.”

At your sentence, your companion yawned, letting his massive fangs glint under the light.

“You’re right, you’re right. Can’t forget the fucking car-sized cat you have with you.” He offered you his arm, which you took with all the grace and poise that had been drilled into you. “Come, come. Let me show you what you’ll be working with.”

~ ♥~

Now, Alfie Solomons was not an idiot, despite his insane ramblings. He liked being underestimated, and taking people off guard. The only one he didn’t try it on was you. Well, the only one that was currently alive, that is.

Tommy Shelby was a pretty, vicious thing. Different from the hot, blazing terror that bastard Arthur was. And Alfie much preferred the cool, nearly icy man that was the second Shelby. He found it funny to piss the man off.

Tommy Shelby was a pretty, vicious thing, and he shared the same striking blue eyes as Camlo.

Alfie was not an idiot. He had been on the receiving end of the black leopard’s unimpressed glare for several years now. And he had also been on the receiving end of your own defiant look.

The same look the stoat on Tommy’s shoulder had given him during every threat he had made against the other man.

On one hand, he could play Cupid and connect you with your soulmate, knowing how much of a romantic you were. You had saved yourself up for your soulmate- and Alfie wasn’t considering the unfortunate events that had happened to you as you breaking that promise to yourself- and literally loved your guide, no matter how terrifying the beast was.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t wish Tommy on even his worst enemy. That man brought danger and violence everywhere he went. He was a wily, pretty thing, and Alfie didn’t want you to be dragged into the shit the man stirred.

From the way your guide acted, Alfie could tell that he knew that too.

Tommy was not a man who would cherish his soulmate. And he was most definitely not a man that could value you. Or understand the hell you had been through. Alfie wasn’t either, but he was at least very adept at observing people and being compassionate.

Alfie would have liked to gloat about the fact that he was the one to connect Tommy with his soulmate, but he valued his friendship with you more than he valued pissing off the Shelby.

Whenever he had a meeting with the Shelbys, he would send you away. Give you a job that had you far, far away from Camden.

He didn’t know how well that would work, considering your tendencies to do whatever you wanted whilst staring him straight in the eye.

But even if you did meet the man, Alfie doubted that you would know that Tommy was your soulmate. You were sheltered and naïve when it came to the subtilties of romance. You had learnt everything by books.

That guide of yours wouldn’t let you know either. He was, in a way, Tommy Shelby after all.

“Hey, Alfie!” Your voice shouted for him from the legitimate part of the bakery. “Try this bread I helped Donna bake!”

“Donna is a nice lady, pretty thing! I hope you haven’t scared her off!”

“Fuck you! I helped a lot, and I was very, very amicable!”

With a grin, he slipped into the kitchen, poppet wrapped around his neck.

~ ♥~

Tommy was… focused on the expansion to London. He was focusing on that, and that only. He was ignoring the letters from Grace, and he was pushing down his growing desire to be with her.

She was married now, after all. After he had decided to prioritise the business and the family over his own happiness.

The day of the black star was the first time Moss let him touch them. To ease the pain of the gunshot wound and the sting of betrayal that Grace has left behind.

He had ignored the bitter chirp they let out and had instead relished in the way they curled around his neck. He let them lick the salty tears that had ran down his cheek without his consent.

And from then on, the ankle nipper had tentatively crawled onto him. Stiff at first, as though they were cautious of him, but slowly loosening again to how the two of them had been. They didn’t try to bite him though.

Tommy didn’t know if he should be pleased or disappointed.

He still fucked. Lizzie, May Carleton- whenever she was at Arrow House to train his newest horse- and whatever whore he would be able to get his hands on.

Moss didn’t bite them or him. They had simply slipped away to hide wherever and had come back to greet him when his nightly partner went away. Arrow house was big enough and had enough nooks and crannies for them to hide in, and Tommy knew that he would never be able to find them.

He watched keenly as Alfie ran a hand down his beard, the massive snake flicking their tongue at him as they glared at him.

Arthur and John were lingering near the walls, whilst he sat in front of Solomons’ desk. Moss, the weaselly little thing, padded on the wooden surface of it. And unexpectedly, the man in front of him didn’t seem to care.

Even as they knocked down a couple of things down to the floor.

“Reminds me of a friend, that one.” He said, looking down at Moss, who froze up at the sudden referral. Tommy clenched his jaw and placed a hand onto the desk, letting them scamper onto his palm and up his arm. “Feisty things, ain’t they? Stoats. Did you know that they’d hunt prey more than five times their size? Wonder if yours can too or if they’re domesticated.”

“It depends.” Tommy felt Moss slip into his front pocket. “On whether that friend of yours is domesticated or not.”

The man in front of him laughed before cutting off the sound to glare at him.

“See, mate- my friend is about as domesticated as a wild cat. A fierce, pretty thing that can and will cut the balls off of you, and your brothers if you touch them. And that fucking cat of theirs will hold you and your guides down as they do it.”

“I’d like to see them fucking try.”

“Arthur, Arthur- Their cat is the fucking size of a car-”

“Alfie!” a new voice called out, and Tommy suppressed the instinct to turn back and see the owner of the voice.

“Speak of the Devil.” Alfie grinned and the snake wrapped around his neck unwound themselves before sliding to the floor. “Overtook your human, didn’t you, you bastard.”

“What the fuck is that?” John asked, and that was when Tommy turned to see what had gotten his brother so bothered.

“Oh, fuck me. That cat really is the size of a car, Tom.”

He was greeted with a giant cat- muzzle red with blood, fur gleaming with a healthy sheen, and paws about the size of a head- who languidly greeted Alfie’s snake with a nod, even as said snake raised their head to butt against his chin.

“Pretty thing, the fuck have you done now?”

Moss squirmed in his pocket, and he felt them dig their tiny claws into his shirt to pull themselves out.

“Italians. I have cleaned up after myself though, don’t worry.”

You emerged. And Moss scampered away from him and to you, a stranger to him, but apparently not one to Alfie. Before he could call for Moss to come back to him, they jumped to you. Excitedly.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He didn’t need this right now. Didn’t need a fucking soulmate. Not when there was so many other things he had to focus on. Not when he had Grace to think about.

But before Moss could touch you, the massive cat intercepted and batted his tiny fierce thing away.

“Moss!” Tommy reacted on instinct and dove to catch his guide before they could slam onto the unforgiving floor. The moment their furry body touched his palms, they chirped confusedly.

“Baby!” Your voice sounded scandalised. “Camlo, no!”

Camlo. Beautiful. Gentle.

A name unfitting for a guide that was apparently a part of his soul. And certainly a name unfit for something that had batted away his little ankle biter like they were something unneeded.

He heard guns being pulled out, and the apologetic look on your face was washed away by a scowl.

Fluidly, you drew out a gun yourself, as the giant cat huffed and turned coldly away from the still confusedly chirping Moss. His tail flicked back and forth, just like John’s guide did when she was annoyed with something.

“I apologise for Camlo’s actions, but I would really not like to see more blood today, gentlemen.” The cat weaved its massive body through your legs and bared its teeth. “I already killed two Italians today-”

“Did you start a fucking war against them? Cause I swear, pretty thing, there is a limit to my patience. Especially now.”

“Because you’re busy with business, I know.” Tommy gestured for John and Arthur to put down their guns when he was certain that Moss was alright. At their reluctant movements to tuck away their weapons, you did the same. “They thought I was your plaything, Alfie. Thought it would be wise to mess with me. I don’t think it was Sabini’s orders.”

Your fingers scratched at the beast’s head.

“No?”

“He’s too scared of Camlo. Black cats mean misfortune, is what the Italians think.” You completely ignored him and his brothers, which rubbed him the wrong way. “And well. You know my family name.”

“Your family name.”

You turned your attention to Tommy, your eyes flicking to the stoat in his hands.

“My family owns several estates in the country. Multiple different casinos and clubs.”

Something clicked in Tommy’s mind then. You were old money. Very, old money. Proper and educated. And yet the way you held yourself was more similar to him or Alfie than he expected.

“Why’re you here then?” John asked, voicing the question he himself found wondering.

“I wanted a job. Alfie offered a year after the war ended. Didn’t take up on it until now though.”

“You’re the sole heir to the-” Tommy said your family name. Your family was a strange one, to say the least. A single child to inherit everything. You had no need for marriage to keep hold of your assets. “- estate.”

“That they are, Tom, that they are. Now, fuck off.” Moss made a chirping sound that was too akin to a hiss. He placed a hand over their mouth to keep them quiet. Alfie was important to business. “Our business is done for today.”

“Run along, gentlemen.” The massive cat rose to his hind legs and placed his head onto your shoulder. The cat blinked at him and Moss, pawing at you in a possessive way. “Alfie and I have to talk.”

Moss chirped discontentedly and bit his finger. Hard.  

He bit down on his lip to swallow the curse at the tip of his tongue at the sharp, stinging pain of their teeth digging into his flesh.

Instead, he nodded and briskly walked away from Alfie, his arm brushing against yours.

“So, pretty thing- rum today?”

“Sure, but you know me. Fun, but not fucking.”

“A shame, really.”

Tommy simply ignored the conversation as Ollie closed to door behind him and his brothers.

~ ♥~

You watched as a well-dressed woman you had never seen around the town enter the bakery with a child in tow and a large bear lumbering next to her. A small bird poked out of the boy’s hair.

“That’s one of the Shelbys.” Donna said, her monkey guide resting on her shoulder. “Ada Thorne’s her name.”

You peered at her, studying the self-assured way she gazed at the bread.

Camlo wove himself between your legs and blinked at the bear, his fur bristling. You ran a hand down his head reassuringly. Your companion was used to being the sole large predator. He wasn’t used to being threatened.

“Hello.” The woman said, smiling at you, even as her eyes sharply studied your face. She seemed to ignore Donna completely, which told you that she was here for you. “I would like a loaf of that please.”

“Of course. That’d be a shilling and two pence.” You looked to Donna. “Donna, could you wrap the loaf up for Mrs. Thorne?” From the corner of your eye, you could see the bear next to her glare at you, snout baring his teeth. “I’m assuming she has something to talk to me about.”

“Aye, I’ll do just that.” The monkey companion on her shoulder leapt off and scampered behind some cupboards, presumably to get some wrapping paper. “Don’t scare her off, Camlo.”

Your companion made a huffing sound as he nudged his face against your palm.

“I have no quarrel with you or your brothers.”

“That’s not what Tommy thinks.” She studied you as she held her son closer to herself. “Thinks you’re some big player in London.”

“He’s sorely mistaken. I’m just a friend of Alfie’s. And I work here. Baking.” You fiddled with Camlo’s round ears. “Not even the illegitimate type.” You sighed at the disbelieving look gracing her face. “I just want to stay away from all that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.” You flippantly said, and at that time, Donna handed you the packaged loaf of bread. “Here is your bread.” You put on a faux smile. “Have a nice day.”

Shelby’s sister grabbed the proffered bread and turned heel to leave, but-

“My soulmate’s guide was a large cat. A cheetah. My other brother’s soulmate’s guide is a lynx. Our mam’s guide was a bobcat.” You pursed your lips, not knowing where she was going with the random pieces of information she was giving you. “Our soulmates all have large cats as guides.”

“What is it that you want to say?”

But she exited the bakery, the small bell jingling as the door shut behind her.

“What is wrong with people from Birmingham?” You muttered to yourself, uneasy at the feeling of confusion that she left you behind with. “Confusing and self-centred, the lot of them.”

~ ♥~

Moss didn’t like Grace Burgess’ guide. Fuck, they didn’t like Grace Burgess at all.

They had met the other part of themselves. They had met the other part of Tommy’s soul. A large, black panther that batted them away before they could touch you. To complete the bond. He- Camlo- was about as unwilling for the soulmate bond to complete itself as Tommy himself was.

But what could they do?

Tommy was… stubborn. And he had decided that he would defy the idea of soulmates and destiny to marry Burgess instead.

She had become Grace Shelby, but Moss would never consider her one. That was one thing they agreed with Polly on. She would be the mistress of Arrow House, but she would never gain their respect or love.

Neither would that fucking hare of hers. The one that they never bothered to learn the name of.

The only reason they hadn’t bitten the botherful thing was because Tommy has warned them not to. But he had never mentioned anything about ignoring the other guide.

They didn’t like Arrow House anymore. So, they spent more time making burrows under the massive grounds of the estate. A labyrinth of their own making. A comfort away from the bitterness festering in their tiny heart.

Charlie- Tommy’s son- was… fine. Whilst they knew the kit wasn’t at fault, they couldn’t help but feel betrayed. It was normal, apparently. That was what John’s pretty said. But then again, she had also said that it all depended on how loyal the other soulmate was to the concept of their other half. Before the bond was completed, of course.

And unfortunately for Moss, you were strongly devoted to the abstract thought of your soulmate.

Burgess’ guide had attempted to get them to bond with Charlie, but they couldn’t. Moss just couldn’t, much to Tommy’s frustration.

But they hated it! Hated how everyone- not including the Shelbys, of course- assumed they were part of Burgess’ soul that guided him to her! They hated how many would make comparisons between them and her!

“Moss.”

They dug themselves deeper into the hay at Tommy’s voice. The stables were nice and the horses never really bothered them. They hoped he would just leave.

“Moss, fierce thing.” His tone was coaxing. Gentle. And Moss distrusted that immediately. He hadn’t been this gentle with them since their refusal to be in the same room as Burgess or his son. “Ankle biter.”

He hadn’t called them that in a while, either.

Slowly, they pulled themselves out of the strands of hay to see him in front of them, hand outstretched to let them settle onto his palm.

“Alexander is spending all his time with Charlie.” Moss rolled their eyes and nibbled at his finger. “Don’t you want to get to know me son?”

Not particularly. They had taken looks at the small kit and hated the fact that he reminded them more of Burgess than he reminded them of Tommy. The kit had a good eye though, and had clapped and squealed for them. The small field snake guide of his wrapped around his wrist.

They sniffed and turned their head away.

“Moss.” They bristled at Tommy’s hard voice, preparing to jump off and hide again. “What’s the matter with you, eh? It’s been two years, and Charlie’s almost one now.” They looked up at him, blinking at the striking blue eyes he had. “I’m happy, Moss. Can’t you be content with that?”

He could be happy all he wanted. They wouldn’t be. They would hide away and avoid everything.

“I can’t be happy if you aren’t happy.”

As if that had stopped him before. Hypocrite. They made their sentiment known by biting down at his hand.

“At least indulge Charlie, eh? His guide needs caring from both parents’.” He rubbed at their face with his finger. “Please, Moss. For me.”

They blinked at him.

Thomas Shelby never said please. Not to his family, not to Burgess, and certainly not to them.

Damn them and their bleeding heart. Damn you and your infinite fondness for a soulmate that didn’t care about you.

They nodded. For him. They’d endure all this. For Tommy and his happiness.

The smile on his face was almost worth the heartache they would inevitably feel.

~ ♥~

Camlo paced the hall, tail swishing back and forth in annoyance.

His other part- Thomas Shelby- was not a good man. Not in general, and certainly not for you. You, who dreamed of living a romantic life with your soulmate. You, who dreamed to languidly live out the rest of your life with your soulmate in the massive estate you would inherit.

The memory trickling to him made his dislike for his other part grow even further.

Married, with a cub, and posing as soulmates with this woman he had married.

You would be heartbroken. And you had gone through too much already. Camlo didn’t think you- or he- could survive another breakdown. The Asylum in Newcastle was not a good place, and the only reason you had crawled out of it in a year was because you were stubborn and strong and young.

“Camlo.”

Alfie Solomons’ snake guide slithered over to him as both their humans were drinking and talking in one of the reception rooms of the estate.

“Poppet.” He greeted, stopping in his tracks and lowering himself onto the wooden floorboards. “Not keeping them company?”

“We aren’t too far.” They hissed softly. “Is something wrong?”

“Thomas Shelby’s what’s wrong.”

“Ah.” They looked at the angry way his tail slapped against the floor. “Alfie did figure out that he was your human’s soulmate.”

“He doesn’t fucking deserve them.”

“You do realise that he is you, kind of. Right?”

Camlo regarded them coldly.

“God, you look exactly like him.” He bared his teeth. “Right. I take that back. Sorry.” They flickered their tongue a little uncertainly. “He… got married, right? Alfie got an invitation.”

“Aye.”

“Oh dear. What’re you going to do now?”

“Keep them far, far away from him. It’ll be better for them to keep a fantasy about their soulmate than have it all break apart.”

“But then they wouldn’t be able to move on, Camlo.”

“I don’t want them to break their heart just for that.” He turned his head away. “You wouldn’t understand, poppet.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But Camlo…” They hesitated briefly before continuing. “They need to make that choice. Not you.”

“I have to protect them. I couldn’t protect them physically, so I’ll protect their heart instead.”

“It’s going to blow up in your face.”

“It’s for the best. So drop it, poppet.”

The snake flicked their tongue at him and sighed.

“Fine. Do you want to hear about how Alfie’s business is going?”

Camlo placed his chin on top of his paws and nodded. You might not want to involved yourself in gangs, but he wanted as much information he could get his paws on.

~ ♥~

You were forced to attend the Shelby Charity Foundation Dinner by the explicit request of your parents. Originally, they had been the ones that were invited to this, but a last minute business meeting forced them to make you attend in their place.

You didn’t particularly like the Shelbys. And you certainly had no love for whatever front this all was, but it appeared that it was a good cause, so you would donate if they asked for it.

Camlo was far too tense for your comfort. Beautiful blue eyes flickering back and forth as he guarded you.

You noticed numerous eyes on you, a lot of them being Shelby eyes.

You caught the glance of one of the brothers- the oldest one, you assumed- and offered him a half-smile. He quickly tore his eyes away to slink next to a rather petite woman, who had an ocelot sitting patiently at her heeled feet.

You rolled your eyes and gestured for one of the maids to give you a flute of champagne.

You sipped at the drink as you propped yourself at a vantage point. A habit left from the war and the secret missions you had been on. You would observe your surroundings and the people, whilst Camlo would sniff out gunpowder.

The Shelbys were gang members. Danger would follow them, no matter what.

The moment you sniffed out a fight, you would flee. Go back to the safe confines of your home. Maybe call Alfie to talk about the chaos of the dinner and talk about the Shelbys.

Your eyes found several suspicious individuals walking about the event. Some were too jumpy, some were too at home. The jumpy ones were probably here to steal things, whilst the ones that were too comfortable were also here to steal things, but a little more prepared.

Camlo pawed at your foot. Twice.

A gun.

Which meant it was time for you to go. You had too many bullet holes in you already, and you would rather not have a brand new scar.

You placed your flute onto one of the empty tables and prepared yourself to leave, but…

You saw a gun being pulled out. You saw it being aimed at Thomas and Grace Shelby.

And you felt something in you- your soul, or your bleeding heart- jerk. It was at that moment everything clicked for you.

One, Thomas Shelby was your soulmate. Two, Camlo had been actively trying to keep you away from him. Three, he was married. And four, he was about to get shot.

You all but pounced at the gunman, grabbed a hold of the gun and slammed the barrel of it into your shoulder, clenching your teeth when you felt the bullet tear into your tender flesh as the man on the other end pulled the trigger in a blind panic.

There was screaming around you, but your eyes were on the gun man. Your attention was on him, and solely him.

He looked terrified. As he should be.

“No. Please.” There was an Italian accent in the man’s voice. “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I was meant to shoot Thomas Shelby’s wife.”

Hands pulled at you, but you felt them all step away at the rumbling growl of your companion. A furry, familiar weight rested at the back of your knees, simultaneously letting you stay standing and offering his support.

You blinked at him slowly as you released the barrel of the gun, and let it clatter onto the floor. Your palm was burning from the heat of the weapon and the pain in your shoulder was excruciating, but you were good with compartmentalising.

“Please, it was just his soulmate I was after-”

“His soulmate?” You asked, gripping at the man’s chin with your blood-soaked fingers. “Who, her?”

The man nodded furiously.

“Tell me. Does the rabbit look like an embodiment of that man’s soul?” The gunman glanced down warily at the black panther by your legs, and it was as if he was struck by something as he mouthed a ‘no’. “Hm?”

“It’s you. You’re his soulmate.”

“Try again.”

“Thomas Shelby’s your soulmate.”

You pulled back and reached down to grab the discarded gun. You cocked it and smiled.

Then, you pulled the trigger, uncaring of the new pain that blossomed in your gunshot wound as the recoil of the shot. You huffed out a sigh and threw the gun away when the gunman slumped to the ground, dead.

That was when you bothered to turn your attention to the group of people that surrounded you. Judging by the peaky caps on their heads, you assumed these were the infamous Peaky Blinders.

“Let’s go, baby.” You mumbled quietly, not liking how they were all looking at you. You would think about the realisation that Thomas Shelby was your soulmate when you went back home to lick your wounds. “We’ve had enough excitement for the rest of our lives, I think.”

“Wait a fucking moment.” You wrapped a hand around your bleeding wound as you turned to look at the eldest Shelby you had locked eyes with a couple minutes prior to things descending into chaos. “You-”

“You’re hurt.” Your soulmate- what a laugh- said, a hand twitching towards you whilst the other rested firmly on his wife’s back. “We need an ambulance here!”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” You said, rubbing at Camlo’s head as he licked at your blood covered palm. “It’s just a gunshot wound. I can handle this and…” you looked at the dead body “…that. Just-”

You paused, your vision spinning for a brief second.

“Huh. That doesn’t feel right,” you muttered to yourself.

And then you felt yourself go limp.

~ ♥~

Tommy let go of Grace to lunge for you when you crumpled to the floor. Moss appeared out of wherever the fuck they had been hiding before and scrambled to where you were. But they skidded to a stop at the massive cat’s snarl.

“Tom, the ambulance will be here soon.”

Your guide snarled at him. As if he was telling Tommy to let go. Or go away.

Possibly both. But he wouldn’t back down.

You had intercepted a bullet meant for Grace. You had stopped a tragedy from occurring.

Regardless of his utter distaste at the mere thought of a soulmate, you had helped his family. And he didn’t let debts go unpaid.

Your eyes flickered open as you gripped at his hand.

“Call Frank.”

“Who?”

“Camlo knows his number. He knows everything about me.” You smiled tiredly and your eyes drooped shut. Tommy slapped you. Hard. “For fuck’s sake-”

“Stay awake, you hear me?”

The giant black cat meowed and snarled at Moss, who was nipping at his paws in an attempt to drag him to the nearest phone. They chirped furiously as if they were arguing with the beast that was more the ten times their size.

“Hm. I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep this off.” A short silence. “If I die now, would this be the most romantic thing I did for my soulmate?”

“You’re not fucking dying.”

Tommy looked up to see Moss and Camlo clambering to the phone whilst Polly stood by to actually make the call. A gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and he quickly tore his eyes away from them to see Ada nod grimly at him.

“Big cats.” You said, eyes focusing on his sister. “That’s what you were trying to tell me.”

“A fat lot it did.”

You coughed and sighed.

“Their doctor’ll be at the hospital, Tommy.” Polly said, Gilderoy padding close to her, Moss planted firmly on the top of Camlo’s head. “And the ambulance is right outside.”

The whole mess that was him and you will be discussed at a later date. When you were on the mend.

~ ♥~

“I thought you wanted to live a quiet life.”

You groaned at Curtis’ unimpressed tone and fumbled for a pillow to chuck at him, only to be stopped in your movements by a familiar furry paw. You didn’t want to open your eyes, but forced them open anyway.

When you did, you were greeted with Camlo’s face and his rough, barbed tongue licking at your cheek.

“I do.”

“And yet I get a call from the Peaky Blinders and the man who calls himself the King of Camden.” Your friend- and a tie from your time in the War- shook his head. “If this is your version of a quiet life, I don’t want to know what would have happened if you chose to live a more hectic one.”

“I’d be dead.”

Camlo growled in a warning manner at your nonchalant tone.

“It was a close call, this time.” You furrowed your eyebrows. It was just your shoulder. “The bullet shattered inside you. One of the shards nicked your brachial artery.”

“Oh.” Your companion settled himself against your side, placing his head onto your abdomen. “Oh.”

“Yeah, you idiot. I know you wanted to do something romantic for your soulmate, but dying for him is not worth it.” A pause. “Especially when he already has a wife.”

Something in you panged with grief.

You had always wanted a romantic soulmate. You hadn’t wanted what your parents had, even if they seemed happy enough. But you guessed that wasn’t possible.

“When can I leave?”

Curtis said your name sharply, similar to the way he spoke to you when you came back from your kidnapping and subsequent torture years ago in the War. You pursed your lips and pouted.

“Then at least move me to a hospital closer home.”

“What makes you think this isn’t near your manor?”

“Curtis. I’m not an idiot. I remember talking to the Shelbys and I doubt they’d allow for me to be moved away from them. Especially not when I told everyone there that I was one of their own’s soulmate.”

“I don’t think they’ll let you leave, no. We could get Frank to fight them on it, considering how pissed he is already…”

“Frank should not piss off a gang member, not when he has Maria and his children to worry about.”

“Your parents could pull some strings if you really want to leave.” Curtis’ guide- a small terrier that sat primly on his lap- turned his head to the entrance of the hospital room, which made both you and him look in the direction. “Mrs. Gray.”

It was an older woman, with a hound plodding by her feet. Camlo shifted defensively, putting himself in between you and this stranger.

She nodded at Curtis but soon focused her studying eyes on you.

You ran a reassuring hand down your companion’s fur, frowning when you realised how rough it was. The healthy sheen it almost always had was gone, and you made a note in your head to feed him and pamper him properly the moment you were out of this bed.

Curtis said your name.

“- you okay for me to leave?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” You patted Camlo’s body. “Have my own bodyguard here.”

“You do, don’t you?” He grinned at you before getting up from the chair next to you. “Yell if you need me.”

And like that, you were left alone with Mrs. Gray, who took the seat of your friend.

You forced yourself from squirming under the inquisitive look she was giving you, as though she was picking you apart. Assessing you.

Camlo raised his head to butt his head under your chin, and you felt yourself relax slightly as you pressed a gentle kiss onto the top of his head. You wrapped your good arm around him to feel him fully against you.

“His name. What is it?”

“Camlo.”

She laughed, which made your companion bristle harshly.

“Gentle? Beautiful? Ha! Not a really fitting name for a part of Tommy’s soul.”

“He’s both those things. Not Mr. Shelby.” You quickly added the last sentence at her incredulous look. “Him.” You rubbed at his ears gently. “He was my only friend for a long time, Mrs. Gray.”

“My nephew’s married.”

“I know.”

“You got shot for his wife.”

You sighed heavily.

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go back home. Lounge about the manor, maybe call Alfie to not kill anyone.” You gently scratched Camlo’s cheek. “Maybe I’ll travel.”

“Or you could stay here.”

“In the hospital?”

“No.” She arched an eyebrow at you. “In Birmingham.”

“What for?” There was no need for you in the city. And it wasn’t like there was much to do there anyway. “There’s nothing for me there.”

“You’re Tommy’s soulmate. Which means you’re family.”

“He has a wife.”

Mrs. Gray waved you off.

“She isn’t liked by any of us. Betrayed my idiot nephew but his cock did his thinking for him.” She leaned to grasp the hand of your bad arm, ignoring the warning snarl that left Camlo. “Stay for a little bit. Just long enough to get to know us.”

You hesitated.

“If you do, I’ll convince the hospital to release you soon.”

“Okay.”

Anything to get out of the hospital sooner.

~ ♥~

Tommy didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t often that he didn’t know what to do, but he really didn’t this time.

Whilst he had known that you were his soulmate the moment he saw you in Alfie’s bakery, he had never given you thought until you took a bullet meant for him. For Grace.

Moss was eerily quiet. Not making a single chirp. Not biting him or nipping at him like they always did. They instead balanced themselves on his shoulder, knowing that he needed their support in these trying times.

He loved Grace. He really did. But the pull he felt for you wouldn’t let him ignore you completely.

That was why he was here, in the middle of the night.

He took in a deep drag of the cigarette from his place on the chair by your hospital bedside, his guide on his lap as your own was settled on the bed, preventing him from seeing you completely.

Grace had told him that she would be taking some time away, now that he had found his soulmate. His soulmate, who she couldn’t hate, because you had taken a bullet meant for her, after all.

Tommy reached out to touch you, but-

“I’ve always wanted to meet my soulmate.” Your voice stopped him. “Didn’t think it would end up like this though.”

“How did you think you would meet me, then?”

“I don’t know. Something simple. At a bar or a club or something.” You shifted slightly so that your face peeked from behind the massive cat. “But considering how terrifying Camlo is, I did think that our meeting wouldn’t be normal.”

“We did meet before.”

“Yeah, Alfie’s bakery. I remember.” You tried to push yourself to a sitting position but gave up soon. Slowly, and careful to not touch your guide, he helped you upright. “Thanks. I just didn’t realise you were mine until the dinner.”

Moss jumped from his lap to the sheets of your bed, playfully batting at your guide’s paw. Tommy remembered the last time they had come close to him. And he tensed, worried that the cat would bat at them again.

But the cat didn’t make a move to do so.

“Why then?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Shelby. Instincts, I suppose.” You looked at your guide, an exasperated look on your face. “Or maybe I just picked up on what beloved here knew from that first meeting of ours.”

He didn’t know what to feel about the fact that you called him Mr. Shelby but called your guide to him your beloved.

“I don’t want a soulmate.”

A wry smile played on your lips.

“I can tell. That’s fine. My parents are soulmates, but they’re more friends anyway. I just wanted something different from them.” You leaned down to rub your cheek against your guide. “I have Camlo, and honestly, that’s enough for me.”

“That enough, eh?”

“You’re married, Mr. Shelby. And you have a son.” You said, voice deceptively calm. But Tommy could pick up on the slight tremor in your words. “I won’t be someone you have on the side. I have too much self-respect for that.”

He took another drag of his cigarette.

“Go back to sleep.”

~ ♥~

The Garrison was a nice pub. Filled to the brim with Peaky Blinders, yes, but Harry was nice. The older man had allowed you a glass of rum which you were nursing at the moment.

You did feel eyes on you. Or well. On Camlo.

The fact that you were Thomas Shelby’s soulmate spread like wildfire. Which was to be expected, considering your dramatic reveal of that fact. People took one look at the black panther that was your companion and gave you a wide berth.

It was… refreshing.

Normally, people parted for you because of your family name, not because of who your soulmate was.

Camlo seemed to acknowledge these eyes as he stopped cuddling you out in public, and only indulged you when you asked for it.

“Baby.” You cooed out, your hand resting on the top of his head. “Come up for me.”

The massive feline stretched for a little bit before yawning. His fangs flashed under the dim light of the pub, and yet you could hear murmurs of awe surrounding you.

You grinned when he pounced up to settle himself on your lap in one of the few booths of the place. He made a low chuffing sound as he placed his chin on your shoulder.

Birmingham was Thomas Shelby’s city. So it made sense that people wouldn’t know you as much as they knew him. It was demeaning, actually. You were worth more than Shelby Company Ltd, or Alfie’s bakery. You were the sole heir to your family’s name and estates.

A small budgie flew over to the table and chirped at you, eyes looking at you rather distrustfully. A cat jumped onto the table as well, nearly knocking over your glass of rum. You watched as both guides froze at Camlo’s warning growl.

“Mr. Shelby.” You greeted the older brother with a nod. “And Mr. Shelby.”

“Arthur.”

“And I’m John. None of that Mr. Shelby shit.” The younger one said, chewing on what you assumed was a toothpick. “You’re Tommy’s soulmate.”

“Appears so.” You arched an eyebrow when the two Shelby brothers shuffled into the booth. “Both of you met your soulmates, I assume.”

“Aye.” The eldest Shelby said, as he gestured for the barkeep to send over more drinks. “John boy here found his through one of Tom’s plans.”

“He didn’t bet on it, but it worked out. Esme’s pretty.” The younger Shelby smirked. “And a pretty good fuck too.”

His cat guide rolled her eyes and batted at him in a reprimanding manner.

A brief silence ensued as you slowly sipped at your drink whilst the barkeep set a bottle of whiskey and three glasses onto the table. You tilted your head in confusion. Why three?

“For you, if ya want to stop drinking that shit.”

“I’m not here for business, I’m afraid.”

“Piss off.” The elder Shelby said, shaking his head. “We’re not in fucking Camden. Whisky and rum are both for fun and fucking.”

“And what the fuck’s with your talking, eh? Posh and proper like Tom’s wife?”

You scoffed, running a hand through Camlo’s fur. His ears twitched as he blinked at the two men in front of you. You ignored the way the two of them exchanged a look and several sentences in a language you weren’t familiar with.

Romani, you assumed.

“I’d rather not be compared to her. Or her family.” You said, allowing bitterness to tinge your words. “She worked secret services in the War, but only went on the ‘safe’ missions.” You found it easier to talk to soldiers. Easier to talk about the War and what it left behind. The shell-shock, the hate, the utter distaste for the crown. “I didn’t. I’ve shot, I’ve been shot. Tortured, done the torturing…” You laughed blithely and rubbed at the scar running down Camlo’s eye. “Served the King and promised myself to never serve a man again.”

“That right?”

“Yes.” You drained the rest of the rum and pushed the empty glass away. You reached to grab an empty glass and smiled when the younger Shelby poured you the whiskey. “Threw my medals in the river and never looked back.”

“I can see why ankle biter’s like that.”

“Ankle biter?”

“Tommy’s guide.” At the older Shelby brother’s words, you sifted through your memory and remembered the small stoat that had jumped for you back in Alfie’s office a couple of years ago. “A feisty thing they are. Bit every single one of us at least once.”

“‘Though they be but little, they are fierce,’” you said, quoting what your longest working tutor had told you.

“Aye. Tiny little thing that kept everyone in check. Even Tom.”

“Until he decided to fuck and marry Grace.” The younger Shelby said, with what you assumed was a little bite. “Haven’t seen much of them after that. Wouldn’t even nip him.”

You decided to stay silent. You hadn’t seen much of your soulmate or his guide since that night at the hospital and if you were totally honest with yourself, you were relieved by the fact. You didn’t know how to talk to him.

Instead, you took a sip of the whiskey, letting the bitter alcohol quench your throat.

Thomas Shelby didn’t want a soulmate. You wanted one. A conundrum was what you were in. You would lose to his whims though. The one who loved more always lost.

Camlo cared for you. But he had always been stubborn and had gotten you to do what he wanted you to do. That relationship would be the same between you and your soulmate. He’d be pushy and would decide things for you. With the excuse that it was ‘for your own good’.

“What’ll you do tomorrow?”

“Hm?” You were pulled back into conversation by the younger Shelby. “Oh. I don’t know. Probably see if there’s any horses about.” You curled your arms around your companion. “Baby here likes them.”

“Baby?”

The two Shelby brothers broke into a fit of laughter, which made everyone in the general vicinity to look at your booth. You rolled your eyes and squished Camlo’s cheeks as said companion regarded you with an unimpressed look in those striking blue eyes of his.

“Ignore them, love. They probably can’t believe you’re this soft and gentle.”

“Soft and gentle-” The younger Shelby guffawed. “Hear that, Tommy? Soft and gentle my arse!”

You stiffened and slowly turned around, locking gazes with the familiar yet unfamiliar blue eyes of your soulmate.

~ ♥~

Tommy never liked destiny. Never believed in it, much to Polly’s frustration.

He liked being in control. He couldn’t sit still when things spiralled out of his carefully put together plans. He liked making his own choices. Making his own decisions.

Maybe he grew to love Grace because she was his choice. Fully his. Not influenced by shared pasts or guides. And just as he had chosen her, she had chosen him too. Charlie was the result of that.

He understood why Grace left to visit her family in Ireland with Charlie. She had things to think about, just as he did.

“Camlo is a sweetheart.” You said, tilting your chin up defiantly. Just as Moss did when they wanted to argue with him. Said guide glared at him before licking your cheek. “And affectionate.”

His guide was perched on his shoulder and they chirped into his ear before nipping at his earlobe.

“Moss is fierce. Near feral.” He felt his guide bite down harder, but he was used to this. “I can’t remember the last time they were affectionate with me.”

They chittered annoyedly, as though they were telling him that it was his fault.

“You probably deserved it.”

He saw John and Arthur grin at your unimpressed words. You looked away from him and scratched at the cat’s chin. Your guide leaned heavily into you and made a sound very similar to how John’s guide purred.

You were familiar to him. And in a way, you were. Moss had grown up with him, and their biting, fierce personality is what you would have been, if you were born into a family like his. Your guide’s possessive, yet affectionate personality is what he would have been, if he was born into a family like yours. 

Tommy didn’t want a soulmate. Never had. And he didn’t believe in destiny.

But maybe, destiny was what allowed him to dig out of the mud. Maybe…

“You looking for horses?”

“Have you been eavesdropping?” Tommy arched an eyebrow at you. “Of course you have. It is your pub, after all.” You looked at him, your eyes flicking to Moss. “But yes. I am. Camlo likes them.”

Of course he would.

“There’s a stable at Arrow House.” He said slowly, watching as your expression shifted into one of confusion. “I’ll show you the horses I own.”

“Mr. Shelby-”

“I’ll send over a car.” You squinted at him distrustfully, which made him sigh. You were about as untrusting of him as Moss was. “My wife and son are visiting her family.”

“I’m not going to fuck you.”

“I don’t expect you to. It’s a friendly visit.”

“Nothing more?”

“Aye, nothing more.”

~ ♥~

Camlo might like horses, but you were more afraid of them. So when he languidly lazed about the stabled stallions and mares, you kept your distance away from them. You would never have expected a big cat as him would keep the skittish prey animals at ease, but…

You looked at Thomas Shelby, who murmured and eased the horses with startingly tender touches and reassurances.

He must have felt your eyes on him, because he snapped his head to you.

His companion- the stoat- chirped and scrambled out of his pocket to bound over to where Camlo was. Your companion simply let them paw at his tail as he settled himself next to one of the black horses.

“Not a fan of horses, eh?”

“They scare me.” You admitted as you fiddled with your fingers. “They’re too big, and what if they trample me?”

Your soulmate raised his eyebrows at you, and you picked up on the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“They’re more afraid of you than you’re of ‘em.”

“You might be right. But… I’m never getting on one. Ever.”

“Did you not have any horses in that manor of yours?”

“There was a stable, but I never rode any of them. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever had the courage to touch one either.”

He scoffed and gestured for you to follow him with a small nod.

You hesitated momentarily but tagged along, your fingers snapping once to signal to Camlo that you needed him. And in that instant, you felt a comforting warmth weave in between your legs with your every step.

“He’s obedient, isn’t he?”

“Camlo?”

“Aye.”

You shrugged as you watched Moss scramble up the leg of your soulmate’s trousers and up his shirt. They somehow managed to clamber onto the top of his peaky hat in the span of a couple of seconds.

Your soulmate didn’t seem at all bothered by the little beast and looked very accustomed to their actions.

“We have a system. From our time in the war, you see.”

“You served in the secret services. Many dangerous missions, from what I’ve gathered. Intelligence, assassinations, reconnaissance… Your family needed you to serve.” He stopped in front of a large, white horse. “There’re records of you being kept in an asylum a year after the war ended. Shell shock?”

You pursed your lips, refusing to say anything, but your soulmate called you by your title and family name.

Camlo growled lowly, picking up on your discomfort.

Anyone else would have gone on to another topic. Anyone else would have been intimidated by the beast you had for a companion.

But… Camlo was a part of Thomas Shelby. And he always took what he wanted.

“It was an intelligence mission gone wrong.” You eventually started, when it was more than apparent that he wouldn’t continue the conversation. “Shitty information from another spy on our side. I was held and tortured for plans and information for days.” You attempted to keep the memories of that time at bay. “When I wouldn’t speak from a beating, they went onto… other methods.”

“They fucked you.”

At his direct words, you felt the edge of your lips tug upwards in a half-hearted smile.

“Unfortunately, yes. Cut all their cocks off though in my escape.” You brushed a hand against Camlo’s head. “Beloved here helped.”

“Give me your hand.”

Confusedly, you offered it to Thomas Shelby and shivered slightly when you felt his rough fingers wrap around the digits of your hand. He gently placed your palm onto the snout of the white mare.

You stood there for a while, your soulmate’s hand on your as you stroked the animal.

“I was a tunneller. In the war.” His voice broke the tentatively comforting silence that had ensued. “They were looking for men with small guides. Moss fit what they were looking for.”

“The reason why I was on active duty was because Camlo was intimidating and dangerous.” You didn’t dare to turn to see him. Instead focusing on the mare in front of you. “Do you have dreams, Mr. Shelby?”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do.” Sometimes, they were vague. Only the utter helplessness and fear that engulfed you. Most times, they were specific. Like you were back there again. “I can feel it. The air of that time, the men, the tools-”

“I hear pickaxes from inside the walls. Banging. Clanging.”

“Opium helps,” you offered, all too knowing of the voices and sounds that you could hear but didn’t exist.

“Aye, it does. Moss doesn’t like it when I use it though.”

“It is bad for you. That’s why I only use it when the dreams won’t let me rest.” You pulled your hand away and twisted around, so that you were looking Thomas Shelby in the eye. “Camlo doesn’t mind.”

“Of course he wouldn’t.”

Oh, if only you had met this man sooner. You were connecting to him. And you felt rather comfortable with him. Like you had known him for years. You could read the unsaid words in his sentences. Could pick up on the small changes of his expression.

“I was saving myself for my soulmate, you know.” You said, melancholy washing over you. It had been the most romantic thing you could think of, at your age. “But all that was worth nothing, in the end.”

Thomas Shelby’s grasp onto your hand tightened, and his blue eyes blazed with a fury you had occasionally seen in Camlo’s own. It was possessive. Dark.

“But I did do something as romantic, I think.” You mused, as you pulled your hand away from his, offering him a half-hearted smile. “I saved the woman he loves.” You cleared your throat and stepped away from him, suddenly aware of just how close you were to the man. “Come on, Camlo. I think you’ve had your fill of horses for today.”

Your ever protective companion followed as you turned your heel, not sparing a glance to your soulmate.

~ ♥~

Grace leaving him was something Tommy had expected.

They had chosen each other, yes, but… he knew that she realised that now that you had fully embedded into his life, his sole attention wouldn’t be on her. And that she knew that even if the marriage were to continue, it would be strained.

That day in the stables told you what he needed to know about you. And he liked what he learnt.

It wasn’t a friendly separation, but it was an amicable one, nonetheless.

Soulmate laws made it easier for it to happen, and so did the influence both Grace’s family and yours had in high society.

She had, however, taken Charlie with her as she was the mother and considering Moss’ indifference to him as opposed to Alexander's embracing nature… It made sense that she took him.

“Stopped fighting destiny have you, Tommy?” He took a deep drag of his cigarette as he looked at Polly, who had a very smug look on her face. “I told you that I read it in your tea leaves.”

Moss chirped happily and scampered to chitter at Gilderoy, their tiny paws tapping at the dog’s snout excitedly.

“They’re a feisty thing, just like Moss is.” She said, ignoring his silence. “And considering Camlo’s obedience to their every word, it won’t be long before they have you by the balls.”

“Pol, you are getting too far ahead of yourself.”

“Maybe then they’ll be able to stop you from making stupid plans, eh?”

Tommy glared at his aunt.

“Where are they now?”

“Camden.”

“Why? Oh, don’t tell me- they went to see Solomons?” He took a deep drag of his cigarette. “And you haven’t followed them?”

Moss made what he assumed was an agreeing chirp.

“Go home, Pol.” Tommy put out his cigarette on the ashtray and stood up. “I’m going to London meself.”

“If you don’t put a ring on them soon, it won’t just be Moss that’ll have your neck.” He looked at her in an incredulous manner. “They made quite the impression on John and Arthur.”

“Moss.” He leaned down to let them scramble onto his palm. They trilled happily and affectionately nibbled at his fingers. “Fierce thing, you prepared?”

His guide nodded and bounced enthusiastically.

~ ♥~

“Apparently, Tommy’s wife up and left him. I don’t ‘pose you know anything about that, pretty thing?”

Alfie poured the third glass of rum into your empty glass as you blinked at him slowly.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Well, you see… you got shot for him- a fucking mistake on your part, I think- and then you spent the past couple ‘o months in that shithole of a city, and your calls were far and few in between.”

“You know me, Alfie. I’m a romantic at heart.”

“For Tom fuckin’ Shelby, though? He hasn’t scared you off?”

You rolled your eyes at his jabbing questions.

“No.” You shot him a wry grin. “He’s like Camlo. Gentle. Kind. Beautiful.”

Alfie guffawed at your words, eyes growing wide with disbelief and utter amusement.

“You’re the only fucking person that would think that. And they call me mad. Pretty thing, you must be outta your mind.”

Thomas Shelby was beautiful. Haunting blue eyes and a jawline that kept you up for a good chunk of the night.

“I honestly didn’t think he’d separate with his wife though. He said he didn’t want a soulmate.”

“That’s what all men think until they find their soulmates.” Alfie said, leaning back against his chair. His guide hissed softly and wrapped themselves even tighter around his shoulders. “Fuck whoever comes their way before they stumble into their soulmates. If he’s lucky, he isn’t married yet ‘cause he don’t have a babe. If he’s unlucky, the poor wife gets left behind as he fucks off with this soulmate.”

You shrugged in half-hearted agreement.

“Which one are you then, Alfie? Lucky or unlucky?”

“What do you think?”

You studied his bearded face.

“Lucky. You enjoy the pleasures of the flesh- be it man or woman, or someone that’s neither.” You teased, tracing the edge of the glass with your fingertip. “But that luck is what you made. You’re cautious, even if you convince people otherwise.”  You grinned at the look on his face. “I know you as well as you know me, my friend.”

“Yeah, you do, don’t you?” His hand- rough and callused- grasped at yours. “I’m telling you, pretty thing, if he hurts you, I’ll fucking shoot him. Business be damned.”

“Oh, Alfie.” You placed your other hand to cradle your friend’s fingers in your own. “If he hurts me, you’ll have to shoot a corpse.”

Camlo made a snarling sound in agreement.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re fucking right. Forgot for a moment who I was talking to didn’t I? Hm. If you get sick of his wily ways, a job’s always open for you.”

You patted his hand.

“Thanks, Alfie-”

“If you don’t invite me to your fuckin’ wedding, I’ll come and raise a riot. Tom left me out the first time, but he can’t do that this time. Not when you’ll have him wrapped around that pretty finger of yours.”

“Fuck off.”

~ ♥~

You shivered as the cold air of the London night brushed at your cheeks.

It hadn’t been dark when you entered the bakery, but after a while of talking to Alfie, looking through some accounts for him, and threatening some of his men, it was nearing midnight, it seemed.

Camlo pressed himself against your thighs as you shivered in place, his massive form and fur offering you some warmth.

But-

Something dropped on your shoulders.

You blinked, a little confused, at the sudden coat that was on your shoulders. And then-

“Mr. Shelby?”

You were twirled around, and were face to face with the striking blue eyes of your soulmate. Cheeks flush with red- from the cold or from something else, you didn’t know- and hair slightly tousled. His peaky cap was nowhere to be found.

His stoat companion leapt from his shoulder and into your hands, and for a brief moment, you wondered if Camlo would stop them again, but…

They landed on your open palms, trilling happily as their small claws dug into your flesh.

You looked at your soulmate and saw the way he gingerly stroked the top of Camlo’s head. And your companion silently rubbed his cheek against the leg of his trousers.

“Tommy.”

Your face broke into a smile as you gently held Moss in your palms.

“Tommy.” You repeated, before offering him his companion again. “I thought you didn’t want a soulmate.”

“Aye, I didn’t.” He said, as he took Moss from you, placing them on his shoulder. Camlo came back to your side and butted his head against your leg affectionately. “But destiny won’t let me free.”

His words were cold, but you were used to interpreting the unsaid in Camlo’s behaviour. Thomas Shelby wanted you in his life. Not in the way your parents wanted each other in their lives. But in the way you had dreamed of since you were a child.

Worry hit you though. Your experience during your missions-

“Marry me.”

The previous train of thought stopped in its tracks, and you blinked at him. He… probably knew how to read you as much as you knew how to read him.

“What?”

“Marry me.” Tommy repeated, both hands cupping your waist. “Why wait, eh? It’s going to happen anyway.”

“Mr-” You paused at the look he gave you. “Tommy, you just separated from your wife.”

“I don’t care.”

“Do you even have a ring?” You squinted at him when he dug through the pocket of his trousers to pull out a small box. “I hope that you aren’t reusing what you gave her.”

“Polly would have my head if I did that. So would Ada.”

“Ada- Ah. Mrs. Thorne.”

“Marry me. I won’t ask again.”

You laughed when he pulled you flush against himself. He was earnest. Sincere.

“Okay. I’ll marry you.” You tentatively placed your own hands on his waist. “As long as you promise not to complain about high society bullshit I’ll be having you attend with me.”

Tommy grinned. A boyish charm gracing his normally solemn face. And that made your heart skip a beat.

And before you knew it, you felt his lips crash against yours, swallowing you with a hunger and lust that you had never been on the receiving end of. You had read about it- had heard stories about it- but you had never truly experienced this.

Your fingers curled around his waistcoat and-

You pulled back, breathless and panting.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You said, shyly hiding your face into his clothes. “By the way.”

“Aye, love.”

You felt him grab onto your hand and slip something onto your ring finger. You pulled away and saw the piece of jewellery on your hand. You then turned your attention back to Tommy.

“Do you have a hotel room booked?” he asked, as he tugged the coat tighter around your shoulders.

“My family has a townhouse in Soho.” You gingerly slipped your hand into his and stifled a laugh at his expression. “My family’s estate is much, much larger than what most people imagine.”

Tommy didn’t say a word, and instead squeezed your hand. Moss, however, trilled happily from his shoulder before slipping into the pocket of his waistcoat.

You and Tommy walked into the night, your heart swelling with expectations for the future you would share with your soulmate. And even though he was a hard man to read, you could tell that he was planning for the future too.

Whether it revolved around a mundane one with you or around how he could gain more wealth and power with your family’s influence, you didn’t know.

But as long as you were in it, you wouldn’t mind so much.

[shookyungsoo]

love and warmth | kim mingyu

ミ★ synopsis: in which you blackmail your employee, mingyu, to marry you in order not to get deported back to canada due to your expired visa. [based on the proposal]

ミ★ genre: fake relationship!au, editor-in-chief!reader, assistant!mingyu, humor, fluff, some angst

ミ★ warnings: suggestive at times

ミ★ word count: 14,868

ミ★ pairings: mingyu x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! this is my longest oneshot to date oh god i wanna projectile vomit. it’s literally 4:44 am i’m gonna HURL this took me like a week to write i’m fucking crying it shouldn’t have ended up this long aaaAAAAA but i hope you guys still enjoy !! make sure to give mingyu lots of love !! and to remember that this is not realistically accurate, but i tried my best and did a lot of research on immigrant visas badabing badaboom. 

UPDATE: i just edited/deleted some parts of this oneshot because they were taken directly from the movie and i didn’t wanna make it seem like i was taking credit for them !

Keep reading

[shookyungsoo]

CLOSER

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.9k

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

"God, you actually made a slideshow?"

"You literally asked me for this," you groaned, "Now, stop talking and pay attention."

"This slideshow looks like shit. How are you even graduating?", he couldn't help but add.

"Anyways," you hissed back at him, "This is a step by step of what the plan is, okay? We'll go slide by slide."

He nodded, amused but also having given up on arguing.

The first slide showcased simple text detailing the following:

Step 1 - Kissing

He immediately burst out laughing.

"Stop!", you swatted the pointer you'd been using to point at the screen at him, "Let me talk before you laugh!", you demanded.

"Is 'removing our clothes' going to be on the slides too?", he laughed, holding onto his stomach from what apparently seemed to be the funniest thing to him.

"Moving on," you ignored him, clearing your throat and beginning the short speech you had prepared, "I've kissed guys before, which you know. But kissing and kissing during sex are two very different things," you explained.

"How would you know?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking, you fucking-", you stopped yourself before you could insult him, knowing he was just riling you up.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You can move onto the next slide," he conceded, though you could still spot some amusement on his face.

Step 2 - Oral (both ways)

"How is me giving you oral going to help you learn to have sex if you're not doing anything?", he asked before you could even speak.

"Are you telling me you don't do oral? That's very Dj Khaled of you."

His eyes widened as he backtracked, "W-what? No! I love doing o- wait, no. I'm not talking about this," he stumbled over his words, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Plus, there's no need to teach you oral. Any guy would cum at you getting on your knees for them," he added without thinking, immediately shutting himself up upon realizing what he'd said.

Even from the place you were standing, and with the distance between you and the couch Wonwoo was sitting on, your reaction at his words could easily be noticed by him. You were both equally sheepish at his slipup, causing you to both look away in embarrassment.

"What I meant was-"

"No, uh, I get it, I-"

"Uh, maybe move onto the third slide?", he coughed out, clearing his throat.

"Yeah- yeah, sure."

Step 3 - Foreplay

"Okay, so you did add removing our clothes as a step."

"These are completely different things," you rebutted, having completely moved on from the previous awkwardness.

Suddenly, he stood up, taking your pointer from you and setting it down.

"Okay, you can stop with the slideshow," he said.

"Why? What's wrong with my slideshow?", you argued.

"Well, for one, it doesn't actually have any useful information in it. Two, these are all natural steps to sex that I don't need a recap on," he took a breath before continuing, "And three, I don't need any more convincing. I'll help you."

"What? Really?," you gaped at him.

He nodded, attempting to be nonchalant about it, "I mean, yeah. I was always going to help you, just needed to think it over a bit more. We're friends and I don't want you feeling lost on your first time, or getting taken advantage of by some asshole, so," he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, far too enthusiastic for the subject at hand, but mostly just thankful for his agreement.

"Thank you, Wonwoo. God, I was so nervous I'd have to find some random guy on tinder," you mumbled against his chest.

Tenderly hugging you back, he hummed at your statement, slightly annoyed at the implication of some random guy taking your virginity, but not verbally expressing that annoyance.

"When do you want to do it?", he asked once you'd pulled away.

"Is, uh, is Wednesday okay? I know you only have Tuesday-Thursday classes this semester," you offered.

"Yeah, that's good. Do you want to do it all at once or-"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, not wanting to say the words, as the thought of it was already getting to him. He gulped silently before continuing, "I mean the, uh, oral and the kissing, and whatever else you had on that slideshow."

"Oh! Uh, well, what do you think? Should we just do it all at once?" you asked with a newfound innocence in your eyes.

It occurred to Wonwoo that you might have been even far more inexperienced than he had first thought. This was something you'd never spoken about too in depth, but now that he really thought about it, maybe the reason why your slideshow was so simple and childish had been because of a genuine lack of knowledge in the matter. Now he wasn't sure whether he should simply sleep with you or actually show you every step necessary to ensure your pleasure and his own.

"We can take a day for oral and hand stuff," he huffed out, "and then we can use that new knowledge for foreplay before we, you know."

He felt like the virgin at his lack of ability to utter the word sex under this context.

"A-ah, okay. That sounds good," you blinked up at him, "What about ... Uh, what about kissing?", you added shyly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. Never mind," you created some extra distance between you, timidly looking down in embarrassment at your question.

It made Wonwoo feel like shit that his simple question had made you ashamed at having asked one of your own. He needed to resolve this quickly. Sex was clearly a sore subject for you, he didn't want his teasing to actually make you feel badly.

"No, tell me. Please," he grabbed onto your arm so you'd look at him again.

"Well, I- Fuck, this is so embarrassing," you chuckled humorlessly at yourself before finally looking back at him, "I've never been kissed like that before. I was, uh, hoping that you could teach me? So I know what to do then we actually, you know."

Similarly to him, you were too shy to actually speak the word out loud, though you both knew exactly what you meant. The heavy air in the room only confirmed it.

"Oh," he breathed out, "I can ... teach you now, if you want."

The word 'teach' had him feeling lightheaded. Thinking about directing you, holding you close to him as he took his time showing you everything he liked – everything that would have him thinking of you every lonely night after the fact – as you obediently nodded under him, it all made an animalistic feeling arise within him.

"Yeah? Okay, how do we-", you began, nodding as you eyed the room to see where would be the best place to do it.

Wonwoo stopped you before you could actually wander off, holding onto your elbows and pulling you to him. They naturally slid down to your hips to position you against him.

"Here is fine."

Those were his last words before his lips descended onto your own, eyes so hooded they were almost fully closed. The kiss was very soft in nature, with it being almost just a simple peck before he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

"You've been kissed like that before. Right?", he mumbled.

You nodded, head tilting upwards as you shyly attempted to incite him into reconnecting your lips.

"I'm going to show you how you should kiss a guy if you want him to ... you know," he explained, breathing heavily into your mouth at the mere thought.

Barely managing to nod again, your lips were encapsulated by his own once more, this time engaging in a wet kiss, mouth immediately invaded by his tongue.

In retrospect, Wonwoo made the kiss more sensual than he intended to. There was an extra layer of intimacy than he would usually allow when he kissed someone he considered a mere hookup. But how could he kiss you like he would a hookup when you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable as you stared up at him? Having to hold back a gruttal groan as he kissed you, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips to center himself a bit.

At some point your tongue shyly came out to play with his own, making a timid attempt of mirroring his movements. The kiss became slightly messy, but that's just how Wonwoo liked it, causing a few muted grunts to sound out into the otherwise quiet room.

Wonwoo's hands came up to your jaw, angling your face in a way that would allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue at the optimal angle, suckling into your own and drawing pretty whines out of you. It was easy for him to tell that you were becoming affected by the mere kisses, making his mind fuzzy in return.

He could only hold on so much before he began walking you back, eventually landing against a wall and pressing you up into it, hands going back down to your waist to press your body up against his own. The atmosphere of the room became heavier, just as his movements. Hands gripped your waist and your chests pressed together. Your back arched deliciously as one of his hands landed on the small of your back, making your breasts rub against his hard chest.

A groan involuntarily slipped out of Wonwoo's lips at the feeling of your pebbled nipples digging at his chest. Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra.

In the meantime, your hands pulled at Wonwoo's hair, becoming rasher in their movements by the minute. You fed off Wonwoo's reactions to the pulling of his hair, pulling extra hard any time he grumbled into your lips a little louder.

His hands remained in the same general area of your waist and lower back up until one of them braved their way down to your thigh, going as far down as the back of your knee to wrap your leg around his waist, causing your crotches to make the first contact of the night.

Gasping a shuddered breath, Wonwoo disconnected your lips and began kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at spots he had a feeling would have you gasping his name. This, accompanied by a hesitant grind of his hips into your own, awarded him the prettiest gasps landing against his ear.

"Wonwoo ..." you sighed, "Is this- Am I doing a good job?" you asked, tilting your head back to nudge his lips against your own again, landing some soft yet wet pecks on his lips.

"So good," he nodded with a kiss, "Such a quick learner," were his last words before starting another long series of languid kisses between you.

Hips became braver, – both yours and his – filling the room with the sounds of clothes ruffling and muffled sighs in between wet swipes of your tongues. His large hand angled your leg even higher, angling his cock right against your cunt in a way that had you breaking the kiss as you gasped his name. Wonwoo did not allow you to pull away, however, simply opting to lick into your open mouth and entice you into continuing the kiss.

"Wonwoo, I can't, I- Fuck, I need-"

"Shhh," he hushed you, "I know, baby. Just keep moving your hips, okay? Let me show you all my favorite things," he whispered against your skin, not daring to halt the friction that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants.

"Is this- Is this what you usually do when you kiss a girl?", you asked, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck to his heart's contentment.

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, knowing he never let passion take over him so quickly with any other girl. He let his lips trail back to your own in order to prevent himself from having to speak further, but also because he couldn't stray away from you for too long.

He was sure he'd never forget those soft breaths you left against his lips any time he'd reconnect them, wordlessly expressing how affected you were by what he considered to be such a small gesture – or at least what he previously thought it to be, up until he kissed his best friend on an arbitrary Saturday morning.

As badly as he wanted to keep your lips attached to his own, he was beginning to feel his self control slip through his fingers the more he humped against you. The more he did so, the less finesse his movements had, forcing him to bury his head on the crook of your neck and groan into your skin. His hands went down to your legs, starting to drag your hips against his own and freely grunting at the stimulation. His sweats and your shorts were both thin enough for him to feel the heat of your cunt, fully aware that if he looked down, he'd find a mixture of wetness on the cloth from his precum and your slickness.

"Fuck," he sighed, "You feel so fucking good ..."

"Am I, shit- am I making you feel good?", you managed to squeak out.

Wonwoo's mind melted at the way you sought out his approval, looking to see if you were making him feel as good as he did you. Were his pathetic moans not enough indicator of how godforsakenly affected by you he was?

Then he remembered you had no point of reference to understand how intimate and heated this moment was – how the dragging of his cock against your clothed folds could so easily become his undoing.

"You're doing so fucking good. Gonna make me cum, fuck," he breathed, making his way back to your lips, "Need you to cum for me first, though. Okay, pretty? Are you close for me?", he mumbled in between heated kisses.

"So close," you were barely able to respond due to Wonwoo's insistence on keeping his lips on yours.

"A guy should always make you cum first, understand? If- fucking shit," he grunted out when he felt you beginning to pulse against him, an entire separate heartbeat forming on your cunt, "If he doesn't, he's not worth it. You come first. Okay, baby? A-always you."

The mere thought of some other loser even hearing the cute, breathy gasps you were letting out made him fume, but he couldn't get into that while you were almost on the verge of breaking down for him. He needed you to at least know what type of guys to fend away from, but he also wanted to show you how he could give you exactly what a man should – that he would always prioritize you and your pleasure.

You nodded mindlessly, completely out of it yet absolutely absorbed by the pleasure, "I need- Fuck, Nonu ... I need to cum. Please, I-"

"Cum. Be good for me and cum, pretty. I'm right there ... Fuck, gonna make me cum in my pants," he wheezed out, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when your nails dug into his skin as your orgasm took over.

Wonwoo came the second he felt you come undone, having held back from far too long in order to prioritize you – something he would always do. A mixture of emotions took over as his body underwent the immense pleasure your clothed cunt had given him. A sense of pride undertook him at knowing he had made you cum undone completely untouched. Any shame he could've felt at cumming in his pants like a horny loser left him as he took in every gasp and cry of his name as you held against him for dear life.

Burying his head in your shoulder again, he whispered words of praise and encouragement into your ear all while his hips continued their canting against yours, damning any sensitivity he may have felt due to the overstimulation. His brain was fuzzy at the pleasure, but his instinctual need to make you feel as good as humanly possible overrode any other thought in his mind.

By the end of it all, all that could be heard were your heavy breaths. Holding onto each other, you forgot about anything surrounding the bubble you currently found yourselves in. Seeking your lips again, Wonwoo gave you one last languid kiss, humming into your lips in contentment at the thought of what had just happened.

"That's, uh, that's usually how kissing goes when you're going to have sex," he explained.

He suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed at how easily he had lost control at a simple touch of your lips. — He was supposed to merely kiss you, not defile you through your clothes against the wall of your apartment!

"Oh- Okay, that's good to know," you murmured whilst looking down at your feet timidly.

At least he wasn't alone in the feeling.

Finally creating some distance between you, he chuckled humorlessly, clearing his throat.

"Sorry if that was too much," he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No, that was perfect- I mean, thank you! No, wait, I mean, that's exactly what I needed- fuck," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment at being unable to find the right words.

It was mind-boggling how easy it was for you to provoke adoration out of Wonwoo when you had just been the primary source of his lust mere moments ago.

"It's okay, I understand," he went to remove your hands from your face, looking at you with a smile, "Do you still want to meet on Wednesday?", he asked sheepishly.

"For oral, you mean?", you asked so innocently, completely disregarding the implication behind those words.

Coughing out as air caught in his throat, he cleared his throat before being able to respond, "Y-yes, it's- it's whatever you want."

"Well ..." you started, "You don't have classes on Monday, right? Maybe we could do it then? You know, so we don't have to drag this out too long?"

Oh.

Was this just something you wanted to get over with?

That made sense, considering that this was all simply a favor you were asking from Wonwoo. That knowledge still didn't prevent Wonwoo from feeling let down by your words, however.

At the end of the day it didn't make that much of a difference when you did it, but he couldn't help but have this sick hope inside him to prolong this as much as possible; maybe even do repeat 'lessons' if necessary. Especially when he knew that the moment he actually slept with you, you'd go out into the world and find someone else to do the things he taught you with.

There was a reason he had originally been apprehensive about your proposal. He knew that the mere second he had your eyes staring up at his with anything more than platonic feelings in them, he'd fall even deeper for you–

Right, did he forget to mention he was in love with you?

It was a controllable crush. He knew how far his feelings could go, so he never tested his luck with you. He also had far too much love and respect for you as a friend to ever overstep any boundaries outside of the limits within your friendship. This was why he had been initially adamant about denying you. He knew that there was no way to keep his heart out of it, but he also knew that there was no way for him to resist such opportunity, which was why he ultimately said yes.

So for now he had to make the best of it.

Was it selfish? Maybe. But he would also be helping you out along the way, so maybe it was more of a selfless act in the end. He'd be the one getting his heart broken, after all.

"Yeah, sure. You can come over to my place on Monday," was his response.

"Might as well get this over with," had been what he added as an afterthought, not taking note of the emotion changing in your eyes.

"Hey."

Wonwoo attempted to adopt a casual demeanor as he welcomed you in, hoping you didn't take note of how much he had pampered himself in preparation for you (Maybe aftershave plus cologne had been a tad much).

"Hi, Nonu," you responded, clearly way more relaxed than he was.

It was almost as if he was the virgin about to get deflowered.

Walking in, you made yourself at home, walking past him and immediately sitting on his couch. It was common for you to be at his apartment, so this visit wasn't anything out of the ordinary thus far.

Up until you spoke up.

"I might've gone overboard with preparing myself for tonight," you suddenly said, grimacing at yourself in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

You were wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized top; very common outfit for you. Sure, you looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly what you meant by overly preparing yourself.

"You'll see," was all you said, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch.

Closing the door of his apartment, he walked over to you, taking a seat and facing you on the couch. Although he had sat at a slight distance from you, you had scoot over to him immediately, facing him as your knees graced against his own.

You smiled shyly at him, eyes not fully meeting his own as you seemingly tried to think of what to say.

"How- how should we start?", you finally asked.

Wonwoo took a breath, "What do you want me to show you today? Was last time helpful to you?"

"Yes!", you immediately responded, cringing at your own enthusiastic answer, "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like such a loser," you chuckled awkwardly, "But it did help me. I feel way less nervous about it all now."

"What's making you nervous?," he shuffled closer to you.

"Just ... You?", you started, "You're already so experienced and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you or ... not make you feel good," you mumbled the last few words.

That took Wonwoo for a loop. 'Not make him feel good'? Had you seen yourself? Had you seen him just two days ago? He was a mess of himself at the mere feeling of some amateur dry humping. He was the one who should be nervous at the thought of your finally seeing your open legs in front of his face.

He chuckled sheepishly at you, "There's no way you could ever make me not feel good. I don't know if you want to hear this from me, but, you're so fucking gorgeous. Any guy, and I mean any, would kill if you gave them the time of day. You don't even need any of this 'training,'" he said with air-quotes, "There would probably be a line full of guys itching to get a chance to be with you; to take your virginity," he ranted, knowing he was doing himself a disservice in vying for other guys, but needing you to know how impossible it'd be for you to embarrass yourself when you were so you; so seductive and mind-boggling without even realizing it.

"Oh," you breathed out at his praise, clearing your throat right after to recover, "But I only trust you," you said, putting your hands on his, "I only care what you think and how you ... how you teach me," your eyes looked into his, wide and innocent.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you anything you want," he swallowed a deep breath, breathing through his nose, "Do you ... Do you want to start with what I taught you the other day?", he decided to get the ball rolling.

You nodded silently, surprising him when you suddenly went to straddle on his lap, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down slowly, placing your lips on his.

The two of you hadn't discussed yet what exactly you'd be doing today, but getting your lips on his seemed like a necessity for Wonwoo at this moment in time. It was the most important thing to him with the current fogginess in his mind.

The kiss became heated quickly. It seemed like you had some trouble building up the tension and instead gave the kiss your all right away. Either that, or you simply felt equally as affected as Wonwoo and needed to portray that through your kiss as soon as possible. That might've been wishful thinking, but Wonwoo kept his hopes up.

His large hands wrapped around you, holding onto your ass and gasping when he felt you begin to move, digging his nails into your plush hips to guide you. It was all happening too fast, but he had no complaints. Not when you were somehow grinding so expertly against him all while breathing the cutest sighs into his mouth.

"Like this? Is it like this, Wonwoo?", you asked into his mouth, whining when he decided to lick at your tongue as you spoke.

"Yes ... Such a fast learner. So fucking good," he breathed, dragging your hips against his own.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled you closer, planting his feet on the ground and matching your movements. Your leggings and his basketball shorts were thin enough for him to pretend they weren't there, feeling all the heat you were forming between your bodies and groaning at the friction.

Wonwoo suddenly gasped into your mouth when he felt an intrusion between you, only taking him a moment to realize that your hand had snuck down and began feeling him up to find his cock, slowly halting your movements. He let you fully slow down, groaning when your hand enveloped him through his shorts.

"Will you teach me how to make you feel good? Want you to make you cum with my hands, Nonu," you murmured between wet kisses.

He went to heaven and came right back at your words. Your voice was so shy yet so sensual, making his brain override with lust. He had to take a few moments to answer, or else he would've only been able to offer you a pathetic whimper as an response.

Despite having slept with many girls before, having almost each of them put their hands on his cock just as you were doing, none ever made him feel so desperate and depraved. Neither did they cause the warmth in his chest the same way you did.

"Anything you want," he mumbled, head completely empty, "Let me- let me take off my pants, okay, pretty?"

You moved to the side for a moment, allowing him to remove his pants and boxers as you watched with your bottom lipped trapped between your teeth. He could've sworn he heard you sigh when his cock was finally out in the open, but there was no way to confirm it.

"Shirt too?", you requested, staring at him with eyes he just couldn't deny.

Throwing it off, he immediately pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips again and again. You kept whining into his lips, hands coming to his chest to feel him up, crying out into his lips any time you'd make contact with hard muscle.

Wonwoo knew you liked his physique, – you'd told him so many times before – but having you be so affected by his body had him on a high. This would only feed into him and cause him to go even harder at it next time he hit the gym. Bulking up out of his own volition suddenly went down on his list of priorities, being dethroned by a need to have you needily feel him up just as you currently were.

Next thing he knew, your hand went from his chest, down to his abs, landing on his aching dick.

"It's so big ... Is it supposed to be this big?", you asked against his lips, a petulant tone in your voice.

There was no way you didn't know what you were doing. Was there? Were you really so fucking inexperienced and pliant for him? Or were you simply trying to put his restraint to the test?

One look into your eyes responded those questions for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and there was a look of wonder in your face. You seemed worried about his size, but also ditzy with desire for him – just like he was for you.

"It's okay ... Just, just wrap your hands around it, yeah? I'll take you from there," he instructed, pecking your lips once for reassurance, "Y-yeah, just like t-that, fuck ..." he huffed, "Now ... just twist- yeah, fuck, that's it ..."

"Like this?", you asked, wide eyed and pouty, jerking him off almost perfectly. You were shy in your movements, but you were still causing Wonwoo to lose track of how to breathe properly.

"Yes, that's so good, shit. You're doing so good ..."

Suddenly, your other hand went down to his balls, toying at them shyly, gasping when you took notice of Wonwoo's chocked-out breath.

"Sorry! Was that-"

"Do it again ... Fuck, do that again," he grumbled, attempting to keep his voice low.

Silently, you followed his instruction, continuing to use both hands to jerk him off and play with his balls. You bit your lip, giving him Wonwoo a look of unadulterated lust he had never seen from you. His best option at that moment was to close his eyes and lean his head back against the back of the couch. If not, he'd be forced to watch you and further lose his mind.

Only a few moments later, Wonwoo felt a sudden wetness against his nipple, making him hiss. You had brought your head down to his chest, lips kitten-licking at his nipple, teeth occasionally scraping it when you took notice of his shuddered breaths at the action. You were making Wonwoo a complete mess of himself, and he had no ability to stop you – you were taking over all his senses.

"Baby ... You're gonna m-make me cum. Being so fucking good for me," he sighed, "Such a good fucking girl," the thought was rotting his mind. You were being so fucking good for him; making him feel good. No one had ever felt your touch in such a way, only him.

"Nonu, please cum ... I'm so fucking wet, I need you so bad," you whined into his chest, "Need you to show me how you'd make me feel good," you added as an afterthought. Wonwoo knew lust was taking over you, and it exhilarated him.

"Cumming, f-fuck," he had completely blanked on getting something to cover himself with when he finally came, which was why it came to his surprise when you brought down your lips to the head of his cock, wrapping them around it and softly sucking as he emptied himself out.

"Fuck, so good- so fucking good. Pretty girl so fucking obedient and, and good for me, f-fuck. Don't even have to tell you to- to lick me clean. Making me lose my mind ..." he rambled, eyes rolling back at both the feeling and sight of you sucking his dick throughout the entirety of his orgasm.

Having emptied himself out, you took him out of your mouth, using your fingers to wipe at any leftover cum on the side of your lips and licking them clean. Wonwoo could not stand that image for too long, dragging you in for a sad excuse of a kiss that mostly consisted of his tongue sucking at your own, attempting to steal his taste from your mouth. Sighing into his lips, you somehow ended up on his lap again, hips immediately grinding against his sensitive cock.

He couldn't bring himself to care about how sensitive he felt when you were so visibly desperate for that friction, dragging your hips into his slowly-hardening cock, positioning yourself so you'd rub right against your walls.

Sadly, the feeling soon became too much, leading to Wonwoo pulling away despite your whines in defiance, "Need you to lay back on the couch, okay, pretty? Gonna take care of you now," he whispered into your lips.

You stopped whining and nodded, sitting back against the couch as he got up, now being the one to straddle you, though not putting any of his weight on you.

His hands ran up and down your body, trying to assess where to start. There were so many fantasies running through his mind, and not enough self control to enact every single one.

"Can I undress you?"

Nodding, you began doing it yourself, only to be stopped by him.

"The guy should be the one undressing you, okay, baby? He should take care of you in every way," he added, "I should've made you cum first today, but you insisted I teach you how to get me off," he tsk'd lightheartedly at you, almost as if scolding you for having caught him off guard, "But I'll make it up to you."

You giggled, "Okay, Nonu. I'll let you take care of me first next time," you agreed.

Next time. God, did he have plans for next time.

His hands made their way to your shirt, lifting it up as you raised your arms to assist him. His original plan was to move onto your pants immediately, leaving you in just your underwear all at once, but the sight under your shirt distracted him too much to even remember his name.

Seeing each other today for this reason had been a last minute plan, so Wonwoo was entirely unprepared for what was sitting right in front of him. He attempted to speak a few times, but just ended up closing his mouth right after, eventually leading you into a shy giggle at how dumb he must've appeared.

"Do you like it?," you bit your lip shyly, "I told you I might've over-prepared ..."

Sitting in front of him, you were currently donning the prettiest little sheer bra, accompanied by embroidered flowers on the cups, but still allowing him prime view of your nipples through the fabric. The color of the sheer piece suited you perfectly, making your nipples peak through in a way that had his eyes glued to your chest.

You had picked out some pretty lingerie ... just for him. Now he not only had to deal with the sight, but also the thought of you dolling yourself up just for him.

After a few moments of his silence, you called him out, making him snap out of his thirst.

"Fuck, is it too much? I thought- I thought you'd appreciate if I wore something pretty for you," you mumbled, shifting awkwardly at his lack of reaction, wrongly assuming that he was put off.

Fuck, did he have to be such an idiot? Why was he acting like he'd never seen breasts or lingerie before? You made him feel like he was an inexperienced virgin who was looking up tits online for the first time.

"No! Fuck, no, that's not it at all," his hands went to your cheeks, making your eye line match his, "You just surprised me, that's all," he took a breath, "You look insanely gorgeous, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

He closed the gap between you temporarily, gifting you a few pecks as he responded, "Please tell me it's a matching set," he pleaded into your mouth.

Your demeanor changed, giggling at him and shrugging with a bite of your lip, "Why don't you check?"

Determined, he helped you lift your hips as he dragged your leggings off, being rewarded with the sight of equally sheer panties, the almost transparent fabric giving him optimal view of your cunt, which was already glistening with your wetness.

"Do you want-"

Wonwoo would never know what you were going to ask, as he suddenly trapped you in a kiss, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you to lean against the back of the couch. Sighing into his lips, you followed his rhythm, letting out tiny moans when his hands went down to toy with your tits, rubbing and pinching at your nipples through your bra.

Whining and crying into his lips, you took over every single one of his senses. You were too perfect for him, making feel genuine distress at how badly he wanted you.

His hand slowly headed south, finding its way to your cunt, fingers beginning to rub at you through the fabric. Your desperate hips matched his movements, grinding into his hand as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every plea of his name.

"Ever touched yourself before, pretty?", he whispered.

Shaking your head, your cheeks warmed up, "N-never knew how. Never felt good," you murmured almost too low for him to hear.

This almost halted his movements, but he didn't want to risk your embarrassment growing over it, so he simply let his fingers go past the barrier of your panties, now rubbing you directly, though not penetrating your walls just yet. He wanted to hear more from you.

"No?", he coo'd, keeping his cool, "Have you- have you ever orgasmed?"

You took a short pause, kissing at his cheek and making a trail down to his neck to distract him. This only worked for a few moments (He might've gotten too distracted by your cunt), but after a few seconds he put a stop to his movements, only keeping pressure on your cunt as he made it so you'd look into his eyes.

"Baby? You can tell me," he encouraged.

"No ... My first orgasm was the one you gave me a few days ago, when we ..."

Oh.

Had it been-

Had your first orgasm been when he dry humped you against the wall?

Fuck.

A mixture of pride and embarrassment invaded Wonwoo's mind. On one side, he was incredibly mortified that he had taken your first orgasm by humping into you like an animal in heat. On the other, he felt like he was on top of the world knowing that no one, not even yourself, had ever drawn an orgasm out of you until he came along.

His body decided to go with the latter, immediately feeling his loins fire up with an immense desire to give you another orgasm. And then another, and another – up until you were sobbing under him.

He kissed you again before you could express any form of embarrassment, shoving his tongue in your mouth and finally digging his fingers into your cunt. The moans you let out against his lips were muffled by his insistence on kissing you. Your hands didn't know where to land, going from his thighs to his waist and finally halting at his biceps, nails digging into them at the pleasure.

Slowly, he angled his fingers in your cunt, pumping them with increasing speed while his thumb toyed around for your clit, staying stationed on the swollen bud upon finding it.

"Never touched your pussy like this, baby? Hmm? Never filled yourself up?", he practically taunted, reeling on the fact that he was making you discover all this brand new pleasure.

"N-no, Nonu. Never ... Feels so good, s-so full. Please don't stop," you whimpered, gasping when he began pistoning into that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"This is only the beginning, pretty. Gonna get you on my tongue next. Fuck, pussy's so warm and tight. Bet it tastes so good," he rambled, picturing his cock suffocating between your walls.

"Keep talking to me, Nonu. L-love when you talk to me."

— You liked his horny ramblings about your cunt? This was a match made in heaven.

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?"

You nodded with wide eyes.

"Gonna drive you to the edge of orgasm with my fingers," his fingers slowed down to emphasize his point, "and then I'm gonna rip it away from you," he chuckled when you let out a tiny whimper at the threat, "But don't worry, baby, then I'm going to lick you up, gonna tease you with my tongue til you're crying ... and then I'm gonna make you cum. Won't waste a single drop of your orgasm, pretty. Gonna lick it all up and make you suck it out of my tongue," he finished, out of breath whilst his fingers continued their torturously slow pace.

"Please ... Want- wanna cum. Just- you can make me cum twice ... Right? Just make me cum again, fuck, please?", you were a complete mess by the end of his ramblings, making his hardening cock become even more rigid.

He'd been dealing with his cock pressing up against your stomach this whole time, knowing that it was probably digging into you as it continued to harden at every whimper that left your mouth. After you'd sucked him off through his own orgasm, he knew he'd have to end up seeking another one after you left, except that task was becoming harder by the minute.

Despite his inner turmoil at his delayed pleasure, you were clearly still his main priority. Chuckling darkly at your desperation, he coo'd at you patronizingly, nosing at your cheek up until his lips found your ears, whispering filth into them.

"Wanna cum? Wanna be a greedy girl and cum on my fingers and then on my mouth?" he nibbled at your lobe, chuckling again at the desperate way in which you nodded. He pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, meanly speeding up his fingers so you'd grow closer to your orgasm, "Okay, pretty. You can cum for me. Been such a good girl for me ... Cum? Make a mess, hmm?," he encouraged.

With a mantra of 'thank you's' whispered into his ear, you tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you, forcing Wonwoo to develop an entirely new sense of self control to prevent himself from cumming along with you, intensely affected by the sight. His fingers played with you through your orgasm, up until you silently squirmed at him to remove them.

Satisfied, he pulled out your fingers and dragged them up to his lips, sucking them in a manner so depraved, he was embarrassed by the way you became bashful at the sight. He shrugged off the embarrassment, gathering more honey from between your legs and lifting his fingers up to your own lips, groaning deep in his chest at how obediently you sucked at them, making eyes at him while you gagged on his fingers.

With an impossibly hard cock, he struggled to get on his knees in front of the couch, but managed to just out of the sheer need to bury his head between your legs. His mind couldn't even allow him to give you time to recover before pulling at your legs, dragging you closer to him. You wanted to experience sexual acts in preparation for the next guy that caught your eye? Well, then Wonwoo would have to make sure to lift your expectations as high as possible, hopefully rendering you unable to find anyone who could ever bring you as much pleasure as he would. And he would start by suckling into your sensitive cunt until you cried.

"N-Nonu! Fuck, oh, God, just like that!" you cried in desperation.

He couldn't blame you. The way in which he had immediately latched onto your cunt and gone to town between your legs had been far too intense, not bothering to ease you into it nor wait for you to recover from your previous orgasm.

You sobbed and cried above him, fingers tangled in his hair as you pushed him further into your cunt, clearly too lustful to have any decorum. But did Wonwoo care for decorum? Not when he also didn't have any. Not when he endlessly groaned into your pussy, grumbling praise and pleas for you to use him to your heart's contentment. Any thought of this being a way to teach you what oral was like had been buried deep in the back of his mind. For now, you were his to invade with pleasure and nothing else mattered.

After digging deep within you with his tongue, he pulled away (despite your whines in complaint), pointing his tongue to flick at your puffy clit. You responded by grinding into him, mumbling pleas for more. At some point you had taken off your bra, Wonwoo realized as he took a peak above him, finding one of your hands toying at a nipple. The sight made him want to be buried alive. His cock was surely hard as a rock by now, and the need to grab you and fuck you into a mumbling mess kept growing by the minute.

The couch began squeaking when Wonwoo's intensity in eating you out increased, your grinding also becoming faster and more erratic. His hips joined in on the commotion, rocking against the foot of the couch in a pathetic attempt to find some friction. You took notice of this after a while, crying out his name.

"Nonu ... Fuck ... Is it like this? Is this- is this how it's supposed to feel?", you sobbed, "I can't- It's too much- too good, fuck, Wonwoo ... Please ... Wanna cum."

He wanted so badly to tell you this was not the norm. That no man would ever be as thirsty for you as he was. That no one could ever bring you this amount of pleasure nor worship you as much as him. But he opted to make you cry even more instead, rubbing his nose into your clit while he licked into you with an unquenchable thirst.

"It's that good, baby? Making you feel good?," he instigated you into more nonsensical babbles.

You nodded frantically, "Wanna- wanna try it on you ... Y-your cock. Wanna suck your dick, Nonu, fuck. Please don't cum ... I need to be the one to make you cum. Teach me? P-please?", you suddenly threw him a curveball with your pleas, causing his hips to still with a gruttal groan.

"Fuck, baby ... Want my cock? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, just cum for me, okay, gorgeous? Hmm? Gonna cum for me?", he mumbled into your cunt, groaning at your increasingly high-pitched moans.

You sounded so gone and desperate for him, it was making it hard for him to not continue seeking tension on his cock by humping the couch. But the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his cock while you asked him to teach you how to make him cum had his mind focused on a single mission.

"C-cumming, Nonu! I'm gonna- fuck, please, please, please," you whimpered in between gasps.

Intensely thirsty for you, Wonwoo sucked at your cunt through the entirety of your orgasm, licking at any cum that managed to escape his mouth up until you had to physically drag his face away from between your legs, earning a sheepish chuckle out of him at his pussydrunkness.

He climbed the couch back up, kissing you once again, pushing in any leftover cum in his mouth for you to taste. Harshly, you pulled at his hair as you licked into his mouth. It was amusing to Wonwoo how easily you'd gotten used to kissing him just in the way he'd taught you. It sent shivers down his spine thinking of how perfect you were for him.

"Want your-"

"I know, baby. Want my cock, huh? I'll give it to you, just ... Let me kiss you," he mumbled against your lips while his hand went up to play with your tits, thumbs swiping at your nipples.

Kissing him back with just as much need, the two of you remained like this for a few minutes, breathing moans into the other's mouth until losing your breaths. Wonwoo took this as an opportunity to kiss his way down to your chest, sucking at your tits with greedy moans.

It was borderline pathetic how much he wanted you. He had already cum once, yet his cock was leaking precum once again, swollen and aching for your lips around it again. He had only felt you wrapped around his tip, suctioning enough to swallow his cum, but he was yet to show you how to truly take him.

Wonwoo's sexual frustration got to him faster than he expected, leading him to yet another trail to your lips before whispering into them, "Are you ready, baby?"

Nodding, you swallowed in anticipation. He proceeded to sit next to you on the couch, far enough that you'd be able to reach his cock if you knelt on top of the couch and leaned down to his side. Repositioning you, he shuddered when you finally began to lean down, lips quickly approaching his cock. But you stopped before you could make contact, staring up at him nervously.

"How ... I'm not sure how to do it ..." you murmured.

He coo'd at you, placing a hand on your cheek, "It's okay, pretty. You can change your mind, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted, "Just ... Guide me?"

You began leaning down again, keeping your eyes on Wonwoo (something he knew would come to break him), silently asking for instructions.

"Just lick it first, okay? Then- fuck ... Pretty, shit, slow down ... God, fuck, just like that ... Shit, are you sure you need me to teach you? So fucking good already ..." he groaned when you began taking him in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and head bobbing up and down.

Your hands wrapped around what couldn't make it into your mouth while you pushed him in as far in as possible. Occasionally, you'd choke, pulling back enough to breathe properly through your nose, but you continued to suck him off to the best of your inexperienced ability. It was messy and filthy for you both, but Wonwoo enjoyed it all the more at seeing just how desperate you were to get him off.

"My pretty girl," he grunted, hands digging into your hair as he helped you bob up and down, aiding your rhythm, "My beautiful girl loves my cock, huh? So- so fucking thirsty for it. Making me lose my mind," he continued to ramble, too addicted to the moans you'd let out at his every word, vibrating around his dick.

He was far too pent up and sensitive to survive your mouth for too long. Having watched your orgasm twice whilst humping the couch had drawn him too far to his end before you'd even wrapped your lips around him.

"I'm gonna- gonna cum, okay, pretty? Need- need you to keep your mouth on me. Swallow it all for me? Hmm? Y-yes, shit, keep doing that," he encouraged, head dizzy at your moan of confirmation.

Sooner than anticipated, his high robbed him of any ability to think or breathe, too absorbed by the immense pleasure you were bringing him. His hips canted slowly into your mouth as he rode the wave of his orgasm, eyes rolling back at how willing you were to let him use his mouth for his undivided pleasure. Once more, you swallowed every drop, drawing embarrassingly loud groans from his lips as he threw his head back.

With a heavy breath, you took him out of your mouth, wiping your cum-stained lips with the back of your hand before being suddenly pulled into Wonwoo's lap with a yelp.

"Such a good girl," he groaned into your lips, trapping you in the nth kiss of the night. He licked at every inch of your mouth, seeking out his own cum from your tongue.

He still felt incredibly needy, but knew that another orgasm would render him useless for the rest of the day. You, however, were clearly too affected for him to stop. Deciding to provide you with another new form of pleasure, he positioned you so you'd straddle his lap, guiding your hips to grind on the length of it with your bare cunt, still soaked and begging for attention.

"N-nonu," you stammered with a breathy sigh, "Fuck, feels good ..."

"Yeah, pretty? Feels so good, huh? Keep grinding on it, okay, baby? Make yourself cum on my thigh," he murmured into your ear, nibbling at the lobe before kissing down your neck.

He silently enjoyed the feeling of your skin against him, while also eating up every single noise of unadulterated pleasure coming from your lips. Falling for you more by the second, he lost himself in the moment, entirely investing himself in your person.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea? Any guy would kill to be yours, fuck," he started, laying kisses from your neck to your ear, "Can't believe I'm the only guy to ever get you like this," he marbled.

"Nonu," you sighed at his soft touches, leaning into his kissed and moaning softly every so often.

"God, love this body so much ... Prettiest thing I've ever had," his hands explored your body, dragging your hips so they'd grind into his thigh with even more fervor, "Need you to cum again, pretty. Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?"

"Y-yes. Nonu, please ..."

"Only for me, right, baby? Only I get to have you like this ..." he practically whined when you nodded, rewarding you with his lips finding your nipples, nibbling at the hard buds and humming any time your moans would vibrate against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he instigated. He knew your mind was half gone in the pleasure of the approach of your third orgasm, but he needed to hear you say it at least once. He needed the fantasy to continue.

"Yours, Nonu. A-always yours ... Make me feel so good, fuck," you gasped, desperately humping into his thigh. He buried his face in your chest with a groan, far too affected by your reciprocation.

Did you mean it? Were you his? He knew it was all done and said in the heat of the passion being shared between you, but he couldn't help but take those words to heart. To save them and treasure them as if they'd been heartfelt.

Fingers tightening into the plush of your hips, he dragged you back and forth on his thigh, reeling at every gasp you let out at the feeling. He continued to wax poetic at you, letting out his most intimate of feelings for you under the vice of the pleasure getting to him.

You dumbly nodded along to every word, reciprocating every so often with a look like Wonwoo hoped was genuine. Falling against his chest, you found your third high of the night, mumbling 'thankyou's' as you kissed at his chest tenderly.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, somehow managing to fall into slumber on Wonwoo's couch, you lying above him while he held you in his arms.

Wonwoo woke up the next day to your absence and a lone sticky note on the coffee table in front of him, clearly a message from you before your departure.

thank u for last night <3 i'll see u on wednesday?

He chuckled at the message, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach at the memory of the night prior and the thought of what was to come. He knew that things would likely stop after Wednesday, – the day in which he'd finally take your virginity – but he decided he'd enjoy you as long as he had you all to himself. Even if there was an expiration date on it.

Surprisingly to Wonwoo, you never showed up on Wednesday, neither did you respond to his messages all through the day. It was common for the two of you to go one or two days without responding to the other, but usually not when you already had plans to meet.

Considering the nature of the plans you had that day, the situation had Wonwoo tremendously worried. It was even worse when he'd consulted other friends and found out you'd been in contact with them, only icing him out.

It was on Thursday that he grew frustrated. With his entire day being taken up by classes, he was unable to even go looking for you. His mind had been on you all day, rendering him unable to pay attention to any of his lectures or even touch any overdue homework that he had. Your silence had only lasted a few days so far, but he was already growing insane because of it.

It wasn't until the following week that he decided to go to you, with no prior warning informing you of his presence at your front door.

As he stood in front of your closed door, hand lifted and ready to knock, he felt absolutely terrified. Last time he had seen you, too many things had happened between you. From the handjob to the eating out to the oral, Wonwoo's mind wad fried with all the intimacy that taken place that day. Had he done too much? Or maybe he had been too obvious about how he felt about you. Regardless of the reason for your sudden silence, he knew it must've been bad.

"Wonwoo?"

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from his left – your voice. You were arriving from some sort of errand it seemed, seeing as you were carrying a large tote bag on each hand as you walked towards your own door.

"Y/N," he somehow managed to stammer your name, gulping at your presence.

You walked past him, opening your door and standing to the side, silently welcoming him in. Apprehensively, he stepped in, hands awkwardly in his pockets and his eyes stagnant on the floor.

Your figure disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments after you'd stepped in, coming back out bagless and standing in front of him in the living room. Wonwoo hadn't bothered to take a seat on your couch, too distracted by the endless thoughts of what was about to come.

"I ... I don't think I want you to take my virginity anymore," you suddenly spoke up, apprehensive in your tone and unable to meet Wonwoo's eyes.

His heart dropped at your words. He felt embarrassed by the tinge of disappointment arising within him, but also scared of what this truly meant for your friendship.

He scrunched up his eyes painfully before responding, finally looking up to look at you, "W-what? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonwoo couldn't help but take it personally, heart breaking at just a single sentence.

"It's not that, just ... Fuck, we took this too far, Wonwoo. I thought about everything that happened last time and ... it's too much," you said with regret in your eyes, "I shouldn't have ever asked you for this. I just- I felt like such a loser graduating college and still being a virgin, but I never should've made you do this-"

"You didn't make me do anything," he stepped towards you, wincing when you stepped back, "I ... We don't have to keep going, just ... What changed? Why- why have you been avoiding me?" He needed to know.

You hesitated, looking away and biting your lip with a pained look in your eyes. For a few moments you remained quiet, sniffling occasionally, letting Wonwoo know that you were likely on the verge of crying.

"I can't tell you," you practically whispered.

He had to force himself not to react to your words. The frustration within him was fighting to be let out into the surface. He couldn't deny that his feelings were hurt and that his ego was bruised at how lightly you were taking this. How could he have been the only one to make the mistake of putting his heart in it?

"Do you- do you think it's okay to just-," he tried, swallowing the vile forming in his throat, "How can you ask me to sleep with you and then just ... just ghost me? If you didn't want to keep going, I would've understood, but ... a week? I don't hear from you for a week after- after everything we did?," he mumbled the last part, embarrassed by how quickly he'd gotten emotional.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were going to teach me, and that was it," you started, a pained look in your eyes as they gradually became glassy, "But then, that second time, when we- when-" you cut yourself off, seemingly unable to continue. You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes, "It's better if we just stop here. I don't think we should talk about this," you sniffled.

"Why?", he pushed, "What does this mean for our friendship, then? Am I worth so little to you that you'd want me for sex and then just throw me away when you change your mind?", he took off his glasses momentarily to angrily wipe at the tears forming on his eyes. His anger and sadness were mixing together, creating a combination of emotions that resulted in the mess he felt himself to be.

"Wonwoo, you know it's not like that-"

"Do I? Do I know? Because what it seems to me is like you insisted I take your virginity, changed your mind – which is totally fine, but fuck – and then ghosted me. I thought we were friends- no, best friends. Was it that horrible that you had to ice me out? Are you just going to find some guy on tinder now? Was it- was it the things I said last time?", his tone shifted, unveiling his sadness, "Did I scare you away with everything I said? I- I was just caught in the moment, it didn't," he gulped, vile forming in his throat knowing he was about to deliver a painful lie, "it didn't mean anything."

You swallowed, looking down again and sniffling, "Yeah, I know," you whimpered. Your arms wrapped around yourself, making yourself as small as possible as you stood in front of Wonwoo. It then became evident to Wonwoo that you were attempting to self-soothe. Your eyes were now covered by a layer of tears, making them glassy, much like Wonwoo's.

"Y/N?", he asked.

You looked up, sniffing before connecting your eyes to Wonwoo's.

"Talk to me. Please," he pleaded with saddened eyes.

You mumbled something unintelligible to Wonwoo, making him take a few steps forward to encourage you into speaking.

Placing his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up to look at him, finding tear-stained cheeks and a defeated look on your face.

"I can't understand you, just- just please talk to me," he pleaded once more.

Your eyes continued to not meet his despite your current standing. Taking a deep breath, your hands went up to cup his own, which were still tenderly cupping at your cheeks.

"I like you ..." you started, quietly as you finally made eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed and pained at your own words, "I like you and I couldn't keep going when- when it meant nothing to you. And- and you kept being so nice to me and kissing me and touching me in ways I know meant nothing to you. But I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much what we did has messed with me," you rambled, your voice getting more frantic by the second, "I couldn't even look at you by the end of it all because I was terrified I'd end up telling you how much I-," you swallowed, "how in love with you I am," you admitted, "I never wanted it to get in the way of our friendship, but it all-"

Wonwoo couldn't listen to any more of your rambles before losing his mind at both the pain and irony of your words. His lips invaded your own mid-speech as he swallowed any other words making their way out of your mouth. His hands tightened around your cheeks, only making their way down to your waist when he felt you begin to return his kiss. Moaning in relief into your mouth, he sighed when he felt your tongue use this opportunity to seek his own. Emotions took over him, causing him to lose himself in the kiss, molding himself into you and swallowing every single sigh you let out against his lips.

Feeling the dampness of your tears grace his cheeks made him pull away, remembering the mess of emotions you had been just before he kissed you. The way your lips attempted to follow his own broke his heart, forcing himself to hold back from kissing you until you both lost your breaths. He needed to empty his heart out to you first.

"I love you. I adore you. I'm so fucking obsessed with you, it's been eating me alive," he rasped, lips making their way down your neck, "Felt like shit kissing you and- and touching you when I knew you'd just move on to some dumbass who could never deserve you," he grunted, frustrated at the memory, "How could you ever think I wouldn't love you back when you're so ... so fucking perfect? So made for me," he trailed off. Your sighs were just too distracting for him to deliver the heartfelt speech that had been itching to leave his lips since the day you first kissed.

He pulled away, now staring down into your eyes, hoping his words made it through to you.

"But ... You said you didn't mean it. That it didn't mean anything?", you murmured as he shook his head adamantly in denial.

"I lied," he rasped, "I didn't want you to feel trapped," hands reaching down to your own, he placed them on his chest, "Of course it meant something. Everything I said, I meant. Everything I'm saying right now is true. I love you," he emphasized, "You have to know that I love you," your hand was brought up to his lips, receiving a kiss.

Your eyes somehow watered even more, hiccuping out a gasp before pulling him into you, lips meeting passionately in between. Without any hesitance, he kissed you back, expressing every unsaid word through your meeting of lips. What had started as an exchange of innocent passion soon became a desperate demonstration of love, evolving into moans and sighs swallowed by one another.

Wonwoo felt ashamed by how easy it was for him to fall for his lust for you, but his body craved your own in ways he didn't think possible. Luckily for him, it seemed like you had the same issue, or at least that's the impression he got from how pliant you became in his touch, moans of his name instigating him into kissing and touching more intimately. His lips explored your bare neck, sucking love bites every so often and humming at every sigh leaving your lips.

His purposeful touches became more obvious, reaching down to your ass and up to your mounds to his liking. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling at it any time his touches made you particularly lightheaded. Shockingly to him, you mirrored him, exploring his body with your hands and making your way under his shirt, gracing at his torso.

You had been the first to take things further, grabbing at the end of his shirt and pulling it up. Following your silent request, he threw it off before helping you out of your own. Realizing you had been fully nude under your shirt, he let out a shuddered groan. His lips immediately trailed down to your breasts, practically slobbering all over the sensitive skin while feeding off your cries of his name. Reaching down to the back of your thighs, his hands lifted you up, aided by a small jump from you as you wrapped your legs around him.

Next thing Wonwoo knew, he found himself in your room, laying you on your bed before climbing on top of you and getting back to kissing you.

It was merely impossible to disconnect his lips from you, as your kisses kept drawing him in. He knew you'd been kissed before, but he liked to think that he'd been the first man to ever kiss you in such a way; a way that had you as addicted to him as he was to you.

"Nonu ...," you breathed out in between kisses, "I want you, fuck, please ..."

Wonwoo felt like the world was crashing in on him (in a good way). The groan he roared against your lips couldn't be helped as your words had an instant effect on him.

"A-are you sure?", his frantic eyes searched yours, hands caressing any bit of skin in his reach.

Nodding numbly, you repeated yourself, "Please, Nonu. I want you to be my first. I didn't mean it, I- I want you. I need you, Nonu. Please," you rambled, eyes filled with unrecognizable lust.

He hushed you softly, "Shh, baby. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it," he pecked your lips, "I love you. I'll give it to you, yeah? Gonna fuck you ... Love you so much," he trailed off, attacking your neck with kisses before momentarily getting up to remove his shoes and pants, leaving himself fully nude before you.

You stared back at him, shyly looking him up and down and biting your lip. The look you were giving Wonwoo tested all his self control. He wondered how much longer he could resist you without losing his sanity. But he persisted, having an intimate desire to give you the softest and most mind-blowing first time he possibly could. As much as he wanted to fuck you, his desire to make love to you overrode that need.

Nimble fingers traced down from your breasts to your shorts, dragging them off with the help of a lift of your hips. Along with your shorts went your panties, leaving a slight trail of slick he managed to get sight of before closing any distance between you once more.

Slowly, his fingers made their way to your cunt, rubbing at it softly and drawing a few hiccuped gasps from your lips. Your eyes remained connected, wordless as you communicated your lust to one another. He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, enjoying the intimacy of it all as you breathed into his skin.

"Nonu, fuck me," you whined a few moments later, hands pulling at him to somehow get him closer.

"Baby, I need to get you ready," he coo'd at your desperation.

You shook your head adamantly, "No, just- please. I've wanted you since that first day ... Wanted to break off our deal and have you fuck me since you kissed me," you revealed, wrapping your legs around his waist and attempting to push his hips down to your own.

"Baby ..."

"Please," you pleaded again, "I know you want me too. Fuck me," you murmured into his lips, aware you were breaking his resolve.

And his resolve was completely gone. Unable to hold back further, he kissed you again, readjusting his hips so he could grind against you, wanting to at least get you used to the weight and size of his bare cock before pushing it in.

After kissing you for a minute or so, he pulled back, "Condoms?", he asked in between wet kisses.

You shook your head, insisting he keep kissing you, "I'm on birth control. Just- just fuck me," you insisted again.

Leaning back, Wonwoo grabbed onto the base of his cock, running the tip up and down your swollen cunt, swallowing every gasp you let out at the barely-there stimulation. This only lasted a few moments before beginning to push it in, immediately burying his head in the crook of your neck at the immense pleasure taking over him.

He knew you'd be tight and warm and just fucking perfect for him, but nothing could've predicted how tightly your cunt would engulf him and rob him of his sanity. Every night spent thinking of you and punishing himself for wanting you as badly as he did was finally worth the endless wait to have you. Never did he once imagine that he would actually get to feel you, to have you become his and love him as much as he did you. Yet here he was, cock suffocating between your puffy walls while you gasped out his name.

"Feel so fucking good, angel," he managed to let out, "My beautiful girl ... Cunt's so fucking perfect for me ... Can't even move, baby, it's so tight," he rambled, high off his mind in pleasure.

You fared no better, gasping out nonsensical babbles of his name and digging your nails on his back, dragging them down as you left your mark on him. Your lips attempted to match the movement of his own, giving up when he defeated you in his incessant need to fuck into you.

"Tell me it feels good, baby," he breathed, "T-tell me you love me."

"L-love you so much ... Feel so good, Nonu. Can't- can't think. It's so good," you cried, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grew even more lustful at the mere sound of your broken voice. The knowledge that he was making you feel good beyond comprehension took him to cloud-9, speeding up his hips once you seemed used to the penetration of his cock.

Lifting up your hips, he angled himself perfectly to cant into you, managing to hit that spongy spot inside you that had you shamelessly wailing his name. Your tits bounced with every slap of his hips against your ass, making Wonwoo's eyes roll back at the sight.

But your wails weren't enough for him, he needed you to lose yourself completely, to forget anything that wasn't a mantra of Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. His hand snuck down to your cunt, toying around until he made contact with your swollen clit, rubbing at it with no mercy. Your gasps and screams of his name were his immediate reward whilst Wonwoo drank in the sight of your eyes rolling back.

"N-Nonu ... F-fuck! Need to cum, Nonu, please. I need to cum. Make me cum, Nonu. Please? Need you to cum with me, fuck," you rambled, unaware that he was at the very edge of his orgasm.

Your horny ramblings were enough for him to head face first into his orgasm, pulling you right down with him as his hips lost complete control.

"Cum with me, pretty. Let me fill you up while you cum with me, okay? Let me feel that cunt squeeze me dry ..." he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to not bust.

That's when your orgasm found you, stealing his sanity as his own followed yours. He let go of your legs and held onto your back, continuing to grind into you as he released inside you. With his face buried in your neck, he murmured love confessions against your skin, mind dizzy with love and lust.

By the end of it, your lips were meeting again, soft and languid kisses shared between you while words of affection were exchanged. After a few moments of this soft exchange, Wonwoo finally disconnected his lips from you, choosing to slip out and lay beside you as he nuzzled against you.

"Was that what you expected?", he asked with a bite of his lip.

"Maybe ..." you were shy in your response, "Might need to try again."

"Oh?," he giggled.

Giggled? Fuck, he was down horribly for you.

"C'mere, let me teach you some more."

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, foreplay, mentions of handjob, face riding, oral (f receiving), mentions of 69'ing, etc.

wc: 727 (teaser); 2317 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Exactly how experienced are you?", you had asked out of the blue during one of your 'dates.'

Having been best friends prior to the whole friends with benefits — but not really — situation led to a very natural transition between friends to lovers. Your current dynamic with one another was exactly the same as before, except now you each shared the privilege of calling the other theirs — and all the extra perks that came with having a significant other.

Currently, you found yourselves in a situation you'd grown entirely too familiar with throughout the years of being best friends — in your apartment as you cuddled up with a movie playing in the background. The grand difference at the moment had been your sudden question, making Wonwoo's heart rate increase drastically at the recollection of all his sexual escapades prior to confessing to you.

It's not like Wonwoo knew you to be a jealous person, but the mere thought of any woman who wasn't you just felt wrong to him after finally making you his. Even as he went through every relationship and fling he ever had, he had never felt a connection with anyone as he did you. Sure, he had had some great sex back in his day, but having been in love with you throughout it all, he knew it would've been impossible for sex to ever be as good with anyone else as it had been with you — the contrast in emotional connection was just too different when it came to you.

And so now he found himself unsure as to how to respond. Would you get jealous? Annoyed? He knew damn well that he'd wanna beat down any loser you'd slept with, but he felt lucky he didn't have to deal with that, having been your one and only thus far — though he still felt an irrational hate towards whichever fucker had taken your first kiss from you. These thoughts were far too irrational, Wonwoo was aware. He knew he was a hypocrite to feel such a way when he was the one who had a past of being a bit liberal when it came to his sex life, which was why he would've preferred to avoid the subject of his past sexual partners in general. It's not like he had a new person warming up his bed on a daily basis, but he had his fair share of girlfriends and occasional one night stand throughout his college days. This was something he'd hate to hear about coming from you, and he wanted to offer the same courtesy to you.

However, looking to you as you uttered the problematic question, he found no trace of negative emotions in your eyes. The question appeared to be born out of mere curiosity, not fabricated to create a rift or any sort of argument.

"I, uh, are you sure you want me to answer that?", was all he could come up with, shuffling on the couch to turn to look at you.

You nodded with a look of wonder in your eyes, "Yeah. I'm just curious."

"Uh," he continued to stammer, "I'm just not sure how to answer the question."

"Well, how many sexual partners have you had? Or, like, is there anything you haven't tried yet?", you mirrored him in his position, still sitting on the couch but now facing him.

The follow up questions were worse than the original one. Wonwoo had no idea of the answer to neither, which appalled him in retrospect. It's not like he kept a tally of every girl he slept with, nor did he have much recollection of every sex position he'd tried in the past — was there anything he had not done at some point?

You must've caught onto the wheels turning in his head, laughing at his expression before elaborating with your questions.

"Okay, shit. Is it upwards of ten?"

"Y-yeah, maybe," — it was probably over twenty, but you didn't need to know that.

"How about my other question? Anything you haven't tried yet?", you showed no reaction to his answer, so he allowed himself to ponder on a response to your second question.

Was there anything he hadn't done? Maybe something he'd fantasized about doing with you? Something he might've saved for the day he finally got the balls to- oh. That's when it hit him.

...

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[shookyungsoo]

Want You Back

If you’d ask Wonwoo if he regrets divorcing his ex wife, he’d normally say no. They’re on good terms and make a great team co-parenting. But there are little things that make him miss what it was like back then. 

Pairing: Wonwoo x female reader

Genres: mostly angst, a little fluff, a little smut, exes to lovers, second chance

Word count: 7k

TW/CW: MDNI, contains smut with no mention of protection. Discussion of unplanned pregnancy, birth complications, postpartum depression, and divorce. I tried to handle these topics delicately, but if they’re sensitive for you, maybe skip this one.

A/N: Wonwoo is so girl dad coded.

On Saturday morning, Wonwoo barely has time to knock on the door before it's flying open and a little body is flinging to his legs. Jieun is five and insists she’s not a baby anymore, but he still leans down and picks her up. She’s got pink, glittery ribbons in her hair and even a little bit of glittery makeup on her eyes and it makes Wonwoo smile. “Hi sweetheart,” he says, kissing her cheek. “Been into Eomma’s makeup?” 

She’s squirming out of his arms as soon as the door is closed behind him. “She did it for me! It’s for our daddy daughter day!”

“Well, I love it,” he says gently. “What did you want to get into?”

Jieun is thinking seriously. He’s seen that face before, but usually not on her. He’s about to get hit with a big ask. “I can’t pick between ice cream or boba. Or the park or the museum.” 

Okay. Not a huge ask. Wonwoo shrugs. “Why not all of it?” This elates Jieun and she’s sprinting for the door. A couple tongue click make her halt when her hand hits the door knob. 

“Shoes and coat, baby. It’s cold out.”

Wonwoo faces his ex wife. Y/N is dressed in comfy clothes for a day at home. Despite the light scolding, she looks entertained by Jieun’s excitement. Y/N smiles at Wonwoo. “She’s been up since 5am, yapping about the day with you.”

Her words aren’t spiteful at all, but sometimes he wishes it was. Maybe he’d know what to do with it then. Wonwoo slaps on a smile to hide his uncertainty. “So that means you’ve been up since 5am,” he says simply. 

Y/N rolls her eyes. “The princess wanted her hair and makeup done.”

“She comes by it naturally,” Wonwoo teases. Y/N has stepped closer to take a pair of sandals from Jieun and replace it with sneakers, but on the way, she shoves at Wonwoo playfully. He can’t help but laugh because he barely rocks on his feet at the force.

Once Jieun’s coat and shoes are in place and she’s been smothered in kisses, Y/N steps back. Wonwoo waits for the typical warning. “Be careful, drive safely, and don’t let her have too much sugar or else none of us will be sleeping tonight. You’re included in that. Call me if you need me.”

Wonwoo nods lightly. He’s never been offended by these reminders because he’s aware some men in his position might be reckless (and that might be the entire reason they’re in his position in the first place).  Y/N’s warnings don’t come from a place of lack of trust, but rather overwhelming concern for Jieun. “I think I got it, but you know you’re my first call. Relax today, okay? You’ve had a long week.” Jieun is tired of their chatting, and tugs hard on his hand towards the door. Wonwoo loads Jieun into the car and then glances back and waves to Y/N one more time before he gets into the car himself. 

~

It was over before it really began. They met at a bookstore approximately seven years ago. Wonwoo was debating on picking up the latest in a series he’d kept up with for years but had kind of fallen off the wagon for, and had even been flipping through the book to help make the decision when he heard a curse from the end of the aisle. He blinked repeatedly because it was clear the curse was directed at him and she was pretty. Really pretty. Y/N had frowned as she approached. “You wouldn’t happen to be buying that, would you? I think it’s the last in stock and I can’t find it anywhere else.” Wonwoo had made his decision pretty quickly after that, handing the book over to her, but not before starting a conversation. 

They’d hit it off quickly. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to ever be described as warm, at least not to someone that didn’t know him well. But Y/N was very warm and it did something to him. He laughed and smiled more. He was more emotional. He grew an appreciation for things he’d never cared much for, if only because he liked seeing her happy. 

And then came the surprise. Within a year of dating, they were pregnant. They were in agreement to keep the child, but they had a hard time agreeing on what things would like in this new life they were catapulting towards. They felt pressured to get married and it only seemed like a reasonable choice at the time. It was a small wedding, if only because Y/N had wanted to do it fast before she started showing much, afraid of the reactions that they might get if she was farther along in a wedding dress. They bought a small house and moved in together. 

The last trimester of pregnancy was Y/N’s personal hell. She was at a high risk for birth complications and no amount of bed rest made her feel better, mentally, physically, or emotionally. Wonwoo did the best he could to comfort her but he felt helpless. And then the birth… It was traumatic and Wonwoo had been asked at one point to make some hard decisions. Ultimately, none of that had mattered because both mother and child recovered quickly after a couple weeks in the hospital. 

But that experience had changed him and he didn’t know how to articulate it. Still didn’t five years later, really. So he was there, but not really. He got up to change the diapers and make the bottles in the middle of the night, but there was an insurmountable distance between him and Y/N. Y/N had been struggling with postpartum depression and was like a zombie most days because of the medications she was on. When Y/N had candidly asked him late one night if he was happy, he’d been honest and said no. 

He didn’t fight her on it when divorce papers were placed in front of him later that year. Jieun wasn’t even a year old yet. It was a peaceful separation because they really felt no bitterness towards each other and wanted to keep it that way for their daughter. Wonwoo eventually moved out to an apartment nearby, but he was present at the home they once shared at least a few times a week. He and Y/N split daycare runs and now elementary school runs. If one parent couldn’t take time off with a sick JIeun, the other would work it out. Somehow they made a better team when they didn’t have to think about what they were to each other. Their connection was Jieun and Wonwoo was fine with that. Most days, anyway. 

~

On Sunday morning, Wonwoo knocks on the door. It’s Y/N that opens it this time and she’s already scolding him to just let himself in because he has a key for a reason, but he shoves an iced coffee in her face. She moves out of the way, taking a sip of it. He can tell she’s judging it. “I know your coffee order, Y/N. I made sure they got it right,” Wonwoo huffs, lugging in a bag of dirty laundry. He hates using the shared laundry room in the dingy basement of his apartment complex and Y/N had insisted he just bring it over here for years. Today he’s taking her up on that offer because the machine here seems to eat fewer socks. The coffee is a bribe in case she’s suddenly changed her mind. Regardless, he starts a load before she can think to argue. 

Y/N slides him a plate of pancakes when he sits at the kitchen island. “Thanks,” he said simply. “Any plans today?” 

Y/N sighs. “I have to go get my car serviced. Check engine light came on a couple days ago and I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. I guess it’s good you’ll be here with Jieun?”

Wonwoo doesn’t glance up at her as he eats. “Leave me your keys. I’ll do it today. But next time, just let me know. We could trade cars for the day while I take it in.”

“Wonwoo, you don’t have to do that,” Y/N insists, frowning at him. She hates to inconvenience him, always has. It drove him up the wall when they were together and it still does from time to time, because she’s never once been an inconvenience. 

He stares at her for a few beats. “I’ll just take your keys, Y/N. I don’t want you or my child in a car that might give you problems.” 

When he’s putting his plate in the dishwasher, a keyring slides across the counter in front of his face. “Tell me how much it is and I’ll pay you back.” He knows she only gave in because he mentioned Jieun. He won’t be telling her how much it is and he hopes she forgets. 

~

It’s Wednesday and it was Wonwoo’s turn to pick up Jieun from school. Y/N is flying down the hall and to the front door and Wonwoo thinks it’s to scoop up Jieun - and it is, at first. When Jieun whines and squirms away from her, Y/N moves onto Wonwoo, gripping his elbows excitedly. “It’s here!” Wonwoo can’t help but raise an eyebrow and smile. The ‘it’ in this situation could be so many things. A cute magnet for the fridge. A new keyboard for her desk. A new blanket with some anime character printed on it. It takes so little to excite Y/N and it’s something that Wonwoo’s always loved. 

He lets her lead him to the dining table where she must have been working today. Her laptop is set up alongside multiple notebooks and a box. She whips something out of the box and puts it two inches from his face. Once he can finally see it, he gleams. “The advanced copies are here?” Y/N is a writer and has published a few works, but this one has been a labor of love that Y/N had asked him to beta read last year before it got sent to her publisher. He thinks she’d be his favorite author even without their previous relationship or shared child.

Y/N is grinning widely. “Yep. Open it!”

Wonwoo gives her a look before flipping a few pages. He knows what’s coming because she’s done it for each printed work so far. The title page is always left blank save for the printed text, because she prefers to sign the dedication page for his copies. Wonwoo’s eyes water a bit behind his glasses because he’s mentioned in this one too, just like the last three, along with a kind handwritten message. He can’t spend too much time looking at it now in front of her but he will later. He closes it and admires the cover. “This is great, Y/N. I’m still buying a copy though.”

Y/N gasps. “Why? You’ve already read it. And you always get the first advanced copy.”

Wonwoo shakes his head in entertainment. “Y/N, I preordered it weeks ago. Another copy is coming either way.”

Y/N huffs. “Wonwoo, what you already do is enough. You don’t have to do that.” 

This is an old fight, one that’s come up every time she’s published something since the divorce. She thinks he still purchases her books because he wants to financially support her in anyway he can. It’s never been about that truly because that’s just a given. He’s just proud of her work and wants tangible reminders of it. Besides, he wants to say none of it is nearly enough. Guilt has been gnawing at him for years that he doesn’t do enough for her and maybe never did. Jieun is sprinting back into the room with a binder and pencil. “Appa, can you help me with my homework?” They drop the argument. 

 ~

It’s Friday and Wonwoo lets himself into the house, apologizing profusely. He got caught up in something at work and it had almost slipped his mind that he had agreed to keep Jieun for the evening while Y/N went out. However, his apology falls on deaf ears because no one is in the living room, or even on the first floor. “Where are you guys?” He yells at the foot of the stairs. ‘Bedroom’ is shouted back, so that’s where he goes. 

He tries not to come in here if he can help it. It doesn’t feel like its his space anymore because it’s not. So he hovers in the doorway of their once shared bedroom and smiles at the sight. Y/N is sitting with her back to the door, but Wonwoo can see that Jieun is the picture of concentration as she puts some blush on Y/N. It draws him into the room further than he normally would dare to go. “What’s happening here?”

Jieun narrows her eyes at him like he’s blowing her careful concentration. “I’m doing Eomma’s makeup for her date.” 

Y/N’s tone is admonishing, as if they’ve already had this discussion. “Ji, it’s not a date. I told you, we’re just getting some dinner as friends.” Her explanation doesn’t matter because Wonwoo refuses to acknowledge how his heart plummeted. It’s been four years. It’s a totally reasonable time to start dating again. 

Jieun doesn’t care for the explanation either, because she’s done with Y/N’s makeup, prancing out of the room. Y/N looks a little embarrassed when she stands up and Wonwoo bites back a laugh. “That bad, huh?” 

“It’s… bright,” he says gently. Y/N huffs, picking up the makeup bag and going into the bathroom. Wonwoo trails her. He feels like he has to say something. He supports Y/N. He always has. He’s happy for her, whatever she chooses. He’s determined to be. “So, a date, huh?”

Y/N’s embarrassed smile sinks a bit in the mirror as she tries to tame the artificial pink on her cheeks. “Not a date… But he’s nice. We met him in the park the other day. Jieun really enjoyed playing with his dog, so we got to chatting.”

“And his name is?” Wonwoo teases, though it kind of burns his tongue.

“Seungcheol. It really is just as friends. It’s what I insisted on,” Y/N presses and it makes Wonwoo shake his head. 

“But you don’t have to. If you want to go on a date with him, you should.” 

They’re staring at each other intensely. He doesn’t understand her. She’s the one that got a lawyer first and started divorce proceedings. So when she frowns and asks, “And you’d be okay with that?” He isn’t sure how to respond. He doesn’t know what kind of answer she’s looking for.  He settles for, “If you’d be happy, then yes,” but it feels unsatisfactory for so many reasons. 

Y/N looks like she wants to say something, but Jieun is yelling about someone being at the door and that she’s not supposed to open it for strangers. Y/N curses, patting her cheeks in the mirror one more time before grabbing her sweater and rushing down the stairs. She doesn’t thank him anymore for taking care of Jieun when she has something to do, mostly because it always leads to an ‘equal parent’ conversation. Another old fight. Wonwoo stays in the kitchen as to not have to face Seungcheol picking her up. He simply yells bye from there and sighs deeply when he hears the door close behind them. 

~

It’s two weeks later on a Saturday. Wonwoo is out with Mingyu for lunch. He’s checked pretty far out of the conversation because he’s made the mistake of mentioning Y/N’s non-date. Mingyu offers to set him up with a friend of his. He promises she’s sweet and funny and reads. When Wonwoo doesn’t react to these promises, it becomes a lecture about moving on and being happy. Wonwoo insists that he is happy, but it falls on deaf ears. 

His phone buzzes violently on the table and he holds up a finger to Mingyu with an apology. “Hey Y/N.” He pointedly ignores Mingyu’s eyes narrowing.

“Appa?” Jieun asks.

Wonwoo frowns. She’s not using an excited ‘steal mom’s phone to call dad and ramble about what happened in the park today’ tone. She sounds so serious that it makes Wonwoo’s gut twist. “Ji, honey. Everything okay?” He tries to keep the tone light, so she’s not afraid to answer. She might clam up if he shows his anxiety and he’s determined to be a person she can go to for help.

“Something’s wrong with Eomma.” Wonwoo’s already standing up to put on his coat. 

“Hold on, baby.” Wonwoo gives a short excuse to Mingyu, who despite his mixed feelings about Y/N does seem concerned. Enough to offer to go with him to help anyway. While Mingyu goes to pay the bill, Wonwoo steps outside. “Tell me about it. What’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks gently.

“I don’t know,” Jieun says worriedly. “She says she doesn’t feel good. I don’t know what to and she won’t tell me.”

Wonwoo all but busts into the house with Mingyu on his tail. Y/N is in the downstairs bathroom vomiting and Jieun is doing her best to comfort her, but she looks incredibly relieved when Wonwoo enters the room. Gently, he guides her to Mingyu and takes her spot. Y/N must be able to tell it’s no longer Jieun rubbing her back and holding her hair after the door closes because she starts crying. She’s always hated being sick, but she hates making Jieun worry more and she was holding it back while Jieun was in the room. Wonwoo knows because he feels the same. 

When she sits back with his help, he doesn’t really think much of her leaning into him. His arm is already around her anyway. “Been a while since we’ve been here, huh?” He teases if only to lighten the mood and get her to stop crying because it’s painful to see. She elbows him weakly. “What was that about?”

“Migraine. I woke up with it. You know how it goes when it gets bad.” 

He does. Between the horrible morning sickness with Jieun and the migraines she suffered from anyway, they’d found themselves just like this on many occasions in this very bathroom floor. 

“Thanks for coming.”

Mindlessly, he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “All you or Jieun have to do is call.”

~

It’s Christmas Eve and Wonwoo has just put Jieun to bed. Y/N says she has a long night ahead of her wrapping presents for Jieun. Wonwoo considers leaving because there are just some things that he doesn’t want to push. This feels too ‘Mom and Dad are together’ of them, even if Jieun isn’t even awake to see it. They’re still a team, but they rarely work on anything together. They tend to split the jobs between them instead. 

Still, the mountain of boxes in the bedroom floor makes him second guess leaving. He leans against the door frame and watches Y/N sort through the sea of boxes. “Did we go a little overboard this year?” He jokes. Y/N gives him a sheepish smile. 

“What can I say? She’s at that age where she can tell us what she wants, and we’re both total suckers.” 

She’s right. All Jieun has to do is bat her big eyes and pout up at either one of them. A good, “Appa, please,” usually does the trick even he was trying to be strong. 

“Do you need some help?” Wonwoo finds himself asking. He’s not a great gift wrapper, but he can hand her boxes and tape. And it feels totally unfair to leave her with all of this when he’s contributed half of these boxes to the pile.

Y/N smiles and shakes her head. “No, you should go get some rest. You said you’re visiting your family tomorrow, right?”

The question burns and he knows she doesn’t mean it like that. She doesn’t have family around so it would just be her and Jieun tomorrow morning. Wonwoo said he’d visit family, yes. But he finds himself biting the inside of his cheek. “You two are my family too.” 

Y/N releases the box and frowns at him. “Wonwoo, I promise I didn’t mean it like that. You’re welcome here anytime, literally. But you see us all the time and you don’t get to see anyone else that often.” 

“And if I want to bail on them and help you wrap presents instead? And watch Jieun open them in the morning?”

Y/N gives him a long look, before finally picking up the tape dispenser and holding it out to him. “Then come on.” 

~

Much later, Wonwoo finds himself somewhere he hasn’t been in four years. Y/N had insisted it was too cold to sleep downstairs on the couch. “It’s not like you haven’t slept in this bed together before.” She means it as a joke but his mind races when she shoves some of his old clothes into his hand. 

It must be weird for her too, because she’s still awake. He’s about to excuse himself and find a couple blankets to take downstairs when she speaks up. “I’m sorry for how that sounded earlier. You are my family. I know we’re… complicated sometimes. But that doesn’t change anything.” 

Wonwoo glances at her. He hasn’t seen her like this in a long time, lying next to him with messy hair, and it gives him a rush of emotions that he has to beat down. “I know. I know we’re complicated sometimes, but I still love you and Jieun more than anyone else in the world. Of course, I’d rather be here.”

Y/N chuckles. It sounds a little watery and he’s not ready to see her cry. “We love you too. You’re the greatest dad and there have been so many times I wish things were different for us. For Jieun.”

Wonwoo rolls to face her. “Do you regret it?” He’s afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know? Neither of us were happy. I’d hate to think that we might still be like that if we had stayed together, and what it might have done to Jieun. But sometimes the lines blur for me.”

“Me too,” Wonwoo says simply. He gets it. The urge to hug and kiss and hold her like when they were together. The desire to take care of her. The need to fall into bed with her like they did in their tragically short relationship and let her warm him up. He recognizes that some of it is just what he should do for the mother of his child. A toxic relationship between them would negatively impact Jieun and they’ll have none of it. But every time he leaves the house to go to a quiet apartment, he feels a mixture of relief and pain. Sometimes he wants to stay, like he is tonight, just to get over the fear of getting close to that blurred line again and see what happens. 

“Wonwoo? Have you dated any?”

“No,” Wonwoo says bluntly. “Mingyu tries to set me up but I’ve avoided it.” 

Y/N hesitates. “If you say it’s okay for me to date, then it would be okay for you as well. There’s no double standard here.”

He can’t imagine being with anyone else, so he says so. Y/N finally looks at him, eyes a little watery. “Still?” He simply nods and she bravely slides over to him. His arms fold around her automatically. “It gets lonely, doesn’t it? Our situation?”

“Lonely?” He questions though he gets it. He just likes to hear her thoughts. 

“It’s not just about things like sex. It’s about the daily intimacy. I don’t get nearly enough hugs anymore because I’m too busy giving them. How silly is that?” Y/N chuckles into his chest. 

“It’s not silly at all,” he says easily. The second part doesn’t come out so easily. “So there’s been no one in any capacity?” Y/N shakes her head in his chest. Something possesses him to press a kiss to her head. “Me neither.” 

His words make her lift her head and look up at him. Out of habit, no matter how old it is, he grazes the side of her face. It’s also an old habit to lean down and kiss her. Warmth blooms in his chest when she kisses back. It takes very little thought to see where this is going. She starts shedding his clothes and hers are right behind his. When he pushes himself into her, he thinks he could cry at the little sounds she makes because they’re the same. It’s the same when he tells her he loves her and she says it back. It’s the same when she comes hard around him and he follows quickly after. It’s also the same to shower together afterwards. 

They don’t talk about it. Wonwoo wonders if she’s just as lost for words as he is when they climb back into bed. They don’t talk about it in the morning either, but Wonwoo can’t resist finding little reasons to touch her. Brushing up against her in the kitchen while they make breakfast. Sitting close with an arm around her as they watch Jieun open gifts from the couch. Sneaking a little kiss on her cheek on his way out later that night. Once he’s had a taste after so long, he remembers how much he loved it. It’s like a knife in his chest to go back to his quiet apartment. 

~

It’s the middle of January, in the middle of the night, when Wonwoo’s phone rings. He’s groggy but his eyes shoot up when he sees who’s calling. She would never call this late if it wasn’t an emergency. “Y/N?”

Her breathing is a little jagged on the line. “Wonwoo, Jieun is sick.”

He knows this, Jieun has had the flu for a few days now, but Y/N wouldn’t panic like this for just anything. He’s up and pulling on clothes fast. “Talk to me, baby.” The name comes out before he realizes it but Y/N doesn’t say anything about it. 

“She’s got a high fever and I think she’s dehydrated. She’s so out of it that she won’t really talk to me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know exactly when he hung up the phone or how fast he drove, but he finds Y/N hovering over Jieun’s bedside. He decides they’re out of their element when he sees the thermometer and scoops up Jieun. “Let’s just go to the hospital.” 

Y/N grabs her things swiftly and they’re in the car within a couple minutes. Wonwoo’s nerves are shot already. He doesn’t want to take Jieun to the hospital because it brings back too many memories. But hospital staff say nearly an hour later that it was the right decision. They want to keep Jieun for a few hours at least to reduce the fever and get her rehydrated. 

Outside of the exam room, Y/N cries into his chest. He does his best to soothe her, but everything he says is to soothe himself too. How Jieun came into this world was traumatic and both parents feel raw about it to this day, particularly since they’re standing in the same hospital that they were in five years ago. 

The next morning, Mingyu brings him a bag of clothes because he won’t be going back to his apartment any time soon. Jieun will still need a few days of careful monitoring at home and Y/N’s hands haven’t stopped shaking, even when they’re on the way home later in the afternoon. He reaches over blindly and holds them in her lap as he drives. 

~

It’s Valentine’s Day and Wonwoo is regretting agreeing to this. Mingyu’s been applying a lot of pressure lately to date. He has no excuse not to go when Y/N encourages him to, saying she doesn’t have any plans and will be home with Jieun having a girl’s night. Wonwoo hesitantly asked if Seungcheol hadn’t tried to make plans with her and she’d simply shrugged and said ‘It wasn’t going to work’.

So Wonwoo finds himself seated in front of a woman named Seoyun. Mingyu didn’t lie. She’s pretty, seems sweet, has a good sense of humor, and likes to read. Wonwoo is entirely unsettled by all of it but does his best to be polite. When he says nervously that it’s been a while since he’s dated, she waves it off and asks about him. He keeps it simple. He talks about his job and his daughter. Seoyun doesn’t seem put off by the mention of Jieun but carefully asks if the mother is in the picture. He smiles and simply says, “Yes, she is and we’re on good terms.” If he were to ever entertain bring someone else into Jieun’s life, Y/N’s presence is a non-negotiable and they should know it right away. 

“Do you mind if I ask why it didn’t work?” Seoyun asked hesitantly. It occurs to Wonwoo that Mingyu might not have mentioned this little snag. She might not have agreed to go out with him if she did. 

Nonetheless, Wonwoo keeps that answer brief as well. “We were only together briefly before we found out Jieun was on the way. We rushed to get married but quickly decided that it wasn’t making us happy.”

This seems to make Seoyun relax. He’s sure she was expecting some sob story about infidelity or money problems - the typical things that make people divorce. She tells him that she owns a bakery. When she tells him the name, he has to pretend like he’s never heard of it, despite the fact that his and Y/N’s little wedding cake came from there years ago and Seoyun probably made it herself. 

He walks her to her front door at the end of the night and Seoyun smiles at him. “I don’t expect a second date.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “Oh. Was it something I said?” He’s not hurt, just curious. 

Seoyun chuckles. “No, nothing like that. I had a great time and you seem like a nice guy. I knew you would be because Mingyu had so many nice things to say about you. I just know when someone’s still in love with someone else.” Wonwoo feels his face pinch and Seoyun chuckles again. “It’s okay, really. I get it. You and your ex have history and you still care. Maybe you can even fix it one day.”

Wonwoo’s mouth is dry. “I don’t know if she wants that.” And the idea of asking feels like standing on a ledge. 

Seoyun smiles kindly. “Just think about it. People have stressful periods of their life and some relationships don’t endure. But I’m a believer in right person, wrong time.” She wishes him good night and goes inside. He’s a little dazed the rest of the night. 

~

Mingyu calls Y/N and says he needs uncle time a few weekends later and Y/N promptly hands Jieun over at the door an hour later. Y/N and Mingyu aren’t exactly friends, but they have some mutual respect for each other. Mingyu is suspicious when Wonwoo calls to ask if Y/N indicated what her plans were, but simply says ‘chores’.

Wonwoo lets himself into the house. Y/N is standing on the kitchen counter when he enters the room and jumps when he grabs ahold of her legs. “Hey! What are you doing here? Jieun is out with Mingyu.”

“I know,” he says vaguely. “The better question is what are you doing all the way up there?”

Y/N huffs. “Switching out my mugs.” Wonwoo hums. She’s collected coffee mugs for years and brought a not-so-small collection with her when they’d moved in together way back when. She had seasonal and holiday mugs that had to be shuffled around between the rack on the counter and the upper cabinet periodically. 

“Wish you would just let me do that,” Wonwoo teases, though it does make him nervous to find her climbing on things. It always has. 

Y/N snorted. “I would have if I knew you were coming over. But I’m almost done.” When she closes the cabinet, Wonwoo lifts her off the counter and places her on her feet. It makes her giggle and his chest feels warm. 

“What? Didn’t think I could still do that?”

She shoves him by the chest but he stays stationary, his hands still pinned at her waist. Y/N picks up two floral mugs. “Which one do you want?” 

“Black,” he answers shortly just to piss her off and he’s delighted when it works. 

“You took those with you. Bright, seasonal mugs are all we have here.” She twists towards the coffee pot and starts it up because she knows he doesn’t actually care what the coffee is in. Wonwoo is still standing close, hands on her waist. “Not that you’re not welcome anytime, but what brings you here? I just have chores to do today so you run the risk of being put to work if you’re here,” she jokes with her back to him still. 

“You, actually. Can we talk?” 

She peeks over her shoulder, looking up at him. She looks confused. “Oh, okay. What about?”

“Us?” 

He feels her stiffen and she turns to face him fully. “Is this a good ‘us’ or bad ‘us’ conversation?” It’s a fair question. She needs to know if she needs to gear up for a fight. 

“I think it depends on how you take it, but I’d like you to hear me out.” 

“Vague as ever,” Y/N huffs and he can tell it’s mostly a joke. “Let me get coffee for us first.” 

~

They’re seated on the couch next to each other and Wonwoo doesn’t know where to start so he starts lamely. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s eyebrows pinch together. “For what?”

“For not being a good husband. I wish I could go back and do so many things over again.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Wonwoo, we were both at fault.” Wonwoo shakes his head at her. 

“No, not equally anyway. You were suffering. With the pregnancy, with the birth, and with the postpartum depression. You needed my help and I checked out mentally and emotionally. I might have still been here physically, but I offered so little otherwise.”

Y/N’s eyes get watery and she puts the mug down on the coffee table, because her hands are shaking a bit. They always do when they talk about that period of time. “You were suffering too. The whole thing was just as much of a surprise for you. And then the pressure you were under at the hospital that night. It was a lot. All of it was.”

Wonwoo shakes his head again. “That’s just it.” He swipes a hand down his face. He hates thinking about that day much less talking about it, but he’s held onto this for five years now. “Things moved fast before that, yes. But something clicked off in my brain when that damned doctor asked me to pick between you or the baby. It’s an impossible decision that I felt like I’d get wrong no matter what. And I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you were a little busy bleeding out.”

He has to stop talking about the details because it feels like a knife twisting in his chest. He’s about to cry, something he rarely does, but this has been building for years now and he doesn’t want to stuff it back down anymore. “And then we get home and all I could picture is what it might have looked like if it hadn’t all worked out. What would I have done to come home without either of you? Or neither, totally alone?” He chuckles bitterly. “It’s so stupid because I have no room to complain. You were the one that almost died. But I couldn’t unsee it. The panic was all I could feel for months afterwards. It just wouldn’t go away and I was numb to everything else. So when you asked if I was happy, I said no, but I should have explained.”

Y/N is silently crying now. “What would you have said?” 

“That I love you too much to lose you. So I let you go. God, it makes no fucking sense when I say it like that. I thought it was what you wanted when you handed me the papers so I signed them.” He’s crying in frustration now, and he feels like he doesn’t deserve it when she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. She runs a hand through his hair and he breaks. 

She’s one of the few people he’d let go like this in front of, but he’s still embarrassed when he pulls away. She stays close. “So, what now?” She hesitates. “Do you… want things to change?”

“Selfishly, yes.” 

Y/N chuckles. “First of all, you don’t have a selfish bone in your body.” She cuts him off when he opens his mouth to argue. “Second of all, what do you have in mind?” 

“Can we try again?” The question is weak but she nods and he feels like he could cry again. She’s crawling into his lap just as fast as he’s pulling her in. Once she’s straddling him, his arms fly around her and his lips slam into hers. It’s desperate and fast and it takes a single tug of his shirt from her for him to yank it off impatiently. She’s matches his impatience perfectly, tugging at their clothes to get the most important pieces out of the way until she’s crawling back into his lap and sliding down on him. He moans loudly into her neck at the warmth. 

And then she’s riding him fast and he feels blinded by it. The intensity of it has him hurtling towards an orgasm fast and he reaches for her clit to get her there too. Afterwards, they sit boneless on the couch. He’s still buried inside of her and she’s laying on his chest. “I love you.” 

His heart is in his throat when he says it back, and then he’s standing up with her still attached to him. She squeals and it makes Wonwoo feel so fucking light as he climbs the stairs, throwing her onto the bed. He’s on her in seconds and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough. He doesn’t know how he’s lived without it for four years. She urges him into a brutal pace that has her crying out and coming hard more than once. When he’s done, he moves to get them into the shower and she pulls him back down and curls into his side. “No way, we’re staying here for a while.”

Wonwoo laughs, kissing her hard again. 

~

It’s another small wedding, but this time it’s relaxed without all of the pressures they had before. Jieun is the flower girl, but she’s still kind of confused by the whole concept of them getting married. She doesn’t understand how things would even change. Wonwoo moved back in promptly after he and Y/N got back together. Jieun didn’t really seem to notice, which Y/N assured Wonwoo was a good thing. That meant he’d already been so present that the change was imperceptible to her. 

Mingyu is giving a speech. Wonwoo and Y/N didn’t do the groomsmen/bridesmaid thing, but Mingyu still felt compelled to give one because he was certain he would have been the best man If the wedding had been any bigger. Mingyu is surprisingly warm to Y/N now. It seems he’s seen the error of his ways and accepted that being with her makes Wonwoo happy. There was a lot that Wonwoo didn’t tell him back then that he’s told him now. 

Wonwoo looks at Y/N when they toast and clink champagne glasses, but raises an eyebrow when she just pretends to sip it. He grips her thigh lightly and leans over when the music starts again. “You don’t have to pretend to drink it, baby. I don’t want you to get sick again.”

Wonwoo had gotten a call from Y/N first thing this morning. She was late and she was panicking. He abandoned the rule that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the ceremony and went to her hotel room. A few tests later and the results were confirmed. She’d tearfully asked if he wanted to call off the wedding and his vehement denial had startled her. She’d asked him a dozen times and he had to kiss her breathless for her to get it. 

She still looks nervous sitting next to him. “Don’t have any regrets, do you?” 

He pulls her face to his and kisses her hard. He can be soft later, but she needs to understand the intensity of his love right now. “I’m with you. We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re not upset? Really? Even after how things were with Jieun?” She’s getting tearful again. 

“No, I’m not upset. I’d love to have another child with you. But I’ll be picking you if I’m asked again, okay? It’ll always be you.” 

Y/N nods and this time she’s the one kissing him hard. He won’t be letting her go again.

[shookyungsoo]

me with azriel rn, i don't have a single clue who he is, but damn i am fascinated with that tattooed shadowsinger

Please let me know that I am not the only one who has read [& continues to do so] fanfictions about the characters whom I know nothing about; I haven't seen the movie/series or read the books about them but I am crushing hard on them because one of their fanfictions landed on my "for you" page...

[shookyungsoo]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[shookyungsoo]

Not My Type

Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: after a hookup with Rafe you both slowly catch feelings while trying to remain professional business partners

warnings: swearing, smut, p in v (protected & unprotected), face sitting, dirty talk, daddy kink, reverse cowgirl, missionary, fingering (semi-public), dirty talk, edging, angsty, Rafe being a bit of an ass, fluff

♡ part 1 wc: 3k

♡ part 2 wc: 3.7k

♡ part 3 wc: 3.1k

♡ part 4 wc: 2.5k

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

[shookyungsoo]

Your Hidden Strength

BBC Sherlock : Oneshot

Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 5999

Warnings: Kidnapping/held hostage… a reigniting love for Benedict Cumberbatch. I’m obsessed with keeping writing true to character, hopefully this is accurate

DID YOU KNOW THEY TOOK SHERLOCK OFF NETFLIX - those bastards

Request: This is just from my own head 😊

A/N: Sherlock seems indifferent to the hired housekeeper, but when she goes missing his life is thrown upside down

She straightened out the chaos. She was very good at that. Making whatever disaster was in the flat a controlled chaos.

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