#assassination nation mark fluff

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk were both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison),  jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love). 

➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

Jeongguk, 26 Investigative journalist at Golden News Network Less than a mile away To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only). 

“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.” 

“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.” 

From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language. 

“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.” 

A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees. 

Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop. 

In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it? 

Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam. 

But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him. 

“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.

“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.” 

“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction. 

Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.

“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff. 

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband. 

Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley. 

Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school. 

Dear Jeon family,  Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.  It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.  Sincerely,  Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy

The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless. 

“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life. 

Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.” 

“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school. 

“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering. 

“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache. 

“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes. 

Has she been listening all along?

“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands. 

“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question. 

Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person. 

“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend. 

“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?  

Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

Y/N Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library 1 mile away Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ “Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”  “Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”  “Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh” 

“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod. 

Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month. 

“What do you think about this guy?” 

“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.” 

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.” 

“How about her? She’s pretty, right?” 

“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?” 

From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app. 

It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority. 

“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines. 

“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes. 

“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice. 

You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.” 

“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations? 

“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.” 

“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”

Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence. 

“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.” 

Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.” 

Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss. 

You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?

If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again. 

If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.

But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is? 

If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that. 

Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle. 

Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are. 

If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time. 

But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen. 

Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh. 

Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring. 

A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.

His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).” 

Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him? 

The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know. 

When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone. 

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency. 

Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet. 

With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates. 

“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.” 

Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes. 

Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood. 

Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old. 

It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her. 

There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart. 

“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?” 

Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body. 

Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter. 

In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.

Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again. 

A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body. 

Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right. 

They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution? 

They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.

The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t. 

As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips. 

Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him. 

After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers. 

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.

There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.

“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.  

“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy. 

“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness. 

The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there. 

You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek. 

“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.

“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically. 

A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.

Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really. 

“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides. 

“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation. 

Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.” 

“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?” 

“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features. 

“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?” 

He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.” 

“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.

“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips. 

“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.” 

The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word. 

Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands. 

Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?” 

It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.” 

Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice. 

His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks. 

Dammit. He’s cute. 

You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip. 

Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head. 

“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”

“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.” 

Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single. 

“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes. 

“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.” 

Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news. 

“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”

His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment. 

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”

Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with. 

“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy. 

Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?” 

You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled. 

“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness. 

“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?” 

“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal. 

You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?

You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it. 

“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short. 

“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.

Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched. 

After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance? 

You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions. 

“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.” 

Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.” 

His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real. 

“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?” 

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the  board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.” 

“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?” 

“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.” 

“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself. 

“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit. 

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.” 

You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo. 

“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー” 

“I’ll do it.”

You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?” 

Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.” 

“y/n!” 

You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears. 

As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag. 

You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together. 

“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.” 

“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress. 

“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief. 

“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.” 

“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts. 

“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.” 

“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!” 

Ouch. That hurts. 

“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses. 

How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.

There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes. 

You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano. 

“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.  

When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man? 

“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint. 

He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing. 

You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”

“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him. 

You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act. 

Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!” 

“And he’s hot!” 

You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone. 

“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later. 

In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about. 

“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias. 

You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this. 

He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it. 

You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase. 

Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison. 

“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile. 

You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close. 

“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward. 

Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear. 

“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes. 

Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead. 

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk. 

A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose. 

“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head. 

“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.” 

“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips. 

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength. 

“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.” 

Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile. 

“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his. 

You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action. 

Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. 

The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close. 

“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles. 

“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. 

With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.” 

Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out. 

“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.” 

Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.” 

“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks. 

You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle. 

Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?” 

You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.

“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.” 

“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought. 

“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.” 

“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question. 

“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation. 

“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you. 

“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better. 

The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.

The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions. 

You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?” 

“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?” 

“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”

“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had. 

Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe. 

He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum. 

Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core). 

He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever. 

You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms. 

“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true. 

For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.  

In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day. 

You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange. 

His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required. 

Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does. 

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.

You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.

The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!” 

During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is. 

…

True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.

When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire. 

Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul. 

It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy. 

You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table. 

“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you. 

“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-” 

Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.” 

In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system. 

After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family. 

When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy. 

“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines. 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”

The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump. 

“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest. 

Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept. 

You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.” 

A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?” 

You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother. 

“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.” 

Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does. 

“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall. 

“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.” 

You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night. 

Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.” 

You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book. 

As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’

“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff. 

“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?” 

Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room. 

You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos. 

Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?” 

“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.” 

“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.

Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.” 

The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip. 

“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand. 

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives. 

Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.

“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway. 

“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts. 

“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.” 

Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine. 

Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo. 

When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire? 

With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw. 

“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board. 

When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.

“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes. 

Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.

“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.” 

“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips. 

You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder. 

“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.” 

Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him. 

When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you. 

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there. 

“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself. 

You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.” 

You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.” 

“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.” 

You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter. 

When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to. 

“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice. 

Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes. 

Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed. 

“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-” 

You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks. 

Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl. 

“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises. 

Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table. 

You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.” 

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.” 

Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying. 

You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside. 

It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.

“Eomma?”

It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.” 

These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about? 

The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you. 

Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning. 

You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?” 

Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears. 

“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts. 

You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back. 

“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.” 

“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks. 

“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-” 

“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?

So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night? 

You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it. 

“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again. 

On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception). 

“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.

Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?” 

“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.” 

Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.

In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back. 

Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”

Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?” 

Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned. 

“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained. 

“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no? 

With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.” 

The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again. 

Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted. 

“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.” 

There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.” 

“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?” 

You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him. 

His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores. 

“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night. 

“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders. 

You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.” 

“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.” 

You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top. 

Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference. 

Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now. 

“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.” 

Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.” 

“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?” 

Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day. 

You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks. 

“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction. 

His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn. 

The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life. 

Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose. 

“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast. 

Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.

“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right? 

 “Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream. 

“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries. 

Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.” 

“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?” 

But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away. 

…

In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe. 

When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does. 

For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely. 

“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle. 

Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?” 

Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share. 

Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.

“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.” 

“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?” 

He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?” 

He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle. 

You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?” 

His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.” 

He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers. 

This is still practice… right? 

As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment. 

A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly. 

“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention. 

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him. 

He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush. 

You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest. 

Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?” 

He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.” 

His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you. 

But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic. 

…

The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you. 

“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action. 

There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want. 

“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work. 

Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper. 

“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.” 

On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn. 

As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day. 

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Dear reader, If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.  My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.  I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right? Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.  Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.  But lately, being with him brings me to life.  Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.  Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other. 

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Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.  Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.  Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do. They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.  Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.  But it’s not true.  I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.  I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.  It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.  There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.

By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem. 

Jeongguk is late. 

He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong. 

The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most? 

Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time. 

“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat. 

A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends. 

Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms. 

“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face. 

Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking. 

You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay. 

So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together. 

“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place? 

“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.” 

You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.” 

He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles. 

“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”

There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out. 

“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.” 

There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.

“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace. 

After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry. 

Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently  move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband. 

You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator. 

Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago. 

Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him. 

The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring. 

Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time. 

Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape. 

Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting. 

While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.” 

“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.

His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm. 

He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?” 

You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?” 

“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.” 

But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it. 

Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes. 

Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that. 

Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools. 

Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing. 

Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand. 

You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship? 

For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.

“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen. 

All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while. 

Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.

But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love. 

“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination. 

But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?” 

“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question. 

“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks. 

“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.

“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.” 

“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders. 

“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs. 

Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him. 

“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.” 

You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention? 

There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess. 

…

At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk. 

Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex. 

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…” 

“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-” 

“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort. 

“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.” 

You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice. 

Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.

Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.  

“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away. 

“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay. 

You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”

“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care. 

The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better. 

But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors. 

Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him. 

For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.

A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room. 

…

The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom. 

His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face. 

You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment. 

He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?” 

“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?” 

You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine. 

“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.  

He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes. 

“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck. 

“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”

He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.” 

You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.” 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders. 

“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.” 

“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”

“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”

Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters. 

There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out. 

“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate. 

“Jeongguk- Love?”

The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.” 

A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek. 

A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.

“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming. 

You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself. 

Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you. 

Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?” 

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders. 

“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.” 

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?” 

You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.” 

“Then can I hold you?”

You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.

Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.

A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth. 

“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice. 

“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart. 

To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips. 

Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading. 

“You can touch me if you want,” he offers. 

You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were. 

“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.

“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.” 

Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control. 

Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips. 

“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.” 

The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.

“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.” 

Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him. 

So you do. 

When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment. 

His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes. 

You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips. 

“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions. 

Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.” 

Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.” 

He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance. 

Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.

“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.” 

Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?” 

“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.” 

You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do. 

“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.

He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”

God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more. 

You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to? 

“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail. 

“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips. 

“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined. 

“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”

Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him? 

You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’

There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.

“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…” 

“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”

“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.” 

Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection. 

He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?” 

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.” 

With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together. 

His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.” 

With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges. 

“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away. 

“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him. 

“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.” 

Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs. 

As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through. 

To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs. 

A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost. 

He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”

You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist. 

“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.

There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor. 

His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off. 

Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless. 

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?” 

His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.

Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his. 

Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom. 

“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.” 

Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body. 

What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound. 

Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”

You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.” 

“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides. 

You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.  

“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off. 

Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor. 

Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body. 

“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours. 

Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate. 

“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.

Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional. 

Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you. 

With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love. 

He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress. 

He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.

Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light. 

Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.” 

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting. 

The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock. 

His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste. 

Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.  

Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.” 

He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him. 

He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source. 

“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.

“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before? 

Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third. 

You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers. 

“Guk- love, I-”

“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt. 

At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody. 

He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline. 

Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head. 

He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?” 

“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch. 

Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock. 

Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.” 

But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”

“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses. 

“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur. 

What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length. 

“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”

Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-” 

You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”

Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt. 

You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut. 

Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.

“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans. 

You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy. 

“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure. 

“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires. 

He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.” 

His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.

“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls. 

But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” 

Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife. 

You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him. 

“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses. 

“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him. 

He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch. 

Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes. 

“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”

You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.

He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.” 

You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat. 

“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.

He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion. 

“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion. 

A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere. 

“How’s it, angel?” 

“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth. 

“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so. 

Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg. 

“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.” 

Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess. 

“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close. 

Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess. 

He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now. 

The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow. 

But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours. 

Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high. 

“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.” 

You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions. 

“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go. 

He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length. 

You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all. 

Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four. 

Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you. 

“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?” 

“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life. 

Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel. 

The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind. 

“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?” 

His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” 

Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference. 

Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives. 

Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school? 

So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family. 

Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire). 

All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment. 

Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school. 

The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”

She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-” 

The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?” 

“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper. 

“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.” 

“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table. 

Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay. 

“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.

The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask. 

However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?” 

You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement. 

“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.” 

“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills. 

Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action. 

“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace. 

He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room. 

Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.

“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.

Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle. 

Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it. 

“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.” 

There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-” 

Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you? 

Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.” 

Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?” 

The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction. 

Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did. 

…

Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter. 

While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey. 

When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble. 

This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.

“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.” 

[quotablefanfiction]

“Actually I wanted to wear the clothes you made me for the ceremony, but the Fire Sages said they were too casual.” “You were bullied by five old men in pointy hats? I thought you earned the mark of the brave.”

Zuko and Katara before his coronation (chp. 22)

The Blackfish and the Dragon by ama (AO3) Avatar: The Last Airbender – Mature – Katara/Zuko #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Underage #Arranged Marriage #Slow Burn #Enemies to Lovers #Politics #Assassination Plot(s) #Developing Relationship #Awkwardness #Fluff and Angst #Touching #Friendship #Personal Growth #Recommended

Katara grew up in the Southern Water Tribe under the tutelage of Hama, the only waterbender ever to have escaped Fire Nation captivity. When Zuko arrives at the South Pole, seeking the Avatar, they are more than ready to defend him. Iroh watches as his beloved nephew throws himself at the ice walls again and again in an impossible siege–-and resolves to do anything it takes to save his nephew from himself. With the assistance of the Order of the White Lotus, he deposes his brother on the Day of Black Sun.

A week later, the Southern Water Tribe receives a petition for peace, and a proposal of marriage.

*Recommended by @fleeingdawn-blog1

[yuexuan]

[Review] 会读心与不标记

Title: 会读心与不标记 I Can Read Minds But Will Not Be Marked

Author: 佐润

Length: 117 chapters + 16 extras

Tag: Modern, a/b/o, mecha, interstellar

Summary **taken from novel updates**:

Lin Han, the best Omega of the Empire, was the core mecha designer of the National Military Academy. In addition to his amazingly high concentration of pheromone and spiritual power, no one knows that he has also awakened a bizarre ability – mind reading.

Just putting his hand on someone else’s hand, he could know what was in the other person’s mind.

The situation in the empire was changing and the storm was coming, and Lin Han, as the most outstanding mecha designer of the Military Research Institute, met with that high and mighty general of the empire. Lin Han had to take off his gloves and shook hands politely with this cold and icy male god of the empire.

[So fragrant.] [I’m hard.] [Want to mark.]

Lin Han, “????”

The youth coldly lowered his face and drew back his hand expressionlessly, ‘Sorry for the intrusion.’

Novel | Novel[translated]

Comments **contain spoilers**:

An interstellar love story between omega!Lin Han and alpha!He Yunting, filled with romance, fights against aliens, and conspiracies. As the summary explained, Lin Han is capable of reading people’s minds, including that of the socially awkward general He Yunting’s mind. He met He Yunting during a dinner, where he witnessed an assassination attempt made towards the general. Subsequently, multiple assassination attempts were made towards He Yunting, all involving omegas with their glands removed. 

Eventually, Lin Han found himself embroiled amidst the conspiracies surrounding He Yunting: cases of abnormally strong omegas with their glands removed, a planet of betas becoming zombie-like and aggressive, aliens that appeared out of nowhere to attack the Empire, and the royalty’s potential involvement in these cases. 

A few highlights:

I love their pet Gu Lulu that they got from another planet. It is so cute and cuddly, plus the way it would cry whenever it thought that Lin Han abandoned it. 

Ji Meng’s death was very sudden. But because of it, it is also one of the more impressionable deaths I had come across in quite awhile. 

The overall plot is decent - all the overarching storylines do come together eventually, even if they were predictable. But apparently this is the author’s first serious novel, so it’s pretty decent!

There’s quite a few nice smutty scenes in there~ Mecha and sex? C’mon, it’s kinky~

The story manages to scratch some of my a/b/o itch. I was looking for a/b/o stories that don’t involve school-type fluff-only romance, so it’s nice to see some conspiracy and politics involved in an a/b/o story. 

Some of the not-so-enjoyable parts:

MC could have so much more potential. I like that Lin Han wanted to use his mind reading ability to help He Yunting at the start (e.g. by sussing out who is trying to target the general). But beyond a few inconsequential times that he used the ability for plot purposes, it is generally only mentioned in the context of Lin Han knowing He Yunting’s adoration for him. 

The last part about Lin Han’s mother and her romance with the prince, plus Lin Han’s true identity as a prince, is very, very forced. Felt like it didn’t play a prominent role in the novel and was just added on to give Lin Han this cool identity (maybe so that he can be the general’s equal?). Also, for the longest time the story teases at Lin Han being special because of his spiritual and mind-reading ability, so that there is high stakes since he would be targeted for gland-removal. But it turns out that the villain didn’t even really consider him when Yunting intervened. Overall, the final reveal is rather anticlimatic. 

Also, He Yunting’s attraction to Lin Han is not really logical…? Apparently he willingly loses his memories so that Lin Han can’t read it and learn about his mother’s past. But there wasn’t really anything worth being upset about, so it ended up reading like a forced romance plot point.

[sir-skarsgard]

Hello! I saw that you write Bill's preferences and I have an ideia. Please, write how would be the Bill's reaction having a very beautiful and attractive girlfriend (Dream, JUST A DREAM😂). Oh, if you have a similar request, you can combine with mine if you want, I don't mind 😊

Word count: 1045

Warnings/contents: Cursing, fluff, self conscious feelings 

Notes: Ahhh this is so cute! I love it! It took me a million years to get to this, but I am back in the habit of writing for Bill again (and hopefully it stays that way) and this was a request I got a long time ago, so here we go! The point of view switches a couple of times, I apologize for that, I completely zoned out while I was writing and forgot which point of view I was doing and I’m too lazy to change the wording 🙃

So here’s my first mediocre post since I came back to life, I hope you enjoy it! 

<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

Axel would have the tendency to get jealous when other guys stared for too long; his girlfriend was absolutely stunning, and everyone saw it. Whenever he started to get jealous he would wrap an arm around her waist or shoulder and pull her close to him. Or he’d press a kiss to her lips and then look at the person who was making him jealous. Typically he would just sulk for a few minutes until you shot the guy down, who was openly ignoring Axel’s presence all together, and then left, dragging Axel after you 

Bob would definitely have insecurities about dating his gorgeous girlfriend; this was all just a joke right? Some cruel prank from Bowers. A running joke that she would go to him and talk about everything Bob did that was stupid throughout the day. She didn't really love him. How could she? She looked like a model for Pete’s sake! A lot of reassuring would take place in this relationship in the beginning, because he’d remain shocked that such a gorgeous woman would want to be with him. Sexually. But soon enough his worries would slow down. Though he would still get hit with a lot of insecurities when another guy hit on her because he assumed she’d want to be with him instead. And then you would have to be reassuring him again. Rinse, repeat 

Henry was very aware how stunning his girlfriend was. Still confused as to why she was even with him, in fact. And it seemed most of the people in town wondered that same thing; he would get a lot of jealous looks from others as he and his gorgeous girlfriend went around the town, holding hands and laughing. Jealous looks from girls were also very common, normally because they seemed jealous of her beauty, though also because of how happy they seemed together when the girls boyfriend stared at you as you walked. Every now and then he would get self conscious of his own looks, but a little reassurance from her and he would be back on his feet; he needs constant reminders from you that you only want him and that those other guys don't compare, just to make him feel better. And you were more than willing to remind him how much you loved him-- and only him 

Mark was very easily jealous. Having guys constantly doing double-takes to stare at his girlfriend could often get him fired up, but thankfully for the other guys you always knew how to distract him again. He often walked around with her with a protective arm around her shoulder or a hand in her back pocket, just to show those guys who did a double-take that she was not available. He didn't get very self conscious, but when he did it was important to take a gentle approach to it and just sit on his lap and kiss him like it might be the last time you can ever do it again

Merkel is aware, and would find it funny how many guys tried to hit on his girlfriend, because she was the most gorgeous woman in the world. He had caught a rare, beautiful on the inside, absolutely stunning on the outside, woman and other men saw it, too. Their flirting was always pointless, and Merkel trusted her with no worries. To say he wouldn't get a little jealous when he saw some guy hitting on his girlfriend would be a lie, but he would always just cross his arms and stare the guy down while she turned him down and they'd move on with their lives; at the end of the day he’s the one she’s stealing the blankets from and using as a human pillow 

Mickey could get very sulky because of how gorgeous his girlfriend was. Only because other guys were always hitting on her and he was worried she might find some muscular guy attractive and leave him for the other guy; though he knew that was absolutely insane, he loved you and he didn't want some other guy to get to love you the way he did. It would only take a few reassurances from her, a few kisses and snuggling with him and watching tv, or reminding him of all the reasons you loved him and he would calm down. He just loved you. So much 

Roman could, and would, get crazy jealous. But at the same time he was proud of her; she was fucking gorgeous and everyone knew it. Many girls at school were jealous of her, and along the streets the two often got ugly stares from people as they walked. But of course it was all pure jealousy from the guys who saw Roman’s hand in yours, and your hand around his waist that annoyed the petty teenage girls. Being the most attractive couple in town was taxing because of jealousy levels from others; of course people were always trying to steal you from Roman, and as much as he was jealous, he knew he could trust you. That wouldn't stop him from getting jealous, but it might stop an outrage 

The Kid didn't understand why he was so jealous at first when he saw some guy hitting on you in the street. He had never seen someone as gorgeous as you were, and he learned that it was apparent many other people in town hadn't either; often times people were jealous, and the kid wasn't really one for confrontation. If he was jealous he would mostly sulk and wait for you to come back to him. It would take a lot of reassuring from you that he was the only person you wanted, and that those other people were nowhere near stealing you from him. Cuddling with him when he was down about this was important, and telling him that you love him a lot. He was observant and saw that other guys were pretty jealous when they saw the two of you together, but there was nothing they could do about it now, and he soon got more comfortable. Dating such an attractive person was different than he'd imagined. Nobody in town could compare, and he was so, so lucky 

[emmyrosee]

Emmy

Just... Mark and the physical affection prompts 6 and 25.

Imagine 💛

PUH-URE

6. Chasing someone’s lips when they pull away

25. Playfully biting someone

———

“Since when are you so affectionate?”

Your voice holds nothing but love and amusement as Mark takes a sleepy inhale in, followed by a relaxed exhale with a wide smile splayed over his face. His head was buried in your neck as he hugged you as close as the beat up old couch in his dorm would allow, the whirring of the fans trying their hardest to break the thick heat in the room.

With his best friends gone for the weekend, you knew better than to leave him alone for too long, knowing he would be anywhere but home in search for any human contact; and more often than not, that meant linking up with former roommates where blackouts were law and cross fading was routine.

He was too close to graduation; the last thing you wanted was him choking at the last minute.

“You just smell good, ‘s all,” he mumbles against your skin, the vibrations making you chuckle at the strange feeling.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you sniff me, Mark.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird.”

“Dogs sniff each others asses and they don’t complain.”

“Mark.”

“Maybe that’s what-“

“I’d save whatever you’re about to save for later, Mark.”

You feel him smirk against your skin and plant gentle kisses over your neck, burying his nose just under your ear with another deep, obsessive inhale. “Make me,” he muses, sinking his teeth and pulling gently at the lobe of your ear, causing you to shriek and bat at his chest in surprise.

“Would you please!” You scold, unable to be taken seriously by even yourself as you giggle through your demand, and he tugs once more before letting go and shifting to hover over you. His floppy brown locks fall in front of his eyes, and you bite your lip and gently card them back. “You’re a creep.”

“I know,” he mumbles, leaning down to kiss you. He deepens the affection hungrily, using one of the hands holding him up to slip under your shirt, raising goosebumps over your skin. “Thank you for taking care of me while Ben and Cody are gone,” he says sincerely, nudging his nose with yours.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, returning the soft bump of your noses and chasing his lips softly. “I like affectionate Mark; he’s very cute.”

He smiles and leans down to kiss you again, pushing your shirt up higher. “I like you, baby.”

Couldn’t find it in yourself to call his bluff.

[hecohansen31]

Ohhh i love my Mark man so could you please write number 49 from the smut list with him?

WARNINGS: Mention of Stolen Panties, Male Masturbation, Slight Subby! Mark.

"I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer”.

You knew it wasn’t right for you to snoop in Mark’s room.

Although you had to admit that you hadn’t done it with any bad thought in your mind.

You had just been feeling cold, after you had come over to Mark’s house and he was asleep on the couch, having come back from a tough shift at work and fallen straight up asleep on the couch, meanwhile a movie ran in the back of the room.

Mark had insisted you tried to watch a movie, although you were sure that he’d be fast asleep a few minutes after it started.

You had thought of going in his room to simply grab a hoodie, meanwhile you let your lover sleep away his tiredness.

As you had taken an hoodie, a deep blue one with a cool logo on it, out of the drawers, you had been immediately comforted by Mark’s smell on it but also you had found something strangely lacey, hidden under it.

And it hadn’t taken you much more time to realize they were a pair of panties.

At first, you had thought the worst.

After your break-up with Mark and getting back together, you had discovered that he was much more than he let on, and he certainly wasn’t a player, although he looked every inch of it.

Hence your heart couldn’t help but break at the thought of somebody else’s panties being in his drawers, but you quickly calmed down and moved to touch with the fingertips of your right hand the panties, revealing much more to you as you suddenly you recognized them.

They were yours.

They were a pair you hadn’t worn much, mostly because they were lightly uncomfortable, so you tended to use them only on special occasion.

But for the rest of the time, they were left in the darkest side of your closet.

And now they were in Mark’s.

You and Mark lived separately, so he must have stolen them the last time he was over at your house.

But you didn’t really care in the slightest about how they had ended up there, but why.

You didn’t judge Mark, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel a complete blank space when you thought about why Mark would steal a pair of your panties.

A few ideas did come to your mind, but they just didn’t match up with the idea of Mark you were slowly destroying.

“Babe” you heard from the dining room of Mark’s small apartment, signaling to you that your boyfriend was awake “… is everything alright?”.

“Yeah yeah” you mumbled, almost feeling like you had been caught, and half wanted to hide again the panties.

But hiding your feelings hadn’t helped you or Mark in any way, so you simply moved where the voice came from, after you had worn the hoodie and hid the panties in your hands behind your back.

When you met him back, Mark was on the couch, having moved in a comfortable seated position, as he stretched his legs in front of himself, looking up at you with a sincere look of tenderness, almost as an happy pup, once his human had come back for him.

“… something wrong?” he mumbled, his words slurred by sleep, and you wanted to do nothing more than to come closer to him and hug him, as you cuddled him back to sleep.

But you had a burning question in your literal and not hand.

“Yeah… ahem…” you tried to find the best words, and then thought about straight up taking off the band-aid in one move “… I am not angry with you, babe, but…I've been missing these panties for weeks, tell me why I just found them in your drawer”.

And you exited the panties from behind your back, as Mark gasped loudly, before he turned his eyes down to his shoes, fidgeting with his hands, as he always did when he was nervous.

“… babe, there isn’t anything wrong, I am just…” you tried to calm him down “… I am just surprised”.

Mark seemed also extremely embarrassed and you thought about moving to sat down beside him to look less intimidating.

Mark might act all tough and cool, but he had a rather soft soul, that he felt comfortable enough to show you, stopping the entire ‘fuckboy’/’drunkard’ act, as he moved to enjoy the domestic joys of life with you.

“I just…” he was tomato red “… just missed you. I am sorry, I should have asked you…”:

“No, don’t worry, I don’t really wear them often… so…” you tried to ease him up, not letting any assumption appear in your voice, not wanting to make him feel at unease with you.

“It is a shame” muttered Mark, a glimpse of assholishness appearing in your eyes “… they make your ass looks great”.

You smirked at that, as you gently moved from his side onto his lap.

“Is that why you stole them?” your hands went through his short hair, as you ruffled them, before you grabbed them tightly, making Mark face you, that adorable blush appear on his face “…to remind you how good my ass looks in them”.

“… yes” he admitted tightly, as he gulped down a huge intake of saliva.

You came closer to him and dangled the panties in front of him.

“… did you jerk off with them, in your hands?” you continued on teasing him, feeling him falling down some hole and assuming a new persona, something he had never shown to you.

That you wanted to know more of.

“… did you got them dirty?”.

Now he was definitely shy.

But he got rock hard underneath you.

You didn’t know why this was also slowly getting to you.

Although if you had to give out a few ideas, it was probably for the vulnerability Mark was showing you.

“… c’mon, speak up, sweetie” you teased him, as he finally moved his eyes to yours “…I want to know what those panties were doing in your wardrobe”.

“What if I give you a replica?” although his tone was submissive, it had a strange taste of wickedness.

And you were won over.

“Oh, please do”.

[ggukkiereads]

Fic List | Daechwita AUs -Yoongi

This is based on an ask sent a few weeks ago. It was also timely because a few days later, BigHit dropped the sword-practice video (anon is channeling their inner minstradamus =))

So here you go, the day the earth stood still and thirst for Yoongi aka Agust D went rampant, resulting to birth of fics in honor of the king 😅🥰. I remember just binge-reading these for days. So thank you dear authors for feeding on our thirst and whipping out these wonderful fics!

Happy Birthday 🎂 to the coolest and the cutest MinYoongi! #TangerineKitty

S - smut | F - fluff | A - angst | 

Note: if link to fic doesn’t work, click on author and go to their masterlist (works even if author changed url)

Beloved @bang-tan-bitches - one shot | 17.4k | Emperor!Yoongi, Yandere, Thriller | Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win  | S   (this is ashasgfad! That ending)

Checkmate @btsaudge - one shot | 1.9k | King!Yoongi, Tyrant King except to Queen!reader | S, kinda F, PWP

Daechwita @bgyulix - drabble series [5/?]  | 4.5k | Dystopian AU, Childhood Friends, Gang AU, Rebel!Yoongi | a series of drabbles about yoongi and his spy, as they try and topple a king | A, F, S (promising concept)

Daechwita @chemicalpink - drabble series  [3/3] | 6k | Assassin!Reader who got caught, Servant!Reader, Emperor!Yoongi, Historical AU | A, S, F 

Daechwita @ironicarmy - one shot | 3.6k | King!yoongi x Queen!reader, royalty AU | S, PWP, F 🔥🥵💦

Daechwita @jinings - series [2/?] | 20k + | servant!yoongi - king!yoongi, princess!reader, period drama, Historical AU | All that Yoongi knows is that King Park must be killed- he just didn’t plan falling in love with his daughter along the way. | A, F, eventual S 

Daechwita @se0kie - one shot | 3.9k | King!Yoongi x Concubine!Reader, Royalty AU, established relationship (?),  with a twist in the end 😉 | S, PWP 

From the Ashes @fortunexkookie - one shot | 7.4k | Historical AU, Royalty AU, Star-crossed Lovers, inspired by the MV, scarred Yoongi | A, F, S (I love that it capitalized on the theories or snippets of info that came out during MV’s release. I remember reading something about royalty x scars) 

Gwanghae Flow @btssavedmylifeblr - one shot | 3k | Historical PWP | The queen receives a forbidden visitor in the middle of the night | S 

Honsool @bangtanlalaland - one shot | 2.3k | emperor!yoongi x gisaeng!reader  | a little F, S, PWP

Kingdom of Joseon @dreamescapeswriting -  one shot | 7.9k | Agust D x Suga, historical AU | F, A

Make Me Proud @moonscriptsx - one shot | 5.6k | this is kind of different because it is about Daechwita the mixtape, established relationship, Idolverse, Idol!Reader | With the release of his second mixtape and her album, the public are eating up the so-called chart rivalry between (Y/N) and Yoongi | S, PWP, F

Mark of Yun-ki @ladyartemesia - one shot | 8.6k | Hybrid AU/ABO, Fantasy AU, Daechwita AU | S, F

Moonlit Throne @hobidreams - drabble series [29/?] | 40k | Historical AU (Joseok era), Royalty AU, inspired by Daechwita MV | S, F, A 

Rise of the Nation’s King @justimajin - two shot [2/2] | 19k | Historical AU, Royalty AU, like the MV there’s King Agust and Yoongi | A, F, S 

Shadow’s Birthright @thebiasrekkers - series [5/?] | 19k | Historical AU (Joseon era), Fantasy AU, Supernatural AU, Magic, romance, tragedy, eventual love triangle (?), King Yoon vs Min Yoongi  | “two princes are born. But a crown cannot be shared” | A, F, S (this is so fascinating) 

Stay @luffles424 - one shot | 3k | Historical AU, Assassin!Reader, PWP | S, F

Step on Me @honsoolie - drabble | 2k | crack, Idol AU, Yoongi’s shooting for Daechwita MV and reader is the extra (the one Agust D needed to step on during the video 🤣) | F 

Tiger Layer @kimtaehyunq - one shot | 3.6k | King Yoongi, Servant!Reader, You are here to serve your king. In any way he pleases, PWP (lol I remember author used “Yoongi’s royal d*ck” and I cannot forget, cannot unsee 🤣)| S, PWP 🔥🥵💦

The King Isn’t Dead @another-army-spot​ - one shot | 17k | historical AU, political AU, royalty au, potential marriage AU | S, F, A

Whispers @btxtreads - drabble series [4/4] | Historical AU, Yunki vs Yoongi (like in the MV), Empress!Reader, Time Travel (?) | F, A 

The King’s Serpent @apotaeose - drabble | 1.6k | King!Yoongi x Mercenary!Reader | A, light S & F

Note: the fics are Daechwita MV-inspired (the mad king vs rebel yoongi) or about the Daechwita mixtape. This doesn’t include other emperor/king yoongi aus

🌷 posted: 2021 March 9 (KST); updated: 2021 March 14 🌷 other lists 🌷 I love to read so feel free to recommend a fic =)

[pentechnics]

A Strange Duet Masterlist

Assassin!Din x Princess!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: You are a princess, next in line for Sorgan’s throne, and an assassin is sent to kill you. Not just any assassin, though: a Mandalorian. The best of the best. They never miss a mark.

Especially not Din Djarin.

The job? Do away with you before your coronation takes place. Child’s play to someone of his experience. He masquerades as a worker in the castle to try and get to you.

But then the most unexpected development occurs. One that threatens his mission, his nation, and his life.

The one thing that an assassin is never meant to do.

He starts to fall in love with his target.

Series Content: medieval-ish AU, assassin!Din, princess!reader, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, falling in love, angst, mentions of injuries/scars, depictions of violence, usage of weapons, Din’s POV and reader’s POV, side character death (of OCs; no SW characters will die)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Extras:

Playlist

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk (teaser)

➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader

➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

➵ word count: 484 (teaser) / 30.8k

➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.

only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison),  jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love). 

➳ publish date: saturday, october 14th 8pm EST

➳ a/n: this fic is part of the "industry baby" collab hosted by the lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk! i'm so happy to finally release this fic in honor of spy x family season 2!

smut warnings below the cut!

➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot

It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins. 

“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours. 

Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?

Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating. 

But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee. 

Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.” 

Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.” 

After all, this is just pretend. 

But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner. 

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

check it out here!

[azenkii]

 ATLA Fic Rec 

because I've been spending way too much time reading it. Btw, this is a rec for gen fics and zukka fics.

Note: an asterisk after the description means that the fic or series is incomplete. (Sadly, this is a lot of them, but I'm pretty sure most of these fics are still currently updating.)

GEN:

Anything by MuffinLance is a must-read. my personal favourites are Salvage (where Hakoda ends up with one (1) grumpy new prisoner/crewmate/adopted son) and Little Zuko v the World (where Zuko is 12, and it's adorable).

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris is a god-tier platonic soulmate au about zuko and the gaang, so like...go read that right now

The kintsugi series by discordiansamba is an AU where Toph's parents hire Zuko-as-Lee to be a bodyguard for her, and I love it so much. It has some of the best Toph-and-Zuko sibling bonding I've ever seen. *

Dragon Moon by Satirrian is a Dragon! Zuko AU and it's incredible. It also features Bounty Hunter Zuko, so do with that what you will. *

The What We're Given series by Haicrescendo is *chef's kiss*. It's an AU where Zuko flipped his father off early on into his banishment and started living his best life with Iroh. Enter the Gaang. Shenanigans ensue. *

The Internment series by Hannahmayski is another Zuko breaks free from his dad early AU, and it's also really good. Basically, Zuko was never given the option to capture the Avatar, making his banishment indefinite. He sails around with his crew fighting the Fire Nation and it's great. *

The best way to solve your problems (is to help someone else) by hewwodarkness is an AU where kids start disappearing in Ba Sing Se during Book 2, and Zuko takes it upon himself to do a little vigilantism. It's fantastic. *

The Blue Spirit AU series by H_Faith_Marr is an AU starting from, surprise surprise, the Blue Spirit episode. The Gaang takes in Zuko without knowing who he is, and the Power of Friendship™ goes to work on Zuko. *

The the first rule of earth kingdom fight club... series by ohmygodwhy is an AU where Zuko, among other things, fights in underground cage matches, meets Toph early, and realises that his dad might be wrong. It’s pretty funny and really good. *

The The Non-Existent Twin series by FoiblePNoteworthy is hilarious. It's an AU where Zuko poses as his own twin, Li, and the Gaang buys it hook line and sinker. *

The Guilt (The Jet Adopts Zuko AU) series by FoiblePNoteworthy is also really good. Like the title says, it’s a Zuko joins the Freedom Fighters AU. *

The new ways series by blueseam is just a Zuko and the Gaang bonding fic, mostly set in the Western Air Temple, with a side of Zuko not taking care of himself and the Gaang stepping up to the job. If you’re like me and am an absolute sucker for Zuko and the Gaang, go read this.

The Family Matters series by WinterSky101 is a really good fic if you’re looking for Hakoda and Zuko. That’s all I have to say: Hakoda and Zuko.

a nation, held by snowdarkred is a GREAT Fire Nation & Zuko fic - set before and during canon, not after it. Go read it, right now.

Notable mentions: a lot of works by naggeluide are gen and pretty funny, though if you don't headcanon any of the characters as LGBT+ you might not like some of them.

ZUKKA:

anything by Haicrescendo and dickpuncher420. For Haicrescendo, my personal favourite is the Carry On For You series, and for dickpuncher420, it’s love language.

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian is a modern AU that just borders on dystopian. Ba Sing Se has been overtaken by the Fire Nation, Zuko is a soldier who broke away from the Fire Nation and got shot for it, and Sokka finds Zuko on the street and brings him inside. It’s amazing, go read it!

do you take this jerk to be (your one and only) by jatersade is a fic that I’m 90% sure is on every zukka fic rec list, and it deserves to be. It’s an arranged marriage AU where Zuko is engaged to Yue, and Sokka is his cultural guide. *

midnight runs and other things by isamagicdragon is a modern AU where Zuko keeps sleepwalking into Sokka’s apartment. Shenanigans ensue. Also, top-tier Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee interactions. *

Unchained Melody by avocadolove is another fic that I see a lot on rec lists, and it 100% deserves it. It’s a long fic (as of now, it’s at 63.8k) and is an AU where Sokka, after getting taken to the Spirit World by Heibai, ends up as a ghost that only Zuko can see. Ft. great enemies-to-friends-to-lovers and an incredible plot. *

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought is SO good. It’s an AU where, instead of being banished, Zuko was sent to work in a coal mine/prison, which eventually becomes the target of a Water Tribe raid after Aang’s return. It can get pretty dark, so watch out for that, and it’s really long (as of now, 168.8k). But trust me, it’s worth it. *

Heart Beat Here by thefangirlingdead is an adorable Modern AU oneshot where Zuko, while shopping for engagement rings with Katara, freaks out when Sokka lies about where he is. It’s a happy ending, don’t worry. One of my favourite fics.

feels like we only go backwards by oldpotatoe and A Certain Slant of Light by JustGettingBy are both amnesia fics where Sokka loses his memory several years after the war. They’re both so, so good. A Certain Slant of Light is finished, but feels like we only go backwards is not.

reality strikes, so bring back the night by zukkababey is a time-travel oneshot where Western-Air-Temple Sokka wakes up in the future to find his older self married to one (1) Fire Lord Zuko. Fluffy and funny. 

maybe i just see you (in everything) by epicbubbles is a really cute Modern AU oneshot with love confessions and just fluff all around. 10/10 go read it!!

it’s the illusion of separation by argentoswan is a fic that has legendary status and it absolutely deserves it. God-tier Modern AU where Sokka ends up working at the Jasmine Dragon alongside his former high school bully, Zuko. (Kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, and it’s just...SO good. *

say you like your shirt soggy by crosspin is a reallyyy nice 5+1 fic. It’s Modern AU, and it’s pretty short (3.7k), but the amount of yearning that gets packed into that 3.7k,,,,*chef’s kiss*

and they were roommates by flydunes is another Modern AU where sokka puts up an ad for a roommate. Zuko moves in, and Sokka gets a crush. It’s just good vibes all around :) *

like blood from a stone by catalinacat is a Soulmate AU that took a completely different direction with the soulmate trope. The summary does a better job of explaining it than I can. *

absence of heat, excess of destiny by theycallmesuperboy is one of the best soulmate AUs out there. it’s not too long, only 4.3k words, but it covers the entire series and then some. Seriously, go read this.

it isn’t strange, but it’s true by theholyterror is a 5+1 post-canon fic with some of the best pining I’ve ever seen, ft. Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko. The 5+1 is times Zuko went out of his way to touch Sokka.  *

like the sun inside of you by ofherlionheart is another post-canon fic, and it’s incredible so far. the first chapter alone is 23k, so it’s already a decently long read. *

the stemverse: earth science zuko au series by acezukos is a REALLY good Modern/University AU. So far, it only has one work (earth system history) but that work is already *chef’s kiss*. The series is incomplete, but earth system history is complete!

rebellion’s such a hushed affair by zeitgeistofnow is a fantastic Modern AU that, like sirens & sleepless nights, borders on dystopian. Actually, I think it is dystopian, but it hasn’t been tagged as such. Anyway, 10/10, go read it right now immediately

Mark Time by foil is a Modern AU where Sokka ghosted Zuko years ago, and they get brought back together by Aang and Katara’s wedding. It’s really good, but the fic has some pretty heavy content, so make sure you read the warnings. *

That birds would sing and think it were not night by HisMomoness is a Modern AU that has Zuko tutoring Sokka, with absolute top-tier pining. Like, seriously, the pining is insane. Superr good

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by meliebee is one of the best post-canon fics I’ve ever read. It features a civil war in the Fire Nation (that gets resolved about halfway through) and some great Toph and Zuko interactions, as well as some Grade A pining. 

boy problems by burnt_oranges is FANTASTIC post-canon and has sokka and zuko in an accidental arranged marriage, plus some attempted assassinations. It’s great.

zuko vs the homie sexual agenda by parmigiano has Zuko and Sokka pining for each other in Ikea. Do I need to say more?

Friendship Bracelets by peachcitt is a Modern AU best friends to lovers. Pretty short (4.9k), but the pining is immaculate.

isn’t this the vision that you wanted by nebulastucky is INCREDIBLE, I read it recently because it just got completed and it’s *chef’s kiss*. It’s post-canon ft. mutual pining and some reallyyy good ‘and there was only one bed’ scenes.

Real Slow and no one knows anything but us by surveycorpsjean and quidhitch respectively are two of my favourite post-canon Ambassador Sokka and Fire Lord Zuko fics. Go check them out!

The Duke’s a Hazard by naggeluide is a really nice AU starting from the Western Air Temple, where the Duke decides that Sokka and Zuko are now his new parents. They bond over coparenting, and the (kind of) enemies-to-friends-to-lovers is really good. Plus, it’s funny.

Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic and VSfic is a really good fic of the Spymaster Sokka AU. If you don’t know what that is, it’s an AU where Sokka fakes his death and goes undercover in an organisation that wants to kill Zuko.

Fics I added after posting (so far, all Zukka):

The Road Between Action and Inaction by Donvex is a fic that I can't believe I left out the first time?? It's a modern hitchhiking AU and it's great.

Rituals of the Ocean Floor by Donvex is a nice one too. It's only around 2.2k words, but it's a Fox Spirit!Zuko and Sharkman!Sokka AU, and I just really like the writing style.

by the stars above, i knew we were in love by theycallmesuperboy and The Fate of Nations in Our Hands by sapphic_ambitions are both top-tier post-canon fics. Be warned: by the stars above is a liiiittle bit angsty.

blue's clues by parmigiano is a really good Modern AU where Sokka, a university student journalist, gets ahold of the phone number of the Blue Spirit, a new campus vigilante. He ends up talking to the Blue Spirit to get an interview out of him, and it's really cute!

Honourable mention: the Avatar Zuko series by the_cloud_whisperer is one of the best series I've ever read, and it's really long - it got completed about a month ago, with 493.6k words in total (415k if you ignore the extra work made up of author's notes). It develops all the characters really well, especially Lu Ten, but the main ship is Zukaang. Personally, my biggest problem with Zukaang is the age difference, and Aang is aged up to be Zuko's age (or older, I think? I don't really remember) in this. I kept reading it because the plot was too good to give up, and I do highly recommend it, but yeah.

I’ll add more fics if I remember them, but this is what I had bookmarked. Also, shameless self plug here because I also write ATLA fic @ azenki on ao3

[sir-skarsgard]

Cuddling

Prompt/summary: Cuddling with some of Bill Skarsgård’s characters because currently he is the love of my life with those pouty lips 

Word count: 937

Warnings/contents: Cuteness overload? Bill Skarsgård honestly is a warning himself with those eyes and those lips 

Notes: None, just enjoy! And if there’s any requests feel free to send them in anytime 

Axel is a big cuddler. He loves being close to you like he’s not with anyone else. He’ll wrap his arms around you after a long day, snuggling his face into your neck and breathing in your scent and basking in your warmth like a lizard. He will straight up say he wants cuddles, attention, and affection, he’s not shy at all. He could cuddle for hours after a long day. So long that maybe you’d have to force him off you to either go to the bathroom or get food, and even then you have to go back with him to cuddle because he’ll give you puppy eyes and it’s not possible to say no to that face, unless you’re cold hearted 

Bob is a soft baby. He needs lots of cuddles and assurances that everything is good between the two of you. He’s been beaten by Bowers and other kids around the circus that thought ‘Pennywise’ was stupid. All this cuddly boy wants to do is lay his head on your stomach and wrap his arms around you while you play with his hair and whisper sweet things to him. He’d also die to be spooned by you, softly peppering kisses along the back his neck, using your arm as his pillow and having one of your arms wrapped around him to hold him close against you, your legs tangled up with his 

Henry is a soft baby. He loves cuddling. He loves wrapping you up in his arms, peppering kisses along your face, and grinning at your laughter. He likes to lay down with you and spoon; he enjoys being the little spoon, but he also enjoys holding you close against his chest, snuggling his face into your neck or shoulder and falling asleep with you, your legs wrapped up with his, his arm being your pillow and his other arm laid near your stomach, your hand laid on top of his and your other hand left dangling off the bed or couch 

Mark wouldn’t really initiate cuddling. He would prefer to wait for you to come to him and burrow your face into his lap or wrap his arm around you and cuddle into his side. It’ll always make him smile, no matter what, as he relaxes and let’s you cuddle him. He loves cuddling truthfully, because he needs the affection, but he’s almost afraid to admit he needs attention. But he will always appreciate how open you are with your ability to just say what you want romantically and do it. He likes being a big spoon, but if you were to come over and wrap your arms around him while he’s on his side, he won’t complain, just cuddle into your chest and fall asleep with your warmth against his back and your soft kisses along his neck 

Merkel is definitely a big spoon, as well as a lay on his back while you fall asleep on him, as well as a personal body pillow for you to lay on top of and fall asleep on, his hand underneath your shirt, gently tracing little patters on your spine kind of guy. He’ll love spooning you, keeping you as close as possible, smiling every time you scooted closer to him, and holding his hand. He also loves when you lay beside him, curled up with one of your legs hiked across his waist, his arm wrapped around you, running his fingers along the skin of your arm, your fingers tracing little patters on his stomach or chest, whether you’re both either naked or clothed 

Mickey loves cuddling with you. He likes building a fort with you made of pillows and blankets and couch cushions, and laying on a big comforter with a pillow beneath your heads, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. Whether you’re spooning or he’s on his back and has an arm around you, he just loves being close to you and feeling you, warm and sleepy, in his arms. He also likes when you lay on top of him, his arms wrapped around you, kissing your forehead and rubbing your back underneath your shirt 

Roman is a big spoon or wrap his arm around you while you fall asleep on his chest/shoulder area type of guy. He’ll keep you close to him either way, mainly spooning you, his hand slipped underneath your shirt most likely cupping his large hand around your boob, his other arm underneath a pillow beneath your head, his face buried into your neck and giving you soft kisses along your shoulder and neck. Sometimes it would turn into more, and sometimes you’d both fall asleep, cuddled together underneath a blanket in his room, sometimes holding hands 

The Kid is a little spoon and there is nothing that will change my mind. While he certainly could be a big spoon, holding you close to his chest, his legs wrapped around yours, a hand wrapped around your stomach and keeping you close, your hand in his on your stomach, maybe underneath your shirt or a big hoodie. However, he loves your arms around him, holding him against your chest, your hand wrapped around him, one of your arms underneath his head, peppering kisses along the back of his neck and whispering sweet words into his ears, making him blush, and calling him ‘baby’ and sometimes playing with his soft hair, making him smile, and press a soft kiss to your hand or arm, whatever is closest and falling asleep in your arms. He’s a touch starved baby and he craves your warmth 

[emmyrosee]

I have a request if you don't care. How would each of Bill’s characters react to you telling them that you are pregnant with their baby? Would they act happy or freak out ❤️

MAH HEART🥺

—————-

Axel and Henry would just be the biggest smiles and grins as he smothers you in kisses, arms wrapped tight around you. He would just be wordless, so happy and eager for this chapter of your life, and have you by his side forever.

Gordan would honestly, be a little melancholic. Because of course he wants to bring in a beautiful life with you. A family, a small house on a quiet street, every thing. That’s all he ever wants.

But his work, it causes a lot of concern. Your safety, and connections to you he might have, now he has to do the same precautions for his child; not to mention all he might miss. It’s hard for him, but he makes you a promise to try.

That’s all he can offer you, but it’s plenty to make you feel safe, because Gordan’s never broken a promise.

Mark- okay. Mark would be a pretty nervous wreck, but do not discount that from his excitement. Mark is excited to be a father, excited to have you by his side.

But he’s scared too; he knows how he was in his younger years, and he’s worried they’ll be the same. And may the gods look over whatever unlucky soul his possible-daughter brings home, especially if they’re like him when he was a kid.

Mickey- just give him all the babies. ALL OF THE CHILDREN. Every time he suspects that your pregnant, he waits on you hand and foot, and is a complete wreck when you tell him that you’re not.

But when you finally are?

Good god.

He goes to ALL the classes, picks up ALL the extra work he can so his kids can have the safest and most exciting toys and treat you to whatever you may want, and he’s there through it all.

Mickey’s parents were young and naive when they had him. They loved him, but they couldn’t do it right. But he will. And he would rather die than let anything happen to or disappoint you.

Roman is terrified. TERRIFIED. Much like Mark, he’s terrified that his little one is going to be just like him, and he’s going to be just like his dad, whether that means J.R., or Norman, but he doesn’t want to be either.

He’s probably a little cold for a while, convinced it’s not his, but it isn’t until you don’t leave, you don’t pack your things and scorn him for not being a good man that he collapses and tells you all of his fears, crying against you and cradling you’re stomach in his large hands while you just hold him back.

The kid is very excited, but I feel like he knew before you (HA). He could feel the changes in the air, see some of your bodily changes and one morning, probably the morning you were planning on telling him, he comes in, wraps his gangly arms around your waist with a large hand on your tummy.

“You know, don’t you, baby?” You ask, and he hums softly.

“We’re having a baby..” he whispers in your hair, a smile tugging at his cheeks.

Willard- okay. You have to tell Willard when he’s not doing anything or holding anything fragile, because he will instantly drop everything and fall to his knees, gazing up at you like you’re some divine being blessing him with a beautiful baby.

He is just so beyond any description of excitement, so eager to start this life with you, and much like Mickey, picks up extra work so the baby can grow up in a good home with food on the table every night.

🥰🥰🥰

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Are there any fics where John begins to date men and Sherlock gets jealous because of it and there actually is a plot-not necessarily though?

Hi Nonny!

AHHH I’ve actually started a list similar, and I CAN’T remember if it was because of your ask or because of someone else’s, but yours is the one I found first, so HERE WE GO! Yes, I do have some fics related to this topic! Check them out! :D

As always, feel free to add your own fics, my friends. I know there’s a lot and I need them all!!!! I LOVE a jealous Sherlock fic, ESPECIALLY if it’s because John’s flirting with another man. 

(JEALOUS SHERLOCK BECAUSE) JOHN DATES A / TALKS TO A MAN

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

Matters of National Security by mistyzeo (E, 8,465 w., 1 Ch. || BAMF John, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Dating, Bisexuality, Arguing, Stupidity, Teasing, First Kiss/Time, Hand Jobs, Frottage, RST, Idiots in Love) – John starts dating a male client of Sherlock's, and Sherlock can't figure out why he's so incensed about it.

High Tide by stardust_made (T, 8,540 w., 1 Ch. || Jealousy, Angst, First Kiss) – A little favour Sherlock stupidly agrees to do for Mycroft leads to John meeting a handsome, afluent man, who is going out of his way to woo him. Sherlock struggles with the situation and with his own reactions to it. Part 1 of The High Tide Series

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

Let's Make a Bed Out in the Rain by theimprobable1 (M, 17,664 w., 11 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, First Kiss, Unrequited, Jealous Sherlock, Protective Sherlock) – John is devastated after his long-term girlfriend leaves him. Sherlock helps him through it.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w., 64 Ch. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John

The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 w., 15 Ch. || Sickfic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional H/C, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a "harmless" virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Hand Jobs / Oral Sex) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

[jj-lynn21]

Take a Hike, Mark

Warnings: Angst and fluff

“What the fuck are we going to do today? There is fucking nothing to fucking do in this fuck virus-soaked world.” Mark blubbered. “We can’t even get into a good club because they are fucking only letting fifty people in for the whole night. And there is nowhere you can go and just breath fresh air not through a fucking mask.”  

“Take a hike, Mark.” Princess huffed. 

They had a stare down for five minutes straight. Mark’s eyes were wide. His mouth dropped in shock. She stood her ground with her hands on her hips.  

“I am serious, Mark.” Her stare did not budge. “You need to take a hike. Get this shit out of your system instead of screaming at me like I am some sound board that noise just bounces off. I know it is all a huge shit show.”

“You can’t,” he stammered. “you can’t kick me out. This is my fucking guest house. Why are you being such a fucking Bitch.”

She glares, “I think you better rephrase that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He said sarcastically. “This is my parents’ guest house so you can’t fucking kick me out.”

Smirking, she shook her head. “I am not kicking you out of our place you dumb-ass. And, don’t you dare call me a bitch. Now get your fucking hiking boots on and meet me outside. I need some air without you.” She walks out slamming the door behind her.

Mark has a wounded puppy look on his face. He hustles to get his boots on to go meet her outside. “I'm so sorry, Princess. I get so claustrophobic inside this place day in and day out. I can do whatever you want, Babe.”

“We are going to the forest park with all the trails.” Princess insisted calmly. “We are going to hike to the little waterfall area where the water crashes on the rocks real loud. And we are going to scream all this nonsense out of our system. Do you feel all right to drive, or would you like me to? ”

He gets on his knees hugging his girl around the waist looking up at her. “I fucking love you.”

She carded his hair, “I love you to, brat. I think I should drive.”  

Mark nods. They get into the jag. As she drove, Mark lays on her shoulder craving that primal moment. He tickles his fingers up and down her inner thigh.  

Princess slides his hand away, “I know your sorry. You need to keep your hands idle, off of me right now.”

Mark moves his hand off her lap. “Can we fuck in the wood by the waterfall?”

She chuckles. “We will see. It depends on if we see anyone else. I am absolutely positive you will feel really good after you scream until your voice gives out.”  

“Is that why you were horse when you got home from grocery shopping the other day?” Mark smirks as he sits up straight in his seat.

“Yes, well mostly.” She pulled into the parking area. There were two other cars there. “The grocery sore was stressful, and I returned the rage that someone gave to me.”

“That’s my girl.” Mark smiled. “Don’t let anyone fuck with you, Princess.”  

“It wasn’t right.” She shook her head as she turns the car off. “I am just glad no one had their cellphone recording in the seconds I cracked.”  

She got out. Mark got out and rushed around to hug her. “I’m sorry. You should have told me. I can go for groceries next time or we can just get everything delivered.”

She leans into his embrace. “Later. We can discuss this later. Let’s walk.”

They walked hand in hand for a while down one of the six trails. They didn’t see another soul. Mark pulled her over to wide trucked tree. She giggled as he pinned her there licking his plump lips. She looked up at him breath picking up slightly as he leaned in. His nose nuzzling hers for a moment before his kisses made her melt. Her arms wrapped around him as he deepened sliding his tongue in her opening mouth.  

The snap of a stick makes her eyes fly open. She pushes him away running down the path to the water's edge just as an older man goes through with his walking stick. Mark chuckles waving to the guy as he rushes off to follow his girl. He swoops her up.  

“Are you going to carry me the rest of the way?” She giggled.

“Sure, why not.” Mark chuckled.

“Okay, horsey.” She kissed his cheek. “Carry me on your back.”

Mark put her down. Then he got down low so she could easily get on his back. Before she could barely get situated, she was rising off the ground to a height slightly above him. She screamed happily raising her hands in the air as he held her on. He neighed and scuffed his foot on the ground like a horse as she laughed hysterically.  

“Go horsey,” She swatted his bottom. “Take me to the waterfall.”

Mark galloped along with Princess on his back until they came to a bridge. “I think the ride is over Babe. The bridge is too low for you to stay up there. But did you have fun?”

She slid down slowly. “Yeah, I have quite the stallion.”

Mark Winked, “You know it, Princess.”  

They ran across the bridge. The waterfall was to the left on the other side. They sat on a large rock, her in his arms as the sun started to set. Purple, pink and orange hues lit up the sky. He turned her face to kiss her again.  

When she got a breath she murmured, “You ready to do it.”

“Hell yeah,” He grinned.  

She stood. He was a bit surprised. She took his hand pulling him up.  

“Time to scream it all out.” She started screaming into the early evening air.

“Seriously?” Mark chuckled.

“Just do it, Mark.” She screamed again. “It's the best.”

He started screaming. And she was screaming. The waterfall made a shrill gargle as it cascaded on to the rocks below it muffling most of their sound.They screamed until the man with the walking stick yelled to them, “Are you kids okay?”

“We are fine. Sir.” Mark cleared his scratchy throat. “Stress relief.”

“I get it.” The man said. “The whole world has gone mad. You ought to be heading back to your car. It is harder to navigate the trail in the dark.”

“Yes, Sir.” He said respectfully.  

The man walked off back across the bridge thinking how crazy young people these days were.  

Mark and Princess screamed a few more times until their voices had nothing more. They made it back to their car before the last of the sunshine dipped out off site letting the crescent moon replace it. Mark drove them home holding her hand the whole way. He felt much better than he did. This might just have to become a weekly excursion.  

[yellowcanna]

Promise of a Lifetime

Summary:

“Where have you been, Xiao?! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Hu Tao shouted, grabbing Xiao’s hand and dragging him into the parlour where Zhongli was waiting.

“Master,” Xiao dipped his head towards Zhongli who was standing there looking at him…apologetically?

Xiao instantly had a bad feeling, and that feeling came true when Hu Tao went on a ramble about how they received a huge sum of mora. The green-haired youth gritted his teeth and took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm.

“Young master,” he stopped the girl who wasn’t getting anywhere other than mora. “These mora you mentioned…were they by chance given by Tartaglia?”

“Yep!” Hu Tao answered cheerfully, not the slightest bit ashamed in admitting that she had once again sold Xiao to the bastard.

The corner of Xiao’s lips twitched, but he controlled himself as to not show any form of disrespect towards Hu Tao and Zhongli.

“May I ask what is requested of me this time?”

“Simple! You just have to attend a party as his lady partner!”

Xiao was going to kill Tartaglia.

[AU where the gods and adepti are humans in Teyvat and Xiao was a former assassin of the Abyss Order]

Genre: Fluff, Canon Divergence, hurt/comfort, touched-starved, Enemies to friends to lovers, shounen-ai

Rating: T

Pairing: Childe/Xiao

Author: Canna / Yellow Canna

╔ ✦✧✦ ═══════════╗

Available on AO3!!

╚═══════════ ✦✧✦ ╝

It was a bright sunny day in Liyue Harbour.

The green-haired youth sat on the open windowsill with one leg propped up and his elbow resting upon his knee. His bright, cobalt yellow eyes gazed out to the endless blue sky without a speck of cloud.

He closed his eyes when a warm breeze blew by, carrying the scent that was exclusive to Liyue. Feeling something settling down onto his elbow, he opened his eyes and was greeted by a little brown sparrow. The tiny bird chirped and hopped around his arm. Xiao didn’t move. He quietly observed the bird jumping all over him. And then, the serenity was ruined by the sound of footsteps before the door was rudely opened without any knocks.

The sparrow squawked and flew away while the youth heaved out an irritated breath.

“I figured you’d be here, Xiao!” A cheerful voice greeted, but the youth on the windowsill didn’t move.

He stared at the sky, determined to ignore the nuisance behind him.

The intruder didn’t mind the silent treatment. He sat down by the table at the center of the room where there was a teapot and a cup of half-drunken tea that had already gone cold. He picked up the ceramic cup and drank the remaining content.

That earned some reaction from the youth who glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

“The master is away,” Xiao finally spoke. Although he tried to keep his voice indifferent like he usually does, there was a mild irritation which the other man was keenly able to pick up.

“I know,” the man smiled around the rim of the cup before setting it back onto the table. He reached for the teapot and poured himself some more tea. “I’m not here for Mr. Zhongli.”

“Young master Hu is away as well.”

“I’m not here for your young master either,” the brunet took a small sip on the hot tea and frown. “I don’t get why the people of Liyue prefer hot drinks when their climate is so warm. Wouldn’t cold tea be more convenient?”

Xiao didn’t respond and turned his attention back to the outside. Instead of looking at the sky, he was now eyeing the street below.

“Hey now, don’t be so eager to leave!” The man chuckled, easily seeing through what Xiao was thinking. “Aren’t you at least curious what I came here for?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun,” the man lamented with a soft sigh. “Someone is after my life.”

“I see,” Xiao turned around to fully face the man. “The Wangsheng Funeral Parlour will accept to host your funeral. Come back once you've brought the necessary funds.”

“Hahaha!” The man laughed. “Looks like staying in this old place has rubbed off on you! I didn’t think I would ever hear you crack a joke!”

Xiao just stared at the man impassively.

“Fine, I’ll get to the point. I need your help.”

“I refuse.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” He pleaded. “Help a friend out.”

“I don’t recall ever being friends with you.”

“How could you say that after all of our bonding time?”

Xiao’s brow twitched upon remembering what this man viewed as bonding time. This man would keep pestering him, keep pushing his buttons, keep crossing the boundaries until Xiao couldn’t take it anymore and in the end, they would always clash with their blades.

Xiao could still clearly recall his first meeting with the man around this time last year.

As an envoy from Snezhnaya and one of the Eleven Harbingers—Queen Tsaritsa’s Royal Knights, this man known as Tartaglia was a formidable opponent.

The first time Xiao met this man was through his saviour and master, Zhongli. Xiao knew little about the world of business, so Zhongli brought him outside to see the world.

When Xiao first laid his eyes on the Harbinger with ochre brown hair, he knew he wouldn’t get along with him and he was right. The next time they met, this man came up to him and brought up his past.

This envoy from another nation had dug his claws deep into Liyue and pulled out a secret that was meant to be buried, and that was the Yaksha.

For as long as Xiao could remember, he was already walking within the darkness—chained and broken. Perhaps there had been a time when he was freed, but it was a time he couldn’t remember anymore. With a slave mark engraved into his soul, Xiao was powerless against the creature he was forced to acknowledge as master. Without his master's command, he couldn't even take his own life.

The Abyss Order was the name of the organization and Xiao was one of their few human slaves that survived. Since young, Xiao was trained to become an assassin and spy so that the Abyss Order can keep their eyes on each nation. Because he was originally from Liyue, that was where they assigned him to. Due to the demon mask he wore whenever in a battle or assassination, he was given the name of the Yaksha by the citizens of Liyue as a symbol of their fears and hatred.

Xiao could no longer remember how many people he had killed. All he knew was that two years ago, all seven nations combined their powers to finally rid Teyvat of the Abyss Order. During that battle, Xiao was naturally called upon the battlefield where he met Zhongli.

Though the man claimed to be a councillor from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, he was in reality part of the Qixing. Zhongli was the only person who saw through the slave mark binding Xiao and freed him from the chains that had bound him for so long instead of slaughtering him like the rest of the Abyss Order.

The name Xiao was the new identity given to him and since then, Xiao had settled within the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour.

Xiao never understood why Zhongli would go through so much trouble when it was easier to kill him. Even though Xiao may not want to be saved, he was nevertheless grateful for the man’s kindness—as well as Hu Tao’s for giving him a place to stay. Xiao was never one to take anything for granted. Since they extended their kindness to him, he must repay them.

It was as simple as that.

A year following that battle, he tried to live putting the past behind him, yet talks of the Yaksha would still be heard from time to time. There were still people investigating the origin of the Yaksha, for that the demon mask in Xiao’s possession oddly resembled the mask of an ancient clan of exorcists that was annihilated twenty years ago.

Though Xiao heard the rumours, he never bothered to investigate the truths behind it because it did not matter anymore. That clan was no more and even if there were survivors, Xiao doubted they would accept him—especially when he was the one who had killed so many of these exorcists during his time in the Abyss Order.

For a whole year, Xiao’s real identity was only known to Zhongli. Not even the other Qixing or Hu Tao knew about his identity.

No one had ever linked the Yaksha to Xiao.

No one but the Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia.

Tartaglia had found out about Xiao’s identity as the Yaksha and confronted him at Tianqiu Valley when Xiao was sent there on a task. He even used his identity to provoke Xiao. Enraged by the man’s action, Xiao drew his spear for the first since the battle that ended the Abyss Order.

Xiao had gone all out, even donning the mask Zhongli had specifically told him not to bring out. Tartaglia had put on a mask of his own, wielding both Vision and Delusion. The whirlwind summoned by Xiao’s power mixed with the violent rain and lightning from Tartaglia created a storm Liyue had never seen before.

Had Zhongli not arrived in time to stop their fight, one of them would surely die that night.

The third time they met was two days after when the man waltzed into his room as though nothing had ever happened. Needless to say, another fight broke out between them and half of the parlour was blown apart.

Hu Tao was hysterical when she returned to find the second floor of the parlour completely gone. However, that matter was swiftly settled when the Fatui shamelessly offered to reconstruct the entire building and even expanding it as compensation.

Since then, whenever Tartaglia dropped by, the young master would look at Xiao with stars in her eyes, desperately hoping for the two to start another fight.

As much as Xiao tried not to, he was still provoked into stabbing the man on multiple occasions. Each time something within the parlour was destroyed, Tartaglia would pay for it. Eventually, this became a pattern and Xiao’s fight became the highest source of income for Wangsheng Funeral Parlour.

“Leave, I have no interest in fighting with you.”

“I’m not here for a fight this time.” The brunet rested his chin into his palm. “I need your help, Xiao Xiao~”

“Do not call me that,” Xiao gritted.

“But you let the young master call you that—Ah! Wait, wait!” He called when Xiao had already gotten up, crouching on the windowsill and preparing to jump out any moment. “I got information that someone is plotting against me and there’s a high chance of assassination. Unfortunately, the mastermind’s identity is covered up pretty well so my men are having trouble locating them. I want to hire your help as a former assassin.”

“I reject.” With that, Xiao leaped out the window and was gone in a gust of wind.

Knowing how persistent that man could be, Xiao took his time strolling around the outskirt of the city. It wasn’t until the sky became completely dark and the lanterns on the street lighting up that he returned to the parlour.

“Xiao Xiao!”

What greeted him when he stepped through the front door was the excited young master of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour—Hu Tao. The raven-haired girl ran up to him, eyes sparkling in a way that Xiao long learned to be wary of.

“Young master Hu,” he greeted politely with a bow.

“Where have you been, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She gasped, grabbing Xiao’s hand and dragging him into the lobby.

“Master,” Xiao dipped his head towards Zhongli when he spotted him standing there looking at him…apologetically?

Xiao immediately had a bad feeling, and that feeling came true when Hu Tao went on a ramble about how they received a huge sum of mora. The green-haired youth gritted his teeth and took a deep breath in an attempt to stay calm.

“Young master,” he stopped the girl who wasn’t getting anywhere other than mora. “These mora you mentioned…were they given by Tartaglia?”

“Yep!” Hu Tao answered proudly, not even the slightest bit ashamed in admitting that she had once again sold Xiao to the Fatui.

The corner of Xiao’s lips twitched, but he controlled himself as to not show any form of disrespect towards Hu Tao and Zhongli.

“May I ask what is requested of me?”

“Oh, that’s easy! You just have to attend a party as his lady partner!”

Xiao was going to kill Tartaglia.

✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Xiao sat in front of the mirror and stared at his own reflection. He fixed the Glazed Lily ornaments on the left side of his hair before picking up a piece of red Silk Flower paper and smeared the colour onto his lips.

He put on the pair of emerald earrings, slipping them through the earholes which he had not used for a long time. He then picked up the pair of black satin gloves on the table and slipped them on. The long gloves reached to his elbows, leaving his upper arms bare.

Xiao skillfully wrapped a piece of thin red string around his Vision before tying the string around his neck, creating a necklace. He tucked the necklace under his cloth with his vision hidden under the fake chest he made.

He buttoned up his top and closed the collar over his throat to conceal the budge on his throat that woman would not have. Once he was done, he stood up and headed for the door. His elaborate green and black qipao with Ameno pattern flowed down to his ankles and each time he took a step, the qipao would flutter, splitting at his hip showing off his long, milk-white legs.

“Eeeh? Why can’t I go in?” Xiao heard the familiar whine of Hu Tao from outside his door.

“Xiao said he can dress on his own, young master Hu,” the deep voice of Zhongli’s explained.

“But what is he needs help? And do you really think he would put it on? For all we know, he could have already shredded it and—”

Xiao opened the door. The raven-haired girl who was facing Zhongli spun around on her heels, mouth already open to say something, but her voice never came out. She stood there, her eyes as wide as her open mouth as she gawked at Xiao.

“Xiao Xiao?!”

Xiao heaved out a sigh and let the girl inspected him. He looked over to Zhongli and bowed respectfully. “Master.”

“You look beautiful, Xiao,” Zhongli complimented with Hu Tao hurriedly nodding in agreement before her eyes fell to the B-cup swell around the man’s chest.

If possible, her eyes widened even more and she reached out both hands to start groping them.

“T-they feel so real…!” She gasped in awe as she squeezed and kneaded the softness on Xiao’s chest. “Don’t tell me…Xiao Xiao you’re actually a—”

“It’s made with condensed slime,” Xiao deadpanned, not even wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. He took a step back and angled his body away so he could save his fake chest from her devilish hands.

“Ahem…young master Hu,” Zhongli coughed into his hand. “I believe Childe has been waiting long enough.”

“Huh? Oh! That’s right!” Hu Tao clapped her hands together. “That guy’s already waiting for you in the lobby and—oh, shoes! Let me get your shoes!”

The girl rushed off and came back with a pair of black heels with the same Ameno pattern that matched the qipao. Xiao slipped his feet into the shoes, finding it odd how well it fitted, just like this dress. At first, he thought these clothes were something Hu Tao prepared, but considering her personality, that now seemed highly unlikely.

Zhongli couldn’t have prepared these for him either, since if it was Zhongli, he would have bought all the clothes the store had to offer and piled them into Xiao’s room.

“Young master Hu, may I ask where you got these garments?”

“Oh, Childe gave them to me!” Hu Tao said happily and immediately veins started to stick out from beneath Xiao’s pale skin.

To the side, Zhongli lightly shook his head.  

With another bow to the two, Xiao headed for the lobby, his heels clicking as he went.

As he was descending the stairs, he spotted Tartaglia in the lobby, dressed in the same clothes as usual. Hearing the sounds of heels, Tartaglia looked up and froze. For a split second, the man was taken back, looking completely stunned, but he recovered the next moment with a weirdly serious look on his face.

That made Xiao’s step slowed just a little. He had expected the man to come up to him and tease him, but not eye him with such stoic expression. Xiao kept his face blank and finally arrived in front of the taller man.

He crossed his arms, waiting for the other to speak.

He waited for five long seconds and Tartaglia still didn’t say anything. Instead, the man turned to the attendant that was beside him.

“Bring the good.”

The attendant looked a bit dumbfounded at first, but when he realized what his master was asking for, he hesitated.

“But Master, that’s the gift for—”

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Azure blue eyes narrowed dangerously. In an instant, the attendant bowed down and hastily excused himself.

Xiao watched the man ran out and came back only seconds later with a beautiful ice blue box. From the unusual design on the box as well as the material, the green-haired youth knew it was a box crafted from Snezhnaya.

The attendant presented the box to Tartaglia who opened it up to reveal snow-white fur within.

“This is made by the pelts of the snow foxes that dwell within the mountain of Snezhnaya,” Tartaglia explained, pulling out the long white fur with great care. The pelt sparkled under the lighting and even looked as though it was emitting breathes of coldness from its origin.

Tartaglia ran his fingers over the pelt before he walked up to Xiao and wrapped the pelt around his shoulders and over his forearms. The rest of the pelt flowed down his side, the soft fur tickling his exposed hips and stopping just a couple inches below his knees.

Xiao was stunned by the man’s act. His previous anger was forgotten the moment the fur touched his skin. Never in his life had he ever felt something as soft as this. He looked down at the pelt hung around his arms, able to feel the strange coolness seeping into his skin despite how fur was known to do the opposite.

From how stiff the attendant was standing behind Tartaglia plus his previous behaviour, Xiao could tell that this pelt was meant to be for someone else.

“Master, then the gift…” the attendant began meekly.  

Tartaglia spared the man a sideways glance and waved him off. “Just replace it with something else in the treasury.”

Tartaglia looked over Xiao up and down as his hands reached for Xiao’s face. Xiao stood still, watching the man warily as those hands disappeared from his vision and he felt his earrings being removed. The brunet didn’t say anything. He took off the right earring first, then the left one.

After that, he tossed the two earrings to the attendant and reached up to remove his red earring hanging off his left earlobe. Xiao was quiet the entire time, even when the man leaned over him and slipped his earring through Xiao’s ear.

“Does it hurt?” Tartaglia suddenly asked.

“…No,” Xiao replied, feeling the weight of the new earring before looking up at Tartaglia. How odd of the man to question him such a thing considering how many times they left each other injured after a fight.

“Good!” Tartaglia wrapped his arm around Xiao’s elbow and pulled him outside where the carriage was waiting. “Then let us depart!”

The ride in the carriage was quiet.

Xiao was always one to enjoy the silence, yet silence with Tartaglia was never a normal thing. He glanced over to Tartaglia who was blatantly staring at him which made Xiao shift in self-consciousness.

“If you have something to say, just say it.” Xiao finally said after a long while.

“Hm…” Tartaglia hummed, eye drifting down Xiao’s form then shifting back up to meet the other's irritated gaze. “I thought you would at least try to punch me by now.”

“Because you made me dress as a woman?” Xiao huffed, turning his head away and stared out the window. “I am not unfamiliar with such disguises.”

“Past experience?”

“…Due to my build and face, I was required to dress as a woman many times to approach my targets.”

“I see…” Tartaglia’s voice was quiet and distant, yet there was no form of pity or sadness in that voice. It was the one reason why Xiao always found himself comfortable with talking to this man about his past.

That and the fact that even if he didn’t say anything, this man will dig it out anyway.

“What did they do?”

“Surely you don’t need me to answer that,” Xiao said dryly.

The Snezhnayan did not try to pry anymore, because he knew the answer. While it was obvious these people could never get far because Xiao wasn’t a real girl, some level of intimacies were still inevitable.

“You look gorgeous.”

Xiao glanced back at the man with narrowed eyes. The distrust in those golden orbs was as clear as day.

“I’m serious,” Tartaglia chuckled before his smile fell again. “More than I ever thought you’d be. I’m just disappointed. These clothes don’t fit you at all.”

“What do you mean?” Xiao bristled lightly at what he assumed was an insult.

“For one thing, they pale compared to your beauty,” Tartaglia lamented. He reached out and pinched his fingers around the tail of the fur. “Even the finest fur of Snezhnaya failed to match up to you.”

“Enough with your empty flattery.” Xiao shot the man a sharp glare. “How did you know my size for the dress and shoes?”

“How many times do you think we’ve fought?” The man laughed. “I’m a keen observer! I’ve memorized how your body moves in order to predict your next attack. Knowing your size is hardly anything special.”

Xiao didn’t believe that kind of explanation, but he didn’t bother trying to find out the real answer and instead got down to business. “I assume the one after your life will be attending the party?”

“Yeah, most likely.” Tartaglia nodded. “I have a few suspicions, but I can’t be certain yet. As an assassin, I like to hear your input.”

“You’ve hardly given me any information for me to have opinions.” Xiao crossed his arms and looked back out the windows. “But…I can think of some methods they may use. Halfway through the party, find an excuse to leave me alone and I will identify the perpetrator for you.”

“How dependable!” Tartaglia clapped. “But if you’re alone, you’ll need to talk. Can you take up that task?”

Xiao’s brow twitched, but he softly cleared his voice and spoke in a higher-pitched voice, “naturally.”

It was a beautiful sound with no signs of forced or strained as fake voices generally have. If Tartaglia hadn’t heard this voice coming out of the apathetic man before him, he would have believed the voice to be a real woman’s. He laughed, looking thrilled and extremely interested at how Xiao was able to change his voice like that, but the former assassin was done humouring him.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the dock where Xiao saw people dressed in fancy clothes being escorted onto a ship. So the party will be in the sea…

Xiao was now a hundred percent certain the assassins would come for Tartaglia after they return to land. With this, Xiao was now certain what kind of method they would use to take Tartaglia down, but decided to keep that to himself. Tartaglia hired him for protection, so he will fulfil it to the contract.

The door to the carriage opened. Tartaglia stepped out first before turning to Xiao and offered his hand. Xiao didn’t hesitate to reach for his hand. He placed his hand upon the larger one like a woman would and allowed himself to be guided out. Once standing side to side, he wrapped both of his hands around Tartaglia’s arm and pressed his body close to the man.

Tartaglia’s attendant was already waiting there. At the sight of his boss, he hurried over and presented the same fancy box that once contained the fox pelt. The Harbinger opened the box a little, taking a quick glimpse inside and snapped it shut.

“It will do,” he said, putting on his smile and led Xiao towards the boat.

At the appearance of the young handsome man with a beautiful female companion, eyes were automatically drawn towards them and whispers of the pair began to travel. Neither of the two at the center of this attention cared as they boarded the ship after Tartaglia showed the guards his invitation.

With the sun long set into the sea, the ship was lit with large lanterns, brightening the dock with waiters walking around carrying beverages. When Tartaglia made his appearance, these people swarmed towards him like bees to honey. As the Harbinger who oversaw all the Snezhnaya banks across the nations and establishes trades, Tartaglia has made quite a name for himself in the business world.

Every merchant in Liyue knew about him and was all too eager to establish a relationship with him. That and there was also the fact that the female companion he brought was simply breathtaking. Many men ogled Xiao, though none dared to look too long in fear of being discovered.

With Xiao latched onto Tartaglia’s side and Tartaglia taking control of any conversations that came their way, the green-haired youth didn’t need to participate in any of the interactions. While pretending to not care about everything around him, Xiao was cautiously eyeing their surroundings and checking on all the people that came up to talk to Tartaglia.

The boat has now set off into the sea and the host of the party was making a long speech on the stage.

Xiao was staring at a group of people talking not far from then when a glass of wine came into his vision.

“I don’t drink,” Xiao said quietly, keeping his voice low so no one would overhear.

“Try it, you’ll like it.”

Xiao frowned but knew this man would probably keep pestering him if he didn’t. He took the glass by the stem, swirling the fluid inside around to release the aroma. He took a small whiff before putting the glass against his lips and tilted his head back to take in the fluid.

There was a very unusual taste in the wine—one that was foreign to Xiao.

“I told you you’ll like it,” Tartaglia said with a knowing grin. “It’s Dandelion wine from Mondstadt.”

“…I prefer not to drink, especially during work.” Xiao handed the glass back to the man.

Tartaglia chuckled, bringing the glass to his lips—exactly over where Xiao’s mouth had touched—and took an elegant sip.

Once the speech was over, the guests started to go up one by one to hand their gifts to the host of the party. It was then that Xiao—having not paid any attention to the speech, realized that this was a birthday event.

“Come now,” Tartaglia wrapped his arms around his waist and guided Xiao up the stage where he had his attendant offer their present. “A small gift from Snezhnaya, for the beautiful Madame Zhang.”

The attendant opened the box to reveal a large green gemstone that Xiao had never seen before.

“Oh my!” The woman who Xiao assumed was Madame Zhang gasped at the sight of the gemstone. “Such beautiful emerald! This is the first time I’ve seen one in such quality!”

“We offer you only the best, for you are the star of tonight,” Tartaglia replied smoothly. 

“That is very thoughtful of you, master Childe,” Madame Zhang giggled while her servant took the box and set it aside with the other ones. “Though I believe that there is a lady that shines brighter than any stars or emeralds I’ve seen. What is your name, young miss?”

“I am Xiao, Madame Zhang.” Xiao dipped his head and spoke in his fake voice. “It is an honour of mine to be invited to your party.”

“You two sure make a lovely couple.” Madame Zhang hid her smile behind her paper fan. “Reminds me of when I was in my youth!”

“What are you talking about, Madame? You’re still in your youth.” Tartaglia commented, earning another round of giggles from the old Madame.

They left the stage soon after, making room for others to step up.

After all the guests had their turns presenting their gifts, the party resumed.

More people came to speak with Tartaglia and Tartaglia politely spoke back while making lighthearted jokes. When one man came up to the Harbinger and requested on speaking to him about business ideas and proposal for the bank, Xiao knew this was a chance.

Just as he thought, Tartaglia smoothly accepted the man’s request to talk privately.

After telling Xiao to wait here for him, he walked away with the man to discuss the matter somewhere more private and away from the rest of the people. He didn’t go too far on the deck, but far enough where the light of the lantern did not reach. Many people took notice of the two men’s distance, but the people that gathered here are high in social status. They all knew better than to walk in or interrupt a private conversation.

Xiao stood by the banquet table with his arms crossed and eyes closed, acting disinterested in everything that was happening around him—which was not so much of an act.

With Tartaglia gone from his side, men around began to openly stare at him. Many had the desire to approach him, but the cold aura Xiao was emitting created a barrier that only few dared to cross.

Those who managed to gather enough courage to speak to Xiao always ended up walking away seconds later, discouraged by the lack of conversation yet they dared not to bad mouth him due to him being Tartaglia’s companion.  

“Miss, I couldn’t help but notice you are alone,” another man said, walking up to Xiao as though he did not notice all the other men that were sent away. “If I may have the pleasure—”

Xiao just turned his head and tune the man out. After a long minute of not receiving any response and being ignored, the man walked away defeated like many others.

Just as Xiao was getting tired of these useless people trying to approach him, a glass of wine came into his vision. It was a familiar sight, except the glass of wine was held by an unfamiliar hand.

Xiao stared at the wine for a long moment before his bright Aureolin eyes shifted to meet the man standing in front of him. He was dressed in foreign attire, but Xiao had little knowledge of anything outside of Liyue so he didn’t know which nation those clothes were from.

“Pardon me, my lady.” The man bowed, taking off his hat and placing it over his chest. “I couldn’t help but noticed you seem to enjoy Dandelion wine.”

Xiao’s eyes dropped back to the wine held towards him. He reached out and took the glass, their gloved hands brushing as he did so. This was not the first time a man came up to him with drinks. Some of the men that Xiao brushed off earlier had as well, though all of them offered him women’s cocktails instead of actual wine.

He swirled the cup around under his nose and took a whiff of the aroma. There was a very light and bitter scent coming from the wine that Xiao was quite familiar with. His lashes fluttered lightly, yet his face betrayed nothing.

“I don’t dislike it,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet the man’s. “How did you know I enjoy this wine?”

“You were so beautiful I could not help but stare,” the man admitted bashfully.

Xiao softened his gaze and for the first time that night, he smiled. It was a fake smile that didn’t reach his eye, yet that was enough to cause those who saw his smile blush—including the man in front of him.

Xiao pressed the rim of the cold glass against his lips. Just as he was about to drink the content inside, a gloved hand came in and took his glass away. The former assassin was immediately alarmed, but he couldn’t show it with so many eyes on him. He just pretended to look annoyed and turned to glare at Tartaglia who appeared behind him with an arm around Xiao’s waist.

“My apologies, my partner here isn’t good with alcohol, so allow me.”

Xiao placed a hand over Tartaglia’s chest and pressed his body into his side. In the eyes of other people, it was a very seductive and affectionate move, but in reality, Xiao was pressing his palm hard into Tartaglia’s chest.

The Fatui’s smile didn’t even falter as he drank the entire glass in one smooth motion.

He didn’t even leave a drop behind.

“Master Childe can certainly hold his alcohol!” The man complimented, raising his glass and also downing the wine inside. 

The two happily chatted for a short while before the man walked away.

Xiao on the other hand already couldn’t be bothered with that man anymore. He tightened his grip over Tartaglia, only to feel a hand overlapping his in a reassuring gesture. Tartaglia didn’t say anything and continued greeting other people.

As time slowly passed, Xiao began to see sweats forming over the man’s forehead. Tartaglia’s face was becoming even more flushed and the grip around Xiao’s waist tightened. Eventually, some of the guests noticed Tartaglia not looking well and asked if he was alright, but Tartaglia just laughed and brushed it off as being a little drunk.

Tartaglia managed to keep up his appearance to the very end as the ship returned to the dock.

The moment they got back into their carriage and closed the curtain on the windows, he collapsed into the seat.

“You fool!” Xiao hissed, face distorted with rage. “You should have let me drink that, my body is capable of withstanding poison!”

“They wouldn’t use poison. They’re not so stupid to kill me with so many witnesses,” Tartaglia laughed as though this was something he could joke about. “Though…ngh…this is some potent stuff.”

“Which was why you should have let me drink it,” Xiao retorted and looked down to see the noticeable bulge in the man’s pants. It was impressive of the man to hold his hard-on back for so long. “Shall I drop you off at a brothel?”

“You’d abandon me?” Tartaglia groaned, cracking open one eye to look up at him. “How cruel...”

“I’m trying to help you.” Xiao clicked his teeth, not sure why this man was being so difficult. “If you had let me drink it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Your body might be able to stand poison, but not aphrodisiacs, am I right?”

Xiao paused a bit before he let out a small huff. “I would have been fine. I’ve endured through it plenty of times.”

Now, both of those blue eyes were open and staring at Xiao. Xiao knew the man wanted to hear more. If this was normal circumstances, he would have ignored him, but…

“Events that required me to dress as a woman were always messy. Uses of drugs were not unusual. We were all trained to fight while enduring the effects of strong aphrodisiacs to see if we would succumb to pleasure.”

Xiao paused when Tartaglia let out a quiet, barely suppressed groan.

“You’re going to a brothel.”

“What if the assassins are waiting there to finish me off?”

Xiao pressed his lips together, unable to deny such a possibility as he had done something similar in the past. Finally, he let out a deep sigh before he ordered the carriage to bring them to a secluded alleyway where there won’t be any civilians or Millelith passing by.

Xiao took in a deep breath and glanced down at the person lying on the seat. “If you ever speak of what I am about to do, I will peel your fingernails off and shove them down your stomach along with your tongue, am I clear?”

“Hmm…then let’s do a pinkie promise," Tartaglia suggested, not the slightest bit fazed by the threat.

“…A what?” Xiao blinked at the man, wondering if the drug was getting to his brain.

“Pinkie promise.” Tartaglia raised a pinkie at him. “I do it with my siblings all the time. Come on, hook your pinkie around mine.”

Xiao was skeptical but did as he was told and resisted the urge to pull his hand away when the man hooked his pinkie around his.

“You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life.” He began, lightly swaying their hands back and forth. His voice was quiet and calm, but Xiao could hear a strange tenderness within it. “You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.”

Xiao stared at their linked fingers until Tartaglia finished the strange vow and pulled away.

“Is that a custom of your home?”

“You could say that,” Tartaglia smiled wearily before gritting his teeth to swallow back another noise threatening to come out.

With the man giving him such a vow, Xiao felt a little more at ease and undid the collar of his qipao to free the restrain around his neck.

Once the carriage arrived at its destination, the coachmen scurried away with his face flushed in embarrassment. The carriage was rocking lightly despite not moving anymore. Inside the carriage, moans and huffs of two people echoed softly, accompanied by the sound of rustling clothes.

Dark figures crept along the shadows and surrounded the carriage. With the curtains on both sides of the carriage down, the inside couldn’t see what was happening outside.

“Haah!” A woman’s voice cried, followed by an indecent wet sound. “Ahn!”

The men edged closer and closer to the carriage. The moment they were within range, the ground beneath their feet shook with green spears made from condensed Ameno power shot out from the ground below them.

The spears pierced through their flesh and shattered their bones. In a blink of an eye, half of the assassins were slaughtered on the spot. Those who evaded the attack instantly realized they had fallen into a trap. They pulled out their weapons and aimed for the carriage, but all they saw was a flicker of green light before their heads flew off into the air by a strong current of wind. Flying up along with the detached heads was the top of the carriage that was sliced clean from the body.

The blast of wind swirling around the carriage vanished, revealing Xiao who stood with one foot on the seat of the carriage and his Jade Winged-Spear glowing eerily within the darkness.

On the floor of the carriage behind him…was Tartaglia.

The Harbinger was shaking all over and curled up like a shrimp in boiling water. He was red in the face, but Xiao knew it wasn’t due to the man being under the influence of the drug…but that he was trying to hold his laughter in.

The former assassin felt his veins throbbed and clutched onto his spear even tighter. Thanked to the man’s reaction, his cheeks were slightly red from embarrassment—which he had never felt until now. He briefly pondered the possibility of silencing this man and dumping him amongst these corpses but knew that even if he was drugged, Tartaglia could still put up a fight.

“Since you now know who the mastermind is, my job is done.” Xiao was about to leap out of the carriage and go home when his hand was grabbed.

“W-wait, wait—pfft…ahahahaha!” Tartaglia was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down his eyes. “That was the best! Hahaha! I didn’t know you could put on a show like that all by yourself! And those sound effects were—”

“Enough!” Xiao stabbed his spear into the carriage floor, missing the man's head by half an inch “Another word and I will make sure you won’t have a mouth to laugh with!”

“D-don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Tartaglia let out another good laugh before finally sobering up.

He snapped his fingers and a man dressed in black and red cloak appeared. With just a simple glance, Xiao knew this man was also an assassin, one that worked for Tartaglia.

“I’ll leave you to deal with the bodies,” Tartaglia ordered before he stepped out of the carriage and pulled Xiao into the dark alley.

“Let go,” Xiao said after a while of being pulled around. He finally had enough and jerked his hand out of the other’s grip. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the droplet of sweats rolling down the brunet’s face. “If you have subordinates around, you should let them take care of you.”

Tartaglia turned and gave Xiao a small, tired smile. “Tell me, Xiao. When was the last time you were able to sleep peacefully, knowing that the world around you is safe?”

Xiao stiffened at that. He looked up at Tartaglia who was looking down at him seriously. Xiao understood the meaning behind the man’s word. Despite those being his subordinates, Tartaglia didn’t trust any of them. At least, not enough to allow them to witness or be near him during his moment of weakness.

Xiao let out a quiet sigh. “What do you want?”

“Let me crash at your place for a bit.”

“And you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Xiao was taken back. He didn’t expect Tartaglia to answer that without even giving a second of thought.  

“You think I won’t stab you in the back?”

“I think if you were to stab me, you’ll do it when I’m awake so I would know who stabbed me,” Tartaglia pointed out.

Xiao couldn’t argue with that. Despite his many dislike of this man, he also couldn’t leave him here like this when he was so vulnerable. In the end, Xiao reluctantly brought him back to his room. He used his Ameno power to carry them there while avoiding the eyes of the people in the streets. He didn’t inform anyone within the parlour and slipped inside through his room’s open window.

Xiao laid Tartaglia onto his bed before locking the windows and door.

Tartaglia’s condition was worsening by the seconds. Large beads of sweat were coming down his face and soaking through his clothes. His face was red and his breathing was harsh. He was even grunting in pain due to the tightness of his clothes—pants especially.

A normal man would have lost it long ago. They would have long thrown away their clothes and rubbed on anything that could provide them with relief, but Tartaglia didn’t do that. As someone who had periodically undergone those pain, Xiao could sympathize with what Tartaglia was going through.

He thought back to those long and cold memories, the burning pain of needs and wants…but most of all, it was the fear and loneliness that broke him. The fear and horror was something he remembered clearly even to this day.

Xiao lowered his eyes and sat down on the edge of his bed. He leaned over Tartaglia and reached a hand towards the brunet’s pants when a larger hand seized him by the wrist in an iron grip. In an instant, Xiao was thrown onto the soft mattress of his bed with Tartaglia hovering over him, pinning both of his hands over his head.

“What were you trying to do?” Tartaglia demanded, his blue eyes darkened and lips pulled into a thin line. At this moment, he was every bit as expressionless as Xiao. Beads of sweat dripped from the tip of his nose and splashed onto the youth’s pale’s cheek.

“You’ll feel better once you get enough relief,” Xiao stated the obvious.

Tartaglia’s expression turned even colder and Xiao felt the hands on his wrists tightened. “So you thought to offer yourself to me? How selfless of you.”

“It’s nothing I have not done before.”

That made Tartaglia stilled and the coldness in those eyes gradually melted away. He leaned down until their noses were an inch apart.

“Had you done a lot of such things?”

“Only with my mouth and hands,” Xiao replied in a tone as though they were talking about the weather, not his sexual experiences. “I have no knowledge other than that.”

“…I see.”

Xiao let out a quiet gasp when the man lowered his entire body onto him, pushing him into the mattress.

“What are you doing?” He inquired, looking down to see the Fatui rubbing his cheek against his fake chest with his arms wrapped tightly around his back.

“Hm…these things are in the way. What are they anyway?” Tartaglia complained, unwrapping one arm to poke at the jiggly object. Xiao slapped the man’s hand away. He undid the top of his qipao, reaching inside to pull out the slime essence paddings and tossed them across the room. He also pulled out his Vision that was hidden there and set it onto the nightstand.

Tartaglia hummed happily and rubbed his face against his now flattened chest. “Much better.”

“What are you doing?” Xiao asked again. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought the man was going to…

“I’m going to sleep this off, what does it look like?” Tartaglia mumbled tiredly. “But of course, if you offer to spar with me, it might let me work off this drug’s effect even faster!”

“Exercising will do nothing but make your condition worsen,” Xiao stated dryly. He stared at the man on top of him. In this short moment, he could already feel the man’s sweat soaking onto his skin and clothes.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable lying down like this, Xiao used his elbows to push himself up. The brunet was latched onto him like some sort of boneless animal, refusing to even budge. At this, Xiao created a gust of wind that swirled around his room. His pillow and blankets that were neatly folded on the corner of his bed were picked up by the wind and placed against his back to prop him up.

Xiao then looked across his room to see there was a pot of tea sitting in the middle of the table. He used the wind to bring the teapot into his waiting hands.

“Open your mouth.”

Tartaglia opened his eye to look at the teapot and did as he was told. Xiao carefully poured the cold tea into the man’s open mouth little by little. It was a good thing that the tea Xiao usually drink was made with Qingxin flower that replenishes the body’s moisture.

Once the man drank every last drop of the tea, Xiao let the wind pick up the teapot once more and placed it back onto the table.

“You’re asking for needless pain.”

“If suffering through this means I get the infamous Yaksha to take care of me, I think I'm getting a pretty good return.”

Xiao frowned but didn’t say anything as he stared down at the man.

“Xiao…” Tartaglia muttered against him. “Did you know that when you accepted that glass of wine, you had a particular look on your face?”

“…Look?” Xiao frowned. Had he made any expression when he noticed the wine was spiked? No, he shouldn’t have. He always had a good grasp over his expressions.

“Your eyes became hollowed, like a child who can no longer cry.”

Xiao’s eyes flew wide and flinched upon the feeling of something touching his cheek. When he looked down, he realized that was Tartaglia's hand which was raised halfway in midair. There was a small smile on the man's lips as his hand moved again.

This time, Xiao didn’t flinch away and allowed the hand to cup his cheek. Through the thin layer of the man’s glove, Xiao could feel his unnaturally high body heat.

“So you pity me?” Xiao questioned, yellow eyes carefully searching the blue ones for any signs of lies.

“Of course not,” Tartaglia chuckled, brows furrowed with pain from the effect of the drugs. “You’re strong. You’re the last person I would ever pity, Xiao.”

Then why…?

Xiao opened his mouth, but instead of asking the question on his mind, he asked something else.

“When was the last time you were able to sleep peacefully, knowing that the world around you is safe?” It was the very same question Tartaglia had asked him in the alley, and now Xiao threw it back at him.

“When I was fourteen,” Tartaglia replied.

Xiao stared into those eyes that held so much darkness and secrets, yet he was unable to hate it because his own eyes were the same.

Xiao lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment before he wrapped his arms and clasped his pale legs around his hips. Tartaglia froze, obviously not expecting the former assassin to suddenly embrace him like this.

He tightened his right arm around Tartaglia’s shoulder while his other hand was behind Tartaglia’s head, pushing him into his chest with Xiao dipping his head down until his soft cheek was pressed against the brunet’s forehead.

It was a very protective embrace rather than intimacy. It was as though Xiao was trying to wrap himself around the man so no outside danger could ever reach him. For someone in a vulnerable state like Tartaglia, it was a very comforting gesture.

The Harbinger felt like he was going to melt within this warmth…

“I will watch over you, I won’t let any harm befall upon you, so sleep for that I will be here to protect you.” Xiao softly spoke out his promises with his warm breath tickling Tartaglia’s face. “May you fall into a dreamless slumber, yet should you dream of nightmares, call my name.”

Xiao tightened the hold onto the man, using his action to prove that he wasn’t going to go anywhere. He didn’t know what expression Tartaglia was making, nor did he look. He raked his fingers through the ochre brown lock and waited.

None of them spoke again that night. The only thing that could be heard within the silence was the man’s laboured breathing. Xiao understood all of his pain, yet this was the only thing he was able to offer, but Xiao knew this small gesture was what Tartaglia needed. Because this was what Xiao always wanted when he still lived within that nightmare.

All he wanted was simply for someone to hold him…that was all he wanted.

So now, he will give that to Tartaglia.

At some point in the night, Xiao found himself beginning to hum a soft tune. Because of Xiao’s limited use within the parlour, most of his tasks were to go around gathering the items for the funeral. Wild Glazed Lily would be one of the traditional items needed. Due to the…unique requirement when picking these lilies, Zhongli taught Xiao a song to sing before picking them. It was the only song Xiao knew. Of course, Hu Tao taught him some songs too, but they were songs Xiao swore to never sing and threw them into the back of his mind to be forever sealed away.

Xiao hummed this song to the Snezhnayan while occasionally conjuring some wind to provide him with a bit of comfort. He didn’t know how long he had been humming that same tune for, but it must have been a long time, for that the sunlight was shining through the rice paper covering his window, brightening the room.

The body in his arms had gone completely quiet sometime in the night. The only sound Xiao could hear from the man was his soft breathing. He never let go of the body in his arms. He kept a secure hold onto the man, his face still pressed against the Fatui’s forehead.

The brunet’s hair was now stuck together in clumps from his dried-up sweat. Some of that brown hair was sticking onto Xiao’s skin, but Xiao didn’t mind the itchiness on his skin or the stench. He had smelled way worse than sweat back in his days in the Abyss Order.

Xiao looked down at the man’s closed eyelids and the way his lips were neither curving upward or down. He threaded his fingers through the messy brown hair and wondered which side of this man was real.

The one who was always smiling and making jokes, or the one that was every bit as expressionless as Xiao?

Xiao only thought over that question for a brief second before deciding that it didn’t matter at all. Whichever side was this man’s real side, they were equally as annoying.

He continued to hold the man as the sun rose to the highest point in the sky before dropping back down.

Throughout the day, Xiao would sense people coming towards his room, trying to see if he was there but a small gust of wind would always send these people away. No one thought it was weird, for that Xiao had always been like this when he didn’t want to see anyone. The only one who would barge into his room other than the man in his arms would be Hu Tao, but the lack of the young master's voice told him that she most likely went out somewhere to play and wouldn't be back any time soon.

Xiao didn’t drink.

He didn’t eat or sleep either.

He kept holding the man until night came once more and the rowdiness from the street quiet down.

It was late into the night when the city was asleep did Tartaglia finally stirred.

Cobalt yellow eyes shifted down to the man in his arms. Xiao brought a hand to the man’s face, brushing aside those brown bangs and was greeted by the sight of those azure blue eyes.

“Hey there…” Tartaglia grinned, voice raspy from his long sleep. He turned around in Xiao’s arms and reached up a hand to touch Xiao’s cheek. “Were you with me this entire time?”

“I do not go back on my words,” Xiao replied.

“Yeah…” Tartaglia whispered and soon noticed something was off. He brought his hand down and took a sniff of his sleeve before breaking out into laughter. “I can’t believe you were able to hold me like this when I smell so bad!”

“If you realized, then get off.”

Tartaglia finally sat up. He stretched his arms over his head until he got some satisfying pops from his joints. “Aah, I haven’t had a sleep like that in ages.”

He hopped off the bed, taking Xiao’s hand and pulling him along.

“Come on!”

“What are you doing?” Xiao frowned, but still followed him.

“Bath. I think you and I both need one. And I’m sure you’d want to change out of those clothes?” He said, making a show of looking over Xiao who was still dressed like a woman.

Xiao huffed but was unable to argue with that. The two of them went into the parlour’s bath that night. Since it was in the middle of the night, everyone was asleep so both baths they had were unoccupied.

Tartaglia insisted on sharing one bath, but Xiao ignored him and went into his own before locking the door shut. Once he rid himself of the Snezhnayan’s scent and dressed into his usual clothes, Xiao walked out to see Tartaglia already standing there waiting for him.

“Where did get those clothes?”

“The guest rooms.” Tartaglia smiled cockily. “Since I crash here so often, I left some of my clothes behind.” He replied as though leaving his clothes in other people’s homes was the most natural thing to do.

Xiao made a mental note to speak with the young master the next time he sees her. He tossed the red earring back to the man and walked past him. "Since your business is done and the culprit identified, leave. I will inform young master Hu that my duty is over.”

“Always so eager to leave,” Tartaglia said with a light smile. “You’ve stayed with me all this time so you didn’t eat or drink anything, right? At least let me treat you to a meal.”

Xiao paused and it was then he became aware of how empty his stomach felt.

Reluctantly, he agreed and followed the beaming man out the parlour. They arrived at the Liuli Pavilion where Tartaglia booked a private room for them and ordered an entire table of food. Xiao was dumbfounded by all these food considering there were only the two of them, but since it wasn’t his mora they were spending he had no complaints. During the entire meal, Xiao ate quietly with Tartaglia chattering next to him and introducing him to the dishes he picked. Though Xiao didn’t want to admit it, Tartaglia had good tastes in his choice of menu. If there was any fault Xiao was to comment on, it would be the fork in the Snezhnayan's hand.

After eating a hearty meal with Tartaglia paying out of his wallet, they were back on the street, heading towards the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. The entire journey, neither of them spoke. They just enjoyed the silence and each other’s presence.

When they arrived at the main door of the parlour, Xiao was about to go inside when Tartaglia said something unexpected.

“I will be returning to Snezhnaya very soon.”

Xiao turned to the man who was gazing back at him as though he was expecting him to say…something.

The green-haired youth opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what he could say to that. He had almost forgotten that this man was a diplomat, that his stay in Liyue was temporary. The fact that he had stayed for a whole year was already surprising enough.

Liyue would never be home to someone like him.

His place will always be in Snezhnaya.

“I see…” Xiao’s gaze unconsciously shifted away from the man. “I wish you a pleasant journey.”

Tartaglia laughed weakly at the expected response. “So cold…and here I thought we have something special.”

Xiao stiffened at that last part. Before he could figure out what Tartaglia meant by special, the man took his hand into his and pulled him inside. As a frequent guest at the parlour, he knew his way around the building—especially Xiao’s room which he frequently intruded upon.

Once they were back in the room, Tartaglia sat down on Xiao’s bed and pulled the smaller man into his arms. Xiao hastily put out his hands onto the mattress to stop himself from falling against Tartaglia, yet he couldn’t pull away with the man’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“You—”

“I’m just returning a favour.” Tartaglia’s fingers brushed over the tender skin beneath the mesmerizing golden eye. “You should get some sleep. It’d be a pity if such beautiful skin gets ruined.”

There was hesitance in Xiao’s eyes, but the warmth being emitted from the brunet’s body and the weight of the arm over his back was extremely tempting. A longing Xiao hadn’t felt for a long time burned him from the inside and he found that he was too exhausted to fight against it.

Xiao knew he wasn’t thinking straight, but he couldn’t help but cave in. He hesitantly lowered himself against the man, like a cat testing the water.

Tartaglia waited for him patiently, watching him with a gentle look on his face. It was only when most of Xiao’s weight was put against him that he moved. He wrapped Xiao up in his arms and pulled the blanket over them. He leaned his back against the wall next to the windowsill and held onto the smaller body protectively.

Xiao closed his eyes and let out a small breath at the warmth and comfort surrounding him. Pressed up against the man’s chest, he could hear and feel the heart that was beating beneath the other’s ribcage was strangely calming.

“Xiao.”

Xiao didn’t respond, but Tartaglia knew he was listening.

“Come with me to Snezhnaya.”

Aureolin eyes snapped open in surprise. The body in Tartaglia’s arms shifted, but the man held the other tighter and continued.

“The Wangsheng Funeral Parlour gave you a home, but you and I both know this isn’t where you belong. Blades are meant to be sharpened and used on the battlefield, not to be locked away in the shed to rust, don’t you agree?”

Xiao dropped his gaze. He knew that for a long time, but he was saved by Zhongli who gave him a place here. Both Zhongli and Hu Tao were important people to him and leaving them would feel like he was betraying them.

“I…cannot answer you at this time.”

“But you’ll think about it?”

Xiao hesitated before answering with a small nod.

“Good.” Tartaglia smiled and buried his face into the silky green hair. He rubbed his hand up and down the curve of Xiao’s back while his other hand gently rubbed his nape.

“Rest, Xiao. In the name of her majesty, the Tsaritsa, I promise I will always protect you.”

Xiao felt something inside him trembled at such promise. He knew Tartaglia well enough to know that this man always kept his promises no matter how ridiculous that promise may be. But even so, this was the first time he heard the man use his Queen’s name when making a promise. Moreover, Xiao keenly caught how Tartaglia said always protect, and not just for tonight.

Xiao parted his lips but quickly close them again. He knew there was nothing he could say at this moment—not when he didn’t know what his own feelings were. He wasn’t so cruel as to give the man a half-hearted answer.

So Xiao closed his eyes and tried to will himself to sleep.

Xiao didn’t actually think he would fall asleep, given the heavy promise Tartaglia gave him, but he did. He fell asleep listening to Tartaglia’s voice that was softly singing a lullaby to him.

For the first time since he could remember, Xiao fell asleep feeling warm and safe.

When Xiao woke up, he was still bathed in the warmth of another living being. Even though his mind was still muddled by the sleep, every part of his instincts was screaming to him that something was wrong.

The first thing Xiao noticed was the weird rocking feeling and the second thing was the smell.

Being in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, there was always the smell of incense and because Xiao’s room was always so dull and empty, Hu Tao took it upon herself to always fill his room up with flowers. Right now, there was no scent of flowers or incense anywhere, only the smell of old wood and the saltiness of the sea.

In a split second, Xiao was up, eyes snapping open with the thick quill slipping off his body from the movement, causing his exposed arms to come into contact with the chilly air.

“Careful now,” the Harbinger’s voice came from the darkness before the Xiao was pulled back against the body with the blanket wrapped around his back once more.

“Tartaglia? What is this?” Xiao demanded, looking around the unfamiliar that was most definitely not his. It was a luxurious room, but the style of the room and furniture was not the style of Liyue.

There were no windows in the room, but the constant rocking motion gave Xiao an idea as to where he was. He leaped out of the man’s arms and in a flash of green light, he was across the room, tearing the door open and running out. He sped down the narrow hallway and up the staircase.

In a matter of seconds, Xiao was standing outside on the deck with the bright afternoon sun beaming down at him. He winced at the brightness and had to bring a hand up to shield his eyes from the unusually strong sunlight.

The cold assaulted his body, but Xiao could barely feel it when he saw all these people walking around him, moving the cargo of the ship. These people were all dressed in Snezhnaya clothes with some members of the Fatui as well.

Xiao’s breath came out of his open lips in a visible puff of white. His eyes scanned over the sea before stopping at the land in the far distant—covered by a sheet of white.

“Underestimate the cold and you’ll die in Snezhnaya,” Tartaglia said, coming up from behind Xiao to wrap a thick layer of white fur coat around the fragile-looking youth. Unfortunately for him, his gesture wasn’t welcome when Xiao whirled around and seized him by his collar, pulling him down until they were eye to eye.

“What is the meaning of this?” Xiao snarled, his eyes nearly dilated in his rage.

“Well, you’ll have to ask your young master Hu about that.”

“Young master Hu?” Xiao was taken back, not expecting such an answer.

Tartaglia held out a letter to him with Xiao’s name written at the top. Xiao snatched the letter from his hand and unfold it to see Hu Tao’s familiar handwriting.

He read through the long letter which basically came down to one thing.

Hu Tao had sold Xiao to Tartaglia for ten billion mora.

To be precise, Hu Tao has sent Xiao to Snezhnaya to work with their business partner as a diplomat at the contract agreement of ten billion mora.

Xiao ripped apart the letter. As though that wasn’t enough, he even used his Ameno power to shred papers until it was nothing but dust that was blown away by the ocean wind.

Where in Teyvat had anyone heard of a funeral parlour needing diplomats?!

“You!” Xiao glared at the man who had the audacity to look amused. “I did not agree to come with you to Snezhnaya!”

“Didn’t you say you’ll think about it?”

“That did not mean I agreed!”

“But if I don’t bring you here, how will you think about it?” Tartaglia laughed before he pulled Xiao into a tight embrace. The green-haired youth was mulling over whether or not to toss this man overboard when he heard the following words. “You’re not a prisoner, Xiao. You’re free to leave any time.”

Xiao frowned, trying to figure out if this was another trick.

“The contract I made with Hu Tao only says for you to help me out. As for when this help ends, that is up to you. If you want, you can end it right now and return to Liyue. The money has already been paid in full and by the rules of the contract, I won’t be able to ask the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour to give it back.” Tartaglia slowly released him and took a small step back.

Xiao stared at the man, his anger of being lied to had already faded into nothingness. Despite having pulled him here without asking him, the man was now presenting him a choice to leave.

“What’s your purpose of bringing me to your nation?”

“…I guess I just really wanted to show you my family,” Tartaglia laughed. “They’re the most precious people to me, so I wanted you to meet them.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to spell it out?” Tartaglia tilted his head and smiled at Xiao.

Xiao shook his head and looked back to the land of white the ship was heading towards.

“…Three months,” he finally said after a long time.

Xiao suddenly realized that when it came to this man, he was surprisingly lenient. Had it been anyone else that had kidnapped him into another nation, he would have killed that person already. “You have three months to convince me to stay. Otherwise, I will go back to Liyue.”

“That’s more than enough.” Tartaglia smiled before he held up his hand. Xiao watched as his fingers curled up, leaving only his pinkie behind.

“There is no need for a promise,” Xiao stated.

“Give me your finger.” Tartaglia waved his hand to urge Xiao to do the same.

The green-haired youth slowly held out his hand, raising his pinkie and hooked it around the man’s. Xiao only felt the pinkie around his tightening before Tartaglia pulled him into his arms through their linked fingers.

“I promise that I won’t make you regret this choice you made today, Xiao.”  

[pentechnics]

Part 1 of A Strange Duet

Assassin!Din x Princess!Reader

Rating: M

Summary: You are a princess, next in line for Sorgan’s throne, and an assassin is sent to kill you. Not just any assassin, though: a Mandalorian. The best of the best. They never miss a mark.

Especially not Din Djarin.

The job? Do away with you before your coronation takes place. Child’s play to someone of his experience. He masquerades as a worker in the castle to try and get to you.

But then the most unexpected development occurs. One that threatens his mission, his nation, and his life.

The one thing that an assassin is never meant to do.

He starts to fall in love with his target.

Series Content: medieval-ish AU, assassin!Din, princess!reader, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, falling in love, angst, mentions of injuries/scars, depictions of violence, usage of weapons, Din's POV and reader's POV, side character death (of OCs; no SW characters will die)

Notes: I don't think I've ever been so impatient with myself. I have been DYING to post this; I had the idea a while back and actually sat down to write it recently, and my GOODNESS. All the usual things that happen with a new fic happened all at once and I had no idea what to do with myself: the onslaught of ideas, thinking through the order of events/plot shit, playlist creation, skipping ahead to write the scenes I couldn't stop thinking about -- it was so much at once!

With that in mind, this is going to differ from my other multi-chapter fics. It's gonna be less structured. So I'm sorry if it ends up being a bit messy/chapters end up being shorter because of that lol but I hope you'll read along and enjoy anyway! And as always this chapter's kinda all over because I wanted to get all the setup out of the way here so we can just jump in going forward! Please let me know if you have questions!

Let me know what you think/if you'd like to be tagged for future parts! Thank you all so much! ❤️

Chapter content: stabbing

Part 2

~~~~

“She presents many challenges, Your Majesty. This must be taken care of before it causes the very downfall of Mandalore itself.”

The war room was dark, save for a single light above the large, oval table, its glow bouncing off the various figures surrounding it, each of them covered in armor from head to toe. The Queen’s best generals and admirals lined the seats leading to where she sat at the head.

“General Kryze,” she began, “I have no doubt that your intel is legitimate. What I need are answers. Solutions.”

Her tone was smooth and even, but urgent. The light bounced against her golden helmet as she moved her head. General Kryze turned to the war room’s door.

There stood two guardsmen to whom she nodded. One of them returned the gesture and left the room.

“Your Majesty, I present a plan that is sure to rid us of these concerns.”

A moment later the doors opened once more, the guardsman joined by another Mandalorian, fully clad in silver steel. Its brilliant sheen was blinding, almost an entire light source on its own.

The Queen sat up in her chair.

“Are you suggesting what I think, General?”

Kryze nodded.

“You did train him yourself, Your Majesty.”

The Queen looked back at the silver Mandalorian with a nod of her head.

“Have a seat, Din Djarin.”

~~~~

You sighed as you took a seat next to your mother, the Queen of Sorgan, after another long day.

Evening tea with her was your favorite time of day; it symbolized the end of social interaction and formalities, lengthy lectures from the Queen’s council, and other such preparations for the succession. You were no doubt ready to be Queen, more than happy to step up to the plate, but the work it took to get there was thorough and exhaustive.

Especially since the latest attempts on your life.

There had been several since you made your plans for the nation public. You had support from the majority of Sorgan’s citizens, yet many still were turned off by your ideas. Your approaches included increased rights for lower-class citizens, more equal wealth distribution, and more peaceful relations with other nations. Rich landlords were much too happy with how their lives currently proceeded, and you posed a threat to their privilege. And other nations feared an uprising among their own citizens to demand similar treatment.

“You would hope people were more considerate of each other,” you said as you stirred a couple sugar cubes into the amber liquid. Your mother sighed.

“Yes, my dear. While we have more courteous subjects than most, not everyone is open to such drastic change.”

The two of you carried on, discussing what the first steps of your new implementations might look like. But your mind wandered away from the topic.

“Ma,” you started, “you raised me to do this, and I’m honored and willing, but it upsets me to think of your reign ending.”

You looked into her eyes, a weight settling itself on your heart. Your mother was in perfect health, not an ounce of frailness to her regal figure. But even then she decided to pass the throne onto you early in order to help you through your first years, rather than waiting until she could no longer provide her support.

She had always seemed so untouchable, so invincible to you. She was the only Queen you’d known, and the people of Sorgan loved her. You had been ignoring every warning siren of changing times, each one falling on deaf senses until now. She put her warm hand over yours on the table.

“Sweetheart, don't you worry. It’s nothing more than a title change. I’ll still be here to help you. And I will always be on your side.”

“Just as you’ve always been,” you said with a smile.

“What concerns me is all these attacks,” she said, her tone becoming more serious. You nodded.

“There have already been three in the last two weeks! Even Sir Fett doesn’t know what to make of it.”

“It’s okay, Ma,” you said while squeezing her hand. “We expected this type of backlash from other nations.”

“Still,” she stared deep into your eyes. “It’s only a matter of time before Mandalore itself sends someone. We’ll need to be extra vigilant.”

You stayed silent. She had a point.

As of yet no one had sent a Mandalorian to try killing you. They were expensive, and in high demand all over the world. But with the growing animosity between yourself and some other world leaders, including the Queen of Mandalore, you would not be surprised if one of them worked up the nerve.

“You’re not still sneaking off at night, are you? It’s much too dangerous now.”

You hated lying to her. But you also hated that you had to sneak out in order to feel like a regular person. You never went far, just to an archery range set up for training in the nearby forest. And you never went alone: a trusted group, hand-picked by you, never left your side. And your personal guard, Dame Fennec Shand, was among them. Your mother and this group were the only ones that knew about your little habit.

Your mother had been on board when you began doing it as a teen, seeing as it was the only thing keeping you sane under your father’s domestic tyranny. But that was some time ago now. Since then the excursions slowly morphed into a reprieve from everyday stressors.

“Don’t worry, Ma. I am perfectly safe and well-protected. I don’t leave unless it’s necessary.”

Not a complete lie. Sometimes feeling free was necessary. She sighed, the worry lines on her forehead disappearing.

“It’s not even about the crown, dear, I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

“You won’t,” you said quickly. “I promise Ma, I’m going to be just fine. No one’s taking me down without a fight.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad we sent for more staff,” she said, “it’ll be nice to have some more friendly faces around.”

You nodded. Along with more guards, the Queen had recently hired more stable hands, artisans, and other essential staff that would help ensure the palace’s entourage was fully equipped for any major attacks. The idea was exciting given that your normal visits to the citizens of Sorgan were cut down in the name of your safety. You hadn’t spoken to anyone outside the palace in months.

Yet at the same time, the idea that this type of fortification was necessary to protect you and your mother was terrifying.

Your mother must’ve seen the shift in your energy. She cupped your cheek in her hand and tilted your face up to look at her.

“It’ll be alright, my flower. Don’t you worry.”

You smiled and pulled her into an embrace.

“I love you, Ma.”

~~~~

The familiar sensation of steel squelching around flesh flew through Din’s arm, the sound now an insignificant buzz in his ears.

“It’s nothing personal,” he breathed, voice low and neutral. “It’s just a job.”

He cradled the man’s body as he sputtered and struggled for breath, until he fell limp and slumped to the ground below. Din straightened up and cleaned the blood off his dagger before re-sheathing it, looking down at the victim below: a lowly blacksmith from the outskirts of Sorgan who’d accepted a job working with the Queen. A job Din had to take from him to achieve his goal.

He strode over to his horse and retrieved a thick fabric, taking care when wrapping the body up before concealing it underneath a nearby brush.

Din continued down the country road on his trusted steed, details of the job assigned to him days prior fresh in his mind.

Get in, kill the princess, get out.

His life had always been filled with similar vagueness and urgency. He’d been raised by other assassins much more skilled than himself, yet as he grew, his skills had bested them all. All except the Queen herself.

That’s what Mandalore was famous for, after all. Greatest, cleanest, quietest assassins of any nation. They were hired all across the world to deal with the unsavory desires of the wealthy and greedy.

Not that they always resorted to such methods to keep their own power; their military was a formidable force all its own that has won its share of fair fights.

But this was no fight. This was damage prevention.

This had to be discreet. Quiet. Unseen. Professional. Impersonal.

Just like Din.

The target was not an easy one. But according to General Kryze and the Queen herself, even at the behest of Commander Vizla, Din was the best of the best. If anyone could fulfill this task, it was him.

The coronation was set to take place in one year; because of past failures by other assassins, this would need to be a longer process. Din would use this time to settle in and lay low until he could do the deed, stick around just long enough to avoid suspicion, then disappear while everyone was distracted with the aftermath.

And so he rode on through the twilight, scheduled to arrive at the capital city by daybreak, and make quick work of the progressive princess.

~~~~

The following morning, the palace was bristling with kinetic energy. The arrival of new faces stirred up every working person under that roof, including you and your mother.

After every new arrival met you both as a group in the Queen’s chamber that morning, they were divided into their respectful designations and started getting familiar with the rest of the staff. Over the course of the week, you were to visit each area of the palace that they worked in and have a more personal introduction, ensuring you knew every single new face that would be in proximity to you and have a hand in your protection.

Not only was this a precaution to ensure that outsiders could not gain entry to the palace, but it also served as a show of gratitude and respect for the work each staff member did. Too long had they gone without recognition, you always thought. When your father was still around, he never believed in giving such dignity to the people who worked firsthand to uplift his nation.

That attitude disgusted you. With your mother’s support you wasted no time changing that dynamic when your father passed.

Between meetings with the council and other succession procedures, you made time to visit the stables, the kitchen, and the armed guard. Later on in the week, on a cloudy afternoon, you made your way to the structure that housed the artisans’ work area.

Only one new artisan joined the staff: a blacksmith, specializing in forging weapons out of steel. Such a skill was hard to come by outside of Coruscant or Mandalore; you were eager to meet them. Fennec accompanied you as you stepped into the building, where everyone halted their work and stood at attention.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the head artisan, Kuiil, greeted.

“Please, as you were,” you said with a smile.

Kuiil was among your favorite people in the whole palace: always a joy to speak with, and always mindful of others’ well-being. And despite his small stature, he was capable of more than most hoped to be; he could weld, sew, and sculpt, among many other things. Much of Sorgan's more recent industrial success was owed to him.

After a brief catch-up with him, he brought you to the back of the main work room, where your new addition was already working on a project.

His back was turned to you as he shoveled coal into the fiery kiln, the tips of his brown hair damp with sweat, muscles straining against his efforts.

“Mr. Vaun,” Kuiil called, “Her Royal Highness has arrived.”

The man stilled and put down the shovel before turning to face you, his forearm coming up to wipe the sweat from his face.

Your brow rose as you took him in: pointed jaw and nose, silky brown skin, dark brown scruff that matched the short, curly mop on his head. Bushy eyebrows were slightly scrunched together. His breaths came in slow and deep, his chest puffing up with each one and stretching out the thin tunic he wore.

But what really caught your attention were his eyes. They were dark, hooded, yet shimmering with life. Like a stained-glass window that gave way for light, but partially shielded whatever lay on the other side.

They were beautiful. You cleared your throat as heat began to collect in your cheeks.

His gaze darted about before coming to rest on you, his expression tight.

“Your Highness,” he mumbled with a small bow of the head.

Making eye contact with him lit a fire in you. The hair on the back of your head stood, your heartbeat quickening. Something sparked in his eyes as well, something you couldn’t identify. You took a deep breath and gave him a small nod in return.

“This is Din Vaun,” Kuiil said, “he’ll be helping us create more steel weapons. And he’ll also be helping me with the construction of a new wagon I’ve designed.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vaun. Thank you so much for joining us.”

Mr. Vaun’s brow scrunched together for a moment before he nodded again.

“Thank you for-” he cleared his throat, “for the opportunity, Your Highness.”

~~~~

Din didn’t dare move a muscle until you and your guard had left the building. It was strange enough having anyone see his face after all these years, but to look directly into the eyes of his target…

That was new.

But there was no other way. In order to blend in, he couldn’t wear his Mandalorian uniform. While there were some citizens of Sorgan who came from Mandalore, the Queen knew them all and was known for screening them before granting them permission to stay.

It never would’ve worked for Din. He’d become a suspect right away once you were dead. He had to take every precaution to keep that from happening.

When Kuiil assured him that he was free to keep working, Din picked up his shovel and went back to tossing coal into the raging flame. Memories of the day before — killing off the unfortunate soul that was supposed to be here, then strategically hiding his Mandalorian gear before arriving — flashed in his mind.

Taking it off irritated every first instinct he held.

No one in Mandalore removed their helmets in front of people outside their families. Since Din did not have one, he did not remove it unless he was alone. That was the way. Only the Queen and some of his peers knew his face, and even they hadn’t seen it in decades. She had granted him a pardon for this job, but that did not erase Din’s guilt.

Even when he got here, he didn’t dare make eye contact with anyone.

But then you walked in. And for some reason he couldn’t help himself.

Din had never felt more naked, more vulnerable, than he did under your gaze. It was as if your bright eyes peered into his very soul. Goosebumps rose all over his skin. Some kind of spark was lit in the very pit of his stomach.

Was that normal?

Din sighed as he shoved one last pile of coal into the fire, staring into the flames to distract his mind. His jobs had never before required him to outfit an opposing army with some of the best craftsmanship in the world, but there was little he could do about that now. If success meant sacrificing a few swords and spears, so be it.

Plus, it gave him a small piece of familiarity to cling to.

~~~~

“Where is he from again?” you asked Fennec on your way back to the main palace.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Highness. I’ll be sure to find out for you.”

“I’ve never seen eyes like his before,” you muttered to yourself.

And you really hadn’t. They had a certain fire to them, something alive and bursting with energy, unlike anything you could’ve imagined. The sight of them was eternally pinned to your mind’s eye, the moment you spent staring into them replaying any time you so much as blinked.

Your next activity for the day was a combat lesson. At your request, and despite the former King’s disapproval, you were being trained to fight. With any and all weapons, and with your own hands as well. After years of practice you were now a master archer and sword fighter, along with some other choice weapons. Your current lessons were in hand-to-hand combat as well as jousting lances.

But what you truly wanted to learn was something no one in the vicinity was able to teach you: spear fighting.

You weren’t sure why you were drawn to spears. Perhaps it was the wise tales your mother used to tell you as a child. Or the histories you used to read about that described how your ancestors used to use them. Regardless, every spear master in the Queen’s army was currently at Sorgan’s borders to screen any and all entries and exits, serving as the nation’s first line of defense.

You changed and spent an hour practicing hand-to-hand combat with Fennec in the palace’s sweatroom: an area your mother had converted solely for you. The former ballroom gained much more use with its revamp, now sporting various equipment and weapons in the corners and along the walls, cushioned mats all around, and a view of the courtyard below from the grand windows.

Guards were stationed outside the door and on the balcony that lined the room anytime you were inside. This way you were given privacy to train, but should you need them, every guard would be able to hear you from their post.

You were getting better at blocking Fennec’s hits and returning them with your own. As she swept in with her leg you jumped up to dodge and tackled her to the ground, pinning her arms on either side of her head.

“Well done, Princess. Nice dodge.”

You chuckled and caught your breath as you helped her up. Your favorite part about these lessons was having your instructors be less formal with you. You made it clear they could address you however they pleased in this room, that rank was no factor. It established their agency and built a sense of trust you otherwise wouldn’t have.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness, it’s time for the council meeting.”

You groaned.

“Why so glum?” Fennec asked.

“As interesting as these meetings are,” you started, wiping down your sweaty face with a cloth, “they are also incredibly long. My mind can only absorb so much at once.”

“Well, perhaps we can arrange something more relaxing for you this weekend. A treat for getting through them.”

She winked at you, and you grinned.

“Gather the gang, set a time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~~~~

At the end of that week, on Saturday morning, Din made his way into the palace with the rest of the artisans for breakfast. Apparently you let all the staff members eat in the palace’s dining hall and feast on food made by the royal chefs. This wasn’t the type of treatment Din expected. Given Mandalore’s customs, it was confusing.

He eyed the large dining area as he walked through. Up until then he just sat with Kuiil while he ate, but it was about time he started gathering information.

His intel told him that the golden pauldrons worn on the right shoulders of the armed guard soldiers meant they were Commanders. Two golden pauldrons signified Generals, and golden helmets signified Admirals. There were not many Generals or Admirals to be seen around the dining area, but Din spotted a couple Commanders.

In the far corner one sat alone. Perfect, Din thought. Surely this guard wouldn’t remember talking with a random staff member, and he may be able to learn a helpful thing or two.

Once Din received a tray of food, he pretended to search for a seat before making his way towards the guard.

“Pardon me, may I join you? I’m afraid the other tables are full.”

The guard nodded and waved him over. Din sat across from him.

“I don’t recognize you, are you new here?” he asked.

“Yes,” Din started, “just arrived a few days ago.”

The guard nodded and held out his hand.

“Cobb Vanth.”

“Din Vaun.”

It felt strange to use an alias. Another thing no past job required of him. Though it did provide a sense of security, like he was still able to hide a piece of himself from the world.

“Pleasure to meet you, Din,” Cobb said with a crooked grin. “Tell me, what do you do ‘round here?”

“I’m a blacksmith,” Din said in between bites of food. “I specialize in steel weapons.”

Cobb’s brow raised.

“That’s a pretty rare skill. Where you from where you could learn to weld like that?”

Din gulped and mentally began to scan a world map. There was only one other nation as well-known for its steelwork.

“Coruscant.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

“How about you?” Din asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.

“I’m from Tatooine. Tiny little district called Mos Pelgo that got taken over back in the Bandit days.”

Din nodded. The Bandit Days referred to the purging of most of Tatooine by foreign invaders. They’d since been run out, but the nation was left in ruins.

“Luckily I made it out before it got real bad. Found my way here, and the rest is history.”

“It’s interesting how this place operates,” Din said, “I didn’t expect to be treated this way by royalty.”

“They are made different here,” Cobb said with a nod. “Unlike most, the Princess and the Queen see us all as humans. And they treat us as such. Though the King wasn’t like that, the old bastard.”

“What do you mean?”

“The King was basically like any ol’ tyrant you could imagine. Always scowlin’, had to get his message across by yellin’. Made Her Majesty and Her Highness miserable.”

Cobb shook his head and bit into his food. Din scrunched his brow. This guy was talking about the royals as if they were his family.

“The Princess pushed for better treatment of palace staff while he was around, but he always ignored her. Didn’t stop her from sneakin’ around and doin’ it anyway.”

Din ate a mouthful of bread, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Now that the old creaton is gone she really stepped up and made sure we were taken care of. And so we do that in return when we can.”

Now that was interesting.

“How’s that?”

Cobb eyed Din with a brow raised.

“However she may need.”

He left it at that and revisited his meal. Din gave a small nod and did the same. These dynamics were going to make it difficult to learn anything useful.

“Room for one more?”

Din looked up to see a familiar woman in black armor settling into a seat at the small table.

“Ah, Miss Shand,” Cobb started, tone playful, “there will always be room for you.”

She waved him off and turned to Din.

“You're the new blacksmith, correct? Mr. Vaun?”

Din nodded as he finished chewing on his food. He cleared his throat and held out a tentative hand to her, hoping that mimicking Cobb's gesture would come off the right way.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Fennec Shand,” she said as she shook it with a grin.

“Can’t believe we got someone from Coruscant,” Cobb said, “Queen must be thrilled.”

“It is pretty lucky,” Fennec responded, “was there a reason you left Coruscant?”

She eyed Din with a certain level of skepticism, her eyes seemingly searching for some kind of clue. Din took a breath, trying to come up with an answer.

“I, um,” he started, “I left Coruscant not too long ago. Wanted to travel, explore new places.”

Even to Din it was a dumb answer. He inwardly cringed as he waited for Fennec and Cobb to react. They were silent, as if waiting for him to continue.

“My life there wasn’t much, I…” he paused and thought for a moment, thinking of how to expand. “I wanted to do something more with the skills I have. And the chance just wasn’t there in Coruscant.”

Fennec nodded.

“That’s very noble.”

The three of them made idle chit chat after that, talking about other new arrivals and telling anecdotes from various little moments around the palace. Din mostly listened, searching through their words for any information that may help with the job, and berating himself for how he handled what few questions he was asked.

No prior job had required this much talking.

Din finished up his meal and excused himself from the table, ears still listening in as he walked away.

“Oh, and Cobb-” Fennec said, “meet us for a session at the stables.”

Din's brows shot up; that was obvious code for something.

And he was going to find out what it was.

~~~~

That night, you were finishing the laces on your riding boots just as a soft knock sounded at your door.

“Come in,” you said.

Fennec came through with a grin.

“You ready, Princess?”

You returned her smile and nodded.

“Let’s do it.”

The two of you snuck through the dark and silent corridors of the palace, making your way down the grand staircase and through the foyer to reach the stables. Yellow candlelight bounced off the walls and along the surrounding surfaces. The faces of your ancestors that were immortalized in portraits partially came to life under their glow.

Awaiting you among the rows of horses were Cobb, Sir Fett, your seamstress, Omera, and Koska, another member of the guard. You and Fennec stepped through the hay-strewn cobblestone to reach them.

“Are we all set?” you asked Sir Fett.

“Ready when you are, my dear.” he said with a grin.

With that you led them out towards the exit, but stopped short when you spotted a new horse at the end of the row.

She was gorgeous; a grey coat with dark spots in some areas that seemed to shine against the dim yellow light, a mane blacker than the void itself. She was a decent specimen, nothing overly fancy. Yet something about her entranced you. Her head drooped as she slumbered. You resisted the urge to reach over the gate and pet her.

“Whose horse is this?”

“I believe it belongs to one of the new arrivals,” Sir Fett responded.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered.

After another moment of admiring the steed, you pushed on. The group’s horses were already saddled and ready to ride just outside. You mounted yours and gently coaxed him forward down the dirt path that lined the outskirts of the palace. The cool air of the night ignited every goosebump in your arms with its bite; you shivered against it.

The world around you was almost pitch black, save for the soft moonlight that outlined each stone in the palace walls and each tree that protruded out of the ground. Fennec, Sir Fett, Cobb, and Omera were carrying lanterns that mixed their ochre hue into the night as well. The group soon headed off palace grounds and into the dark forest ahead. The smell of pine overwhelmed your senses.

Despite the increased danger that accompanied the night, you couldn’t help smiling as you took in its beauty.

Throughout every era of your life, you lived for the night. It was your friend, your confidante, your savior. It kept your stressors away, whisking you into its fantastical bliss whenever you so much as glanced into the starry sky above, or gazed at the ever-present moon. The night gave you freedom, gave you purchase to pursue the types of happiness that you didn’t have the time for otherwise.

A sudden rustling pulled you from your thoughts and had you halting your horse. Everyone else followed suit, slowly surrounding you.

“Which direction did it come from?” you whispered to Fennec.

“Behind us.”

Sir Fett turned his horse around.

“Stay put, Your Highness. Koska, with me.”

The two of them guided their horses down the way you all had come. You held your breath and waited, your hand gripping the handle on your sword.

“Show yourself,” Sir Fett called, “There’s no use running.”

Silence.

Then a sudden thud.

Every head turned in the direction of the noise.

In the path before you, a tree branch had fallen right where you would’ve passed through.

“Forgive me,”

You turned towards the voice to see Mr. Vaun standing before you all, hands raised in the air.

“I heard noises and wanted to investigate. When I noticed the weakening branch I wanted to distract you without frightening you. My apologies, Your Highness.”

His story sounded off in a way. You dismounted your horse and made your way towards him.

“Your Highness-”

You cut Sir Fett off with a hand in the air, your eyes not leaving Mr. Vaun’s.

“How did you notice the branch, Mr. Vaun?”

“I could hear it crackling,” he said, “It’s a very quiet sound but a trained ear can perceive it.”

“A trained ear?” you pressed.

“Yes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Why would a blacksmith have such training?

“Why did you investigate on your own?” you asked.

His eyes bore into yours. Even in the dark of night, their fiery brown irises inspired a flame of your own under your skin.

“I used to be a guard back home. It’s an instinct of mine.”

“You were a blacksmith and a guard?” you raised a brow.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s not uncommon in Coruscant.”

You raised your chin as you took in his words. Fennec had mentioned learning he was from Coruscant; it only increased the mystery around him.

Coruscant was very unlike Sorgan, but not in ways that were negative. Their customs and traditions were as unique to them as those of any nation, but things like this were a stark contrast to Sorgan, where guards and blacksmiths didn't have enough common training for one to easily become both.

That would at least explain how he heard the tree branch, you thought. You squeezed the handle on your sword.

“Tell me, Mr. Vaun, how good are you with a weapon?”

His lip twitched upward in what looked like amusement.

“Good enough, Your Highness.”

You narrowed your eyes. The air between you both was suddenly thicker. Even though there was a distance between you, it seemed as though his very eyes were feeling their way around your skin, dissecting your every move. You stepped closer to him until he was just a couple feet in front of you.

You had to look up to maintain eye contact as he towered over you. You tilted your head as you took in his features under the moonlight teasing through the trees; sharp contrasts outlined the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, along with his chin and forehead. His eyes seemed to glow in the night, their warmth thawing out the darkness around them. His lips were in a firm line across his face, a slight plumpness visible among their shadows.

You smirked. Time to test his confidence.

In the blink of an eye you drew your sword and swung. He reacted with unexpected practice and ease, dodging your blow and moving behind you, grabbing your arm and positioning the sword at your neck, the other pinned behind your back.

Adrenaline surged through your veins. His breath tickled your ear, the warmth from his hands burning into your skin. You were amazed at how big they were; your own dwarfed in comparison. His heart thumped against your back. Even, but fast.

You turned your head to look at him. His face was just inches from your own. He returned your gaze, eyes darting down to your lips for a brief second.

You heard horses shuffling about behind you.

“It’s alright,” you called, unable to look away from him. “I’m fine.”

You stayed in his grip for a prolonged moment before stepping away and sheathing your sword, his grip on you slipping and his warmth leaving with it. The air felt twice as cold as it did before.

“Had to see for myself, after all,” you said with a breathy laugh, despite your shaking nerves. “Talk is cheap around here when it comes to skill.”

Fennec shook her head with a chuckle.

Mr. Vaun looked between you and the group behind him, confusion etched all over his expression.

“Come with us,” you said with a smile. “You can ride with me.”

He seemed even more confused. You didn’t give him room to ask questions before ushering him towards your horse.

“I don’t know about this, Princess,” Sir Fett said, genuine concern coating his words. You smiled at him.

“I have some of the best warriors in Sorgan right here,” you started, turning around to face the group. “If he somehow fucks up, I trust he’ll be dead before any of you could take a breath.”

You looked back at Mr. Vaun.

“But I have a feeling he’s not going to…”

He gulped under your gaze. You smirked and raised a brow at him.

“Are you now, Mr. Vaun?”

His eyes betrayed a sense of foreboding that you couldn’t fathom. But there was a hint of admiration among them as well. He shook his head.

“Good.”

You walked ahead and mounted your horse, holding your hand out to him. He stared at it, then looked around to the rest of the group before taking it.

Electricity bloomed between your skin and his. It took everything you had not to flinch away. He hoisted himself up behind you, his chest pressed flush against your back, his thighs hugging yours. You took a deep breath and embraced the warmth he provided as you turned your horse and nudged him forward.

The ride to the archery range seemed longer than usual. Having Mr. Vaun pressed against you was doing something to your senses; you could only seem to focus on his presence. He was warm, still, heartbeat steady against your back once more. Part of you wanted to lean into his chest. Another part of you feared for your life as you replayed him disarming you with a scary type of precision. He had the blade of your sword pressed just above the skin of your neck before you could even register that he moved.

You had no reason to believe he would, but what was to stop him from dropping you where you stood?

And why was that so thrilling?

The group halted once the forest parted and gave way to the archery range: a vast rectangular clearing fenced by the trees of the surrounding forest, more than open enough for a team of archers to practice in peace. It was almost like its own field of reality, independent of the earth around it. Posts designed to hold arrows stood in a line close to you while targets were placed on the far end. You let Mr. Vaun dismount first before hopping off your horse and tying him to a nearby tree. The rest of the group followed suit and you all gathered in a circle in the grass.

“What’ll it be tonight, Princess?” Fennec asked. You stroked your chin in thought, taking in the group surrounding you.

Including yourself there were seven of you: one more than usual. You eyed Mr. Vaun as he looked down at the grass; he was broad, muscles smooth yet thick underneath his tunic. Tall, but not wonky. He should be able to keep up with our usual activities, you thought to yourself.

You channeled the events of the week through your mind, searching through them for the release you’d been lacking. Endless meetings, sitting down and listening to swarm after swarm of new information about other nations, other nobility, and changing political climates. You had been surrounded by conversations concerning potential battle, peace talk strategies, and overall fear and rigidity.

You smiled as you thought of the perfect activity.

“Let’s start with some good old-fashioned sparring,” you said, “then we’ll shoot some arrows.”

“I call Boba,” Koska called with a grin. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to punch you in the lip, old man.”

Boba laughed and shoved her shoulder.

“Easy there, little one.”

They ran off to begin sparring while you eyed the rest of the group.

“I’ll take watch, Princess.” Cobb said as he raised his hand.

“You sure?”

He nodded.

“Better than getting my ass kicked by any of you lovely ladies.”

With a chuckle he ran off to remount his horse.

“Fennec, why don’t you spar with Omera tonight?”

“Sure,” Fennec gave Omera a nod. Her cheeks turned a rosy pink as she nodded in return and headed off.

You smiled at them before looking towards your remaining partner. He was still staring down at the ground.

“You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Vaun.”

He quirked his head before sighing.

“This is just a very different environment than I’m used to, Your Highness.”

“I understand,” you said with a nod. “I don’t expect that the royal family of Coruscant would do things like this.”

He nodded.

“But if you’re going to be part of this little group of mine, you'll need to be okay with being a little less formal. That’s the best part of these outings.”

He dragged his eyes up to meet yours.

“You only just got here, I understand that it’ll take time. For now let’s just spar.”

You stepped up to him, but he didn’t move from his position.

“Simple stuff,” you said with a shrug. “The goal is just to pin the other person down first. Don’t be fooled by Koska and Sir Fett, no brawl needs to be had.”

His lips twitched upward. You gave him a smile.

“What do you say?”

His eyes searched yours, curiosity dancing about in their brown glow. Your smile grew a bit as you waited for his response.

After a moment he nodded and stepped forward. You began to circle each other, gaze unbroken.

Neither of you said a word. You continued staring each other down for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually his eye darted behind you to the other two pairs going at it.

That’s when you charged.

You came at him with lightning-fast speed, aiming to tackle him down. He swerved around your arms and tripped you. You stumbled forward but found your footing just in time to pull the same trick on him. With a huff he fell to the ground; you pressed your heel to his neck.

“Nice try,” you said.

He looked dazed. Confused. It was your favorite look to get from an opponent who didn’t know your strength.

“Wait,” he breathed, “is the rule to get your opponent on the ground, or to pin them down?”

Your brow shot up. You tried to jerk your foot away, but it was too late.

He grabbed onto it and dragged you down with him, arms pressing onto your shoulders. You let out a laugh and rolled him over.

The two of you traveled through the grass, desperate to keep the other still. His touch was so warm and firm against your chill. Finally you were able to press your knees to his sides and your legs over his hips to keep him below you, your arms firmly planting his shoulders on the ground.

He looked even more confused than before, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he caught his breath. You were catching yours as well; his arms were sprawled out on either side of his head, yet their firm grip was stained to your skin.

His chest heaved beneath yours. You couldn’t help matching his pattern. His eyes summoned that same flame deep within you from the day you met him, the one you didn't understand. What was it about him, you wondered. You tried to push the thought aside and regain your playful demeanor. You leaned in closer to him with a grin.

“Pin ‘em down,” you whispered, “Thanks for the reminder.”

~~~~

When the group returned to the stables, Fennec took your horse and returned him to his slumber. You stood outside with Mr. Vaun, the rest of the group loitering nearby.

“You know, I enjoyed having you along tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“You put up quite a fight,” you said with a chuckle. “It was refreshing.”

“How so?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I guess I just get the feeling that the others go easy on me. It might just be subconscious, but it’s there.” You gave him a smile. “It was nice to get a fairer fight.”

He gulped and gave you a nod, his energy becoming timid once more.

“I’d love for you to join us next time, if you’d like. As long as I can count on your discretion.”

“My discretion?”

You nodded, your tone becoming more serious.

“Very few know that I do this. And I technically shouldn’t be now, given recent events.” You stepped closer to him.

“If you’re to join us, this must be kept silent. Is that understood?”

He looked you up and down before nodding.

“Good,” you said with a smirk. You patted his chest with the back of your hand and turned to head in the stables.

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Vaun.”

Fennec met up with you next to the stable that held your horse.

“Are you sure about this, Princess? We don’t know him yet.”

You shrugged and looked back the way you came.

“I’ve got a feeling about him. Like he might be hiding something, or that there’s just something more to him. I want to find out what it is.”

“Should you really be running towards unknowns right now?”

“I know,” you turned back to her. “I really shouldn’t. But I have you all to protect me. It’ll all be fine.”

You stopped there, but there were a million more thoughts in your head. You didn’t mention the mysterious heat that erupted in your gut whenever you looked at him, the tingling sensation left over from his touch, or the way his peculiarly strong fighting skills had you feeling a new type of thrill that you so desperately wanted to chase.

Or the amount of fascinating falsehoods that lurked within his words.

~~~~

As you and Fennec weaved your way through the palace, you replayed the look on Omera’s face when you paired them up.

“How was sparring with Omera?” you asked.

“Fine,” she said with a shrug. “She’s very capable.”

You smirked. Omera’s crush on Fennec was more obvious than the sun in the sky, yet somehow Fennec was clueless to it. You wondered how long Omera would wait before saying something.

When you got back to your room, Fennec bid you goodnight before taking her post outside your door.

You had multiple guards on most nights, but when you snuck out it was necessary for Fennec to take an extra shift. You felt guilty each time for depriving her of a couple hours of sleep that she definitely needed. But she never complained.

You were lucky to have her. Every day you were thankful for her, and for every other person that worked so hard to uphold the palace you called home.

As you got ready and settled into bed, you replayed the night’s events in your mind. The memory of Mr. Vaun’s body tangled with yours while you were rolling around, his large, calloused hands pressing your shoulders down, felt like a phantom floating above you. As if he were still right there, staring at you with those mysterious brown eyes.

You turned onto your side and nuzzled into your pillow.

Having new people in the castle was a good change of pace, but this was a much more drastic shift.

~~~~

This was the polar opposite of laying low.

The events of the night before replayed in Din’s head while he poured the liquid steel into its mold.

He only meant to follow you to see if he could learn your routine, to see if he could sneak up on you when the time came.

He hadn’t expected a brigade of Sorgan’s best to be taking you for a joyride.

And he certainly hadn’t expected to join in.

Damn that tree branch. He could’ve let it crush you, but then he wouldn’t get paid. The only way to prevent that was to reveal himself to you. But the resulting outcome complicated everything.

His job required that his presence be quiet, that he keep his head down and blend in. But he failed, and now you had a new expectation for him. And if his interactions up to now said anything about you, this meant all of Sorgan’s highest ranking personnel would notice if he were to suddenly vanish after your death. He had to rethink his timing.

Yet on the other hand, that excursion taught him things about you he would not have otherwise known. He may have held back during your wrestling match, but not by much. Your strength was impeccable; it impressed him. You were much more than the frail royal he assumed you were. Watching you shoot bullseye after bullseye was also eye-opening; who knew a Princess would be a master archer as well?

His mind continued to wander, moving back to the moment you tested him. He had to hold himself back from accidentally cutting you down with your own sword, and the look in your eyes was still stuck in his mind. You looked frightful, yes, but something else was flirting with it. Something he couldn’t identify.

Something he wanted to see more of.

Seeing your eyes so filled with light and life, something he could never see through his helmet, sent a shiver down his spine.

You were something else. It wouldn’t be as easy to kill you as he initially thought. His whole plan needed rethinking.

The skin of his shoulders began to tingle, right where you'd touched him. Every inch of him was burning when he got back to bed that night, and he laid awake with the phantoms of your arms and legs pinning him down; when was the last time anyone had laid their hands so close to his skin? He couldn't recall.

He took a deep breath. It was too much.

First your eyes, now your touch.

All too quickly you were exposing him to aspects of life that never occurred in Mandalore. And he wasn't sure what to do about it. Every alarm began screaming in his head.

This was not the way.

So why was he so intrigued by it?

****

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