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robynlilyblack · 5 months ago

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But you’re over here

Fred Weasley x fem! shy! Potter! Reader

Summary: During the final game of the season, a certain redhead couldn’t care less about the trophy

Warnings/tags: swearing, friends to lovers, first kiss, getting together, mutual pining, Hufflepuff reader, potter reader, James being a good dad, Cedric being the best wing and hype man, Jess, Timothy and Joey OCs, marauders being parents

A/n: 4.4k words, ngl the alchemy plays in my head during this kiss scene, apologies for any mistakes I'm a bit ill right now, as always reader can be the bio or adopted older daughter of James and Lily, based on this and this requests ♡

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

“Oh boy, oh boy!” James claps his hands, rubbing them together in excitement as he, Lily, Remus, and Sirius reach the top of the stands

Lily giggles at her husband's enthusiasm, following him to the front row, while Remus and Sirius brace themselves at the top, catching their breaths after a quite frankly atrocious number of stairs

Today was the big game, not only was it the old rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but it was the final, and the first year Harry was serving as captain after Oliver passed the torch to him two years ago. It was safe to say as fun as the Triwizard tournament was the previous year, quidditch was still the marauders and co’s favourite pastime. Hell, the whole school was buzzing

“Were they always that high?” Sirius whispers, rubbing his chest “Fuck me” he breathes heavily

“I think we’re just old now my love” Remus chuckles, after all these years he still can’t help but wind up his husband just a little bit

Sirius makes a face “Fuck you! I’m not old…you’re old!” he childishly argues, wearing a grumpy pout that twitches everyone once and again, revealing the smile beneath

“And when is your birthday?”

Sirius’ mouth opens to reply but alas the man has nothing and is caught looking like a fish, though he’s a very cute fish in Remus’ mind

“We might be old…but you’re still as pretty as you were last time we were up here” Remus compliments, leaning down to peck Sirius’ tinting cheeks “Pretty boy” he whispers one last blow before pushing off the beam and joining his friends leaving Sirius flustered

“Pads? You comin?” James calls out, head shooting over “Ohhhh” James barks a knowing laugh, whispering something to Remus and patting his back as he sits down

Sirius can’t help but let out a small smile as they turn away “He thinks I’m pretty” he mutters all giddy to himself before joining his friends, taking a seat between Remus and James, with Lily on James’ other side

“See! I told you we were smart coming early, it’s already beginning to fill up” Lily points out, smiling to herself as she shrugs off her jacket, grabbing the others as well, before laying them on the seats behind them to save room for when the McKinnon’s made their fashionably late appearance

James smiles, hand finding the top of Lily's head “That we were, hun” he agrees, patting her head and soaking up her proud little smile as she smooths out the rest of the coats

“Who are you looking for?” Remus asks, pulling James’ attention back to find Sirius squinting off into the distance

“Our goddaughter, I haven’t seen her in ages” Sirius pouts, squinting harder

“You saw her at Easter break” James chuckles

“Oh yeah” Sirius nods, remembering “Still, I miss her” he confesses, warming the men's hearts

Sirius and Remus decided against children, not that they didn’t want them per se, more they couldn’t confirm the child's safety with Remus’ furry little problem. As such, they filled that hole with you and Harry. Sirius took an extra shine to you though, maybe it was your shy yet cheeky nature that reminded him of Remus, or maybe it’s the little bit of himself he saw in you, watching you get sorted into Hufflepuff when everyone else in your big, wonderfully weird family was Gryffindor. Whatever it was, though today was Harry’s day, he still had to make sure you were alright

“Do you want your glasses?” Remus offers, sighing as he watches his husbands sorry display and reaches for his bag

Sirius swats his hand away “I don’t need glasses moony, I’m fine. It’s just the wind, it’s blowing stuff in my eyes” he gestures around his face, scrunching his nose before attempting to subtly squint again

Remus’ eyes meet James’, shaking his head as he mouths ‘why can’t he admit defeat?’

James smirks, shrugging as he turns away, now interested in where you were, as is Lily after overhearing the debacle. The four searched for you as the student body make their way to the stands. Glancing around Remus’ spots a wild Weasley, smiling as he watches Ron attempt to hold back his blushes as Hermione fixes the red paint on his cheeks. Lily spots Neville, Ginny and Luna in another stand wearing their handmade lion mains. Sirius spots well…nothing, but your father on the other hand is the one to finally find you.

He watches as you enter the stand diagonal to them with Cedric, Jess and two other boys he doesn’t quite recognise but based on their green scarfs must be Timothy and Joey, which would be two out of the four very few Slytherins in this world he accepted were good, the others being his best friends’ brother and the one and only Dorcas Meadows

“Found her” he points with joy “There she is, ain’t our little fawn beautiful” he shines, causing all their eyes to fall on you as you all worm your way to the front of your own stand

“It’s funny seeing them in red and gold” Remus notes, an amused look as he observes yours, Cedric, and Jess’s Gryffindor scarves, most likely stolen from your brother and his friends…or perhaps secretly gifted from one particular Weasley

Lily nods, but her head tilts to the side as your head taps the taller of the other boy's shoulders “They seem close, which one is he again, Tim or Joe?” she ponders trying to remember

“Tim, she said he was tall in the letters” James confirms “They aren’t together” he says with confidence

“And how would you know that Captain Oblivious?” Remus’ laughs, eyeing his friend but then his gaze drifts to peak at his husband, who's been unusually quiet, realising he’s still very much struggling to see you

Remus slowly collects the glasses from his bag again and holds them up in offering

“Dammit” Sirius sighs accepting the truth and putting them on, looking grumpy until his eyes widen, like he’s seeing a brand-new world

“Better love?” Remus teases while pointing you out again

“Shut up moo…aww there she is, beautiful as ever” he adjusts them smiling “Wait…whoa” he looks at James doing a double take as everything is now in high definition “You’ve aged so well” he notes

James’ smirks “Why thank you, I steal Lily’s muggles products” he admits unapologetically, not that it’s much of a surprise to the girl next to him who just rolls her eyes, accepting the fact she now buys two of every product just for him

“It’s the one with lighter hair, not Cedric, the taller one” Remus points out to Sirius

“Oh…” Sirius eyes the boy, judging “...nah”

“What do you mean nah?” everyone jumps a little at first turning around to see Marlene, Dorcas and the cutest little lion there had ever been joining them “Holy shi… sugar those specks are something” Marlene laughs, catching herself before glancing at her wife, mouthing an apology while their daughter looks up at them confused

“Suu’gar” the little cub repeats before pointing at Sirius “Specky!” she says excitedly “Unkie Jams t‘win” she claps, pointing between James and Sirius before jumping and clapping again all happy with herself

Sirius’ quickly pulls the glasses off, cheeks heating while the others struggle to hold in their giggles

“I don’t need them” he looks straight at Marlene, trying his best to be convincing

She just gives him a ‘really’ look in return before smiling softly

Sirius half chuckles, half sighs as he admits defeat, flashing the women a genuine smile “It’s good to see you Marls, you too Dorca darlin” he then looks down at little Lacy “Hello little cub” he coos

“Rwah!” Lacy holds up her hands in a claw motion, doing her best lion impression

It was well known the Marauders had one brain cell between them, but when that cell fired it was magical, all including her mothers and godmother pretended she was the most fearsome thing they’d ever beheld, even a couple other parents who had taken seats little ways down joined in. After some pleas and chocolate offered to calm the beast, the group settled in again, catching up as they waited for the game to start.

You rocked on your feet, eyes continually flicking to the players entrance in anticipation

“You good sunshine?” you feel a soft pat to the top of your head, looking up you’re greeted with Timothy's soft smile, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he checked in, worried the ruckus and busyness of the stand was a bit overwhelming for you

You gently tap your head into his shoulder, nodding “I’m good…just excited” you confess with warm cheeks as your nose is flooded with the scent of your scarf again

“Ahhhh” he elongates, giving you and then the scarf a look “Y/n and Freddie sitting in a tree” he whisper sings

Your eyes widen before you attempt a scowl that looks more like a puppy pouting “Shut up” you chide, fixing the scarf a little before looking away, hoping Cedric, Jess and Joey were having a more in depth conversion but instead you find them grinning “Sugar” you press your lips into a downturned smile

They all looked at each other before singing in unison

“K…i…s…s…i…n…g!”

Despite your cheeks positively flaming around the second ‘s’, you can help but break into a smile. Your friends knew about your little crush on the Weasley boy from afar. Despite your brother’s closeness with the family you didn’t have such ties, you adored Ginny on the few occasions she had visited, along with Ron and Hermione, but as for the rest of the clan your paths rarely crossed. You were meant to spend the summer with them as your families decided to holiday together, but when Cedric won the Triwizard tournament that changed, and instead, he took you and your friends traveling with the prize money

Yours paths finally crossed at the beginning of the school year, when Sprout created a seating pattern allowing everyone to get familiar with their randomised Herbology partner before the end of year assignment. You were nervous at first, as you were sure the professor was when she pulled out your names. Putting the quietest person in Hogwarts with the loudest person seemed like it would either be the worst pairing she had ever seen or the most genius

To her good fortune…and ego, it was the latter. It was surprising to see the king of mischief actually try with his assignments, but most chalked it up to the fact that while you were quiet, you were well-loved by your year, you held no prejudices, helped people with their assignments when the asked you, and was just in general sweet to everyone, to the point even the meanest Slytherins were a little soft on you. Therefore, most assumed Fred couldn’t bear to let you down either, and while that was true at first, a second reason soon bloomed for the boy

It bloomed for you as well, you slowly opened up to him each class, topics drifting to something deeper, and by the time Christmas rolled around you both were close friends. So close in fact you began inviting him to your friend’s secret hideaway by black lake, at first to study, but then to hang out both with and without your other friends. It was funny at first, with Cedric and Jess being rivals in quidditch and Timothy and Joey's Slytherin status, but Fred warmed to them, gaining their trust and, not that they told either of you, their blessing

“I hate you all” you pout, falling into Cedric’s side hug as you shake your head

“Nah” Timothy joins from the other side

“You love us” Jess chimes in, beaming at you

“Not as much as she loves him though” Joey adds cheekily, nodding towards the pitch, it seems none of you had noticed the crowds stir for the players appearances during your teasing session

Cedric and Timothy quickly retract their grasp, smiling at one another as you lunge adorably forward to see. Your friends soon join you, all cheering, while you find Fred in the small mass of people, admiring him as he laughs with the others. After a few moments, the team is finished talking, beginning to take flight and get into position. Once there, you watch as Fred’s eyes begin to scan the crowd, heart thumping as his gaze slowly draws closer, skipping a beat when they fall on you, and damn near stopping as he doubles back, face lifting

You see, a few weeks ago you had met Fred to check over your final herbology assignment, which meant a late-night picnic waiting to see if your flower would bloom under the full moon. While chatting, the topic of today's game came up. Of course, now that Hufflepuff were out for the count, he teased you with who you would be supporting, his teasing backfired however when, without missing a beat, said you would be supporting whatever team he was playing in.

After his slight fluster, which, to this day is one of your proudest achievements, conversation returned to normal, you figured he’s forgotten about it until a first year found you this morning holding a small bundle of Gryffindor scarves, one of which had a red ribbon around it with a note for you

You bring your hands up, hugging the scarf as your eyes meet, causing the biggest smile to take over his face. It was times like this you truly believed your crush was requited, and little did you know a certain redhead was thinking the same thing

“Be brave and go for it” Cedric whispers some encouragement

He’s right, you think, Now or never

As you mouth him ‘Good luck’, you add a little extra to it, blowing him a kiss

His eyes widen in a pleasant shock, melting into a mix of joy and pride as he pretends to catch it, winking at you before kissing his balled up fist before returning his gaze to the field just before the starting whistle blows

“Way to go gal” Jess cheers, reaching over to give your arm a soft squeeze

“Aww the grew up so fast don’t they” Timothy wipes an imaginary tear from his eye while Cedric and Jess both match his energy, taking out handkerchiefs and pretending to be forlorn mothers, with Joey doing the same but with an imaginary tissue

You giggle at them, and while you would usually try to come up with some sort of witty answer, you instead break into a smile “He likes me” you say simply, swaying side to side

“If he didn’t, he’d be an idiot love” Cedric gives you a side hug while the rest of your friends’ smile, happy for you “Now let’s what your man kick snake butt”

“Hey-” Joey and Tim begin to object together but then shrug

“Oh, who are we kiddin” Timothy laughs, taking off his green scarf and pulling out a red and gold one as does Joey “Pusey’s an arsehole and I want a chance to be a bridesman at your wedding someday”

“Bridesman?” you giggle, heartwarming at the idea of you and Fred getting married someday

“Yip, Ceds already called man of honour”

The match was a whirlwind of emotion, the kind of game that left everyone on the edge of their seats. Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck at every turn, every goal answered by another, and it was clear to everyone that this match would come down who would catch the snitch first

“Holy shit, this is intense!” James exclaims, practically bouncing in his seat “Merlin, how the hell did you guys watch me and Marls do this back in the day?”

“Jamie…language!” Lily scolds with a giggle, lips quirking up in amusement as she gives Dorcas a please forgive us look

“Oh, don’t worry, Lacey can’t hear a thing thanks to these” Dorcas it waves off, gesturing to Lacey’s adorable, enchanted earmuffs “Watch this” she says leaning over the little girl perched on her lap “You want some ice cream, bubs? What about a unicorn?”

Lacey doesn’t react at all, instead she stays focused on mimicking her other mothers’ gestures and waves towards the pitch

“Those are…” Lily starts but is promptly cut off

“What the hell was that!” Marlene huffs, throwing up her hands as the crowds roar once more, a mix of cheers and groans as the Slytherins risky manoeuvre pays off leading to another goal “Fucking Pusey again!”

“Did you get the earmuffs for the crowd or for Marls?” Remus whispers to Dorcas, who struggles to hold back a smile

“Oi! Gingers! Stay in formation! Godric, what are you doing?!” Marlene shouts again, shaking her head as Fred and George narrowly avoid colliding whilst going for the same bludger

“No comment” Dorcas replies with a grin before planting a kiss on Lacey’s cheek

The match grows increasingly heated after Harry lets the snitch slip through his grasp, igniting a fire under Slytherins asses causing their play to get even more aggressive

“This game is insane!” Cedric grips the railing so tightly his knuckles turn white

“Come on, Freddie!” you yell, unable to stop yourself as he whizzes by

You watch him turn ever so slightly, catching your voice over the roar before he dives back into the action, pulling off a spectacular move that has more than one person flushing

“Offt…your man’s a beast” Timothy mutters as Fred swoops in to deflect a bludger, shirt riding up a little as he does “What? I can admire” his cheeks tint as he sees all of your raised eyebrows

“Don’t worry” you say with a laugh, “He’ll never admit it, but he has a little guy crush on you too”

“Really?”

“Really” you confirm, giggling

“Did you see that?!” Sirius exclaims, pointing towards Fred after he executes a spectacular mid-air spin to block the Bludger aimed at Angelina “Can’t deny the boys got style!”

“Sure does” James agrees but then his expression sinks to a smug one as he adjusts his glasses “Almost as cool as some of the moves we pulled off ay Marls?” he tries to get her attention but is gifted a passive ‘uh huh’ instead

“Oh, please” Remus argues, chuckling “Are we forgetting in our final year when you tried to do a spin like that and your glasses came flying clean off?”

“What?!” Lily, Sirius, and Dorcas all turned to him in unison

“Moony!” James protests before his face slowly sinks as if awaiting his impending doom

“Wait…” Marlene turns slowly, looking menacingly down at James “You’re telling me. I almost lost my final match as captain because of your speckyless ass?”

James hesitates, his ears turning near crimson as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck “…no comment”

With one final push, the final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts into cheers. You and your friends join in, your eyes look over towards Fred, who’s the first to get to Harry, pulling him into the biggest bear hug. The sight makes your heart warm, but your admiration is cut short as your friends practically pick you up, ushering you to move

“What’s happening” you ask confused

“Come on, we gotta get down their sunshine” Timothy insists, shooing you along with Cedric, Jess and Joey “You’ve got a ginger to congratulate”

Over on the other stands your family celebrates. Everyone’s on their feet, except Lacey who is now glued to Marlene’s hip as they cheer

“Yesssss!” James roars, pulling Lily into a celebratory hug…and subsequent snog

“That’s my godson!” Sirius bellows, fist pumping the air before looking to hug James then realises “Oh…well if that’s what we’re doing, come here moons!” he hithers towards Remus, arms outstretched

Remus laughs softly before indulging his husband, pulling him in for a kiss before dramatically dipping him

Meanwhile Marlene and little Lacey remain oblivious to the romance in the air, as she was too busy yelling so hard her voice will be lost come tomorrow “THAT’S MY LIONS!”

Dorcas just chuckles at the scene, pulling out Lilys camera and snapping a shot of them all (A/n: art of this bit in the future?)

As their celebrations calm down, they notice the teams beginning to land and everyone else begin to make their way down to join them

“This takes me back” Remus lets out a small laugh watching the red and gold scarfs fly around

Nostalgia fills the air as the others join him, gazing down

“Man…that used to be us” James remarks, letting out a breathy laugh before glancing over at Marlene

She nods, a happy yet bittersweet smile on her face “Yeah…good times” she reminisces before looking down at Lacey “Times are still pretty good…maybe better” she confesses watching her little cub cheer

Dorcas joins her side, arm wrapping around both Marlene and Lacy as their foreheads meet

“I think we should give them their moment” Lily suggests “We have time to embarrass them later” she giggles

The group hums in agreement. As their stand empties, they begin pointing out things only they are privy to from their vantage point. Like Nevilles and Lunas intertwined hands as they weave through the crowd with Ginny, Lee sprinting to hug George, the Slytherin team sulks, or even Snape begrudgingly handing a couple of gallons to McGonagall. None of them, however, have managed to spot you or your friends yet.

“I hope y/ns alright in the crowds” James says softly next to Lily

“As long as she’s with her friends I have no doubt shell be alright” she hums, giving your fathers arm a squeeze

“Oh, there she is…” Sirius points you out before chuckling to himself “…maybe being your twin ain’t so bad” he jokes, wiggling his glasses

James laughs, wrapping an arm around Sirius as everyone turns their attention back towards you

Down on the pitch, it’s a flurry of red and gold, so you hold back at the edge where it was quieter, encouraging your friends to head into the chaos and enjoy it. Jess, Joey and Timothy promise to be right back, while Cedric spots Cho in the crowd little ways from yourself and joins her, being careful not to drift too far from you

You beam as you take a couple of steps back, watching Harry get lifted up by Ron and Neville. Much like your parents and family above, you want Harry and Fred to have their moment in the spotlight. There would be more than enough time to talk to them after

Unbeknownst to you, one of that duo was already looking for you. Fred’s eyes scan the chaos for your figure, but finds a familiar blonde in the crowd first, and he smiles watching him kiss Cho’s cheek. Cedric feels the eyes on them, looking up and noticing Fred’s searching expression. He smiles, giving a knowing nod towards you, as does Cho who’s clearly been filled in on the situation.

Fred’s eyes follow the direction and there you are, standing apart from the rest, your gaze locked on Harry. Taking a deep breath, he hypes himself up, realising in that moment you aren’t just wearing his scarf, but the jumper he gave you to keep warm a few weeks ago as well. That along with the kiss you blew him earlier, are all the signs he needed to finally make a move

“Oi, Freddie” George calls as he moves away from the rest of the team “Where ya going?” George tries again but to no avail, Fred’s already gone, pushing through the crowd, using his broom to help manage the masses

As he breaks free, you do a double take, and he finds himself smiling as your confused expression melts into hope and joy

“You’re supposed to be over there” you tell him, taking a few steps forward as he closes the gap

“But you’re over here” he replies simply before leaning closer, eyes searching yours for permission

You bite your lip, giving him a nod, to which his own smile grows and his broom is abandoned as his larger hands come up to cradle your cheeks guiding them up towards his lips as they crash into your own. You clutch the front of his sweater, pulling him closer but Fred being the showman he is had other ideas. His hands drop down, snaking around your hips before he dips you back. You squeal at first, then laugh softly with him before your lips reconnect. After that the rest of the world fades away. The cheers and buzz around you becoming a distant hum, neither of you reacting to your friends’ cheers nor the flash of Jess’ camera

Your friends aren’t the only spectators of course…

“Wait…” Marlene points towards you and Fred “…is he about to…oh!” her mouth drops open, gently covering Lacey’s eyes while Dorcas smiles in a happy shock beside her

Remus, Sirius, Lily are next to react, eyes widening, before breaking into smiles. Remus and Sirius take a moment longer, clearly doing the ‘does he deserve her’ math in their heads first

“That’s my girl” Lilys hands come up to face, overjoyed, she had an inkling you were a little love struck from your letters, she just didn’t know with who until now

“He’s alright” Sirius begrudgingly admits while Remus nods in agreement

Their smiles and shock soon melt into anticipation as they all slowly turn towards James, who had been a bit too quiet considering the situation. But when they see him, he is…beaming?

Turns out Lily wasn’t the only one with an incline, in fact, James being the girl dad he was, has known about every crush you’ve ever had, your one on Fred being no different. Safe to say, he was ecstatic

“Yes!” he cheers “Oh the dips a nice touch, very classy” he nods in approval before looking over at the others “What?” he takes in their shocked faces

“Prongs?” Remus eyes him “You realise that’s y/n, right?” he feels the need to check

“Yeah” James shrugs before his mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape, his reply sending them into fits of laughter “I’m supposed to be mad right now, aren’t I?”

Thank you for reading ♡

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prettygirl-gabi · 28 days ago

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My Paigey

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball / WNBA (UConn, Dallas Wings)

Summary: bringing Paige home for Easter, where our (my) five-year-old niece Aria quickly claims Paige as her own(once again)—and refuses to let go.

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @unknowngirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee, @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr, @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @imnotkaizer , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog

Easter back home always meant chaos: pastel dresses, chocolate bunnies, church pews packed tighter than my carry-on suitcase, and Aria—my five-year-old niece who had enough sass and charm to run the whole family if we let her.

This year, though, she had a partner-in-crime.

“Are we almost there?” Paige’s voice curled softly in my ear, her hand resting on my thigh as I drove down the familiar two-lane road to my parents’ house.

“Two more turns,” I said, glancing over with a grin. “Excited?”

She smiled, brushing her long hair behind her ear. “Yeah. Nervous too. Your mom likes me, right?”

“She already follows you on Instagram and sends me screenshots when you post anything remotely cute.”

“That’s almost everything I post.” She smirked, the cocky confidence slipping in—my favorite look on her.

I parked the car and we hadn’t even finished getting our bags out before the screen door slammed open.

“YOU’RE HERE!”

A blur of curls and bunny socks came flying off the porch and slammed into my legs. “Hi Aria—!”

“No! I wanna hug Paigey first!”

I watched, mock-offended, as Aria let go of me like yesterday’s news and threw her tiny arms around Paige’s waist, looking up at her with sparkling brown eyes.

Paige crouched down, giggling. “Hey, Jellybean. Missed you too.”

“Are you staying forever this time?” Aria asked seriously, and I saw my mom chuckle behind the screen door.

Paige glanced at me, then back at her. “I’m here all Easter weekend. That cool?”

Aria nodded, then clutched Paige’s hand like she was some magical Disney princess who’d just stepped off a float.

That set the tone for the rest of the weekend.

Aria insisted on riding to church in Paige’s lap—obviously not allowed—so we compromised. She sat next to Paige, then climbed into her lap halfway through the opening hymn, arms tucked around Paige’s waist like she was shielding her from rogue hymnal books.

I leaned in, whispering, “You good over there, P?”

Paige smiled down at Aria, whose head now rested on her shoulder. “I think I’ve been claimed, for marriage and it’s not to you.”

“I see that.”

Aria looked up. “I told the Easter Bunny to give Paigey the biggest basket.”

Paige laughed quietly. “Wow, thank you. That’s very generous.”

“I didn’t get you chocolate ‘cause Mommy says I’m not allowed sugar before naps. But you can have my yellow jellybeans.”

“Those are your favorites,” Paige said softly.

Aria shrugged like a martyr. “You’re my favorite now.”

I gasped dramatically. “Wow. I’m right here.”

“You still smell like car air-freshener.”

Getting Aria down for her nap was usually an ordeal involving at least two parents, one sippy cup, and a very specific Spotify playlist of ocean waves and Moana ballads.

Today? She snuggled into Paige’s arms on the couch while the adults cleared up post-church snacks and deviled eggs. Her eyes drooped, her thumb popped into her mouth, and Paige just rocked her gently with one arm while sipping sweet tea with the other.

“She’s out,” Paige whispered to me proudly.

“You’re literally a miracle worker.”

“She called me her ‘Paigey’ again.”

“You are her Paigey,” I teased. “Face it. You’re hers now.”

Easter Egg Hunt – Later

As soon as Aria woke up, her first word was, “Paigey?”

Paige appeared in the doorway with her sneakers on and a pink hoodie. “Ready to hunt some eggs?”

Aria lit up. “YES. But only if you help me.”

She refused to let Paige leave her side during the entire backyard Easter egg hunt. Even when she spotted a plastic egg half-hidden behind the tulips, she waited for Paige to walk with her to go get it.

“I got the sparkle egg,” she announced proudly, then looked at Paige. “You get to open it.”

“I feel honored.”

“It’s just jellybeans,” Aria said, then paused. “You want the yellow ones.”

“I do.”

After the hunt, Paige lifted her onto her hip like it was second nature, balancing Aria with one arm while helping my mom clean up candy wrappers with the other. I just stood there watching her like an idiot.

“You’re down bad,” my brother whispered, nudging me.

“She’s got my niece under a spell.”

He smirked. “So do you. Just not the same kind.”

The next morning, Paige and I were saying our see you laters and panicking up so we could head back home, and everything was going smoothly.

However, except I could hear Aria’s dramatic wails before I even zipped up my suitcase.

“NOOOOOOOO.”

I walked out to the living room and found her gripping Paige’s leg like a lifeline, face scrunched, little cheeks tear-streaked.

“She said she has to go back to Netticut,” Aria sniffled. “But she’s mine.”

Paige bent down gently. “I am yours. I just have to pack my stuff that’s at the me and auntie Y/n’s place so I can go play basketball with the big girls, remember?”

“No!” Aria shook her head violently. “I wanna come too. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll pack jellybeans.”

I looked at Paige.

She looked at me.

I nodded. “Screw it. We’re taking her.”

We had set Aria up on the pull-out couch in our guest room, with her favorite pillow from home and a giant stuffed bunny Paige won her at a carnival last summer.

She FaceTimed her mom the first night.

“Hi Mommy. I’m good. Paigey made me waffles. Okay, bye.”

And hung up.

That was the new routine.

FaceTime in the morning: “Hi Mommy, I brushed my teeth! Paigey let me use her sparkly toothpaste! Okay bye.”

FaceTime before bed: “Paigey read me three books. And I had mac and cheese. Okay, night!”

She barely remembered we were supposed to be dropping her back off at home after one weekend.

“Okay, Jellybean” Paige said, lifting Aria into the air while I folded her last pair of UConn sweatpants. “Want to help me put this in the box?”

Aria dropped the shirt in and looked around. “Your room is empty.”

“I know. I’m moving to Dallas soon, remember?”

“Do I get to come to Dallas?”

I laughed. “You’d love Texas. Big parks. Lots of bunnies. Maybe Paigey can find you some yellow jellybeans there too.”

Paige looked at me over Aria’s head. “We’re seriously taking her to Texas, aren’t we?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Aria crawled into one of Paige’s empty storage bins. “I fit in here.”

“You do,” Paige said, grinning. “You ready to move in with Auntie Paige and Y/N?”

“I been ready.”

“She’s gonna forget she has parents,” my sister joked over FaceTime as Aria ran around in the background in Paige’s oversized practice jersey.

“She has parents,” I said. “She just… prefers her Paigey.”

Paige walked by, sipping a smoothie. “Is it weird that I kinda love it?”

My sister smiled. “It’s not weird. It’s a little terrifying, but also adorable. You guys are her favorite people in the world.”

“Paigey is my best friend,” Aria said, running up to the phone.

“And who am I?” I asked, teasing.

“My other best friend. But Paigey’s my favorite-favorite.”

Paige just shot me a smug look.

We ended up flying Aria home two days before Paige left for Dallas.

She cried the whole ride to the airport, clutching Paige’s hand the entire time.

“I’ll come visit you,” Paige whispered into her hair. “And I’ll send you pictures from every new place, okay?”

“You pwomise.”

“Yeah, jellybean. I promise.” She said locking pinkies with Aria.

When we finally got back to the apartment, Paige leaned her head back on the couch and exhaled.

“I miss her already.”

“You’re gonna be the coolest WNBA auntie ever.”

“I’m gonna send her a stuffed armadillo from Texas.”

“She’s gonna sleep with it every night.”

We both looked out the window in silence for a moment.

“She’s gonna grow up so fast,” Paige said softly.

I reached over, lacing my fingers with hers. “We’ll still be her Paigey and Y/N.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Later That Night

I got a text.

From Aria.

(Okay, from my sister’s phone, but still.)

It was a drawing. Paige and I holding hands. Aria in the middle. A rainbow over our heads. And above it, in Aria’s all-caps handwriting:

“MY PAIGEY. MY Y/N. MY FAMILY.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

565 notes · View notes

lay-z · 30 days ago

Text

my lover's got humor

SYNOPSIS: Johnny takes you home to Glasgow to meet his family. Behind the door of his childhood bedroom, you make him see Heaven.

PAIRING: John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!Reader

WARNINGS/INFO: 18+ | Johnny is catholic; established romantic relationship; blasphemy (?); smut; pegging; anilingus; body worship; fluff/aftercare; 6k wc

† BASED ON THIS †

Much thanks to @raspberryandechinacea and my 🦇 anon for putting ideas into my brain. 🤍 Also, Happy Easter (if you celebrate)!

“You’re unbelievable, MacTavish,” you call out over your shoulder, feigning annoyance though a permanent grin seems to be plastered on your lips nowadays.

“Aye, unbelievably handsome!” Johnny counters over the noise of the shower running before he goes back to singing some merry Scottish folksong at the top of his lungs while you exit the stuffy bathroom, wrapped up in a towel and drying your hair with a smaller one.

Even taking a hot shower didn’t stop that familiar soreness seeping into your muscles after that long hike Johnny has taken you on today, showing you (off) around his hometown and taking you to his favourite scenic viewpoints.

You didn’t expect to stay in the home where he grew up in for the remainder of your visit, but Johnny’s parents had insisted; not wanting either of you to spend any money on some expensive hotel or Airbnb when they have more than enough space to host you and their only son—especially considering you’re his girlfriend and the first woman he decided to introduce to the family.

It’s getting serious, even though it hasn’t even been half a year and yet—you could swear that John MacTavish is the one.

The realization of having found a true love—no matter how sappy the thought—leaves a giddy flutter in your stomach, one that spreads and blossoms into something warm and comforting in your chest, and suddenly, your steps seem a little lighter as you skip about in his old childhood bedroom to grab some clean clothes from your suitcase in the corner next to the desk—a desk he used to do his homework at after school, you muse.

Your eyes roam around the room as you slip into a fresh pair of panties and a comfortable sports bra, and they narrow when you catch sight of some pictures pinned to the corkboard above the desk; hidden behind pages ripped from sketchbooks and journals, fading concert tickets and an autograph signed by Biffy Clyro—a mosaic of Johnny’s fondest memories, it seems.

His tune changes to mimic an opera, rough baritone voice echoing off the bathroom walls, and you snort to yourself, shaking your head with a small smile as you approach the corkboard to inspect the pictures.

Some are Polaroid, some simply printed out on paper and heavily pixelated.

There’s one of him with a group of blokes, his Mohawk grown out, red plaited pants hanging low on narrow hips, black nail polish cracked on his ringed fingers—proof of his punk phase, and for a moment you wonder if your teenage self would’ve found him as attractive as your grown self finds him now, until your attention is caught by another picture.

Clearer and photographed properly—now a respectable soldier posing with two comrades around his age, they’re standing at attention, tall and proud, their chests puffed out underneath crisp dress uniforms. Birds without feathers, greenhorns who haven’t seen war yet.

Johnny’s eyes shine with raw determination to prove himself to his peers and superiors alike, to become the best of them all, though nowadays it feels like you’re rather catching the dangerous glint of a predator who knows exactly what he’s capable, which is as exciting as it is frightening sometimes.

As your fingers brush over the shiny picture, you notice another, much older one—Johnny as a teenage altar boy. Dark, shaggy hair curling over a pimpled forehead, wearing one of these typical white robes as he stands in a half-circle with three other boys in matching attire next to a lavish altar inside an ancient looking, pompous church.

You find more pictures of him and his family at church, receiving communion, at Easter mass, at one of his sisters’ weddings, his niece being baptized with him chosen as her chosen Godfather—

And you’re aware that Johnny was raised to be a proper boy and a good, religious man who fears nothing but God’s judgment—and perhaps his ma’s to some extent—but seeing the evidence of his deeply-rooted beliefs right here, pinned to the corkboard, gives you a whole new understanding of who John MacTavish truly is:

Namely, an incredibly loving and devoted man.

“Havin’ fun stalkin’ me?”

Your eyes widen with a surprised gasp; full body flinching when your boyfriend’s warm breath suddenly tickles along the side of your neck. His chuckles triumphantly after his umpteenth successful sneak attack.

“You’re so fucking mean,” you whine while his arms come up to wrap around your waist as he presses himself to your backside, all warm, damp and very much still naked from his shower.

“And you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days and then what? Huh?!” you snap, though your voice is lacking any bite when he nuzzles his face into your nape with another chuckle and a low hum of delight.

His bulky arms squeeze you harder. “I’d simply die, too,” he retorts causally, as if it’s the most reasonable and logical answer he could give. “We die together one day, hen.”

“How romantic,” you laugh humourlessly and pinch his tattooed forearm, though the thought leaves a strange heaviness in your chest and a bittersweet taste in the back of your throat that you force yourself to swallow. “I should punish you one of these days for always scaring me like a twonk.”

He huffs in amusement, completely unbothered. “Mhm, maybe ye should.”

When Johnny starts peppering kisses along the curve of your neck and shoulder, brawny hands now roaming over your bare curves and up, up, up to palm and knead your breasts through the fabric of your sports bra, you get an idea.

Glancing down at your open suitcase resting by your feet, you kiss your teeth in thought.

“What if I’d like to fuck your pretty arse again?”

That makes him tut. His lips hover right behind your earlobe, and you can practically feel his breath hitch as his chest expands against your back. There is a pause before he finds his voice again.

“Ye… brought it?” he asks, peeking over your shoulder, thick brows raised in a mix of surprise and precariousness.

“Uh-huh,” you hum matter-of-factly, already bending down to rummage and pick up the black leather harness with the nude-coloured dildo attached from your suitcase. It isn’t particularly long nor girthy, but the sight of it makes Johnny swallow, his throat clicking so hard, you can hear it.

“I’d love to try it again… if you’re up for it.”

Turning your face to gauge his reaction, you notice the tension in Johnny’s neck; thick tendons flexing as he considers your words, azure eyes flickering in thought as if he’s mentally diffusing a bomb.

“With much more prep this time,” you add, feigning coyness as you turn in his embrace to face him fully, hand reaching out to tilt his chin, so he meets your eyes. Your thumb brushes over dark stubble and the prominent scar below his bottom lip before you lean in conspiratorially, cooing: “I’ll even eat your ass.”

And you can practically watch his pupils dilate at once—a black hole swallowing the sky, a kitten locking in on its prey, bright blue irises making way for onyx pupils while his buff chest expands with a deep inhale.

“Eat me ass, hen? Now? ‘fore supper?” he asks breathlessly, one callous hand snatching your wrist as if he’s afraid you’re simply taking the piss before making a run for it. Oh, but he’d chase you.

Nodding gingerly, you twist your wrist out of his grasp with a soft snicker, pleased with his reaction.

“Yup,” you push at his chest, urging him to back up towards his bed—not as large as yours at home, but you’ve made do with him under worse circumstances, like having a quickie in the public restroom on his base right after you’d picked him up at the airfield. Back then, it’d been the first time he had to leave you for his job, and the reunion was rather passionate.

“It was way too rushed last time, and I’d barely put the tip in before you came all over yourself,” you reminisce, smiling adoringly when his face reddens and his eyes flit to avoid yours as he walks backwards.

“Was drunk an’ ye were wankin’ my cock,” he retorts apologetically. “Couldnae ‘ave stopped it if ah’d tried.”

You snort. “You were yowling like a cat in heat, baby. Begging me for more,” you remark, scratching your fingers through his coarse chest hair. “I fucking loved it.”

“Ach, feck off.” He pouts and his calves hit the frame of the bed with finality. “I wasnae worse than you, when I give it to ye good.” His chest puffs against your hand, but his words don’t manage to sound half as confident as he usually does when he’s blushing so furiously.

He licks his lips like a wolf licks its chaps, peering down at you as if he’s the one in charge right now. “Fine,” he growls, voice lowering to a husk. “How do ye want me?”

You huff a laugh through your nose, eyes crinkling and twinkling as you smile triumphantly.

“Pants off and on your back, MacTavish. Arms above your head.”

While Johnny seems surprised, he obeys without any further complaints, and you take off your bra again, keeping your panties on before slipping the strap-on harness over your wiggling hips; grabbing the lube and delicate cotton robe to leave on the mattress within reach as you join him on the bed between his nicely spread legs.

Last time you’d pegged him, it was in doggy—impersonal and unromantic. A crackpot idea after a date night out together. This time, you’re determined to make it more special.

His flushing chest is rising and falling slowly, head resting on a pillow from where he gazes up at you with defiance and awe—petulant at the way his cock is already semi-hard as it rests on his upper thigh. The thick vein running along the underside of his shaft pulses as it pumps blood steadily, turning his flesh dark and ruddy under sensitive foreskin while a pearl of clear precum beads at the mushroomy tip.

Drinking him in for another moment, this rugged Adonis in front of you, you make a vague gesture with your hand, clicking your tongue in disapproval. “I said arms up, MacTavish.

Johnny glances at your hands and his cock twitches. “Tyin’ me up, too?” You nod, grabbing the white rope. “Wha’? Afraid I’ll flip ye over?” He chortles at his own joke, eyes glinting with mischief.

A raised eyebrow is enough to make him comply and you lean over to tie his hands to the old bedpost, supple tits dangling and nipples tightening right in front of his face. But then your eyes catch the black rosary, gently swaying as the frame moves, wrapped around the upper post and you cannot help it but be taken aback momentarily.

Cheeky as ever, Johnny starts peppering kisses on whatever sliver of skin he can reach; up your sternum, between the valley of your enticing breasts before mouthing at the pillowy mounds, tongue dragging and lapping like a disobedient pup.

Perhaps you should feel guilty or even shame at what you’re about to do under the presence of the holy cross, but you don’t.

Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re not that religious, if at all.

It feels thrilling, knowing that you’re going to fuck this incredibly capable and gorgeous man—that he lets you debauch and unravel him wholly. You can feel your own arousal start to seep between your folds, slick and warm, soaking into your flimsy panties—add his mouth still suckling on your tit, trying to catch your nipple, and your hips twitch shallowly for friction.

His muscles flex and bunch in this stretched position once his wrists are bound with a nice knot; stormy blue doe-eyes blinking up at you, darkened with lust, all trusting—almost fragile. There’s a moment you wonder if anyone else has ever done this to him, aware how much of a whore he’s been before meeting you—a true soldier—and you can feel your throat close with a wave of gnarly jealousy.

You sit back on your haunches, admiring your work briefly, before catching sight of the rosary again while the harness cuts and pinches into your skin.

“Have you ever fucked anyone in this bed?” Your voice comes out more coolly than you wanted, snappy even, and you quickly fix your sudden attitude when his brows furrow into something apologetic.

Johnny kisses his teeth before shaking his head. “Nah, why? Ye jealous, hen?” He has the audacity to look smug as he tries to ease the tension. Always the bloody jokester.

You ponder with your hands on his upper thighs, caressing up and down his hairy legs, then:

“Thou shalt not lie,” you remark nonchalantly, watching the way his fully erect cock begins to leak onto his lower abdomen; pearly precum smearing into the coarse, black happy trail.

“… ‘s what you learned as a pretty altar boy, innit?”

The smugness is wiped off his face at once and he snorts to downplay his bashfulness, though the deepening red on his cheeks tells on him. You don’t really care if he’s lying or not—he’s yours now and that’s all what matters anyway.

“Aye…ah guess so,” he mutters, hips squirming as you reach for the fluffy pillow under his head; folding it before stuffing it under his lower back, lifting his ass to your liking while he lets you.

There’s a pause, but you feel his curious eyes on you, cogs turning in his clever brain. You nudge his knees, and they fall open limply; his feet rustle the sheets as he bends his legs, opening himself up to you obscenely while his cock keeps weeping sticky precum like a broken faucet, yearning to be stimulated.

“Why’r ye askin’?”

You lower yourself flat onto the mattress, going eye-level with his sex and getting a whiff of arousal, clean skin, woodsy body wash and a faint hint of his natural musk. His chest heaves and his breath hitches when you lean in to smother the inside of his muscular left thigh with open-mouthed kisses, nipping at pale skin and laving your flat tongue over the sting.

You glance up at him from between his thighs, and it’s such an innocent sight, your cheek resting against warm skin, that it’s enough to make his balls throb with pleasure.

“Because I am jealous, Johnny.” Your voice is so soft, your words so genuine, it almost feels like you’re giving confession, and Johnny’s throat bobs, mouth drying as he licks his lips.

“Why?”

Because you love him something fierce—but choose not to say it, not yet anyway, and you turn your face, hiding your smile as you bury it into the giving flesh of his upper thigh before sinking your teeth into fat and muscle, latching on with possessive greed. Your cheeks hollow at the created vacuum; tongue flicking over coarse leg hairs, and Johnny hisses when you pull back with a harsh tug; teeth grazing over sore, glistening skin where a mean bruise has formed.

Laying your claim on him like a madwoman while the thought of him being with someone else makes you nauseous if you think about it long enough.

Your lips skim up his thigh and you relish in the way his skin twitches with anticipation and his breath grows ragged while your right hand kneads one plump ass cheek, nails clawing into flexing muscle.

Johnny groans when your nose brushes the apex of his thigh. “Ye’re a terrible tease, luv.”

A wicked grin splits your lips. “Oh, but I’m being so nice to you, Johnny,” you peek up at him as you finally grasp his length, veins throbbing inside your palm as you pump the silky flesh. “Can you recite the Hail Mary for me? I’m a bit rusty when it comes to… prayers ‘n all that.”

Bright, glossy eyes flutter open in disbelief, and he lifts his head to look at you, both shock and curiosity whirring behind his hazy gaze, and then his eyes roll back shark-like, when you pull his foreskin back before dragging your tongue along his shaft.

“Bloody… mother of God,” he groans, head tipping back, tendons flexing in his neck while he bares his throat in surrender like a dog showing its belly. His bound hands ball into fists, unable to grab anything for leverage and his hips jerk desperately, chasing your tongue for more ministrations.

Grabbing his aching cock at the base, you watch some watery beads of his essence run down his shaft, coating and dripping over your curled fingers, and it’s almost mesmerizing as you slowly stroke him from root to tip while you watch his precum smear and slick up his ruddy flesh.

Johnny curses through clenched teeth, back arching and hips canting into your touch.

“Well?” you ask, right eyebrow quirking in a taunt while your hand stills on his cock.

His head stays tipped back, eyes falling shut in resignation while his hands unclench against the bindings. “Fuck,” he drags out under his breath. “Hail Mary ye said?”

There’s a tense pause, and he shifts his hips, heels digging into the mattress as he brackets you in. The rosary keeps swaying above him.

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed a-art–” He falters when you spit on his tip and start stroking again. “Start over.”

His throat bobs, he clears his throat, and you continue to pump his length languidly, when he obeys:

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus–f-fuck–!”

Your fist stays curled around the thick base of his shaft, his soft foreskin pulled taut to expose his angry-red cockhead while your tongue stops lapping at it, lips ceasing their suckling, when he stutters once more, words dissolving into a guttural groan.

“Again.”

It only gets worse when you descend down his parted thighs after another torturous moment; peppering open-mouthed, wet kisses on his balls, then teasing his smooth taint with your tongue before finally reaching his puckered hole, already drenched by a mix of his arousal and your saliva dripping down his ass crack when you start licking him, a pleased hum bubbling up in your throat while you continue to stroke his throbbing prick.

He’s breathing so raggedy and heavy, one might think he just ran a marathon in full tactical gear; beads of sweat gathering above his thick brows before trickling down his grimacing face, right over the pulsing vein in his temple.

“Ngh–fuck, fuck–Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God–Mother of G–fuck, I–I cannae–! Please!”

His cock twitches in your unrelenting grasp, balls drawing up tight again as you continue to edge him towards his release only to stop whenever he messes up his prayer again.

“Ah cannae do it,” Johnny whines hoarsely before he utters your name like a plea.

He squirms against his bindings and whines when you stop jerking him off once more, tries his best to keep his legs spread wide open while you eat his ass with scandalous fervour; humming and moaning as you devour him, and bucks his hips when you pull your mouth away from his tight hole.

“Come on, baby,” you coo, peeking up at him with lust hazy doe-eyes as you smack your glistening, puffy lips obscenely. “You can finish that prayer for me, right? One fucking time and I’ll let you cum. Just be a good boy for me now.”

His buff chest heaves as he nods weakly, eyes squeezing shut while his head tips back against the mattress with a dull thud; his hands ball into pale, tight fists and you notice the reddened and bruising skin around his wrists in a stark contrast against the cotton rope.

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou–“ His breath hitches sharply when you start licking his asshole again, circling the tight rim with the tip of your warm tongue before pushing inside with a low moan, all while stroking his weeping cock simultaneously.

A shuddering exhale wrecks through his whole body, but Johnny grits his teeth and manages to continue breathlessly:

“–thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of–of death! OH FUCK!”

The slick sound of your hand pumping his cock grows louder as you quicken your pace; wrist twisting and jerking teasingly; stroking him from base to tip relentlessly now that he managed to finish his little prayer.

When you lift your head again, scrambling onto your knees and bracing your free hand on his knee to watch him succumb to the pleasure, he’s nearly chanting while his back arches off the mattress, gorgeous eyes screwed shut.

“Pleasepleaseplease, fuck, please–!”

It’s a beautiful sight when Johnny finally comes undone all because of your mercy on him. His handsome face is twisted in pleasure, brows furrowed, teeth sunken into his pouty bottom lip while a deep flush covers his cheeks, his neck, his whole chest beneath a layer of coarse hair.

His breath stutters harshly when he shoots his load all over himself; thick, white ropes of cum splattering over his taut stomach and flexing pecs, some barely missing your face as you hover, milking his twitching cock for all its worth as he tries to muffle his whorish moans by twisting his face and biting into his own biceps.

“Jesus Christ, honey–look at you,” you giggle, eyes sparkling with delight as you keep stimulating his softening prick. “You have no idea how fucking pretty you look, coming so hard for me.”

Johnny keeps his blushing face hidden into the crook of his biceps as he rasps out: “Aye… ye’re a right fuckin’ menace, love.”

His abs are still clenching with panting breaths, his cock giving feeble twitches in your palm, and he hisses through clenched teeth, when you finally let go, and he goes lax on the mattress.

However, before his seed can cool and dry up on his skin, your eyes glint with another idea, and you swiftly drag your right palm through the mess on his torso before spreading it over your strap generously.

“Nah, nah–” Johnny protests meekly, eyes bugging as he catches on to what you’re doing.

“Shhh, ’s gonna be fine,” you shush, rubbing your hands up and down his trembling thighs soothingly so he keeps them open for you. He tugs on the rope again. “I’ll make you feel even better, okay? You’re being such a good pup for me. I just need a little more. I did make you feel good now, didn’t I?”

“Take the fuckin’ rope off,” Johnny huffs, nostrils flaring as he glares at you with fretfulness, raw-bitten lips pulled into his trademark pout before he relents and gets back into position.

“Wanna touch ye when ye fuck me with yer wee plastic knob.”

You snort, smiling gleefully as you lean over to untie him from the bedpost.

“It’s silicone.”

He clucks his tongue. “Ach, bloody fake, tha’s wha’ i’is.”

Once the cotton rope falls away and his hands come free, he’s on you with unrestrained greed—callous palms running up and down your flanks, squeezing your hips and mapping out the curve of your ass before groping the plump muscle so hard that he’s giving you a wedgie, causing you to yip at the sting.

“Ye’re so fuckin’ soft, hen. C’mere,” he groans as he tries to pull you on top of him before you push a hand against his sternum, keeping yourself from succumbing to his advances that easily.

“Nah–ah–ah.” You cluck your tongue in chide, shaking your head. “I am the Captain now.”

Johnny snorts at the corny movie quote and then groans as his head drops back against the pillow with a soft huff, hands resting on his stomach, though you can tell he’s itching to just grab you. “Fuckin’ tease ye are.”

You’re still snickering as you reach for the lube and pop the lid open to squeeze a generous dollop onto your fingertips before reaching down to prod at his spit-slicked asshole.

He gasps when you spread the slabby, cool fluid between his cheeks, drawing leisure circles around his hole with your fingertips before prodding at the tight rim. “You gotta relax for me, baby. C’mon now–”

His thigh muscles tremble and jump under his dewy skin, and you react by soothing your free hand over his leg, up his thigh and hip, squeezing his waist as you push your middle finger into his ass.

“Fuck!” His back arches at the intrusion, hands snatching the bedsheets and fisting them tightly, and you’re quick to hush him with a sly smile. “It’s a lot, hm? But you’re being so, so good for me–so fucking sexy, Johnny.”

Johnny exhales a ragged breath, blinking slowly as he relaxes for you—thick thighs parting some more while you prep his hole, adding your ring finger with a lewd squelch that leaves him whining as you begin to fingerfuck him agonizingly slow.

Eventually, you’re pleased by how much you’ve prepped him—judging by the steady flow of precum running down his shaft and the way his hole flutters around your fingers whenever you brush and stimulate his prostate.

He keens when you retrieve your fingers, and you smile when you guide the tip of your fake cock to his hole. The rosary is still swaying above him gently,

“Breathe, baby,” you coo as you push your hips forward, penetrating him slowly.

And you pull out half an inch, only to push forward again—steadily and carefully working the strap into his tight hole while your boyfriend takes short, shuddering breaths. “Lookit you—taking me so well, huh. Feels good?”

He’s a right mess already; hiding behind his arm thrown over his face, though you can clearly see the flush of arousal spreading over his chest and up his neck again. With his blood simmering and sensitive nerves frayed, his fat cock twitches meekly against his belly as you fuck him slowly.

You pinch his hairy thigh, and he grunts, peeking to glare at you. “I asked you a question, Sergeant,” you repeat. “Feels good?”

His jaw clenches as he nods curtly, and you almost laugh at how pissy he looks. You grab his hips as best as you can and bottom out completely, hips pressing flush against the back of his thighs, enticing a rough yelp that dissolves into a pathetic half-moan, half-whine.

You smirk wickedly. “There we go.”

His chest heaves, hips squirming—away from your fake cock or trying to get you deeper, you can’t quite tell.

“More?” You squeeze and massage his taut flesh gently, rocking your hips experimentally as you observe his every miniscule reaction. The crimson flush has reached his stubbled cheeks by now and your teeth itch to sink into the bit of fat covering the cheekbone. “Then use your words, sweetheart.”

Then, Johnny sighs your name like a prayer that he hopes can salvage him, causing your heart to thud and your cunt to clench and drool into your panties, and it’s all permission you need.

His cock throbs and jumps as you begin to fuck him with slow, deep grinds of your hips while your hands keep caressing him reverently—worshipping his warrior’s body; skimming over faded scars and scattered beauty marks while his skin breaks out in gooseflesh.

And you’re only a few thrusts in, when his hips buck and his face twists into something akin to a pained snarl while he utters curses under his breath—though it doesn’t make you falter.

You know that face well—it makes your stomach flutter and your lips purse in amusement.

“Aw, you’re gonna cum again, baby? Already?”

Not needing nor waiting for an answer, you dig your fingers into his hips, nails leaving angry red crescent moons on his skin, as you shift on your knees for a better stance before you start rocking your hips more fervently, driving the strap faster and deeper into his sopping ass.

The bed starts creaking comically; the obscene smack of your skin against his plump ass fills the room, along with your panting breaths and his borderline whorish moans.

Sweat trickles down the nape of your neck as you keep gripping and holding him in place on the mattress while the leather harness cuts into your skin, rubbing against the apex of your thighs and irritating your sensitive flesh—yet the pleasure you feel at seeing Johnny enjoying himself and being oh so vulnerable with you, leaves your mouth dry with want and your heart full of love and affection.

“F-Fuck,” he grunts, gripping his shaft with a shaky hand and glossy baby blue eyes while the other curls around one post of the headboard. He tries to jerk himself, but you are swift to swat his hand away, earning a pathetic whimper.

“No.”

He whines at your refusal, his head drops back to bare his throat like a submissive mutt, and your thrusts falter momentarily as you reach for a pair of discarded boxers on the dishevelled mattress before bracing one hand next to his head, hips stilling while his cock throbs.

“K-Keep movin’,” he croaks, swallowing dryly as he gazes up at you, tears brimming at his lash line. “Please.”

Your heart stutters along with your breath. He’s so bloody gorgeous.

“Open up,” you command, lifting the fabric to his mouth—and his eyes nearly roll back as you shove the black fabric into his mouth, gagging him and muffling another loud, throaty moan. “Good boy.”

After giving him a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, you don’t hold back anymore.

Your body moves on autopilot as you fuck Johnny’s ass, relishing and thriving in the way his face twists in pleasure, all this manly bulk squirming and writhing under your care while he grasps at the headboard, short nails scratching at the splintered old white paint covering the wood.

And your own breath stutters with a ragged moan when his cry of ecstasy if muffled by the cloth in his mouth as his body goes rigid, eyes screwing shut, hairy chest heaving.

“Come on, baby–” you’re panting in between harsh snaps of your hips, “look at me.”

Johnny does as you ask—the brightest colour of the sky peeking out behind heavy eyelids, hazy and unfocused before they slowly roll back into his skull, pulse throbbing in his bared throat in tandem with his cock as his muscles tense once more—

Before his second orgasm wrecks through him with violent shudders. The sight takes your own breath away.

You’re still rocking your hips languidly as you grasp his spilling cock to pump him in the rhythm of your thrusts, causing him to groan lowly in his chest; keening and blabbering around his makeshift gag as he bucks into your stroking hand while his cum runs down your knuckles.

Eventually, you gentle your thrusts but stay buried inside his ass; hips flush to his thighs, warm and tacky skin on skin as he continues to tremble and quake under your ministrations.

“Beautiful,” you catch yourself uttering as you bring your messy hand up to your lips to drag your tongue over your cum-stained digits.

Johnny’s long lashes flutter open and he groans lowly at the view of you lapping up his release from your fingers before he pulls the spit-soaked from his mouth with a huff.

“Steamin’ fuckin’ Jesus.”

Your shiny lips split into a pleased grin as you lean closer to put your fingers up to his lips, and he manages to look vexed for a few second before his mask crumbles, and he sucks your messy fingers into his mouth with a delighted hum while he keeps his hazy gaze on you.

When you finally do pull out, Johnny sighs deeply; long limbs spreading out on the mattress limply while you clean up the strap before taking it off and then taking care of the mess your boyfriend made on himself.

“Mhm, turnin’ me into a proper pillow princess, ye are.” He chuckles roughly as he curls one hand around your wrist to tuck you closer. “C’mon, lay with me, aye? Am feelin’ mighty sensible right now, luv, an’ it’s all yer bloody fault.”

There’s a raw kind of honest behind his words, despite the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, and you can’t help but feel somewhat overwhelmed, too.

He pulls you into his side, wraps you up in his arms, and you can still feel a slight tremble in his body as he holds you and buries his nose into your hair to take a deep breath.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I? You liked it?” You caress his chest and feel his steady heartbeat under your palm which helps soothing your own frayed nerves.

However, the pause drags on longer than you expected, and for a moment, you can feel a sudden spike of anxiety in your chest before Johnny grabs your chin to tilt your face up to meet his eyes.

His gaze is half-lidded, tired yet sated, and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he drinks you in. You want to open your mouth again to say something, anything to not let all of this turn awkward now, but he beats you to it: “Aye, ah loved it.”

Your chest deflates as you exhale through your nose while he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, crow’s feet appearing in the corner of his eyes as he smiles genuinely.

“I love ye,” he utters then, and it takes your breath away all over again, and you swallow thickly as tears immediately brim in your eyes, turning your vision blurry as you sniffle out his name like a plea, shifting in his embrace.

But he tightens his grip on you reflexively, keeping you close as he snickers softly.

“Aw, c’mon, hen,” he coos and smooches your forehead as you bury your face into his neck. “Say it back, yeah?” His arms tighten around you some more, clinging to you as your tears drip onto his shoulder. “Please,” he adds quietly, vulnerably.

You inhale a shuddering breath before you finally manage to croak out: “I love you.”

His heartrate accelerates; you can feel it in the way his pulse is fluttering in his neck, and before you know it, you’re pushed flat onto your back with a precise shove while he hovers above you with a toothy grin. “Knew it.”

You roll your eyes, still sniffling softly, a soft smile is gracing your lips. “You’re terrible.”

“I’m terrible?!” He snorts, highly amused. “Ye’re the reason ah won’t be able to sit at the bloody dinner table the next two days, m’love.” And he leans in to brush his nose against yours. “Say it again, aye? One more time f’me, hen.”

You purse your lips, tempted to let him work for it, though the smitten look on his face makes you cave. “I love you, John MacTavish.”

He sucks in a sharp breath at your declaration before he dives in to capture your lips in a bruising, all-consuming kiss while your arms snake around his neck, unable to do more but whimper as you part your lips to let him in.

“Love ye, too,” he mutters, swallowing each sweet noise of yours as he nudges your thighs apart with his bad knee. “M’gonna show ye how much.”

#my lover's got humor #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #call of duty #cod #soap x you #soap mactavish #cod smut #soap smut #cod x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny mactavish x you

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 7 days ago

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──── EVEN WHEN IT'S HARD... ↳ one shot // also part of the no doubt series !

✎ᝰ .ᐟ aka the one where even when it's hard...sim jaeyun will always choose you.

── sim jaeyun x f!reader ౨ৎ wc. 1.1k ⌗ angst angst ANGST, reader is a lil self-sabotaging, jakey gets v v sad :(, but then comfort, reassurance, & fluff<3

↳ IMPORTANT NOTE .ᐟ ── this is part of my no doubt series ─ a sequel series of short drabbles that take place after the events of my fic no doubt, and show jake & reader's relationship throughout their first year together (& how jake wins her trust & love back hehe) ── THIS CAN BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT, however, there will be some easter eggs if you've read no doubt before!

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── hello pls don't be mad at me for this one,,,decided to throw another angsty one into the mix because once again─i really wanna make this series realistic and i totally see yn still getting into her own head every now & then. and it's totally normal & realistic for couples to have lil moments of miscommunication and i feel like this is how jake would handle it :') bc at the end of the day, he will always choose yn...

You don’t even know how you got here.

It probably started small.

Something barely noticeable—something as small as a mere thought in the back of your head. A flicker of doubt—the kind that’s been fading, slowly but surely, over time.

But still lingers.

Like a crack in glass you don’t notice until the whole thing shatters.

Maybe it was a comment.

A look.

Maybe the restaurant you recommended but it ended up being mediocre.

The too-long silence during the drive back home from dinner.

And now here you are.

Standing in the middle of your living room, your bag still half-slung off your shoulder, while Jake stands from across the space—watching you with his arms limp at his side, a pout on his lips, confused and concerned, like he doesn’t know what’s happening.

And you don’t even remember what you said.

Only the way Jake’s face fell.

The way his shoulders sank immediately, like something slipped through his fingers and he didn’t even realize he was holding it.

The way he blinked, slow and stunned—like he felt the crack before he could make sense of it.

“I just think—” you sigh, sharper than you mean to be, your arms folding across yourself, “I don’t know—maybe you shouldn’t assume things about how I feel.”

Jake’s brows knit together, his voice low but steady, “I’m not assuming anything, Y/N. I’m asking. You won’t talk to me, and I’m—I just…I’m trying to figure out where your head’s at.”

You turn away.

Try to blink it back—the tightness rising in your chest. The frustration.

You don’t even know why you’re upset.

At him? At yourself?

“Well maybe my head’s a mess right now,” you say, a bubble rising to your throat. “And I don’t need you trying to fix it.”

There’s a pause.

A shift in the air.

Jake lets out a soft breath. Barely audible.

But you hear it.

And you see it, too—the subtle way his expression drops.

And god, it hurts.

“Okay.” He nods slowly, his voice suddenly quieter, barely above a whisper. “So what do you need, then?”

You hesitate.

Because that’s just the thing. You don’t know.

Because it’s not him. Never him.

It’s not the quiet car ride home. Or the under-cooked steak at the restaurant. Or the stupid thing he said about maybe meeting his parents next month.

It’s you.

It’s everything else.

The pressure. The doubt. The sinking feeling in your chest that you don’t deserve something this good. Something as good as him.

“I think…” you start, your eyes meeting his, swallowing hard. “I think I need space.”

And it’s like you ripped the floor out from right under him.

You watch the words hit him.

Watch how he stumbles without even moving.

His eyes flick to yours like he misheard. His breath catches like you knocked the wind out of him.

His fingers tremble at his sides, helpless and twitching, like he doesn’t know what to hold on to anymore.

He exhales a shaky breath and—

“No.”

You blink.

“What?”

“I’m not giving you space.” His voice cracks. Barely holding it together. “Not like this. Not when I don’t even know what I did—”

“You didn’t do anything, Jake—”

“Then I’m staying.”

His voice breaks again. And when you look at him again—his eyes are glassy. His voice trembles in a way that shatters your heart more than you’ve ever known before.

And before you know it—

Jake crosses the living room and closes the distance between you two—like he’s trying to reach the part of you that’s slipping through his fingers.

And when he’s right in front of you, he stops.

Just looks at you.

Like you’re the only thing he sees. Like he’s begging you to see him too.

“Let me stay,” his voice unsteady, more desperate now. “Please.”

Your throat closes.

“You’re shutting me out again and I can feel it and I know I’m not perfect, but—God, Y/N—I love you.”

A breath. A blink. A beat.

“I’m trying. I’m here,” Jake continues, his eyes pleading. Breaking. “Please don’t push me away when I’m trying to stay.”

You stare at him.

And you hate it.

You hate how much he means it.

How sincere he sounds—how shattered he looks.

How his hands are clenched at his sides like he’s holding himself back from reaching for you, like he’s not sure he can.

And you hate that you’re the one making him feel that way.

Like love has limits.

Like maybe even he isn’t allowed to cross the invisible line you drew without even realizing it.

Because deep down—

You’re terrified.

Terrified that one day he’ll just say okay and walk out.

That he’ll stop trying. Stop fighting.

That your worst fear will come true: that you are too much. That you’re not worth all this effort.

“Jake…I’m scared,” you whisper—and it breaks.

The dam. The silence. You.

“I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth this,” you choke, your own vision blurring. “That I’m just—too much. Or not enough. Or both.”

Jake’s face crumbles.

Completely.

“Y/N.”

You shake your head, blinking fast—it’s all spilling now, messy and unfiltered and real.

“You could have anyone. You could find someone easier. Someone who doesn’t blow up over nothing or pull away every time it gets hard or—”

“Don’t.”

The sudden edge in his voice stops you—not sharp, but urgent.

Urgent, wrecked, and aching.

“Don’t you dare try to write me out of this story when I already know how it ends. Like I haven’t already chosen you.”

He takes a step forward.

“I don’t want easy. I don’t want someone else. I want you.”

Another step.

“Even when it’s messy. Even when you’re mad. Even when it’s hard.”

And before you can stop him, Jake’s hands cup your face—gentle, steady—like you’re something fragile and priceless at the same time.

“This is still you,” he murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against your own. “And I still love you.”

Your lip quivers.

He brushes his thumb along your cheek—and only then do you realize you’re crying.

A broken breath escapes your lips.

“…I’m sorry,” you choke out, the tears falling out faster now—completely open and raw.

Jake lets out a small, breathy, almost sad laugh.

“Me too.”

And god.

You think that might’ve been the moment you fell completely, absolutely, irreversibly in love with him.

In a way you can’t describe.

In a way that sits in your chest and says this is it—even if you don’t know how to say it out loud yet.

So for now—

“Please stay.”

Jake smiles. It’s small. But so full of relief.

“Always, pretty.”

And he does.

Jake stays through the silence. Through the ache.

Through the heavy nights and the mornings when it’s better.

Because real love doesn’t run.

It reaches. And it stays.

Even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.

<< past || no doubt m. list || next >>

tag list! (open ! // bolded couldn't be added!)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

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yelenasbraid · 23 days ago

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JOE BURROW — baby fever

summary — she spends the day with Joe’s family for Easter. While she’s bonding with his nieces and nephews, Joe’s want for a family with her grows

warnings — fem!reader, fluff, Joe is sooooo down bad

requested by — anon! based off of this ask

note — I don’t know in depth things about Joe’s family. All I know is he has two older brothers and the name’s of his parents. So some of this will be creative liberty!

p.s. this fic was inspired by the cover of ‘do i wanna know’ by hozier :)

tags — @starsinthesky5 @joeyfranchise @willowsnook @hannahjessica113 @irishmanwhore @wickedfun9 @joeyburrrow @ebsmind @softburrow @joecoolburrow @kazsbrckkers @sportyphile @hotburreaux @iosivb9 (comment/send an ask if you wanna be added!)

HE WAS ENTRANCED. His eyes watch her from the back patio. She has his niece on her hip, the 3 year old blonde girl babbling away about something. She was listening intently, nodding her head as she stepped down onto another layer of the patio. His nephew clung to her free hand, trying not to trip over his feet.

But he’s not paying attention to his niece and nephew. He’s paying attention to her.

It’s natural. Her arm is secured around his niece’s waist, her little legs wrapped around Y/N’s hips. Her steps are careful, they’re calculated; she doesn’t want to jostle the little blonde girl on her hip.

Joe imagined a life where it was his little girl on her hip, where it was his little boy holding her other hand. He imagined a life where he slid a ring on her finger, where he met her at the alter and he kissed her senseless in front of everyone. He imagined their graves side by side, ‘loved each other in life and in death’ engraved on the marble.

She was the only one he wanted that life with.

“Honey?” Robin’s voice broke Joe out of his trance. Her steady hand on his arm, pulling him back to reality. She could see the lovesick look he gave his girlfriend, the way he eyed how she played with his niece and nephew.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Joe flicked his eyes to the group of people he was originally supposed to be conversing with. His mother just chuckled, shaking her head. Her boy was in love, and his eyes held every ounce of adoration he held for the woman a ways from them.

“Nothing,” Robin smiled, patting his arm. Robin knew better than to point out the vulnerable nature of love in Joe, even when he was so obvious with how he felt. Y/N was his love, the breath in his lungs. She was the heart that beat in his chest.

Joe stole a glance back at her. She was sitting on the concrete, his niece, Summer, sitting happily in her lap. Her tiny hands held an Easter Egg from the hunt they had an hour or so earlier. His nephew, Lucas, leaned his entire body weight on her shoulders.

“Come on,” he heard Lucas whine, “one more piece of chocolate. You’ll be my favorite aunt,”

“I’m already your favorite aunt,” she chirped back to the 6 year old. Lucas groaned, flopping dramatically onto her shoulders. She laughed, keeping Summer steady in her lap. The warmth of the two children around her remind her of a life she not yet lived.

One where she had children of her own. One where Joe was her husband, where he would let his daughter suck on his pinky finger while she fussed, one where he’d throw a football with his son.

She met eyes with Joe, who smiled softly. His heart skipped a beat, his skin warming under the sun of her gaze. She was beautiful, her skin glowing under the late afternoon sun. He admired her, his heart clenching in his chest. How could he be so lucky?

She whispered something in Summer’s ear, and she stood from Y/N’s lap. The little blonde girl, with curls for days, ran towards her uncle.

“Unca Joe!” she squealed as she latched onto his leg. Joe handed his water to his dad while he swung the little girl into his arms.

“You causin’ trouble?” he asked her, holding her securely in his arms.

“No,” Summer huffed, playing with the collar of his shirt, “Aunty Y/N told me to come and bully you,”

“No she didn’t,” Joe gasped, looking over at his girlfriend for dramatic effect. His heart swelled; the playful banter between them carried through a small child now.

“Yes she did! She’s a bully,” Summer giggled.

“I am not,” Y/N finally made her way over, tickling little Summer’s sides. The blonde girl giggled and squirmed in Joe’s hold, trying to flee from the wriggling fingers of her aunt. Summer finally wiggled out of Joe’s arms, running away down the yard. Her brother followed, and the two of them happened to get into an argument. Siblings.

Joe wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned closer, his warmth and the softness of his embrace added to the tenderness of their afternoon. He looked down at her with a fondness in his eyes, his heart aching inside of his chest.

“What?” she asked, catching him. She always caught him. It was hard not to feel his stare when he was looking at her like she held the world. Because she did.

“Nothing,” he shrugged, kissing the top of her head. Suddenly he was nervous. His stomach fluttered with butterflies, his heart skipped a beat. He stood there with his girl tucked into his side. The woman who would be the mother of his children, the woman who would bear burdens she couldn’t bear alone.

The woman who was meant to be his wife.

“Liar,” she hummed, smirking up at him. She always knew when he was lost in thought. He had a concentration face; his forehead creased as his lips tightened ever so slightly. Sometimes the tongue made an appearance, but that was almost always during a game.

“I swear you can read minds,” Joe chuckled softly, reaching up and running his fingers through your hair. The pads of his fingers dug softly into her scalp, gently tugging at her strands.

“I can,” she hummed, melting under the weight of his fingers in her hair, “especially yours. You’re not so hard to read ya know,”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. He was so fucking in love with her it killed him.

“I’m just so in love with you,” he hummed, his words said with a tenderness that was only meant for her. His eyes rounded, sparkling with his sincerity. She felt her heart skip a beat, her cheeks flushing at his words.

“Well,” she moved to stand in front of him, keeping her arms around his waist, “I’m in love with you, Joe Burrow,”

Joe leaned his forehead against hers. His breath tickled her face, his blue eyes full with emotions. His love for her filled his chest, it made his skin tingle. He was so damn lucky.

He titled his head and slotted his lips against hers. He cupped her cheeks as he did so, soft sparks cascading down his spine. He didn’t care that his family was there, or that a picture could be snapped. She was his girl, his beautiful girl. She returned his kiss with equal tenderness, the softness of his lips against hers sending soft electrical currents down her spine.

“Ew! Unca Joe and Aunty Y/N are kissing!” Summer exclaimed, making the two culprits laugh. She pulled away, looking back at Summer.

“You’re gonna kiss a boy too, someday,”

“That’s gross. No,” Summer stomped off. Joe scoffed, tucking Y/N back into his side.

“She’s so dramatic,” Joe commented, a light chuckle escaping his lips.

“It’s those Burrow genes,” She teased him, pinching his side. Joe tightened his lips at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m not dramatic,” Joe argued. She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek.

“You’re dramatic enough for the both of us,” She hummed. Joe didn’t argue, but he held her close to him. He watched as his nephew and niece played, as other family members wandered around and laughed. His girl was tucked into his side. He was home. That’s all he wanted.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals

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vanteguccir · 29 days ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤEASTER SPECIAL: PAW PRINTS * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　Where Matt and Y/N spend the early hours of Easter creating baby powder bunny prints on the living room floor and biting into carrots, just to make sure their daughter has the best Easter morning.

FEATURING　dad!Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Happy easter to everyone who commemorates it 🤍✨️

1:07 AM - Sunday, April 20th

The house was finally quiet.

Well... mostly.

Y/N slowly tiptoed down the stairs, one hand on the wall to steady herself in the dim, cozy glow of the hallway nightlight. Her sock-covered feet barely made a sound on the steps, the wood creaking only the tiniest bit under her weight.

She took it slow - real slow - because she’d just spent the last thirty minutes doing the most exhausting, soul-sucking, patience-testing thing known to parents, putting a toddler to sleep.

And not just any toddler. Their toddler. Three years old. Full of personality. With curls that never stay tamed and a voice that could rival a megaphone at bedtime.

But she was finally asleep.

After four stories, two songs, a stuffed bunny hunt, and one mini meltdown about how she "NEEDED her sparkly Easter socks or the bunny would skip their house".

Y/N was drained.

But as she reached the last step, her tired eyes blinked, adjusting to the soft light of the living room, and what she saw instantly erased all of her exhaustion.

There, standing on the hardwood floor, was Matt.

Messy brown curls flopping down into his eyes. His favorite red sweater - that she was 99% sure had been balled up on the laundry chair an hour ago - now pulled over his tall frame, wrinkled and crooked at the collar like he’d thrown it on in the dark. His black sweatpants hung low on his hips, one leg slightly tucked into his sock without him even noticing.

He looked so sleepy.

Like, painfully sleepy. Eyes heavy. Shoulders low. But he was moving around with purpose, his hands busy with a bottle of their daughter’s baby powder, a half-eaten carrot, and the softest little bunny ear headband looped around his wrist.

Y/N squinted.

"Matt?" She whispered, barely above a breath.

He jumped a little and spun around with big blue eyes like he’d been caught breaking into his own house.

"Shit- you scared me, angel." He whispered back, his voice all raspy and deep and tired.

"What... what are you doing?" She asked, tiptoeing closer, trying not to laugh.

Matt looked down at his hands, then at the floor in front of him. There was a perfect trail of tiny powdery bunny prints starting at the kitchen door, leading all the way toward the couch. Some were tilted like the bunny had hopped, some overlapped like it got excited. He had obviously made them with his own feet and hands, dipped in powder.

"I’m... making evidence." He shrugged.

Y/N tilted her head.

"Evidence?"

"That the bunny was here." Matt said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, holding up the carrot like a prop. "She’s gonna freak out when she sees it. You think it looks real?"

Y/N blinked at the mess on the floor. The powdery mess. His hands were literally coated in white. So were his feet. His sweater had smudges, too. His hair was sticking up in four directions. And yet, she felt her heart melt right into the floor.

"You stayed up for this?"

Matt nodded slowly.

"Yeah. I mean... she’s been talking about it all week. I told her the Easter Bunny leaves footprints. You should’ve seen her face when I said that. I couldn’t-" He yawned mid-sentence. "I couldn’t let her wake up and not find anything."

Y/N smiled, her eyes softening. She walked over and gently grabbed the carrot from his hand, inspecting the bite marks in it.

"Did you really nibble it?"

Matt looked mildly offended.

"Duh. You think the bunny would leave a full carrot behind?"

She snorted, covering her mouth to avoid waking their daughter.

"You’re such a dork."

"You married this dork." He mumbled sleepily, stepping in baby powder again and crouching down to press another bunny paw onto the floor.

"I did." She whispered, crouching beside him. "And I’d do it again. Especially if I knew you’d look this cute at 1am while preparing our house for Easter morning."

He glanced at her sideways.

"You think this is cute?"

Y/N reached up and gently brushed some powder off his cheek, smiling with the little scrunch his nose instantly created.

"Absolutely. You look like the world's most exhausted Easter Bunny."

Matt leaned in closer, nose almost brushing hers.

"Might be. Definitely the hottest one, though."

She giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back on her heels.

"Okay, lemmd help. Gimme the powder."

It didn't take any second thought from Matt. The next minute, they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor, whispering quietly about their day, dipping their hands and feet into the baby powder and making more tracks. Matt would press one paw down, and Y/N would do the next.

At one point, Matt reached over and smeared powder across her forearm, and she gasped like she'd always do when he threw snowballs at her on winter mornings.

"You wanna start a war?" She whispered playfully.

"Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time." He grinned.

They were careful. Matching the spacing, tilting the paws slightly, even leaving a few little white "fur" smudges on the baseboards like the bunny had rubbed against them.

They placed her Easter basket beside the couch, overflowing with chocolate, candy, plushies, and one little sparkly egg with a note tucked inside that read:

"Thanks for the socks. I love them.

Hoppy Easter!

- Mr. Bunny"

By the time they were done, Matt had powder on his neck, Y/N’s black leggings were speckled white, and the kitchen smelled like baby lotion. They stood in the middle of their living room at 1:38am, looking down at the chaos they created like two kids who just got away with something.

"She’s gonna scream when she sees this." Y/N whispered.

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"She definitely will."

Y/N looked up at him, and he looked down at her with the most soft eyes, a sleepy smile taking over him pink lips.

Matt reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You did good today." He murmured.

"So did you."

He pressed a kiss to her lips, heavy eyelashes brushing against her cheekbone.

"Let’s go to bed before she wakes up at 6am and demands chocolate for breakfast."

Y/N groaned, already dreading it.

"Please, no. I need, like, five more hours of sleep, or I’ll turn into a ficking villain bunny."

"Too late." Matt grinned, guiding her toward the stairs. "You already married me. That makes you the main character and the villain."

"Shut up, Easter Bunny."

They walked up the stairs holding hands, powdery footprints behind them, and carrot crumbs on the floor.

7:12 AM - Easter Morning

"Mommy!"

"Daddy!!"

"MOMMY DADDY COME LOOK!!"

Y/N jolted awake first, instinctively reaching across the bed to Matt, who was already halfway sitting up, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Was that her?" He mumbled, voice thick and scratchy with sleep, fingernails scratching his beard covered jaw.

Y/N blinked.

"She’s... shouting?"

Before either of them could fully process it, their daughter burst through the bedroom door with a slam, her tiny pink pajama set covered in glittery bunnies and one sock halfway off her foot. Her curls were a disaster. Her face was glowing.

"HE CAME!" She screamed, full volume, absolutely breathless.

Matt sat up straighter.

"Who came?!"

"THE BUNNY!" She shrieked, bouncing in place like her little body couldn’t physically contain the excitement. "THE EASTER BUNNY! HE WAS HERE! HE WAS HERE, DADDY!"

Y/N pressed a hand to her chest, trying not to laugh, feeling her heart melt with the genuine smile on her daughter's face.

"What?? Baby, what do you mean?"

"There’s FOOTPRINTS!!" She gasped, eyes so wide they barely blinked. "And a carrot with BITES! And a note! And he said thank you for my socks! HE KNEW I gave him the socks! He actually KNEW!"

Matt dramatically gasped.

"No way."

"Yes way! Come see! Come see right now! I didn’t even open my basket yet ‘cause I needed you to see the proof first!" She yelled like it was an emergency.

Matt threw the blanket off with fake panic.

"Okay, okay, okay! We’re coming!"

Y/N was already getting out of bed, tying her soft beige robe around her waist, trying not to laugh as their daughter literally sprinted out of the room again. Her little feet slapped the floor with speed that didn’t match her size.

"IT’S REAL! I TOLD YOU IT’S REAL! I’M GONNA DIE!!"

Matt looked at Y/N, eyes half-closed, hair a mess.

"She said she’s gonna die."

Y/N bit her lip, grinning.

"You made her whole universe."

Matt walked to her with gentle steps and kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her soft skin.

"We made it."

They followed the giggles and gasps downstairs.

And there she was. Standing in the middle of the living room. Hands in the air. Eyes sparkling. One finger pointing at the powdery footprints and the messy trail leading to the half-nibbled carrot beside the basket.

"LOOK!" She shouted, turning to face them with her arms out like she had just discovered treasure. "LOOK WHAT HE DID! HE HOPPED RIGHT THROUGH OUR HOUSE! AND THEN HE ATE THE CARROT! DADDY, HE ATE IT!!"

Matt gasped again and dropped to his knees beside the scene, his legs cracking with the movement.

"This is some serious bunny activity."

"I know!!" She yelled, practically vibrating. "He even LET IT ON THE WALLS! That means he was REAL FLUFFY!"

Y/N knelt beside them both, brushing hair out of her daughter’s face and smiling so big her cheeks hurt.

"And he left you something too, huh?"

Her daughter’s eyes widened all over again, and she spun toward the basket.

"MY BASKET!!"

She tore into it like her life depended on it, candy flying, plushies squeaked, glitter eggs cracked open. But the loudest gasp came when she saw the note inside the shiny sparkly egg.

She clutched it like it was a signed autograph.

"He WROTE TO ME! With his paw-hands! Bunnies don’t even write, but he DID!"

Matt dramatically leaned in.

"He must’ve learned just for you."

Her eyes filled with wonder.

And then, with her curls bouncing and her whole body shaking with joy, she launched herself at Matt, wrapping her arms around his neck so tight he almost tipped backward.

"Thank you, daddy." She whispered.

Matt blinked.

"What?"

She looked up at him with a shy, soft smile.

"I know you helped him create this big, big plan. You're his bestest friend, right?"

Y/N's heart squeezed.

Matt pulled her in close and kissed the top of her head.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Bunnies never tell."

Y/N scooted close and wrapped her arms around both of them.

"We need to call uncle Nick and uncle Chris!"

627 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 11 months ago

Text

give it to me

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, toxic, fluff

summary; From the outside looking in your life is perfect. It's the perfect ones who are the most fucked up and have the most to lose, or so you thought.

dark/content warnings; murder, kidnapping, talk of abuse, talk of solicitation, illusion to sexual abuse, wonwoo is not a nice guy for a large part of this fic -- hitman!wonwoo, kidnapper!wonwoo, ransom negotiations, corrupt business world, seedy gang/mob underworld, crying (pain and mental pain), depression, fucked up family dynamics, yn has parents/parent death mentioned, police, dead bodies, blood, guns, lying, eating/drinking -- i am sure there is more, this fic can be a lot. please consider the warnings before you read.

smut warnings; unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral (m receiving), begging, crying (pleasure), olfactophilia/mysophilia (panty sniffing), grinding, petnames

w/c; 22k and some change (980~ bonus on patreon only)

a/n; thank you to my @junkissed for proofreading this for me! i know i am on a dark fic kick. thank you all for going along on this ride with me -- perhaps you might catch some easter eggs 🤫 -- i really hope you enjoy this one.

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“Stop pouting.”

You throw a contemptuous glare towards Wonwoo from the rearview mirror as he sits in the passenger's seat. He was a handsome man with strong features that made you both nervous and furious. He had been assigned to your personal security by your father in the past week after some changes and discoveries with your previous bodyguard had come to light.

While you didn’t care who watched over you, it was important to your father, who was by his daughter’s side. You had no assumptions that it was because he loved you; no, it was more that you were the heiress of his multimillionaire dollar stock trading company and his only living child.

“I don’t want to go.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances down at his phone to see a text message from your father, only to let out a sigh. He knew you didn’t want to go; you had been telling him that all day. You were a brat. You were every bit the part of Mr. Y/L/N’s daughter and he could tell that you lived a very charmed life. Rarely were you told no, and the times you were, you threw a fit.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t. Today isn’t about you, Y/N. It’s about your father, but you are well aware of that. We’ve talked about it enough times today. Stop pretending that you don’t like attention.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean your head back as Wonwoo talks down to you. You hated him. He was worse than any other bodyguard that your father had put in his place. He was strict and he degraded you. Your last bodyguard was a sweet man who would let you sneak out and get laid, but Wonwoo was an asshole who triple locked your door.

“Fuck you. You don’t know me. Stop acting like you do. God, I can’t wait for you to get fired.”

Smirking, Wonwoo glances at you in the rear view mirror, letting his eyes move over your pretty features as the car comes to a stop outside of the venue. The flashes of cameras already make him feel anxious, but he has started to get used to it. They weren’t looking at him, they were looking at you.

“That’s sweet, Princess. I don’t want you to like me. They want you to like them.” Wonwoo gestures his head towards the window, drawing your eyes to where people are falling over one another to try to catch a glimpse of you. “Your fans and daddy are waiting.”

Reaching for your door, you pull on the handle, instantly feeling frustration take hold of you when it doesn’t budge. Glancing back at you, Wonwoo grins before opening his door and moving to yours. Opening it from the outside with ease, the man looks down at you with a smug expression.

You hear your name yelled by several people and lights flash in your eyes before Wonwoo steps in front of the photographers, allowing you to step out of the vehicle. At least he was good for something. Meeting his eyes, you narrow yours for a moment before putting on a pretty, fake smile, letting him know he could move and allow your picture to be taken.

Wonwoo stays on your left, his eyes watchful as he moves them from you to the crowd and back. He was good at what he did. He could feel the weight of his gun on his side, but he knew he wouldn’t need it, not even if someone did try something. His hands were more than enough to take care of them, but his gaze was deterrent enough. There was something dangerous, almost feral, about Wonwoo’s eyes that told anyone and everyone not to fuck with him, including you.

Hearing your name, your father sighs and looks towards the double doors. Appearances were everything for him and you looked like you were worth every single penny he had spent on you. While you left much to be desired on the business front, at least he could count on you to look stunning on the front page of a magazine along with his last name. You could make his company's stocks climb by 3% with a smile on a good day, and today was a great day or at least your father wanted it to be.

“Mm, Y/N, darling.”

You keep your fake smile on your face, letting your father’s lips brush the corner of your lips before he takes your arm into his. His grip is a little too tight for your comfort, but at events like this, it always is. You hated business dinners. You despised talking to the business partners and their “handsome” heirs. None of them were attractive, no matter how many times your father told you to tell them they were.

“I want you to meet two of my oldest friends, Hyong Songmin and Hong Jinyoung.”

Clenching your jaw, you glance at your father, knowing where this is going, before he squeezes your forearm to the point of pain and your eyes move to the two older businessmen.

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes watching you put on a face for the old men. He could tell you didn’t want to be there anymore than he did. Glancing at his watch, he sighs under his breath and purses his lips, listening to the conversations around him while keeping up the appearance of guarding you and your father.

Reaching out to take your hand from your father, Hyong Songmin is just a bit faster than Hong Jinyoung. Your brow lifts out of curiosity at the two men and their obvious competitive nature before you laugh a bit awkwardly, feeling the older man’s lips brush against the back of your knuckles.

“No, dear… the pleasure is mine. I wish my son Kihyun was here today, but at least I’m not the only one with a missing son.”

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung looks you over, almost appraising you, before he meets your father’s eyes and tilts his head like he’s considering a deal.

“He’s not wrong. Joshua was, I quote, “just too busy with numbers” to attend today. I’m certain he would be ashamed to have missed the opportunity to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

You had met Hyong Kihyun before and you had heard some rumblings about Joshua Hong, but you knew what this was really about. This was about your father, his company, and mergers.

“What a shame... perhaps we can set up another time for my beautiful daughter to meet with either of your dashing sons in the near future. Dinner?”

Gritting your teeth, you look in your father’s direction, meeting his eyes, only to feel his hand wrap back around your arm.

“I’m so busy, Father. I’m sure that both of their sons are as well, no matter how large the dowry is.”

Your father scoffs into a laugh upon hearing the two men laugh at your "joke.” Luckily for him, they had found it amusing, but he had not. Digging his fingers into your arm, your father’s eyes burn holes into your face before he looks towards Wonwoo, clearing his throat to get his attention.

“My apologies, gentleman. My daughter has her mother’s tongue. Mr. Kim?”

Lifting his brows, Wonwoo smirks at the name before he meets your father’s eyes, taking your arm when offered to him as your breath quickens. You watch as he leans closer to the bodyguard, whispering something into his ear, only for the man to meet your eyes and nod.

“Now, where were we? Ah yes, planning dinners for our children. Mine needs a meal and a good night's rest today, but seeing as how your sons aren’t here…”

You feel Wonwoo guide you towards the back of the banquet hall as your father turns his eyes away from you, distracting his guests. He was good at that, diverting attention from people and things he was ashamed of. That was the reason your mother wasn’t around anymore and no one ever asked why. That was why you were always leaving early if you spoke out of turn, like you did tonight.

Tugging at Wonwoo’s grip, you feel his hand tighten around your wrist, but he never holds you to the degree that your father does. It never hurts, he always knows when to stop and that you will follow him anyway.

“Leave it alone, Y/N. You didn’t want to be there anyway.”

Learning against the wall, you sigh as Wonwoo looks out into the alleyway, waiting for the car to come into view. Glancing back at you, he lifts his brows, almost feeling sympathy for you, but what was there to feel sorry for? You weren’t the type of person that Wonwoo felt anything for.

Pulling at your elbow, Wonwoo kicks the door to the noisy venue, leaning down to glance in the vehicle and nod at the driver. You hear him mutter a few words before you are ushered into the back, like always. You were used to this song and dance. Anytime you would embarrass your father, it didn’t matter who your bodyguard was, you were always sent back to your apartment and called later with a firm reminder of who you were and who you belonged to.

So when the car turns in the opposite direction of your apartment, you furrow your brows and look towards the front seat, seeing the wide eyes of your driver. You didn’t know the man’s name; it had never seemed important until this moment. Today he looked scared and you weren’t sure why until he muttered something towards your bodyguard and his voice got louder, feeling the barrel of the gun against his side.

“I don’t—okay!”

Tears instantly threaten to well up in your eyes at the sight in front of you. Has your driver done something wrong? Was he a bad man? Has Wonwoo noticed something you hadn’t? Swallowing hard, you reach for your cellphone to do something, anything, when you hear Wonwoo’s tongue click in disapproval.

“Give it to me. Now, Y/N. I won’t fucking ask again.”

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you see that dangerous look making your brows furrow. Seeing his outstretched hand, you whine and shake your head, realizing the situation was the opposite of what you had quickly deduced. Your driver had done nothing wrong. Wonwoo was doing this. You barely knew Wonwoo. He had been assigned to you for less than a week.

“Wonwoo…”

“Now!”

The tears spill on your cheeks when Wonwoo yells at you. You put your cellphone into his hand and sit back in your seat before glancing towards both doors. Your mind goes back to when you arrived at the venue and how Wonwoo had to open your door from the outside.

“Pull into this parking garage. Fuckin—why are you two making me repeat myself? Just do it!”

You close your eyes, hearing your driver’s head hit the side of his door when Wonwoo forces the man’s head hard against it. The man lets out a painful sound, along with affirming words, as you feel the car take a sudden left and any light from outside is taken by the oppressive walls of the concrete parking garage.

The moment the car is in park, you look around for a way to get out, but the sound of Wonwoo’s gun going off pulls your attention back towards him quickly. Meeting his eyes, your hands over your ears, you watch him speak, but you just shake your head until he grits his teeth and forces your hand from your head.

“Fucking listen to me, Y/N. Be a good girl and I won’t have to hurt you.”

Your eyes shift to the body of your driver slumped over the steering wheel and the panic rushes back through you, causing Wonwoo to jerk your arm once again.

“You are worth more to everyone without a bullet in you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. Do you understand me?”

Pleading words fall from your lips just above a whisper as Wonwoo lets go of your wrist, leaning over the man in the driver’s seat. You hadn’t noticed the gloves that Wonwoo always had on until now. It took your brain being shocked into reality for things to sink in. Your door is locked from the outside. The gloves on Wonwoo’s hands. Was that his real name? Kim Wonwoo?

Pushing the body with his knee, Wonwoo grunts and watches the body fall with a thud next to the car. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. The parking garage was in a secluded part of town and it would take at least a few hours, if not a day for someone to stumble upon it.

Looking into the rearview mirror, Wonwoo lifts his eyebrows at you as you tremble visibly. He knew you were scared. That was something you were feeling for once, and that made sense. All the times over the past week that he has seen you be unreasonably annoyed over simple shit made this even easier.

“Let’s go for a drive, Princess.”

Rubbing at the mascara drying on your fingers, you feel the car come to a stop. Wonwoo sighs, his brows furrowing as he looks around at the empty parking garage and finally back at you. You hadn’t spoken since he had started driving, but he wasn’t complaining. He could hear you crying, your pathetic little whimpering as he drove, but that had been the most of it. You had been resigned to what was happening. You had been “a good girl,” and Wonwoo could give you a bit of credit for that.

“Home sweet home, Y/N.”

Looking up, you furrow your brows at the sight around you. This parking garage had clearly not been used in years, probably closer to a decade. The building itself is probably in similar, if not worse, condition. There was nothing about this that you wanted to call home, but as Wonwoo opened his door and moved to yours, opening it, the gun pointed in your direction, and you knew you didn’t really have much of a say.

“Wh–why are you doing this? Did my father not pay you enough?”

Scoffing, Wonwoo sighs, leaning back against the door as he waits impatiently for you to gather the train of your tight dress and slide towards him.

“I thought you were supposed to be smart. Isn’t that what all those degrees on your office wall are for?”

Your stomach twists at Wonwoo’s words as your high heels unsteadily meet the uneven concrete of the garage. Reaching out with his free hand, Wonwoo tugs you upward and keeps your body against his, letting the barrel of his gun rest against your abdomen as he walks with you.

“This is ridiculous, Wonwoo. You’re throwing your life away, and for what? A paycheck—”

Scoffing at your words, Wonwoo cuts you off with a look as he kicks open a heavy door to the stairwell. Obviously, the elevator wouldn’t work in a building like this. You whine at the idea of the stairs in your heels, your eyes searching Wonwoo’s as he shakes his head and digs the gun into your side.

“You’re the one who’s ridiculous. You look ridiculous and you are acting pathetic. Walk!” Raising his voice, Wonwoo feels your body jerk in his arms before you do as he says and move forward up the stairs. “This isn’t about some stupid ass security job. This is about your daddy, and him paying for you. I was hired to take you, Princess.”

You feel your knees buckle. Wonwoo’s fingers dig into your arm, lifting you back up as he rolls his eyes at your reaction. He figures you are playing the role of the grief stricken daughter, but in reality, you are fighting the urge between laughing and crying. Your father? Paying for you? Who was stupid enough to think that he would?

Using his shoulder, Wonwoo pushes open the door to one of the many rooms before letting you stumble inside in front of him. You look around, your brows furrowing in confusion and you feel some disgust at the sight in front of you. You weren’t sure what you had expected. The rest of the building hadn’t given you the impression that any of the apartments would be in good condition, so seeing it firsthand shouldn’t be surprising.

“Welcome home.”

You give Wonwoo a look of contempt, making him laugh as he gestures towards a dusty couch with his gun. You didn’t want to sit on the couch. The first thought in your head was that the dress you were wearing cost thousands of dollars and that cleaning it would cost hundreds, but the look in Wonwoo’s eyes made you take a step in its direction.

“He won’t pay you any money for me. If—listen, Wonwoo... if you let me go, I can pay you the money myself.”

Sighing, Wonwoo lifts his free hand to his brows, rubbing hard as he watches you. He could see you hesitating to sit down. The way you were brushing at the couch with your fingers only to rub them together as if you were in pain. When you finally sit down, you look stiff and struggle to not let any of your skin touch the dusty material under you.

“Doubt this is about what you can offer, sweetheart. Get comfortable, you are going to be here for a while. So stop acting like you are going to get the plague from some dust.”

Wrinkling your nose to the smell of rot, you force your eyes open. You hope that everything that has happened has been a bad dream. Instead, you open them to find things were worse than you remembered. Whining, you push against the leather couch, searching for a way out, only to find Wonwoo leaning against the door, his eyes on you.

“How was your nap?”

It was interesting to see you like this, out of your element. Wonwoo had grown accustomed to seeing you prim and proper. Your outfits are always in perfect condition—not a hair out of place. Now you are starting to show signs of wear. You had grime on your cheek from falling asleep on the couch, which you hated so much. At least he had been nice enough to let you sleep somewhere soft.

Rubbing at your cheek, you turn your eyes away from Wonwoo as you shake your head. You were stiff and uncomfortable. You had only fallen asleep out of exhaustion, not because you wanted to or because you were comfortable. The last thing you wanted to do was fall asleep around him.

“I want to go home.”

Nodding, Wonwoo runs his fingers along his palm. He knew what you wanted. You had told him many times before finally passing out for a few hours. He had slept off and on, but he was used to living like this. He was a light sleeper and with one movement from you, Wonwoo knew he would be on his feet, ready to put you back where you belonged.

“And you know the answer to that. So stop fucking telling me. Tell me something different.”

Biting at your lips, you blink back your tears, glancing over at Wonwoo again. He was so cruel. You try to imagine a world before today when you actually found him attractive and enjoyed pushing his buttons. The idea of it was terrifying now. You had no idea who you had been teasing. You had enjoyed pushing your bodyguards to their limits until you met Wonwoo.

“You are such an asshole.”

Wonwoo smirks, his thumbnail tracing the longest line in his palm as he looks over your face, even from a distance. Even with all that grime on your face, you were still beautiful. It was a pity that you were such a bratty bitch.

“Thanks, I try. You’ve made it easy with your stunning personality.”

Scoffing, you rub your arms, the chill in the air causing chill bumps to spread along your skin. Wonwoo watches you shiver, his brows furrowing, before he rolls his eyes and moves to his feet with a loud sigh. You watch as he moves to a duffle bag you hadn’t noticed before. Rummaging through it, he tosses a protein bar on your lap, followed by a bottle of water.

“Eat, we are gonna be here awhile.”

Your stomach growls at the idea of food. It had been hours since you had eaten anything substantial. Anytime before you would attend an event, you had a habit of skipping a meal in an attempt to make your dress fit better. Now you were mentally cursing yourself for the tradition.

“I’m fine.”

Shrugging, Wonwoo takes out his own bottle of water, tossing the cap down on the floor before tipping the bottle back on his lips. His eyes never leave your face as he swallows the water in large gulps until, finally, the last of the water is gone.

“Suit yourself. I’m not going to force you to eat or drink, Y/N. But trust me, starving yourself won’t make you a martyr. No one cares that much.”

Wonwoo’s words bite at your self esteem. You look down, your stomach turning as tears run down your cheeks. You knew he was right. Your father probably hadn’t realized you were gone yet, not if the person who had wanted you kidnapped hadn’t sent him a ransom note. Even if they had, your father would keep it quiet until he couldn’t.

The dinner had ended a few hours ago and your father had already started nursing his headache in typical fashion, a glass of brandy in his hand from the moment he stepped into his house. You had disappointed him. He wished that just once you could attend a business function with him, put a smile on your face, and keep your mouth shut.

Luckily for him, both men he had hoped would be interested in his proposition had left him with some hope for the future. You hadn’t completely fucked up everything he had been working for. Out of the two men, your father hoped that Hong Jinyoung’s son would be the one who took the bait. While both of the companies were worth something, Hong Investments was like a beacon, and your father was swimming towards the dollar signs.

Settling into his chair, your father furrows his brows at his phone and the lack of messages from you. You knew he was upset with you. He had sent you away with the new bodyguard, what was his name again, Kim? Sighing, the older man presses down on your name and puts his phone to his cheek, leaning back to take a sip of his alcohol and listening to the phone ring until your voicemail picks up.

Cursing under his breath, your father tries your number again with the same result before scowling at your picture on his phone. You were ignoring him? You were a prideful brat, but you weren’t a complete idiot. You knew that he would cut off your credit cards if you made him mad enough; no, something else was going on.

Just as he was about to press down on your name for the third time, an unknown number appeared on his phone. Furrowing his brows, your father starts to wonder if perhaps something happened to your phone—this was you calling from a new number. That didn’t make sense. Sighing into his words, he answers the phone with annoyance and confusion evident in his tone.

“Hello?”

The man on the other side of the phone smirked at hearing how annoyed your father seemed. He had never met Mr. Y/L/N, but he had heard stories and he knew the man’s pockets were deep.

“Mr. Y/L/N, good evening.”

Scoffing, thinking that it’s a solicitor or even a collector of some kind, your father starts to press the end button before he hears the man speak again.

“Missing something—or someone, I should say?”

There were many things that your father didn’t enjoy and being pulled along and fucked with was one of them. Sitting up, he narrows his eyes, glancing down into his glass of brandy before taking a sip and letting out a breath between his teeth before answering the man.

“Like what? Who is this?”

A grin stretches on the other man’s face as he leans back in his chair, glancing down at the picture of you on his desk. Using the tip of a pen, he pushes the picture around aimlessly before letting out an unamused laugh at the old man’s questions.

“Don’t play senile. I know you are wondering where Y/N is. As for my name, just call me Mr. Park.”

There were plenty of Mr. Park’s in Seoul. Rolling his eyes, your father clenches his hand around the brandy glass before sitting it down hard on the table in front of him.

“Fine, Mr. Park, where is my daughter?”

Now they were getting somewhere. This is how money is made. Park Bonhwa grins at your picture once again, pulling it back towards him. You were beautiful and even in the candid picture he had of you, he could tell that you were expensive. You were worth every penny he had been offered to set up this job.

“With a friend... where she will stay, until we can come to an agreement.”

At those words, a smile pulls at your father’s lips. The idea of you being kidnapped is ridiculous; you had a bodyguard—handpicked by him—with you at all times. Shaking his head, he laughs, causing Park Bonhwa’s grin to slip and his jaw to tighten.

“You think this is some kind of fuckin’ joke, old man? I’ll have him cut off her fingers one by one and put them on your door. Don’t you ever laugh at me again.”

It was a joke and your father wasn’t intimidated. He would prefer to have you back in one piece, but how much this Mr. Park wanted for you was going to determine that. This wasn’t the first time that your father had been threatened and he wouldn’t turn over and show his belly to just anyone.

“Apologies; please continue with your script. How much are you wanting for my daughter?”

Furrowing his brows, Bonhwa finds himself a bit flustered and confused by your father’s tone and his choice of words. Was he not concerned about your safety or the condition you might be returned in? Shaking his head, he pushes forward with his task as he licks his lips and pushes your photo away.

“10 billion won, and I can promise she will be returned to you safe—”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

After being cut off by your father, Bonhwa grits his teeth and sits up in his chair. He hadn’t played the middle man for many kidnappings, but they had never been unsuccessful. Yours shouldn’t be either. The plan seemed flawless; you were going to die either way.

“Excuse me?”

Standing up, your father shakes his head and looks at the phone as if the man is standing in front of him and he could shake some sense into him. He was looking at the phone as if he could teach the man how to do business better, as if the man wasn’t telling him he wanted money for his daughter’s life.

“She’s not worth that amount of money. Where did you pull that number from? Your ass?”

Picking at the granola bar, you could feel Wonwoo’s eyes on you when his cellphone had gone off in his pocket. Yours had gone off a few times earlier, but he had just glanced at it and finally turned it off before putting it back in his pocket. You figured it was your father and by the look on Wonwoo’s face, he wasn’t in the mood for your phone or his.

“What?”

Watching him, you furrow your brows as Wonwoo lifts his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Maybe it was his boss? Did he have one? He had said he was hired to take you, so there was someone in charge of this. If so, why did Wonwoo look so annoyed by the man?

“Negotiations? So what the fuck—no? What? No, I fuckin—you know what?”

The conversation didn’t seem to be going well. If it were about your father, you could only imagine how poorly it could be. You had tried to warn Wonwoo and you had tried to make this easier on yourself and him, and yet here you sat on a filthy couch in the middle of nowhere.

Park Bonhwa’s voice was like tin foil on a grater to Wonwoo. The man was an idiot, but he had lined Wonwoo’s pockets for this job. However, this job was starting to look like more of a pain in the ass than it had to be.

“Don’t you tell me anything, Jeon! You’re my help. I hired you. He’s gonna agree; he just needs the motivation. Take a picture of the little bitch after you rough her up.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo glances over at you, watching you glance down quickly. You were afraid of him or at least afraid of the situation. He didn’t want to rough you up; he didn’t hit women. Sure, he had taken you and threatened you, but he had never hit you. He had never hit a woman in his life. Killed them? That was left up for debate, if they deserved it.

“Yeah, whatever…”

Hanging up, Wonwoo drops his hand to his side as he tilts his head. You already looked like shit. Maybe he could figure out another way to do this.

“Y/N, get up. Come over here.”

You swallow hard and shake your head. You weren’t sure what he had been told to do and you didn’t want to make any of it easy for him. Has your father really said no? Was he going to kill you now? Make you walk to him so he could put a bullet in your head? Deviantly, you grab at the couch under you, letting the granola bar slip off your lap and into the floor as Wonwoo watches his frustration rise.

“Get the fuck up! I am giving you the chance to do this yourself. Don’t make me fucking move you myself.”

When you still don’t move, sitting firmly on the couch, Wonwoo lets out a frustrated groan that almost sounds like a growl from his throat. Your eyes meet his and he sees the fear mixed with anger in them when his hand wraps around your bicep so that he can lift you from the couch by force. The pain reminds you of your father’s grip on you, and you feel tears collecting on your eyes, but you will them back, not wanting to give Wonwoo the satisfaction of seeing them if this is the last thing he sees of you.

“Walk! Goddammit, why are you so fucking stubborn? I wouldn’t have to be so damn mean to you if you’d cooperate with me. You realize that? Here! No, I said here!”

A whimper slips from your lips as you stumble in your heels, feeling your ankle roll when Wonwoo pushes you against the wall. You feel the peeling paint against your skin and you smell the mold radiating off the drywall as you squirm in his grasp until finally Wonwoo’s anger gets the best of him. A hand slams into the wall next to your head, mere centimeters from your face, making you stop moving.

You stare at Wonwoo’s hand, letting your eyes move to his wrist and forearm, where his muscles are tense from the amount of pressure he used. You squeeze your eyes shut, imagining how bad it would have hurt if he had chosen to hit you instead of the wall.

Wonwoo swallows hard, feeling you go pliant in his grasp. While he was used to his life, it didn’t make moments like this enjoyable. You had been a bitch to him and others around you, but it didn’t make scaring you to this point seem fun. Taking a breath, Wonwoo watches the tears run down your cheeks as he pushes away his compassion and rubs his hand against the dirty wall before grabbing your face and hearing you sob, begging him to stop.

“Shut up and listen to me.”

Tilting his head, Wonwoo narrows his eyes, almost eyeing your face like a canvas as he uses the dirt on his fingers as paint while he talks.

“You’re fucked, Y/N. Daddy isn’t willing to hand over the money like they thought he would, so they want... wanted me to fuck you up.”

Moving his hand back to the wall, Wonwoo uses your tears on his fingers to collect more of the dirt, moving his hand back to you and wrapping his hand around your throat. You tense, your hand moving to grab his forearm, nails digging into his skin, causing Wonwoo to hiss before he tightens his grasp around your throat only for a moment and loosens it.

“I’m doing this to make it look like I beat you. I don’t beat women.” Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo watches confusion walk over your face before he clarifies. “Doesn’t mean I won’t kill you. One bullet to the back of your head and you are done, Princess.”

He was a complicated and confusing man. You could appreciate that he wasn’t going to actually beat you like he was told to, but he was still scaring you. He was still reminding you that he could and would kill you easily. Reaching up, you start to wipe your tears but Wonwoo grabs your wrist and shakes his head before tilting it.

“Let them run through the dirt... Makes you look more pathetic, plus... there’s something red in the dirt and your tears make it look like you are bleeding.”

Wonwoo looks through the pictures he sent to Bonhwa. They were too convincing, but he owed that to how terrified you were while he had taken them. Glancing over to where you lay on the couch, Wonwoo sighs, seeing the dirt still covering your face.

It had been over 16 hours since he had taken you, and you were still in that dress. It was filthy and ripped. Your shoes were now off because your ankle had started to swell after you had rolled it. Now Wonwoo couldn’t help the way his eyes scanned the floor of the dilapidated apartment, seeing rusty nails, glass, and pieces of metal that could all end up in your feet.

He shouldn’t care. After the pictures had been sent to Bonhwa, he received another call. Your father still wasn’t sending money and it didn’t matter anyway; Bonhwa’s contract wanted a bullet in your skull. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to bankrupt your father. The man wanted to make sure every point of income, including children, was cut off from him.

Sliding his duffle bag closer to him, Wonwoo digs through his supplies, counting up his rations and looks over what else he had the forethought to pack. He was used to disappearing for months, even years at a time, so this wasn’t a big deal for him. It was having you here and the gnawing bit of compassion biting at the back of his head that was causing him issues.

Taking out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes, Wonwoo sighs and narrows his eyes at you. He didn’t care about you. You were a dead woman walking, so why should it matter that the sight of you in that stupid fucking evening dress was making him feel sick? You had been beautiful in it before the dinner. He could admit that to himself. You were a beautiful woman. The dress had probably been custom made for you and right now it represented where you had pretended to come from. All the filth covering it represented what was really underneath all the glitz and glamor.

Moving to drop the clothes next to you, Wonwoo watches you slowly wake up. You didn’t have much energy. You weren’t eating or drinking enough, so your body was choosing exhaustion instead. Pointing at the clothes, Wonwoo lifts his brows and waits for you to give them some recognition, but instead you sit up and wrap your arms around you, chill bumps spreading over your skin.

“There’s no running water here... but at least you can change into something cleaner. We can get that shit off of your face.”

Your brows furrow deeply at Wonwoo’s words. You wanted to fight him, but you just nodded and started to put your feet down when he reached out to stop you.

“I’ll turn my back; you slip on the shoes first and then the clothes. There’s nowhere you can go, understand?”

You were too tired to run. Looking down at the floor, you see why he had stopped you, the glass crunching under his feet as he moved a few steps away from you. Turning his back, Wonwoo glances over his shoulder to watch you put on his shoes before he looks back towards the wall when you start to unzip your dress under your arm.

“Why are you doing this? He’s not gonna pay, Wonwoo. I’m tired…”

It had only been 16 hours and you were already giving up. Wonwoo shouldn’t be annoyed that you were giving up; that should be a good thing in theory, but instead it was frustrating. Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo peeks over his shoulder to see you dropping your dress into the floor, your body covered in matching lace as you reach for his t-shirt.

“Suck it up. What would you rather happen? I just killed you now.”

Pulling the shirt over your head, you scoff, finding it amusing how his words don’t really scare you this time. They almost seem like a joke. Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes briefly, you watch him look away quickly, clearing his throat. You know you should be upset that he was looking at you in a vulnerable state, but instead you slip one foot out of the borrowed shoes and start pulling on the sweatpants.

“Why not? Seems like a waste of everyone's time.”

Taken aback by your answer, Wonwoo hears you sigh, the couch settling as you sit down behind him. Turning around to face you, he looks at you in his clothes before his eyes move to the dirt he had painted on your face and throat. You watch as Wonwoo takes a bottle of water from his bag along with a towel, pouring some on to it as he kneels in front of you.

“Think so low of yourself all of a sudden, Princess? What happened to all that confidence you had yesterday?”

Wonwoo lifts his hand with the towel to wipe at your skin but at first you wince in fear. Meeting his eyes, he gives you a look of reassurance before trying again and this time you lean slightly into his touch. It takes some pressure for Wonwoo to get the dirt off of your skin; his eyes follow his hand even as he pours more water on to new sections of the towel.

“I’m just a good liar.”

That Wonwoo could tell wasn’t a lie. He knew you were a liar. He had caught you in plenty of lies in the short time he had known you, so perhaps he wouldn’t call you a good liar, but a liar nonetheless. Wonwoo’s brows knit together in thought as he lifts his free hand up to hold your chin as he rubs as gently as possible at your neck to clean his handprint from it, feeling you swallow under his touch.

“So you gonna be truthful with me now that you are so ready to die? Or are you ready and willing to die because you hate your life so much?”

It was none of Wonwoo’s business to answer either of those questions, but you didn’t mind that he had asked them. The only issue was that they brought tears to your eyes. Wonwoo moves your face from side to side, his eyes searching for dirt to clear from your face, before he meets your eyes and sees more tears threatening to spill over the rims.

“You know I hate my life. You saw it firsthand.”

Tossing the towel to the side, Wonwoo stands and puts the lid back on the water bottle before dropping it back into his bag. You watch as he leans to swipe your destroyed dress from the floor, balling it up in his hands like trash as he thinks.

“I did, and from the outside looking in, darlin’, your life looks cushy. But that’s all smoke and mirrors, isn’t it?” Wonwoo doesn’t watch you nod, even as you do. “Won’t lie, your daddy acts like he’s running an escort service, but you’re the only one working.”

Wonwoo’s words cause your face to heat up. You are angry with him, with his words, and with the truth. You know he’s not wrong and you’ve heard the rumors before. If it isn’t a marriage he is trying to set up for you with a rich son or a business partner, at least he can get a date for you, and you are reminded to make them happy. Happy is such a broad term, but you knew what it meant. You hate your father for it and any of the men who wanted the dates.

Dropping your dress in the corner of the room, deeming that the new trash pile, Wonwoo moves back over to you to kneel in front of you. He meets your eyes, then reaches out to slide the leg of your new sweatpants up so he can look at your ankle. When you wince, his fingers prodding at the swollen muscle, he nods and sighs.

“It’s not broken; you’ll live.”

Wonwoo runs his thumb along his palm as he watches you sleep. This has become his new pastime over the past couple of days. It hadn’t been his plan, but between disappointingly annoying phone calls from Bonhwa and watching time tick away, Wonwoo watched your spirit dwindle with it.

In reality, he knew he shouldn’t care. In fact, it should be a good thing. You were less combative. You ran your mouth less. You complained about things less, and yet Wonwoo was starting to miss that fiery woman who made his blood boil. This fragile thing laying in a ball on the couch was a shadow of you, and he had done that. Maybe not on his own, but he was the hands, if not the head.

Leaning his head back against the door, Wonwoo picks up his cellphone, looking at another text message from Bonhwa. Each time his phone rang today, he had let it go to voicemail. He wasn’t some errand boy. Park Bonhwa had already paid him for this job; sure, there was still something left to do, but he couldn’t keep asking him for more shit without adding zeros to the end of what he had given him. Especially the shit he was asking for.

Park: I’m tired of your bullshit

Park: As if I’m not already dealing with enough from the bitch’s daddy

Park: Hyong wants more pictures

2 missed calls from Park

Park: You son of a bitch

Park: answer the fucking phone!

Answering the phone Wonwoo hisses out his words, keeping his voice low so as not to wake you.

“What the fuck do you want? I sent pictures—”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Price came down and the motherfucker is still refusing to pay up like Hyong wants him too. Send more.”

Wonwoo didn’t know who Hyong was; he figured it was the man who had hired Bonhwa, but truthfully, he didn’t care. The less he knew, the better. Biting at his cheek, Wonwoo rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“I’m not touching her again. Bad enough, the fucker wants her dead anyway.”

Slamming his fist down on his desk, Bonhwa grits his teeth and scoffs into his phone.

“Worthless. I thought you were a professional. The best? Did I waste my fuckin’ money?” Giving Wonwoo only a moment to start to speak, Bonhwa cuts him off before he gets out the first syllable. “Do I need to send some boys to find you and the girl? Have them finish the job?”

The idea of that made Wonwoo sick to his stomach. He knew enough about Park Bonhwa and his men to know he’d rather kill you himself than let them near you. They wouldn’t just kill you. They would assault you, torture you, film it like Bonhwa wanted, and then kill you.

“Fuck off. I'll take care of it.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo tosses the phone into his bag with a louder groan than he meant to cause you to stir from your sleep. Furrowing your brows, you glance towards the man with a bit of concern in your eyes. The past day, he had changed his attitude towards you in some ways. He wasn’t nice, per se, but he wasn’t unnecessarily cruel either.

Meeting your eyes, Wonwoo sighs, lifting his hand to brush it through his hair. He needed a shower and so did you. It would do some good to move locations. It wasn’t his plan. He knew he could tie you to one of the exposed pipes and go do what he needed to do, but for some reason he found himself not wanting to do that.

“Wanna go for some fresh air, princess?”

Sitting up slowly, you consider Wonwoo’s question before nodding. You had heard some of his conversations with his boss, this Park man, and none of them had you convinced that this was going your way.

Wonwoo gets to his feet, leaning to pick up his duffle bag as you slide from the couch. His eyes follow you carefully, watching how you weakly move towards him. That pang of pity hits him and Wonwoo tries to force it back down, only for it to rise up in his throat like bile. Shaking his head, Wonwoo wraps his arm around your waist, letting you lean against him as you try to keep some weight off your swollen ankle as the two of you walk back down the stairs.

“Can I ask a question?”

Your voice surprises Wonwoo as he opens the back door of the car for you. Meeting your gaze, he tilts his head and nods once, waiting for you to continue.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Your question makes the bile bubble in Wonwoo’s throat once again. Looking away, Wonwoo has to clear his throat, forcing the sick feeling down before he once again meets your eyes. There is fear in your eyes, but also a deep sadness that Wonwoo has started to notice as your confident facade starts to crack. Wonwoo knew he could lie to you but what good would that do to anyone?

“I’m supposed to. That’s the job.”

Tears sit on the rims of your eyes as you nod while sitting down on the backseat of the car. You try to think of the right words or a reason to beg for your life, but you can’t think of a single reason. Wonwoo furrows his brows as he watches you nod and pull your legs into the car. His eyes trace the tears as they run down your cheeks before he closes the door and curses under his breath. No other mark had made him feel like this. Why did you feel different?

Looking around the house, you wrap your arms around you, waiting for the punchline of Wonwoo’s joke. He had taken you from the most disgusting, dilapidated apartment building you had ever seen to a modest sized house just outside of the city. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was clean and had modern comforts.

Wonwoo locks the door, shielding the keypad with his large upper body, as you hear the sound of a code being keyed into the security system. Turning back to face you as you stand in the foyer, clearly confused, he sighs, dropping his duffle bag with a dull thud before crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

“Let me make something clear to you, Y/N. This doesn’t change anything. I’m just tired of sleeping on the fuckin’ ground.”

You couldn’t tell if he was lying. That was something you hadn’t mastered yet. Wonwoo was so closed off and you were too tired to pry. Swallowing hard, you look down as he keeps staring at you, his eyes almost studying you as they move along your frame, continuing his explanation.

“You try to open a door to the outside; I’ll know and you’ll regret it. Don’t fuck with me, understand?”

Nodding, you pick at a loose string on the sweatpants you were currently borrowing. They were ill fitting, but still warmer and better than the dress that you had been wearing. You wanted to tell Wonwoo you were grateful for the clothes and for him moving you here, but you find yourself almost afraid to tell him anything. You were afraid that if you showed any sign of comfort, he might take it away because Park told him too.

“Good girl. Come on.”

Grabbing your wrist, Wonwoo guides you down the hall, turning on a light that makes you squint. You had grown accustomed to the low light of the camping lamps in the apartment. The lights in the house were almost too much at first. Glancing up, you blink a few times before you realize Wonwoo has led you to a bathroom. You feel tears once again coat your eyes, but you will them back as you watch him turn on the shower and mutter to himself before sighing and looking you over.

“Here’s the deal, alright?” Swallowing hard, Wonwoo looks like he’s in pain at the words he is trying to force out of his mouth as he leans against the bathroom counter before he meets your eyes once again. “I don’t want to hurt you. What I told you is true, but they want more pictures.”

A small sob escapes from your lips and Wonwoo feels his stomach tighten, the bile once again churning. Perhaps once he had enjoyed putting a little fear into you, but now it was chipping away at something inside of him.

Taking a step back from Wonwoo, you feel the wall behind you as you close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. You had no idea what sort of pictures they could want now. The last ones had broken you and Wonwoo hadn’t done more than scare you. He had taken them in a way to mimic pain, but still, they had caused you enough pain.

“I don’t want to, Wonwoo.”

Running his hand over his mouth, Wonwoo nods. He wants to tell you that he doesn’t want to either, but he also doesn’t want the alternative if he doesn’t deliver them.

“If I don’t send them to him, Park will have his goons track you and I down. They are worse than me. Their pictures won’t be fake…”

“Yours aren’t fake! I’m—” Lifting your hands, you rub at your cheeks, smearing dirt from your hands onto your face in the process of wiping your tears. “I’m so scared. Just kill me. Please? I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

Taking the step across the bathroom towards you, Wonwoo listens to your breath get caught in your throat. He watches your body tense up as you prepare yourself for him to scare you; instead, he takes your wrist loosely in his hand. With his other hand, he carefully rubs at your cheek, trying to clean a smear of dirt from your skin.

“Why the fuck are you just giving up now? Because your daddy is an asshole? You already knew that.”

Leaning your head back against the wall, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes briefly before his eyes move along your face. You were still scared, but there was something about him and about his words that made your shoulders rise. You felt less small if, even for just a moment, you wanted to explain yourself, but maybe that was why he had chosen those words.

“Why not? I told you the moment we stepped into that apartment that he wouldn’t give up any money. He’d rather see me dead.”

Groaning in annoyance, Wonwoo slides his hand from your face to rest his fist next to your head on the wall. You feel how close he is to you; his body caging you in. It feels oppressive for a moment until he shakes his head and meets your eyes and the look in his eyes makes the way he’s standing and how close he is feel like a shield.

“I don’t care what he wants and neither should you. I don’t know why you are so fucking sure—”

“Life insurance, Wonwoo.”

Your words cut him off; Wonwoo’s brows knit together tightly. The look on his face is almost one of pain, as much as it is confusion, until the words seem to sink into reality. Nodding, Wonwoo scoffs and leans his head back, a laugh slipping from between his lips before he looks back down at you and shakes his head.

“How much?”

Wonwoo can see how you have relaxed in front of him. The steam filling the room is comforting and tempting, but he keeps his eyes on you, waiting for your answer.

“100 billion.”

That explained everything. You were worth so much more to him dead than you were alive. Park’s associate clearly hadn’t done his homework. Wonwoo feels his blood boiling at the idea of a father putting that much worth on his child, hoping she would die before he would so he would benefit. There had been a lot of shitty things he had done in his life, but in that moment, he decided that killing you wouldn’t be one of them.

“No.”

Confused by Wonwoo’s response, you tilt your head and repeat it back to him as a question. To you, it was simple. It was exactly what was happening. You were explaining it perfectly, there was no reason for Wonwoo not to understand. Starting to speak again, you stop when Wonwoo shakes his head. You feel his fingers trail up your forearm as he lets out a sigh before they once again encircle your wrist.

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” Gesturing his head towards the shower, Wonwoo takes a step back from you, gently pulling you from the wall. “Take a shower; we can talk about the pictures later. Fuck all of them.”

Opening your mouth, you close it once again when Wonwoo mutters something under his breath before leaving you in the room alone. You were confused and surprised by his reaction. You had expected him to talk you into taking whatever pictures Park wanted. You had been mentally preparing yourself for some humiliating experience, but instead you were now alone in a warm bathroom.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you frown at the sight. You can see the dirt smeared on your skin and how disheveled your hair has gotten from a lack of care. Giving one last glance at the door, almost certain Wonwoo will come back in, you let out a slow, calming breath before stripping yourself of your borrowed clothes and making your way to the much welcomed shower.

Leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, Wonwoo listens to the sound of the water hitting the shower floor. He can imagine it running along your body, though he tries to push that thought from his mind quickly, afraid of where it might lead. Instead, he reminds himself how good a shower must feel after a couple days of being with him and how he has treated you. Sighing to himself, Wonwoo imagines the water pooling at your feet after it washes away the dirt, hoping it will wash away some of your stress, just like he hopes it will wash away his own.

Taking his cellphone from his jeans, Wonwoo scowls at a text from Bonhwa before replying and shoving it back into his pocket. He had no respect for the man. Not that he had before learned from you, but now he had no reason to keep any loyalty towards him.

Park: Chop chop, Jeon. I want my pictures.

Wonwoo: When I’m ready.

Picking up his duffle bag, Wonwoo climbs the flight of stairs to the second floor, turning on the light for the bedroom. He had many safe houses. They were in various locations around Korea and other countries. None were in his real name and each one was kept stocked by people he could trust. This one was no different.

Opening the dresser, Wonwoo furrows his brows at the clothing choice. There was plenty for him, but he was limited in his choices for you. It wasn’t his every day that he kept a mark with him and clothed them. Tossing a few things onto the bed, Wonwoo turns his attention to the closet, tilting his head at a few items near the back. Things he had forgotten had been left behind by those he would never name. He found himself pleased with his own hoarding tendencies as he pulled a simple summer dress and sweater from the closet, hoping they would fit you.

With a towel wrapped around your body, you look through the drawers in the bathroom for things you might be able to use. A face wash and moisturizer catch your eye and you find yourself wondering if they belong to Wonwoo or if he had friends, perhaps a girlfriend you weren’t aware of. Shaking your head, you quickly use the products and relish in the feeling of brushing your teeth before you hear the sound of Wonwoo’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Y/N? I—are you decent? Well, decent enough for me to come in?”

You think back to Wonwoo peeking over his shoulder at you changing at the apartment as you glance towards the door. Your cheeks start to heat up as you hold your towel tighter and pull the door open, letting Wonwoo inside if he wants.

Wonwoo takes a deep breath as his eyes move over your legs and up to your face. You watch as he seems to forget what he is doing for a brief moment before lifting his hands to show you the clothes he has collected for you. Furrowing your brows, you can’t help but smile even slightly at the sight of the dress over Wonwoo’s arm. It’s a simple soft green knee mid-thigh length dress that you know you would have never worn before all of this, but now the dress looks like comfort and kindness.

“I don’t know if they will fit you, but they are all I could find. I could get you some of my things if you’d prefer—”

“These are great, Wonwoo, if that’s okay?”

Reaching out for the dress and sweater, you accidentally brush your hand over Wonwoo’s before pulling your hand back on instinct. You find yourself nervous, perhaps even a bit afraid of what his response might be. Looking down, your brows furrowed, you hear Wonwoo say your name softly, drawing your attention back up to him.

“It’s okay. Get dressed and we can…” You watch Wonwoo scoff into a laugh at how ridiculous he feels at his own words as he says them. “Talk about your situation.”

Not really understanding what Wonwoo means, you just nod and take the clothes from him, stepping back so he can shut the bathroom door once again. Your fingers carefully brush over the fabric in your hands and you feel goosebumps spread over your skin at how soft the sweater feels. Had Wonwoo noticed how cold you had been at the apartment? Was this a kind gesture to keep you warmer here? Should you not think about it like that?

Glancing up at the ceiling as you hear water running, you tilt your head, realizing that Wonwoo was probably using another bathroom to take his own shower. He was trusting you not to run. Granted, he had given you a warning not to run. He had set an alarm and told you what would happen, but there was still a level of trust in taking a shower knowing you were done.

With the sweater over your new dress, you look at the front door. There were three deadbolts, a chain, and a keypad that you had heard Wonwoo type something into earlier. It would take you a few minutes to get them all undone and the alarm would go off, but then you could run. You were exhausted, you were hungry, and now you were confused.

Running your fingers over the soft sleeves of your sweater, you look behind you up the stairs, where you can still hear running water. Was this a test? Your mind goes back to what Wonwoo said before he left you alone but more so about what he said before your shower.

“He doesn’t get what he wants.”

Moving away from the door, you look around the living room. Your eyes fall to the soft couch, a sigh slipping from your lips as you sit down on it, feeling the cloth against the back of your legs. It was so much nicer than the dirty leather of the one in the apartment. You weren’t sure how this house worked if Wonwoo lived here often, but it was clean and almost felt like home.

Running his fingers through his wet hair, Wonwoo looks around the bedroom, listening for any signs of you. He hadn’t gotten any alerts that the doors had been opened, but if you had, he wouldn’t have really blamed you. Sure, he had warned you not to do it, but that had been before everything he had learned about your father and now if you walked out that door, he might just let you go. The only thing stopping him was the fear that Bonhwa’s men would find you before he did.

Jogging down the steps, Wonwoo tugs his shirt down his torso, only to meet your eyes as he rounds the doorway into the living room. You were lying on the couch and it reminded him so much of the apartment. The main difference here is that you looked comfortable and somehow even more beautiful. You almost took his breath away in the new dress, the sweater’s sleeves held at your palms by your fingers.

“Hey…”

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes, you sit up quickly. That fear that he might be upset at your comfort suddenly hits you until he sighs. Gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder, Wonwoo closes his eyes in thought before finally speaking.

“I’ll make something warm to eat. I can’t promise it’ll be good or not expired. But it’ll be food. Then we can talk.”

Smiling to yourself, you lift your hand to your lips to hide your smile as you watch Wonwoo move across the hall into the kitchen. There had been a shift in him over the past couple of days but more so today. This Wonwoo was still intense; he frightened you at times, but he was also warm and comforting in a strange way.

Turning to lay on your stomach, you rest your chin on your arm, watching Wonwoo open cabinets. From where you are, you can hear him muttering something to himself and see him occasionally reach up to scratch at his brow before he finally seems to figure out what to do next.

After a few minutes of struggling, he finally manages to find a pot for water and some ramen. Looking over his shoulder back into the living room, Wonwoo has to hide his smirk, finding you watching him from the couch. The way you are lying is cute—your ankles crossed, knees bent so your feet can be up in the air. It reminds him of girls in dramas watching television or writing in their diaries, not that he’s watched a drama or movie in years.

With ramen on the table in front of you, still in the pot, Wonwoo offers you a set of chopsticks as he sits near you on the floor. Shifting to sit next to him, you lean over the table to look down at the food with appreciation before giving the same look to Wonwoo.

“Thank you… I–I honestly didn’t expect you to give me anything.”

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo nods, gesturing for you to take the first bite. He watches you savor some of the noodles as his brows furrow, feeling his phone vibrate in his sweatpants pocket. He knew he should check it, but that would require caring what Park Bonhwa had to say, and right now he didn’t. Right now, the only thing that he cared about was getting something in your stomach and having a conversation that didn’t end with you being terrified of him.

“That’s fair. I haven’t—look, this isn’t the most ideal situation we are in.”

Scoffing, you stop yourself immediately, lowering your head apologetically at your gut reaction. You couldn’t help but find the irony in Wonwoo’s words. You knew it wasn’t an ideal situation but if it wasn’t ideal for him, he should try being you. You were the one who was going to be dead soon.

“You’re allowed to react, princess.”

That name. At first, it had made you angry, but you figured that was probably Wonwoo's desired reaction to it. Now the name makes your cheeks burn with something else. It made you feel shy and while it still made you feel smaller than Wonwoo, you didn’t hate that feeling. His larger than life stature over you, standing between you and Park somehow seemed like a good thing right now.

“Just don’t wanna piss you off. I’m good at that, if you remember...”

Smirking, Wonwoo tilts his head before leaning to eat some of the noodles and licking the broth from his lips. He did remember, but the you that had seemed dead set on frustrating him to no end a few days ago now seemed like she was miles away. You were someone different and he wanted to find the woman who was in the middle.

“Trust me, I do.”

Watching you, Wonwoo can’t help the way he has to take a breath as you blow at the ramen with a small smile on your face at his words. If this were any other situation, one might mistake it for a date, but he knew the reason you were here just as much as you did.

“Do you even want to go home?”

The question makes you stop what you are doing mid bite. Furrowing your brows, you glance over at Wonwoo, finding his eyes on you. Your stomach tightens at how intense his gaze is, the weight behind it and his question. It was a loaded question with many different possible answers, but only one that you could think of.

“No.”

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo nods, letting that reality sink in. He had a few options laid out in front of him of how this week could end. He could follow through with what he had been paid to do. He could kill you, put your body on your father’s doorstep, and call it a job well done. He could let you go, never thinking of you again, but Wonwoo finds himself struggling to picture himself doing that and you surviving. Then there was the third option...

“I have a friend—mmm, no, let’s call him an acquaintance; we aren’t friends. This acquaintance has been in touch about you.”

The words all make sense but yet you shake your head, not understanding what any of them mean. You didn’t know Wonwoo’s acquaintances or his friends and you weren’t sure what they would want with you, unless...

“He wants to kill me?”

Meeting your eyes almost in shock by your assumption, Wonwoo shakes his head and sighs. The sigh is loud and exasperated because clearly he’s not going quickly enough and explaining well enough.

“No, Jesus, Y/N… No, he’s—he’s a detective. I could either hand you over to him or—or I could have him help me let you disappear.”

Looking around the room, you repeat some of what Wonwoo had said back to yourself as if trying to understand it before meeting his eyes. He had changed his mind. He wasn’t going to kill you. You hadn’t been wrong in the shift you had seen in him; you just didn’t understand why.

“Why? I mean… not that I’m not grateful and that I don’t want it—”

“Which one?”

Cutting you off with his question, Wonwoo slides his arm along the couch cushion behind your back as you look at him, lost for words. He expected a quick decision and you weren’t sure you were capable. Shaking your head, you lay down your chopsticks and lean back against the couch, a bit surprised to feel Wonwoo’s hand against your arm. Looking down at his fingers, you furrow your brows, watching them flex once before he braves the water and rests them against your bicep.

“I need to know because there isn’t a lot of time for this to work. I’m not trying to scare you by saying that, but honestly, you should still be scared. I’m not saying anything about me; I’m not going to hurt you… but Bonhwa…”

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes once again, you have a new, intrigued look on your face at learning a name. You hadn’t heard the name Bonhwa before; was that Park’s first name?

“He would? Park Bonhwa?”

Realizing what he had said, Wonwoo looks down with a sigh. Nodding, he lifts his free hand to rub at his brows before looking up at you once again.

“Yes, he’s a piece of shit, Y/N. Some bigger piece of shit hired him to do this. Somebody who doesn’t like your father.”

Now you are starting to learn things and understand them. You didn’t know anyone named Park Bonhwa, but your father had plenty of enemies and plenty of people pretending to be friends who would want his downfall.

“So if I disappear, how does that work?”

Pursing his lips, Wonwoo shifts closer to you and makes an unsure sound.

“I’ll have to work it out with Cheo—with my acquaintance. If it’s what you want, I’ll figure it out.”

Looking over Wonwoo’s face, you find yourself nodding, convinced by his words but still something hangs in the air. There was something that made you pause and look at him with uncertainty.

“Why are you doing this for me? You hate me.”

Looking at his hand as he picks at the sweater resting over your arm, Wonwoo sighs at your question. It was a fair one. He hadn’t given you any other reason to think otherwise. He had pretty much told you more than once that he didn’t like you, that he hated you, but you had returned the favor. Looking at you now, Wonwoo was almost too shy to look back up at your eyes.

"Uh—yeah, well, shit changes, doesn’t it? When you aren’t trying to actively hate someone for the job and they aren’t being a bitch for fun?”

Letting out a scoff, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, almost defiantly realizing how close he is. You can see his brows knit together as his eyes waver from your eyes to your lips and back. Neither of you are idiots or immune to the tension blanketing the two of you as your eyes follow a similar path on his face.

“It wasn’t for fun... all the time. Most of the time it was—”

“A shield?”

Nodding, you find your brows pulling together this time at Wonwoo’s words, as he seems to know you better than to anticipate. He had been paying attention to you and listening to what you had been saying over the past few days. Inhaling softly, you feel Wonwoo’s fingers press against your arm as he mutters a curse under his breath, leaning his head in closer to yours. You can almost see the internal battle written on Wonwoo’s face as he struggles with the desire to act on his wants and instincts compared to what he knows he should do.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

Shaking your head, you pause to lick your lips and Wonwoo smiles, knowing you aren’t telling him the full truth. Maybe you weren’t as afraid of him as you once were, but there is still fear left. Giving into desire, Wonwoo leans in the last few inches, letting his lips barely brush against yours as he speaks, letting you decide to meet his kiss or pull away.

“Promised I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else either.”

A small whine escapes from your lips at Wonwoo’s confession and the feeling of his breath on your lips. You have a split second to consider your options before you give in to your desires and meet his kiss gently. You have little to no reason to trust Wonwoo and yet now everything in your being is telling you that you can, as his lips mesh with yours.

Flexing your fingers, you dig them into the mattress under you, enjoying the feeling of it under you. There was something freeing about this fucked up situation you found yourself in. There were still some who expected something out of you, but you had the most unexpected shield.

Opening your eyes, you look at Wonwoo’s face as he sleeps beside you. After the simple kiss, he insisted you finish eating and ushered you upstairs to bed. You could remember the same man who had forced you up steps a few days earlier, but he seemed a million miles away now.

The man sleeping beside you now, his brows knit together as he dreamed, wasn’t that person. Perhaps he was on the surface, but underneath that mask, you were learning he was a warm, complicated person. He wasn’t the asshole you had called him so many times and you weren’t the bitch you pretended to be. There was an art to lying as much as you two had to one another.

Shifting slightly, you take a breath, only to hold it when Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open. He was apparently a light sleeper. You had wondered if he was; he always seemed to be awake at the apartment so seeing him asleep was a rare, fleeting treat. Looking over your face, Wonwoo’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he turns to lay on his back with a sigh.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo rubs his eyes with his middle finger and thumb as he yawns. You smile watching him enjoy how domestic the moment feels, wishing it would never end. You find yourself letting your eyes move over Wonwoo a bit more brazenly while he’s distracted. How attractive he was had never escaped you; it had just been overshadowed by how much he had frightened you, but now, as he rubbed at his tired eyes, you found him even more handsome.

“I don’t really sleep.”

Pursing your lips, you pull your legs up towards your stomach under the blanket, your thumbnail resting against your lips as you try to hide your smile. Wonwoo lifts his brows at your reaction to him, his eyes doing something similar to yours, but he takes a bit more time before taking a breath and licking his lips.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

Resting your head on your bicep, you shake it slightly, move your hand from your lips.

“It’s not that. You just confuse me. I’m not sure you are human.”

Smiling, Wonwoo lifts his brow and lets his eyes once again move over your pretty face. If he let himself, he could imagine this being a very normal situation. Just two people lying in bed, getting closer to one another. It was almost terrifying to him that he wanted that, but looking at you as you nuzzled your cheek to the soft sweater you were now lovingly wearing, Wonwoo yearned for it.

“I am… I just tend to run off caffeine and power naps.”

Your laugh is welcomed music to Wonwoo’s ears. He had heard it before, when you were living your life before all of this. It hadn’t sounded like this, though. It was almost robotic then and annoying. It had gotten on his nerves; everything about you before had, and it had made hurting you easier. He couldn’t imagine hurting the girl in front of him now. Now he was fighting the urge to run his fingers over your face and over your hair. He was trying to convince himself not to kiss you again.

“That can’t be healthy. Someone needs to take care of you, Kim Wonwoo.”

Hearing the fake name that he had given you and your father, Wonwoo’s smile fades. You watch Wonwoo’s eyes move away from yours, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to think of what to say. You are about to ask him what’s wrong when the sound of his phone ringing draws his attention away from you and towards the nightstand.

Narrowing his eyes at the name on the screen, Wonwoo sits up, swiping it almost angrily from the top of the nightstand before answering the phone. Your eyes follow him as he slides from the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher.

“What the fuck do you want now?”

Scowling at Wonwoo’s attitude, Park Bonhwa slams the door to his Cadillac, giving a lingering look to his driver. They all knew he was in a bad mood, he had been since he had taken on this contract and it was giving them all a headache. Jeon Wonwoo was a serious pain in the ass.

“You know what I fucking wanted, motherfucker! Now I just want her corpse. I’ll send someone else to get it if you are too much of a pussy to—”

“You won’t do anything!”

Being cut off by Wonwoo, Bonhwa smacks his hand against the metal door in front of him. The professional that had come so highly recommended was starting to look more like a petulant child than a hitman.

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jeon?”

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo glances back at you, realizing you could hear more of his conversation than he would like. He could see the tears on your cheeks and he needed to fix this. Pulling open the bedroom door, Wonwoo slams it behind him, leaving you alone and unable to hear anything more than his muffled angry voice and the occasional word, but it was enough. You understood what “Park” wanted. Wonwoo had offered to help you disappear, but maybe that was too difficult.

Hissing out his words like venom, Wonwoo glares at the window in front of him as if Bonhwa is in front of him. At this point, he wished the man was. He would let him take your place and make this all a lot simpler.

“I’ll take care of it! Wire the goddamn money, you piece of shit. If your timeline can speed up, my price can go up.”

Wonwoo can hear Bonhwa’s argument starting but he is quick to cut him off before he starts by ending the call. There was a lot to explain to you and a lot to apologize for. Granted, he didn’t really owe you or anyone an apology for living his life and making a living in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t his fault he had fallen—no, he wasn’t going to admit that even to himself.

Scrolling through his contacts, Wonwoo hits another name, placing the phone back against his ear and letting it ring. His head was starting to hurt. He hadn’t slept enough; like he had told you, he rarely did, but now it was starting to weigh on him.

“What? Turning yourself in?”

Wonwoo scoffs at Choi Seungcheol’s words as he slides down the wall outside of the bedroom. There had only been one man who had even come close to catching him and it had been Detective Choi Seungcheol. The only reason he hadn’t was because of a deal struck between a desperate man and an even more desperate, not always by the book, detective. It had worked in Wonwoo’s favor then and he hoped it would now.

“Never. Need to ask for that favor.”

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol glances around his office before leaning to close the door with a deafening click. He owed Wonwoo more than one favor, but luckily for him so far none of them had bit him in the ass. He hoped this one wouldn’t either.

“And you need to get that girl home, Wonwoo. How long are you gonna keep her away from her family?”

"Forever, hopefully, with your help.”

That hadn’t been the answer that Seungcheol had been expecting. He hadn’t heard about your kidnapping through your father until another reliable source brought it to his attention. It was only when he and another officer approached your father did he even admit to you being taken. Seungcheol knew there was something strange about this case. It didn’t matter if fathers were told not to tell the police about their children being kidnapped, they would. That was just a father’s instinct to protect a child. Your father was different. He seemed like he had already accepted your death.

“I—and why the fuck would I—”

“Because I’m going to help you get a promotion, Cheol.”

Wonwoo knew that would get Seungcheol’s attention and it did. Now the detective was listening, his lips pursed as he looked at his computer in front of him, deep in thought, before finally letting out a breath.

“How so?”

Of course, he would want to know what he would get out of it first. That detail didn’t make Wonwoo feel the best about this, but he would go about it however he needed to in order to help you now. Glancing towards the closed door, hoping that you weren’t upset with him for walking out, Wonwoo chewed at his cheek and knocked his head back against the wall.

“Her dad, I think I can get—no, I know I can get enough to blow a whistle on his company. It’d be one hell of a bust for you, Detective Choi.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbow on his desk, Seungcheol scoffed at Wonwoo’s attempt at flattery. It was working. He knew that Y/L/N Financial Incorporation was shady, but he couldn’t touch it. There were too many lawyers and hoops to jump through in the corporate world that gave Seungcheol ulcers, but if it were laid in his lap… Well, that was a different story. Bringing down a corrupt trading company that many had lost their money to could do just what Wonwoo had said. He could have almost any position in the department that he wanted, or he could run for office.

“And what do you need from me?”

A breath of relief washes over Wonwoo at Seungcheol’s question. He knew the man had other connections and between the two of them and pulling a few other strings, they could solve this.

“She doesn’t want to go home, Cheol, and they all want her dead. So, we give them what they want. She gets a fresh start and a new name.”

This wasn’t something easily done, but Seungcheol knew that Wonwoo knew that. He knew what he was asking of him and now Seungcheol wasn’t sure if the prize was worth the work. Making a sound of concern, Seungcheol sits back in his chair, glancing towards his door, when Wonwoo speaks up once again.

“Have you met her father?”

Furrowing his brows, Seungcheol remembers talking to the man in his office. The older man had refused to come to the station, and even meeting in his own plush personal office seemed like an inconvenience. Talking about your kidnapping and possible impending death seemed like an inconvenience for him. Seungcheol remembered leaving frustrated and confused. He wasn’t a father yet but he hoped that he would be a better one than yours.

“Mm, a real son of a bitch.”

“He’s got a hell of a life insurance policy for Y/N. He doesn’t want her back, Cheol. Imagine how that might make her feel. She knew the moment I took her that she wasn’t going to make it, and I wasn’t even the one who told her.”

Guilt hits Seungcheol in the stomach. He wants to argue with Wonwoo, turn on the cop and get angry with him for taking you, but from the sound of your situation, maybe it was a good thing he had taken you out of it. He wasn’t an idiot; he had already been told the stories of the business parties and the deals your father tried to make involving you. Seungcheol shakes his head and scoffs, making a face as if he’d eaten something sour.

“Fine, I’ll help you—I’ll help Y/N. Get your information together to make it worth my time. You know what you’re askin’ for, Wonwoo. Your information isn’t good enough and I lose my job? I’ll kill you.”

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s threat, though he knows it's a good one. He knew that Choi Seungcheol would be one of the only people who would probably be able to hunt him down and would kill him given the chance, but it wouldn’t happen.

“The information will be better than good.”

Picking at your nails, you lean your head back against the headboard, listening to Wonwoo’s muffled voice just outside of the bedroom. The first conversation had been heated and full of hatred, but this second one seemed to be going his way.

Your tears had dried on your cheeks, but the churning feeling hadn’t quite settled in your stomach by the time Wonwoo opens the door. He could almost feel how your attitude had shifted from before as he leaned against the doorframe. That smile that he had been enjoying was nowhere to be found, and he knew that laugh was going to be hard won.

“Y/N…”

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Wonwoo anymore. You weren’t even afraid or surprised by the situation; at this point, you were coming to terms with reality. Meeting his eyes, you feel the tears once again well up in your eyes as he frowns and shakes his head.

“It’s fine, Wonwoo.”

Moving on to the bed, Wonwoo reaches for your hand, trying to come up with the right words to explain things when you continue.

“I know you didn’t want me to overhear it, but it really is okay. I know my father doesn’t give a shit about me. He didn’t care about my mother, so why would I be different?” Using your free hand to rub at your nose, you glance down at your hand in Wonwoo’s. “If I could just ask a favor or two?”

Your words were breaking Wonwoo’s heart, but as you spoke, they felt necessary. Each word builds on one another, like an explanation of you, until you finally ask something of him. Humming softly to let you continue, Wonwoo swallows hard, reaching out with his free hand to push at your tears on your cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want to be in pain and could you make my death mean something? Make it a lesson for him? He’s going to get even richer from it, but that doesn’t mean—-”

Having heard enough, the implication of you asking him to make your death not painful, Wonwoo slides his hand along your cheek to cup your face.

“Stop, Y/N… just—shh, please, princess?”

Closing your eyes when Wonwoo stops you mid sentence, you lean into his touch, feeling his forehead rest against yours. You meant every word. You hated the idea of being overwhelmed with pain or fear at the moment of your death, just as much as you hated your father using your death for his own gain. You felt like those were valid wishes from a dead woman, but maybe they were too hard for the one who had to fulfill them.

“I can’t listen to you talk like that. Fuck—”

Wonwoo was a cold man on most days. He didn’t have many emotions and none that would be shared with most people, but today he felt tears collecting on the rims of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or the last time his chest felt so heavy as he had someone in his hands. The feeling of your skin against his palm was better than anything he could imagine, and he knew he would do anything for you and do anything to keep you close to him in that moment.

“I’m not going to kill you. I told you that. They don’t get to win. Baby… I—I mean, fuck, I told you that already.”

Hearing “baby” slip off Wonwoo’s lips makes fresh tears slip down your cheeks. It was almost cruel the cards that the world was dealing you. In your mind, there was no way you’d be able to keep this man in front of you, so why were you once again being tortured by wanting him and his love? You were starting to understand him, or so you thought, and he wasn’t the type to keep people around or love them.

Shaking your head, you try to lean back, wanting to make this separation easier on you and Wonwoo, but your fingers hold you to him. A sound of pain escapes Wonwoo’s lips as he slides along your arm and he shakes his head in return.

“I’ll make you disappear; remember, I said I knew someone, and I’ll—” The words seem difficult and unplanned as Wonwoo leans back, his fingers once again trying to get rid of your tears as you meet his eyes. He looks desperate, almost like a different person—a man not willing to lose what’s in front of him. “I’ll disappear with you.”

Wrapping your hands around Wonwoo’s wrists, you give him a confused look. There were so many questions on your mind because so many things about what he just said didn’t make sense to you. You didn’t understand how his friend could just make you disappear and go with you.

“Why?” Now the same confusion was written on Wonwoo’s face as you asked the one word question, prompting you to speak again. “Why would you disappear with me, Wonwoo?”

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo strokes his thumb along your cheek. That was a valid question. You had every right to ask that, and he should answer it. Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo licks his lips and glances down at yours before cursing under his breath. He knew the answer, it was just the most difficult thing he had ever admitted to another person in his life.

“I—shit, Y/N… it’s cause…”

You watch Wonwoo struggle with his words, feeling his fingers move over your skin as his brows furrow, almost in pain at how hard he’s trying to manifest his sentence. What was so hard to say to you? Sighing, you start to pull away again when Wonwoo’s lips meet yours and you only whimper into the kiss.

Wonwoo hopes the kiss will be enough to explain what he’s trying to say, but even as he deepens it and his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips, he knows it’s not. He can feel your hand grabbing at his bicep and the words bubble up in his throat, escaping on to your lips like a breath.

“I love you.”

Your eyes close tighter at Wonwoo’s words, the confession hitting you in the chest like a brick. You scratch at his arm under your fingers and let out a soft sob into the kiss, feeling him nod, almost understanding you without words. The tension in the room is thick and warm. It felt like a blanket in the middle of the summer, making you both feel like you were overheating.

Laying you back on the bed, Wonwoo hovers over you, looking over your face, when he finally pulls back from the kiss. Your tears still flow freely from the corners of your eyes, causing him to swipe at them and shake his head, wishing he could will them away with a single word.

“I do; I’m sorry—”

Wrapping your hand into the front of Wonwoo’s t-shirt, pull him down hard to meet your lips, speaking against them as he starts to apologize for loving you. You silence him with your kiss, letting him settle between your thighs as you pull your knee up towards his hip. Wonwoo groans softly into your mouth, his brows finally relaxing, feeling you invite him closer to you.

With your free hand, you run your fingers through Wonwoo's hair, arching your back as his fingers gather your dress at your hip. After nipping at your lips, he tilts back to look down at you, searching your eyes before staring at his hand as he exposes more of your skin. The air crackles with electric anticipation as desire intensifies between you and Wonwoo. Every touch and every glance fuels the growing fire within, leaving you both yearning for more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between your bodies. On an exhale, you let out a soft whine, walking your fingers along Wonwoo's jaw, your words coming out breathy and soft.

“Don’t apologize for saying that to me, Wonwoo.”

Closing his eyes, Wonwoo turns his attention back towards you, leaning to press his lips against your wrist. He knew he had a lot to explain to you. There was a lot you didn’t understand, a lot of half truths he had told you. He didn’t wait anymore, not when he rested between your warm thighs and felt your fingers tighten on his shirt, keeping him close to you like you never wanted to lose him. He was afraid once you knew the full truth about him, you wouldn’t want him this close to you again.

“Want you so fucking bad, princess.”

Wonwoo’s words are quiet, his lips moving to press against your jaw as he lays his body against yours. You whine, finally letting go of his shirt in place of wrapping your arm around his waist so you can pull his shirt up his back. All that tension in the room feels like a fire burning around you when you hear him say those words out loud.

Nodding, you lift your hips towards Wonwoo, feeling him smile against your skin before he furrows his brows and whines into a groan. Fingers slide under your dress, along your inner thigh, until finally Wonwoo finds what he was searching for. He can feel your warmth through your damp lace and it’s driving him crazy.

Glancing up at you, Wonwoo watches your lips fall open as he uses his middle finger to press the lace between your folds. It doesn’t take more than a second for him to put pressure on your already throbbing clit, and you are wanting and needing more.

“Please… please, more…”

Wonwoo feels his cock twitch in at your breathy moans. Each new word on your lips—better than anything he had ever experienced. There was no other high that he could think of that could compare to the way his brain soared at such simple words slipping from between your pretty lips. He could feel himself becoming addicted to you with each breathy moan that he earned.

He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more; it would be easy. He could move his fingers ever so slightly and have his fingers inside of you, but looking at your face, Wonwoo paused. Swallowing hard, Wonwoo puts his head down, kissing your collarbone in the process as you feel his fingers slide to your thigh.

“Wha—Wonwoo?”

Reaching for his hand, trying to get him to go back to what he had been doing, you feel Wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist. Instead of letting you guide his hand, he lifts yours to his mouth, kissing your fingers as he meets yours eyes, giving you an apologetic look.

“I do want you, baby... but I need to explain some things to you first. I need you to understand who you are letting touch you, so that if you don’t want—”

Sliding up in the bed under Wonwoo, you cup his face, pressing your lips to his to silence him before he starts rambling. You weren’t stupid; you knew there were lies and obviously plenty weighing on his mind, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Meeting his eyes, you wait for him to speak, finally seeing some of the tension once again release from his face.

“Earlier, uh, you called me Kim Wonwoo.”

Nodding, you trace Wonwoo’s cheek as he settles on the bed in front of you. His hands slide over your legs, letting you adjust so that you are more comfortable. When you drape your leg over his, Wonwoo glances down at your exposed knee, tracing a small scar, trying to distract himself as he speaks.

“That’s not my name. I mean, sort of. It’s Jeon Wonwoo.”

Afraid to meet your eyes, Wonwoo draws shapes on your leg as he continues to explain his life to you. This is the only job he’s ever really known. He doesn’t explain how he got into it, but he’s hurt a lot of people and though he doesn’t say it, you understand he’s killed several people.

“Did they deserve it?”

The question makes Wonwoo’s throat feel like it’s closing up. That was the most difficult question he had ever been asked. This was why he didn’t have emotions or show them. You were bringing out his emotions and making his heart feel things that he hadn’t felt in decades. Watching Wonwoo lean his head back, you feel sorrow for the man in front of you. You want to fix his life, but then you remember how fucked up your own life is as he laughs sadly and shakes his head before shrugging.

“I don’t know, babe. No, not all of them. I didn’t ask them about their morals.”

Shushing Wonwoo, you tilt his head back down to look at you as you lean to brush your lips over his again, feeling him melt under your touch and kiss. It should matter more to you about Wonwoo’s past and possibly his future, but you find that you are more concerned about how he feels about you.

“Did I deserve it?”

Grabbing your wrists, Wonwoo sits back, staring at you, before letting go of one hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. It was a painful question, but a fair one. You had every right to ask it and he needed to answer it no matter how much it hurt him to do it.

“I thought you did at first. Made it easier to take you, to scare you.” Taking a breath, Wonwoo traces the shape of your ear with his fingers meeting your eyes. “But now I know you didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry, Y/N. If you wanna walk out that door, I’ll let you leave.”

Wonwoo’s hand starts to drop from your face as he finishes what he needs to say. He looks defeated and certain you are going to not only kick him out of bed, but worse, you might actually want to leave. The moment his fingers drop from your jaw, you shake your head and move forward, hearing a soft, surprised gasp escape from Wonwoo’s lips when you put his back on the bed. Straddling his hips, you nudge your nose against his and tease him by brushing your lips like a whispered word along his, making him lean up to chase you before you speak.

“I thought you said you’d disappear with me, Jeon Wonwoo?”

His real name on your lips almost floors Wonwoo. His head resting back on the bed, Wonwoo nods, reaching up to once again cup your face with his hand as he mutters his promises.

“I will, yes. I promise... as soon as we can.”

Crashing your lips into his, you hear Wonwoo groan deeply at the feeling. The kiss is different, it’s almost sealing the promise and you both seem to realize that. Fingers once again slide under your dress so that Wonwoo can trace the curve of your ass as you sit down over his half hard cock trapped in his sweatpants.

You were so warm even with his pants and your thin panties, and it was causing Wonwoo’s mind to malfunction. It had been a long time since he had let himself really enjoy sex and a woman’s body for more than just a carnal need. If this had been anyone else, it would be over in minutes without much more than a word said from either person. Everything about you had Wonwoo’s brain screaming to take his time and teach you he could be better.

“Fuck… baby.” Groaning into something that sounds more like a whimper, Wonwoo rocks his hips up to meet yours, feeling you roll your hips over him. “Lay down, let me take care of you.”

Smiling, you sit up, running your fingers over Wonwoo’s chest, feeling him take deep breaths under your touch. In the past, you would have agreed to something like that without question. You would be the first to admit that you were lazy in bed with other people, a bit of a pillow princess, but with Wonwoo, you wanted to be something different. He made you want to show him more, give him more. Show him he is worth more. He was worth the risk.

Shaking your head, you slide down the length of his body, feeling Wonwoo’s eyes on you as he tells you to let him take over once again. He is silenced when your hot breath fans over the front of his sweatpants and his cock jerks almost violently in reaction.

Pressing his head back against the bed, Wonwoo just nods, lifting his hips as your fingers press into the top of his sweatpants, working them down his thighs. Your eyes focus on his face, the way he bites at his bottom lip when his cock is exposed to the air and you for the first time. Finally looking down, you tilt your head and swallow hard, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear your reaction when your eyes move over his cock from base to tip.

“You okay? Princess… I said, let me—”

“Shhh, you are just so big, Wonwoo. It’s a compliment. Take off your shirt for me.”

Your words go straight to Wonwoo’s head and make his face burn, the flush evident running from his neck to his cheeks as he lets out a slow breath. Dropping his pants into the floor, you keep your eyes on him, enjoying the view as he does as you ask, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it across the room.

Laying back reluctantly, he sits back up on his elbows as his cock leaks pre-cum against his abdomen, his eyes moving over you while you shift closer, running your hand along his thigh.

“Baby—c’mon… Let me see you at least.”

Smirking slightly, you work the sweater over your head as Wonwoo watches carefully.

“I think you are being impatient.”

Quietly laughing, Wonwoo reaches out to run his thumb along your knee, his eyes following your fingers as you work your dress up your body.

“Maybe… but you are so fucking beautiful and you won’t let me touch you first. I was close before... you were begging me.”

Humming in agreement with Wonwoo, you hand him your dress, watching him smile as he drops it on the floor with his clothes. His eyes stay focused on you as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, feeling it give way.

“Maybe I want you to beg me instead.”

Lifting his brow, Wonwoo takes a deep breath as your bra falls from your body. He knew you were perfect. There had been no doubt about that from the moment he first saw you as your bodyguard, but seeing you like this and feeling this way about you was a privilege.

“I don’t beg for things, princess.”

Tilting your head, you sit back on your ass between Wonwoo’s legs. With one leg on either side of his, you lift your hips, working your panties down. You hear his breath hitch as you lift one leg and then the other, slipping them off and letting them hang on your fingers before you offer them to him with a question in your eyes.

“You don’t?”

Reaching out to take your panties from you, Wonwoo scoffs when you pull them back just as his fingers graze them. He knows he could simply move and take them from you, but he knows what you want and you were making his mouth water. Licking his lips, Wonwoo tightens his jaw and meets your eyes, putting out his hand.

“But I will for you. Please, baby? Don’t tease me.”

Teasing Wonwoo was fun and it was powerful, but giving him something that he needed was just as rewarding. Smirking, you put your panties in Wonwoo’s hand, moving back to your knees as you watch him bring them to his nose, taking a deep breath of you. Only once he’s had his fill does he drop them next to the bed with the rest of the clothes and lick his lips, swallowing hard at the sight of you.

"Sure, I can’t take care of you first?”

Shaking your head, you listen to Wonwoo groan your name when your fingers wrap around his cock. He is heavy in your hand and you find yourself wanting that weight on your tongue. You want him to moan your name like that as you swallow as much of his cock as you can… so instead of answering him, you act on your desires.

Falling back on the bed, Wonwoo curses loudly as your warm mouth wraps around him. Letting your mouth meet your hand, you moan around Wonwoo, sucking on his head as you pull back, only to sink back down over him without warning. It had been far too long since Wonwoo had been with someone even close to as determined as you in bed and that was becoming too evident as he struggled to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Bab—shit! Y/N… slow—ah, don’t wanna…”

Pulling back from Wonwoo’s cock with a small popping sound, you feel his hips jerk under your hand as you continue to stroke him. Everything you had wanted from him was becoming a reality. You were dripping onto the bed under you from the sounds coming out of Wonwoo’s mouth and the taste of him on your tongue.

Clinging to the bedding under him, Wonwoo groans loudly as you press your tongue against his slit. Not wanting to cum into your mouth, he reaches to grab at your hair, whining your name and pushing his ass against the bed, trying to get away from your mouth.

“Wanna—please? Feels too good. Let me have you.”

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes again, you lick your lips, tasking the pre-cum smeared on them, listening to another groan slip from between his lips at the sight. You were going to be the death of him before he got his cock in you at this rate.

Sitting back, you laugh when Wonwoo wastes no time turning over on the bed so he can get back between your thighs. With no lace between him and your pussy this time, he shakes his head and lets out a slow breath, lowering himself down to press kisses to your thighs before running his tongue through your wet folds.

Wonwoo groans, his fingers gripping you tighter and pulling you closer to his mouth as he tastes you for the first time. Every worry disappears, along with every thought in his mind, as he focuses on you and nothing else. Wrapping his arm around your leg, Wonwoo adjusts himself on the bed, listening to your soft whimpering moans, driving him to make you feel even better.

You could already feel yourself tightening around nothing as Wonwoo sucked around your clit, his fingers pushing your folds apart, giving him access to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You wanted and needed more. The desire to be full of him overwhelms your brain just as much as your impending orgasm.

“Plea—Wonwoo… your fingers. I need something inside of me.”

You clearly had no idea how sexy your words were because, as soon as you spoke them, Wonwoo was trying not to thrust his hips into the mattress to find relief. Clawing at Wonwoo’s arm, you whimper his name doing your best to get what you want at your pace. Nodding, he groans, leaning back just enough to watch as he works a finger into you, feeling your tight walls suck him in. You weren’t even close to being able to handle his cock if he had to work for one finger.

“Baby… relax.”

Scoffing, you roll your hips down over Wonwoo’s finger as he nips at your folds, sending waves of pleasure through you. How did he expect you to relax with what was going on between your legs? Shooting him a contemptuous look, you watch as Wonwoo grins up at you before looking back at his fingers as he gently adds a second.

“You’ve given me that look before, princess. Right before you told me you hoped I lost my job as your bodyguard.”

Thrusting his fingers deep into you, Wonwoo watches you arch your back, a loud moan dripping off your lips like honey. There had been times before all of this, when he had been playing the part of your bodyguard when he had brief moments of weakness, picturing turning you over a surface and fucking some respect into you. If the man he was then could see him now. He imagined that man would not only be shocked at how much he had changed in such a short time, but he would probably be jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous to see your cum dripping down his palm towards his wrist as he continued to fuck you with his fingers?

“Yes, baby… Fuck—another one. Just like that. Cum all over my fingers; take another one.”

A third finger slips into you and you practically scream in pleasure at how full you feel. The first orgasm had made your thighs start to shake, but the second one had come on so quickly after the first that you were crying. Tears drip from your cheeks as you push your hips down over Wonwoo’s fingers until you can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation making you close your legs around his hand.

Giving you one more deep thrust of his fingers, Wonwoo presses his lips to your shin as he slowly and carefully slides his fingers from your warm, throbbing pussy. You were panting out your moans like a cat in heat and it was better than anything Wonwoo had ever seen or heard in his life. There was nothing staged that could measure up to you—no porn or even work of art that matched you.

Running his hands along your knees, Wonwoo meets your eyes as he works your legs apart, feeling them shake under his touch. He knew you were still sensitive, but his cock was aching for you. Resting between your legs, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling your wet folds against his shaft as he rocks his hips towards you. One more questioning look, asking for permission, and getting a frantic nod from you is all it takes for him to ease himself into you.

The feeling of Wonwoo inside of you is so much more than his fingers and it takes your breath away. Pressing your face against his neck, you gasp, feeling the stretch when he finally stops moving, his hips flush with yours. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo has to take a steady breath, feeling you clench around him, threatening to make him cum on the spot.

“Baby, breathe… Is it too much?”

Shaking your head, you cling to Wonwoo, afraid he will pull out and you’ll be empty again. You whine his name, leaning your head back onto the pillows, meeting his eyes. Searching your eyes for pain, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands to brush his thumb over your cheek as he waits patiently for you to adjust to him, though it takes every ounce of patience he has.

“Okay, just tell—tell me when I can move.”

Nodding quickly, you scratch at Wonwoo’s sides, hearing him hiss at the feeling. You were ready for him to move, but words were hard to form. You were finding it hard to think of anything other than him and the feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you. Lifting your hips, you moan his name and Wonwoo groans, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. Warm breath fans across your lips as he nods and whispers, “Okay,” before moving slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or himself too quickly.

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, more tears roll from your eyes to your temples at how good it feels to have Wonwoo inside of you. The way his cock stretches you so perfectly and how his head brushes over your spot each time pulls out enough to push right back into your warm walls.

“Please, please, Wonwoo, baby... faster.”

Your pleas come out as sobbing moans, causing Wonwoo to give you a concerned look, but as soon as he sees the fucked out look on your face, he can’t help but give you what you want. His thrusts become more urgent and harder. With each one, Wonwoo feels you get that much tighter around his cock until finally the coil inside you snaps. He had thought you were wet before but feeling your cum on his cock was an experience that Wonwoo knew he would never forget and it was enough to send him barreling over the edge after you.

Resting his head against your neck, Wonwoo curses under his breath, feeling his cum seep out of you, mixing with yours. He was usually much more careful than this, but he had gotten lost in the moment. Shaking his head, Wonwoo carefully slides out of you and meets your eyes full of guilt, only to find you still full of bliss.

“I didn’t even ask, baby. I’m sorry—”

Sliding your hand along Wonwoo’s jaw to his neck, you shake your head and close your eyes. You knew what had happened and what could come of it, but that wasn’t something that you could concern yourself with today. Right now, you are just happy to be alive and in bed with Wonwoo. It was the first time in possibly your entire life that you were this happy and you wouldn’t let him spoil it with guilt.

“Don’t... just tell me that you love me again.”

Unable to stop his lips from pulling up in a smile, Wonwoo shakes his head at your reaction to the situation. Moving to lay beside you, knowing neither of you could stay like this for long without taking a shower, he pulls you into his arms and presses his lips against your neck. You smile, wrapping your arms around his.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

This was the longest you had seen Wonwoo sleep. Even as you ran your fingers delicately along the bridge of his nose, he barely flinched. A smile pulls at your lips at the sight and at how warm and safe you feel lying next to him as the sun rises.

During the time that you had been awake, Wonwoo’s phone had gone off twice. You had a good feeling that the missed calls were from Park Bonhwa, but you couldn’t bear the thought of waking Wonwoo or checking his phone. There was a beautiful silence surrounding you both and not even that man could ruin it, as long as you didn’t let him.

Tracing the dip of Wonwoo’s cupid’s bow, you watch as his lips twitch into a soft smile and his eyes slowly open. It was selfish of you to touch Wonwoo so much when he was sleeping so soundly, but seeing his eyes on you and feeling the comfort of them made it worth it.

Pulling you into his arms, Wonwoo grunts softly at the feeling of your cold fingers sliding along his ribs. He could get used to this—waking up and seeing you first thing. He wanted to get used to it, but there were things that had to happen first.

“Mm, morning, baby. “

Lips press against the top of your head and you find yourself nuzzling against Wonwoo’s chest, not wanting to face anything in the real world. You like the way his deep voice sounds when you are so close to his body, the way it seems to vibrate in his chest. Resting your ear against his chest, you smile and bite at your bottom lip, hearing Wonwoo laugh.

“Don’t wanna get up?”

Shaking your head, you whine, and Wonwoo runs his long fingers along your back, stopping to draw small circles along your spine before tracing each notch on his way up to your neck. He understood the sentiment and wanted to give you what you wanted. He wanted to give you everything you wanted now.

“We need to talk about what comes next. Cheol is going to work on what we need for you to disappear, but he needs payment.”

There was always a catch to everything. That was something that you understood from a very young age. Everything came with a price. Your father never let you think that money grew on trees. Despite knowing you were incredibly wealthy and that you could potentially have anything you wanted, he made you earn his respect before he would give you any allowance or credit cards. Your father’s respect had cost the most out of anything you had ever paid for in your life. You will never forget the day you told your mother that you loved your father more than her and watched her face fall.

“Mmkay, how much money does he need?”

Wonwoo shakes his head at the mention of money. Of course your mind would go to money first; that was how your father had probably raised you. It wasn’t your fault that you were the way you were; Wonwoo understood that now. You were broken because you were carefully shattered piece by piece by your father over the course of your life.

“Not money, baby. Information. Trust me, this will be good for everyone in the end.” Smirking, Wonwoo lifts his hand from your back to scratch at his eyebrow as he scoffs at his own words, correcting them. “Almost everyone.”

Information was a currency you were familiar with; it just wasn’t something you commonly used. You have seen your father get rich off information plenty of times. Leaning your head back, you glance up at Wonwoo, furrowing your brows as he lifts his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek.

“About my father?”

The next couple of hours you spend against Wonwoo go through what you know about your father’s company. You tell him more about the business dinners and dates that he has set up for you over the years and though Wonwoo listens carefully, he seethes. Every new piece of information he leaves about your father makes him hate the man even more.

It’s when you get to your mother that you find it more difficult to talk with confidence. You find strength in Wonwoo’s touch, his hands gliding over your skin as his lips press to your forehead, taking in each word. Your sorrow at losing the one person who meant something to you, becomes Wonwoo’s sorrow when tears drip from your cheek onto his chest.

“Baby… I know this is too much. I’m sorry, we can talk more about the business side—”

“It’s okay. It’s his fault.” Rubbing your nose hard, you pull your legs under you, letting Wonwoo tuck you into his side. “I don’t know how, but I just know it is. She didn’t just die.”

There is no doubt in Wonwoo’s mind that you are right about your assumption. With as much life insurance that your father had placed on you, he could only imagine the amount he would put on a spouse.

“He kept reminding me after her funeral that I loved him more. He kept giving me gifts and all this money…”

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Wonwoo tries to picture you mourning and your brute of a father wooing you out of it with possessions. The cold woman who had treated her staff like trash was just a reflection of him.

“He’ll pay for that, Y/N. I promise.”

You nod along with Wonwoo’s words, though you don’t understand how he plans on making that happen. In your eyes, your father was bulletproof. He was a cliff face that you kept hitting as the waves pushed you around like you were nothing.

Tracing the shape of your bottom lip as you rest against his shoulder, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling concern wash over him. You had talked until you couldn’t anymore. Exhaustion had taken over you and not even having him next to you or food in your stomach was enough to keep your eyes open any longer. You looked calm like this—breathing softly against his bare skin—even as you squeezed your eyes shut a bit tighter in your sleep.

Wonwoo carefully slides his arm from under you, letting your cheek rest against his palm as he adjusts the pillow under your head. Now you look comfortable. He hated the idea of not having you in his arms, but there was much left to do. Giving you one more glance as he swipes his phone from the nightstand, Wonwoo opens the bedroom door and closes it before making his way downstairs.

Seungcheol was trying not to get antsy about his current situation, but the minutes were ticking by and it didn’t seem like you or Wonwoo were in a rush. So when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the detective lets out a sigh of relief, leaning against his car.

“I won’t lie, I had a few moments today when I thought you might be fucking me over.”

Smirking at Seungcheol’s words, Wonwoo uses his index finger to pull the blinds ever so slightly from the window so he can check the street out of habit.

“Just when we were starting to like one another?”

Getting behind the wheel of the Audi, Seungcheol scoffs and presses the button to start his car. The sooner he could be away from the station, the better, especially if this conversation was going to go where he imagined it to. Hearing the sound of the engine as Seungcheol wastes no time in pulling out of the parking garage, Wonwoo shakes his head, dropping the blinds back in place and lowering himself into a nearby armchair.

“I needed time to talk to Y/N. She’s the one with the most information, and she had plenty. Like I said, Cheol… you’ll get a promotion out of this.”

Seungcheol can’t stop himself from taking a deep breath in anticipation. If the information was as good as Wonwoo was alluding to, this could be the best decision he has ever made.

“I’m listening.”

“And I have terms.”

Of course he did. The good feeling that Seungcheol had for a fleeting moment sank right back into his chest with Wonwoo’s words. Leaning his head back against the leather headrest, Seungcheol tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes as he speaks.

“Again, I’m listening.”

Tilting his head, Wonwoo bites at his cheek out of a mixture of nerves and frustration. He knew that Seungcheol would be happy with what he had to tell him, but he had to make sure that you were taken care of. On top of that, he hadn’t known that he wanted to leave with you; that was a possible kink in the plan as far as Seungcheol might be concerned.

“New name, meaning all IDs.” Seungcheol groans in annoyance at Wonwoo’s request; it was what he had assumed, but as soon as he starts to speak, he is cut off and rendered speechless. “For both of us.”

“I—”

Picking at a loose string on the chair, Wonwoo listens to Seungcheol struggle to make heads or tails of what he had just asked of him before he continues.

“Money; we both know she can’t keep her accounts. We will need a safe flight out of Korea.”

With his head spinning at all Wonwoo was asking of him, Seungcheol pulls his car over, putting it in park, before letting out an unamused laugh.

“I—well fuck… anything else? Would you like for me to make her the Queen of England while I’m at it?” The amusement fades from his voice as he smacks at his dashboard. “Why are you asking for impossible things? How in the hell am I going to get you out of Korea?”

“Figure it out, Seungcheol! Or are you not interested in bringing down her piece of shit father?”

Throwing up his hands, Seungcheol scoffs in disbelief, unsure what could be worth giving up, Jeon Wonwoo.

“For what? Some shady trading? The insurance policy? Give me something better than that or I’m gonna bring both of your asses in.”

“Embezzlement, laundering, and possible murder.”

Every snide comment and scoff that Seungcheol has been giving Wonwoo stops when he hears those words.

“If—can she prove it?”

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo digs his nail into his thumb, feeling frustrated with Seungcheol and the entire situation. You shouldn't have to prove anything. It was practically being laid out for him, but he understood that some horses had to be led to water.

“Y/N said there is a lawyer, Son Hyunwoo. Pay him enough and he’ll spill everything.”

Typing the name into his phone and keeping Wonwoo on speaker in his car, Seungcheol nods, looking over the practice that Son Hyunwoo belongs to and some of his more prevalent clients. To the general public, his client list looked like a billboard for great service and reliability, but to a good detective, it screamed corruption.

“This is good. If he talks, I’ll get you what you need. I’ll be in touch.”

Wonwoo runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath when the phone disconnects. He hoped for your sake, more than his own, that you were right.

— Two Days Later —

Bonhwa glares at his phone, seeing Wonwoo’s name. The man had been avoiding him like it was his job and now, just as he was about to have the dogs on his heels, he decided it was a good time to call. Gritting his teeth, Bonhwa answers his phone while pushing the heel of his hand under his nose to clean the white powder from it with a loud sniff.

“Wanna make this easier on everyone by bringing her to my office? I promise I won’t kill you; just break something.”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo had already prepared for Park Bonhwa’s empty threats. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore than he was afraid of a dog without teeth. He knew that Bonhwa couldn’t find him, which means he couldn’t find you. With time, if the two of you stayed in Seoul, he might get a sniff on a trail, but that wasn’t happening.

“I’ve been busy. Why are you so fuckin’ grumpy?”

Watching Seungcheol load a suitcase into the trunk of the car as he talks to you, Wonwoo furrows his brows, hearing Bonhwa’s voice go up an octave. He knew he was pushing his buttons, but he had a reason. There was always a reason behind what Wonwoo did.

“Why—why am I? You stupid son of a bitch! Half! I get half when I deliver proof of that bitch’s body to Hyong. Do you know how humiliating—”

Hearing Wonwoo sigh, Bonhwa stops mid sentence to stare at the desk in front of him. He had half a mind to get in his car right now and search the entire city for Jeon Wonwoo. Feeling his phone vibrate in his hand, he furrows his brow and lets out a disgruntled sound, ready to continue telling Wonwoo off when Wonwoo speaks first.

“Check your email. It’s done… makes no fucking sense to drive around with a body.”

Your eyes follow Wonwoo as he paces talking to Bonhwa, you barely hear Seungcheol talking to you. Noticing you aren’t understanding what he’s telling you, the man steps in front of you, obscuring your view.

“Can we finish our conversation now, Y/N? He’s fine. He’s taking care of what he needs to, so let’s go over the rest of this shit.”

You weren’t sure how you felt about Choi Seungcheol. You could see why he had been the one who had gotten close to Wonwoo, he was tenacious and abrasive. Nodding, you watch as Seungcheol lifts his brows and leans to take a folder out of his car, showing it to you.

“ID, passport, some cash... Wonwoo knows how to get more when it’s needed. This won’t be like the pampered life you had before, so—”

“You don’t know anything about me, Seungcheol.”

In the short time that he had known you, Seungcheol had heard you speak a handful of times. You had to let Wonwoo speak for you or at least let him carry the conversations. To say that he perhaps had a skewed view of you based on what he knew about your father and researching you, would be an understatement.

“Maybe not, but I’m just saying... make it last. Keep your mouth shut.”

Holding out your hand for the folder, you lock eyes with Seungcheol as he places it in yours.

“I’m not stupid.”

A smirk pulls at one side of the detective’s lips at your words. That he did know. There was no way Wonwoo would put this much effort into keeping you alive if you were. Letting go of the folder, Seungcheol takes a step back and glances back to Wonwoo as he grunts, bending the phone in his hand with some effort. The screen shatters first and then the metal gives way, effectively destroying the device before he tosses it towards the river, listening to the dull thud when it hits the surface.

“That bullshit is done. He’s satisfied with what you came up with.”

Scoffing, Seungcheol shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling a bit offended at the insinuation that anyone wouldn’t be satisfied with his work. He had gone above and beyond for this. You had been lucky that the information you had provided for him had been the best he had received in a long time. It had served as motivation for what Seungcheol saw as a work of art.

“Yeah? Well maybe you should have dealt with pulling a Jane Doe out of the morgue.”

Wonwoo exhales an unamused laugh, sliding his hand around your waist. He knew that Seungcheol had worked hard and he appreciated it. He could almost taste freedom and it was a strange sensation.

“No thanks. I’ll leave that to the professionals.” Leaning to kiss the side of your head, Wonwoo gives you a once over before glancing back at the car, seeing it packed. “Ready to go?”

You had no idea where you and Wonwoo were going. He and Seungcheol told you that in case things went south, it was better for you to know less. While you understood that, it still made leaving your entire life behind even more terrifying. Still, as you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, seeing that reassuring look in them, you manage to nod.

“Perfect, can’t wait to get you both out of my hair.��

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s words, knowing that while he was trying to crack a joke, there was a layer of truth to them, especially concerning himself.

“Don’t worry, Cheol. We won’t darken your doorstep again.”

Taking a step backwards, towards his own car, Seungcheol points at Wonwoo as he speaks.

“I’ll fuckin’ hold you to it. Show your face around here again and I’ll throw your ass in a cell.”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo turns his attention back to you, reaching to open the passenger's side door. He lets you sit down as he looks down at you, much like he did a week ago under much different circumstances.

“Where are we going, Wonwoo?”

You watch curiously as he tilts his head and purses his lips, trying to think of how to tell you the answer without actually answering it.

“Did you pack a bikini?”

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