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starlightkyeom · 8 months ago

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34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | jww

(your latest assignment has you jetting off to argentina hoping to finally catch the infamous art thief that's escaped your agency one too many times already. you know what's at stake if you lose your focus. enter the beautiful stranger that has you questioning everything you know.)

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader genre: strangers to lovers, (kinda, v light) enemies to lovers | smut, fluff, angst rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~22.8k (idk what happened) warnings: art thief!wonwoo, secret agent!reader, brief mentions of death & bloody past (again, reader is a secret agent), mentions of past violence, mentions of weapons, food, drinking, VERY ambiguous ending smut warnings: multiple smut scenes, multiple positions, unprotected sex (don't do this), slightly rough sex, mild dom!wonwoo?, fingering, oral sex, choking, spanking, multiple orgasms, squirting, light marking, semi-public sex, food play (whipped cream, chocolate), i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's world tour collab (check out the other fics here). i had so much fun writing this even if it got away from me a bit. thanks to @effortandmore for lending me her art brain. thanks to @highvern for constantly listening to me and @multi-kpop-fanfics for fit inspo. and as always, thank you to my bby @wongyuseokie for the banner & divider.

edited to add: i am considering an epilogue if that’s something anyone is interested in

tag list: @wonustars, @minisugakoobies, @crepecakeu, @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @amoryeonjun, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizoon, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @naajaeminsgf, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @pyeonghongrie-main, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @sdoulc, @wonwootakemyheart, @divinityyyy, @nightshadeinmoonlight, @imma-queencard, @jelly-n

“We’ll be landing in about 45 minutes, according to the pilot,” a voice says, interrupting your laser-like focus.

You look up from your tablet and blink at him for a second. It takes you a moment or two to register he’s even standing there. Another moment to register what he actually said to you a second ago. In the meantime, you switch the program open on your tablet.

“Oh, thanks,” you say in response.

He sits down in the seat opposite you and fixes you with a smile. “Must be a good book, you’ve barely looked up for the entire flight.”

“Guilty,” you say with a practiced smile.

Chan, you think that’s his name, seems nice enough. A little overeager and too ready to agree to something when his bosses tell him what to do. There’s that real thirst to prove himself. But, at least from what you hear, he’s got a bright future. He’s done well with what he’s been given so far, which are increasingly difficult assignments. You can see why. He’s easy on the eyes and he’s got that soft smile down. The kind of unassuming smile that makes people want to trust him. If he can keep it up, he’ll go far.

“Thanks again for letting me catch a ride,” you say to fill some of the space between you.

Chan only shrugs. “Any friend of Mr. Choi’s is always welcome. Plus, nobody really says no when the boss says something.”

A lesser person would have probably laughed at that. Hearing him referred to as Mr. Choi and the boss is a little comical to you. Not that it isn’t true because he is definitely Chan’s boss. It’s just, well, it’s a little more complicated than that.

“Honestly I don’t really even understand what Cheol does,” you lie and turn on a little bit of the charm. It’s always good to practice on people that are trained to be charming themselves.

“Do you call him that?” Chan wonders.

“Call him what? Cheol?” you ask and Chan nods, eyes a little wide. It catches him just off guard enough. “Yeah, but I’ve known him for years. What do you call him?”

“Sir, usually,” Chan answers too quickly. You can’t fully fight the smile that answer brings to your lips. “Glad to see I entertained you.”

“He’s not nearly as bad as I’m sure he seems at work,” you say like you’re sharing a secret.

The truth is that you’ve been hearing about this new agent that Seungcheol is personally training for over a year now. So, you know that eventually, you’re going to all be laughing at this conversation in hindsight and he’ll also be calling his boss Cheol. For now, though, things are a little bit different.

“He mentioned that you were heading down to do some research?” he asks and you nod.

This part has always been a little tedious to you, the part where you come up with a cover story that you even have to feed to other people within the same organization. It’s been this way for your entire career. You were recruited at 18 years old and went through special training along with obtaining a degree. The Agency had two divisions, but you only ever learned about the second one if you were recruited to work there. It was that second division you joined right away.

Training had been grueling. If it wasn’t some kind of physical endurance training, it was sitting in a windowless room studying history or a foreign language. Or it was combat training with whatever weapon was on deck that day. Or working to blend into any situation. You quickly learned that did not mean not being memorable. At least not in every situation. Sometimes that meant looking at ease in your surroundings even if eyes were on you. Thankfully, the charm seemed to come naturally to you and that was one less thing you had to worry about learning.

The Agency officially works in maintaining international relationships between countries. That can mean a number of different things. Sometimes it involves an agent or team heading out to a location as official representatives. They can help with negotiation, security concerns, smoothing out issues, anything really. Unofficially, it often involves going undercover on a mission. That can involve either division, depending on the sensitivity of the mission. If it’s simpler, then someone like Chan gets sent out to work his way into a situation and influence the outcome so that everything stays calm. In fact, he’s here to charm a wealthy heiress that’s getting a little too close to revealing confidential information on government contracts.

You, on the other hand, are officially here to study Argentinian culture and immerse yourself in local traditions. Chan doesn’t know that you work for The Agency as well. He doesn’t know that Seungcheol is like a boss to you. It’s not his preference. Seungcheol misses the days when he was by your side in the field instead of stuck in the office behind a desk. Unfortunately, several years ago he suffered a severe injury that just made field work impossible for him. It took a lot of convincing, most of which fell on your shoulders as the person closest to him, to get him to transition to his current role. Where you had never set foot in the main offices, he had been there periodically. He was known to people there. And he was so insanely smart that you pointed out he would be bored trying to assimilate into regular life. Why not get to do one of his other favorite things and tell younger agents (or even older ones) what to do? That had been the biggest selling point because he was good at being in charge. It had been a bit of a rocky transition at first, but now it’s smooth sailing.

Unofficially, you’re here tracking one of the most infamous art thieves in the world. This is the kind of thing that has to be handled with the utmost secrecy. Other agencies and your own have tried to track him down and apprehend him only to have him slip into the wind. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d assume that there had been leaks during the previous attempts. You’ve also considered that he’s just really good at making a mark and blending into his surroundings. This is one of the most secretive missions you’ve ever been sent on despite seeming relatively innocuous. How much harm can an art thief really cause, right? Except, The Agency is largely funded by private investors and several of those investors have been victims and had art stolen. Despite that, the only people that know you’re making this attempt now are Seungcheol and the head of covert operations. His counterpart doesn’t know that you’re handling it, or even who you are. Instead, the main division of The Agency has a team headed to Amsterdam thinking that they’re after the notorious thief.

Although it seems like it should be straight forward, this thief has been working in the shadows for years without anyone really knowing what he looks like beyond him being a man. The reports about what he actually looks like vary so greatly that nobody really knows what to believe. You and Seungcheol have spent months trying to put together a profile that seems most realistic and you feel as comfortable as you can. His appearance seems a little elusive, but the information that he’s going to be in Buenos Aires is the best lead you’ve gotten. It comes from someone that you worked with on a previous mission. You had been studying your profiles when Chan came over and quickly exited to a different application.

“I am. I’m working on understanding the history of Argentinian culture through the eyes of Buenos Aires for a project,” you say with all the affection of someone who was actually going to be doing that. “I’m going to spend most of my time just out talking to people, learning their stories, that kind of thing.”

“Do you, uh, speak Spanish?” Chan wonders with clear apprehension.

“I do,” you say with a light laugh. “Be a bit awkward if I didn’t, right?”

“That’s impressive,” he says.

“I speak several languages,” you say nonchalantly and then make a show of catching his eye. “I studied language and culture in university.”

“You’re not what I’d imagine for one of my boss’s friends,” Chan admits. “Especially one close enough to get added to the manifest.”

You shrug. “I’ve known him for a long time.”

“He doesn’t strike me as someone with a lot of time for friendships or someone that you can ever really know,” Chan presses and you laugh.

“Married to the job, right?” you agree. “I’m a low maintenance friend. I spend a lot of time out of town for research, immersed in local culture. We’ve probably got more in common that you’d think.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” he concedes, seeming to easily buy your cover. He stands up. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

The rest of the flight goes smoothly and you say your goodbyes to Chan and the others from the flight once you get off the plane. As is the plan, you take your suitcases to a local taxi and head to your hotel, checking in under one of the many fake names you used when on a mission. The room is nice, too, even if it’s nothing all that extravagant. It’s just another part of the cover.

Since it’s been a long day, you figure that you might as well just order room service and settle in for the night. It’ll give you the chance to start getting your body used to the local timezone. Not that your body really has a home timezone anymore with how you’re constantly on the move. But, you still don’t mind the idea of resting for the night.

You’re incredibly thankful to be in Buenos Aires in July since it’s the coolest month. It makes it easier for you to just walk everywhere. Before leaving your room for your first full day in your new city, you double check your messenger bag to make sure everything is in there: camera, multiple lenses, journal, tablet and keyboard, sunglasses, wallet, and all your little bits to make it look like a bag you wear all the time. You smile at the receptionist on your way out, letting her know that you’re going off to explore what the city has to offer. She seems happy to see that you look better rested than after your long travel day. Even if heading out is mostly a cover for your mission, it’s also a little true. This city has been on your bucket list to visit for years and you’re not going to waste what might be your only opportunity to explore. It might even make it more believable as you’re trying to blend into the crowds around you.

After spending several hours wandering around and taking in everything you could, you find yourself at a local cafe in the early afternoon to have a cup of coffee and a light lunch. The whole morning flew by in a rush of colors and culture. It’s so easy to be interested in everything that’s before you because it’s just so vibrant. So full of life. Such a juxtaposition of history, tradition, and new influences. It’s one of the first times you’ve been somewhere and had to remind yourself that you are actually on a mission. You’re not just there to sightsee and fall in love.

There are a lot of tourists in the cafe, which doesn’t really surprise you. Most places in Buenos Aires stay open during the afternoon for tourism, but you know that cafes in smaller towns would close. You figure that most locals probably avoid shops during this time of day as well. It feels lucky when you spot an open table in the corner until another patron moves and you see there’s actually someone sitting in one of the seats. It’s an uncharacteristically awkward moment for you, especially given how confident you are with everything else, that he catches you mid-decision. His eyes meet yours before looking at the coffee in one hand and the plate in the other. When he looks back down at the table, it clicks into place before you can turn around.

“You, uh, can sit…” he starts with deliberate slowness that shouldn’t be throwing you off even more.

You shake your head to clear it and smile. “It’s fine, I don’t just speak Spanish.”

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “Well, you can sit here.”

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say and go to turn around.

“It’s busy. Are you going to just eat standing up?” he asks with a challenging raise of his eyebrow.

“Well,” you start.

“I probably won’t be here much longer anyway,” he offers.

Reluctantly, you move to sit down with him. It’s kind of insane the way he’s thrown you off your game by just existing. Usually, you’re the one that’s disarming strangers with your charm, not the other way around. As soon as you sit down, he looks back at the book he has open in front of him. It gives you a chance to figure out if he’s actually that attractive that it’s thrown you off or if you’re still just jet-lagged.

His glasses slide down a nearly too perfect nose and he pushes them up without missing a beat. His black hair is a little messy and a little long, falling carelessly around his face as he gets lost in whatever book he has open in front of him. His clothes make him look a little too fancy to be sitting in a cafe overrun with tourists like this. Somehow, he makes a cardigan over a dress shirt with nice, pressed slacks work without looking like he’s trying too hard. Everything about him just exudes calm, confident energy. Like the kind of person you would assume comes from old money. Unassuming, yet standing out without even meaning to. It reminds you of some of the landmarks you saw that morning, like rich history perfectly combined with modern needs.

Thankfully, at least some of your training kicks back in and you manage to keep it from being too obvious that you’re one step away from fully checking him out. Your new tablemate seems content to sit in silence, though, so you pick at your food while going through some of the pictures on your camera. Today is about getting the lay of the land as much as anything else. It’s not like you can just find your infamous art thief without knowing where to look.

“I’m sure you got some great shots,” he says, drawing your attention again. When you look up, his eyes are on your camera.

“Oh, yeah, it’s so hard to really capture the feeling of something through a camera, but I definitely try,” you say.

“I saw you at The Obelisk and I thought, I’ve never seen someone so focused in my entire life,” he says, except now he’s looking at you.

“There must have been thousands of people there. How did you pick me out?” you ask with a laugh.

The mystery man shrugs. “Like I said, you were focused. And not in the way a lot of influencers who travel for the perfect picture are. I knew that it was more than that for you.”

“It is,” you agree. “I’m studying the history and the culture down here. Just got in last night.”

“Can I see the picture you landed on?” he ventures.

You hesitate. Your pictures are good, sure, but you’re not actually doing anything that serious when you’re down here. Since it’s supposed to be part of your cover, you should feel confident. After a moment, you hand your camera over to him with your favorite picture in the display window.

“Be kind. My focus is language and history first, not photography,” you toss out. Another layer to the cover. It’s convenient, though. Not that you expected to be talking to someone like him about photography.

“This is amazing,” he says and seems earnest. “Can I look through the rest?”

Again, you pretend to consider. This time it’s for the sake of the persona you’re committing to. It’s not like there’s anything on there from before today since it’s a fresh SD card.

“I promise to be kind,” he presses and you roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you say and he smiles.

It’s hard not to notice the amount of care he uses while handling your camera. Maybe he knows something about photography and realizes it’s an expensive model. Or maybe he’s just gentle with something that clearly means a lot to someone else. It’s also easier to feel like you can appreciate things about him when his attention is somewhere else. Like he won’t notice the way your eyes map his features, noting the furrow in his brows or how smooth his skin is. Or the way his hair seems absolutely perfect without any product in it. None of it seems fair that he should just get to walk around looking like that.

“I’m surprised not to find a picture of myself on here,” he starts and it pulls you from your thoughts. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’s secretly self-centered, until you meet his eyes and see the glint there. “You know, with how you’ve been studying me.”

“I appreciate beauty wherever I see it,” you answer, trying to channel more boldness than you feel.

“Are you saying I’m beautiful?” he questions, entirely too at-ease.

“I don’t think you need confirmation on that,” you scoff and look out the window. “Besides, it wasn’t me that noticed you earlier.”

“A shame for me,” he muses. “I appreciate beautiful things as well.”

He hands your camera back with his eyes locked on you. It makes your skin feel a little flushed and you hate it. Hate that you’re always able to keep your cool in any situation and still so completely disarmed by this man. Hate that it’s him that breaks the moment, too, when he looks down at the expensive watch on his wrist with a sigh.

“Late for something?” you venture.

“Something like that,” he agrees and puts his book away in a bag you hadn’t noticed. “I’m glad you sat down though.”

“Me too,” you admit a little too quickly as he’s standing up.

“Enjoy your afternoon, beautiful stranger,” he says and you twist around.

“Wait, I didn’t get your name,” you call and he stops by the door. The smile he throws your way sends a tingle down your spine.

“I hope we’ll run into each other again, then,” he says.

And just like that, he’s gone. Slips into the crowd like he wasn’t even there in the first place. It makes you wonder, just for a second, if the entire exchange actually happened. Until you look back at the table and see the cup of coffee he had been drinking. Beside it, you notice a small piece of paper advertising a new installation at one of the local art museums. Not entirely out of the question, you think, for someone visiting this city and also interested in seeing your camera.

It’s then that you remind yourself why you’re actually here. You shake your head to clear it of any thoughts of the stranger, knowing you can’t make any effort to run into him again. The mission is the only thing that matters. Getting close to someone that could distract you in that way is not part of the plan. So, you can appreciate the banter and get back on track.

The next few days pass relatively uneventfully. You continue to explore the city while always keeping your eyes and ears open for any indication of the art thief. It’s a little frustrating to not have much to go on, but you’re also one of the most patient agents and you know it’ll pay off eventually. Seungcheol keeps in regular contact, sending along each new nugget of information he’s able to find. Even if they’re seemingly insignificant, you file them all away, appreciating how hard you know he’s working given how few people know about the mission. He has to pull the relevant pieces to send to you without tipping off the team in Amsterdam.

You’re also splitting your days. Making sure to get out to experience the local culture to maintain your cover, while spending just as much time locked away in your room so that you can do your own research. Everything points to him already being in the city as well. It also seems like this next heist might be two-fold for him. It appears that he’s got a client that wants a specific piece of art and that he’s also going to steal some pieces for himself to sell at later dates. It’s a bit unusual, from what you’ve been able to tell. He usually likes to keep each job simple to reduce the likelihood of getting caught. Then again, he’s been active for years and doing just fine.

Today you decide to go to check out a museum that you’ve been putting off. It’s silly, but you didn’t want to show up there the day after that cafe since it seemed a little convenient to leave behind. You have to familiarize yourself with all the museums in the city, though, and it seems like this one could be your thief’s target. It has just the right amount of traffic. Just the right combination of popular pieces with lesser known artists.

Once you’re there, you immediately move away from the popular sections. That’s not the kind of art you’re after because it’s not the kind of art the thief ever steals. It’s too recognizable. Too hard to move. Just too risky. Once you’re in a quieter part of the museum, you fight off any feelings of being a fraud. Art has never really been your strong suit. If it weren’t for this mission being so sensitive, you definitely would not be the first agent anyone would choose. But, it is sensitive and so you have to rely on your training to carry you through any conversations that might pop up. You have to rely on the hours spent pouring over lectures about the different styles and influences, the different periods, different techniques. Hopefully your talent at rote memorization will serve you well.

“It’s a shame they keep one of the best artists tucked away in a corner like this,” a voice says from your side, pulling you from your thoughts.

You answer without even thinking much about the voice or even turning to see the person who appeared next to you nearly soundlessly. “Makes it easier to appreciate in peace, though.”

“You like surrealism, then?” he asks and it’s only then that you notice something familiar about the voice or the manner of speaking. Or the fact that he’s not speaking to you in Spanish.

Before you even turn to your side, you know who you’re going to find. He’s looking just as put together and at-ease as he did several days ago in the cafe. His hands rest in his pockets, but his eyes on you are sharp. There’s something a little hard to read about him, you think.

The smile you give him is practiced, designed to seem genuine. “I like Leonor Fini.”

“You’ve got good taste,” he says and turns back to the piece.

“I do like surrealism,” you carry on, turning back to the piece yourself as well, “but, with her work, I really appreciate the way she used female subjects through a female lens. Too many artists…”

You trail off, pretending you’re unsure if you should continue. He falls into the setup easily. “Men could only show female subjects through their own eyes, but women look different through the eyes of other women.”

“Exactly,” you say and smile at him before turning back to the painting again. “There’s something so captivating about the work she did.”

“I agree. That’s why this is my favorite piece here and in my favorite section of works,” he says confidently.

“You already have a favorite?” you joke.

“Well, I’ve been here every day for the past several days,” he shares.

This makes you turn to him fully. “Because you love this section and this work so much?”

This mysterious man actually looks down like he’s embarrassed to admit whatever he’s about to tell you. Like he’s gotten shy for a moment. “I do, but I was actually hoping to run into you.”

That catches you a bit off guard and it takes your brain a minute to remember, once again, you’re here on a mission. “It would have been easier to run into me if you just asked for my number.”

“Kind of ruins this whole mysterious thing I have going on, though,” he shrugs.

You roll your eyes and extend your hand, giving him your fake name for the mission. His eyes sparkle for a second before he takes your hand.

“Wonwoo,” he answers.

“Nice to finally get your name,” you tease.

“I figured you’d come check out the museum when I left the card there at the cafe,” Wonwoo says.

“I knew that was on purpose,” you mumble.

“Yet you didn’t come until today,” he observes.

“I wasn’t trying to make it easy on you,” you throw out quickly.

“Okay, time to switch tactics, then,” he says. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“I’m not sure, can you?” you ask.

“Please let me take you to dinner,” he says.

It’s a bad idea and you know it. Everything about him screams distraction. This isn’t what you’re in Buenos Aires to do. Yet, there’s something about him that has you curious. There’s also the fact that this museum seems to be the most likely target for the art thief and this man admitted he’s been here every day. A small part of your brain is sending up alarm signals to keep an eye on him. He doesn’t seem like a secret art thief, but hasn’t your training taught you how to hide in plain sight? It’s entirely possible he’s doing the same.

Your brain goes into overdrive as it often does on missions. There are a million little details in the pages of your profile on the art thief. They come flooding back to you. The profile so thoughtfully pieced together by The Agency says he’s probably unassuming. The kind of man that fits into any situation in the same way as you do, like he’s not trying to fit in and it means he doesn’t stand out as not belonging. The profile suggests that he’s confident. That he would appear calm. Most importantly, he’s the kind of person that would absolutely look at home in the midst of art. So, whether it’s a good idea or not, you know you’re going to say yes. He must see the answer in your eyes before you voice it because he smirks.

“What time?”

Wonwoo offers to pick you up at your hotel, but you insist that you’ll meet him at the restaurant. It’s safer that way, after all, being a woman traveling alone. At least that’s what you tell him. Not that anything about Wonwoo seems that threatening and you’re better equipped to handle yourself than most. You just don’t need him anywhere near your room even with everything put away. After going back to get ready, you made time to pour over the information you have. The more you consider it, the more it seems plausible that he could be exactly who you’re looking for. There’s only one issue: he asked you out. Everything you have suggests that he made agents in the past and slipped into the wind. You’re not cocky enough to think you’re too good to fall victim to the same fate. You keep your update to Seungcheol vague in case the lead doesn’t pan out.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo picks a nice place off the beaten path for dinner. It’s not overrun with tourists and it’s not too expensive. Like him, it’s unassuming but quietly impressive. You try not to let your heart skip a beat when you see him in a simple white dress shirt and black dress pants. He stands to pull your seat out for you and then settles back into his seat across from you. This is for the sake of the mission. Either he’s the person you’re looking for or you’ll have enjoyed a free and tasty meal. Nothing more to it.

His Spanish, it turns out, isn’t that great and so you help him through ordering since it’s definitely a place more for the locals. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to get your help. You’re not really sure you mind either way. He makes suggestions about which wines he prefers, but ultimately lets you pick, insisting that he will take care of whatever you land on. Once you get through ordering and all the small talk, it gives you a chance to really get to know him.

“Have you been here before?” you ask.

“This restaurant or this city?” he asks.

“Either,” you shrug.

“No to both,” he answers. “Clearly, my Spanish is a bit rusty. I’m so lucky that I found someone who’s so fluent.”

“I’m not sure I believe you can’t speak the language,” you muse.

“I can speak enough Spanish to get by, but it’s not that good,” he assures you.

“Interesting place to visit, then,” you observe.

“I’d miss out on a lot of beauty if I only went where I spoke the language fluently,” he retorts and you smile genuinely at that. He’s right.

“Like the art in the museum?” you suggest.

“Or a charming stranger,” he counters. You’re impressed. “I do like the art as well, though.”

“What other beautiful places have you visited?” you ask.

“Oh, I hardly think it’s that interesting,” he dismisses.

“Humor me,” you say.

There’s a moment where he’s careful in listing off places. Like he’s weighing something that you can’t really place. He ends up listing some places that catch your attention. Each of them has some wonderful art museums and it piques your curiosity. You try to look just politely interested, commenting on how he’s lucky to be able to travel as extensively as he seems to. He plays it off with a vague comment about being fortunate with help from his family. It’s the kind of thing that you know passes on a first date. It’s not appropriate to mention money on a first date. So, that would be fine, if it didn’t also make you curious about who this man really was. After all, your art thief being well connected through family would definitely make sense.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, you try to enjoy it. Not that it’s hard to do. Wonwoo is actually a lot of fun to be around. The conversation flows easily and you’re able to connect on a lot of shared interests. At least, interests that you pretend to have for the sake of this mission. But, it feels like he might also be pretending on some of his interests. He’s just a little too calm and put together. A little too quick with his answers. A little too rehearsed with his comments. Maybe you wouldn’t think twice if you weren’t doing the same.

By the time you finish the main course, you’re pretty sure that you managed to stumble into a date with the exact person that you’re here looking for based on his stories. It may have been a guess before. It feels nearly for sure now. He mentions how you have to visit Japan when the cherry blossoms are blooming, which sounds stunning. He mentions Oktoberfest in Munich and how he barely remembers anything from that trip. Then there's the ice festival in China, Nordlysfestivalen in Norway, and a few other locations that sound beautiful. They also have one thing in common. Each place is also on your list for stolen art around the time of the events.

Once you finish dessert, you’re making a decision that you know you should really clear with someone else before making. Sure, you’re pretty sure that Wonwoo is the art thief. And yes, it’s true that keeping an eye on him is in your best interest. One way to do that is to continue with the date. Yet, you’re not stopping to check in with Seungcheol. You’re not analyzing the pros and cons of doing this. After giving Seungcheol a vague update about a lead and promising you’ll have more information later on, he should be the first person you call. He’s not swept up in the atmosphere of a foreign city with a gorgeous stranger. No, you don’t do any of that. You’re just agreeing to go back to his room with him without a second thought. He’s painfully hot and you’re incredibly attracted to him, which is wildly unprofessional. But, you’re not sure you care. At least for the night. You can figure it all out later.

Wonwoo is quietly confident without being cocky. His gaze is so penetrating that it feels like he’s undressing you without it being slimy. He can hold a conversation about seemingly anything, but he’s also just as interested in what you have to say. In fact, you have his attention the whole night, regardless of anything else going on. It’s a little overwhelming to have someone so focused on you. But, when it feels a little overwhelming, he makes a perfectly timed, slightly sarcastic joke that makes you laugh harder than you should. The smile you wear all throughout the date is genuine. You’re actually enjoying yourself so much that you’re not sure you want it to end. Life has never felt so simultaneously complicated and easy.

Wonwoo’s lips are hot on yours as he cages you against the door of his hotel room. That intensity you saw all dinner reappears and you feel like you might burn under his touch. He’s so in control. You’re still not entirely sure how you wound up here, but you’re not really trying to think too hard about it. The fact that he’s almost definitely the art thief becomes an issue for future-you the second he kisses you like it’s your last day on Earth. It’s not like he knows you’re tracking his movements and it isn’t exactly a bad thing to keep a closer eye on him. Nor is it the first time you’ve done something like this. It is the first time you’ve done it without thought, though, and genuinely been interested in the man you let seduce you.

He has his body pressed against yours with his arms on either side of you so there really is nowhere to go. It’s kind of hot and you’re not even pretending to be turned on. A definite bonus. Your hands quickly undo his belt so that you can pull the edges of his shirt out. The moment your hands make contact with his skin, he pulls away and hisses. They’re likely cold, not that you care. It gives you the chance to catch his lower lip between your teeth. You watch his eyes darken with lust as you run your hands up his back, scratching down lightly.

“Just who do you think is in control here, baby?” His voice is so low in your ear that it makes you swallow hard. Everything about the endearment sounds sarcastic and it shouldn’t work, but you’re only human. Then he nips at your earlobe and you actually moan.

“What are you going to do about it?” you challenge. It feels like a lot of heat between you. If your head were clearer, you might consider that it feels like two people who know they shouldn’t be fucking. Almost like he’s punishing you a little, which he might want to, given why you’re here.

“That’s a dangerous question,” he warns you.

“Afraid I can’t handle it?” you ask and watch the way it nearly breaks his composure. You press forward into him, pulling him down so his ear is by your mouth now. Barely raise your voice above a whisper. “I’m not that fragile. I can handle a little pain.”

That seems to set him off. You’re worried for a second when he pulls away, but that disappears as you watch his nimble fingers rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt. He casts it aside and looks back at you.

“I want you stripped naked and on the bed,” he commands.

You’re not typically in the habit of taking commands but something about him makes you want to listen. Even if you want to challenge him a little. He turns his back and you do strip down. Mostly. You climb onto the bed wearing only your panties, legs spread open and waiting for him. When he turns around, you miss the flare of his nostrils at your defiance looking at his muscles. For someone so unassuming, he was certainly in good shape.

“Is this your idea of naked?” he questions.

It’s funny, since he’s still got his boxer briefs on, though they leave little to the imagination. You can already see that he’s getting hard from the lead up.

“I thought I’d leave that honor for you,” you say, injecting as much innocence as you can muster into every word.

Wonwoo looks at you for another long second before climbing onto the bed and getting between your legs. He pushes them further open and you bite down on your lip.

“You don’t get to muffle those moans from me, sweetheart,” he teases, running a hand up the inside of your thigh.

“Or what?” you challenge again.

He raises an eyebrow at you and pulls his hand away from your thigh. You’re about to whine when he brings it back in a sharp slap.

“Shit,” you hiss.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks. You nod with big eyes. “Use your words.”

“Fuck, yes, I liked it,” you rush out the second his finger traces a light line up your clothed cunt.

“I can tell,” he snarks. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be,” you insist. He pulls his hand away and looks at you surprisingly soft for a second.

“Tell me if it is,” he repeats.

“I will,” you promise.

“Good,” he says and hooks his fingers inside the band of your panties, pulling them down your legs and casting them aside in one motion. “That’s better.”

In another surprise, Wonwoo doesn’t dive right into your cunt the way you expect him to given how frenzied everything has been so far. Instead, he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh. Pausing occasionally to nip into the skin before running his tongue over the mark to soothe it. You’re writhing on the bed by the time his breath ghosts across your cunt. The chuckle is low and deep as you squirm when he moves to your other thigh. You’re going to die before he even touches you.

“Jesus fuck, Wonwoo, if you don’t start eating me out…” you start, a hand winding into his hair.

He pops up and glares at you. “You’ll what? Did you already forget who’s in charge?”

“I’ll…” you start, before cutting off with a sharp, “FUCK!”

He’s still got his eyes on you when his thumb runs quickly through your folds to press against your clit. There’s barely any movement but it anchors you in place. “That’s what I thought.”

His kisses up your other thigh are much sloppier with a thumb still in place. It only makes you squirm more, searching for some kind of relief. When he finally gets to your lips, you expect he’s going to tease you again. You’re wrong. Again. His tongue dives into your pussy while his other hand keeps you spread open. This man knows what he’s doing and it’s immediately more than you’re expecting. You can’t stop your legs from snapping closed to box him in. That is, until he pulls his hands off you to spread your legs wide again, giving him the best access to you. It’s clear that he’s in charge and he wants you to know it.

It’s everything you can do not to thrash around, but Wonwoo seems to be ready to help there. He’s got a hand on your stomach anchoring you down to the bed. You’re not even sure how he’s got enough hands to move them along your body the way he seems to. Without warning, he moves his mouth up to pay attention to your clit. And he doesn’t give you a break, sliding two fingers into you and immediately scissoring them open. He sets a brutal pace, curling his fingers to hit you where he seems to know you need him on some of the passes.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, oh my god, fuck,” you scream out.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he sneers at you from between your legs.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan. “Your fingers, oh my god.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans.

In the next moment, you’re coming so hard you squirt over those amazing fingers of his. Your vision whites out around the edges and your toes are curling. It’s all you can do to catch your breath as Wonwoo’s fingers pump through the high.

“I don’t remember the last time I came that hard,” you admit.

“We’re not done yet,” he shares and the tone of his voice has you nearly clenching your legs together. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees.”

“So bossy,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You turn over anyway, though, and put your ass in the air.

“This is a really good fucking view,” he says. You feel the bed dip when he gets back in place after removing his boxers.

Wonwoo has one hand on your hip and the other is running up your back to press you down further. To help you get that perfect arch of your back. You wiggle your ass at him and are rewarded with a stinging smack. Your moan is muffled by the pillow, so you turn your head to the side. Already know he wants to hear you. When he smacks your other ass check, you nearly scream out.

“That’s it, I want to hear you,” he encourages.

“Please, Wonwoo, just fuck me already,” you beg.

“One orgasm wasn’t enough?” he asks and you can hear the cockiness in his voice. Bringing a ringing smack down on your ass again. You scream out at the sting.

“No, I want you to split me open,” you whine. In any other situation you might be embarrassed by the admission, but not now. Not with him. Not when it’s so clearly turning him on.

“Greedy little thing,” he comments. His fingers press into your cunt again and you nearly yelp.

There’s no time to adjust when Wonwoo removes his fingers and immediately lines himself up at your entrance. With one snap of his hips, he’s fully inside you and you’re hissing. He’s bigger than you were guessing, even with the outline in his boxers. And he doesn’t give you a break as he starts fucking you hard. All you can hear is the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the mingled moans from both of you. You’re sensitive from both the pace and the earlier orgasm. Your legs feel like they would collapse under you if they could.

As if the pace isn’t enough, Wonwoo snakes an arm around you to reach for your clit, rubbing circles into it at the same pace as his thrusts. You can tell he’s nowhere near close, but you’re about to lose control again and you’re not sure how to stop it.

“Fuck, Wonwoo, slower, I’m going to - fuck!” you whine out.

“You gonna come again? So soon, baby?” he taunts.

“I can’t - fuck, please,” you beg. “I’m so close.”

“I want you to make a mess of my dick the same way you made a mess of my fingers,” Wonwoo directs.

“But you haven’t…” you start and Wonwoo removes his hand from your clit. You cry out at the loss until his other hand grabs your hair to yank you back against his chest. When it’s clear you’re not going to move, his hand moves from your hair to your throat.

“I want you to come for me. Right now. Show me how good I feel inside that tight pussy,” he directs.

It’s one of the most surprising reactions, the way your body immediately responds to him. He’s got you coming just as hard as the first time and he doesn’t give you a chance to second guess any of it. As the shocks rip through your body, you notice that Wonwoo does slow down his thrusts. Doesn’t pull out of you, though. You collapse forward and arch your back again so it’s easier to meet Wonwoo’s continued pace.

“You’re so good at listening,” he praises.

“Not usually,” you mumble into the pillow through the haze.

“I must be special,” he says as he lazily fucks into you.

“Jesus Wonwoo, you can fuck me. I know you haven’t finished yet,” you grumble.

“In a rush to go somewhere?” he teases.

“No, but it must be…well, I don’t know. Hard for you,” you mumble into the sheets.

“I’ve got excellent control,” Wonwoo says, all confidence. “I’m not in a rush to end this.”

Despite your instance, he continues to lazily snap his hips into you. It’s so slow, way too slow. He reaches down to pull you up against his chest again, still keeping the pace. His hands are on your breasts, squeezing them to anchor you to him. He rolls one of your nipples roughly between his fingers to see what he gets as a reaction. Your moan seems to spur him on further. Each time pain shoots through some part of your body, it only seems to turn you on more. It’s easy to forget why you agreed to this in the first place.

For all the demands, Wonwoo is actually very attentive as well. He peppers kisses from behind your ear all the way down your shoulder and back, paying special attention to the areas that seem to get the best response from you. He’s also careful with where he nips you, never biting hard enough to leave a mark somewhere that couldn’t be easily hidden. The entire experience has been so all-consuming that there isn’t space for any other thoughts in your head. It’s just him and this hotel room that’s entirely too fancy.

He must feel that you’re starting to get worked up because he pushes you back down into the bed. His pace finally picks up again, which is good because you’re sprinting towards being too sore to actually enjoy it anymore. The pace gets much faster again, not nearly as rhythmic as before. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts. It’s the first time it actually feels like he’s losing control.

“Oh my god,” you cry out. “I’m gonna come again. Oh my god!”

“Me too,” he groans through a stuttered breath. “Fuck, where can I come?”

“I don’t care,” you cry out. You’re about to have your third orgasm. “On my back, on my ass, I don’t fucking care, just come with me.”

You press a finger to your clit to try and help you over that last bit to tumble over the edge so that Wonwoo can chase his own relief. The second your body starts shaking, you feel him pull out. He must pump his cock a few times because there’s a slight delay before you feel something hit your back. You feel a little proud with how much cum you feel on your skin, like maybe he was a little more affected by you than he wanted to let on.

As soon as Wonwoo lays down next to you on the bed, you also collapse onto your side. The bed is soft, but your knees are still a little sore from spending so much time on them. Wonwoo immediately pulls you into him so that he can kiss you breathless. His hand is behind your head, keeping you from pulling away. The chemistry between the two of you is intense. Not something you were prepared for. It’s clear that if one of you doesn’t stop, then you’ll be fucking him again. And your body needs a break.

“I should get cleaned up,” you say when you pull back, more than slightly breathless.

“Let me just get cleaned up a little and then you can take a shower,” he says.

He presses a kiss to your temple and then gets up off the bed. There’s no point in pretending you aren’t watching him as he walks to the bathroom. He’s all lean lines and unexpected muscles. Nobody should be allowed to look the way he does, to look so good that Greek gods would be jealous. And yet here he is.

A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom and arches an eyebrow at you. There’s a towel slung low around his hips in a way that should be a sin. “You’re going to make me think that you want more.”

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to stand,” you joke as an answer.

It surprises you a little when he comes over to the bed and helps you up. That is, until you see the way his eyes take you in. There’s nothing soft there, only predatory. Like you’re a meal he wants to return to. Your brain still feels a little slow to catch up, but registers something like he’s analyzing you. Still, he helps you get to the bathroom, points out the toiletries, and then disappears back into the room.

By the time you’re clean and wrapped in the softest bathrobe you’ve ever worn, Wonwoo is sitting at the table wearing shorts and his glasses with nothing else. He’s scrolling absently through his phone and picking at some snacks that hadn’t been there when you had gone to shower. You didn’t think you’d been in there long, so it’s surprising he was able to get something up so quickly. When he notices you’re out of the bathroom, he indicates the food.

“I ordered us some snacks and they were happy to get them up here quickly,” he says.

You take a seat across from him a little apprehensively. This is the part that you hadn’t really considered. How do you excuse yourself from the situation in a way that ensures you’ll see him again? It’s not that you want to have a repeat, though there’s part of your brain that is not opposed like you should be. It’s just…well with the room and the toiletries and the fast room service, you’re sure that this is the man you’re looking for. Which, admittedly, might make things a little complicated. But, you do have a job to do.

“I guess I am hungry,” you admit and reach for something.

“Glad you’re not going to make me eat alone,” he muses.

“You already paid for dinner and drinks, I wasn’t expecting more treats,” you admit.

“Seems fitting after the mindblowing sex,” he says and watches you, a clear glint to his eyes. “I can’t get over how insanely hot it was to watch you squirt for me.”

Your cheeks redden without your permission. He’s so free with admitting it even with the moment having passed. Maybe he’s more trouble than you realized.

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one to enjoy myself if my back is any indication,” you toss out.

“I really enjoyed the way you told me I could come on your back,” he shares.

“And my ass,” you remind him.

“I got that too,” he reminds you. “And what a nice ass it is.”

“Careful or I’ll ask you to blow my back out again,” you say, voice slightly betraying that you’re affected by his very presence.

“That makes me think you were going to head out and never see me again,” Wonwoo ventures.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say, trying to be coy.

Wonwoo fixes you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. It nearly makes you squirm under the intensity. Is he just like that? The kind of person that does everything with that burning look in his eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Agent,” he begins and your mouth runs dry. You do everything you can not to let him know that you’re a second away from losing it. “Do you fuck all your targets? Or am I special?”

The way he smirks at you lets you know that he knows he’s onto something. Knows exactly who you are. Or maybe who you work for, at least. He’s made you and you’re not entirely sure you’re safe anymore. You’re also not entirely sure what the best move is. Probably take half a second too long to decide if his face is any indication.

“Agent? Target?” you laugh out. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” he presses. “Really, we shouldn’t be lying to each other so early in the relationship.”

“I’m here doing…” you start.

“Research, yes. That’s what you said. And you almost had me when it took so long to run into you again. Your Spanish is flawless. It doesn’t sound like someone that learned at some secret agency. You’re much better at languages than any of the other agents that have come after me. And waiting so long to meet me again, genius. It really had me second guessing who you were,” he says. “But then, you made a mistake. Do you know what it was?”

“Going on a date with someone that’s clearly a little delusional?” you ventured. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, confident. “I’ll tell you where you fucked up. It was dinner tonight. No, not something you said or did because you were shockingly smooth with it. It’s that you agreed to it at all. I suggested a place no researcher would ever go to. Because it used to be the site of a religious monument, but it fell into disrepair. A local crime family took it over. Only locals bother going there, but no researcher ever would.”

Your heart sinks. Through all your research and all your planning, you knew that you would never be able to get everything. There just wasn’t the time. So, you had to hope that the person you were chasing wouldn’t notice any small missteps. Or would write them off with your cover story. What you had not planned for was this. In all your careful consideration, you had not planned to go on a date with the art thief himself. He had you and he knew it. It’s hard to see the right path out of this.

It had been a gamble to get close to him the way you had. A gamble that you questioned taking and took anyway. A gamble you took without clearing it with Seungcheol. Usually, getting close to a target this way, you talk to him to make sure that he thinks it’s a good idea too. Make sure that this kind of move will fit the profile for the person that you’re chasing. This time, you’re flying blind. You had gotten a little ahead of yourself. A little sloppy. This isn’t the type of work you’re known for. It’s not the reason that you were sent down to Buenos Aires to chase him on a secret mission.

“One mistake,” you sigh with a shake of your head.

“Yeah, just the one,” he agrees.

“So why did you invite me back here?” you ask.

Wonwoo shrugs. “I’m curious about you.”

“Curious? You risked inviting me back to your actual hotel room over curiosity?” you ask, looking around.

“Who’s to say this is actually my room?” he says with another casual shrug. You clock it on his face as soon as he says it.

“No, it is your actual room. The comfort, the speed of the room service, the way things are laid out. It’s not staged. This is just where you’re staying,” you observe. That makes him smile in a way you’re not expecting.

“Good eye,” he agrees. “Now for my question. Do you fuck all your targets?”

“No,” you say shortly.

“Why even agree to go on a date with me, then?” he presses.

You sigh and sit further back into your chair. Take a piece of fruit from the table to buy yourself some time. “I don’t know. It wasn’t a good decision, obviously. I wasn’t even sure you were my target. There was just…something about you.”

“So you’ve never fucked a target before? I’m special?” he asks with a smirk.

“I didn’t say that,” you respond. “I just don’t usually fuck a target without clearing it first.”

“Who knows you’re here with me?” he asks.

“Nobody,” you answer. It’s too honest.

You’re not sure if you should have admitted that and even less sure if he’ll believe you. It is the truth, though. Nobody in the world knows where you are right now. It’s kind of a crossroads for you because Wonwoo isn’t dangerous. He’s never been violent, as far as your information shows. Despite being physically separated from your bag, you’re not exactly unarmed. And yes, he does look like he’s in shape, but you’re still confident that you can take him if it comes to that. Once again, your mind is running through a million calculations a second as you realize you definitely should have talked to Seungcheol.

“I’m trying to figure you out,” he admits.

“How’s that going?” you ask sarcastically.

“Not as well as it would normally,” he says. It’s something else that’s honest between the two of you. More honest than you’re expecting. “Most people are too easy to figure out. It’s boring. Nothing about you makes sense to me.”

“And what about me is so difficult for you to figure out?” you ask, still lacing your words with sarcasm.

“You know, despite me figuring out that you’re after me, you’re actually the best agent that they’ve ever sent. You fit into your role seamlessly. You’re just the right amount of charming. You blend into your surroundings because you don’t try to do anything to dull yourself. Against my better judgment, I am impressed. And yet, you still decided to come on the date. You’re clearly the best they have and you’re still here,” he says, gaze soft but analytical on you.

“I’m going to keep my mouth shut,” you say carefully.

“Why?” he asks.

“You disarm me,” you admit. “I know so much about you and yet, here I am. Unwilling to leave even though you know what I’m here to do.”

“Do you still want to turn me in?” he asks.

“Are you going to disappear into the wind the second I walk out that door?” you counter.

He regards you for a moment. A moment too long, really. It makes you squirm in your seat. This isn’t going at all how you would have imagined. “No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m waiting to see how this whole thing plays out. You haven’t said that you want to turn me in. I can see you’re conflicted about it. So, I’m going to see how this plays out,” he answers. He holds up a hand when you open your mouth. Seems to predict you’re going to ask why again. “Because…okay, look. I know this is really weird. I know you’re here to try and find me. But, you’re actually interesting and that sex was fucking good. So, I don’t know, call me cocky. I’m not ready to let you walk away just yet.”

“If I can walk at all,” you grumble.

“You were walking just fine from the bathroom. Maybe I need to really make sure you can’t walk,” he muses.

The eye contact is too much and you turn your head away. You’re positive he’s onto you, especially when you carefully cross your legs. It’s just that he’s right, isn’t he? You can sit here and pretend that you only slept with him to keep him close while you tried to figure him out. Can say that it was all just part of the job and you didn’t enjoy it. Can say that you wanted to take a different approach since nobody else has been able to catch him.

That’s also very clearly a lie.

Seungcheol likes to know what his agents are up to, particularly when it comes to agents like you that deal with secret missions. Since you started as friends before he had to retire to his desk, he’s also very protective of you. He hates it when you suggest using your charm on a target like this. So, no, this isn’t just another target. This is something else entirely. You have to admit that you actually enjoyed it. That you would like to do it again. That you actually don’t even want to leave his room because you’re not convinced you’ll ever see him again. Which is really stupid, isn’t it? You should not care if you never see him again. Unless it means that you failed your mission. That’s not why you’re worrying about never seeing him again, though.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something else, your phone chirps from your bag. It’s a sign. You know it is. The sound is tied to Seungcheol. Which means he’s looking for a check-in. Which means you’re late, something that never happens with you. You’re standing up to get your phone before even realizing it. Wonwoo’s eyes track your movements.

Cheol: hope you’re enjoying your trip! Send pictures when you can

It’s code. Sent through a normal message so that it doesn’t look suspicious. And so that it gives you the chance to ignore it if you’re not in a place where you can answer him. You don’t even hear Wonwoo approach as you’re mentally calculating how to respond to this.

“Is that code?” he asks and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his low voice by your ear. God, nobody should have a voice like his.

“It’s my handler, I guess you could say,” you answer.

“Are you going to call him?” he asks.

“He’ll worry if I don’t,” you say and realize it’s true.

Wonwoo steps around you to grab his own phone and then returns to his position at the table. “I’ll be quiet if you want to call.”

There’s something kind of hot about how he says it. Like he doesn’t actually want to let you leave. Or like it’s an order to stay. You’re not sure if you’re reading too much into it. When you look over at him, his eyes are on his phone, but his lips turn up in a smile. He knows your eyes are on him and he’s still playing a game. A game that you just might lose, for the first time in your life.

With a sigh, you shake your head and just fire off a text in response. You don’t have it in you to call Seungcheol and you also aren’t exactly sure what to say. He’s always been able to read your tone like it’s his own. After telling him you might have a lead, he’s going to know something is wrong. This is going to be a problem.

You: it’s been amazing, i’m loving each new thing i get to see in person. I’ll have some pictures to show you tomorrow!

It’s a signal that you’re not going to have anything new to share with him tonight and not to contact you again until you check in the next day. You’re not really sure if this is the right decision, but you need time to clear your head. This is the only way that you can see getting that. It’s too hard to think about making a decision when Wonwoo is still half naked and looking at you like you’re prey. At least you can assume that you could take him if you needed to. Thankfully, he’s not really looking at you like that kind of prey.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” you say.

“And what will you do tonight?” Wonwoo asks, looking up at you.

“I’m all yours, at least for tonight,” you say.

You’re surprised the look he gives you doesn’t melt you into the floor. “I can work with that.”

The next day brings more confusion than the night before. At least you’re back in your own hotel room and out of the intoxicating orbit of Wonwoo. The downside is that you couldn’t leave his bed without agreeing to lunch plans with him. Both of you wanted to get breakfast together, but hadn’t been able to get out of bed in time for that. You turned down his offer to just buy you new clothes so you wouldn’t have to leave his sight. Thankfully, he does seem to understand that you need a minute to process everything in the last 24 hours. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

That’s not what you need to focus on right now, though. You don’t have any more messages from Seungcheol, which is what you expected. Still, you need to call him before he doesn’t something to check on you. Like sending Chan to your hotel with some made up story. You don’t want to put anyone in that position. You also don’t really know what you’re going to say. When you left Wonwoo’s hotel room, he made it clear: the choice was yours. He wants to see you again and he also knows that he’s asking a lot. Too much, probably. So, he’s giving you a choice. If you show up at lunch to meet him, then you’re at least willing to get to know him a little more before deciding anything. If you stand him up, then he’ll know you can’t agree to that. It’s a major gamble for him because you know what he looks like and his real name. You have more than you need to put an end to years of his hard work.

Nothing in your life has prepared you for this. Not really. Sure, you train for missions and you perfect your skills. But, emotions have never been part of it. It’s always been so easy to separate your humanity from your job. Kind of like you just switch of anything that makes you normal and go into mission-mode. You once compared it to being an actor because you’re just playing a part. None of it is real and none of it is really your decision. This is uncharted territory for you.

Once you catch your breath, you pull a device out of the secret pocket in your bag so that you can connect it to your phone. It’ll scramble the signals and make the line secure so that you can call Seungcheol. It’s a bit of normalcy that you’re craving in the madness around you.

“Finally, I’ve been worried,” Seungcheol answers.

“I answered you right away,” you point out.

“Yes, to say that you would not be calling me,” Seungcheol presses and you sigh.

“Because I don’t have anything new to report,” you say without even realizing when you made the decision. The lie flows so easily. “I’ve been cataloging everything on everyone I see at the museums and galleries. Cross checking the names coming into the country. Surveying anyone that sticks out as I check things out.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol cuts in.

“I’m here to find him, though,” you point out. You’re not sure why you’re doing this.

“I know,” he says. “But, I’d rather you be safe.”

“I’m always safe,” you lie. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to pick up on it.

“I know, but I also know you’re competitive,” he says. “Remember, we’ve already sent no less than 6 teams to find him and they’ve all failed.”

“I don’t fail, though. That’s why you sent me,” you say. You’re not even sure why you’re arguing with him.

“Just be careful. What happened with that lead you thought you had?” he asks.

“A dead end,” you say with a practiced sigh. “Does the intelligence say he’s still in the city?”

“I can’t imagine he’d leave without taking anything,” Seungcheol says.

“Good point,” you say. “I’ll keep looking.”

“Do you want me to send back-up?” he asks.

“It’s your mission,” you say noncommittally. “If you think it’ll help and we can still fly under the radar, then by all means.”

“I was thinking of Chan since he’s still kind of in the area,” he says.

“Ah, yeah, I’m not sure,” you admit.

“You’re right, I know. I do want you to formally meet him soon, though. But, definitely not mid-mission,” he agrees. “Just be careful and keep me updated. If it goes on too long, we’ll just pull you. Maybe he got spooked.”

“Yeah, that works,” you agree.

“See you when you’re back,” he says.

“See you,” you answer and hang up.

It feels awful to lie to him, of all people. He’s one of the only people that you’ve ever trusted in your life. The only one that knows exactly who you are, knows all your demons, and still accepts you. He knows just how many people are six feet under because of you, knows the ways you’ve had to use your body, knows the lies you’ve told and the people you’ve hurt, both physically and emotionally. He knows all your scars and he accepts it. Because you know all his scars, too. It sucks to lie to him.

Sometimes they say that indecision is still a decision. That’s where you are now. You can say that you haven’t made a decision about what you’re going to do with Wonwoo. You can say that you’re waiting for more information. But, in a way, you’ve made at least one decision in his favor. You didn’t tell Seungcheol that your lead turned out to be the art thief himself. No. Instead, you’re showering and getting ready to meet him again, about to make yet another decision. Maybe you were always going to agree to lunch rather than stand him up. He’s got a lot to lose here too. It’s far more complicated than it should be.

Your head is a little in the clouds by the time you leave your room to head down to the lobby and out into the comfortable winter air. If you spend a little more time than strictly necessary making sure you look nice, well that’s your business. The only drawback is that you don’t have Wonwoo’s phone number, at your own insistence, and so he may think you decided to stand him up. That worry lasts as long as it takes for you to reach the lobby. That’s where you see him, sitting casually in an armchair with his eyes locked on you. There’s no reason for the way your heart skips over such a simple outfit. It’s just a t-shirt and a leather jacket. Why are you nearly losing your mind?

“What are you doing here?” you ask and he gives you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. It probably even puts your own smile to shame.

“I took a chance that you would decide in my favor,” he says and stands up.

“Confident,” you say, “but still, I was supposed to meet you at the restaurant since I hadn’t decided.”

“It’s a date. I’m picking you up,” he says and surprises you by placing a gentle kiss on your cheek .

“Isn’t that chivalrous of you,” you comment while trying to convince your heart to stop beating out of your chest.

“Shall we?” he asks and motions for you to walk ahead of him.

The chivalry doesn’t stop at picking you up at your hotel, unfortunately for you. He opens the door and then gently takes your hand. There’s a hand on your back when you step around him. He puts himself between you and any traffic. It’s the best anyone has ever treated you and you hate that you’re even noticing that. Now, you’re thinking that you should have stood him up for an entirely different reason.

Lunch feels like the most normal thing in the world. The real reason for being in this beautiful city doesn’t come up at all. Instead, you talk about life and interests. The type of music and food that you like. What you do in your free time. It’s exactly what you imagine first or second dates to be like. Not that you have much experience with actually dating.

It only gets deeper from there with Wonwoo telling you more about himself. Not about how he really makes money, but it certainly helps you understand how he got involved and how he stays under the radar. As it turns out, he comes from a lot of money. He doesn’t say it in a way that sounds like he’s bragging. It makes sense, though. Everything about him screams old money, which fits the profile you put together. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, the way he dresses. It doesn’t feel like someone that’s made his money from stealing art. You learn that he’s involved in a lot of charities, which surprises you a bit. You also learn that he sponsors students in a video game design program in his home country. There’s so much more to him than stealing art. In fact, that seems to be such a small part of who he is. It’s more than a little surprising, which is odd since it’s usually so hard to surprise you. It’s clear that he’s grown up around art. All this time and he’s just been hiding in plain sight.

The two of you sit at lunch for so long that the servers finally, very politely, indicate that it’s time to leave. It’s never been this easy to sit with someone in your entire life. It’s a level of comfort that you should absolutely not feel with someone like Wonwoo. But, you can’t help it. You can’t help the way you feel around him. Can’t really fight the feelings that keep threatening to bubble up.

The roads aren’t nearly as busy when you walk back towards your hotel. Even though it’s a tourist city, it still quiets down in the mid-afternoon when the local businesses close down. The tourists seem to use the time to also relax or take advantage of certain monuments being quieter. It lends itself to the comfortable silence that settles around you and Wonwoo on the walk.

When you reach the lobby, you turn to face Wonwoo and your breath catches a little. The sun in July isn’t as strong, but it still provides a backlight like he’s some sort of dark angel. Which sounds insane, even if your head. There have been so many beautiful people in your life, yet this is the one that has you forgetting how to put words together. It’s like he knows exactly what you’re thinking when he steps into your space and takes your face in his hands. He kisses you so fiercely that you forget your name. It’s the kind of kiss that doesn’t look like much from the outside, but changes your entire world on the inside.

“Well how am I supposed to go back to my room and leave you now?” you ask against his lips when he pulls back. You can feel the smile on his own lips when he kisses you again.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers.

“No,” you whisper back and kiss him again.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he says.

That makes you pull back sharply so that you can search his face. Does he realize how that sounds? It makes you wonder if he means more than just tonight. What is he trying to do to you? How many ways can one man make you reconsider everything you stand for? Nothing about his face looks smug or even insincere. In fact, he looks the way you imagine you feel. A little smitten and a lot unsure of what to do next.

“And what would I do instead?” you ask, though you have an idea where he’s going.

“Go pack a bag of some of your things and come stay with me for the next few days,” he requests. It’s just bordering on a demand, even though it’s clearly your call.

“Are you crazy? We barely know each other,” you protest without much heat.

“What better way to get to know each other?” he counters. He grabs your hips, pulling you close to his body so he can wrap his arms around you. “And think about it. I can see you’re still not sure what you want to do. If you’re with me, you’ll know where I am at all times. I can’t get into any trouble while you’re still deciding.”

“I suppose you do make a point,” you concede.

“I have never done anything this reckless in my life. So, I’m just asking for a chance,” he shares.

It’s a little insane for him to say this is the most reckless thing he’s done in his life. Surely, stealing art is crazier than this. Which would make you lean towards not believing him if it weren’t for the voice in the back of your head. That little voice that agrees with him. You’ve put your life in danger more times than you can count, but saying yes to the man in front of you feels like the most dangerous idea yet. Maybe it’s because you know it’s not your body you’re putting on the line, but your heart. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what he means too. That he’s never taken the chance to chase someone like this. Or maybe you just want to believe that you might be special.

All you can do is nod at him and watch the smile that breaks across his face. It’s honest, unguarded. It’s real. There’s nothing behind it except genuine happiness that you agreed to spend the next few days with him. Before you can second guess your decision, you give him one more kiss and nearly run up to your room.

Being separated from him gives you the chance to actually catch your breath. To focus on what you need to bring with you. Since, apparently, you’re not going to reconsider if this is actually a good idea or not. You know you should. You know that this is another one of those moments that you chalk up to indecision when your actual decision could not be any louder. Again, you’re reminded of what you’re doing here. What you’re supposed to be doing here. This man is your enemy. He’s the person you’re supposed to be arresting and bringing into The Agency to face sentencing. You’re a good agent. You always put the mission ahead of yourself, your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your relationships. This isn’t a version of yourself that you recognize and it should stop you in your tracks.

Instead, you decide which dress to pack away and what pair of shoes looks best. For the first time in your life, you’re diving in first and asking questions later. Or never.

It shouldn’t be surprising that you end up naked in Wonwoo’s bed minutes after crossing the threshold to his hotel room. Not with how things have gone so far for the two of you. Yet, what is surprising is that the sex is even better than the night before. You’re catching your breath, tucked into Wonwoo’s side, body tacky with sweat but so impossibly happy. His hand that’s around you absently traces patterns into your skin. It’s honestly like you’ve known him for years. It’s insane to realize how comfortable you feel when that’s not something you ever experience. Not like this.

It’s also shocking to you how much this man wants to share with you. He carries on your chats from lunch as if he hadn’t just fucked you into his mattress yet again. Like this means more than some dirty sex holed up in a hotel in a foreign city. Makes you feel like you might actually mean something to him, which is a very dangerous feeling to have. Both of you know that this can’t mean more than what it is. At least, you think you know that and you think he might too. But, there’s a clear understanding that you won’t talk about it. Not now, at least.

Wonwoo decides that he wants to take you somewhere fancy for dinner. The type of place that you would never consider going to while on a mission. Though, you’re always prepared for anything. When you were packing up your things in your hotel room, you even grabbed a couple nicer dresses. All they needed was a quick steam, which the hotel staff had been only too happy to accommodate. Any protests about it being too much fell on deaf ears. He was set and the two of you were going to a famous restaurant. All you had to do was shower and get ready. Your dress would be ready by the time you needed it.

It’s clear you don’t really understand the limits to Wonwoo’s wealth, if there even are any, when you arrive at the restaurant. It’s the kind of place where you usually need reservations well in advance. It’s not the kind of place you can just show up at. Despite that, the host leads you back to a semi-private area where you’re tucked into a corner booth. It’s clearly one of the nicest tables in the place. You think you catch Wonwoo sliding the host something when he shakes their hand before he turns back to you. All thoughts go out the window when he slides in right next to you, not leaving any space.

Wonwoo’s Spanish really is very remedial and so you help him decipher the menu and order. It gives you pause when there aren’t prices anywhere on the menu, but he’s quick to wave off any concerns. Insists that it’s his treat. You don’t want to think that’s something you could get used to. It isn’t like you have any real trouble affording nice things. Your salary is high and you don’t have much to spend money on. This is a different level, though. It’s even different from the times you’ve gone on a mission and charmed your target. That always feels temporary. Like you’re something of an imposter. You don’t get those feelings here with Wonwoo.

Letting him pick out which outfit you wore may have been a mistake. You discover this once you get your drinks and the waiter leaves you alone. His hand rests possessively on your thigh, against the bare skin of your leg exposed by the slit in your dress. His body is angled towards you and he’s encouraging you to continue telling your story. But, he has to know he’s distracting, too, with the way his hand slides further up your thigh. What started as arguably innocent ventures quickly into dangerous territory.

“You were saying?” he prompts. His hand is inside the fabric of your dress now, keeping you from pressing your thighs together like you want to.

“I, uh…” you stutter as he digs his hand into the soft flesh there. “Wonwoo, aren’t you worried?”

“About what?” he asks innocently.

“Getting caught,” you hiss and look down at your lap.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not worried,” he says and you glare at him, “because you’re going to be good for me and be quiet.”

“I don’t know…” you start and stop as soon as his pinky grazes along your entrance through your panties. “Fuck.”

“Doesn’t seem like you actually want me to stop,” he points out.

“I, fuck, you know I don’t but there are people,” you say softly.

“I paid good money for this table. I don’t think we’ll be disturbed,” he tells you.

“I…” you start. When he pulls his finger away, you nearly whine.

“I need to hear you say you want it,” he says.

“What?” you ask, a little louder than you intended.

“Use your words,” he directs and you glare.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, earning a chuckle out of him.

“Not yet,” he retorts.

“Fine, yes. I want your fingers inside me here in this damn restaurant,” you say.

He’s expecting this answer. It’s written all over his face. This time, he doesn’t tease you. Doesn’t waste any time because you may not have much of it. He simply pushes your panties to the side and slides his first finger into you. The angle doesn’t make it easy but his fingers are long and slender, like they were built for something like this. It’s hard to keep from making a sound, so you try to do anything to distract yourself from the way he pumps into you. Or the way he adds a second finger so quickly.

When you pick up your drink to take a sip from the straw, you watch his eyes on you. They seem to darken the second that you wrap your lips around the straw. His fingers pump into you even faster. And his lips are demanding on yours when you set the drink back down. You moan softly into his mouth without really considering if anyone is paying attention or if they can hear you. His tongue tangles with yours frantically while he tries to get you off right in that booth.

This is new for you. You definitely didn’t think you would get so turned on by the fact that anyone could walk back over to see what you were doing. Anyone could hear the noises you’re making. Anyone could figure it out. When he feels that your pussy clenching around his fingers, he pulls away from the kiss. Leans his forehead against yours so that he can whisper filthy things in the space between you. Tells you how good you feel and how he loves watching you when you’re about to come. Moans about how tight you are. How pliant you are for him. Reminds you to be quiet. Tells you he can’t wait to taste you on his fingers. That’s what finally pushes you over the edge.

Your fingers grip the edge of the booth underneath you as you come hard and fast. He lazily guides you through it and then follows through by bringing his fingers to his lips. It’s so hot that you consider asking if you can just leave and go back to the room to be fucked properly. But, then your stomach rumbles and you think better of it. It’s only another few minutes before the first course arrives with a slightly knowing look from the waiter. After that first course, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to clean up, at least a little. You deem your panties ruined and just remove them, tucking them away into your bag. You’ll have to be a little more careful the rest of the night.

This dinner is somehow even better than the first and it has nothing to do with the place being expensive, though the food is definitely amazing. You also don’t think it really has anything to do with the way Wonwoo fingered you under the table. That’s definitely a first for you. Exhibitionism hasn’t been your thing before, but maybe he’s got you learning new things about yourself. It had only taken him a minute to realize that you weren’t wearing underwear anymore. It definitely took him another minute to regain his composure.

The thing that actually makes this dinner better than the first is the man across from you. With his walls down, the entire night just feels that much more. It’s one of the only times you’ve ever felt your own guard come down. It’s not smart and you don’t care. You think you probably look a little punch drunk to anyone that can see your table. Then, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes again and think he probably looks the same. You never really have the chance to enjoy dates, but even if you did, this would still probably top them all. It’s all the little things. The way Wonwoo carefully brushes a strand of hair out of your face. The way he offers you a bite off his own plate when you say it looks good. The way he brings your knuckles up to his lips and presses feather light kisses to them.

“Are you going to insist on ordering dessert here too?” you ask after the main course.

“I was thinking we might have dessert back in our room,” he says and you raise an eyebrow.

“Our room?” you question.

“Don’t test me,” he cautions.

“I wouldn’t dare,” you say and lean into him to press a slow kiss to his cheek. Your hand brushes over his lap as a way to get closer.

“Is this you not testing me?” he asks when your hand brushes across his lap again.

“What? You can make me come on your fingers but I can’t tease you a little?” you ask innocently.

Wonwoo grabs your hand and anchors it on your own thigh. “We’re getting out of here and then you can show your appreciation however you want. We don’t need to give them more of a show.”

It seems like it takes an eternity to pay the bill (which Wonwoo doesn’t let you see) and get a cab back to the hotel. The promise of something else simmers between you the entire time. Wonwoo keeps a hand on you the entire time. A hand on your lower back out of the restaurant, fingers intertwined with yours in the cab, an arm around you walking into the hotel. When you get into the elevator, he pulls you back against his chest as more people join. He masks it as affection and presses a kiss to your cheek, but you feel the desire beneath it.

The moment you cross into the room, you slip out of your shoes and turn around to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s lips. The tension between the two of you is thick and it’s hard to remind yourself to come up for a breath. He overwhelms every one of your senses. There’s nothing but him in every corner of your brain when he kisses you like that.

It’s almost embarrassing when he breaks the kiss and you chase his lips. “How about dessert?”

“I thought that was just your way of saying…” you start and he directs your attention to the table. There’s an assortment of fruit, whipped cream, and melted chocolate there.

You’re a little hesitant when he starts to walk to the table. It just feels incredibly intimate, which is true for a lot of what's happened with Wonwoo. But, this still feels different. It feels like more, once again. Wonwoo realizes that you’re not behind him and turns back to you. He closes the space between you yet again and places a hand on your cheek, impossibly soft.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“I’ve never done…this,” you say softly into the quiet between you and him.

“Pretty sure we’ve already fucked several times,” Wonwoo says to lighten the mood.

“No, I mean, this…I don’t know. The desserts and the whipped cream and chocolate. It just feels, I don’t know, intimate,” you admit.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he assures you.

It’s absolutely insane that you’re hesitating. It doesn’t have to be some super intimate thing. It’s not like Wonwoo hasn’t already seen every inch of you and gotten to know your body better than anyone should in that period of time. But, this is far beyond the point where you can convince yourself any part of this is for the mission anymore. This isn’t just to keep him close. This is no longer indecision, as much as you want to pretend that it is.

“Is this your go-to move, then? Have a bunch of sweets delivered to the hotel room and seduce people with being all gentle?” you ask.

“I’ve definitely never done this before,” he says and it’s too honest.

Instead of answering him you just kiss him because it’s the only answer you can think of. Somehow, knowing that this is different for him too makes it feel less overwhelming for you. You drag him back towards the table until you’re leaning against it. Your back arches into him as he licks into your mouth. His hands wrap around you to keep you tight against his body. He pulls away again and you’re ready for it this time.

Wonwoo reaches an arm behind you and dips a strawberry in some of the chocolate. He brings it to your lips and watches intently as you get your mouth around it. The first bite sends a little bit of juice and chocolate over your lips. Just as you’re about to wipe it away, Wonwoo pulls the remainder of the strawberry back and kisses it away. It’s like that one action unlocks any hang ups you have. You twist around to scoop up some whipped cream with your finger. Your eyes lock on Wonwoo as you slowly lick it off. With it still in your mouth, you kiss him hard, enjoying the way your tongues dance and the tastes.

The two of you take turns dipping fruit and feeding it to each other. The kisses become more and more desperate in between feeding each other. It’s a little messy, though, so you unbutton Wonwoo’s shirt and slide it off his arms. He undoes your dress to slide it off your body, removing your bra along the way. You rid him of his pants and briefs as well so that you’re not the only one standing there naked.

When you reach back to get more fruit, Wonwoo grabs your hand to stop you. There’s a question in your eyes that he leaves unanswered as he moves things out of the way behind you. Then, he’s sitting you on the edge of the table and reaching for the whipped cream, which also answers your question. He puts some of the topping on your breast and sucks into your skin to lick it off you. Your legs part on their own as you lean back on the table to encourage him to get closer. He swirls his tongue around your nipple before softly nipping at your skin. Without warning, he bites into the flesh of your breast and laves over the spot to soothe you.

Food should not be this sexy. Maybe it’s just that it’s Wonwoo tempting you, but you’ve never been this turned on. His tongue is everywhere across your breasts and your stomach. Covering you in kisses while also licking the whipped cream or chocolate off of you. Your nails scratch down his back each time he nips into your skin. Somehow the sensations are everywhere all at once. You wrap your legs around his waist to anchor him closer to you.

“I need you inside me,” you whine out with Wonwoo kissing along your neck.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asks into your skin.

“Feel for yourself,” you encourage.

Wonwoo pulls away from your neck and looks at you with lust. He presses his fingers to your mouth and you suck them in without even thinking about it. They’re sweet as you swirl your tongue around them. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

As if it’s confirmation, he ruts against you, seemingly hard just from all the making out and the food. You pull his fingers from your mouth and guide them to your already dripping pussy. He’s not the only one that’s gotten insanely turned on. As soon as you guide his fingers through your folds he groans again.

Neither one of you is in the mood to wait and he doesn’t waste any time angling his hand so he can pump his fingers inside you. Just presses two fingers right in and adds a third to try and open you up. It makes you scream out, praising his fingers with how quickly they work you over. He removes his hand entirely too quickly and you’re whining at the loss. Wonwoo runs a hand along his cock, pumping a couple times and catching some of the precum to spread it along his length. It’s not enough, but you don’t really care right now.

“Please, Wonwoo, I need you,” you beg.

“Feeling a little desperate, princess?” he teases, that cocky smirk back on him.

“Just fuck me already,” you whine.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything else, just lines himself up and presses his tip into you. It stretches you out and you’re a little surprised that he goes so slowly. Then, you realize that it feels like more when he’s inching into you like this. His eyes watch you for any signs of discomfort. He leans forward and catches your lips in the neediest kiss of the night when he bottoms out in you. You lean back onto your elbows, bringing him along with you. The kisses get sloppier as he starts to thrust into you.

He pulls away from you to reposition and presses your leg up so that he can get deeper. You let your leg fall over his arm so that you don’t have to hold it up. The moans between the two of you are loud enough to drown out the sound of skin on skin as he fucks into you hard. You can’t help it, though, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Look at me,” he directs roughly.

You moan in response but tilt your head back towards him. It feels like a chore and that’s when it occurs to you. Taking hold of his free hand, you move it to your throat. For a second, his eyes go wide and his pace slows. He’s searching your face for a clue before he grabs your throat a little more forcefully.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes, fuck,” you groan out. “I’ll tap you if it’s too much.”

“You’re so fucking hot,” he utters, flexing his fingers on your throat.

Somehow, Wonwoo seems to know the perfect amount of pressure. It’s just tight enough that it makes it a little harder to breathe, but not so much that it’s actually choking you. He seems more comfortable than when he did it the first time. It also makes it easier to keep your eyes on him the way he wants. Everything feels heightened and it’s entirely too soon that you’re rushing to your high. You clench your walls around Wonwoo and he fucks you harder, groaning at the increased tightness.

“Gonna come all over my dick again?” he asks and you moan.

You can’t really say anything and you don’t want to. This is all you need. Your hand winds down your body and you look at Wonwoo with a question in your eyes.

“Go ahead, baby, touch yourself,” he directs you.

Asking for permission to do anything is unlike you, but there’s something about wanting to please this man that drives you to all sorts of new things. You rub your clit in time with his thrusts and it seems like only moments pass before you’re tipping over that edge.

Heavy breaths eventually subside to find Wonwoo slowly, almost lazily, fucking into you. His hands are now both on your hips as he waits for you to come down. You sit up with him still inside you and kiss him, slow and full of all sorts of unspoken things.

“You really are fucking amazing,” you say, voice a little hoarse. “You can move faster.”

“I was thinking we might need to get into the shower,” he says with a smirk, pressing a finger to your skin. You’re about to object when you watch him pull it away and it sticks.

“Maybe I can take care of you in there, then,” you say and kiss him softly.

His eyes seem to light up a little at that. He slides out of you gently and walks slowly into the bathroom. You meant what you said. Shower sex is definitely not your thing because it’s never as sexy as people make it out to be. It can be slippery and there aren’t really any good positions. That doesn’t mean you can’t help him out a little.

Wonwoo has other ideas first, it seems. Once the water is warm enough, both of you get in and he lathers up a loofah to gently wash all the stickiness from your body. It’s gentle in a way you’re not expecting and impossibly thoughtful. You relax against his back with his arms around you while he makes sure all the remnants are gone.

When you’re clean, you turn around to face him and kiss him hard. The water falling on your back creates the perfect sensation with the heat between the two of you. He gathers you against his body, hands sliding down to grip your ass. It’s all you can do not to melt right on the spot. You think that you could probably kiss this man for the rest of your life and never get bored. Or never fully prepare yourself for the way it makes you feel.

You drop to your knees and take his cock in your hand. He leans back against the wall of the shower as he looks down on you. It’s crazy to you how turned on this man gets (or stays) just from kissing or skin contact. No matter what, his body always seems to be ready for you. You run your tongue along his length and swirl your tongue around the tip. You’re impatient and you know he’s been waiting, so you don’t waste any time before you suck him into your mouth. You relax your throat and swallow as much of his cock as you’re able to, alternating between bobbing and hollowing out your cheeks.

“You look so good looking up at me like that,” he groans.

You hum around his dick and Wonwoo grabs the back of your head to anchor you there. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes before he releases you and you can get a breath. Even in this position, you can tell that you actually have control over this man. It’s a great feeling since he’s been in control every other time. His hips buck when you suck him back into you. It’s definitely a powerful feeling. The groans also tell you what you already know, you’re good at this. He’s putty in your hands.

With a few more bobs, he’s coming down your throat and then slumping back against the shower wall. It doesn’t stop him from helping you up off your knees. You pepper light kisses along his collarbones before he surprises you and pulls you into another kiss. It’s never been your experience that a man wants to kiss you like that, but he doesn’t shy away.

“We better get out of this shower before we run through all the hot water,” he says between kisses.

“You’re right,” you say with a sigh.

The two of you step out of the shower and Wonwoo is quick to wrap you up in a towel. It takes everything in you to tell your heart to calm down. You know Wonwoo feels all the same things you do. Even if he's not free with vocalizing his emotions, his actions tell you exactly what he’s thinking. If you know where to look, that is. You’re realizing that you definitely know where to work.

Twenty minutes later, your skin care routine is done and you’re curled up in bed in one of Wonwoo’s oversized t-shirts. You know your alarm is going to be too early tomorrow since you need to check in with Seungcheol, but all you want to do tonight is curl up and talk more with this incredibly interesting man.

Something seems to shift now that you’re holed up in Wonwoo’s hotel room with him for the next however many days. Before, he seemed hesitant to talk about the real reason you two crossed paths. You’re not sure what causes the change or why he trusts that you’re not going to just turn around and burn him. Maybe it’s just that you haven’t done it yet.

“What made you want to start stealing art?” you ask while the two of you are sitting outside on the balcony. This room really is too nice. It almost makes it hard to leave and explore.

“I don’t know if it was that I wanted to steal art,” he chuckles.

“Okay, how did you start, then?” you ask with an affectionate eye roll.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” he says with an uncharacteristic shyness. “I guess, I don’t know, I grew up in this house where nobody ever seemed to care what I was doing. I stole the first piece from my parents and sold it off to someone I’d met at this underground club. I figured my parents would catch me and then at least I’d have their attention for a minute.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t catch you,” you comment.

“They didn’t even notice it was gone,” he says with a chuckle. “How old were you?” you ask.

“16,” he answers immediately.

“So you’ve been doing this…?” you start, doing the math in your head.

“12 years, yeah,” he says. “It took awhile to get to the point I’m at now. I think for a while I was figuring that my parents would somehow catch on and give a shit about my life. By the time I was 19, I was really good at it and I’d made a lot of contacts. I still moved in all those circles so I never looked out of place at a gallery or a museum. Nobody looked twice at me.”

“Did it ever get lonely?” you ask and Wonwoo regards you for a moment. “I just mean that you were still part of all these circles. You still went to all these parties and it seems like none of them knew you at all. You were hiding in plain sight because nobody knew you well enough to see it.”

“I had the networks of people that I sold to or accepted jobs from,” he says.

“But everything I’ve ever seen says that you rarely met with those people in person. It was always online contact and leaving pieces somewhere after the money had been wired,” you share.

“I guess your agency got a few things right,” he mumbles.

“It sounds loney,” you say sympathetically.

“I wish you were a little less observant,” he says like he’s trying for a joking tone.

It’s immediately obvious that he’s a little tired and definitely lonely. You can’t really imagine that type of life. Sure, you’ve been working on your own or with a single partner for your entire adult life. But, you’ve still been part of an organization. There are people that know you at your core. There are people that you can turn to when everything in life feels like it sucks. No matter how bad things get, you know there are people out there who can support you.

Almost involuntarily, a series of images pop into your head. Wonwoo in a suit at a charity gala, the type of person that everyone wants to approach. You can imagine people whispering behind their hands about going to speak to him or ask him to dance. Maybe trying to approach him at the bar. Then you see him just as clearly at home afterwards, alone and sitting on his couch with a drink in hand. You see him perusing a museum to get the lay of the land so that he can steal it later. Once again, alone. You see how he probably sits at home communicating with all his potential buyers.

Wonwoo reads the look on your face and assures you that it’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining things. Yes, he admits that he’s lonely sometimes and that he’s alone more than he’s with other people. It’s hard for him to let anyone in. He doesn’t want to have to account for his time or trust that they won’t blow his cover. There’s nobody in his life that he can be totally himself with, at least not until meeting you. But, he insists that it hasn’t been so bad. Mostly, he prefers to be on his own anyway. He likes the quiet and the solitude. Likes to be able to enjoy his down time however he likes. He gets enough socialization when he goes to events as he’s expected to.

Which brings up a question. After over a decade of doing everything solo, why has he trusted you with all of this now? His answer comes more immediately than you would expect, yet it makes sense. You have something to lose here, too. Possibly even more than he does. After all, there have been a lot of teams that have been close to unraveling his mysterious identity. You, on the other hand, are supposed to be tracking him down. Not spending time locked away in his hotel room with him. That brings you up a little short because he’s right and you’re not planning on going anywhere.

He admits that you intrigue him. All his life, Wonwoo has appreciated a good puzzle or a good challenge. You present both to him, though it hasn’t been as much of a challenge to get you to give him a chance as he expected. It is a challenge to try and unravel you. To try and figure out what made you say yes to the date and what makes you stay now. You also meet him on a level that nobody ever has before. You nearly blush at the way he describes your intelligence and how he feels more turned on by your brain than anyone before. Normally something like that would make you cringe. But, somehow Wonwoo makes it sound both sexy and endearing. You’re just as challenged by him, too, so maybe you get it.

It also brings up some very conflicting feelings in you because it’s a reminder that you have a life entirely separate from him. You have a life that doesn’t allow you to account for this time. At some point, you have to make a final choice. It’s way too late to just turn Wonwoo in without any sort of repercussion. It’s too late to act like this is all just in the name of bringing down one of the most difficult targets you’ve had to track. In the name of getting to know Wonwoo better, you’ve also shared a lot about yourself. A lot that someone like Seungcheol would be able to clock immediately as being true. Every moment you stay with Wonwoo makes your future more complicated. Things are already too hazy.

“Okay enough heavy stuff,” you declare and stand. “Let’s go do something.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“We’re in a beautiful city, let’s go see some of it,” you suggest.

Wonwoo wants to take a minute to actually plan something, but you veto that. He’s definitely not the spontaneous type, which you figured out before you were even sure who he was. It makes more sense now, knowing who he is. So it feels like more of a win that he relents and agrees to just go with the flow. It’s not as if you’ll be flying totally blind anyway. You did a lot of research before coming down for the mission and you know a lot of the places to see, both tourist places and some that are off the beaten path.

Once you’re outside of the hotel room, things feel different in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. Everything in the hotel room feels real in the sense of getting to know each other. The conversations can be heavy and there’s that constant need to rip each other’s clothes off. Being outside exploring a foreign city feels real in an entirely different way. None of the conversations are heavy since you’re just appreciating the sights. But, you and Wonwoo trade off in taking pictures of each other (or even snap some together) and it feels like a glimpse at another life. It isn’t a fantasy world because it does feel real, but it doesn’t feel like an actual reality either. It almost feels like a mission you’re on where you and him would pretend to be a couple. You have to remind yourself this is actually a mission and you’re running around with your target because Wonwoo isn’t your partner.

When you’re in Plaza de Mayo, you take a step back to allow Wonwoo to purchase something to eat. It’s too cute to watch him stumble through his Spanish, constantly looking over at you as if asking for help. All you can do is smile as he mixes up hombre and hambre. The older woman putting the food together only smiles softly. There’s something incredibly cute about watching this stoic man get flushed over ordering in another language.

The next few days follow mostly the same pattern. You wake up earlier than Wonwoo so that you can pretend to work on the mission and actually check in with Seungcheol. Wonwoo pretends that he’s still asleep sometimes. Other times, he gets up and works on his own things. It’s cute that he’ll do anything to make it seem like you have privacy. Breakfast in the room always comes next because it’s an easy way to get ready for the day.

The days themselves are all a little bit different. You see the Piramide de Mayo, the Floralis Generica, the monuments to Juana Azurduy and General Jose de San Martin, Teatro Colon, the planetarium and several other interesting sights. The planetarium is a personal favorite of yours because it’s just kind of weird in an affectionate way. It’s hard to truly pick a favorite though because each new stop teaches you more about the local culture. It’s the kind of place that just makes you want to fall in love with it. There’s so much beauty and so much to appreciate. Each new stop also seems to involve learning something new about Wonwoo and somehow him trying his hand at Spanish again, only to fail. You’re wondering if he does it just to entertain you.

While you’re seeing all the tourist spots, you take time to see the things the locals recommend as well. Sometimes that’s hole-in-the-wall food places or stands that someone mentions. Other times it’s a park that’s too out of the way for tourists. Even other times still, it’s a hidden access point to the beach. Thankfully, it’s still cool out and getting Wonwoo to agree to the beach isn’t difficult. You idly wonder what it would be like to try and get him to visit the beach in January when it’s the dead of summer.

You want to try as many local dishes as you can while you’re there, too. Given his way, Wonwoo would probably eat in the hotel room just as much as out of it, but you don’t know when you’re going to get this chance again. So, even though he’s worn out from spending so much time around people, he lets you drag him out again every night. He even seems to enjoy himself.

At the start of whatever this is, it was always you asking Wonwoo all the questions and trying to volunteer as little about yourself as possible. You’re still an agent and you’re still supposed to be after him. The least you can do, while you’re totally ignoring your mission, is try to better understand Wonwoo and his motivations. Even if you don’t end up turning him in, it's an invaluable experience to get to look into the mind of a criminal. When will you get another chance like this? When will you be this close to someone to ask personal questions? No part of you even considers that he’s lying to you. You’re positive that he answers everything truthfully.

Somewhere along the line, it shifts. Maybe because you know everything you want to know about the man across from you. Or maybe because you genuinely feel comfortable about him. Either way, he’s the one that’s asking you questions now. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t want to know anything about your work. He doesn’t seem to care about any of that. There’s a nagging thought that thinks he might just be trying to make you comfortable. You try to quickly brush it away, though, and just answer any of the personal questions he asks. Wonwoo wants to know the simple things like where you grew up, what your family was like, and what you wanted to do when you were younger. The things that allow him to really know you. It’s terrifying.

By the time you get back to the hotel that night, you’re exhausted. It feels like it’s been a never ending span of days in the best way. You collapse on the bed without changing. All you manage to do is take off your shoes. Wonwoo leans over you and kisses you, softly at first. But, like every other kiss with him, it leaves you gasping for air after a minute.

It’s amazing how he seems to take your breath away and even more amazing how he always seems like he’s ready to tear your clothes off. You’ve never had someone like him in your life. But, that also brings you back to reality. Wonwoo asked you to give him a few days staying in his hotel room. It’s definitely been longer than that without either of you seeming to notice. There’s a level of comfort that neither of you talk about given that this all has an expiration date. And that expiration date is rapidly approaching.

Staying with Wonwoo turns out to be longer than either of you planned and neither of you has a complaint about it. You’ve been checking in with Seungcheol every morning and Wonwoo pretends not to listen. It’s been like living in a little bubble where reality isn’t a concern.

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it? This isn’t real life, not for you. This isn’t something that lasts long term or that you can even sustain. The reality is still there. Wonwoo is one of the most infamous art thieves to ever live and you work for a secret agency tasked with bringing criminals like him to justice. You’re not exactly sure what the last however many days have been. All you know is this is just a break from reality. A brief glimpse into an alternate life that can never be. It’s been amazing and something you won’t ever forget. You’re hoping that you’re both on the same page about that, at least.

“I should probably go back to my hotel today,” you say.

Wonwoo looks up from across the room where he’s reading while you pretend to work on your case. It helps to at least log in to the system. “To get more stuff?”

“I can’t stay here forever,” you point out.

“No, I expect at some point we’ll leave and head to the next place,” he agrees with a shrug.

“We?” you ask, eyebrows flying up.

“Yes, we,” he says like suddenly you’re slow on the uptake. “I’ve got a few places in mind that I’d love to take you, but it’s really up to you.”

“Wonwoo,” you start and your heart sinks.

You are definitely not on the same page. Probably not even in the same book, if you’re honest. Everything over the past days with him has been amazing. The perfect little escape from your reality. But, that’s all it’s been: an escape. Or maybe that’s all you’ve let yourself think it was. Anything else seems like entirely too much. His face drops as he watches you.

“You’re not coming with me,” he realizes.

“I didn’t even know you would want me to!” you state, too loud for the space.

“How could you not? I’ve been telling you all the places that I wanted you to see,” he says and that hits you harder than a physical blow. He’s been giving you all the signs that this isn’t just a bubble.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” you point out.

“Clearly,” he says, voice thick with disappointment.

“Wonwoo, come on. It’s not like I can just, what? Run away?” you say.

“Oh, no, there’s a whole life waiting for you back at your precious agency,” he says with derision.

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” you plead.

“And I’ve shown you that there’s more to life than whatever this is for you,” he counters.

“I can’t just leave them,” you say with a shake of your head.

That seems to make Wonwoo angrier than you expect. “No, of course not. How silly of me. You have to get back to your handler that so clearly loves you.”

“Seungcheol does not love me. We’re friends, sure, but that’s it,” you disagree.

“Let’s pretend that’s true and it’s normal for a handler to speak to you the way he does. Or that it’s normal for him to worry so much about your safety. Who are you going back to apart from him? Who’s waiting for you?” Wonwoo asks.

The questions wash over you like acid rain. Painful and harsh and unrelenting. The worst part is that he’s right. You have wondered if there are some feelings there from Seungcheol. You also don’t have anyone waiting for you. It’s really a half-life, if you’re being honest. Less than a half-life, probably. The past few days with Wonwoo are the most alive you’ve felt since you were a child, before joining the agency.

“I can’t just…this is my job, Wonwoo. And you’re an art thief. A very famous one and…” you start.

“Have I stolen anything here?” he asks and that brings you up short.

“Well, no, of course not. You’ve been with me,” you say simply.

“And I will leave this city without stealing. I will switch careers entirely if it’s that important, though it doesn’t seem like it is since you haven’t turned me in,” he says and it’s almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ve been all over the globe trying to feel something. Trying for anything. I started stealing because I could. I wanted to get the attention my parents never gave me. I kept going because I was looking for a challenge, which it is, at least sometimes. I was looking for someone, I think. Then, I find you and you’re everything I didn’t know to ask for. But, you’re telling me some job where you can’t even have a life is more important than this? That my job, which I’m completely willing to give up, is too much of a barrier?”

“I have a life,” you scoff.

“Really?” Wonwoo challenges and folds his arms. “When was the last time you went on a real date? Not with a target, but a real date just with someone you wanted to know? When’s the last time you let yourself just breathe and explore a city? When’s the last time you did something just because you wanted to?”

“Plenty of people are married to their jobs,” you begin.

“I thought you were brave, you know,” Wonwoo muses. “I thought you were someone who would realize how rare this is. It’s not like everyone is lucky enough to meet a person that completes them like this. I guess I was wrong. I guess all I was really good for was fucking you and that’s all it was.”

“Of course that’s not all it was,” you disagree. There are tears threatening to spill over. This isn’t at all how you imagined it going. You weren’t prepared for him to try to fight for you. “The last few days with you have been everything I never thought I’d experience. But, it hasn’t been real, Wonwoo. It can’t be real. Life doesn’t work that way.”

“Why can’t it?” he fires at you.

“Because I don’t deserve it!” you scream, tears finally streaming down your face. “Because you don’t know my scars. You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know the mistakes I’ve made. You don’t know that I have demons that are constantly chasing me.”

“I’m a fucking criminal,” he points out. “Who am I to judge?”

“Exactly,” you agree but rush to finish your thought before Wonwoo can interject. “You don’t…question the decisions you’ve made. You stand on everything you’ve done. But, you also do so much good with charities and helping students and just giving back. Plus, I’ve looked at your crimes. You only ever stole from the rich to sell to other rich people.”

“Yet you still were sent to chase me,” he points out.

“Yeah, who do you think pays our salaries?” you ask flatly. “My point is that…I don’t know. I’m standing here across from you and I feel like I’m the infinitely worse person in this situation.”

“It really can’t be that bad,” he reasons.

“I’ve taken lives, Wonwoo. More than I can count. And without even questioning if our reasoning was solid for taking them out. I’ve used my body in ways that I may never recover from, thinking it was my choice at the time. I’ve done what I was told and I’ve been good at it. Too good, maybe,” you say. You’re talking to yourself more than him at this point. “I’m the one they send when they don’t want a record. I’m the one they send when nobody else can do it. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life training and doing what I was told. It’s given me scars that you can’t see and won’t ever heal. All I know is this. They’re not just going to let me go. And even if they did, you don’t deserve all the baggage that I come with. You’re not a bad guy.”

“And you think you are? A bad guy?” he asks.

“I know I am,” you say.

“That’s all you are if that’s all you see, but I see so much more,” he argues.

“I still can’t just ask them to walk away,” you press.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you ask,” he says. “You deserve a chance to start fresh. To see what you can be without the weight of the world hanging over your head.”

“I don’t deserve anything more than what I have now,” you disagree.

“What about love? Do you deserve that?” he asks, changing directions.

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“And me? Do I deserve love?” he asks.

“Yes, without question,” you answer immediately.

“So give me the chance to experience love,” he begs. “I never thought I’d love anyone and I’ve never taken this kind of chance on anyone. But, I’m asking you for a chance. Just one more.”

There’s so much tension in the air between you. So many things still left unsaid and so much emotion. The air between you and him seems to crackle. A storm brews behind his eyes as he waits for you to answer him. It seems insane to think that he could feel that for you after such a short time. But, really, what do you know? You have unquestionably never been in love before, not really. There’s never been the time or space for it in your line of work. Relationships never seem to get deeper because you’re always keeping secrets. Can’t ever tell them what you really do for work. And then there’s Wonwoo. He knows so much about you already and even though it’s barely scratched the surface, it’s still more honest than you’ve ever been. He doesn’t want to run away and that scares you more than any mission you’ve ever had.

It’s just…it’s too much to decide now. You spend your whole life having to make split second decisions, yet can’t about this. Don’t have the data that you have on missions. Don’t know the pros and cons. It’s uncharted territory. It’s scary in a way you’ve never experienced. You’ve stared down the barrel of too many guns and this still feels infinitely more terrifying. Maybe he can love you after such a short amount of time because he seems to realize what you’re going to say before you say it.

“Don’t,” he says softly when you open your mouth. “I’m going to leave the day after tomorrow. I’m going to set the flight to leave at 1 in the afternoon. That gives you time to change your mind.”

“And if I don’t reach you before then?” you ask softly.

“Don’t ever expect to find me again,” he says with a finality that surprises you. When you meet his gaze, it’s harder than you’re expecting. “I really care about you and I’d love you to come with me. But I know how stubborn you are. It’s part of why I love you so much. So I’m leaving my heart open until the day after tomorrow. Then it’s over.”

“You’re an amazing person, Wonwoo,” you say and press a kiss to his cheek. “You’ve challenged a lot of my ideas about right and wrong. I’ll never forget that.”

“I’m not accepting this as goodbye. I’ll still hope to see you before I leave,” he says and presses the gentlest kiss to your forehead.

Your throat is too tight to say anything in response to that. All you can do is gather up your things and head out of the hotel room. Everything in your body feels tired from the unexpected heaviness of the conversation. It hurts to see Wonwoo looking so hurt. As crazy as it sounds, you do mean that he deserves the absolute best. You also meant it that made you rethink a lot of your preconceived notions. You actually questioned things for the first time in your adult life. Despite all of that, you still walk right out of the hotel room.

You spend nearly every minute after walking out of Wonwoo’s hotel room considering his offer. Go as far as scheduling your flight out of Buenos Aires for the same time as his. Genuinely, you’re not sure what you want to do. At least Seungcheol understood failing the mission. Somehow, he still sees it as a win that nothing was stolen from anywhere in the city while you were there. He assumes that your presence somehow spooked the notorious art thief. Thankfully he doesn’t realize just how right he is.

The biggest surprise is that Chan, the slightly overeager agent from the flight down, will be meeting you when you get on the plane. He’s only wrapping up a second mission that popped up in the area. The Agency is sending him along so that you can debrief about your actual mission and start looping him in going forward. Apparently, as great as you are and as (almost) perfect as your record is, the agency still wants to have someone for you to work with when you need them. Since that can’t be Seungcheol, he’s recommending a promising younger agent. This apparently also includes you being the one to tell him all of this yourself.

The airport is busy when you get there, an unsurprising side effect of planning flights during the afternoon. There’s also the fact that private planes have to leave from the international airport, which is always somewhat packed. Getting through customs and security is surprisingly smooth and soon you’re going to have to face your literal crossroads.

In one direction is the familiar. Nothing about working for The Agency is easy. There’s a sense of routine to it, though. A sense of generally knowing what your days or weeks or even months will look like. You know how to make coffee in the shitty break room when you’re actually on site (a rarity). You know how to play nice with the other agents. You know how all the tech works. And you’re good at the missions themselves. That’s just to say you don’t have to learn anything new. You’re lucky enough to have a semi-boss that you get along with. There’s a sense of routine to everything from mission briefings to flights to the missions themselves. There’s comfort in knowing you don’t really have to make the decisions. Sure, you have to figure out which course to take on the ground with a mission. But, that usually only means picking option A or B. All of the possible courses of action come in the briefing. You just have to evaluate the factors and figure out which pre-determined option fits best. It’s easy. As fucked up as it might be to admit, you like doing something that you know you’re good at. It’s nice to get praised for constantly succeeding. It’s the easy decision.

And in the other direction…well, it’s the unknown. Being with Wonwoo has been nothing short of the best feeling of your life. The most alive you’ve ever felt. It’s kind of crazy but part of you thinks you may love him. Can see how the whole future plays out, even if it’s not crystal clear. The two of you could start over somewhere new where he doesn’t have to steal art and you don’t have to chase criminals with questionable methods. Both of you have the funds (even if he’s better set up) to start over. Both of you clearly have the skills to disappear into the wind, too. It’s not like your legal name exists anywhere anymore. Very few people even know it, not that you would go back to it.

It’s easy to get lost in the daydream. As much as you love the sun of Buenos Aires, you can’t imagine Wonwoo in a place like that during the actual summer. Everything about him makes you think of somewhere cooler, somewhere that you’re not constantly sweating. That would let you take breaks to sunnier weather. Places where you could soak up the sun while he took refuge under an umbrella, watching you with all the affection in the world. Actually, you can picture visiting a lot of places with him. He would be the perfect travel partner to see all the beautiful corners of the world that you’ve never been able to appreciate. It’s like going somewhere for a business trip. You’re there working, not to appreciate everything around you.

There’s something kind of poetic about being at an airport as an actual crossroads in your life. It’s like you can get on a plane going anywhere. Quite literally, since you’re not sure where Wonwoo’s plane is going. Not that it really matters. If that’s the path you pick, then it’s for him rather than the destination.

The only question left is whether you’re ready to leave your entire life behind. Are you ready to say goodbye to the agency that saved you? Are you ready to cut yourself off from the few people who actually know you and accept you as you are? Can you live without having any closure on that part of your life? Would you feel guilty that Seungcheol would be left with a million questions about what happened to you? Or would it hurt you to know that he would blame himself for your disappearance somehow? Then again, maybe he would know, on some level, that you just finally reached the point of needing to walk away. That’s something you and him have talked about before, in the early hours of the morning after too much to drink. What would you do if you could walk away from this life? What would life after The Agency look like?

With a deep breath, you pick your path and you don’t look back. That’s the only way you know you’ll have the strength in your decision.

i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it! please reblog or comment and let me know 💕

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darlingdaisyfarm · 5 months ago

Text

Tourist trap (Stan Pines x fem!reader)

minors dni

Stan is very fond of tourists who believe his stories.

tags: nsfw, smut, p in v, fingering, riding, desk sex, semi-public, praise, sir kink, rough sex

You shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wide-eyed and excited, as you clutched your little Mystery Shack brochure in your hand. It was all crumpled from being folded and unfolded too many times, but you couldn’t stop reading all the incredible things advertised on it.

"See the world-famous Sasquatch Skull up close! Touch the Alien Artifacts nobody else believes in!"

You believed it all. Every last word. After all, you’re such a lover of the unknown.

Your group of tourists shuffles around you, mostly adults who looks really unimpressed, grumbling about the entrance fee. You’re the only one whose eyes are wide with excitement and who literally trembles from excitement to see everything the Shack have to offer. And that’s exactly what catches his eye.

Stan Pines stands in the doorway, leaning on his cane, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You don’t notice how his eyes scans over you, how he takes in every little detail: the innocent excitement, the way you’re practically throwing your money at the gift shop already and that naive, gullible glow about you. You practically skip forward, not noticing how Stan’s eyes linger on you. He can tell right away — you aren’t just any tourist. No, you’re special. Too trustful. Sweet. The kind that believe every ridiculous thing he’d ever put on display.

And isn’t that just. . . adorable?

The tour starts and you trail behind him eagerly, eyes wide and shining as he tells stories about the various "creatures" and "relics" in the Shack. Part of you is convinced that every word is true, that you’re standing in the presence of real magic, real mystery.

Stan notices you hanging on his every word and it makes something stir in him. The way your lips parts just a little, these little “wow” and “ohh” you make, the way your eyes follow his every move. Meanwhile other tourists roll their eyes or sigh, bored out of their minds, but not you. You’re his favorite kind of visitor — the kind that made his job fun

"So," Stan starts, turning to you with a glint in his eye as the rest of the group wanders off, "what do you think of this, doll? Pretty impressive, huh?"

You nod enthusiastically, clutching your bag of over-priced trinkets and souvenirs. "It’s amazing, sir! i can’t believe im seeing all this in real life! i mean, is the Sasquatch skull really real? And the alien artifacts, are they, like, actually from space?!"

"Well, aren’t you just the cutest little tourist I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, leaning slightly towards you and letting out a chuckle “most people come in here and they laugh it off. Say it’s all fake, but not you. You really believe in this, don’t you?”

“Yeah! ive always dreamed of visiting such a cool place! thank you, sir, it’ll remain a good memory,” you giggle.

“Ohh, sweetheart, if you’re such a fan, maybe i can show you some of the mysteries we keep hidden from the average tourists.” he absolutely loves how wide-eyed and trusting you are. You really believe every word he tells you?

Your eyes light up, completely oblivious to the hungry look in his eyes. "Really? You’d do that?"

Stan rubs his chin, pretending to think it over, though the grin never left his face. “Hmm,” he looks at you for a couple more seconds before he tells you you. “for you, dear? Anything.”

He leads you away from the main part of the Shack, down a hallway lined with dusty old portraits and broken light fixtures. You don’t even notice how quiet it is now as the rest of the tour group far behind. All you can think about was the excitement bubbling inside you, the thrill of seeing something “exclusive.”

Stan opens a creaky door at the end of the hall and motions for you to step inside. You eagerly obey, stepping into a dimly lit room filled with more strange objects, things that weren’t part of the normal tour. At least, that’s what Stan told you.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, the two of you now alone and you never really noticed how close he suddenly got, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you further into the room, its cluttered with strange artifacts, most of which hadn’t made it to the main display.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you look around at the dusty shelves. "Wow!" you gasped, wide-eyed. “What’s that? and that?! oh my gosh, is that a real shrunken head?!”

Stan chuckles, settling himself down in an old chair near desk before patting his lap. “Why don’t you come here, doll? I’ll give you a closer look.” there was something in his voice. . . something that should alert you, but you’re too caught up in your excitement to notice it.

Without a second thought, you plop yourself down on his lap, leaning forward to inspect the nearest artifact, still firing off a barrage of questions. "What’s this one? and where did you get it? oh god, is it really cursed?!"

Stan grunts, adjusting you a bit closer as his hands settled on your hips. He leans forward slightly, his mouth near your ear as he begins to explain some ridiculous story about the origins of the objects. But you barely notice how his fingers start to slip lower, just lightly brushing along the hem of your skirt.

You keep talking, completely oblivious, your words spilling out in an excited rush. “This is so cool! i can’t believe no one else gets to see this! i-“ your voice hitches as Stan’s hand slides further up your thigh, his thick fingers grazing the edge of your panties.

He continues talking as if nothing happens. “This here is an ancient artifact from South America. Supposedly cursed, but, eh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” he pauses, his hand gently pressing against the softness of your thigh as he keeps you pinned on his lap.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you tried to focus on his words, nodding as you squirmed a little. “W-wow, that’s- that’s so cool!” your voice breathy as Stan’s fingers brushes lightly along the edge of your panties, teasing you.

“Yeah, real cool, huh?” he asks you, still as if nothing happened, his other hand sliding up your waist to grip your side, so you wouldn’t move that much. His fingers dip lower, grazing the fabric of your panties before slipping just beneath it. “aaand this one here,” he continues, “it’s said to have belonged to an ancient tribe. Powerful stuff.”

You can barely process what he’s saying, your mind blank as his fingers lightly tease along your slit, collecting the wetness that was beginning to pool there. You shift in his lap, trying to stifle the soft whimper that escape your lips, your legs pressing together.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asks in a playful, no, mocking tone, while his fingers now lightly caressing your clit. “You seem a little distracted. Thought you wanted to hear about all these mysteries*.”

“I- I do!” you stutter. “It’s just- s-sir!”

“Just what?” Stan interrupts, his fingers now slipping lower, pressing firmly against your entrance. His other hand grips your waist, holding you firmly in place as you instinctively try to buck your hips against his hand.

You whine softly, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "I-I just. . . oh god-“

Stan smirks. “You’re so cute, sweetheart,” he nuzzles your neck, his fingers now teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of one finger inside your throbbing cunt. “asking all these questions while sitting in my lap like a good little girl.”

You sob, your hips rocking against his hand without even realizing it. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsing beneath you, pressing against your ass, but Stan keeps his focus on you, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wetness, never stopping his stories.

“This one is said to have special. . . powers. Like it can make someone go crazy with just one touch.” he chuckles, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made you gasp and clench around him.

Your head spinning, your body aching with need, completely at his mercy as he tease and play with you, all while still pretending like it was just another tour.

Stan’s smirk widens as he feels you trembling in his lap, the way you quietly moan, your face and body both hot. He keeps his voice steady, still saying some ridiculous story about the artifacts, but his fingers never stops their teasing.

“So, this piece here was said to be used in rituals. Uhh, something about unlocking a person’s deepest desires, makin’ ’em lose all sense of control.” its not difficult for him to imagine these false stories, he is an experienced lier after all. You try to listen, try to understand what he’s saying, but that’s just impossible to do as he presses his thumb harder against your needy bud, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. You whimper, barely able to focus on his words. Your body burning, every nerve ending tingling as his rough fingers stroke and tease your throbbing pussy. Your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more, but you’re too shy, too embarrassed to ask for it.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? you were askin’ so many questions before, now you’re all quiet?” his thumb circles your clit a little bit faster and your body jolts from pleasure, a soft cry escaping your lips before you could stop it.

“I’m just-“ you stammer, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you squirm in his lap. “I c-can’t, sir, can’t think”

He chuckles, now pushing two thick fingers deep inside your tight, clenching cunt. You gasp and your back arch against him as he starts to pump them slowly, curling and scissoring his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your whole body tremble. What a lovely sounds you’re making.

“Aww you poor thing, so lost, huh? cant even think straight, can ya?”

You whimper, biting your lip as you try to stifle the noises that are spilling out of you, but it’s useless. Your hips are moving on their own, grinding against his hand as you clung to his shirt, “sir” and “please” leaving your mouth as his fingers stretch you so well.

“Just relax, doll, I’ll take care of you. Just listen to me.” his fingers pumped harder inside your pulsing pussy. “you wanted a tour, right?”

You nodded weakly, not even listening him, unable to focus on anything but the way his fingers were fucking into you, the wet sounds of your dripping pussy filling the small room. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you lose your mind.

“So this here,” he continued, his voice still calm despite the way you were practically writhing in his lap, “was used by an ancient tribe. Supposedly, they thought it could help them communicate with the gods, but I think it’s more useful for somethin’ else. . . don’t you, sweetheart?”

You could only sob in response, your body trembling as his fingers drove deeper, stretching your tight walls, his thumb never leaving your poor sensitive clit, your muscles clenching around his fingers as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises as he watches you squirm in his lap, your wetness coating his fingers. “so cute, all worked up like this. You gonna cum for me, doll?” you nod , your hips bucking against his hand, his fingers thrusting deeper inside your aching cunt. Stan laughs at that pathetic sight, his fingers moving faster now, fucking you hard and deep, your pussy clenching around his digits. “Go on, princess, cum on my fingers.” you exhale when Stan finally let you finish. With a strangled cry, your body shakes, your cunt clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. Your eyes rolled and brain fucking melted as you shudder in his lap.

Stan grinned, watching you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, such a good little doll for me.”

His hand rests on your breast, first slowly and gently caressing it. His fingers find your nipple and give it a light squeeze, drawing another sound from you. Stan smirks to himself as he feels you shaking in his lap, your body responding to every little touch he gave you. His fingers still buried deep inside you, moving at a slow, teasing pace that had you on edge, desperate for more. You can barely sit still, squirming against him, your breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps.

His fingers curling inside you again, and you whimper, your hips jerking in response. “You want somethin’, don’t you? you gotta tell me what you need, doll.”

Your mind foggy, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers keep working you over, drawing soft, desperate noises from your parted lips. You could barely think straight, let alone put together a proper sentence. “pl-please, sir”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your struggle. “Please what, sweetheart? you gotta use your words if you want somethin’ from me.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself together, but it’s damn impossible with the way his big fingers thrusting inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. You can feel the heat building inside you again, that desperate, aching need, but of something bigger than just his fingers. You need to be filled, to have your brains fucked out. “I need more. . .”

“More, baby? you want my fingers to go faster? is that what you mean?”

You shake your head frantically, your whole body aching for something else. “No, I need- need your cock, sir-“

He raise his eyebrows in a fake surprise. “Oh, is that what you’ve been tryin’ to say this whole time? you’re beggin’ for it now, huh? pretty little thing, all desperate for me to fuck you?”

You whimper softly, your hips moving on their own, trying to push down on his hand for more friction, more pressure, but he holds you still, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Please, sir,” you whisper and nearly cry because of horrible emptiness you’re feeling. “please just fuck me, sir, i need you!”

“You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous today, sweetheart,” he tells you, his hand finally pulling away from your dripping slit. “don’t say i never gave you nothin’.”

Before you can even process whats happening, Stan shifts you in his lap, his strong hands lifting your hips and positioning you right above his length. You can feel his cock, already hard and throbbing beneath you, pressing up against your soaked entrance, and your whole body tense, your breath catching in your throat.

Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he lines himself up with your glistening cunt, spreading your folds. “You ready for it, doll?” he asks. “this what you’ve been beggin’ for?”

You nod quickly, fuck enough of questions, you thought. “Yes,” you whisper. “yes yes yes, ple-“ but before you can even finish, he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. You immediately gasp at the new sensation, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as your body adjusts to the sudden fullness. Oh god, it’s thick, so hard, filling you completely and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside you, every vein, it feels so hot.

Stan huffs out, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re tight. like you were made for this, doll.”

You whimper softly, holding on him, your body trembling as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It’s almost too much, the way he stretches you so perfectly, the way he fills you completely. You can barely breathe.

Stan gives you a moment to adjust. his cock pulsing inside you. “There we go,” he mutters watching your brows furrowing. “Just like that. . . you’re doin’ so good, babygirl.”

You moan again, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, and you feel him twitch inside you,. “I. . . nhhah, s-sir”

He leans towards you and kisses your forehead, his hands guiding your hips to start moving, slowly at first. “Go on, princess. Ride me, let me see how bad you want it.”

You bite your lip nervously as you’ve never been in this pose before, you slowly start to move, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto his cock. It feels incredible, the way his cock stretches you open, hitting all sweet spots inside you. You feel the tension building inside you again, that same desperate, aching need, and you whimper again and again, your hips moving faster as your cunt tightening around him.

Stan’s eyes locks with yours as he guides your movements, kissing your neck. “That’s it, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good, yesss, such a good girl, ridin’ me like that.”

You cry out at his words, what a sweet praise, your body moving on its own now, your hips grinding down against him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You can barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming your senses, your mind clouded, you can’t even maintain the eye contact.

Stan’s hands moves to your waist, holding you steady as he starts thrusting up into you, meeting your movements with deep, powerful thrusts. You whine, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for support as he fucks you, your mouth hangs open while he fucks you faster and harder with each thrust, he holds you so tightly, squeezing your body while you ride him.

You gasp. “I- I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead, doll, cum for me, let me feel it.”

Your body tensed, your walls clenching around his cock as your orgasm hits you hard. Your body shaking, trembling in his lap as you cumming, rambling pleas leave your mouth when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing sweetly against your cervix. Stan groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrusts up into you harder, deeper, drawing out your pleasure as long as he can. “That’s it, such a good girl, baby. . . so fuckin’ tight.”

You fall on his chest, still shaking, your mind still spinning from the intensity of it all. You can feel him still throbbing inside you, still hard, and you whimper softly, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, he’s clearly not planning on pulling out.

After you manage to get your breathing back to normal at least a little you feel his hands still all over you, roughly dragging you up and laying you out on the old wooden table. Your legs tremble, spread wide as he stares down at you, taking in the sight like you’re his prize, his fucking reward.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” grin crosses his lips as he grabs your thighs, pulling you right to the edge of the table before slamming his cock back inside your pussy, forcing a cry from your throat. Your body jolts at the sudden penetration, and you moan again, legs wrapping around his waist as he starts pounding into you again. Hard. Rough. Fast. There’s not a drop of mercy in his movements, he's not holding back, fucking you like you're just a thing for him to use. Your sweet moans and that pathetic "sl-slow down!" sound like music to his ears.

His hands all over you, squeezing, groping, touching. He grabs your breasts, kneading them, pinching your nipples through your shirt so hard you whimper, arching your back off the table. He groans at that, leaning in close, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “Fuck, you feel heavenly, baby, can’t get enough of this sweet little cunt.”

His fingers finds your clit, rubbing circles around it, teasing you until you can’t stop the pathetic whines spilling from your lips. He keeps fucking you harder, his hips slamming against yours, the table creaking under the weight of it all. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your gasps, your moans, your begs and his grunts as he’s pounding into you like he was starving for it.

“Look at you,” he looks down at your flushed, wrecked body, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Such a fucking good girl for me, huh? letting me use this pretty little pussy however I want.”

You can’t really form words, can’t do anything but take it. Your so brain fucked, body burning, you’re so close you can’t think straight. He’s rough, fast, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you higher, higher, until you can’t hold back anymore. You cum hard, again, your pussy squeezing his cock well.

But Stan doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, fucking you right through it, ruining your pussy, even harder now, his hips snaps into you, faster, rougher, and you can feel the slick mess between your thighs, the obscene sound of it only making it filthier. You're choking on your moans.

“Ugh, gonna cum inside you, doll,” he groans. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, you want that? you want me to fucking fill you up?”

You nod frantically, too far gone to care about anything else, and with one last, hard thrust, he buries himself so deep, his cock pulsing as he finishes inside you. You feel how warm it is, his cum filling you up, spilling out of you as he keeps thrusting, riding out his high.

Finally, he slows down, pulling out with a groan, and you collapse back on the table, spent, utterly wrecked. Youre literally shaking, panting, his cum dripping out of your used pussy onto the wood below. Stan stands there, catching his breath, looking down at you and all that dirty mess, what a beautiful sight: your legs trembling, your body marked with his touch and his cum leaking from between your thighs.

He leans over. “you know, guess I'll give you a discount for that pretty face of yours.”

#stan pines smut #gravity falls smut #gravity falls x you #gravity falls x reader #x reader #Smut #stan pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines #stanley pines x you #gravity falls #stan pines x you

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kiwriteswords · 6 days ago

Note

congrats on your 2k 🎉

for missing scene Monday, could we get bearded Hotch's new gf he met on his secret assignment in Pakistan?? I'll leave it to you if you want to extend it back to the US and the BAU team!!

Just begging for anything with bearded Hotch and yes this was inspired by your 2k celebration gif choices ❤️ love ya!

Let It Be [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||Main Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 8k|| AN: Thank you so much for sending this request so early for day one! I was able to get a head start on this last week, and I really love how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon-divergent, beard!hotch, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, banter, Hotch in Pakistan, non!BAU reader, kinda left tbc?

Summary: Hotch meets you on assignment in Pakistan, and you're exactly what he was looking for...someone who's just there without pushing.

The sun was relentless, bearing down on the barren expanse surrounding the base. Sweat collected under your tactical gear, but you barely noticed. It was the kind of heat that stripped away all distractions, leaving you focused on the mission ahead--or at least trying to be.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel bag and glanced around the bustling camp. This wasn’t your first special operations assignment, but the tension in the air felt different here. Heavier.

It could have just been you dragging the weight of unresolved emotions halfway across the world, or it could have been the stakes of the mission--a dangerous operation involving an international terrorist cell that required precision, discretion, and teamwork between agencies not known for always getting along.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

The voice was deep, cutting through the camp noise. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man, his sharp features etched into a permanent state of seriousness. His gaze was steady, and his presence commanded attention without effort.

“That’s me,” you replied, clipped but polite.

He stepped closer, extending a hand. “Aaron Hotchner, unit chief for the BAU.”

The name was familiar. You had read the reports and heard the stories--his work on high-profile cases, his leadership, and his reputation for being unflinchingly methodical. You shook his hand, noting the firm grip and how it matched the intensity in his dark eyes.

“Special Agent Y/L/N, CIA Directorate of Operations,” you said, introducing yourself with the same straightforward efficiency. “Behavioral analyst and covert operations specialist.”

His brow shifted slightly, just enough for you to notice. He nodded, acknowledging your credentials with a quiet respect.

“Briefing starts in five,” he said, his tone all business. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you with the distinct impression that there was more to him than the stoic exterior he projected. You had worked with people like him before--people who carried their burdens in silence--but something about the weight in his eyes made you wonder if he had brought his own ghosts to this mission, much like you had.

….

The first few days were a blur of briefings, strategy sessions, and late nights poring over intel. You didn’t interact much with Hotch beyond the occasional exchange of information, but you caught yourself noticing him. The way he carried himself--calm and composed, but with an edge of tension that never seemed to leave him. You recognized it because you felt it, too.

As you reviewed reports in the command tent one night, he walked in, filling the space. He set a folder on the table and glanced at you.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, not a question but an observation.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on the documents in front of you. “So have you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied, his tone neutral.

“So am I.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat across from you, his gaze steady.

“It’s easier to keep busy,” he said quietly as if he was sharing a truth he rarely voiced.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was something there--something raw and unspoken. You wanted to ask what he was running from, but you didn’t. You weren’t ready to share your own truths, so you didn’t ask for his.

….

The nights were the hardest. The quiet gave your mind too much room to wander, dredging up memories you’d rather forget. One evening, you found yourself outside, staring at the vast expanse of desert under a blanket of stars. You didn’t expect company, but the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

It was Hotch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing beside you.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

For a while, you just stood there, the silence between you feeling strangely comfortable.

“I read your file,” he said eventually, his tone careful.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you now?”

“You’ve handled some difficult assignments. Made a name for yourself.”

There was no arrogance in his words; it was just observation.

“Guess you could say I have a knack for throwing myself into the fire,” you replied. Something flashed across his face like he was going to respond with something, but he didn’t.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but his presence was steady, almost calming.

“Why are you really here?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Nobody in their right mind would have volunteered for this unless they either A) had nobody to go home to at night, or B) were trying to forget about something else. You could tell by the small photo Hotch carried around of, presumably, his son it wasn’t option A.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “Because it’s easier than being back home.”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. Same.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What are you running from?”

You hesitated, the question hitting too close to home. “A mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.”

He didn’t press for details, and you were grateful. Instead, he said, “Sometimes running is the only way to keep moving.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if you agreed.

……

As the mission dragged on, the weight of it started to press down on both of you. You began to notice how Hotch avoided certain topics, not that personal topics frequently came up. You noticed how his eyes darkened when the name "Prentiss" came up from the communication specialist on the special ops team.

You didn’t ask--he didn’t offer--but the pieces slowly started to come together. You had to be living under a rock in this field not to have heard about the major loss the BAU took this past year.

One night, after another tense meeting, you found yourselves in the makeshift kitchen, both reaching for the last cup of coffee.

“You take it,” you said, stepping back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I insist. I’ve had worse days.”

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of understanding. “I doubt that.”

You smirked, the slightest crack in your guarded exterior. “Careful, Hotchner. That almost sounded like empathy.”

His lips twitched--the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. “Don’t get used to it.”

….

A sudden sandstorm sent the entire team scrambling for cover. The wind howled outside the command tent, shaking the canvas walls as you huddled with Hotch and two other agents.

“Typical,” you muttered, brushing sand off your gear. “Mission’s hard enough without Mother Nature making it worse.”

Hotch sat across from you, his expression unreadable as he tightened the straps on his vest. He was scruffier than he was when you first arrived. It wasn’t a bad look, but you brushed down that thought.

“You’ve been through worse,” he said matter-of-factly, not a question but a statement.

You let out a short laugh. “Don’t give me too much credit, Hotchner. I’m not invincible.”

“No one is,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “But you’re resilient. I can see that.”

The compliment, if you could call it that, caught you off guard. You didn’t reply, unsure how to. Instead, you focused on the storm outside, the roar of the wind drowning out everything else.

But later, when the storm passed, and you stepped out into the eerily quiet desert, you found yourself glancing at Hotch. He met your gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passed between you--a mutual respect, a shared understanding.

….

It was late, and the compound was finally quiet. You were seated at a makeshift table, cleaning your sidearm, when Hotch approached with two cups of coffee.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as he set one down in front of you.

“I doubt that,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

You took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “God, this is terrible.”

“It’s coffee,” he said with a small shrug as if that explained everything.

You glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Do you ever lighten up, Hotchner?”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “On occasion.”

“Define ‘occasion.’”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the weapon in your hands. “When it’s earned,” he said finally.

It was a cryptic response, but it made you smile anyway. “Well, I’ll consider this progress.”

He sat with you in silence, but it was comfortable. The company was more needed than either of you realized.

….

The day had been relentless, the kind that left your muscles aching and your mind frayed at the edges. You had lost count of how many hours you’d been awake--thirty, maybe forty. Every bone in your body screamed for rest, but the tension from the mission had settled into your chest, making sleep impossible.

You found yourself outside the command tent, slumping onto an old crate with a half-empty water bottle in your hand. The distant hum of generators buzzed like a white noise machine, masking the desert’s eerie quiet.

Hotch appeared a few minutes later, wordlessly lowering himself onto the crate beside you. His presence, steady as always, should have been comforting, but tonight it only made the lump in your throat harder to ignore.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You told yourself you liked the silence, but the truth was, it gave your thoughts too much room to spiral. Your chest felt tight, and despite the coolness of the night, your face burned with exhaustion-fueled frustration.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Hotch turned his head toward you, his face unreadable but his attention sharp. “Why do you say that?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert. “Because I’m running. I didn’t know what else to do.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own admission. “I thought putting space between me and...everything would help, but maybe it just makes it worse.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and you instantly regretted saying them. You felt exposed, as though admitting it aloud would make it all the more real. Your hands fidgeted with the bottle, and you kept your gaze fixed ahead, unwilling to meet his.

You thought about the way your life had pretty much unraveled around you back at home. If it wasn’t for work, you’re not sure you’d still be standing on your two feet. Here you could be the strong, independent person you aspired to be. At home, you were heartbroken without an end in sight.

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then, in that low, even voice of his, he said, “It doesn’t make it worse. It just makes it...quieter. And sometimes quiet is all you can handle.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked softly, the rawness in your voice betraying how fragile you felt.

He nodded, barely perceptible, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “I thought being here might help me make sense of things. But some things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Some things don’t have answers.”

There was something about the way he said it--not defensive, not self-pitying, just honest. It broke through the dam inside you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you might cry.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening. The weight of his answer settled between you, tangible and heavy, yet somehow reassuring.

For the first time, the silence felt like a shared space rather than an empty one. You didn’t push for more. You couldn’t, not with your emotions already threatening to overflow. But as the desert night pressed in around you, you realized you didn’t need to.

Whatever walls you both had built were starting to crumble, and neither of you seemed inclined to stop it.

…..

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with the smell of rust and dust. You moved carefully, your weapon drawn and your eyes scanning every shadow. Hotch was just behind you, silent but steady, his presence grounding you in the tense atmosphere.

The intel had been solid: a potential threat against the local embassy was being planned here, and your team had been tasked with gathering evidence. But now, as you crept deeper into the maze of crates and machinery, something felt off. The place was too quiet.

A faint creak made you freeze. You glanced back at Hotch, and he gave a subtle nod, his dark eyes sharp with focus. He gestured for you to take the left while he veered right. You obeyed without question, trusting his instincts as much as your own.

You edged around a stack of crates, your pulse quickening. The sound came again--a faint shuffle, followed by a whisper of movement. You tightened your grip on your weapon, adrenaline flooding your system.

Then everything exploded at once.

A figure lunged from the shadows, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your weapon clattered to the floor as you struggled against the assailant, their grip bruising as they tried to pin you down.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

You twisted, freeing one arm, and drove your elbow into the attacker’s side. They grunted, loosening their grip just enough for you to push them off. But before you could retrieve your weapon, another figure appeared, this one heading straight for Hotch.

“Behind you!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

Hotch spun just in time, deflecting the attacker’s blow and delivering a calculated strike that sent them stumbling. But the odds were quickly stacking against you--more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

“Fall back!” Hotch ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

You grabbed your weapon and fell into step beside him as the two of you retreated toward the exit. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second.

“We’re not going to make it out clean,” you said, your voice tight as you scanned for cover.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have to. We just need to slow them down.”

He pointed to a stack of crates near the exit, and you understood immediately. You fired a few shots, not aiming to hit but to force your pursuers to take cover. Then, together, you pushed the nearest crate, toppling it over and creating a barricade that bought you a few precious seconds.

“Go!” Hotch barked, motioning for you to move ahead.

“No way,” you snapped, falling into position beside him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken passing between you. It wasn’t the time for arguments, so he didn’t push it.

The two of you moved as one, covering each other as you navigated the narrow corridors toward the exit. Your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn’t let it distract you. Hotch’s steady presence was all you focused on, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

Finally, you burst into the open air, the sounds of shouting and gunfire fading behind you. You didn’t stop running until you reached the safety of the extraction point, where reinforcements were waiting.

You doubled over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. Hotch was beside you, his breathing heavy but controlled.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, a faint flicker of dry humor in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “That’s one way to bond, I guess.”

Hotch glanced at you, and for the first time since the mission began, you saw something close to a smile on his face. It was brief, but it was real.

“Good work out there,” he said simply.

“Right back at you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, you realized just how much you trusted him--not just as a colleague, but as someone who had your back, no matter what. And from the way he looked at you, you had the feeling he felt the same.

….

The day had been unusually quiet. The base hummed with its usual activity, but the weight in the air seemed heavier that day. You had noticed it the moment you walked into the briefing room. Hotch had been there, as he always was, but there was something off.

His usual sharp focus felt dulled, his replies curt even for his standards. He spent more time staring at his tablet than actually reading it, and the lines etched into his face seemed deeper somehow.

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to know something was wrong.

Now, hours later, you found him alone in the makeshift command tent, the harsh glow of a desk lamp illuminating the strain on his features. He was seated, elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him, staring at a map as if willing it to make sense.

“You’re still at it?” you asked gently, stepping inside.

His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at you. “There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“There always is,” you replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “But it’s late. You should take a break.”

“I can’t afford to.”

The edge in his voice wasn’t aimed at you, but it still made you hesitate. You considered leaving him to his work, but something kept you there.

“Hotch,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “What’s going on?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by something heavy. For a moment, you thought he might tell you, but then his expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone measured but distant.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. But you also knew better than to push.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to have off days, you know. Even you.”

His lips twitched, almost a humorless smile. “I don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re human,” you countered, your tone steady but not pressing. “It’s not a luxury. It’s just...life.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the table. But his hands, usually so still, were fidgeting now--his fingers twisting the edge of the map absentmindedly.

You let the silence settle between you, giving him space. After a few minutes, you stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner of the tent. You poured two cups, setting one down in front of him without a word before returning to your seat.

Hotch stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“It’s fine,” he said abruptly, almost as if he was telling it to himself, though his tone betrayed him. “I just--” He stopped, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever he’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “We all have those days.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “This one feels heavier.”

You didn’t know what he was carrying--something about him always felt impenetrable, as though he kept the world at arm’s length. But you didn’t need to know the specifics to recognize the weight he was under.

“You’re allowed to let it feel heavy,” you said after a moment, watching his reaction carefully.

Hotch’s hand tightened around the coffee cup, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face before his walls went back up. “I shouldn’t let it distract me,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. “Maybe letting yourself feel it for five minutes wouldn’t be a distraction. Maybe it’d just be human.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw shifted as though he was grinding his teeth. His silence didn’t bother you--it was enough to just sit there, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not digging,” he said, finally looking at you. His gaze softened just enough to make your chest ache. “For just...being here.”

You offered a small smile, reaching across the table and resting your hand lightly over his. It wasn’t much, but the way his shoulders relaxed told you it was enough.

“I’ve got your back,” you said simply. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

Hotch nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the cup before setting it down. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room felt lighter somehow.

The two of you sat there in silence, the night pressing in around you. And while the weight of whatever he was carrying didn’t disappear, you could tell it didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

…

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, reflecting off the shallow, winding river that cut through the barren terrain. You adjusted your gear, sweat dripping down your temple as you followed Hotch’s lead. The mission had gone sideways--nothing catastrophic, but the extraction point was now miles further than planned, and the only route was straight through the rocky riverbed.

“Watch your step,” Hotch warned as he leaped from one jagged boulder to another. His movements were precise, practiced, but you could tell the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him.

“I was planning to fall flat on my face,” you replied, the edge of sarcasm in your voice lighthearted enough to soften the tension.

His lips twitched, that almost-smile you’d grown accustomed to. “Let’s avoid that.”

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was deceptively strong. The rocks were uneven; some were slick with moss, and others were barely stable. The whole setup was a sprained ankle--or worse--waiting to happen.

You made it halfway across before your boot slipped on a loose stone, your footing completely giving out beneath you. You stumbled, and the weight of your gear made it impossible to regain your balance.

Before you could hit the water, a substantial hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. The force of it brought you chest-to-chest with Hotch, his grip firm and steady.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” you managed, your own breath catching as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

His dark eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in them--concern, maybe, or something deeper. He didn’t let go right away, his hand lingering on your arm as though he needed to make sure you were truly steady.

“I told you to watch your step,” he said finally, his tone softer than usual. His words did not match the gentleness in his tone.

“And I told you I was planning to fall,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a wry smile.

His lips twitched again, but this time, it felt closer to a real smile. His hand slipped away reluctantly, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he stepped back.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice all business again, though you caught the slight shift in his expression--something unguarded, fleeting, but unmistakably there.

…

The day’s trek had left you both bone-weary, but the setting sun brought with it a chill that seeped into your skin. The fire crackled low between you as you sat on overturned crates, the glow casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcrop that served as your makeshift camp for the night.

You had stripped down to your undershirt, your jacket drying on a nearby rock after the river crossing. Hotch sat across from you, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his neck, his usual stoicism slightly cracked by the day’s exhaustion.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” you commented, watching him massage the tension from his muscles.

“So will you,” he replied, his eyes flicking to your bruised forearm from the earlier stumble.

“I bounce back quickly,” you said lightly. “You, on the other hand, might want to consider a hot bath.”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “I’ll add that to the list of luxuries I’m missing out on.”

“Right after edible food,” you added, holding up the protein bar you’d been gnawing on. “This is basically punishment.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, and it made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire and the rare ease of the moment settle over you.

“You’re not always so serious, are you?” you asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Hotch glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Depends on the company.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion and something deeper--something you couldn’t quite name but felt pulled toward.

“Well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you before he nodded slightly. “You should.”

The fire had long since burned down to embers, but neither of you had moved. The quiet was comfortable now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

“You’re different,” Hotch said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, not heavy, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect.

“Different how?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t push,” he said simply. “Most people do. They want something, even if they don’t say it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “Maybe I just know what it’s like to need space.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze dropping to the glowing embers. “It’s rare,” he said quietly. “And...appreciated.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized with a startling clarity that you didn’t want this moment to end. The mission, the chaos, the fleeting moments of quiet connection--they’d all built to this, and you weren’t ready to let it go.

You didn’t say anything, but you shifted closer, just enough that your knee brushed against his. He didn’t move away, and the warmth of his presence felt like an anchor in the cool desert night.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But when he finally looked at you, the guarded distance in his eyes had softened, replaced by something you couldn’t name but felt deeply.

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, his voice low but gentle. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

You nodded, standing and brushing the dust from your pants. But as you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him. “Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night,” he replied, his gaze following you as you walked away.

And for the first time since this mission began, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time--something you weren’t sure you could name but couldn’t deny was there.

…..

The air in the base felt heavier than usual. The usual hum of activity buzzed in the background, but your focus was locked on the figure in front of you--Aaron Hotchner, standing by the transport vehicle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. A stark contrast to how he had shown up so long ago. Now, slimmer and with a face full of facial hair.

You hadn’t expected the mission to end like this--not with him leaving before it was over. The news had come down hours ago: he had been called back stateside. No explanation, no warning. Just orders.

“Something urgent?” you asked, keeping your tone steady even as you struggled to meet his eyes.

He nodded, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight, a tell you’d come to recognize. “I have to return to Quantico. The team needs me.”

Of course, they do, you thought. You had known from the beginning that this wasn’t his world. His world was back home, leading the BAU, carrying burdens most people couldn’t fathom. Still, the abruptness of his departure left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You stepped closer, your arms crossed, not out of defiance but to keep yourself grounded. “We’ll manage here,” you said, the words feeling both true and hollow.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, his dark eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You will,” he said, his voice low. “You’re good at this.”

A faint, humorless laugh escaped you. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was,” he replied, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. You weren’t naive. Whatever had brought him here was bigger than the mission, bigger than you. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him leave.

“Will you be back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Hotch hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his answer hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nodded. “Well, in case you don’t…you know, good luck, Hotch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if committing your face to memory. Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer. His hand reached out, resting lightly on your arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For being here. For making this easier,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You searched his eyes, the words catching in your throat. Instead of speaking, you reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on your arm, the small gesture saying more than words could.

His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his professional mask sliding into place once more.

“They’re waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Go. They need you more than we do.”

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to yours one last time. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

And then he turned and climbed into the vehicle. You stood there, watching as it pulled away, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing second.

When the dust finally settled, and the vehicle disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, the reality of his absence sinking in.

You hadn’t expected this assignment to change anything. But now, as you stood alone under the relentless desert sun, you realized just how much it had--and how much he had.

You weren’t sure how you’d get over missing him the way you felt the minute he left your side.

…

The harsh glow of the tent's fluorescent light was a poor substitute for the sun. You rubbed your temples, trying to chase away the dull ache that had settled behind your eyes after hours of pouring over intel. The mission dragged on, one step forward and two steps back, and you were beginning to feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

The faint crackle of the comm system startled you, drawing your attention to the communications officer stationed at the other end of the tent. His head tilted, listening intently before he turned and called out, “Y/L/N, secure line for you. Priority channel.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. Secure lines weren’t uncommon, but they were usually pre-arranged. Rising from your chair, you crossed the tent, curiosity buzzing in the back of your mind.

When you picked up the headset, the officer handed you a notepad with a string of verification codes scrawled across it. “Verify the code,” he instructed.

You input the code into the secure terminal, and after a moment, the line cleared. “This is Y/L/N,” you said cautiously.

There was a beat of silence, then a familiar voice. “It’s Hotch.”

Back in Quantico, Hotch leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the phone tighter than necessary. The bullpen below his office was dim and quiet--most of the team had left for the night, but the stillness did little to ease the weight pressing on him.

The fallout from the Ian Doyle case was still reverberating through the BAU. Emily’s return had blindsided the team, and though he had tried to justify the deception, the cracks in their trust were impossible to ignore. Strauss’s scrutiny had sharpened, and his every decision seemed to be under a magnifying glass.

He hadn’t called to talk about any of that. He couldn’t.

But the familiar tension in his chest--the suffocating combination of guilt, stress, and isolation--had driven him to dial the secure line. He wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, but when your voice filtered through the line, steady and sure, it was like a knot in his chest loosened.

You straightened instinctively, surprise rippling through you. “Hotch,” you repeated, unable to keep the astonishment from your tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not…no,” you assured him, leaning against the edge of the table. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough for you to sense the weight behind it. “I just wanted to check-in. See how things are going on your end.”

You frowned slightly, his words not matching the tension you could hear in his voice. “Things are...as expected. Slow, frustrating, and complicated. But manageable.”

“Good,” he said, the word clipped, almost distracted.

You weren’t a profiler, but the exhaustion in his tone was unmistakable. He sounded like a man carrying too many burdens, with no room to set them down.

“You sound tired,” you said gently, knowing better than to pry.

He let out a soft exhale, the kind that felt heavier than it should. “It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted, though his words felt like an understatement.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, your voice cutting through the static in his mind. He could still see the look on Morgan’s face when Emily had walked into the room, the betrayal simmering under the surface. He could hear the edge in Strauss’s tone as she grilled him about his decision to keep the team in the dark.

But here, with you, there was no judgment. No interrogation.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” you asked, keeping your tone light but genuine.

A soft scoff met your ears. “I’m trying,” he replied, the words carrying a note of dry humor.

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the table. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

His silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy. You knew he wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason, but you also knew he wouldn’t say more than he wanted to. And you weren’t going to push.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For picking up,” he said simply. “For not asking.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the honesty in his tone. “Of course,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to explain anything, Hotch. You know that.”

For a fleeting moment, Hotch considered telling you. About Emily. About the team’s trust--or lack of it. But the words felt too heavy…too complicated to put into the space between you. He didn’t want to drag you into the mess, especially not when you had your own mission to worry about.

And yet, knowing you were there, steady and unwavering, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the faint hum of the secure line filling the silence. Despite the distance between you, the connection felt tangible--grounding.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said finally, although his voice sounded reluctant.

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you didn’t want the call to end. “But Hotch...don’t wait so long to call next time, okay?”

There was a pause, then a quiet, almost imperceptible, “Okay.”

And then the line disconnected, leaving you standing there with the headset in hand and a heaviness in your chest you hadn’t felt in weeks.

Across the ocean, Hotch set the phone down, his hand lingering on the receiver. For the first time in days, the storm inside him felt a little less suffocating. And though he couldn’t explain why, he knew that calling you had been the right choice.

….

Throughout the remainder of your mission in Pakistan, Hotch’s calls came sporadically, never announced, and always brief. Each time the secure line connected, his voice carried a steadiness that seemed to ease the tension that surrounded you. The conversations were simple--updates on the mission, quiet exchanges about the weather, or mutual remarks about the relentless grind of your respective work.

Yet, beneath the surface, those calls meant more.

They weren’t about the words exchanged but the connection that had grown between you. Somehow, through the static of secure lines and the distance of continents, you felt you knew him intimately.

Not in the way of shared stories or confessions, but in the quiet understanding of someone who had seen the same kind of pain.

Hotch never spoke about what weighed on him, and you never pressed. He didn’t need to. The heaviness in his tone, the pauses that lingered too long--they told you everything you needed to know. And you, in turn, found comfort in the silence he offered, in the unspoken acknowledgment of your own burdens.

It was a strange closeness, one that felt both fragile and unbreakable. You knew so much about each other, and yet nothing at all. He never asked about what had driven you to this mission, and you never asked about the strain you could hear in his voice. Yet, you understood each other in a way that words couldn’t capture.

In those stolen moments on the phone, it didn’t matter that the world outside was relentless. It didn’t matter that neither of you could put your pain into words. What mattered was that, for a few fleeting minutes, you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

It was those moments that patched up the pain in your chest, almost making you forget about the heartbreak you left at home. The failed relationships, the loneliness…you wondered how it would continue on--or if it would continue on once you were back home. You hoped.

…..

The bullpen at the BAU was its usual hive of activity, with agents moving between desks, typing up reports, and chatting quietly between tasks. But today, there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the team--one that centered on Hotch.

Seated at her desk, Garcia spun her chair toward Morgan, a playful smirk on her lips. “Alright, Derek, spill. What’s with the boss man and those secretive phone calls he’s been making?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I know anything, Baby Girl?”

Garcia raised a skeptical brow, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch’s office. “Because every time he steps in there and picks up that phone, he looks...different. Like, not his usual stressed-out-because-the-world-is-burning look. It’s something else.”

JJ, passing by with a file, paused to join the conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she said thoughtfully. “I noticed it, too. He’s been...quieter lately. More introspective. Not that Hotch is ever exactly chatty, but it’s different.”

Rossi appeared from behind them, holding his ever-present coffee mug. “And you’re all assuming that a few phone calls mean he’s seeing someone?” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind it.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “The man deserves a little happiness. Maybe he finally found someone who gets him.”

Reid, seated nearby with his tablet, looked up. “It could be related to the fallout from the Doyle case. He might be reaching out to someone for professional advice or support.”

Garcia shook her head dramatically. “Oh, boy-wonder, that’s far too clinical. This is Hotch we’re talking about. If he’s calling someone regularly, it’s personal.”

JJ frowned slightly, leaning against her desk. “Whoever it is, I just hope they’re good for him. After everything with Haley, and now the strain with the team...he needs someone who can be there for him.”

Rossi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Hotch’s closed office door. “Maybe it’s not about what they say. Sometimes, it’s just about having someone who listens. God knows that man doesn’t let anyone in easily.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes drifting toward the office where Hotch was currently on a call. Inside, his expression was characteristically composed, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders and the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed something softer.

Morgan broke the silence first, smirking. “Well, whoever this mystery caller is, they’ve got our fearless leader smiling. I say we let him have this one.”

Garcia gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Smiling? You saw him smile? Oh, this is bigger than I thought.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances, and even Reid couldn’t suppress a small smile at Garcia’s theatrics. But beneath the playful banter, the team shared a collective hope--that whoever was on the other end of those calls was helping their stoic leader carry at least some of the weight on his shoulders.

….

Hotch sat in his office, the low hum of activity in the bullpen barely reaching his ears. His personal phone buzzed on the desk beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. He frowned, picking it up cautiously. It wasn’t often he got calls from unlisted numbers on this line.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, his tone brisk.

“Well, that’s formal. Do you always answer like you’re being interrogated?”

His breath caught, the familiar voice pulling a genuine, if fleeting, smile to his face. “Agent Y/L/N. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased. “Just because I’m not in Pakistan doesn’t mean I’ve vanished. I still exist, contrary to popular belief.”

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I heard you finished the mission. Back stateside?”

“For now,” you said, your tone carrying the same measured ease he remembered. “It’s just a pit stop, though. The CIA doesn’t let its covert operatives sit idle for too long.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” you admitted. “Like I’m not entirely here, you know? You get that, don’t you?”

He did. More than he cared to admit.

“I do,” he said simply, his voice low.

“And you?” you asked, your voice softening. “How’s the BAU treating you?”

He hesitated, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on his chest. The fallout from the Doyle case, Emily’s return, the team’s shaken trust--it all simmered just beneath the surface. But he wasn’t ready to unpack that. Not now.

“Still busy,” he said instead, his voice even. “But you know how it is. Work doesn’t stop.”

“I do,” you replied, a knowing edge to your tone. “Sounds like you’re carrying more than just case files, though.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

“You always say that,” you said, a note of fond exasperation in your voice. “I’m starting to think it’s your catchphrase.”

“I don’t have catchphrases,” he replied, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles.

“Sure you don’t,” you shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you don’t ever crack a smile.”

“That’s a rare occurrence,” he said, his tone lighter.

“Well, I must be one of the lucky few then because I swear I’ve seen it.”

The warmth in your voice caught him off guard, but he didn’t mind it. Not one bit. “You’re in a unique position.”

“Unique, huh?” you teased. “You make it sound so exclusive.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Not many people see past the job.”

Your tone matched his now, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere. “That’s because the job is easier to focus on. It’s harder to look past it.”

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re not wrong.”

The call buzzed with a quiet warmth neither of you acknowledged outright, but both felt. Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a breath. He stared at the phone in his hand, debating whether to say what had been sitting in the back of his mind.

"So, this call," he said, his voice measured but holding a thread of something lighter. "Official business, or are you just checking up on me?"

"Can't it be both?" you asked, your teasing tone doing exactly what you intended--it made him relax, even if just a little.

He let out a soft laugh, surprising himself. "I suppose it can."

"I don’t know," you said, your voice playful. "Can it?"

He hesitated just a moment before admitting, “I actually thought about calling you too; I wanted to see how you were doing. And…I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The silence between you settled softly, comfortable, and filled with an understanding neither of you needed to articulate.

“Well, I’m doing okay,” you said finally, your tone calm. “Work’s the same. Chaos, classified details, long hours. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he replied, the weight of shared experience clear in his voice. “Too familiar.”

“And you?” you asked gently, your tone softening. “How are you, Hotch? Really?”

He hesitated again, the instinct to protect himself battling against the trust he felt when speaking to you. “I’m…I’m managing,” he said at last, quieter than before. “But it’s...been a lot.”

You didn’t push. You never did. That was one of the things he appreciated most.

“Well,” you said, the warmth returning to your voice, “if you ever feel like you need to step away from saving the world, give me a call. I’ve got plenty of experience in chaos management.”

He let out another rare, quiet laugh. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” you said lightly. “Don’t be a stranger, Hotch.”

He let the words settle, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what prompted him, but before the conversation could end, he spoke again.

“Actually,” he started, his voice betraying a hint of nerves that even he couldn’t suppress, “have you ever thought about meeting up?” The question lingered, and he immediately wondered if he had overstepped. “I mean, if your schedule allows it,” he added, his tone faltering slightly. “I know how demanding your work is.”

You paused, clearly caught off guard. “Meeting up?” you repeated, a smile audible in your tone. “You mean in person?”

“Yes,” he said quickly before he could second-guess himself. “I just thought…you’ve been a consistent voice through everything, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it without giving too much away. “It would be nice to catch up.”

“I think that sounds...great,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “Though I should warn you, Hotchner, I’m still terrible at small talk.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Well,” you teased, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Flattered,” he said, surprising himself again with the sincerity in his tone.

The brief pause that followed carried an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding of the connection that had been building between you since the mission in Pakistan. Neither of you said it outright, but it was there, tangible in the way you lingered on the call longer than necessary.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “But don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steadier now.

When the call ended, Hotch sat back, his thoughts circling the conversation. He realized that while he still didn’t know the full scope of your personal life or if there was someone waiting for you back home, he felt compelled to try--to find out, to see where this connection might lead. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself the thought of something beyond the weight he carried every day.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016 @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

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cera-writes · 7 months ago

Note

Hi! So I recently got into X Men again after watching Deadpool & Wolverine and by god do I love Gambit! I found your blog and your stuff for him is so good! I do have a request for you if you don’t mind. Could I please get a spicy first time with Gambit and fem!reader? It’s not her first time with a guy but maybe there’s been some tension building up and he wants to show her what a real man can do if you know what I mean lmao. I’ll leave it pretty open ended, I trust you’ll make something awesome! ❤️

A/N: Saaaaame! My obsession with this man is unwavering 🫦 Pairing: Remy LeBeau "Gambit" x F!Reader Tags: sex in the water, pining, fluff, shy!reader, pnv sex Summary: Reader decides to take a swim in the lake by the mansion. Having never had much luck with guys in the sexual department, Remy decides to show the reader how good it can really be and joins her in the water.

A Moonlit Dip

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tranquil waters of the lake that nestled quietly at the edge of the X-Mansion grounds. You had slipped away from the main building, seeking a moment of solitude and perhaps a bit of refreshment in the cool water. The air was thick with the scent of pine and wildflowers, a welcome respite from the ever-present tension of mutant politics and training sessions.

As you waded into the lake, the water felt like silk against your skin, soothing the day's stresses. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was the only sound, save for the distant chirping of crickets preparing for nightfall. You dove under, letting the cool embrace wash over you, feeling more alive than you had all day.

Emerging from the water, you wiped the droplets from your eyes, only to find Remy LeBeau, aka Gambit, leaning casually against a nearby tree, his eyes twinkling with amusement. His usual smirk played at the corners of his lips, and he pushed off the tree, sauntering towards you. You let out an inhuman shriek, startled at seeing his face looking directly at yours. "Jesus, Gambit..." you huffed.

"Bonsoir, chérie," he drawled as he fought back the urge to laugh, his Cajun accent thickening the syllables. "Looks like I ain't the only one who knows how to find a little peace 'round here."

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, not expecting company, especially not him. "Just needed a break," you admitted, treading water to keep yourself afloat, suddenly aware of how exposed you must look in the fading light.

Remy chuckled, removing his trench coat and tossing it aside. "Well, since you're already in d'ere, mind if Gambit join you?"

Before you could respond, he was peeling off his shirt, revealing a muscular chest that hinted at countless hours spent training and staying fit. After that came the rest of everything below the belt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped into the water, his eyes never leaving yours. The water seemed to part around him, as if welcoming its master back home.

"Ain't no gators in dis lake, mon cher," he teased, swimming closer. "But Remy reckon ya might have somethin' to worry 'bout anyway."

His proximity made the water feel suddenly warmer, the space between you charged with an electric tension that had been building for weeks. You remembered the lackluster dates, the guys who failed to ignite even a spark, and here was Remy, making your heart race with just a look. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't rubbed one out to just the sound of his accent alone as it filled your thoughts when you were by yourself.

"What would that be?" you managed to ask, your voice sounding faraway even to your own ears.

He closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist beneath the water. "Me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "Remy seen you wit' them, chérie. Seen how d'ey couldn't hold a candle to what we could be."

His confession hung in the air, heavy and real. You turned to face him, your hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath the smooth skin. "And what is that?" you challenged, though your voice trembled slightly.

Remy's smile was soft, almost vulnerable. "Something real, somethin' hot enough to burn away all those other cold nights." He leaned in, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let Gambit show you, belle. Lemme show you what a real man can do."

The world around you faded into insignificance as his lips met yours, soft at first, then deepening with a passion that took your breath away. His hands roamed your body, exploring, claiming, igniting fires wherever they touched. You responded in kind, your shyness melting away under his confident touch, giving in to the desire that had simmered between you both for so long.

In the water, limbs intertwined, breaths mingled, and the night seemed to hold its breath, watching the two of you explore each other with a hunger that was both new and ancient. Remy broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck, his hands guiding you deeper into the water, where the privacy was absolute.

"Tell Gambit whatchu want, chérie," he murmured, his voice husky with need.

You gasped as his fingers found a sensitive spot, your body arching toward his touch. "Show me," you begged, your voice breaking with emotion. "Show me everything, Remy."

With the moon as your only witness, you finally surrendered yourself to him.

With a low growl, Remy obeyed, his actions deliberate, every movement calculated to send you spiraling into pleasure. The water became an extension of his body, caressing you in ways you never imagined possible. You clung hard to him, nails digging into his skin as your world narrowed down to the sensations he elicited, the heat building within you like a dam about to break. You hissed in pleasure when he thrust even harder inside of you, feeling every inch of his hard dick throbbing inside your walls.

"Dass'it, belle," he encouraged, his voice rough with exertion. "Let go for Remy. Lemme see you fly."

And then, with a final, exquisite thrust, you did, soaring through the clouds of ecstasy, your cries mingling with his groans of satisfaction. The world came crashing back, the stars above seeming brighter, the water warmer, and Remy, more breathtaking than ever before.

He held you close, his forehead resting against yours, both of you catching your breath. "Was dat good, chérie?" he asked, his tone raw with emotion.

You nodded, unable to speak, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of sensations he had unleashed.

Remy kissed your forehead, his arms tightening around you. "We should get outta de water, cher. Night's chill settin' in."

You reluctantly had to agree.

His hand found yours as he led you out of the water, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth that had enveloped you moments before. The moon cast a silvery glow over the lake, making the droplets on your skin shimmer like diamonds. You shivered slightly, not from cold, but from the lingering thrill of what had just transpired between you. You'd managed to find your clothes in the dark, quickly dressing as Gambit did the same.

"Here, chere," Remy murmured, draping his coat around your shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body, and it smelled faintly of his cologne—a mix of spice and something uniquely him. "You catch a chill, Gambit'll never forgive hisself."

You smiled up at him, feeling the weight of his concern, and more, the depth of his affection. "Thank you," you whispered, pulling the coat tighter.

He nodded, his eyes soft as they met yours. "Let's walk, yeah? Getchu warmed up proper."

Hand in hand, you strolled along the lakeside, the silence between you comfortable, filled with unspoken words. The crickets had resumed their song, and somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill, its call echoing through the trees.

"Been wantin' to do dat for so long," Remy confessed suddenly, breaking the quiet. "Ever since dat night at the bonfire when you laughed at my terrible joke and didn't even care dat everyone else thought it was lame."

You chuckled, remembering the event he spoke of. "It wasn't that bad," you defended, though you knew he was teasing.

"Maybe not," he agreed, "but it was enough to make Remy think maybe, jus' maybe, you were different. That'chu saw me, not jus' Gambit the playboy, but Remy."

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice touching a place deep inside you. "I do see you," you admitted, pausing to face him under the moonlight. "All of you. The good, the bad, the Cajun charm... which I love, by the way." You'd confessed.

Remy laughed softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And here Gambit thought he was bein' subtle," he joked, though his eyes remained serious. "You deserve someone who's upfront, someone who can give you all de fire ya need, chérie."

You leaned into his touch, the vulnerability between you both palpable. "And you think that's you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Gambit know it is," he replied without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. "I wanna be de one to stand by your side, through thick and thin. To show you every day whatchu mean to me."

Tears pricked at your eyes, moved by his declaration. "Remy..." you breathed, searching for the right words.

He shook his head, placing a finger gently against your lips. "No need to say anything now. Jus' think about it, yeah? Let it sink in."

You nodded, understanding his request. This was a moment to savor, to reflect upon, not to rush through with hasty words.

They continued walking, the conversation lightening as Remy regaled you with tales of his youth in New Orleans, the mischief he and his friends had gotten into, and the lessons he had learned along the way. You listened intently, enchanted by his stories, by the man himself. You didn't think it was possible to fall for him even more but he had that charm all the same.

As the path wound closer to the mansion, Remy slowed his pace, his expression turning thoughtful. "Y'know, dere's somethin' I've always wanted to show you," he said, his tone mysterious.

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him. "What's that?"

He grinned, the familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. "A secret spot, up in de hills. It's where I go when I need to clear my head, or jus' feel...free."

Your interest was piqued. "Sounds magical," you mused, imagining the possibilities.

"It is," he confirmed, his hand squeezing yours. "Maybe one day soon, Gambit'll take you de're. Show you de view, letchu feel de wind in your hair."

Excitement bubbled within you at the prospect of sharing such a personal place with him. "I'd like that a lot," you admitted, smiling.

As they reached the edge of the woods, the lights of the mansion peeking through the trees, Remy stopped once more, turning to face you fully. "Tonight was...incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for lettin' me in, chérie."

You shook your head, unwilling to accept gratitude for something so mutual, so transformative. "There's nothing to thank me for," you insisted. "It was...perfect."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "Perfect, huh? Well, maybe next time we can aim for legendary d'en," he teased, his eyes twinkling.

Laughing, you nudged him playfully. "Oh, is that so? And what would make it legendary, pray tell?"

Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "How 'bout we find out together?" he whispered, his voice low and inviting.

Your pulse quickened at his suggestion, the promise of what could be hanging in the air between you. "I think I'd like that," you admitted, your voice catching ever so slightly.

With one last, lingering look, Remy turned towards the mansion, tugging you gently along. "C'mon, chere. Let's getchu inside before you turn into an ice sculpture. Gambit'll cook ya up somethin' to warm your soul."

You laughed, the sound carrying on the breeze as you followed him, your steps lighter than they had been in ages. As you walked, wrapped in his coat and his affections, you couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, this was the beginning of something truly extraordinary, like the man himself.

#xmen #x men 97 #remy lebeau #cera writes #gambit #gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #f!reader

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bettystonewell · 1 month ago

Text

What Happened Last Night? - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After burning the Book of the Damned and escaping the Styne’s, you all have a night of harmless celebrations back at the bunker. At least, it was harmless until Charlie suggested a game of Never Have I Ever, and the rest of your night became a blur. Friends to Lovers 18+ only

Word Count: 3,300

Tags/Warnings: Language, Pining, Dubious Consent (implied drunk sex), SMUT in part two—————————————————————Part 2 || Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

in vino, veritas

in wine, there is truth

Five bodies sat around the mess room table that night, drinking their troubles away and eating their fill.

You, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Cas at the end, sitting on a wooden chair he’d brought in from the library to make more space for those of you who did eat.

"This won't work," you said to the other four, though it was technically directed at Charlie. Your tone was as condescending as you could make it under the influence of the alcohol you’d already consumed.

Three beers and two sneaky sips of Charlie’s Harvey Wallbanger you’d taken while she wasn’t looking.

It was one less ounce of bounce in her step for your at-the-time more than tipsy gal pal and well deserved. Especially now she’d revealed her true intentions on why she’d encouraged you to partake in drinking in the first place.

In her overly enthusiastic state, she’d suggested a game to get “The Party Started.” A phrase she’d attempted to sing in vain as only you seemed to understand its reference.

Though Sam might have had a clue. His mouth had turned up around the lip of his bottle he’d conveniently sipped during the rendition of the Black Eyed Pea's early noughties banger.

Dean was one hundred per cent clueless, of course. Nothing past the eighties was decent to him. Nothing except that one Taylor Swift song you’d caught him listening to when he thought no one was watching.

He had sulked then and had been sulking on and off again since last night. Brooding over the fact he’d lost his one chance to remove the mark. Unbeknownst that Sam had not burnt the Book of the Damned like he, Charlie and Cas thought, but in a better mood thanks to the booze and pizza he’d brought home.

You knew better.

Both about his demeanour and what had really happened with the ancient text.

You’d seen Sam swap it with a replacement and you’d promised him you’d keep your mouth shut. Something you were hating your past self for.

Past you was a fucking idiot.

A fucking idiot who was about to get drunk from a game of Never Have I Ever like Charlie had suggested, and at risk of spilling more than one can of beans if you didn’t think of something fast to stop it.

Charlie, the conniving little… She knew way too much about you after the last time you’d had a few with her and the glint in her eyes that you’d seen when she suggested the damn game was enough for you to know that what she was planning was dangerous.

A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. Or something like that.

And she was almost there.

“What do you mean, it won’t work?” she said with far too loud a pitch that made even Cas uncomfortable.

Well, more uncomfortable than normal.

“Umm. The angel, for starters.” You directed your gaze at Cas, realising too late that you were going to give him a complex. “I think most of our everyday human experiences are going to be a never for him. And whatever he did in heaven will be the same for us. It’s unbalanced.”

“You’re thinking too much. He’ll get drunk. We’ll get drunk. That’s the point of the game,” Charlie said.

But her grin left her when a gruff, “I won’t,” interjected itself into the conversation.

Hah. Won’t. It was as if you’d sucked the happiness out of Charlie and taken it all for yourself to then rub it back in her face. “See. Cas doesn’t want to play. And Sam and Dean clearly don’t want to play either.” They'd said nothing against the suggestion and nothing against you now.

“Actually, you don’t have enough liquor here to get me drunk,” Cas added.

Don’t have enough… “Seriously?” You looked at him again and he nodded. An apologetic look on his face.

Which brought a ‘challenge accepted’ one into Charlie’s.

Looking around the room for support from the guys, you noticed Sam hiding a silent chuckle behind the bottle in his hand.

While Dean, who had been quiet since Charlie had burst out in song, locked eyes with yours. “Well, if there aren’t any more arguments from you, sweetheart, let’s play.”

And you thought Cas’ claim that there wasn’t enough booze for him was a surprise.

Fuck. Your head was pounding.

Your mouth was drier than a desert with a chalky sensation in your throat and lips that felt like they had cracked.

Yup. Cracked alright. They stung as you splayed your tongue over them, attempting to nourish the skin with what little wetness you had left in your mouth. A fat lot of good that did, though.

They weren’t the only part of your body feeling uncomfortable. Pins and needles from where you’d slept funny on your arm tingled from your funny bone to your wrist.

‘Ow. Fuck.’ Well, that hurt.

You were hung without a doubt, and just all over feeling seedy.

At least you’d slept some of the alcohol off and were no longer drunk. You thought.

The strands of hair that had made their way into your mouth and the saliva you strung along with it as you pulled it out would say otherwise. Urgh. Gross.

Had you been drooling? No wonder your throat was dry.

You groaned and forced your eyes open. Yes, you had. There was a wet patch on the white pillowcase below you.

Odd. You didn’t own white sheets.

You’d decorated your room in the bunker with as much colour as you could. What with the hunting life full of black, brown, denim and blood, you didn’t need any of that spreading into your personal space.

Of course, white was colour(ish), but again, you didn’t own white sheets, and your room didn’t have a solid wall where you were facing. Curiouser and curiouser. Your door was supposed to be right there.

You were at the correct end of the bed for it. A headboard behind you and a pillow underneath you, meaning you were lying on the right side. Yet all you saw was more bricks, a tall boy in some kind of brown and clothes that weren’t yours scattered on the surrounding floor.

Amongst them, a pair of jeans - okay, they might be yours. But the flannel? One plaid with various browns and greens. The very same Dean had been wearing last night?

Fuck.

Dean’s clothes. Dean’s room.

This was Dean’s room?

This was Dean’s room.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

What were you doing here? The last thing you remember was… Fuck.

Those lips. Dean’s lips, plump and whiskey-tainted, had peppered kisses on you in more than one place. Over your mouth, your cheek and your neck. Lower...

You’d learnt the spot at the base of your ear above your lower jaw was quite sensitive. Dean had learnt that, too. He’d also learnt a few other things if your tainted memory served you correctly, and you, the same about him.

The way his muscles contracted around his chest and back. Every little ridge, taut and firm, continued even down his arm and into his hands. Those talented fingers had a way of placing pressure in just the right places to make you blush. They’d found their way under your shirt and bra and…

Oh… Oh…

Had you slept with him and not remembered the main event? Was that possible with Dean? Your friend. The guy you’d wanted to be more than for the longest of time.

You've fallen for him the day you’d met. With that charming smile and those dazzling green eyes.

And that was before you’d gotten to know him.

Now you knew the man behind the shit-eating grin. The playful, sometimes scary nerd (who refused to admit it) was loyal to those he cared about. A self-righteous martyr, who could be a bit of a dick sometimes and followed it too when the time was appropriate.

Not that he’d done it so much lately.

Except, maybe now.

You were screwed and without asking him, there weren’t too many ways to check if indeed you had been by him.

You turned your head slowly to find an empty bed next to you.

Thank fuck. There was plenty of time to ask, but his bed was not the place.

You stretched your legs out, noting they felt normal. Stiff if anything, but not in a way you’d expect if you’d partaken in good sex.

Of course, that meant nothing. Maybe the rumours you’d heard about Dean were untrue?

Yeah right.

You’d seen the satisfied faces from all of his past hook-ups as they fled his motel room the next morning. Possibly one in every state. He had brought none of them to the bunker though, meaning you were the first to sleep in his room. In his bed.

Go you... That was something to be proud of, not.

You’d hightailed it out of his room after all that. Slinking off down the hall to your own to get changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing the night before. You hadn’t been wearing them when you’d woken up, of course. Oh, no. You’d been wearing one of his henleys, braless underneath, and your underwear surprisingly still on.

While you’d think that would be a comfort for you, you knew that meant nothing. Though everything felt normal down there, so maybe it did.

You weren’t sticky when you had a shower, but you noticed the love bites above your breasts when you looked in the bathroom mirror after it. There were bruises on your hips too. Ones shaped like fingerprints that fingers had pressed into you on either side.

Hmm.

There was only one way to find out what had happened and once you’d primed and prepped yourself, wearing clothes that covered you from your neck to your toes, you made your way to the same room where everything had gone down the night before.

Stupid Charlie and her stupid fucking game.

“Hey, Charlie,” you greeted when she saw you enter. Her eyebrows raised, along with her grin. “Where’s everyone else?”

In other words - Where’s Dean?

Only Charlie sat at the table. The rest of the room was clear. There were no more pizza boxes, no more alcohol bottles and no one in the kitchenette. Not even someone’s head in the fridge.

Just Charlie, with the smell of bacon and freshly ground coffee lingering in the air around her.

Coffee. You needed some of that.

“Sam’s got his head in the books again. Can you believe he was up before eight?”

Actually, you could and you hummed in response as you took your fresh cup of steaming goodness up to your lips to sip.

“I think Cas has left the building. We may have gotten him drunker than we thought.” She smirked. “And I figured you knew where Dean was.”

Your mouth spluttered over the rim of your cup. Coffee now dripped down your shirt and a few of the drops had landed on the floor.

You flicked your eyes to your friend as you placed the cup on the table opposite her. Towels. You needed towels.

“Don’t give me that look. I saw you two after I left. And I checked on you this morning when I first got up. You weren’t in your room,” she said.

There was a knowing look on her face as you made your way between the pantry and back again that you ignored. Stooping down low to wipe the spill you’d made on the tiled floor below, only joining her once you’d discarded the paper towel in the bin along with your dignity.

Your hands went straight back to your cup, sipping on the rim and avoiding Charlie’s prying eyes.

“Come on. Let me live vicariously. What happened between you two?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

“You don’t know? I set this all up for you and him and you don’t know?”

“Ssshhh.” Your shoulders slouched, and you reached across the table to grab her arm. “I don’t remember, okay? I woke up in his bed but…”

“Did you two?” She made a crude gesture with her hands.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Your eyes were open wide as you enunciated every syllable to get your point across.

“How do you not know?” Charlie blinked a couple of times.

Drawing in a long breath, your mouth agape and ready to sigh it all out, you looked back at your friend and trembled your head in a quick shake. “I remember fooling around a bit but I don’t remember much more than that.”

“So you just woke up in his bed and don’t know how you got there?” she asked.

“I mean, I know how I got in his room, I remember that much, I think, but I don’t remember lying down or, you know.” The look you gave her was enough. You didn’t need to elaborate and even if you had wanted to, a heavy thud of boots echoed through the corridor outside.

Sure, it was possibly Sam, but that distinct gap between steps could only have been made by one bow-legged Winchester. And when Charlie’s face lit up opposite you and you heard the sound abruptly stop from somewhere near the door, you knew it to be true.

“Morning Dean,” she said. The chirpiness in her voice made you want to slap her silly but as you only had access to the hand that still held yours in the moment, you dug your fingernails into the skin below them instead. “Ow. You want some breakfast? There’s bacon still in the pan.”

Dean grunted and you felt eyes boring into the back of your head.

You refused to look behind you to where you knew he was pouring his own coffee by the sounds of it and released Charlie’s hand to pick up your cup. You took slow sips, keeping both your mouth and the rest of your body occupied while your elbows rested on the table, defending yourself from Charlie and her quips.

“How did you sleep?” she asked this time. Her eyes flicked between you both.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You got any more questions, or are you gonna leave us in peace to sort our own shit out?”

Fuck.

You looked over at Charlie with a pleading look that said ‘Please don’t go.’ My how things had changed. But she grinned back at you and wagged her eyes, before standing and leaving the room in haste. Damn traitor.

As her footsteps trailed off down the hall, the room grew uncomfortably silent. Making your sips the loudest thing to have ever existed in the world.

Your coffee was more bitter than it had been and you needed sugar pronto if you ever wanted to finish it.

You brought your cup down and placed it on the table before you to let your fingers fidget over the thin porcelain. Paying attention to each sharp angle between the curves and painted decorations. More so than was ever necessary.

Your eyes fixated on it, even as Dean took Charlie’s place across from you, watching you with caution. “So,” he cleared his throat. “How’d you sleep?”

Seriously? Taking Charlie’s line was how he wanted to start this. Well alrighty then. “Um. Fine, I guess. You?” You braved a glance at him, noting he was more serious in his disposition than usual.

“Like a log,” he said before silence filled the room again.

Right. You weren’t sure what you should say next. There was that big question on your mind, but you wanted, no, needed to approach it carefully. You didn’t want him to know you didn’t remember what if anything had happened between you.

Not for his ego, but for yours.

You took another glance at him and saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheek, making it stick out under the five o’clock shadow he was yet to get rid of. He always looked his best like that.

“I uh, I was surprised you weren’t there when I came back to my room just now.”

Wait. He was? “You were?”

“Yeah.” There was a defensive twang in his tone. It was subtle, but it was there. “I only went to take a shower and then I found you’d bolted… I thought…” He shook his head.

He thought. Thought what?

You looked him up and down. It wasn’t just his tone that was unusual. The way he held his shoulders and the way he gripped his coffee cup before him was odd. In anyone else, you’d say they were lacking in confidence, but Dean wasn’t like this.

The last time you’d seen him in such a way was after he’d killed Randy and the thugs in Pontiac and had come home dishevelled and broken over what he’d done.

“What did you think?” you asked, stretching your arm out to brush his hand across the table. Hoping that by doing so it might relieve whatever tension he was feeling.

There was a warmth there, that spread under your fingertips as your skin touched his and brought flashbacks to your mind of you touching other places on his body.

You’d seen him with his shirt off last night. Been up close and personal with his tattoo and the scars that adorned his chest. You’d felt the dip in his spine and the pressure of his waistband pressing into your thumbs when you’d hooked them under the denim that sat around his waist.

Had you gotten into those jeans last night?

“Last night,” he said, watching your hand with interest. “After what we talked about.”

What we talked about? You’d stayed up well into the night with him. Long after Sam and Charlie had gone to bed and Cas had disappeared to do whatever Cas does. But just like your memories of what took place in his room were drawing blank, so too were whatever words you’d exchanged with him.

All you could see were the grins and smirks he threw your way, and you nodded your head to stall. It didn’t do you any favours.

He was looking at you with a scrutinising gaze and just as your cheeks had burned when he found that spot under your ear, they did the exact same to you now and gave everything away. “You. You don’t remember? Do you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I ah. I’m drawing blanks. Some of it, I remember, but I couldn’t tell you what we talked about after the others left. And…” You hesitated.

“What?” His eyes locked onto yours and while they made you nervous, you couldn’t pull away.

“Dean. Did we…”

He seemed almost disappointed. But rather than wait for you to finish your question, or answer it even though it was as obvious as Charlie had been, he stood up, scraping the chair along the floor as he did so to storm off.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

You had drunk a lot and been drunk because of it. You’d spent time with Dean alone after the others had gone to bed and had talked with him about something.

Something that led you to his room and into his bed.

There’d been action. Kisses and touches. A bit of groping and clothes being removed. Small flashes of that continued to form in your mind. But while marks had been left on your skin and you’d stayed the night in his bed, you couldn’t remember the physical act of him being inside of you. Or you giving him a happy ending either for that matter.

And now, he was disappointed.

Could it be that he felt the same way you did?

Part 2 || Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist ————————————————————Thank you for reading!

Up next in part 2:

Rather than answering, Dean walked around to the nightstand on the back wall next to his bed and picked up something small enough to fit in his hand. It crinkled under his touch, sounding more like the soft plastic of a candy bar than anything else.

Your suspicions told you otherwise though, and when he came back around and took your hand to place the object in your palm, you didn’t need to look at it to recognise the feel and shape of a condom still inside its wrapper.

There was the definite answer to your question about protection.—————————————————————

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x you #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #reader insert #x reader #fem reader #dean winchester fic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester smut #one shots

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aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

aventurine and whatever characters you wanna add with a wife reader and child

aventurine (and other characters) pretend to be santa and deliver presents for their kid on christmas eve :3

their kid will catch them in the act and ask if its really santa (they totally are, dont crush a kid's dreams on santa (i learned the hard way he wasnt real 😔))

-:3 anon

Special Gift from Santa!

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Family Moments, Fatherhood, Winter Special, Heartwarming, Romance.

A/N: I can't believe people still think Santa is real 💀... Like damn, i already knew santa wasn't real as a child and was rather a made up character/mascot but still its funny. Thank God, I didn't go through that just to get my heart broken lol 😪 sorry for your loss tho🫂

Christmas Eve aboard your cozy little ship felt magical. The soft hum of the engines blended with the quiet crackle of a small holographic fireplace. Strings of colorful lights flickered, casting warmth across the room. Your child had insisted on hanging their handmade decorations all over the cabin. Their innocent excitement over Santa Claus’s impending arrival filled your heart with joy—and Boothill’s too, though he’d never admit it outright.

“I still think this whole ‘Santa’ thing is ridiculous,” Boothill grumbled under his breath, adjusting the red hat atop his white hair. He was dressed in a mismatched Santa suit you’d cobbled together from spare fabric: a red jacket (barely hiding his mechanical torso), a black belt, and fuzzy white cuffs. “They’re too smart for this kinda stuff.”

You smirked, watching as he held a small sack of presents. “Oh, come on, Boot. They believe in Santa. Just this once, let them have the magic.”

He huffed, shark-like teeth flashing in a reluctant grin. “Fine. But if I get caught, it’s on you.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’ll do great.”

The ship was quiet except for the sound of Boothill’s spurs softly jingling as he tiptoed into their room. The sack slung over his shoulder shifted slightly as he crouched down by the small Christmas tree you’d set up at the foot of their bed. The dim glow of the tree lights reflected in his black, aim-marked eyes.

He carefully began pulling out the gifts you’d wrapped together: a handmade doll, a small toolkit, and a bundle of colorful space-themed storybooks. Boothill placed them beneath the tree, his mechanical hand moving with a surprising gentleness.

But as he straightened, a small voice broke the silence.

“Santa?”

Boothill froze. Turning slowly, he saw them sitting up in bed, their wide, sleepy eyes sparkling with wonder. They clutched their blanket tightly, staring at him in awe.

For a moment, Boothill panicked internally. Do I tell them? No, I can’t crush their dreams. Play it cool, cowboy.

He straightened his hat, giving them a toothy grin. “Ho ho ho, kiddo,” he said, his gruff voice deepening into a surprisingly convincing Santa impression. “You caught me.”

Their eyes lit up. “It is you! I knew you’d come!” They scrambled out of bed and ran to him, throwing their arms around his legs.

Boothill blinked, momentarily stunned by the hug, then gently patted their head. “Y-Yeah, uh, Santa always keeps his promises.”

They looked up at him, their expression serious. “Are you really Santa? You look kinda… like my dad.”

Boothill crouched down, meeting their gaze. “I get that a lot,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your dad’s a real good guy, huh? Maybe that’s why I wanted to visit you special tonight. You’ve been real good this year.”

They beamed, their earlier suspicion forgotten. “Did you see my wish list?”

“Sure did,” Boothill said, reaching into the sack and pulling out one of the gifts. “This one’s from the top of the list, right?”

They gasped, their tiny hands trembling as they accepted the gift. “You’re the best, Santa!”

Once they had fallen asleep again, Boothill returned to the main cabin, his hat slightly askew and a soft smile lingering on his face.

“How’d it go?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Kid bought it,” Boothill said, his tone half-joking but tinged with pride. “Didn’t even flinch when I said I looked like their dad.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “I told you you’d make a great Santa.”

Boothill shook his head, glancing toward their room. “That little one of ours… they deserve the whole galaxy.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. “They’ve already got it, Boot. They’ve got you.”

And for the first time in years, on that quiet Christmas Eve, Boothill felt a warmth in his heart that even revenge couldn’t match.

Snowflakes drifted gently outside the window, their crystalline patterns catching the soft glow of the streetlights. Inside the cozy warmth of their home, the scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air. Aventurine, adorned in an elaborate Santa costume—complete with a fluffy red coat, a crooked white beard, a golden bell tied to his wrist, and a festive Santa mask that concealed his unmistakable features—was crouched beside the glittering Christmas tree. His eyes, barely visible through the mask’s cutouts, gleamed mischievously as he carefully arranged the gifts.

His wife, you, leaned against the doorway, stifling a laugh at the sight. "You look ridiculous," you whispered, your arms crossed playfully.

Aventurine looked up, feigning mock insult. "Ridiculous? My dear, I am a vision of holiday cheer and generosity. This costume cost more than the tree itself. It’s haute couture Santa."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this for our little one. But try not to wake them, alright? They’ll figure it out one day, and I’d rather it not be tonight."

Aventurine gave a dramatic bow. "Fear not, my darling. I am as silent as a card sliding into the slot of a roulette table. Luck favors me, after all."

You sighed fondly and retreated to the bedroom, leaving him to his antics.

As Aventurine carefully placed the final gift under the tree, a soft rustling sound made him freeze. Turning his head slowly, he saw a pair of wide, curious eyes peeking out from the staircase.

"Santa?" the small voice whispered.

Aventurine's heart nearly skipped a beat. His child—a miniature whirlwind of joy and mischief—was clutching their favorite stuffed animal, their little face glowing with wonder in the dim light.

Straightening his hat and beard, Aventurine gave the most convincing "Ho ho ho!" he could muster. "Indeed, it is I, Santa Claus! And who might you be, little one?"

The child’s face lit up as they descended the stairs cautiously. "I’m [Child’s Name]! You… you’re really real?"

Aventurine knelt down, adjusting the mask to keep his disguise intact. "Oh, of course I am! How else would these presents get here? Magic reindeer and all that, you know." He tapped the side of his mask conspiratorially.

They tilted their head, scrutinizing him. "But… you have Papa’s smile."

Aventurine inwardly cursed his expressive features but quickly recovered. "Ah, clever observation! You see, your papa is on my ‘Nice’ list every year. We share a bit of Christmas spirit—it’s why my smile looks so familiar."

The child beamed, satisfied with the explanation. "Did the reindeer really fly you here?"

"Absolutely," Aventurine replied, his tone solemn as he leaned in closer. "And let me tell you a secret—they love carrots and sugar cubes. So, if you leave them out next year, they’ll be extra fast."

The child’s awe was palpable. "I will! But… why are you still here? Don’t you have more presents to deliver?"

Aventurine smiled beneath the mask, feeling a warmth he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. "I do, but I had to make sure the most special house on my list got the perfect gifts." He gently booped their nose.

The child giggled and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Santa."

Aventurine's chest tightened at the pure innocence of the moment. He hugged them back, careful not to break the illusion.

When the child finally went back to bed, clutching their stuffed animal and wearing a smile bright enough to rival the stars, Aventurine stood and adjusted his costume. You returned quietly, your eyes soft as you took in the scene.

"That was... beautiful," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him.

Aventurine chuckled softly, pulling you close. "Sometimes, the greatest gamble isn’t in the game but in the act of keeping the magic alive."

You kissed his cheek through the mask, feeling the silly fabric against your lips. "Merry Christmas, my gambler."

"And to you, my darling. Now, let’s get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll have to deal with the chaos of unwrapping."

As the two of you retreated, Aventurine couldn’t help but glance back at the tree, feeling a rare sense of peace. For all his risks, for all his calculations, this moment—this joy—was worth more than any gamble he’d ever won.

I don't know if you guys ever saw that meme but it was something like “I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus” but it's actually the dad dressed up as santa and I kept thinking about it while writing this, maybe I'll write something with that prompt? 🤷‍♀️

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supernotnatural2005 · 3 months ago

Text

'Ride em' Cowgirl'

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY, swearing, fluff.

AN: Here it is, the requested part 2 of my 'Giddy up Cowboy' Drabble. I'm blown away by all of the love and support on my work lately and had to give you something tasteful in return for all your lovely appreciation. I hope you enjoy ☺️

Tagging: @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog and @rizlowwritessortof

Main Masterlist

The ride back to the motel feels like an eternity. The engine of the Impala hums beneath you, a comforting sound you’ve grown used to over the past few months of hunting with the Winchesters. But tonight, that familiar hum does little to calm the storm that’s building in the air between you and Dean.

Sam sits in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the electricity crackling in the space between you and his older brother. His head is turned slightly, eyes focused on his phone as he scrolls through something, probably researching the next hunt. He’s completely oblivious, lost in his world, but you and Dean? You're both caught up in something far more dangerous.

You shift in your seat, the leather of the Impala's interior squeaking slightly beneath you, but it’s nothing compared to the way your body is reacting to the proximity of Dean, to the memory of the words you said back at the bar. "I think I can ride him better." The double meaning of the comment, the tease that you’d laid on him, was still hanging heavily in the air.

You glance at him, his profile visible from the corner of your eye. His jaw is tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too hard, and you can’t help but notice the way his bicep flexes with the tension. The urge to reach over and touch him, to bridge that last bit of space between you, is almost overwhelming.

Sam’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he glances over his shoulder, a slight grin on his face. “You two are awfully quiet. You sure everything’s alright?”

Dean clears his throat, his voice low, a little too steady. “Yeah, we’re fine, Sammy. Just tired.”

Sam nods, not catching the edge in his brother’s voice, and goes back to whatever he’s reading on his phone. You, however, catch the way Dean’s eyes flicker to you—a brief glance, but enough to make your pulse quicken. You feel that familiar heat rise between you both, the kind that only the two of you understand.

Every mile feels like it stretches on forever. You catch Dean’s gaze again, and this time, his eyes linger a little longer, something raw and unspoken in them. You know he’s struggling to keep his composure, just as you are.

Finally, the motel comes into view. The neon lights of the sign flicker, the soft hum of the parking lot filling the quiet car. Sam lets out a loud yawn and stretches, oblivious to the way the tension between you and Dean has reached its breaking point.

“Man, I’m pretty beat.” Sam says, giving you both a tired smile as he climbs out of the car. You and Dean follow suit, both of you stepping out with a quiet but unmistakable urgency.

Dean’s hand brushes against yours as he walks you to your room—just a few doors before his and Sam’s, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. You both stand there for a moment, looking at your motel room door in front of you, the unspoken weight of everything you've both been avoiding for so long finally sinking in.

Sam walks on ahead, muttering something about needing to “hit the hay,” and you both watch as he disappears into the room before Dean turns to you, his voice low and controlled.

"You weren’t kidding earlier, huh?”

"No," you say, your voice just above a whisper, because you can’t take it anymore, and it’s enough to send the heat between you two spiralling. "I wasn’t.”

Dean doesn’t need any more encouragement. He moves first, closing the distance between you two with a single, decisive step. His lips crash against yours, hard and desperate—like he’s been holding back everything he’s been feeling for far too long.

His mouth is warm and insistent, and you open up to him instinctively, your hands finding their way to the open fabric of his flannel, pulling him even closer.

You moan into the kiss, clinging to him as if he were your last source of oxygen. Consuming what he was willing to give as long as he was willing to give it. Dean’s hands slide down to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave small fingerprint indents when your tongue slides past his lips. His responding groan is low, bordering on a growl, and he walks you back against your door, his hands unable to stay in one place for too long.

His touch, his scent, and his delectable mouth were quickly descending you into a state of ecstasy. You were already hooked and desperate for more.

“Inside.” You mumble against his lips, and he offers you a curt nod before he breaks the kiss, allowing you a moment to breathe as you turn to unlock your door. He’s already pressing himself against you from behind, his hands wandering from your hips to boldly cupping your breasts over your thin t-shirt, beneath your jacket.

It takes you until your third try before you finally stumble inside. Dean quick to kick the door shut with his foot as he ravishes your neck with wet kisses and thumbs at your pebbled nipples poking through your lace bra, risen from both his ministrations and the cool air.

You push back against him and gasp at the feel of his obvious arousal through his jeans. His reaction to you sent a thrill of excitement through you as well as a feeling of pride swelling in your chest.

"Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.” Dean pants into your neck as you roll your hips against him. He presses into you with each roll, making his eyes roll back and his hands move to find purchase on your hips again.

“I think I have some notion.” You quip with one last push back against him before turning in his arms. You offer him a sly smile and look up at him through your lashes as you trail and hand down his firm chest and over his toned stomach before cupping him through his jeans. His hips instinctively thrust into your palm, and you grant him some relief by adding pressure and rubbing your hand along his length.

His gaze is stormy as he looks down at you, watching you watch your own hand grope him in wonder. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Suddenly, he pulls your hand from him, the feeling both incredible yet frustratingly not enough, and you look up at him in question, but he’s quick to reclaim your lips again.

The urgency from before is back with a vengeance as you claw at each other’s clothes, peeling away layers upon layers between heated kisses, until finally, you’re left in nothing but your panties, and Dean in his boxers.

His gaze roams over you unapologetically, taking in every curve and scar; your heaving breasts on display with a hunger you’d never seen in another man's eyes before. But there was more behind his desire. There was a look of longing, of wanting this for so long and finally having it, simmering within those pools of green. And you understood. Because you felt the exact same.

As if in sync, you reached for one another again. Dean’s hands framed your face as he dipped down to kiss you again. This time softer, more tender, making you all but melt into his arms. He walked you backwards, never parting his lips from yours, until the backs of your thighs met the edge of the mattress.

You pulled away from him then and climbed up onto the bed, with him quickly following, crawling up and over you like a predator stalking his prey. Your head fell back onto the pillows as his firm body covered yours, his mouth quickly attaching itself to your neck, kissing, sucking, and nibbling at the tender flesh until you were bucking your hips up against him.

He smirks into your neck, loving the fact you were so reactive to him, even by the simplest of touches. He decides to give you some relief and trails his mouth down your body, stopping at your chest. He waited for you to look at him, his warm breath fanning over your perked nipple, and only when you finally meet his gaze does he wrap his lips around your pebbled nub.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, watching his eyes fall shut as he sucked and nibbled at your nipple. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and your hips ground for any kind of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. Your hand slid into his hair, pulling harshly at the soft spikes atop his head, making him groan, and the vibration sent tiny shocks of pleasure throughout your nerve endings.

He moves onto your other breast, the wetness of your abandoned nipple cooling against the air conditioning unit, softly buzzing in the background, the feeling only adding to the incredible pleasure his mouth was giving your other breast.

“Fuck, Dean.” You gasp, just as his left hand trailed down your side and sneakily slipped into your panties. Two of his thick digits were quick to find your clit and you shuddered from the contact. He begins to circle your bundle of nerves slowly, much like the motion of his tongue against your nipple.

You fist his hair again, moaning loudly as he dips an experimental finger into your soaked hole, gathering your wetness and resuming his attention back on your clit.

“You’re so wet, baby.” He grunts against your chest, frowning in concentration as he picks up his pace. “That all for me?” All you could do was nod and then cry out as his fingers rubbed you faster, sending jolts of pleasure down to the tips of your toes, which soon curled as your body began to tense.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You repeated it like a mantra, the coil in your belly wound tight and ready to spring.

“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my fingers.” He husks in your ear, and you look down your body, watching the muscles in his forearm dance with effort from the maddening pace of the hand buried deep in your underwear. The sight was your undoing, and your whole body stiffened. Mouth dropping open in a silent scream, the sound trapped in your throat as your body convulsed and shuddered against him.

Dean’s hand began to slow with your descent into bliss, coming to a complete stop once you deflated back onto the mattress, completely boneless.

“Holy shit.” You huffed with an incredulous chuckle because, holy shit. You’re not even sure you’d ever come so hard with your own hand. And if just his fingers could bring you so much pleasure, it left you wondering what else you were in store for. Although you didn’t have to wonder for much longer when Dean shifted beside you and you felt the straining press of his cock against your thigh.

You turned to him and cupped his cheek with your right hand, pulling him into a slow and sensuous, grateful kiss. He hummed happily against your lips as you rolled him onto his back. His arms coming up to wrap around you, to keep you close as you took his breath away.

With him distracted, you grasped his tented length, massaging him as best you could through the fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss and dropped his head back against the pillows, eyes shut tight as you relieved some of the pressure.

You smiled devilishly at him and rose to your knees beside him. He watched you in wonder as you peeled the last item of clothing from him, helping you by lifting his hips. Your eyes widened in both shock and amazement at the sight of him. Your mouth watered and pussy throbbed, desperate for a taste, for the feel of him inside you.

You gathered him in your hand, relishing in the warm weight of his impressive cock. Dean released a deep sigh at the feel of your delicate hand slowly, teasingly pumping him. He was as hard as granite, throbbing in your hand, and you marvelled at the way your simple movements had him panting, wanting and desperate beneath you.

Laying comfortably between his parted thighs, You ran your tongue along the length of him. The deep, responsive moan from him giving you the encouragement to do it again and again until he was slick with your saliva and fisting the sheets beneath him tight.

“Holy.. shit.” Dean gasped as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his silky head before sinking your mouth onto him. The action brought with it a salty tang and a variety of praises and profanities. Between your legs, a new wave of wetness coated your already ruined underwear as you worked him over in your mouth and with your hand.

Looking up at him, he was a sight to behold. His skin glistening, chest heaving, sinful lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut. He was beautiful in every scenario it seemed.

“Oh God.” Dean’s eyes snapped open then, his body tensing, and he quickly sat up, pulling you from him. You looked at him alarmed, wiping at the spit collected at the corners of your mouth.

“What? What’’s wrong?” You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he released a breathless chuckle.

“You were about to make me cum.” He told you honestly, and you blushed a little, but wondered why he’d stopped you?

“And?” You giggled softly, though squeaked, when he suddenly manhandled you into his lap. You had to bite back a groan at the feel of his hard length bumping against you through your panites.

“And? I was promised a ride.” His voice is low and sultry, but his face is filled with his usual boyish, giddy excitement. You giggled and shook your head, realising you’d somehow fallen for a complete dork.

You cup his scruffy cheeks in your palms and plant a warm kiss against his lips, the smiles on your faces quickly fading as your tongue swept against his, reigniting the ache between your legs and the need for more.

You reluctantly pull away and slide off of him, removing and kicking away your underwear before climbing back onto him. He welcomes you eagerly, claiming your mouth once again with a kiss filled with passion and ignition.

You slowly guide him onto his back and pull away breathless. His hands slide from your back to your hips as you sit up, grinning down at him. His green eyes look up at you, dark and entranced, roaming over every inch of you in amazement.

You bite down on your lip as you settle against him, the wet seam of your pussy covering his length, making you both groan at the contact. You roll your hips experimentally, your head falling back as you steadied yourself against his firm stomach, picking up your pace until you were slick and ready.

“Fuck sweetheart. You’re a dream.” Dean says breathlessly and with an honest gaze. You smirk down at him, slowing your roll, and he watches you.

“I think it’s time I make do on that promise.” You tell him. “Think I can last the full 90 minutes?” You tease, and Dean chuckles, rubbing lovingly at your thighs, hips, and up your sides.

“I have no doubts, baby.”

In one swift movement, you rise up on your knees and grasp his length, angling him just right before you sink down onto him. Both of your mouths drop open in respective pleasure. You’re slick enough to take him most of the way, only rocking gently a few times until he’s fully sheathed.

“Fuuck.” He moans, and it’s long and drawn out because Dean can’t quite fathom the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He’s been to heaven, hell, and everything in between, but this was something else entirely. The best pie he’d ever tasted, the feeling he got behind the wheel of baby—all things paling in comparison to this moment.

Once the initial stretch of him blurred from pain into pleasure, did you then rise up and slowly slide back down, gasping in almost disbelief at the incredible feel of him inside you. You repeated the movement again and again until you built up a steady rhythm, rocking, rolling, and grinding your hips to find the most intense spots of pleasure.

All the while Dean let you ride him, watching in awe as you did in fact “ride him better." However, to give you a challenge, he bucked his hips up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust. You held on tightly, eyes rolling back at the much harsher thrusts hitting you just right, but you weren’t about to let him win.

With one hand firmly planted on his chest, you leaned back, reaching your arm around to fondle his balls. Dean jolted in surprise but moaned deep and loud as you gently caressed them in your palm. You smiled in triumph as he relinquished his thrusts, and you sped up your movements, feeling his balls draw tight.

“Oh, fuck, oh shit.” His words were breathless and strained as his body tensed, brow furrowing, hands gripping tight onto your hips as he came. Hard. You felt his warm seed coat your walls along with a long, deep groan as you circled your hips, milking every last drop.

You grinned down at him as he collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard and weightless. You could feel him still twitching inside you, and you involuntary clenched at the sensation, making his head pop back up to look at you.

His eyes were wild, his chest flushed red, and wordlessly he slid a hand over to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit, making you gasp. Dean’s eyes closed at the feeling of you clenching around him but began circling your clit with the digit, watching on in admiration as you slowly rocked your hips into his hand, chasing your own sweet release.

Dean was a generous lover, but you’d given him a run for his money in that department tonight. It was only common curtesy he had you come again. Even if your pussy was all but strangling his sensitive cock, it felt incredible—a sensation he’d never felt before. He could feel himself hardening again at just the sight and feel of you, surprising you as much as himself.

“Oh God.” You cried out, your walls fluttering around him as you ground into his hand, his thumb flicking against your clit, harder and faster until you were shaking above him. Then he thrust his hips up, once, twice, three times, and you were falling apart. Your body tensed and twitched above him, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as the white hot pleasure of your orgasm rippled through you.

“Shit.” Your eyes popped open when you felt it. Warmth spread inside you for a second time as Dean cried out in painful pleasure. Holy shit was all that you could comprehend as he tensed beneath you.

Shocked silence filled the room as you both stared at one another, catching your breaths, until a chuckle of disbelief slipped from his lips, triggering your own laughter.

You fell onto his chest, letting his soft cock slip from you with a slight hiss from him. You soothed a hand a long his chest, planting a sweet kiss there before leaning up and coming face to face with him.

"So, was I…Better?” You wondered curiously, whilst absently playing with his mused, sweat slicked hair. Dean grinned in response and cupped your jaw tenderly.

"Oh, you so were." He replied before pulling your lips to his.

AN: Okay so this one was just pure smut! 😂 but let me know what you think? Was this a good tie up for these two 👀

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glossdebut · 2 months ago

Text

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 03

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: THE JEJU TRIP BEGINS!, JK is clueless and a little bit annoying, jimin and taehyung are meddlers, seokjin wishes he was fishing, yoongi is a bitch as per usual, aqua uses ANOTHER arctic monkeys song as a plot device, A BIG REVEAL OF SORTS!, idk a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, the exposition is expositioning (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 7.4k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone! happy belated taehyung day and happy new year! writing this chapter kicked my ass. it sat at 1k-ish words for almost the ENTIRE month until i miraculously busted out the final 6.4k in less than 48 hours. but it’s hereeeeee! a big thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading and mj @kkaetnipjeon for answering my many, many questions about jeju <3

P.S. the jeju house in this is modeled after an airbnb i found online (with a few alterations to fit my perception of yoongi’s taste) so if my description isn’t enough for you to picture it, here is the link to the house i modeled it after!

P.P.S. i finally got my taglist sorted out! if your username is missing at this point, it means i straight up don’t have it. comment and/or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!

CH. 03: WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Jeju is a big change of pace for you.

You spend your days in Seoul with little reason to step outside of city limits. It’s so big, offering anything and everything you could possibly need. When you do happen to travel, it’s always for work, and always to some other booming metropolis. It’s difficult to recall the last time you’d been surrounded by such lush greenery as opposed to the impenetrable walls of slate grey you’ve grown accustomed to.

It feels like a miracle that your manager, Seoyeon, was able to swing this for you, even if there are a few strings. You’re still technically working—you always are, whether it’s through the brand of clothes you’re seen wearing or the model of car you’re seen leaving the airport in. A walking advertisement. But still, she’s managed to finesse things so you don’t have any shoots lined up for the next few weeks.

You don’t think you’ve been to Jeju since your last trip with Seokjin, the summer after you graduated high school. A trip that Seokjin spent fishing and you spent sunning. And the two of you, funded by the money Seokjin had saved up during his second year of college, certainly weren’t staying in a place like this.

Yoongi’s house in Seogwipo is far from what you imagined.

It’s huge, but you knew to expect that, at least. Two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. More than enough space to accommodate a rock band and their instruments (and their egos), which is why it was purchased in the first place.

But given what you know about Yoongi, and the fact that the band only comes here when they need to write an album, you weren’t expecting it to be so… homey.

The walls are painted a soft sage green. Dark wooden furnishings, splashes of charcoal grey and cream. A screened-in patio on the first floor that leads to a gorgeous garden with a wooden (and from the looks of it, hand-built) free standing swing. A terrace on the second floor with a beautiful view of the surrounding beach village.

There are fucking houseplants all over the place, thriving in the natural light the many windows offer. It looks like somebody lives here, even though you’d bet your left tit that Yoongi doesn’t.

It doesn’t look to his taste, or at least what you’d imagine his taste to be. Dark and minimalistic, rather than dark and cozy. Cold, clinical. Yoongi’s apartment is probably as inviting as a hotel suite.

Maybe Yoongi owns it, but Namjoon maintains it. That’d make sense.

You think about asking, just to satisfy your own curiosity, but as everyone disperses to drop their bags, you decide it’s not worth it. Namjoon is preoccupied with his managerial duties, unloading equipment and instruments from the car, and nothing good seems to ever come out of talking to Yoongi anyway.

Jeongguk, ever the gentleman, wrenches your bags from your hands before you even get a chance to figure out which room you’ll be staying in. Hefting the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder, extra large rolling suitcases in each hand, he carries everything up the stairs with alarming ease, leaving you no choice but to follow. He has your bags, after all.

You follow him silently into a bedroom on the second floor. It’s only when he tosses all of the bags onto the bed that you realize, with shocking clarity, that you and Jeongguk are expected to share a room.

This room. Which only has one bed. Because happy couples sleep in the same bed.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, the sound of his voice effectively tearing your eyes away from the mattress-shaped elephant in the room.

You really need to get better at keeping control of your facial features, instead of looking like you’re going to be sick at every perceived complication.

“Is, um,” you start, pointing at the bed. “Are we…?”

Realization crosses over Jeongguk’s face as his gaze follows the direction of your finger.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffs, big boba eyes widening. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest with you.”

Well, that’s not very reassuring.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, even though you’re feeling very much the opposite.

Being on this trip is bad enough. You already feel like you’re intruding on something you’ll never really be a part of, despite all of Jeongguk’s insistence that you being in Jeju with him will do wonders for your story’s credibility. But the idea of sharing a bed with him is just… It’s too much. It’s too real.

Somewhere in a hospital back in Seoul, Seokjin is laughing at your expense. You can sense it.

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk says, waving his hand dismissively.

“Jeongguk,” you huff. You don’t want to be a bitch, but you can’t help but get frustrated—on behalf of yourself and his girlfriend, who you’re allegedly doing all of this bullshit for in the first place. He’s been here, has lived in this house for weeks on end as long as they’ve been writing albums here. He should’ve known this would be a problem.

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like it very much if she knew we’d be sharing a bed while we’re here.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, apparently oblivious to the irritation that’s starting to come off of you in waves. “I’m sure there’s a couch I can move in here or something.”

“Okay,” you say stiffly. You’re unconvinced, but if he wants to figure out how to move a couch in here unnoticed, that’s up to him.

“Seriously,” Jeongguk insists, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

“You go ahead,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m gonna unpack a little before I head down.”

Jeongguk shrugs, leaving the room without fighting you on it. Thank god, too. You need a few minutes to decompress before you willingly head back into the belly of the beast.

Shit, this was a bad idea. This was all a bad idea, and you just keep going along with it because you’re incapable of saying ‘no’ where Jeon Jeongguk is concerned.

Meeting the band after their last concert was one thing. A necessary evil, in order to sell all of this. Even hijacking their tour wrap dinner wasn’t that big of a deal—it certainly felt good to put Yoongi in his place, you have no problem admitting that.

But this? Sharing a house with the other members who all think you’re someone you’re not, just for some airport pictures? A few Instagram posts? It feels like you’re both taking things too far.

And then there’s Yoongi.

Yoongi, who hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since the plane took off from Incheon. You didn’t think so many questions could be answered with hums and grunts, but you’re almost impressed by how wrong he’s proven you. It’s all in the inflection, it seems.

He’s pissed. Whether it’s still about the dinner, or just the fact that you’re here at all, you don’t know. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to piss him off further, just on principle. But being in such close quarters like this…. All a pissed Yoongi is going to do is cause more problems for you.

You’re deliberating on whether or not proposing a truce would be worth it when you finally leave the bedroom, heading towards the stairs.

Everyone seems to be doing their own part in setting up for the trip. Namjoon and Jeongguk are outside clearing out what remains in the car, visible through the glass of the front door. Taehyung is pacing around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and recording his findings in the notes app of his phone. And…

Speak of the devil. Yoongi is helping Jimin set up his drum kit in the middle of the living room, right smack in front of your face as you reach the foot of the staircase.

Since you’ve been upstairs, he’s shed the stupid black puffy coat he was wearing at the airport. The sweater that was underneath too, it seems, leaving him down to a long-sleeved white thermal.

It makes sense–-Jeju is more temperate than Seoul, and the heat is blasting in the house anyway.

He’s sprawled out on the floor, on his back as he attaches the legs to the kick drum while Jimin deals with the toms. It’s not as if drum kit assembly is particularly interesting to you. You don’t know why you stop and look, but you do.

Yoongi is always so buttoned up, both metaphorically and literally. Especially with the chill that’s been permeating Seoul for the past two months. Everyone’s been drowning in layers—except you, thanks to Hyerin. And it’s so, so stupid, but the hem of Yoongi’s shirt is bunched up just the slightest bit as he reaches for a screwdriver. It’s just the faintest hint of pale skin, right above the waistband of his jeans, but it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him. For some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to look away.

But then he adjusts and its gone, forcing you to snap out of whatever bizarre reverie you’ve found yourself in.

When you glance up, he’s staring right back at you. Your eyes zero in on his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, just a flash of the little silver barbell there before it’s gone again. His eyebrow raises in recognition, like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

…Are you doing something you shouldn’t?

“You’re doing that wrong,” you blurt, relief flooding you when he breaks first, his head swiveling to look over his handiwork with a furrowed brow.

Your diversion gives you enough time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Yoongi’s muttered ‘what the fuck do you know’ reaches your heated ears as you pass by, but you have no choice but to let it go.

What the fuck. You really need to get laid if an inch of skin can make heat crawl up your neck like this. From Min Yoongi, no less.

★ ★ ★

Time spent hiding in the kitchen reveals the method to Taehyung’s cabinet-snooping madness: building a grocery list.

Once your little freakout subsides, you’re fully briefed on the process, joining him in taking stock of what’s here and what isn’t. To your surprise, many of the shelf-friendly basics have been kept in full stock, leaving mostly perishables (meats, vegetables, and fruits) to be added to the list. After Taehyung’s phone is passed around for everyone’s additions, Namjoon and Yoongi roll out to go grocery shopping at a nearby market.

It isn’t lost on you that the pair are acting a bit strangely towards each other—and it can’t just be because of what went down at the dinner. Ever since you met the band at Incheon, they’ve given Yoongi a noticeably wide berth. But the maknaes still talked to him, despite the lackluster responses (grunts) they received in return.

Even Jeongguk has been interacting with Yoongi, and he was the one who drove him out of Yoojung Sikdang in the first place! You haven’t seen Namjoon look his way all day. He still isn’t, you note, as you watch their car retreat through the window.

Weird.

Not that you care, of course. Yoongi deserved what he got at that dinner, as far as you’re concerned. You don’t regret calling those reporters. You told Seokjin you wanted to make his life a living hell, and you’d meant it.

But still, you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at you at the possibility that you’re playing the part of Yoko Ono. You’re sure Yoongi thinks so.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Who gives a fuck? It’s not like you’re here for him. You’re here for Jeongguk. You just need to put him out of your mind, you decide.

You make your way through the house, intent on finding Jeongguk to help with whatever else needs to get done tonight, when you’re ambushed by two maknaes that are clearly up to no good.

“YN-ieeee,” Jimin sing-songs. There’s a mischievous look in his eye as he grabs you by the hand and pulls you towards the living room.

“Come sit with us,” Taehyung insists, plopping himself down on the couch and patting the space next to him.

“I was actually looking for Jeongguk,” you say, eyeing both of them. But you relent anyway, stiffly sitting down on the couch where they now flank you.

“He gets you all the time,” Jimin says. He smiles brightly, turning his body towards you and tilting his head as he studies you. “It’s our turn. We have a question for you.”

Oh, you do not like this one bit.

“A question?”

“A question,” Taehyung repeats, nodding.

“Okay, um,” you start, unsure of which one of them to look at. You settle on Taehyung, because he’s far less menacing. “Go ahead?”

“What’s going on with you and Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asks.

Fuck. So much for putting him out of your mind.

It’s a fair question, but still, your head turns so fast in Jimin’s direction that you swear you hear a crack in your neck.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

“The animosity,” Jimin purrs. He’s still grinning at you, all charming teeth and deceptively cute mochi cheeks. “You both just met, right? Where’d that come from?”

This is a nightmare.

It’s not like you can tell them the truth, as much as you may want to. Until you can figure out exactly what it is Yoongi claims to know about you, he pretty much has you backed into a corner. Plus, you’ll be living with him for at least a few weeks. You’re not against ruining his time here in small, inconsequential ways, but this is decidedly not that.

You’ll keep the peace. For now.

“I think Yoongi-ssi and I just got off on the wrong foot,” you explain. It’s not a complete lie, to be fair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about what happened at Yoojung Sikdang…”

“That was ugly,” Taehyung says, wincing at the memory.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees. “Does he really think the photographers were your fault?”

Yes, because they were.

“I guess so,” you sigh. “I don’t blame him, honestly. I would’ve thought the same if I were him. I feel really bad about the whole thing.”

“Don’t,” Taehyung says emphatically as he clasps one of your hands in his. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Taehyung since you’ve met him, it’s that he’s not very big on personal space. He’s so casual about it, though, that you’re finding you don’t mind all that much.

“We can talk to him if you want us to,” Jimin says. “Yoongi-hyung can be a real asshole when he puts his mind to it, and you don’t deserve that.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” you insist, trying not to panic. For whatever reason, Yoongi has kept his suspicions about you between the two of you. As far as you know, at least. You’d like to keep it that way. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, eyeing you.

“I’m sure.”

Thankfully, they both seemingly let it go after that. When Jeongguk reappears, he joins the three of you on the couch and the conversation moves to safer topics, all of them excitedly chattering to you about what they plan to do while they’re in Jeju.

Apparently, the four always make a point to visit a nearby citrus orchard when they come here. It sounds fun, and for the first time since Jeongguk invited you, you allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of excitement about this trip. You can’t help it. You fucking love tangerines.

Namjoon and Yoongi return from the market an hour or so later.

Namjoon enlists the help of the maknaes to help him haul bags of groceries inside, leaving you to hover awkwardly as Yoongi moves around the kitchen.

He and Namjoon must’ve talked or something. He looks much more at peace than he did when they left. At least, until he catches you staring.

“What?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he procures a cutting board from a cabinet.

“Just wondering if you need any help,” you say, a practiced, saccharine smile on your face.

“From you?” he scoffs. “I’m good.”

“At least I offered.”

“You’re a regular Mother Teresa.”

You roll your eyes as you watch him pull what he needs from the knifeblock, silently praying he cuts one of his precious guitar-playing fingers off. But your intent to voice that hope is thwarted by Namjoon and the rest of the members ambling back inside, arms full of grocery bags.

Yoongi clearly doesn’t want you lingering, so after you help clear off the counter, you make yourself scarce until dinner is done.

You busy yourself with texting Seokjin with an update on how things are going. You know he’s probably at work, so you try to keep it as succinct as possible despite everything that’s happened since you’ve arrived—Yoongi’s icy behavior, the confusion surrounding your sleeping arrangement, the (resolved?) tension between Namjoon and Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung’s interrogation.

And then, because you want him to at least envy you a little bit, you send him pictures of the house—and then brag about your proximity to fish.

You: we’re like a 5 min walk from a fishing port too lol

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help your snort at his response. It’s a selca of him pouting in his scrubs, covered in stickers of an agonized Mario.

SuckJin: I h8 u

You: <3

The rest of the night goes smoothly, all things considered. Yoongi’s maeun-tang is delicious, which is slightly annoying, but you’re not one to take good food for granted. Plus, the two of you are a lot more amicable during this dinner than the last one you shared together.

After dinner, everyone finishes setting up the equipment in the living room, which quickly turns into an impromptu jam session under the guise of testing the setup. It’s nice, being able to watch them play together without the pressure of a stage, of a crowd. They’re just fooling around, playing whatever sounds right, joking back and forth—and you get to witness it.

You’re just about to get out of their hair and head upstairs when Jeongguk gets up, intercepting you before you reach the staircase.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head towards the patio. “Come outside with me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, confused as you follow him outside. Jeongguk guides you over to the swing you were admiring when you’d all arrived. You can’t help but notice how nervous he looks as you both sit, but you try not to assume the worst.

“I feel like you were kinda mad at me,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Earlier.”

About the bed? Yeah, kind of. But you didn’t realize you’d made it so obvious.

“It’s fine,” you insist, shaking your head. “I was more flustered than anything, honestly. I just don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“You won’t,” he huffs, smiling a little. “I moved a couch into our room while Yoongi and Namjoon-hyung were gone. Like I said I would.”

Oh. Well. Now you kind of feel like a bitch.

“I’ll take it,” you offer. “You’re the one who’s here for work, anyway. I’d feel bad if I didn’t—”

“No, I’ll take it,” Jeongguk says, ignoring your responding huff. “Come on, YN-ah. I’ll barely be working while we’re here, anyway. It always goes the same way: Yoongi-hyung pretends like he’s going to let us help, and then he writes the entire album by himself. The rest of us are basically on vacation.”

“Besides, you’re here as a favor to me,” he adds. “Let me take the couch.”

You want to protest, but once Jeon Jeongguk sets his mind to something, it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to stand in his way.

“Fine.”

“Speaking of Yoongi-hyung…”

You groan, leaning your head back against the support of the swing. Everyone wants to talk about Min fucking Yoongi today. “What about him?”

“Is he playing nice?”

“He’s barely spoken to me,” you mutter, turning your head to level Jeongguk with a look. “So yes, he’s playing very nice. For him.”

“What’s his deal with you?” he asks, curious. Isn’t that just the question of the day?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “Jeongguk, it’s fine. Seriously. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him, but I’m dealing with it. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Jeongguk clearly disagrees, but he holds it in, which you’re thankful for. At least you can be more candid with him than you can with Jimin and Taehyung.

“Just let me know if that changes, okay?”

“I will,” you mumble.

“Let me know if anything changes,” he corrects, nudging your shoulder with his. “Like… If you don’t want to do this anymore. I know it’s a lot.”

“It is,” you agree, sighing. “But nothing’s changed, Guk. I’ve dealt with assholes before. Min Yoongi is nothing compared to the worst of them.”

If only he could know just how much you mean that.

“I just wish you two could get along,” he says, fiddling with his lip ring nervously. “Yoongi-hyung is a good guy when you get to know him. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You don’t know what to say to that, partially because you have a hard time believing it. You have absolutely zero evidence that Yoongi is a good guy, and you’re more likely to believe that they’ve all just known each other way too long. That Jeongguk is blinded by admiration for his hyung.

“I’m sorry,” you say, because it’s all you have to offer. “I wish we could get along, too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, the swing rocking your bodies back and forth. But you can only take it for so long.

“I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head as you stand up. “You go ahead. I’ll be in later.”

You feel bad for leaving him alone when he’s so clearly upset, but you know there’s nothing you can say or do to fix it. Just another thing outside of your control. They’re piling up, aren’t they?

You offer him a sympathetic smile, and then you head inside, leaving him with his thoughts.

★ ★ ★

You’re up bright and early the next morning, a full afternoon of Teams meetings ahead of you. Luckily it’s nothing too laborious—some planning for your schedule prior in light of the new year, calls that were scheduled long before you were invited to Jeju.

Jeongguk didn’t make it in before you fell asleep last night. You find that he’s already gone when you wake, too, blankets left in disarray on the couch he’s wedged into the corner of the room.

Guiltily, you resign yourself to staying locked in the bedroom until you’re done with your work. It’s only right to give him time with his hyungs, something he obviously needs after your conversation last night. You’re happy to leave him be, if that’s what he needs.

You’d set your alarm with plenty of time to scroll aimlessly on your phone before you need to get up, so you do just that, reading through missed texts and Instagram notifications in a groggy haze. After, you wash your face and brush your teeth in the adjoining bathroom before setting your laptop up on the bed.

Your calls go fine, although you’re bored to tears the whole time. You don’t know why Seoyeon even adds you to these things—it’s not like you have any control over your career. They might as well cut out the middleman and brief you on their decisions via email. But instead, you silently snack on a power bar you find stashed in your bag as your life for the next calendar year is mapped out for you, smiling and nodding when necessary.

As time passes, you lose track of how many faces have cycled through your screen. You stay glued to the same spot call after call, your stiffened legs pins and needles underneath you, and you only register how much time has passed when the bedroom door swings open.

“Hey. You in a meeting?”

Your eyes snap up from your laptop to find Jeongguk poking his head into the bedroom. With a quick glance to your calendar, you realize you’ve just finished your last call of the day, and it’s not even two in the afternoon.

“No, I’m all done,” you say, shutting your laptop and waving him in. “What’s up?”

“Namjoon-hyung’s gotta go back to Seoul, so we’re taking him to the airport,” Jeongguk says, kicking the door closed behind him and sitting on the edge of the bed. “And then we’re gonna fuck around in Jeju City for a little bit. See the sights and all.”

“Oh, okay.”

Is this an invite, or…?

“Yoongi-hyung’s staying, though.”

Fuck. Nope, not an invite.

“Is he,” you hum, acting as unbothered as possible.

“We got some songs started today,” Jeongguk says, studying your expression for a moment. “The rest of us are burnt out, but he wants to keep going.”

“Well, do you want me to join you guys, or—”

“I want you to stay and talk to him.”

There it is.

“Jeongguk,” you huff, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“YN, it’s worth a shot! Maybe if you two have a chance to talk you’ll find out you have more in common than you think.”

“I don’t think he’ll be happy if I interrupt his songwriting to have some kind of Kumbaya moment, Guk,” you sigh.

Jeongguk stands up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Can’t you at least try?” he says, his voice clipped as he paces. “Both of you are so fucking stubborn. Maybe you can bond over that.”

He’s one to talk about being stubborn, but whatever. You’ll let it slide, only because you feel so fucking guilty.

A long moment passes, and at your silence Jeongguk stops in his tracks to look at you expectantly. Fuck. Fuck this man and his stupid big brown eyes.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you finally say.

“Like I said, I just want you to try.”

He’s still tense, but at the hint of acquiescence from you, he softens. And that little bit of softness is enough for you to fully give.

“Fine,” you huff. You can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Thank you,” he beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, patting his back. Your heart flutters just the slightest bit because you’re a weak, weak woman. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

“I won’t!” he promises, pulling away with a bright grin. Hopes absolutely all the way up.

Goddammit. You hope Yoongi is feeling talkative today, because if not, you’re going to be the one crushing this poor guy’s dreams.

At this point, you’ll make him talk if you have to. Anything to keep that from happening.

“Go,” you say, nudging him towards the door. “I can’t talk to him until you guys leave.”

He clearly doesn’t need any more motivation than that, because then he’s out the door.

“You’re the best, YN!” he calls as he books it down the hallway, leaving you to flop back onto the bed with a groan.

Well. You’ve fucked yourself now.

***

You allow yourself the luxury of taking a shower before you head downstairs to face Yoongi. Maybe part of you is trying to prolong your peace, but you also haven’t felt clean since you got off the plane yesterday.

Still, you take your time, giving your hair a thorough wash and meticulously applying your skincare. By the time you dry off and exit the bathroom, a large cloud of steam follows you into the bedroom, still lingering in the air as you pull on some clean clothes.

What’s the right outfit to wear while you’re waving a white flag at your sworn enemy? Will a sweater and jeans cut it? You reason that you might as well be comfortable for this, settling on something soft and cashmere for the top—because you’re worth it!—and then pulling on a baggy pair of blue jeans.

Your socked feet finally pad down the stairs in search of the man himself, but you don’t have to look very far.

Yoongi sits cross-legged on the floor in the living room, his signature custom McCarty laid across his lap as he scribbles in the notebook in front of him, brow furrowed.

You know it’s not going to be easy to get him to talk, but you can’t help but feel annoyed when you sit down in front of him and he doesn’t even lift his head. Asshole.

“Yoongi,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face.

It doesn’t make him look at you, still scribbling away, but you at least get a grunt in return this time. You’ll take it.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” you say. It’s obvious you’re fishing, but looking at him, it’s clear he needs one anyway. He looks exhausted. Did he even sleep? Or did he start working when everyone else called it a night? He’s not wearing the same clothes from last night, white thermal replaced with a black t-shirt and matching beanie, but that doesn’t mean he slept.

Not that you care.

“No.”

Okay, you expected that. God forbid he make things easy for you.

You watch as he drops his pen, gaze still on his open notebook as he strums at the strings of his guitar, humming a half-baked melody under his breath.

“Why’d you pick Jeju?” you ask, satisfaction swelling when he glances up, meeting your eyes. But then it fizzles out when he looks away again.

The seconds tick by and he remains as tight-lipped as ever. Annoyed and antsy, you resort to filling the silence yourself, hoping you’ll get him to break if you just keep talking.

“I mean, it’s nice here, but you guys could write an album anywhere. There’s gotta be a reason you picked here, of all places.”

More silence. You want to give up—you could give up. You could easily tell Jeongguk you tried, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. But you owe it to him to try harder.

Huffing, you reach out and close the notebook between your sitting bodies, earning a sharp glare from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, Yoongi,” you plead. “I’m really trying to get to know you here.”

With a long sigh, Yoongi looks up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling dramatically.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up. What do you wanna know?”

Triumphantly, you ask about the house—if you’re going to be forced to make nice, you might as well ask questions you actually want to know the answers to. Who actually owns this house and why seems like as good a place to start as any.

“I own it,” Yoongi says. It seems like he’s going to try and leave it at that, but when you fix him with a withering stare, he continues with a sigh. “It used to be an Airbnb, but after our first stay I wanted it for myself. So once I had enough money from the first album, I negotiated with the owner. Bought it for a ridiculous price, but it’s mine.”

“It looks so well-maintained,” you offer, hoping he’ll continue if you resort to flattery. Plus, it’s true.

“I didn’t just buy it for us,” he says opening his notebook again. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he slides it out of your reach. “My family uses it sometimes, like a vacation home. When I was growing up, they always talked about taking family trips here during the summer, but money was too tight most of the time. Now they can come whenever they want.”

Oh. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Huh.

To your surprise, he entertains more of your questions without a fight. Where does his family live? (Daegu.) Does he have any siblings? (An older brother.) Is the swing outside really handbuilt? (Yes.) Who built it? (Yoongi did.)

His answers are succinct, but at the very least you’ve got him talking. As he continues to strum his guitar, you decide to push your luck and switch topics, hoping he’ll continue to play along.

“What are you working on?”

Yoongi grins, meeting your eyes again. “I’m writing a song for you.”

Uh oh.

He’s fucking with you, right?

All kinds of alarms are going off in your head, but still, you can’t help yourself. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Listen.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi starts playing the chords he’s been half-heartedly strumming since you sat down, this time in earnest. And then, his gravelly voice fills your ears as he sings the lyrics he has written down in front of him.

Well, it's ever so funny 'Cause I don't think you're special, I don't think you're cool You're just probably alright But under these lights you look beautiful And I'm struggling, I can't see through your fake tan Yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands

But what do you know? Oh, you know nothing Yeah, but I'll still take you home

What. The. Fuck.

Is this why he’s been entertaining you this whole time? Was it all just a set-up for the most insulting punchline you’ve ever heard in your life?

He doesn’t even bother to suppress his laughter when you snatch his notebook and throw it clear across the room.

“You are such an asshole!” you shout, surging forward to push roughly at his chest.

“Come on, dollface,” he says, shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. “It was funny.”

“The fuck it was,” you snap, scrambling to your feet. Fuck this. You can really say you’ve tried now, and you don’t think Jeongguk would blame you one bit for calling it quits after Yoongi’s little show.

You turn on your heel, ready to run upstairs and lock yourself in your room until the maknaes get home, when you feel a strong hand grab your elbow. You don’t know when Yoongi got up, but before you can react, you’re whirled around to face him with your back pressed against the banister.

“I knew you were boring, but I thought you’d at least have a sense of humor.”

“Fuck you,” you say through gritted teeth, jerking your elbow out of his grasp. He lets go easily, but for some reason, you don’t move. You don’t retreat up the stairs. Instead, you stand stock still as the both of you stare at each other, your chest rising and falling with your anger-fueled breaths.

Just like he had when he caught you staring yesterday, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. A challenge.

“What’s your problem with me?” you manage, unsure of what to do with the way he’s staring you down. Why is he so close to you? Why can’t you bring yourself to move away?

“Stupid question. I’ve been pretty clear about that.”

“No, seriously,” you snap, jabbing your index finger into the center of his chest. “You said you know more about me than I think. What do you know?”

Silence. Nothing but a stupid, amused smirk plastered on his face. Of course. If he wants you to play a guessing game, you will. Not knowing exactly what he’s holding over your head is driving you insane, and you can’t do it anymore.

“Do you know about the photos?” you ask, your voice weak now.

Yoongi blinks at you, bewildered.

“Huh?”

You let out the breath that you were holding. Thank fuck. Thank fuck. Okay, he doesn’t know. Holy shit, you’ve never felt so relieved.

Shaking your head, you soldier on, despite your overwhelming urge to throw up. Your mind wanders to the lyrics he sang to you just a few moments ago. I'll still take you home. Instead of the power bar you ate earlier, a sudden bark of a laugh escapes your throat, visibly startling Yoongi.

“Do you want to fuck me or something? Is that what this is about?” It’s your turn to be amused now, especially when Yoongi sputters and turns bright pink right in front of your eyes. “You’re jealous that Jeongguk got to me first?”

“The fuck? Are you insane?”

“If that’s not it, what the hell is it, Yoongi? What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so much?”

Huffing, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest. It’s clear that he’s torn about whether or not he should lay all of his cards on the table right now, but you’re not giving him much of a choice. You’re so wired that you might strangle him if he decides to bite his tongue.

Finally, he speaks.

“I just happen to be pretty good friends with Yoo Kihyun.”

Just like that, your hard-earned upper hand disappears and your stomach drops to your goddamn ass.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

There’s a name you haven’t heard in a while.

It’s satisfying, seeing you falter.

In fact, it makes Yoongi feel all the more justified in the way he feels about you. He’d started to doubt himself after his phone call with Namjoon last week, but if just the sound of Kihyun’s name makes you look like you’re about to shit your pants, he must be on the right track.

“I… Oh,” you say, dumbstruck.

Yeah, Yoongi’s fucking caught your ass.

“Good enough explanation for you?” he asks, smug. Rightfully so, too, he thinks.

But then you’re grabbing him by the wrist, glancing around like someone’s going to fucking overhear you or something. Like it’s not just the two of you here.

“Come here,” you hiss as you drag him to the nearest bedroom, which just so happens to be his, slamming the door shut behind you.

Yoongi watches with amusement as you pace around the room, but his patience is wearing thin. He has shit to do.

“If you have more of your stupid fucking questions, just ask them,” he snaps. “You’re wasting my time.”

“What did Kihyun say about me?”

Ah. Wouldn’t you like to know?

But he’ll tell you, only because he’s feeling nice. You’ve put him in a good mood.

“Mostly that you were a shit girlfriend,” Yoongi says, smirking at you as he shrugs.

“I—”

“Felt bad for the guy, honestly. I’ve known him for years, you know, and he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a good looking guy. But I’d never seen him so fucked up over a girl until he started dating you.”

“Yoongi…”

“And then one day, he calls me out of the blue, right? It wasn’t the first time he’d complained to me about you, and I figured I was in for more of the same,” he says, leaning back against the door as you perch at the end of his bed, wobbly. “But he said something pretty interesting, actually.”

“What?” you ask. Your voice is shaky. Yoongi grins.

“He told me he thought you were using him,” he says. “You barely talked to him, never took interest in anything he liked. Hardly spent time with him.” He pauses, before adding, “unless there were cameras involved. It’s a reasonable conclusion to draw, don’t you think?”

When you remain silent, Yoongi’s more than happy to continue.

“I tell him he shouldn’t have to take that shit, you know? It’s not fair. He’s a really good guy. So he tells me he’s going to invite you over, at least give you a chance to explain yourself before he dumps you. He didn’t want it to be a big thing, wanted to end things quietly.”

You whimper at that, your head in your hands now.

“Next thing I know, I’m seeing headline after headline,” he says, tilting his head at you. “And less than twenty four hours later, you’re at an award show, putting on this pitiful act for sympathy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think Kihyun was lying to me,” he says, matter-of-fact. “He’s not that type of guy. Everyone knows that. Admit it, you were using him. And now you’re doing the same thing to Jeongguk.”

When you look up, you have tears in your eyes. Yoongi’s gotta hand it to you, your acting is getting much better.

“I was a shit girlfriend,” you concede, sniffling. “But I wasn’t using Kihyun.”

Okay. He’ll bite.

“Why even bother dating him, then? You obviously didn’t like him that much.”

“I just—” you cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath. “He was nice. That’s hard to come by.”

“Too boring for you in the end, then?”

Yoongi expects you to snap at him, to get angry, but instead you let out a watery little laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Hm. Okay.

He’s not sure what to do with that.

“Look,” you say, wiping at your eyes as you stand up from his bed. “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re wrong about me, and I’m honestly sick of trying. You want to hate me? Fine. I hate you, too.”

At least they can agree on something, Yoongi thinks.

“But Jeongguk asked me to talk to you,” you add. “He’s hurting.”

God fucking dammit. Yeah, Yoongi noticed how fucked up Jeongguk looked when he finally came inside last night. Part of him was hoping that you two had gotten into it, that Jeongguk was about to buy you a one-way ticket back to Seoul.

But no. It was about him.

Fuck.

“Can’t we just pretend to get along? For his sake?” you ask. “Call a truce, at least as long as I’m here?”

Shit. You really care about him.

Yoongi’s still not convinced the relationship isn’t bullshit, but this doesn’t seem like acting. He thinks about what Namjoon said over the phone, about the idea of losing Jeongguk over something so stupid.

Pretending to get along with you while you’re in Jeju wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not if it means he gets to keep Jeongguk. He can always have a heart-to-heart with the kid after you fly home.

With a sigh, Yoongi relents. “Fine. But I still don’t fucking trust you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, holding out your hand for him to shake. Reluctantly, Yoongi takes it.

“Great,” he says, dropping your hand in an instant. “Can I go back to work now?”

“Do what you want,” you say, shoving past him to open his bedroom door.

And then you’re gone.

★ ★ ★

Yoongi doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but even as he works, you invade every single one of his thoughts. The songwriting streak he’d been on since last night comes to a grinding halt, leaving him with nothing to show for his day alone.

When the kids get back, rowdy and excited, Yoongi’s guitar is long forgotten as he lays across the couch. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when Jeongguk makes a beeline straight for him.

“YN talked to you?” Jeongguk asks hopefully, and Yoongi’s heart clenches.

A truce.

Well, no better time than now to start.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up in what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Yeah, Guk-ah. We’re all good.”

Relief flashes over Jeongguk’s face, and for the first time since Yoojung Sikdang, Yoongi’s on the receiving end of one of his genuine, big grins. He feels bad lying to the kid, but it’s not like you’ve left him with much choice. And it feels good to be the recipient of one of those again.

Still, Yoongi can’t help but think about what you’d said earlier.

Yoongi might’ve shown his hand, but in a way you did, too. The photos? What the fuck did you mean by that? Is there something out there that can point to your guilt, and all Yoongi has to do is go digging for it?

Not to mention your resigned agreement when he guessed Kihyun was too nice for you, too boring. Maybe he can’t use Kihyun against you like he thought he could, but the way you’d looked at Yoongi when he was setting up Jimin’s drums…

That he can use.

He’ll hold up his end of the truce, so long as you do the same.

But you can’t blame him for wanting to know the truth.

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thewidowsledger · 3 months ago

Text

The Call

Chapter 7: Eyes On Me | 2.1k

Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Tags | Warnings: 18+ sexual tension, flirting, making out due to...some circumstances...

Author's Note: Happy Birthday to the father of my children and to my daddy😜✊ final chapter to be posted in an hour🫶

Navigation | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

⧗

It had been months since Natasha returned under you. And you have never been happier, especially you two are back having lunch together. You never gave her a hard time again with work, you slowly caved in, but she received a handful from you from accepting missions from your father.

And now, both of you are assigned on a mission together as partners since she's moving further to Clint's level.

"Hey Y/N, how's it going? You good there?" the redhead's voice crackled through the comm.

"I'm working on it," you muttered into your comm, trying to sound composed. "I'm fine, what does it look like out there?"

The redhead's response made you pause. "Boring without you." You could practically hear the smile in her voice, even though the security cameras failed to capture her full beauty. You shifted your gaze back to the main screen, scanning the files for the necessary intel.

"I see her," you said, watching the monitor as the target approached. It was the wife of a wealthy, well-connected, and definitely not law-abiding citizen who was profiting off of all the art present at the auction, both real and counterfeit. "That's your cue, spider."

She groaned, her voice coming through your headset. "Come on, you know I'm terrible at this," she complained.

You couldn't help yourself, a smirk creeping into your voice as you continued your work. "Terrible? I've seen you flirt Natasha. Up close," you added.

Natasha quietly said, "Let me," retrieving a sparkling glass of champagne for the lady.

You listened to their open comms, hearing the subtle flirting and small talk. The target drank up the compliments Natasha shamelessly lavished upon her, batting her eyes in response.

The target asked, "Are you here to buy one of the works of art?"

Natasha paused, and you knew exactly what she was doing. She was looking down at her feet, then slowly raising her gaze, raising a cool brow; "I see only one masterpiece worth anything right in front of me."

You rolled her eyes at that. "That was terrible."

"Miss Romanoff!" The target's laughter filled the air as she playfully shoved Natasha, but the contact lingered, her hand resting on Natasha's bicep. You watched the moment unfold through the visual feed.

You couldn't resist reminding her to be mindful, "Rein it in, Natalia." You didn't expect an answer since she couldn't respond with the target present. However, you heard her chuckle, enjoying herself far too much.

Natasha then inquired, "Although, should I be worried about the masterpiece on your finger?"

The target displayed a massive diamond, a sparkling band, a symbolically sea-stained masterpiece akin to the space stone you sought.

"Oh," the target tucked her hair back, displaying a hint of shyness. "I...uhm...my husband and I are together by name, I suppose. But he could name the inventory number of this piece before he could remember my middle name," she admitted.

"What a disservice to such a beautiful woman."

You keyed in her commands and watched as the data transfer began. It felt slower than it usually did. "Too much, Natalia, too much."

"And what service should a beautiful woman like me have?"

Your brows raised. You could respect the target for going after what she wanted. It just wasn't allowed to be Natasha.

"How about..." Natasha paused, her stance shifting. Unseen by the camera, you knew the target's hand, hidden by their closeness at the bar, was likely slipping against Natasha's hand, attempting to extract her room key. "I meet you in 20 minutes and show you?"

You watched intently, your finger tapping anxiously against the desk with each step the target made towards the elevators. You manually switched cameras to follow her and couldn't help feeling compelled, observing her every move. The target stepped onto the elevator and began primping, adjusting her hair and dress in front of the mirror.

"Meet you up there?"

You couldn't help but playfully tease her, "Don't you have a hot date waiting for you upstairs? I wouldn't want to interrupt."

"Come on, I got the key, didn't I?" Natasha laughed, sounding more like herself as she loosened the buttons on her suit.

You mimicked her earlier words in a thick, drawling tone, repeating, "What a disservice to such beautiful woman."

"Yeah, okay, it was a little much. But it got the job done."

"Toying with the poor woman's heart, Natalia?" You let out a faint laugh as the data transfer completed. You stood, "this job has changed you."

"Hey," she sounded offended, she obviously looked down at her shirt to speak directly into the mic in her collar. "You know you're the only woman for me. And please stop with the government name, please? You're scaring me." Natasha whined.

You huffed, ignoring the heat flushing you cheeks. "Your little pick up lines won't work on me, you realize."

"I realize," She paused for an effect. "They're true when they're for you."

"Luckily the target craves flattery like her husband craves the tesseract," You mused as you headed to an elevator. A freight elevator, but still. "I'll try not to startle your girlfriend."

Okay, maybe you were laying it on a little thick, now.

But Natasha laughed loudly, having the elevator to the lavish suite all to herself. "Well I hope she doesn't mind that I invited my wife."

You rolled your eyes, knowing she could sense the smile lurking beneath your exasperation. She was too charming for her own good, and it both annoyed and delighted you.

⧗

You spoke into your earpiece, seemingly to yourself, "Eyes on me?"

"They've never left." Natasha's voice came through, warm and mischievous.

"Tasha." You fought the urge to smile amidst the opulent room, surrounded by art and a-list partygoers. You moved through the crowd, playing the role of an admirer and making a show of appreciating the decor.

You had argued that Natasha would be the better choice to actually roam the party, with her talkative and charming demeanor. She could easily extract clues from attendees about the target, the husband of the earlier target. However, you felt your ability to blend in visually while staying quiet could prove useful, much like you did now, close enough face-wise to another family of guests that a fake name allowed you entry into the party without question.

"Anything yet?" Natasha spoke through the comms from her position at the coat check-in, hoping to get an early look at everyone in attendance.

You took a sip from your untouched glass of champagne, pretending to enjoy it delicately. "No word," you responded. "Any sightings?"

"I've seen the wife, I had to hide. That's no easy not gonna lie, but no sign of her husband himself," Natasha muttered back.

You heard her accept the coat of another guest in your ear and slipped around a corner.

"Oh, he's here."

You heard Natasha accepting another coat, and you slipped around a corner. When she mentioned the target's presence, you gently pulled at the skirt of your dress, moving more briskly through the party toward the coat closet. Taking advantage of the loosened vent panel Natasha had left for you, you slipped through the back, entering the coat closet undetected.

"Good evening, sir," you heard Natasha greet warmly.

"If I see a speck of dirt on that—" the target huffed at Natasha immediately.

"Of course, sir," Natasha responded and probably even smiled at the asshole. "Nothing but the best."

"Prick," You muttered under your breath as you closed and locked the study door behind you and made your way to the corner of the room and up the bookshelf.

"Don't make me laugh, I have to be serious," Natasha slightly hissed.

Well you did your best to keep a straight face and not laugh too, it was hard with Natasha as your partner. You slithered up the shelves into the vent, gritting your teeth at the cramped fit. The old house and its miserable ventilation were less than ideal, but at least modern H-Vac installations made them manageable. As you settled in the vent, you asked, "Meet you in there?"

"I've never had the opportunity to sneak off to the coat closet before," Natasha teased as she made her way away from the front entrance and into the walk-in closet.

Your banter continued as you made your way one room across, replying, "Oh, I've seen you sneak out a lot, spider."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

You let out a genuine laugh, finally reaching your destination. Popping out of the vent and catching the cover, you peeked your head out. "Got me?" you asked, Natasha poised to catch you. As you slid down from the duct, still wearing your slippery silk dress, she caught you in her arms like a princess from a fairy tale.

As she bounced you in her arms, making you laugh again, she jested, "Miss, if you needed your coat, you could have just asked."

"This way was faster," you shook your head as Natasha set you down in your stocking feet. Moving through the room, you tiptoed quietly behind her. "Ugh, men like this need to learn that less cologne is more," you commented.

Natasha sighed as she pulled the coat off the rack, agreeing about the cologne, adding, "I know, I feel like it's all over my hands." She checked the real coat pockets, finding them empty, then moved to the lining, explaining, "Nothing at all in the real pockets, but I thought there might be something in the lining."

You ran your hands over both sides of the heavy wool and its satin lining. It was a beautifully made garment, and Natasha was right to be suspicious of the pockets. "In the side, here."

Natasha held it taut for you as you pulled the slit of your dress upward. She averted her eyes, blushing as your reached up to the inside of your thigh.

You shook your head at it as you retrieved the knife you had snuck in. Natasha had quite an innocent side to her—a belief in chivalry even though she is a woman herself, of sorts, even in your line of work.

"Where is that coat girl?!"

"Shit," Natasha cursed, frantically hanging the coat back on the rack. Despite being quite a distance from their exit point and the front doors already open, she apologized, her voice tinged with urgency. "Sorry–c'mere."

You barely had time to ask why she had apologized before she pulled you in, her arm wrapping around your waist. You closed your eyes as your lips met hers, intentional or not, a moan escaped from you.

"Who's in here?!"

Natasha moaned against you in response, her hands roaming to your bare shoulders. She moved her body sensuously, deliberately shaking the coat racks on either side of you as a cover for your movement.

A loud voice demanded, "What are you doing?!" One of the house's main staff shone a flashlight at Natasha, prompting her to quickly come up with an excuse.

"Uh, s-sorry, Boss!" she stuttered, hastily turning around and making a show of wiping your lipstick off her skin.

The flashlight bounced around as you made an effort to pull out a few stray hairs from your immaculate bun. The butler scowled, pointing his flashlight at you, scolding, "I do not—Madam!"

You raised a cool brow at him as you dabbed at your lips delicately, maintaining your composure.

The butler immediately bowed to you, apologizing profusely, "I-I-I am terribly sorry to disturb you," before quickly turning down his flashlight and scrambling out of the room.

Both of you waited for a count of five before letting out a breath of relief, your hearts still racing. Natasha sighed, placing a hand on her pounding heart. She glanced at you as you tucked back the hair you had just pulled out, and she apologized, "Sorry to, uh, jump you like that."

You cleared your throat, grateful for the darkened room that hid your glowing cheeks. "It was quick thinking, although I'm sure the staff are already gossiping about the heiress of a prestigious Sokovian family making out with a coat check girl."

Natasha shrugged, "Well, maybe she was just a very charming coat check girl." She pulled the coat off the hanger once again. "Round two?"

You rolled your eyes as you retrieved your knife, readying yourself to cut open the coat seam and find the target's secret dossier of information about the whereabouts of the tesseract. It gave you a task to focus on, attempting to ignore the fact that you were breathing a bit heavier after that kiss.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic

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amorchai · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ n.p

⭑ ttpd collection!

pairing(s): neil perry x female!reader

summary: a romance between two individuals from different worlds who must keep their love secret due to familial expectations.

words: 1171

warnings/tags: r is considered 'lower class' since neil is upper.

the last place you would be seen near was neil perry’s family home. his harsh father would banish you away and punish your boyfriend for ever interacting with someone as “low” as you could be considered.

using your time after high school, which was very much a public school, to paint away in your room. the dream of becoming an art phenomenon in the greater future which neil only fuelled you to pursue.

neil was upper class, in a private school of all boys, your families different from one another in every way. each weekend neil’s parents throwing adult parties filled with fancy champagne and “hors d oeuvres” while you sat on your couch catching up on homework and your latest book.

neither of you told anyone in your spaces, not neil’s friends, not yours, and especially not his parents. on days he told his dad he was doing extracurricular school activities, he would be over at yours, writing playscripts and cuddled in your company.

so when neil left his prized possession at your house, you had to sought out to him as your next planned time wasn’t for another week. and neil would worry about leaving such a thing.

you awkwardly stood outside his school gates, glancing around feeling out of place of the rich bricked building encased with golden statues and gates. you tried to look nonchalant, but with this large an item held in your arms, you definitely stuck out.

in fact, it was the first thing neil’s friends noticed while the final bell indicated the end of day, the moment they stepped out in deep chatter, he heard knox’s exclaim of interest, “who is that?”

when his friend said this, neil didn’t expect his girlfriend to be standing far out the gates, amidst students leaving for the weekend. “hot, hot, hot,” charlie mused and they all seem to take notice of your frame.

neil glances around slightly nervous, chuckling along to his friends as they leave the gates. while saying their goodbyes, most leaving in separate groups depending on their journey, todd turns to his friend, “you coming?”

“i’ll catch up with you,” neil says, watching you with a small smile from across the main road. “you gonna try talking to her?” he asks, and neil smirks with a small chuckle again following, “maybe.”

he looks either way before crossing, your state giddy as your boyfriend walks towards you. “well, why are you here?” neil asks amused, glancing down at his typewriter encased by your arms. his typewriter. which now he realised he left at your place, you saving his weekend plans cooped up in his room telling his dad he’s doing homework when he’s writing away in his nook.

“you left your typewriter, and i knew you wouldn’t be able to get it back till next week. we can’t have that, can we?” you reply, neil glancing around to ensure his friends are out of sight before bending down to kiss your cheek sweetly. leaving a warm feeling upon the skin.

“here,” neil replies, lifting the machine from your arms and into his own before kissing your other cheek several times, erupting you into giggles as you push his arm jokingly. “you definitely can’t come back to mine?” you say with a slight pout, his hair flopping in front of his eyes in a boyish charm and you swoon.

he shakes his head sympathetically, “sorry, my love. my father got a big promotion, he’s got his boss and his wife over for dinner tonight, wants me there. i’ll see you wednesday though…”

it didn’t seem enough, you both felt it and you tug on the part of his tie visible above the typewriter to pull him down and press a chaste kiss upon neil’s lips and he smiles into it. “would much rather sit and watch you paint,” he swoons and you nod.

it’s just a shame you are both from completely different worlds.

he can tell you’re thinking about something, your eyes looked at his but were glazed in worry and he tilts his head inquisitively, breaking you from your reverie as you ask, “do you ever think we’ll be able to stop being so secretive?”

neil smiles softly, wanting nothing more. he dreams of a day where he moves away from his parents, under his own roof so his dad can’t give him a scolding when he finds out about neil’s girlfriend.

it wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, he was far from it. it was just so complicated, with his dad so very involved in every aspect of neil’s life, desperate for his son to go far and wide in the career world.

“of course, once i finish school this year i can apply to college and move out.”

he made it sound so simple, his eyes kind as they scan the features across your face, his smile growing which makes yours raise in response as well. and despite there being a big typewriter blocking your way, you can’t help but lean in and wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“these little moments matter just as much to me as anything else, though.” you murmur as his mouth leaves small kisses to your head since his hands hold the heavy object, “me too, my love. i plan on marrying you and living happy ever after. no one, not even my dad, is gonna stop me from doing that.”

you feel your heart ready to burst, the seriousness of his words enough to ease your worries, “who said we’re going to get married?” you muse with a teasing smile. neil is unable to tear his eyes from your face, despite having aching arms and being late home.

“oh, i said, did i not tell you?” neil laughs and you join in, your own bubble between you both as neil feels wary of being so close to you outside his school. “good luck with that,” you continue, tugging his tie again before standing back.

he smiles warmly at you, eyes gleaming, “i’ll need all the luck i can get when i’m dating someone as out of my league as you.” you shake your head teasingly at him, he couldn’t be serious. he was the one with a rich high-class background with the picture-perfect family – despite how it really depicts behind closed doors, it was very much the other way round.

“i’m serious! the forbidden love will seize soon as i plan to get down on one knee in years to come before you find out how out of my league you really are.” you raise your leg off the ground to nudge neil’s foot with your own, “you’re really something, neil.”

he smiles at you, moving towards the path he will take home, “i’ll see you on wednesday, okay?” and you’re nodding, “of course, bring the works you write this weekend with you.”

“always, my beautiful.” and despite the cold fall air, the entire walk home your cheeks feel positively on fire.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

#➵ amorchai works ౨ৎ #── .⟢ ttpd collection #dead poet’s society ⁑ ꒰ა neil perry ໒꒱#neil perry #neil perry x reader #neil perry x you #neil perry imagine #neil perry fanfiction #dps #dps fandom #dead poets fandom #neil perry headcanons #dead poets society #dead poets society fandom #dead poets society imagine #dead poets society headcanons #dead poets society fanfic

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thisapplepielife · 2 months ago

Text

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Into a Tailspin

Prompt Day 27: Traffic | Word Count: 959 | Rating: E | CW: Sexual Content, Premature Ejaculation | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, First Kiss, Getting Together, Virgin Eddie, Coming in Jeans

Eddie can feel the hum of the road beneath the tires, as they're piled together in the back of the Wheeler station wagon. Far too many of them for the space available, and somehow Steve always ends up in the very back. Now, by association, Eddie is in the back, too.

It's been a long day. A trip to Indy, a day full of Christmas shopping and seeing lights, and now they're all exhausted for the long, long ride home.

Everyone is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Well, except for Nancy and Robin in the front, which is good, since Nancy's driving. They keep changing the music to things Eddie isn't at all fond of, but Eddie can hear Robin's nervous chatter, and he smiles internally, just a little. She's trying. He's not sure if she'll ever get there, but she's definitely working at projecting what she wants out into the universe.

Nancy plays everything closer to the vest, so Eddie's not totally sure if she feels the same way, but he's willing to be she's not exactly uninterested.

Eddie shifts on the floorboard, and his arm bumps into Steve's.

They're so close that he nearly feels Steve's breath on his face. Eddie's pretending to be asleep, and he doesn't know why he's faking it. That's not true. He knows why. It's the only way he feels like he can be this close to Steve.

Like Robin, he's been throwing it out there, hoping it'll stick. It hasn't, not so far, and that's okay. Eddie gets it.

Eddie's just about to doze off for real, when Steve's hand finds Eddie's hip, and Eddie doesn't even have time to react to that before Steve's mouth is on his. And not only is Steve kissing him, his tongue is already in Eddie's mouth.

Holy shit.

It's his first kiss, and it's a French kiss.

Eddie isn't really sure what to do with that information.

He kisses him back, hoping that it's not awful. He's also hoping that everyone else around is actually truly asleep, not faking like the two of them were, or peeking over the backseat.

Gravitating towards each other now seems crazy, and Eddie can't even wrap his head around it. He feels like he's been flirting with Steve for months, and now is the moment he realizes it's been working?

There's not much by way of traffic on the highway this late at night, but a car does pass, their headlights filling the interior of the station wagon, and they pull apart, where Eddie is able to see Steve's eyes, just for a moment.

And then it's over, and Eddie just has to lay there and overthink his entire life.

Back in Hawkins, the car stops, and sleepy kids pile out. Eddie feels pulled taut, on edge. Steve gets out, stretches his arms over his head, showing Eddie a sliver of hairy stomach.

Eddie wants to die. Wants to melt into the pavement and cease to be. Was it nothing? Was it everything? Eddie doesn't know, and he can't ask. There are too many prying ears of little shitheads. Is he really gonna have to go home and just stew about this? He'll go mad. Crazy. Lose his goddamn mi-

"Want a ride home?" Steve asks, interrupting his spiral, like it's any normal night. Like they haven't shifted something fundamentally between them.

But Eddie nods, because he wants to see this through. Wants answers.

Wants to do it again.

Barely out of the driveway, Steve's hand is on his thigh, and creeping higher.

Eddie's not opposed. He just isn't experienced, that's all. His dick is already straining against the zipper of his jeans, and he wants to squirm against the leather seat to relieve some of the pressure. Steve's torturing him. Not on purpose, probably. He surely doesn't know that this is new for Eddie, that it's thrown him into a tailspin.

A very horny tailspin.

Steve's driving, watching the road, and when they stop at the traffic light on Main, no other cars around, Steve's fingers brush Eddie's crotch. Fingertips ghosting across denim, a promise in the form of light grazes, but even that's too much. He can't. Eddie presses the back of his head into the headrest, squeezes his eyes shut, and comes.

Just like that, in his jeans.

Now, he really does wish the ground had swallowed him up in the Wheeler's driveaway.

"Goddamn," Steve says.

Eddie whines, and presses his fist to his forehead, eyes still squeezed shut.

"No, that's good," Steve says, eyes still on the road, "that's real good. Take the edge off, because I've got plans for you."

And if Eddie could come again already, he's sure he would have from that mental image alone.

Steve's thumb is still rubbing the head of Eddie's cock through the wet spot on his jeans. It's bordering on painful, he's too sensitive, too far gone. Too new at this. But it feels good, too. Like he's on the sharpest knife's edge, trying to decide which way to tumble. Pain or pleasure. He's gripping the console with one hand, his own forehead with the other, trying to stop his chest from heaving.

Eddie finally has to cover Steve's hand with his own. He doesn't pull it away, instead he guides it lower, pressing harder, further down. Changing it up to a good pressure, one that's not so solely focused on the head of his spent cock.

No matter what Steve has in mind, Eddie's down. He's in. Steve can show him the ropes. He can tie him up with the ropes. Anything, everything.

The light goes green.

Eddie's imagination is overactive with the possibilities, as Steve pulls through the intersection and keeps driving.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! 🚘

#steddieholidaydrabbles #prompt: traffic #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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elliesappetite · 2 months ago

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The Name That Broke Us (Confrontation)

"To Ashes And Blood" - WOODKID

FREE PALESTINE

Vi x Fem Reader

Rating: 17+

Tags: Angst, mention of caitvi, caitlyn is still in love with vi :(, both sides are right in their own way, vi is confused and scared, y/n is also scared and confused,

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The chill of the night air hit you like a slap, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading through your chest. Each step away from the apartment felt heavier than the last, but you forced yourself to keep walking. The streets of the Undercity were quieter than usual, a rare reprieve from the usual chaos. Yet, the silence only amplified the storm in your mind.

You tried to ground yourself, focusing on the sound of your boots against the cracked pavement, the faint hum of distant machinery, the muffled voices of those hidden in the shadows. But no matter what you did, her voice echoed in your head.

“Caitlyn.”

You clenched your fists, trying to banish the name. It wasn’t fair—not to you, not to her, not even to Caitlyn, whoever she really was to Vi. You knew the stories, of course. The Enforcer from Piltover. The one who had fought beside Vi, the one who had pulled her out of some of the darkest moments of her life.

You couldn’t compete with a history like that.

Your steps faltered, and you found yourself leaning against a grimy wall in a darkened alley. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. You had been strong in front of Vi; you didn’t want to crumble now. But the weight of everything was suffocating.

She had been your anchor in the chaos of the Undercity, the one person who made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could find a little light in the darkness. But tonight had shattered that illusion.

You exhaled shakily and pushed yourself upright. Standing still wouldn’t help. You needed to move, to do something, anything to keep from spiraling further.

So, you walked.

The Undercity had always been a maze, but tonight it felt even more tangled, like the streets were trying to swallow you whole. You weren’t sure where you were going, but eventually, you ended up at an old bar tucked away from the main drag. It was a place you’d been to a handful of times before, usually when you needed to escape for a while.

The dim lighting and the low murmur of conversations were a welcome contrast to the turmoil in your mind. You slid onto a stool at the bar, nodding to the bartender.

“Something strong,” you muttered.

The bartender, a grizzled man with a kind face, didn’t ask questions. He slid a glass of amber liquid toward you, and you downed it in one go, savoring the burn.

“Rough night?” he asked after a moment, his tone casual but sympathetic.

“You could say that,” you replied, your voice hoarse.

He didn’t press further, moving off to tend to another customer. You appreciated the space.

As you nursed your second drink, the door to the bar creaked open, and you froze. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Y/N.”

Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You kept your eyes on your drink, refusing to acknowledge her.

Vi moved closer, stopping a few feet away. You could feel her presence, her energy, like a static charge in the air.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” she began, her voice low and filled with regret. “But I couldn’t just let you walk away like that.”

You let out a bitter laugh, finally turning to look at her. Her face was drawn, her eyes rimmed with red, and there was a vulnerability in her expression that you rarely saw.

“Why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “So you could apologize again? Try to convince me that Caitlyn doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“She does mean something to me,” Vi admitted, and your heart sank. “But it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, standing to face her. The other patrons in the bar glanced your way, but you didn’t care. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell feels like you’re still in love with her.”

“I’m not,” she said quickly, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “But she’s… she’s a part of my past that I can’t just erase. Caitlyn saved me in ways I can’t even explain. She believed in me when no one else did.”

“And what about me?” you asked, your voice cracking. “I’ve been here, Vi. I’ve fought for you, stood by you, loved you. Does that not matter?”

“It does,” she said, stepping closer. Her voice softened, and she reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “Y/N, it matters more than you know. But I can’t change the fact that I’m still figuring this out. I’m still figuring me out.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You wanted to scream, to yell at her for being so unsure, for dragging you into her mess. But deep down, you knew she wasn’t trying to hurt you.

“I can’t keep being your second choice,” you said quietly.

“You’re not,” she insisted, desperation creeping into her voice. “You’re not my second choice, Y/N. You’re the one I want to be with. But I need to make peace with my past before I can give you everything you deserve.”

You stared at her, searching her eyes for some semblance of truth. And you found it. But truth wasn’t enough.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Just… don’t shut me out completely, okay?”

You didn’t respond, turning away and walking toward the door.

The night air hit you again, colder than before, but this time, it felt a little less suffocating. You weren’t sure what the future held, but for now, you were taking things one step at a time.

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The Undercity streets stretched endlessly ahead as you walked, each step a blend of clarity and confusion. The conversation with Vi replayed in your mind like a broken record, her words mingling with your own until you weren’t sure which stung more: the truth she’d spoken or the doubts it left behind.

You didn’t head back to your apartment. The thought of sitting in that small, suffocating space filled with memories of Vi felt unbearable. Instead, you wandered aimlessly, letting the dim glow of neon signs and the distant hum of machinery guide your path.

Eventually, you found yourself on a quiet overlook, a spot you’d discovered years ago when you first moved to the Undercity. From here, you could see the faint glimmer of Piltover far above, its pristine towers a stark contrast to the grime and chaos below. You hated how beautiful it looked, how untouchable.

You sat on the edge of the overlook, letting your legs dangle over the side. The cool metal beneath you was comforting, grounding in a way that your thoughts weren’t.

For a long time, you stayed there, the world around you fading into background noise. You tried to piece together what you were feeling—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but none of it settled into something coherent. All you knew was that Vi’s words had left a hole in your chest that no amount of reasoning could fill.

“Lost in thought?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see a familiar figure stepping out of the shadows. Sevika. Her imposing frame and sharp eyes were impossible to mistake.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, wiping at your eyes hastily.

Sevika leaned against the railing, her metal arm glinting faintly in the dim light. “Saw you wandering. Figured you might need some company.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, turning your gaze back to the horizon.

“Sure you are,” Sevika said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “That’s why you’re out here staring at Piltover like you’re planning to blow it up.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just needed to think.”

“Uh-huh,” Sevika said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Let me guess. Vi?”

You stiffened, and Sevika smirked around the cigarette. “Thought so. What’d she do this time?”

“It’s… complicated,” you admitted, not really in the mood to get into the details.

“Complicated,” Sevika echoed, her tone dry. “That’s one way to describe her. Look, I get it—she’s got that whole ‘fight-for-what’s-right’ charm going for her. But she’s also got a knack for dragging people into her mess.”

“She didn’t drag me into anything,” you snapped, defensive despite yourself.

“Didn’t she?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her tone calm but pointed. “All I’m saying is, maybe it’s time you start asking yourself if you’re doing all the giving while she’s doing all the taking.”

You wanted to argue, but her words struck a nerve.

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Meanwhile, 24 hours later, there was Vi; who was pacing nervously outside a small, unassuming building in the heart of the Undercity. Her hands fidgeted with the straps of her gloves as she tried to calm the storm in her chest. She knew this meeting was a risk, but she couldn’t move forward until she addressed the past.

The door creaked open, and Caitlyn stepped out, her polished Piltover uniform a stark contrast to the grime around her. Her sharp eyes softened when they met Vi’s, and she folded her arms across her chest.

“This is a surprise,” Caitlyn said, her voice neutral but curious. “What made you want to see me Vi?”

“I need to talk,” Vi said, her voice low. “About… everything.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying her. “Everything? That’s vague, even for you.”

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I’ve been a mess lately, okay? And part of that is because of… us. Or what we were. I just need to know where we stand.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed, and she leaned against the doorframe. “Vi, we haven’t been ‘us’ for a long time. I thought we made peace with that.”

“We did,” Vi said quickly. “But I think I’m still holding onto some guilt. Like, I owe you something for everything you did for me back then.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, and she stepped forward, her hand brushing Vi’s arm. “You don’t owe me anything, Vi. I helped you because I cared, and because it was the right thing to do. But you’ve moved on, haven’t you?”

Vi hesitated, her mind flickering to you. “Yeah. I have. But sometimes, it feels like I’m dragging that part of my life into something new, and it’s not fair to her.”

Caitlyn gave a soft smile. “Then let it go. You don’t need my permission to be happy, Vi. And if she makes you happy, focus on that.”

Vi's hands started trembling slightly as she fidgeted with her fingers. Caitlyn looked at her with a curious but cautious expression, waiting for her to speak.

Vi sighed, rubbing her temple as if she were preparing herself for something difficult. “the other night, when we were… when we were together, I said your name, Caitlyn, During—" She stopped herself, wincing.

Caitlyn blinked, a brief flash of shock crossing her features before she masked it with a tight smile. “I didn’t know you still felt that way about me, Vi.”

“I don’t,” Vi said quickly, shaking her head. “I love Y/N. But the guilt’s been messing with my head. I think part of me—part of me has just never really let go of everything that happened between us.” She paused, looking up at Caitlyn, her eyes searching for understanding. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Caitlyn stared at her for a long moment, her lips pressed together. Finally, she spoke, her tone quieter than before. “You shouldn’t carry that around, Vi. You owe it to yourself and to Y/N to be clear about what’s in your heart. You can’t keep dragging the past into the present.”

Vi nodded, guilt washing over her again. “I know. I’m just afraid of losing her. I’m afraid I’ve already done that.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, but there was something resigned in her eyes. “If you love them, then fight for them, Vi. But if there’s any part of you still clinging to me, then be honest. With them. With yourself. You can’t be fair to anyone if you’re still holding onto old ghosts.”

Vi swallowed hard, the weight of Caitlyn’s words settling heavy on her chest.

For a moment, Vi felt a weight lifting. She nodded, grateful for Caitlyn’s understanding. “Thanks, Cait. Really.”

Caitlyn’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer, and then she said, almost too softly, “I miss this. Talking to you like this. Being close to you.”

Vi froze, unsure of how to respond. Before she could say anything, Caitlyn leaned in. It happened so fast—her lips brushing against Vi’s, tentative but purposeful.

You turned the corner at that exact moment.

Your heart stopped.

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There they were, standing close, Caitlyn’s hand on Vi’s arm and—no. No. That couldn’t be what it looked like. But it was. Caitlyn kissed Vi, and though you couldn’t see Vi’s expression, the fact that she didn’t pull away immediately was enough to shatter the fragile hope you’d been clinging to.

Your breath hitched, and you stumbled backward, your chest tightening. You didn’t wait to see what happened next. You didn’t want to see Vi’s reaction. Whatever it was, it would hurt too much.

Turning on your heel, you walked away as fast as you could, the ache in your chest growing with every step.

Back at your apartment, you slammed the door behind you, your hands shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Your mind raced with a storm of emotions—anger, heartbreak, betrayal—but above all, a crushing sense of clarity.

This was it. There was no fixing this. Vi had made her choice, even if she didn’t realize it yet. And you refused to be the afterthought, the consolation prize.

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By the time Vi returned to the apartment, her thoughts were still a tangled mess. The kiss with Caitlyn had been a mistake—a fleeting moment of confusion that left her sick with guilt. All she wanted now was to see you, to explain everything and make it right.

“Y/N?” she called out as she opened the door. The apartment was eerily quiet, and her heart sank.

She found you in the bedroom, your bag open on the bed, half-filled with clothes and essentials. Your back was to her, but your movements were hurried and frantic, as if you were racing against your own emotions.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Vi asked, stepping into the room.

You froze for a moment before turning to face her, your expression a mix of heartbreak and determination. “What does it look like?”

Vi’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Why? What happened?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Why don’t you tell me, Vi? Or should I ask Caitlyn?”

Her confusion was replaced by realization, her face paling. “You… you saw?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and pain. “I saw. I saw her kiss you. And I saw you not pulling away.”

Vi stepped closer, panic evident in her eyes. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t kiss her back. I didn’t want—”

You held up a hand, cutting her off. “I don’t care what you wanted, Vi. What matters is that it happened. And that’s not something I can just ignore.”

She reached out to you, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling insurmountable.

“Y/N, please,” Vi pleaded. “You have to believe me. I love you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay composed. “Why do you keep dragging me into this mess with Caitlyn? I’ve tried so hard to be enough for you, but I’m done trying. I deserve better than this.”

Vi’s shoulders slumped, and she looked at you with an expression that might’ve broken your resolve if you weren’t already so hurt.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she said softly.

“Maybe not,” you replied, your voice steady now. “But it did. And I’m not going to stand here and wait for the next time you ‘didn’t mean’ to hurt me.”

You zipped up your bag and slung it over your shoulder. Vi looked like she wanted to say more, but you didn’t give her the chance.

“I’m done, Vi,” you said, your tone final. “Figure out what you want. But don’t come looking for me until you do.”

With that, you walked past her and out the door, leaving behind the memories and the love that had once felt unshakable. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were putting yourself first. And though it hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do.

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Author's Notes: I absolutely loved writing this.

Please keep supporting Palestine.

If you want to be in my taglist let me know <3.

Taglist: @almooshiii

#vi x reader #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #angst #this makes me want to cry #free palestine #free gaza #free palestine 🇵🇸#from the river to the sea 🇵🇸

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iheartuwu · 1 year ago

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fuck it, i love you — leon s. kennedy

tags. afab!reader, fwb dynamic, (brief) smut wc. 0.5k

Leon Kennedy quietly concludes that he should shut the fuck up for the rest of his life. He knows that whatever happens from this point on, there’s no bullshitting his way through the uncomfortable stench of truth that’s begun to permeate the air.

Through panting breaths and half lidded eyes you watch him tug the covers over your bodies the way he always does when you’re finished, but this time he avoids any additional contact, careful not to touch you as he shifts away from you. His head hits the cold pillow, tight lipped and tense, a hand rising to rub drowsily at his face. No playful remarks on his performance. No peppered kisses. Not even a goodnight. You try not to let this bother you, but it does.

Leon feels you watching him and his skin starts to itch with unease. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, grateful for the darkness that deprives your sights of further examining him. His mind is racing. Fuck off to some foreign country or place in need of his handgun because there’s always somewhere he can be sent. Or, bury himself in paperwork, the endless pile is already waiting for him at the office. Anything to keep him busy and out of reach. Anything that frees you from him. Both solid plans, truly. Emergency escapes have always been his forte. He can already sense you slipping away from him, can already feel himself becoming a distant memory to you. Can already hear the speech you’ll give him, the delicate cadence of your voice infesting his mind in soft echoes. You’re probably reciting it already in your head right now, going over the main points slathered with verbal softeners you’ll apply when you tell him you don’t reciprocate. You were always better with words than he ever was anyway. Nicer, too. At least there’s the comfort in knowing you’ll let him off easy.

Understandably, silence consumes you. It’s strange how quiet the room has become, how a moment ago the sounds of your moans and the skin to skin contact filled the room, the lingering memory still fresh in your mind. How he cupped your cheek with a softness that was so unfamiliar to him it made his fingers tremble as he pressed his lips to your forehead, your warmed skin responsive to every touch. The weight of his body on top of yours, the way his thrusts become less calculated when he’s about to cum and—

“I love you.” He says.

His lips crashing into yours before you could even register the words that hung in the air. His kiss: hot, needy, overwhelming, desperate to cease any space that existed between you, soothed by the whimpers that fled your tongue. Nails raking across his back as you clenched around him.

Cowardice settles in the pit of your stomach and crawls its way to barricade your throat. You swallow it away, shift yourself under the covers to nestle against him, feel his tense muscles flare when your hand plants onto his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pump beneath your palm, can hear the intake of his breath as you draw closer to rest your head on his shoulder. You can hardly hear yourself speak when you do.

“I love you too, Leon.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy drabble

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dailynnt · 2 months ago

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FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 25/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Hello everyone. This part turned out to be so long, I hope you enjoy reading it. Please leave your feedback, it's so important for me to know 🥹🙏🏻 I don't know if I'll have time to write something else before the end of the year, but if anything, there will be a continuation in the new year for sure. Thank you all so much for loving my story 😭 Enjoy ❤️‍🔥💜💜

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 16. Read my love.

A cup of tea cooling on the table is the only thing you can look at. You feel Jungkook's eyes on you all the time. You are nervous. Your palms are sweaty and cold. You hear your mom bombarding Jungkook with compliments and questions. She doesn't notice that you still haven't said anything to Jungkook other than a brief 'hello'.

Jungkook shyly answers all the questions. He's also happy to see omony Hyewon. But the main reason he's here is because of you, so he keeps looking at you. He sees how you avoid his gaze. He's looking at you when omonny Hyewon is distracted by a phone call from your father. She apologizes and moves away from the couch where you are sitting.

You feel even more tense. You look up. Jungkook is smiling at you and it's not an apologetic smile. It's his typical Jungkook smile, playful and provocative. You feel your cheeks flush red. Jungkook makes you feel uncomfortable. He have the confidence after all he's done to come to your house, sit and look at you with such a smile?

"How are you, baby?" - He finally breaks the silence between you. You bite your lip and lower your eyes, returning them to your cup of tea. Jungkook is attracted to this gesture and wants to touch his favorite lips.

"Fine." - You say and finally take a sip of tea to hide your embarrassment. It seems too obvious because your hands are shaking.

"I missed you." - Jungkook suddenly says. You can hear his hushed voice, filled with sadness and tenderness. His words penetrate your heart like a warm ray on a cold day. Your breathing becomes heavier, and your heart begins to pound furiously in your chest, almost painfully. The feeling is like hundreds of butterflies rising in your stomach.

Again, he was making you feel this way. You feel warm in your chest, but at the same time two parts of you are fighting: one part wants to push him away because it knows his world is too complicated and dangerous, and the other part wants to throw itself into his arms and stay there forever.

You lifted your eyes. You missed him too. You've missed him more than ever, but now it feels like he's off limits to you. It feels like you will never be able to be with him again. You don't know why, but instead of telling him that you missed him too, you ask him something else.

"Why did you come here?" - Your voice sounds cold. You fidget nervously on the couch. You don't want to be so cold, but you can't seem to do it any other way.

"I came to see you." - Jungkook answers as if it were obvious. "Also, it's okay to explain everything to you." - You hide your face behind your cup of tea again. You don't say anything because your mom approaches you. She smiles broadly, but when she sees that you are silent and you don't even look at Jungkook, she realizes that something is wrong.

"You're not talking much. It seems like you had a fight." - Your mom speculated.

"Yes, we did omony." - Jungkook admits. He's been calling your mom "omony" since he was a kid. She was his second mom because Jungkook spent a lot of time at your house. When you were kids, your mom was your babysitter. Jungkook's parents were busy at work, so Jungkook was with you every day until almost high school. In high school, he started coming only to visit. But he still has the habit of calling your mom "omony". "Y/N is offended by me." - You look at him. Why is he saying this to your mom?

"Daughter, what's wrong? Why are you mad at Jungkook?" - Mom asked with concern. You silently look at Jungkook with an annoyed look. He told you to come up with an answer. "I noticed right away that you didn't hug your best friend."

"It's because of my job. We celebrated Christmas together, you know. I had to leave Y/N on Christmas Eve." - Jungkook lies. Your eyebrows fly up. What a lie! The to mention the mafia and his kiss with ex, forgot?

"Honey, he probably couldn't do it any other way. Why are you so offended? But Jungkook-ah, boy, you should get more rest. Your mom recently complained to me that she rarely sees you. She must have been so happy that you came." - Your mom said. Jungkook smiled with a shadow of guilt.

"Actually, I haven't been home yet. I came straight to your place after arriving in Suwon." - You're shocked. He didn't even stop by his parents, whom he hadn't seen in almost a year? Was he that eager to see you?

"Son, the first thing you should’ve do is go to your parents. They are so missed." - Your mom gasps.

"I'll go right after I talk to Y/N. I still haven't give her a Christmas present yet." - Jungkook says in his defense. Your mom smiles slightly with curiosity.

"Then I think you two need to talk." - Your mom stands up and picks up the cups of tea. Jungkook smiles gratefully. "I want Eunok to see you as soon as possible. But wouldn't you like to stay for dinner? I'm did pickled crabs. It was your favorite dish I used to cook for you." - Your mother offers gently. You want to protest. Jungkook doesn't have to stay for dinner to eat your mom's pickled crabs. She can give him some to go. Jungkook answers before you do.

"Omony, really? You did pickled crabs? I'm so happy! I’m in time came to visit you." - Jungkook is overjoyed. "I am very happy to stay. I'm here for a few days, so my mom will have time to spend time with me." - Your mom is happy too. She is already excited to start cooking dinner.

"Mom, I promised you I would help you make dinner...." - You get up from the couch and walk towards your mom. She gently stops you.

"Honey, you need to talk to Jungkook. I'll start cooking by myself. When you're done, you can join me." - Your mom says and leaves you two alone.

You look after your mom, who has already gone to the kitchen. You hear Jungkook coming up behind you. He doesn't approaches to closer. You would like him to do this, but he respects your space.

"Can we go to your room? I don't think we can talk properly here." - Jungkook suggests. You think it's a good idea. Without answering, you walk towards the stairs.

"Mom, we'll be in my room." - You warn your mom and hear her shout "okay".

You enter the room first, leaving the door open for Jungkook to follow. Once inside, he closes the door behind him. He stands at the door looking at your room.

It hasn't changed and looks exactly the same as the last time he saw it. A small bed in the middle of the room. A bedside table next to it and your desk. The shelves around the desk are filled with sports books, comics, and sports awards. Several of them belong to Jungkook. He gave you cups, secretly dedicate these victories to you. Apart from his mom, you were his most ardent fan. To the right of the door is a wardrobe and large mirror in height. At window are delicate cream curtains. The room is cozy and you'd never say that a girl lived here.

There is a laptop on the bed, which you are already putting on the table. Jungkook walks over to your bed and sits down. You look at your friend carefully while remaining near table.

"Want to sit next to me?" - Jungkook asks, patting the bed next to him. He wants you to come closer.

"I'll stand. I've been lying on the bed all day." - You say calmly. Jungkook shakes his head and looks around your room in silence. You wait for him to speak. A light laugh leaves his lips.

"When we were at school, I used to come to this place so often. I feel like this is my room. The smell reminds me of those days." - Jungkook says. Your heart aches, that time was the best time of your life. Jungkook was there with all the time and was not involved in crime. Only sports, friendship, and precious memories. "Do you remember the time you hid me drunk from your parents? That morning I was running away through the window. Gosh, my mom gave me such a beating for not spending the night at home."

You remember that incident very well. Something happened between you that night that Jungkook doesn't remember because of the amount of alcohol he drank. It seems like that night you realized that you liked him.

Jungkook got drunk at a party the night before his graduation. You remember when a classmate of his called you and asked you to take Jungkook out of the house drunk because he was almost unconscious. It was around 2 a.m. You were reading comics and so you were awake. You sneaked out of the house and followed Jungkook.

At first, the plan was to take him home. But Jungkook turned out to be having, he could barely stand on his feet, and your house was closer to yours, so you decided to take him to yours. You had to take him quietly to your room so that your parents wouldn't wake up, and then send him home in the morning.

You remember texting Doohoon, hoping that he would answer and come to the rescue to take Jungkook home, but he didn't answer. You knew they were supposed to be together. Did Doohoon leave early because he had something to do?

Jungkook clung tightly to your body. It was spring, but the night was cold. But your friend was wearing only a T-shirt, a warm sweatshirt with a zipper, and cargo pants.

His body heat kept you warm. But the longer you walked, you sweated as you struggled to pull your muscular friend. He was bigger and taller than you. Your hardened body tired quickly because Jungkook was relaxed and leaning on you.

His arm was around your neck. His palm was at a dangerous distance from your chest. You took his hand so that he wouldn't accidentally touch them. He leaned his head against the crook of your neck. His hot breath burned the skin of your neck. Jungkook smelled of alcohol and perfume.

It wasn't far to your home, but the distance seemed too long. You stopped to catch your breath. Just a couple of minutes to regain your strength and cover the last meters to your house. When you stopped, you felt Jungkook move his head, which was resting on your shoulder. He buried his head in your hair and touched your warm skin with his nose. You instantly got goosebumps.

"Baby, you smell so good." - Jungkook murmured into your neck. You froze. He had never been this close before. You panicked.

"Shut up, Jeon. I swear I'm going to kill you first thing in the morning." - You snapped, desperately ignoring the way Jungkook's nose was touching your neck. He suddenly deviated and stood in front of you, hugging you. He was holding onto your waist and so wobbling. You looked at your friend angrily with raised eyebrows.

Jungkook looked at you with drunken, half-open eyes that glittered. He looked at your face from the height of his height for a few seconds, and then awkwardly put his hand on your jaw. He grabbed you a little painfully, squeezing your hair. You clicked your tongue nervously.

"Damn it, what are you doing?" - You said, unhappy.

"What do they see in you?" - He suddenly says. You're confused, you don't understand what he's talking about. "Let's see: nice eyes, small face, and plump lips." - He says, describing your face. He touches your lips with his finger. Your heart is beating like crazy. You look at your friend and feel embarrassed. Jungkook looks up at your hair and examines it. "Your hair is an interesting color, maybe that's why they find you attractive?" - He asks no one in particular. You don't understand who he's talking about.

"Who are you talking about? And why did you decide that now is the time to discuss my appearance? Let's go home, it's hard for me to hold you!" - You protested, throwing his hands off your face. But the thought of someone liking you made you happy. His arms fell around your waist and with a quick movement, he pushed you against his body. A soft cry escaped your throat. Jungkook was so close that you forgot how to breathe. He was looking at your lips, and you were dizzy. You were screaming in your head, what was happening?

"Do you think they can take you away from me? I don't think so. You're my friend and they won't touch you with their fucking fingers." - You could smell the alcohol as Jungkook spoke almost to your lips. You listened dumbfounded to what he was saying. Something inexplicable clogged your chest. Emotions you had never felt before. A little excitement mixed with admiration. What is he saying? He has no right to speak so possessively. If someone likes you, he shouldn't get in the way.

"Jungkook, don't be silly!" - You say, trying to distance yourself from your friend. You shouldn't be standing in the middle of the road at 2 in the morning like that. Jungkook squeezed you tighter, not letting you move away at all. You expected him to be much stronger than you. You thought that if he didn't let go, you would be forced to hit him.

"Would you like to kiss me?" - Jungkook suddenly asks. He caught you off guard once again. Your eyes got big and you forgot to breathe again. You asked yourself if you really wanted to do this. You were afraid that, looking at your best friend now, you did want it. He was so handsome, even though he had been drinking. His lips were a magnet. But he's your friend! It's Jungkook! He's probably just messing with you. You recovered and covered his face with your hand, pulling him away.

"Jeon, I'm going to kick you in your bells. You're crazy! I would never want to kiss you. You're my friend. Oh no you're just an asshole I'm friends with." - You said rudely, holding his face with your hand. He laughed into your hand. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Why does this idiot have to come out on you like this?

Jungkook loosened his grip on your waist and you instantly pulled away from him.

"Gosh, I think I'm going to throw up." - Jungkook said in a tortured voice when you let go of him. You were scared. Jungkook swayed and went to the bushes and you heard him vomit. You almost threw up yourself. You waited for him to finish.

Jungkook straightened up and turned to you. He smiled and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. You grimaced. God, why did this happen with you?

Walking into the house with Jungkook, who was drunk wasted, was a challenge. He was unsteady on his feet and telling loud. You took him to your room and sat him down on the bed. You locked the door and turned to Jungkook. His eyes were almost closed. But he had a stupid smile on his face. You walked over to him in frustration and kicked him. He cried out.

"For what?" - He hissed, folding in half and rubbing his leg where you kicked him.

"For being a pain in the ass." - You said harshly. You had to do it because he had given you so much trouble.

"I haven't been in your ass yet." - Your friend says, and you gasp at the insinuation.

"Shut your dirty mouth, idiot!" - You growl. "Take off your shirt, I'm going to wash it." - Jungkook straightens up and slowly tries to take it off. But he fails. Losing patience, you come over and help him take off his shirt. You try not to look at Jungkook, who is just staring at you. After taking off his shirt, you throw it over your arm.

"Come with me to the bathroom. I'll give you a toothbrush and toothpaste, brush your teeth and wash your bad mouth. If I hear a single squeak from you, I'll drown you in the tub." - You threaten. Jungkook barely gets out of bed and laughs cheekily.

"Will you help me take a shower?" - He asks leaning on you again.

"Do you want to die?" - You are angry, but Jungkook just laughs.

You make your way to the bathroom as quietly as you can. You pushed Jungkook and close the door. You lead him to the sink and hand him a new toothbrush and toothpaste. While he brushes his teeth, you throw his sweatshirt into the washing machine and set it on the fast cycle. It should be washed in 15 minutes.

Jungkook brushed his teeth while trying to stand on his feet. When he was done, he took off his T-shirt. When you saw this, you gave a soft yelp of surprise. Jungkook smiled slyly.

"I'm going to take a shower." - He said loudly, as it seemed to you. At that moment, you heard footsteps in the hallway and your heart sank. You ran to Jungkook and put your hand over his mouth. You turned on the water and told him to be quiet. You stood there for who knows how long. You turned off the water to hear if the footsteps had stopped. There seemed to be silence. Suddenly there was a light knock on the door.

"Daughter, why are you in the bathroom at this hour?" - You heard your mother's voice through the door. Your blood ran cold in your veins. Holly shit, if she found out that Jungkook was standing there shirtless and drunk in your bathroom at almost 3 a.m., you would be in trouble. Jungkook didn't seem to care. He didn't react in any way.

"Oh, mom..." - You say loudly. "I was reading comics. I forgot to take a bath. I'll take a quick wash and go to bed." - You lied.

"Okay, but don't stay up so late anymore. You'll look like a ghost during the day." - Your mother complained. "Good night." - She said.

"Good night, mom." - You answered and heard her leave. After a while you heard her go into the bedroom. You let go of Jungkook and walked away from him.

"Hurry up." - You order him. Jungkook takes off his pants and you turn away. How did you even get into a situation like this? "Wait, what are you going to sleep in?" - You suddenly thought. He's not going to sleep on the floor in his boxers, is he? Should you give him your robe? Will he fit in it?

"I can sleep naked." - Jungkook says. You forget that he is naked and turn to him. His almost naked body makes you blush. Because even for the split second you saw his body, you noticed how beautiful it was. You turn away from him.

"You're not sleeping naked in my room, Jeon." - You were angry. "Come on, get cleaned up quickly. I'll get you daddy's clothes."

Jungkook couldn't wash quickly enough. You waited for him for what seemed like forever. You were nervous. Mom might come back again because you were here too long. Jungkook was washing behind the curtain and you were embarrassed that he was naked. You had to make an effort not to think about him like that.

Less than an hour later, you ended up in your room. Fortunately, no one caught you. You left the room again to find your father's clothes to dress Jungkook. His shirt was fortunately washed and you took it to your room to dry.

You gave Jungkook Daddy's shirt and shorts. They fit your friend almost perfectly. At 18 years old, he was the same size as your dad. When Jungkook got changed, he climbed on your bed and made himself comfortable while you found the perfect spot for him on the floor. When you saw him lying on your bed, you were outraged. You walked over to him and pushed your friend to the side.

"Hey, you're not sleeping here!" - You said. Jungkook looked at you in surprise, as if he had just noticed you were in the room.

"Do you really think I'm going to sleep on the floor? No way." - Jungkook said and turned away from you. You started to get mad. What kind of asshole is he? You brought him to your house, drunk, provided everything for his comfort, put your blankets on the floor, and he's so insolent!

"Listen, Jungkook, you're not going to sleep in my bed. You better get on the floor or I'll throw you off!" - You threatened. But in a moment you were on the bed. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and threw you over in one deft movement. You stared at your friend hovering over you in fright. He smiled slyly when he saw you frozen in terror.

"It's no problem if we sleep together on the bed." - Jungkook said still smiling.

"No. We won't!" - You protested.

"I'll sleep here. But if you don't want to sleep next to me, then go to the floor by yourself." - Jungkook said still hovering over you. You blushed. For the second time today, Jungkook was too close to you.

"This is my room and I decide who sleeps where." - You said without giving up. Your friend stared at you for a moment, and then you saw him start to approach. You closed your eyes, afraid of what might happen.

"Make me lie down somewhere else, baby." - Jungkook whispered in your ear. You felt his hot breath leave a mark on your ear. Your heart beat faster. Was this a glitch in the matrix or another reality? How did you end up in this situation with your friend? He always liked to tease you, but like this? What are you supposed to do? Lie still? Or throw him to the floor? You almost choke when he kisses you on the neck. You instantly feel everything inside you shrink. A pleasant sensation is felt in your lower abdomen. You're excited to the max.

"Jungkook!" - You call out, trying to push him away. You try not to think about how much you like it. Jungkook holds you close, leaving you with almost weightless kisses. You start to panic. You can't do this because Jungkook is drunk. You imagine when he wakes up in the morning and sees you next to him. He'll be upset that it's you and not some hottie. And it will also ruin your friendship. Jungkook almost reaches your lips and you put your hand out and he kisses your palm. When he realizes that it's not your lips, he looks at you dumbfounded.

"What are you doing?" - He asks.

"And what are you doing?" - You ask back. Your eyes are frightened.

"I'm trying to kiss you." - Jungkook replies. Your lips are still covered by your hand.

"I'm trying to stop you from kissing me." - You replies too. Jungkook raises his eyebrows.

"Are you serious?" - He asks you in disbelief that you're refusing. "Every girl in town wants to kiss me. Don't you want to?" - You can hear the sincere surprise in his voice.

"Come down to earth, Jeon. Not all the girls want to kiss you." - You say irritated. "First of all, I'm not all of them, and I'm your friend, you dumbass. And secondly, you're drunk, how are you going to look me in the eye in the morning?" - Jungkook touches the inside of his cheek with his tongue and finally lets go of you. He falls onto your pillow and closes his eyes. You think you'd better get out of bed.

You run away and lie down on the blanket you made for Jungkook. You will have to sleep on the floor. You lay down straight and froze as if in anticipation. Did Jungkook really want to kiss you? Oh my God, he kissed your neck. You couldn't believe that this had happened between you.

You laid on the floor, not moving, listening to his breathing and your heartbeat. You lay there for a while and heard Jungkook snoring.

In the morning you were woken up by a knock on the door. You woke up too suddenly.

"Wake up, daughter!" - You heard your father's voice. At that moment you thought you were going to die. The doorknob was coming down. Dad was trying to get into the room. Did didn’t remember if you to close the door yesterday when you came with your father's things for Jungkook? You jumped up from the floor, taking blanket and ran to the bed. It was just a matter of seconds. You throw the blanket you were sleeping on at Jungkook and fly under the covers, almost falling on top of your friend. He wakes up but can't understand what's happening. You cover him with two blankets. The door opens and your dad looks through the door. Shit, you didn't close the door.

"Flower, are you waking up? It's almost 12 o'clock. Mommy is worried you missed breakfast." - Your father says gently. And you just think that if Jungkook moves, or your father comes into the room and walks over to your bed, you're dead.

"Oh yeah, daddy. Just give me 15 minutes to get cleaned up." - You say, pretending to be asleep. You feel Jungkook under the covers, leaning his head against your side. God, he better not move or you'll kill that asshole if your father catches you both.

"Okay." - Your dad says, and wants to leave. But after a moment, he turns his head back. "Were you cold to sleep?" - He asks looking at the two blankets on your bed. They look bulky and this provides the perfect opportunity to hide Jungkook under them.

"Yes." - You say quickly. "It's so cold tonight I decided to sleep under two blankets." - You lie. You hear Jungkook laughing in your direction. You can already imagine yourself strangling him.

"But the temperature was above freezing this night." - Your father says. That's right, it's May. You freeze.

"But you know me, Daddy ! I'm always cold." - You make up an excuse on the fly and mentally beg your father to leave.

"You are?" - He asks. You are nervous again.

"Yes, dad! I'll be there in 15 minutes, give me time to get ready for lunch." - You say, a little irritated. Your dad apologizes and walks away. You immediately run to the door and lock it. You lean your head against the door and breathe a sigh of relief.

Jungkook crawled out from under the covers. His hair stuck out in all directions. His eyes and lips were slightly puffy. He smiled at you cheerfully. You stared at your friend in awe. He looked so attractive in the morning and his appearance made you forget how angry you were with him.

"I thought I was done for." - He said with a laugh. "If your father found me in your bed, I'd be dead, wouldn't I?" - You step away from the door and grab the pillow you were sleeping on. It flies at Jungkook. He covers himself with his hands.

"Jeon, get out of my room! Otherwise, I will be your death!" - You screamed, but quietly so your parents wouldn't hear you. You were so angry, he had caused you so much trouble.

He crawled out of bed to get away from you.

"How can I go? Your parents are downstairs." - Jungkook complained.

"I don't care. Teleport out. Climb out the window. Anything, but get out now." - You shouted finally, throwing a pillow at him. Jungkook skillfully caught it. You sat down on the bed and breathed heavily. God, you were so stressed. Jungkook carefully walked over to the bed and put the pillow down. You glared at him angrily, and he flinched, afraid of your gaze.

"I need to change my clothes." - He said carefully. You got up and went to get his things. They flew at Jungkook just like your pillow. He grabbed them and smiled.

You went to the closet and pulled out your terrycloth robe. Wrapping yourself in it, you watched Jungkook get dressed. You didn't admire his perfect body, just pierced him with an angry look. He did it quickly. Jungkook tried to style his hair, which was sticking out in different directions.

"How did I end up here?" - He suddenly asks. Your eyebrows fly up. Does he not remember anything?

"What do you mean?" - You snap back. "I brought you here because you were drunk. Don't you remember?"

"No. My head is so pounding." - Jungkook scrunches his face in pain, putting his hand to his head. "The last thing I remember is losing a bet and drinking a glass soju and after followed by a glass of beer." - You stared at Jungkook. What a rare douchebag!

"I knew you were out of your mind, but by how much..." - You complain. Jungkook is indignant.

"Oh, come on. It was a party. Everyone drinks there, you know..." - He says as if it's a good argument. You shake your head in disapproval, and walk over to him, pushing him toward the window to get out. Jungkook doesn't resist. It's a good thing he's climbed through your window many times and knows how to get down safely. He freezes at the window. You let him go.

"Baby. I at least not hit on you?" - Your friend is worried. You can see the anxiety in his eyes.

"What if you did, what will you do?" - You ask with excitement. You wonder how he'll get out of it, because he did hit on you. The memory of his lips on your neck makes you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"What do you mean? I couldn't be!" - Jungkook immediately denies. You raise your eyebrows. Of course he could! He did exactly that this night.

"Why couldn't you? Am I so ugly that you don't find me attractive even when you drunk?" - You say. Jungkook laughs, your sarcasm is his favorite thing.

"Yeah and you're not my type." - Jungkook replies, his voice serious. "I would never hit on you. Especially since you're my best friend. It's like picking on your sister." - You froze at his words. You're not his type? Of course I'm not. But what about that he say about your appearance? What a bustard!

"You're an idiot! You told me this night that I was beautiful and that many people liked me!" - You shouted nervously. But you kept silent about the fact that he said he wouldn't give you to anyone.

"Did I say that?" - Jungkook is genuinely surprised. "I guess I drank too much last night." - For these words, his side immediately suffers from your fist. Jungkook laughs and shuts his eyes.

"Get out of my sight, you jerk, and I don't want to see you for a week." - You say, shoving Jungkook out the window.

"How can you live without me for a week, baby? I'm your air breathe." - Jungkook teases you. You are almost trembling with anger.

"God knows I wanted to keep you alive, but your tongue is your enemy!" - You threaten and run to get the dumbbell that was lying in your room. When you get back to the window, Jungkook has already reached the ground and is running away with a cheerful smile. He waves goodbye, and you give him the middle finger.

You lie down on the bed face down and smell the subtle scent of Jungkook's perfume. You feel a tremor inside. What happened between you tonight has made you look at Jungkook differently. Now the mere sight of him makes you feel admiring and elated. What did he do with you?

This memory will remain in your mind forever. Because it was after that night that everything between you changed. Could you have imagined then that you would have sex with Jungkook? And that it would give you immense pleasure? Could you have imagined that you could feel some crashing or even fall in love with him and you wouldn't know what to do with it?

Jungkook smiles a sweet smile, probably remembering the morning you beat him. But you are hurt by the sight of him. Because he's not the Jungkook you knew anymore.

"You wanted to talk." - You remind your friend why you're in your room, and it's not because of happy memories from your youth.

"Yes." - Jungkook confirms and his cheerful, beautiful smile is gone. He runs his eyes over your face and finally says. "She did it on purpose. I didn't want to kiss her." - You look at Jungkook and hear your pulse pounding in your ears. So he decide to start with this?

"You didn't mean to, but you kissed." - You say.

"I didn't kiss her back. That hooker did it at Dohoon's request." - Jungkook says seriously.

"Meaning?" - You don't understand.

"That moron brought her to Japan specifically to distract me from you while he told you what I've become. He found out that we went to Japan to get the devices he stole, so he followed us. He's a fucking bone in my throat." - You realize that the trip to Japan was a cover for a job. You suspected it right away.

You ask Jungkook what the devices are, and he tells you.

Jungkook was supposed to guard the transportation of expensive medicines devices. Hoseok entrusted him with this job because he was so busy. But Doohoon, who had recently arrived in Korea, decided to remembering to Jungkook about himself.

He forged documents and substituted spoiled devices. Because of this, his company had problems with the customer. Jungkook said that he tried to resolve the issue so that Namjoon would not find out about the lost deal. Jungkook even mentioned the amount of the deal, which left you speechless. He said that Doohoon went straight to the hard methods. If Namjoon found out about the devices, your friend would be charged with another $50 million debt.

Jungkook also told how he got working on Namjoon. That the super fight was invented by Doohoon and offered Namjoon to make a lot of money on Jungkook. He say that he fought so often because they paid a lot of money for him, and that Doohoon only made a couple of appearances to make it look like he were fighting too.

In fact, Dohun lost a lot of money in casinos and betting in Namjoon’s club. A lot of money. And to pay off his debt, he brought Jungkook to Namjoon to make a lot of money. And everything was working until that idiot invited their classmate (who turned out to be the son of a policeman who hunted on Namjoon) to join them and fight in illegal fights. The policeman's son got all the important information. He even came with them to the club before the "super fight". That's how the police showed up that night.

Namjoon lost a lot of money and made Jungkook look bad. Doohoon did his best to make it happen. To save his own ass, he put the blame on Jungkook, saying that he told their classmate, even though he knew that he was the son of a policeman.

Jungkook said that he tried to escape from Namjoon three times. But the last time he was caught, Jungkook was severely beaten. They threatened that they would kill his parents and brother, and then finally kill him. He was told that either he brings all the money and is free (it was obvious that this option would not work, because Jungkook did not have that kind of money), or he works for Namjoon. He fulfills all his orders, working off his debt, and then he is free. Otherwise, if he doesn't agree to any of these conditions, his family and himself will suffer.

You listened to all this and just couldn't believe it. Doohoon is such a dickhead. Why did he do this to Jungkook? The three of you had such a great friendship. There had to be some reason for Doohoon to hate Jungkook so much, and it definitely wasn't simple envy. It had to be something significant, something that made your former friend go crazy.

Jungkook must have known the reason for this hatred. It was you. Right from the start. Because Doohoon had liked you since you started hanging out together, and Jungkook was greedy for you. Doohoon told Jungkook that he liked you, and then something clicked in Jungkook. He didn't want the two of you to start dating, which is probably why Jungkook started spending a lot of time with you then. He really hardly ever left you and Doohoon alone. Later on, when his classmate and the guys at the sports school started paying attention to you, Jungkook became jealous. But how could he confess to you? You were friends and you never fell for Jungkook's flirtations.

Later, when Doohoon started to show you a lot of attention, Jungkook got drunk and told his friend that he wanted to fuck you. He didn't say it on purpose, but he was just releasing his true desires under the influence of alcohol. That's when everything started to fall apart.

You started to cry, you imagined what Jungkook had to go through. And you were sure that these stories were the tip of the iceberg.

It hurt Jungkook to see you crying. He came to you and hugged you. You felt awe when his scent hit your nose. You leaned your cheek against his chest and cried hard. You realized that you had missed his closeness so much. Only in that embrace did you feel alive. Back at the hotel, when you saw him covered in blood, you were scared and afraid. But now, being in Jungkook's arms, you mentally scolded yourself. How could you think that he could hurt you?

You hugged him tightly, clutching his sweatshirt in your fists. Jungkook buried his head in your shoulder. He can finally touch you. To be close to you. When he arrived today and saw you looking at him standing by the stairs. He realized that he would never let you go again.

Jungkook picked you up and carried you to the bed. He sat down, putting you on his lap, listening patiently as you cried. When you had cried out all the regret that had accumulated inside you, you finally stopped crying.

"Are you okay, baby?" - Jungkook whispered. He was so close to your face that you could feel his breath on your cheek. He touched your cheek lightly with his lips.

"I’m terrible." - You admitted. Jungkook hummed.

"That's why I didn't tell you anything." - He complained softly. "I knew you'd cry. But I promised you I would only tell you the truth..." - He says, and your eyes fill with hot tears again. That's how he promised to tell the truth in day before the Christmas party. Jungkook wipes your tears away with his thumb as he looks at you. His heart is breaking, he doesn't want you to cry for him.

"Jungkook, you didn't kill anyone, did you?" - You suddenly ask, calming down a bit. This question was probably the one that worried you the most.

You met Jungkook's big eyes, which were darting between yours. It scared you that he hadn't said anything for so long. Could he have done something like that?

"No." - He finally said. You were relieved. "I didn't kill people. But the methods I use are not the most humane." - Jungkook admitted.

"What are your duties?" - You ask, even though you already know. Your Sunbaenim helped you find out. Jungkook hesitates. He doesn't think you should know.

"Baby, I don't want to tell you this. These are dangerous things. It's better if you don't know." - Your friend says. You sit on his lap and feel the warmth of his body. You feel so good around Jungkook. Maybe he's right. Besides you know something. Eliminating unnecessary people isn't necessarily murder, is it? You want to ask, but you can't expose yourself.

"Okay." - You agree quietly. "But what about everyone else? All your friends you introduced me to, they all work for Namjoon?"

"Yes. We all work for him." - Jungkook confirms.

"Do you trust them?" - You ask. Jungkook tries to understand what your question means.

"Yes, I trust them. Why do you ask?"

"They all know me. It scares me a little bit." - Jungkook stares at you.

"You don't have to be afraid of them, baby. I know these guys very well. They won't lay a finger on you because they know they're will dealing with me." - He sounded serious. You smiled. Everyone was afraid to deal with Jungkook since high school. But now it's a whole another level.

"What about Namjoon?" - You ask. Jungkook fixes the hair that's falling over your face.

"You are completely my responsibility. And if Namjoon tries to do anything to you, he'll have to deal with me, too." - You smile in pain. He is so confident. What you'd expect from Jungkook. You stare at each other and Jungkook breaks first.

He gently takes your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. When your lips touch, you are cold. His lips are so desirable. You return the kiss with insistence. Jungkook plunges his tongue into your mouth. You intertwine your tongue with his and deepen the kiss. Jungkook strokes your back as if to calm you down. He kisses you as if to say: "Here I am, and I won't leave you anymore."

Your eager kiss is interrupted by a knock on the door. You quickly jump off Jungkook's lap and run back to the window. Your mom appears in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, daughter..." - Your mom apologizes. She sees that you are distracted. But you need to turn to your mother to know the reason for her coming. When you return, your mother sees your teary eyes, but she skillfully hides her embarrassment.

"It's okay, mom, we're done now. I'll help you with dinner..." - You are about to leave. Jungkook gets up to go with you, but your mom stops you both.

"I don't need any help. I have everything almost ready. I put the yukkejang on to cook, because it will be perfect for tonight's frosty evening. But I just got a call from Ajuma Jihee, asking me to help her finish the soybean paste. I gave her the recipe and I think she did something wrong." - Says your mom. "I'm just going to go out for 40 minutes, and when I come back, the yukkejang will be ready. Daughter, just stir it from time to time so that it cooks well. Dad will be back soon, so don't be sad." - Your mom left, closing the door.

You looked at Jungkook, who was standing behind you. You smiled weakly, you almost got caught. You're about to go downstairs to watch the soup when Jungkook grabs your arm. He pulls you toward him, his arms around your waist. You stare at your friend in awe.

"Forty whole minutes..." - He says, leaning down and capturing your lips. You mumble, resisting just a little, but otherwise giving in to his skillful lips. You move your lips against his and get a little nervous. What if mom comes in again? But when Jungkook kisses you and leads you to the bed, you realize what he meant earlier. You protest again by mooing into Jungkook's mouth. He stops when your feet hit the bed.

"Kook, we can't have sex in my room. Mom hasn't left yet, and Dad should be home soon..." - You warn him. In a moment, you find yourself on your back, pressed against the mattress by your friend. He smiles slyly and doesn't seem to care that your mom is somewhere nearby. You feel your heart beating against your chest. It's like an electric charge is running through your body. You forget about caution when Jungkook starts kissing you. He grabs your jaw with his hand, squeezing it a little harder, and shoves his tongue deep into your mouth. He kisses you so passionately that the heat rushes through you like lightning.

Your brain is working at high speed, and your body is freezing in anticipation. It's both impatience and sweet intrigue at the same time.

"Shall we finish what we started in this room?" - Jungkook asks as he pulls away from your lips, his hand already hidden under your sweater. He slides his hand under your bra and squeezes your breast. You hold back a moan, biting your lip.

"What do you mean?" - Instead of answering, you ask your own question, breathing heavily.

"What we started the night before my graduation." - Jungkook answers. You round your eyes in shock. Is he talking about the night he almost kissed you for the first time?

"You didn't remember anything the next morning!" - You remind him indignantly. Jungkook smiles seductively. He lifts up your orange warm sweatshirt, lowers your bra, and kisses your nipple. You feel Jungkook's wet tongue on your nipple and it makes you wet your underwear already. He grabbed your breast with his hand, squeezing it with a little force and sucking on the burgundy bud. He plays with the most sensitive part with his tongue and it makes you want to more.

"It's time to confess to you." - Jungkook says when he stops kissing your breasts. Your breathing is labored because of your excitement. You feel Jungkook pressing his half-erect cock against your pussy. It's not hard enough yet. But it won't be for long. "I was going to fuck you then." - He says with a sly smile on his lips, and you just can't believe it.

"What?" - You ask again. He couldn't want to fuck you when you were 17 years old.

"Yeah, baby, we could have been together a long time ago. But I still win, your virginity is mine." - He says and takes off your sweater. He also frees you from your bra with his skillful hands.

"Really? You've been dreaming of fucking me for so long?" - You ask with irony. Although you are just shocked that your friend has been trying to get you into bed for so long.

"Absolutely. But you were so scared at the time, you didn't even let me kiss you. I am one hundred percent sure that if you had let me kiss you, you would have become a woman that night." - Jungkook assures you. He kisses you eagerly, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You answer him with the same greed, as if you were living only for this moment. This kiss ignited a fire between you, your mutual need for each other was too obvious.

Your body silently begged for more, and more, and more as he moved from your lips to your neck. He kissed millimeter by millimeter, as if he were trying to cover every part of your tender skin. You moaned softly, which fueled Jungkook's arousal. He rubbed his cock against you, which became harder with each movement. He wants to fuck you, so you should hurry up while you're the only two at home.

Jungkook pulls himself off your neck and hangs over you. Your faces are separated by a quality of centimeters. You open your eyes and see Jungkook's seductive smile. Your cheeks burn from your closeness.

"Do you want me to fuck you now, or shall we have dinner and I'll take you to the park and fuck you in the car?" - Jungkook gives you a choice. The fact that he's going to fuck you tonight is not even up for discussion. You can only choose the place.

You feel his cock presses into your pussy. Your underwear is soaked with moisture. And you like the position you're in. You can wait for the evening. It's risky to have sex in your room, knowing that your parents could come back at any time. But somehow this makes you even more needy.

"Can you wait after dinner time?" - You ask Jungkook to get his opinion. You don't want him to think that you want him that badly. So you ask him if he can wait.

"Fuck, no. I want to fuck you right now." - You smile at the note of intolerance in his voice.

"Then we better hurry, darling." - You say, agreeing.

"I don't want to hurry. I want to enjoy you." - Jungkook confesses.

"But we really don't have much time." - You say with desperation. Jungkook smiles at you and gets out of bed. You notice his hard cock resting against his fly. You lift up on your elbows to follow his actions and see Jungkook walk to the door and lock it. On his way to you, he takes off his clothes, throwing them somewhere on the floor.

He comes to the bed and you admire his perfect body. His pumped-up chest and biceps move in time with his hands undoing the waistband of his pants. He looks too sexy. He looks at you with a lustful gaze. Jungkook takes off his pants while studying your face, his eyes moving down to your bare tits and finally settling on your crotch.

Jungkook doesn't like that you're still wearing your pants. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and pulls you to the edge of the bed with a sharp movement. A scream sticks in your throat. Jungkook slowly pulls off your pants. Only your underwear remains. After a moment, Jungkook grabs the edge of the cotton fabric and pulls it down. There is something so intimate about this action. That moment when he undresses you makes you feel adoration for him. You love it when he takes off your clothes with his own hands. You like it when he is in complete control of you. You want to worship him like a king who owns the whole world.

Jungkook sees your naked body and goes a little crazy. He doesn't understand why every time you have sex, his desire to have you grows stronger, and now he almost on the verge of obsession.

Jungkook spreads your legs and sighs in anticipation. He's finally going to taste your sweet pussy. And then he's going to fuck it so well that you'll remember it for a long time.

He gets down on his knees and places his face right in front of your wet cunt. He can hear you breathing heavily. Jungkook takes your ass with his hands to have the best angle. He kisses your inner thigh and you just tremble. His lips are beautiful on any part of your body. He kisses your thighs slowly, even though your wet cunt, which is in his field of vision, is terribly attractive to him.

You clutch the blanket in your hands. The pain in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable, and you desperately need Jungkook's touch. Jungkook kisses your other thigh, moving closer to your most desired spot.

When his tongue finally touches your clit, an uncontrollable moan escapes your lips. Jungkook licks your clit three times with his tongue, pressing it pleasantly. Your legs tremble with pleasure.

"It's sweet." - He says directly into your cunt, and then bursts in with his lips. His tongue sucks on your clit and you just go crazy with pleasure. You moan loudly, trying to ease the sweet torture of Jungkook's tongue. Your back arches to relieve your condition. When he pushes his tongue into your passage, you go crazy. He pushes it in and out, and his finger caresses your clit. You can feel your orgasm coming.

"Kook..." - You whisper to warn him, but he doesn't let go. He fucks your hole with his tongue, while simultaneously tormenting you with his fingers. After a moment, he sticks his tongue out and presses his lips to your clit. He kisses you gently a few times and then sucks you as hard as he can. The blanket is clenched in your fists so tightly that your fingers go numb. A moment later, you come on Jungkook's tongue. A pleasant pleasure spreads through your body.

Jungkook pulls away from your cunt, his lips and chin glistening with your cum. Jungkook smiles. He gets to his feet. He can't get enough of your excited face.

You open your eyes and stare at Jungkook in awe. He really a king, or no, he is a Greek god created to give pleasure. Your lips stretch into a blissful smile.

"I don't think I can ever get enough of this sweet pussy." - Jungkook says as he takes off his boxers. His cock is excited. It jumps up, bumping against his thighs as your friend frees him from the captivity of his underwear. Semen drips from the tip, and you think you want to taste it and feel its salty flavor.

Jungkook holds out his hands to you, and you place your palm in his. He asks you to get out of bed. You get to your feet and they tremble slightly. The sensations from your orgasm are still present between your legs.

Your best friend, or should say lover, sits on the edge of the bed. He invites you to sit on top and ride his cock. You don't hesitate for a second to get on top.

When your bodies touch, you feel how hot Jungkook is. You sit on his lap, holding onto his back. He gently supports you by the waist. He puts two fingers in your passage to stretch you. You close your eyes against the pleasant sensation of his fingers in your middle, and you hear him smile. You seem to get even wetter as you wait for the grand prize.

"My good girl. So wet for me. That tight pussy will swallow my cock perfectly." - You moan and smile at Jungkook's praise. You open your eyes and see your friend's handsome face. His eyes shine with a devilish light, and his seductive smile makes you more excited than ever, even though there's no to where. He licks your lips, plunging his long, knotted fingers deep into you. "Come on, baby, have a good ride." - Jungkook urges you to sit on his cock.

You rise up on your knees, leaning on the bed and Jungkook puts the head of his cock against your entrance. You lower yourself carefully. He holds your ass, squeezing your meat. When you're completely down on Jungkook's cock, you both let out a moan of pleasure.

Your gaze falls to Jungkook's lips and you just drink in them greedily. You kiss Jungkook with your tongue. He laughs into your lips. He is delighted that you are kissing him so passionately. You've finally shown him how much you need him.

You start to move on his lap. Jungkook fills you to the brim with his cock. He hits you deeply every time you jump on top to create the right friction. Jungkook is fucking you so perfectly. You moan. Your breasts bounce in time with your movements. Why does it feel so good? Why so passionate? You close your eyes and surrender completely to your needs.

"Fuck!" - Jungkook swears. "Your pussy is the tightest in the world. I just want to fuck it forever." - You scratch the skin on Jungkook's shoulders. You want to be fucked only by Jungkook, too. He squeezes your buttocks to help you move. The sound of your bodies slamming into each other fills the space around you. Your head spins around.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you. He thinks you're so small in his arms. He drives his cock into you sharply and deeply, enjoying the friction of your sensitive parts.

Suddenly he stands up, supporting your body with his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist. You try to figure out what he wants to do. Jungkook carries you to the wall. He leans you against it, and you can see your reflection in the mirror. You see his bare buttocks and your legs wrapped around his waist. He is fucking you, thrusting your swollen pussy.

You look at yourself in the mirror and can't get enough of the sight. You dip your nails into his hair and pull lightly. Jungkook pushes you down to the ground and gets out of you. His cock is glistening with your wetness. He kisses you, grabbing your cheeks again with one hand. His tongue is deep in your mouth. Your lips are swollen from the constant kissing.

"This mirror." - Jungkook says in a low voice that penetrates every cell in your body. "Every time I looked at it, I imagined myself fucking you in front of it." - You are shocked. Your friend is so depraved in his thoughts. Why would he want to fuck you in front of a mirror? "I finally have the opportunity." - Jungkook smiles.

He moves closer to your neck. His lips kiss your skin, giving you goosebumps. You feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. His kiss on your neck excites you to the limit.

"Jungkook..." - You call out to him. You want him to shove his cock back inside you and give you a good fuck. The thought of him doing it in front of the mirror is exciting.

"Yes, baby." - He responds to the call of his name.

"Take me." - You ask. You want Jungkook too much. You need him too much. Jungkook holds you close. You feel his strong body. His chest is pressed firmly against yours. His big hand squeezes your asshole, digging his nails into the skin. His erect cock is pressing against your pubes. It's so sexy between you.

Jungkook leads you to the mirror. He settles down behind you. Jungkook's cock presses against your ass. He kisses your neck and squeezes your breasts with his hands, massaging them. You moan. It feels good. You want more. You close your eyes and Jungkook looks at you in the mirror.

"Open your eyes and look straight ahead." - He orders you somewhat imperiously, while pushing your folds apart. His gentle, unhurried finger movements on your clit ignite your entire insides. You think today he is caressing you such many times, more than usual.

You listen to his orders. You look at yourself naked in the mirror and your excitement grows exponentially. "Now you can see what you look like when I fuck you. This is your best look." - He whispers in your ear.

He plunges his fingers into your passage, smears moisture over your folds. You breathe heavily. Light moans leave your mouth. Jungkook bends you over, and you grab the frame of the mirror that shows you in full view. Jungkook puts his cock against your hole. You feel Jungkook plunging into your passage. As he fills you with his thick cock, you cheer.

Jungkook looks at you through the mirror. Your face looks pained. Your eyebrows are drawn together, your mouth is slightly open and your eyes are closed. You must see what you look like when he gives you divine pleasure.

"I told you to open your eyes." - Jungkook leans down. His body presses against your back. He puts his hand on your throat and lifts you up. He bites your ear and growls. "Don't make me punish you." - You struggle to remember how to breathe. If it weren't for the fluid stroke of his cock, you wouldn't even do it.

Jungkook bends you back, releasing your throat. Now he can get better access to your cunt. He starts to move while fucking you. He holds your hips with his hands to better control the thrusts. Your moans and the sounds of your bodies intertwine in a perfect symphony.

You look at yourself in the mirror and see that you are not yourself. But your appearance in it makes you look depraved. You meet Jungkook's gaze in the mirror. Absolutely dark, focused only on you.

He slows down, driving his cock lazily and deeply into you. You want more friction.

"Kook... faster..." - You ask.

"Faster?" - Jungkook asks you again, continuing to thrust his cock ruthlessly into your vagina.

"Yes..." - You exhale.

"Do you want me to fuck you fast like a whore?" - He asks. You moan blissfully. You want to.

"Yes. Fuck me like a whore." - You ask. Jungkook stops and you hear his heavy breathing. He doesn't mind at all. But for some reason today, Jungkook doesn't want to rush. He wants to enjoy every moment with you.

But he knows that time is short. That’s why he'll try some other time. When you're in your apartment together and he makes you scream all night.

Jungkook picks up the pace. His cock works wonders. Sex with Jungkook is like a short-term nirvana. You moan from his fast hip movements. He pushes his cock into you to the maximum and freezes. Your orgasm is coming.

You look at yourself in the mirror and think that the picture can't get any better. It's like you're watching a fucking porno with Jungkook and yourself in the lead role. He's fucking your hole. One hand caresses your clit. Fuck, it feels so good.

"I'll... I'll come over, Kook." - You say between thrusts.

"No, baby. I'm not done with you." - Jungkook doesn't let you. He pulls out of you almost at the exact moment you're about to cum. You breathe heavily leaning against the mirror. You can feel your cunt burning. You are disappointed because you could have already felt the most desirable sensation, and Jungkook didn't finish the job.

Before you can properly recover, Jungkook wraps his big arm around your waist and leads you back to the bed. You look at his tattoos with a blurry gaze. He lays you down gently on the bed and climbs on top of you, but he doesn't go inside you right away. You breathe heavily in sync.

He looks at your face and can't get enough of it. During sex, you are the most beautiful person in the world. You drive him crazy. You excite his every cell. Jungkook kisses you, gently, almost lovingly. He pulls away when he has enjoyed your lips enough. He lifts up and turns you over onto your stomach. His hands are on your hips and he lifts your ass to enter you.

You are wet. Despite the fact that he ate you, you release so much moisture that your tight cunt swallows his cock with ease. He plunges into your passage and moans. You know you'll never get enough of this. You grab the sheet with your hand. Jungkook pounds you with his cock, finding your G-spot almost instantly. You can't hold back the screams that come out of your throat. Your mind is so blinded by the lust and pleasure of your friend's thick cock that you forget where you are. But you're home, in your room, and your parents should be home soon. You don’t care, you scream because it feels so damn good.

"Come on, baby, now come on my cock." - Jungkook orders you, feeling your walls begin to clench around his cock. His strokes are fast, deep, and almost ruthless. Your orgasm comes just as he asks you to. You lean your head against the mattress, feeling euphoric, high, ecstatic. Why the fuck is sex with Jungkook so good?

Jungkook is chasing his own orgasm. In just a few quick thrusts, he fills you with his hot cum. You feel Jungkook's cock twitching inside you, filling your passage to the brim.

He slowly stops moving. He stops when his cock softens. Jungkook pulls out of you and falls to the spot next to you. You both breathe as if you've been running a long marathon.

You feel a little cum spilling out of your passage. Your sheets are soiled and you'll have to change them.

Jungkook crawls over to you, kisses your lips, and when he pulls away, he smiles cheerfully.

"Did you like it?" - He asks you. "Because I loved it." - Jungkook confesses.

"It was fucking good." - You admit the same thing. Sex with Jungkook is exactly the kind of thing that gives you maximum physical pleasure. Jungkook pecking on your lips. "You came in me again." - You complain gently.

"I have emergency contraception in the car." - Jungkook reassures you. You smile ironically, raising your eyebrows.

"You knew what you were doing." - You say, hinting that he was going to come inside you from the beginning. Jungkook strokes your face with his hand.

"It's crazy, but I want my cum to fill you every time I fuck you. It's like I'm signing you by myself." - He emphasizes the last word and you feel excited. If you're his, he cannot to kiss his ex anymore.

"If you think I'm yours, then you're mine." - You say, lowering your voice. You sound so serious that Jungkook is surprised. He has never heard you sound so powerful. "If I ever see your ex again, or see you flirting with other people, you'll know what the fire inside me really is." - Jungkook laughs out loud and can't wait to kiss you.

"Your jealousy makes me hot." - Jungkook says as he pulls away from your lips.

"I find my jealousy annoying, so you better not test my nerves." - You say. "Let me go, I have to take a quick shower. I think the yukkejang is burnt. My mom will kill me." - You complain. Before you leave the room, you turn to Jungkook, who is lying completely naked on your bed, looking at you. "Move your ass, Jeon, and get me a pill, or you'll be a father in nine months." - You finally get out. Jungkook lies there like a stone. Your words about fatherhood seem to have hit him over the head.

For a moment, he imagined how beautiful you would be pregnant, carrying his child under your heart. But he quickly pushed those thoughts away. He can't think about that. Because you are already his Achilles' heel.

He is strictly forbidden to think about a normal life, a family, or a child while he is working for Namjoon. Jungkook doesn't know if he'll ever be able to plan for that. Being in a relationship with you is already a lot of pressure for him, because he is responsible for your life, which could be in danger at any moment.

He really fell in love with you because you are all he can think about lately. He can't admit it to you because he doesn't want you to get attached to him, but he wants you to be able to see his love. It has been present in his actions, in his behavior for a long time.

Jungkook tries to be reserved, but his heart betrays him in every little thing. His love is his silent presence, his desire to make your day better, even when he's fighting his own demons.

"Read my love." - He repeats in his mind every time he touches you with his eyes. He can't say it out loud, but he’ll show you. Again and again, until you realize that you are his only reason to breathe.

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#jungkook x reader #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook smut #jungkook friends with benefits #bts mafia au

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