#he is aware that he is handsome and charming and WILL use that on other people in his missions

[mirrorsofwar]

while i do enjoy the headcanon that bb is oblivious to sexual-related things, the memes are a huge source of joy and amusement, one thing I do like to point out is there is no way he didn't learn seduction techniques from the boss ( who canonically was a charm school teacher ) and therefore has some experience in that field.

[onlymingyus]

give it to me

pairing;  jeon wonwoo x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop pouting.” 

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

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

“I don’t want to go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, Y/N, darling.” 

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

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

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

“Hello, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t—okay!” 

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

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

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

“Wonwoo…” 

“Now!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s go for a drive, Princess.” 

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

“Home sweet home, Y/N.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome home.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How was your nap?”

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

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

“I want to go home.” 

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

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

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

“You are such an asshole.” 

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

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

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

“Eat, we are gonna be here awhile.” 

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

“I’m fine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

“Mr. Y/L/N, good evening.” 

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

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

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

“Like what? Who is this?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have to be fucking kidding me.” 

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

“Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

“What?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, whatever…” 

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

“Y/N, get up. Come over here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and listen to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just a good liar.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not broken; you’ll live.” 

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

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

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

Park: I’m tired of your bullshit

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

Park: Hyong wants more pictures 

2 missed calls from Park 

Park: You son of a bitch 

Park: answer the fucking phone! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off. I'll take care of it.” 

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

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

“Wanna go for some fresh air, princess?” 

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

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

“Can I ask a question?” 

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

“Are you going to kill me?” 

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

“I’m supposed to. That’s the job.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl. Come on.” 

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to, Wonwoo.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Life insurance, Wonwoo.” 

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

“How much?” 

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

“100 billion.” 

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wonwoo: When I’m ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t get what he wants.” 

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

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

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

“Hey…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re allowed to react, princess.” 

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

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

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

“Trust me, I do.” 

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

“Do you even want to go home?” 

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

“He wants to kill me?” 

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

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

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

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

“Which one?” 

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

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

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

“He would? Park Bonhwa?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh—yeah, well, shit changes, doesn’t it? When you aren’t trying to actively hate someone for the job and they aren’t being a bitch for fun?”

Letting out a scoff, you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, almost defiantly realizing how close he is. You can see his brows knit together as his eyes waver from your eyes to your lips and back. Neither of you are idiots or immune to the tension blanketing the two of you as your eyes follow a similar path on his face. 

“It wasn’t for fun... all the time. Most of the time it was—” 

“A shield?”

Nodding, you find your brows pulling together this time at Wonwoo’s words, as he seems to know you better than to anticipate. He had been paying attention to you and listening to what you had been saying over the past few days. Inhaling softly, you feel Wonwoo’s fingers press against your arm as he mutters a curse under his breath, leaning his head in closer to yours. You can almost see the internal battle written on Wonwoo’s face as he struggles with the desire to act on his wants and instincts compared to what he knows he should do. 

“Are you still afraid of me?” 

Shaking your head, you pause to lick your lips and Wonwoo smiles, knowing you aren’t telling him the full truth. Maybe you weren’t as afraid of him as you once were, but there is still fear left. Giving into desire, Wonwoo leans in the last few inches, letting his lips barely brush against yours as he speaks, letting you decide to meet his kiss or pull away. 

“Promised I wouldn’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone else either.”

A small whine escapes from your lips at Wonwoo’s confession and the feeling of his breath on your lips. You have a split second to consider your options before you give in to your desires and meet his kiss gently. You have little to no reason to trust Wonwoo and yet now everything in your being is telling you that you can, as his lips mesh with yours. 

Flexing your fingers, you dig them into the mattress under you, enjoying the feeling of it under you. There was something freeing about this fucked up situation you found yourself in. There were still some who expected something out of you, but you had the most unexpected shield. 

Opening your eyes, you look at Wonwoo’s face as he sleeps beside you. After the simple kiss, he insisted you finish eating and ushered you upstairs to bed. You could remember the same man who had forced you up steps a few days earlier, but he seemed a million miles away now. 

The man sleeping beside you now, his brows knit together as he dreamed, wasn’t that person. Perhaps he was on the surface, but underneath that mask, you were learning he was a warm, complicated person. He wasn’t the asshole you had called him so many times and you weren’t the bitch you pretended to be. There was an art to lying as much as you two had to one another. 

Shifting slightly, you take a breath, only to hold it when Wonwoo’s eyes flutter open. He was apparently a light sleeper. You had wondered if he was; he always seemed to be awake at the apartment so seeing him asleep was a rare, fleeting treat. Looking over your face, Wonwoo’s lips pull up slightly in a smile before he turns to lay on his back with a sigh. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo rubs his eyes with his middle finger and thumb as he yawns. You smile watching him enjoy how domestic the moment feels, wishing it would never end. You find yourself letting your eyes move over Wonwoo a bit more brazenly while he’s distracted. How attractive he was had never escaped you; it had just been overshadowed by how much he had frightened you, but now, as he rubbed at his tired eyes, you found him even more handsome. 

“I don’t really sleep.” 

Pursing your lips, you pull your legs up towards your stomach under the blanket, your thumbnail resting against your lips as you try to hide your smile. Wonwoo lifts his brows at your reaction to him, his eyes doing something similar to yours, but he takes a bit more time before taking a breath and licking his lips. 

“What? You don’t believe me?” 

Resting your head on your bicep, you shake it slightly, move your hand from your lips. 

“It’s not that. You just confuse me. I’m not sure you are human.” 

Smiling, Wonwoo lifts his brow and lets his eyes once again move over your pretty face. If he let himself, he could imagine this being a very normal situation. Just two people lying in bed, getting closer to one another. It was almost terrifying to him that he wanted that, but looking at you as you nuzzled your cheek to the soft sweater you were now lovingly wearing, Wonwoo yearned for it. 

“I am… I just tend to run off caffeine and power naps.” 

Your laugh is welcomed music to Wonwoo’s ears. He had heard it before, when you were living your life before all of this. It hadn’t sounded like this, though. It was almost robotic then and annoying. It had gotten on his nerves; everything about you before had, and it had made hurting you easier. He couldn’t imagine hurting the girl in front of him now. Now he was fighting the urge to run his fingers over your face and over your hair. He was trying to convince himself not to kiss you again. 

“That can’t be healthy. Someone needs to take care of you, Kim Wonwoo.” 

Hearing the fake name that he had given you and your father, Wonwoo’s smile fades. You watch Wonwoo’s eyes move away from yours, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to think of what to say. You are about to ask him what’s wrong when the sound of his phone ringing draws his attention away from you and towards the nightstand. 

Narrowing his eyes at the name on the screen, Wonwoo sits up, swiping it almost angrily from the top of the nightstand before answering the phone. Your eyes follow him as he slides from the bed and runs his fingers through his hair, his voice suddenly deeper and rougher. 

“What the fuck do you want now?” 

Scowling at Wonwoo’s attitude, Park Bonhwa slams the door to his Cadillac, giving a lingering look to his driver. They all knew he was in a bad mood, he had been since he had taken on this contract and it was giving them all a headache. Jeon Wonwoo was a serious pain in the ass.

“You know what I fucking wanted, motherfucker! Now I just want her corpse. I’ll send someone else to get it if you are too much of a pussy to—” 

“You won’t do anything!” 

Being cut off by Wonwoo, Bonhwa smacks his hand against the metal door in front of him. The professional that had come so highly recommended was starting to look more like a petulant child than a hitman. 

“Who the hell do you think you are to tell me what I can and can’t do, Jeon?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo glances back at you, realizing you could hear more of his conversation than he would like. He could see the tears on your cheeks and he needed to fix this. Pulling open the bedroom door, Wonwoo slams it behind him, leaving you alone and unable to hear anything more than his muffled angry voice and the occasional word, but it was enough. You understood what “Park” wanted. Wonwoo had offered to help you disappear, but maybe that was too difficult. 

Hissing out his words like venom, Wonwoo glares at the window in front of him as if Bonhwa is in front of him. At this point, he wished the man was. He would let him take your place and make this all a lot simpler. 

“I’ll take care of it! Wire the goddamn money, you piece of shit. If your timeline can speed up, my price can go up.” 

Wonwoo can hear Bonhwa’s argument starting but he is quick to cut him off before he starts by ending the call. There was a lot to explain to you and a lot to apologize for. Granted, he didn’t really owe you or anyone an apology for living his life and making a living in the best way he knew how. It wasn’t his fault he had fallen—no, he wasn’t going to admit that even to himself. 

Scrolling through his contacts, Wonwoo hits another name, placing the phone back against his ear and letting it ring. His head was starting to hurt. He hadn’t slept enough; like he had told you, he rarely did, but now it was starting to weigh on him. 

“What? Turning yourself in?” 

Wonwoo scoffs at Choi Seungcheol’s words as he slides down the wall outside of the bedroom. There had only been one man who had even come close to catching him and it had been Detective Choi Seungcheol. The only reason he hadn’t was because of a deal struck between a desperate man and an even more desperate, not always by the book, detective. It had worked in Wonwoo’s favor then and he hoped it would now. 

“Never. Need to ask for that favor.” 

Rolling his eyes, Seungcheol glances around his office before leaning to close the door with a deafening click. He owed Wonwoo more than one favor, but luckily for him so far none of them had bit him in the ass. He hoped this one wouldn’t either. 

“And you need to get that girl home, Wonwoo. How long are you gonna keep her away from her family?” 

"Forever, hopefully, with your help.” 

That hadn’t been the answer that Seungcheol had been expecting. He hadn’t heard about your kidnapping through your father until another reliable source brought it to his attention. It was only when he and another officer approached your father did he even admit to you being taken. Seungcheol knew there was something strange about this case. It didn’t matter if fathers were told not to tell the police about their children being kidnapped, they would. That was just a father’s instinct to protect a child. Your father was different. He seemed like he had already accepted your death. 

“I—and why the fuck would I—”

“Because I’m going to help you get a promotion, Cheol.” 

Wonwoo knew that would get Seungcheol’s attention and it did. Now the detective was listening, his lips pursed as he looked at his computer in front of him, deep in thought, before finally letting out a breath. 

“How so?”

Of course, he would want to know what he would get out of it first. That detail didn’t make Wonwoo feel the best about this, but he would go about it however he needed to in order to help you now. Glancing towards the closed door, hoping that you weren’t upset with him for walking out, Wonwoo chewed at his cheek and knocked his head back against the wall. 

“Her dad, I think I can get—no, I know I can get enough to blow a whistle on his company. It’d be one hell of a bust for you, Detective Choi.”

Leaning forward to rest his elbow on his desk, Seungcheol scoffed at Wonwoo’s attempt at flattery. It was working. He knew that Y/L/N Financial Incorporation was shady, but he couldn’t touch it. There were too many lawyers and hoops to jump through in the corporate world that gave Seungcheol ulcers, but if it were laid in his lap… Well, that was a different story. Bringing down a corrupt trading company that many had lost their money to could do just what Wonwoo had said. He could have almost any position in the department that he wanted, or he could run for office. 

“And what do you need from me?” 

A breath of relief washes over Wonwoo at Seungcheol’s question. He knew the man had other connections and between the two of them and pulling a few other strings, they could solve this. 

“She doesn’t want to go home, Cheol, and they all want her dead. So, we give them what they want. She gets a fresh start and a new name.” 

This wasn’t something easily done, but Seungcheol knew that Wonwoo knew that. He knew what he was asking of him and now Seungcheol wasn’t sure if the prize was worth the work. Making a sound of concern, Seungcheol sits back in his chair, glancing towards his door, when Wonwoo speaks up once again. 

“Have you met her father?” 

Furrowing his brows, Seungcheol remembers talking to the man in his office. The older man had refused to come to the station, and even meeting in his own plush personal office seemed like an inconvenience. Talking about your kidnapping and possible impending death seemed like an inconvenience for him. Seungcheol remembered leaving frustrated and confused. He wasn’t a father yet but he hoped that he would be a better one than yours. 

“Mm, a real son of a bitch.” 

“He’s got a hell of a life insurance policy for Y/N. He doesn’t want her back, Cheol. Imagine how that might make her feel. She knew the moment I took her that she wasn’t going to make it, and I wasn’t even the one who told her.” 

Guilt hits Seungcheol in the stomach. He wants to argue with Wonwoo, turn on the cop and get angry with him for taking you, but from the sound of your situation, maybe it was a good thing he had taken you out of it. He wasn’t an idiot; he had already been told the stories of the business parties and the deals your father tried to make involving you. Seungcheol shakes his head and scoffs, making a face as if he’d eaten something sour.

“Fine, I’ll help you—I’ll help Y/N. Get your information together to make it worth my time. You know what you’re askin’ for, Wonwoo. Your information isn’t good enough and I lose my job? I’ll kill you.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s threat, though he knows it's a good one. He knew that Choi Seungcheol would be one of the only people who would probably be able to hunt him down and would kill him given the chance, but it wouldn’t happen. 

“The information will be better than good.” 

Picking at your nails, you lean your head back against the headboard, listening to Wonwoo’s muffled voice just outside of the bedroom. The first conversation had been heated and full of hatred, but this second one seemed to be going his way. 

Your tears had dried on your cheeks, but the churning feeling hadn’t quite settled in your stomach by the time Wonwoo opens the door. He could almost feel how your attitude had shifted from before as he leaned against the doorframe. That smile that he had been enjoying was nowhere to be found, and he knew that laugh was going to be hard won. 

“Y/N…” 

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Wonwoo anymore. You weren’t even afraid or surprised by the situation; at this point, you were coming to terms with reality. Meeting his eyes, you feel the tears once again well up in your eyes as he frowns and shakes his head. 

“It’s fine, Wonwoo.” 

Moving on to the bed, Wonwoo reaches for your hand, trying to come up with the right words to explain things when you continue. 

“I know you didn’t want me to overhear it, but it really is okay. I know my father doesn’t give a shit about me. He didn’t care about my mother, so why would I be different?” Using your free hand to rub at your nose, you glance down at your hand in Wonwoo’s. “If I could just ask a favor or two?” 

Your words were breaking Wonwoo’s heart, but as you spoke, they felt necessary. Each word builds on one another, like an explanation of you, until you finally ask something of him. Humming softly to let you continue, Wonwoo swallows hard, reaching out with his free hand to push at your tears on your cheek with his thumb. 

“I don’t want to be in pain and could you make my death mean something? Make it a lesson for him? He’s going to get even richer from it, but that doesn’t mean—-”

Having heard enough, the implication of you asking him to make your death not painful, Wonwoo slides his hand along your cheek to cup your face. 

“Stop, Y/N… just—shh, please, princess?” 

Closing your eyes when Wonwoo stops you mid sentence, you lean into his touch, feeling his forehead rest against yours. You meant every word. You hated the idea of being overwhelmed with pain or fear at the moment of your death, just as much as you hated your father using your death for his own gain. You felt like those were valid wishes from a dead woman, but maybe they were too hard for the one who had to fulfill them. 

“I can’t listen to you talk like that. Fuck—” 

Wonwoo was a cold man on most days. He didn’t have many emotions and none that would be shared with most people, but today he felt tears collecting on the rims of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or the last time his chest felt so heavy as he had someone in his hands. The feeling of your skin against his palm was better than anything he could imagine, and he knew he would do anything for you and do anything to keep you close to him in that moment. 

“I’m not going to kill you. I told you that. They don’t get to win. Baby… I—I mean, fuck, I told you that already.” 

Hearing “baby” slip off Wonwoo’s lips makes fresh tears slip down your cheeks. It was almost cruel the cards that the world was dealing you. In your mind, there was no way you’d be able to keep this man in front of you, so why were you once again being tortured by wanting him and his love? You were starting to understand him, or so you thought, and he wasn’t the type to keep people around or love them. 

Shaking your head, you try to lean back, wanting to make this separation easier on you and Wonwoo, but your fingers hold you to him. A sound of pain escapes Wonwoo’s lips as he slides along your arm and he shakes his head in return. 

“I’ll make you disappear; remember, I said I knew someone, and I’ll—” The words seem difficult and unplanned as Wonwoo leans back, his fingers once again trying to get rid of your tears as you meet his eyes. He looks desperate, almost like a different person—a man not willing to lose what’s in front of him. “I’ll disappear with you.” 

Wrapping your hands around Wonwoo’s wrists, you give him a confused look. There were so many questions on your mind because so many things about what he just said didn’t make sense to you. You didn’t understand how his friend could just make you disappear and go with you. 

“Why?” Now the same confusion was written on Wonwoo’s face as you asked the one word question, prompting you to speak again. “Why would you disappear with me, Wonwoo?” 

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo strokes his thumb along your cheek. That was a valid question. You had every right to ask that, and he should answer it. Furrowing his brows, Wonwoo licks his lips and glances down at yours before cursing under his breath. He knew the answer, it was just the most difficult thing he had ever admitted to another person in his life.

“I—shit, Y/N… it’s cause…” 

You watch Wonwoo struggle with his words, feeling his fingers move over your skin as his brows furrow, almost in pain at how hard he’s trying to manifest his sentence. What was so hard to say to you? Sighing, you start to pull away again when Wonwoo’s lips meet yours and you only whimper into the kiss. 

Wonwoo hopes the kiss will be enough to explain what he’s trying to say, but even as he deepens it and his tongue swipes along the seam of your lips, he knows it’s not. He can feel your hand grabbing at his bicep and the words bubble up in his throat, escaping on to your lips like a breath. 

“I love you.” 

Your eyes close tighter at Wonwoo’s words, the confession hitting you in the chest like a brick. You scratch at his arm under your fingers and let out a soft sob into the kiss, feeling him nod, almost understanding you without words. The tension in the room is thick and warm. It felt like a blanket in the middle of the summer, making you both feel like you were overheating. 

Laying you back on the bed, Wonwoo hovers over you, looking over your face, when he finally pulls back from the kiss. Your tears still flow freely from the corners of your eyes, causing him to swipe at them and shake his head, wishing he could will them away with a single word. 

“I do; I’m sorry—” 

Wrapping your hand into the front of Wonwoo’s t-shirt, pull him down hard to meet your lips, speaking against them as he starts to apologize for loving you. You silence him with your kiss, letting him settle between your thighs as you pull your knee up towards his hip. Wonwoo groans softly into your mouth, his brows finally relaxing, feeling you invite him closer to you. 

With your free hand, you run your fingers through Wonwoo's hair, arching your back as his fingers gather your dress at your hip. After nipping at your lips, he tilts back to look down at you, searching your eyes before staring at his hand as he exposes more of your skin. The air crackles with electric anticipation as desire intensifies between you and Wonwoo. Every touch and every glance fuels the growing fire within, leaving you both yearning for more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between your bodies. On an exhale, you let out a soft whine, walking your fingers along Wonwoo's jaw, your words coming out breathy and soft.

“Don’t apologize for saying that to me, Wonwoo.” 

Closing his eyes, Wonwoo turns his attention back towards you, leaning to press his lips against your wrist. He knew he had a lot to explain to you. There was a lot you didn’t understand, a lot of half truths he had told you. He didn’t wait anymore, not when he rested between your warm thighs and felt your fingers tighten on his shirt, keeping him close to you like you never wanted to lose him. He was afraid once you knew the full truth about him, you wouldn’t want him this close to you again. 

“Want you so fucking bad, princess.” 

Wonwoo’s words are quiet, his lips moving to press against your jaw as he lays his body against yours. You whine, finally letting go of his shirt in place of wrapping your arm around his waist so you can pull his shirt up his back. All that tension in the room feels like a fire burning around you when you hear him say those words out loud. 

Nodding, you lift your hips towards Wonwoo, feeling him smile against your skin before he furrows his brows and whines into a groan. Fingers slide under your dress, along your inner thigh, until finally Wonwoo finds what he was searching for. He can feel your warmth through your damp lace and it’s driving him crazy. 

Glancing up at you, Wonwoo watches your lips fall open as he uses his middle finger to press the lace between your folds. It doesn’t take more than a second for him to put pressure on your already throbbing clit, and you are wanting and needing more. 

“Please… please, more…” 

Wonwoo feels his cock twitch in at your breathy moans. Each new word on your lips—better than anything he had ever experienced. There was no other high that he could think of that could compare to the way his brain soared at such simple words slipping from between your pretty lips. He could feel himself becoming addicted to you with each breathy moan that he earned. 

He wanted to give you everything you wanted and more; it would be easy. He could move his fingers ever so slightly and have his fingers inside of you, but looking at your face, Wonwoo paused. Swallowing hard, Wonwoo puts his head down, kissing your collarbone in the process as you feel his fingers slide to your thigh. 

“Wha—Wonwoo?”

Reaching for his hand, trying to get him to go back to what he had been doing, you feel Wonwoo’s hand wrap around your wrist. Instead of letting you guide his hand, he lifts yours to his mouth, kissing your fingers as he meets yours eyes, giving you an apologetic look. 

“I do want you, baby... but I need to explain some things to you first. I need you to understand who you are letting touch you, so that if you don’t want—” 

Sliding up in the bed under Wonwoo, you cup his face, pressing your lips to his to silence him before he starts rambling. You weren’t stupid; you knew there were lies and obviously plenty weighing on his mind, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Meeting his eyes, you wait for him to speak, finally seeing some of the tension once again release from his face. 

“Earlier, uh, you called me Kim Wonwoo.” 

Nodding, you trace Wonwoo’s cheek as he settles on the bed in front of you. His hands slide over your legs, letting you adjust so that you are more comfortable. When you drape your leg over his, Wonwoo glances down at your exposed knee, tracing a small scar, trying to distract himself as he speaks. 

“That’s not my name. I mean, sort of. It’s Jeon Wonwoo.” 

Afraid to meet your eyes, Wonwoo draws shapes on your leg as he continues to explain his life to you. This is the only job he’s ever really known. He doesn’t explain how he got into it, but he’s hurt a lot of people and though he doesn’t say it, you understand he’s killed several people. 

“Did they deserve it?” 

The question makes Wonwoo’s throat feel like it’s closing up. That was the most difficult question he had ever been asked. This was why he didn’t have emotions or show them. You were bringing out his emotions and making his heart feel things that he hadn’t felt in decades. Watching Wonwoo lean his head back, you feel sorrow for the man in front of you. You want to fix his life, but then you remember how fucked up your own life is as he laughs sadly and shakes his head before shrugging. 

“I don’t know, babe. No, not all of them. I didn’t ask them about their morals.”

Shushing Wonwoo, you tilt his head back down to look at you as you lean to brush your lips over his again, feeling him melt under your touch and kiss. It should matter more to you about Wonwoo’s past and possibly his future, but you find that you are more concerned about how he feels about you. 

“Did I deserve it?” 

Grabbing your wrists, Wonwoo sits back, staring at you, before letting go of one hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. It was a painful question, but a fair one. You had every right to ask it and he needed to answer it no matter how much it hurt him to do it. 

“I thought you did at first. Made it easier to take you, to scare you.” Taking a breath, Wonwoo traces the shape of your ear with his fingers meeting your eyes. “But now I know you didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry, Y/N. If you wanna walk out that door, I’ll let you leave.” 

Wonwoo’s hand starts to drop from your face as he finishes what he needs to say. He looks defeated and certain you are going to not only kick him out of bed, but worse, you might actually want to leave. The moment his fingers drop from your jaw, you shake your head and move forward, hearing a soft, surprised gasp escape from Wonwoo’s lips when you put his back on the bed. Straddling his hips, you nudge your nose against his and tease him by brushing your lips like a whispered word along his, making him lean up to chase you before you speak. 

“I thought you said you’d disappear with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” 

His real name on your lips almost floors Wonwoo. His head resting back on the bed, Wonwoo nods, reaching up to once again cup your face with his hand as he mutters his promises. 

“I will, yes. I promise... as soon as we can.” 

Crashing your lips into his, you hear Wonwoo groan deeply at the feeling. The kiss is different, it’s almost sealing the promise and you both seem to realize that. Fingers once again slide under your dress so that Wonwoo can trace the curve of your ass as you sit down over his half hard cock trapped in his sweatpants. 

You were so warm even with his pants and your thin panties, and it was causing Wonwoo’s mind to malfunction. It had been a long time since he had let himself really enjoy sex and a woman’s body for more than just a carnal need. If this had been anyone else, it would be over in minutes without much more than a word said from either person. Everything about you had Wonwoo’s brain screaming to take his time and teach you he could be better. 

“Fuck… baby.” Groaning into something that sounds more like a whimper, Wonwoo rocks his hips up to meet yours, feeling you roll your hips over him. “Lay down, let me take care of you.” 

Smiling, you sit up, running your fingers over Wonwoo’s chest, feeling him take deep breaths under your touch. In the past, you would have agreed to something like that without question. You would be the first to admit that you were lazy in bed with other people, a bit of a pillow princess, but with Wonwoo, you wanted to be something different. He made you want to show him more, give him more. Show him he is worth more. He was worth the risk. 

Shaking your head, you slide down the length of his body, feeling Wonwoo’s eyes on you as he tells you to let him take over once again. He is silenced when your hot breath fans over the front of his sweatpants and his cock jerks almost violently in reaction. 

Pressing his head back against the bed, Wonwoo just nods, lifting his hips as your fingers press into the top of his sweatpants, working them down his thighs. Your eyes focus on his face, the way he bites at his bottom lip when his cock is exposed to the air and you for the first time. Finally looking down, you tilt your head and swallow hard, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear your reaction when your eyes move over his cock from base to tip. 

“You okay? Princess… I said, let me—” 

“Shhh, you are just so big, Wonwoo. It’s a compliment. Take off your shirt for me.” 

Your words go straight to Wonwoo’s head and make his face burn, the flush evident running from his neck to his cheeks as he lets out a slow breath. Dropping his pants into the floor, you keep your eyes on him, enjoying the view as he does as you ask, tugging his t-shirt over his head and tossing it across the room. 

Laying back reluctantly, he sits back up on his elbows as his cock leaks pre-cum against his abdomen, his eyes moving over you while you shift closer, running your hand along his thigh. 

“Baby—c’mon… Let me see you at least.” 

Smirking slightly, you work the sweater over your head as Wonwoo watches carefully. 

“I think you are being impatient.” 

Quietly laughing, Wonwoo reaches out to run his thumb along your knee, his eyes following your fingers as you work your dress up your body. 

“Maybe… but you are so fucking beautiful and you won’t let me touch you first. I was close before... you were begging me.” 

Humming in agreement with Wonwoo, you hand him your dress, watching him smile as he drops it on the floor with his clothes. His eyes stay focused on you as you reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, feeling it give way. 

“Maybe I want you to beg me instead.” 

Lifting his brow, Wonwoo takes a deep breath as your bra falls from your body. He knew you were perfect. There had been no doubt about that from the moment he first saw you as your bodyguard, but seeing you like this and feeling this way about you was a privilege. 

“I don’t beg for things, princess.” 

Tilting your head, you sit back on your ass between Wonwoo’s legs. With one leg on either side of his, you lift your hips, working your panties down. You hear his breath hitch as you lift one leg and then the other, slipping them off and letting them hang on your fingers before you offer them to him with a question in your eyes. 

“You don’t?” 

Reaching out to take your panties from you, Wonwoo scoffs when you pull them back just as his fingers graze them. He knows he could simply move and take them from you, but he knows what you want and you were making his mouth water. Licking his lips, Wonwoo tightens his jaw and meets your eyes, putting out his hand. 

“But I will for you. Please, baby? Don’t tease me.” 

Teasing Wonwoo was fun and it was powerful, but giving him something that he needed was just as rewarding. Smirking, you put your panties in Wonwoo’s hand, moving back to your knees as you watch him bring them to his nose, taking a deep breath of you. Only once he’s had his fill does he drop them next to the bed with the rest of the clothes and lick his lips, swallowing hard at the sight of you. 

"Sure, I can’t take care of you first?” 

Shaking your head, you listen to Wonwoo groan your name when your fingers wrap around his cock. He is heavy in your hand and you find yourself wanting that weight on your tongue. You want him to moan your name like that as you swallow as much of his cock as you can… so instead of answering him, you act on your desires. 

Falling back on the bed, Wonwoo curses loudly as your warm mouth wraps around him. Letting your mouth meet your hand, you moan around Wonwoo, sucking on his head as you pull back, only to sink back down over him without warning. It had been far too long since Wonwoo had been with someone even close to as determined as you in bed and that was becoming too evident as he struggled to keep himself from cumming too soon. 

“Bab—shit! Y/N… slow—ah, don’t wanna…” 

Pulling back from Wonwoo’s cock with a small popping sound, you feel his hips jerk under your hand as you continue to stroke him. Everything you had wanted from him was becoming a reality. You were dripping onto the bed under you from the sounds coming out of Wonwoo’s mouth and the taste of him on your tongue. 

Clinging to the bedding under him, Wonwoo groans loudly as you press your tongue against his slit. Not wanting to cum into your mouth, he reaches to grab at your hair, whining your name and pushing his ass against the bed, trying to get away from your mouth. 

“Wanna—please? Feels too good. Let me have you.” 

Meeting Wonwoo’s eyes again, you lick your lips, tasking the pre-cum smeared on them, listening to another groan slip from between his lips at the sight. You were going to be the death of him before he got his cock in you at this rate. 

Sitting back, you laugh when Wonwoo wastes no time turning over on the bed so he can get back between your thighs. With no lace between him and your pussy this time, he shakes his head and lets out a slow breath, lowering himself down to press kisses to your thighs before running his tongue through your wet folds. 

Wonwoo groans, his fingers gripping you tighter and pulling you closer to his mouth as he tastes you for the first time. Every worry disappears, along with every thought in his mind, as he focuses on you and nothing else. Wrapping his arm around your leg, Wonwoo adjusts himself on the bed, listening to your soft whimpering moans, driving him to make you feel even better. 

You could already feel yourself tightening around nothing as Wonwoo sucked around your clit, his fingers pushing your folds apart, giving him access to the sensitive bundle of nerves. You wanted and needed more. The desire to be full of him overwhelms your brain just as much as your impending orgasm. 

“Plea—Wonwoo…  your fingers. I need something inside of me.” 

You clearly had no idea how sexy your words were because, as soon as you spoke them, Wonwoo was trying not to thrust his hips into the mattress to find relief. Clawing at Wonwoo’s arm, you whimper his name doing your best to get what you want at your pace. Nodding, he groans, leaning back just enough to watch as he works a finger into you, feeling your tight walls suck him in. You weren’t even close to being able to handle his cock if he had to work for one finger. 

“Baby… relax.” 

Scoffing, you roll your hips down over Wonwoo’s finger as he nips at your folds, sending waves of pleasure through you. How did he expect you to relax with what was going on between your legs? Shooting him a contemptuous look, you watch as Wonwoo grins up at you before looking back at his fingers as he gently adds a second. 

“You’ve given me that look before, princess. Right before you told me you hoped I lost my job as your bodyguard.” 

Thrusting his fingers deep into you, Wonwoo watches you arch your back, a loud moan dripping off your lips like honey. There had been times before all of this, when he had been playing the part of your bodyguard when he had brief moments of weakness, picturing turning you over a surface and fucking some respect into you. If the man he was then could see him now. He imagined that man would not only be shocked at how much he had changed in such a short time, but he would probably be jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous to see your cum dripping down his palm towards his wrist as he continued to fuck you with his fingers? 

“Yes, baby… Fuck—another one. Just like that. Cum all over my fingers; take another one.” 

A third finger slips into you and you practically scream in pleasure at how full you feel. The first orgasm had made your thighs start to shake, but the second one had come on so quickly after the first that you were crying. Tears drip from your cheeks as you push your hips down over Wonwoo’s fingers until you can’t take it anymore, the overstimulation making you close your legs around his hand. 

Giving you one more deep thrust of his fingers, Wonwoo presses his lips to your shin as he slowly and carefully slides his fingers from your warm, throbbing pussy. You were panting out your moans like a cat in heat and it was better than anything Wonwoo had ever seen or heard in his life. There was nothing staged that could measure up to you—no porn or even work of art that matched you. 

Running his hands along your knees, Wonwoo meets your eyes as he works your legs apart, feeling them shake under his touch. He knew you were still sensitive, but his cock was aching for you. Resting between your legs, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling your wet folds against his shaft as he rocks his hips towards you. One more questioning look, asking for permission, and getting a frantic nod from you is all it takes for him to ease himself into you. 

The feeling of Wonwoo inside of you is so much more than his fingers and it takes your breath away. Pressing your face against his neck, you gasp, feeling the stretch when he finally stops moving, his hips flush with yours. Closing his eyes, Wonwoo has to take a steady breath, feeling you clench around him, threatening to make him cum on the spot. 

“Baby, breathe… Is it too much?” 

Shaking your head, you cling to Wonwoo, afraid he will pull out and you’ll be empty again. You whine his name, leaning your head back onto the pillows, meeting his eyes. Searching your eyes for pain, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands to brush his thumb over your cheek as he waits patiently for you to adjust to him, though it takes every ounce of patience he has. 

“Okay, just tell—tell me when I can move.” 

Nodding quickly, you scratch at Wonwoo’s sides, hearing him hiss at the feeling. You were ready for him to move, but words were hard to form. You were finding it hard to think of anything other than him and the feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you. Lifting your hips, you moan his name and Wonwoo groans, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. Warm breath fans across your lips as he nods and whispers, “Okay,” before moving slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or himself too quickly. 

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, more tears roll from your eyes to your temples at how good it feels to have Wonwoo inside of you. The way his cock stretches you so perfectly and how his head brushes over your spot each time pulls out enough to push right back into your warm walls. 

“Please, please, Wonwoo, baby... faster.” 

Your pleas come out as sobbing moans, causing Wonwoo to give you a concerned look, but as soon as he sees the fucked out look on your face, he can’t help but give you what you want. His thrusts become more urgent and harder. With each one, Wonwoo feels you get that much tighter around his cock until finally the coil inside you snaps. He had thought you were wet before but feeling your cum on his cock was an experience that Wonwoo knew he would never forget and it was enough to send him barreling over the edge after you. 

Resting his head against your neck, Wonwoo curses under his breath, feeling his cum seep out of you, mixing with yours. He was usually much more careful than this, but he had gotten lost in the moment. Shaking his head, Wonwoo carefully slides out of you and meets your eyes full of guilt, only to find you still full of bliss. 

“I didn’t even ask, baby. I’m sorry—” 

Sliding your hand along Wonwoo’s jaw to his neck, you shake your head and close your eyes. You knew what had happened and what could come of it, but that wasn’t something that you could concern yourself with today. Right now, you are just happy to be alive and in bed with Wonwoo. It was the first time in possibly your entire life that you were this happy and you wouldn’t let him spoil it with guilt. 

“Don’t... just tell me that you love me again.” 

Unable to stop his lips from pulling up in a smile, Wonwoo shakes his head at your reaction to the situation. Moving to lay beside you, knowing neither of you could stay like this for long without taking a shower, he pulls you into his arms and presses his lips against your neck. You smile, wrapping your arms around his. 

“I love you, Y/N.”  

“I love you too, Wonwoo.” 

This was the longest you had seen Wonwoo sleep. Even as you ran your fingers delicately along the bridge of his nose, he barely flinched. A smile pulls at your lips at the sight and at how warm and safe you feel lying next to him as the sun rises. 

During the time that you had been awake, Wonwoo’s phone had gone off twice. You had a good feeling that the missed calls were from Park Bonhwa, but you couldn’t bear the thought of waking Wonwoo or checking his phone. There was a beautiful silence surrounding you both and not even that man could ruin it, as long as you didn’t let him. 

Tracing the dip of Wonwoo’s cupid’s bow, you watch as his lips twitch into a soft smile and his eyes slowly open. It was selfish of you to touch Wonwoo so much when he was sleeping so soundly, but seeing his eyes on you and feeling the comfort of them made it worth it. 

Pulling you into his arms, Wonwoo grunts softly at the feeling of your cold fingers sliding along his ribs. He could get used to this—waking up and seeing you first thing. He wanted to get used to it, but there were things that had to happen first. 

“Mm, morning, baby. “ 

Lips press against the top of your head and you find yourself nuzzling against Wonwoo’s chest, not wanting to face anything in the real world. You like the way his deep voice sounds when you are so close to his body, the way it seems to vibrate in his chest. Resting your ear against his chest, you smile and bite at your bottom lip, hearing Wonwoo laugh. 

“Don’t wanna get up?” 

Shaking your head, you whine, and Wonwoo runs his long fingers along your back, stopping to draw small circles along your spine before tracing each notch on his way up to your neck. He understood the sentiment and wanted to give you what you wanted. He wanted to give you everything you wanted now. 

“We need to talk about what comes next. Cheol is going to work on what we need for you to disappear, but he needs payment.” 

There was always a catch to everything. That was something that you understood from a very young age. Everything came with a price. Your father never let you think that money grew on trees. Despite knowing you were incredibly wealthy and that you could potentially have anything you wanted, he made you earn his respect before he would give you any allowance or credit cards. Your father’s respect had cost the most out of anything you had ever paid for in your life. You will never forget the day you told your mother that you loved your father more than her and watched her face fall. 

“Mmkay, how much money does he need?” 

Wonwoo shakes his head at the mention of money. Of course your mind would go to money first; that was how your father had probably raised you. It wasn’t your fault that you were the way you were; Wonwoo understood that now. You were broken because you were carefully shattered piece by piece by your father over the course of your life. 

“Not money, baby. Information. Trust me, this will be good for everyone in the end.” Smirking, Wonwoo lifts his hand from your back to scratch at his eyebrow as he scoffs at his own words, correcting them. “Almost everyone.” 

Information was a currency you were familiar with; it just wasn’t something you commonly used. You have seen your father get rich off information plenty of times. Leaning your head back, you glance up at Wonwoo, furrowing your brows as he lifts his hand to brush his fingers over your cheek. 

“About my father?”

The next couple of hours you spend against Wonwoo go through what you know about your father’s company. You tell him more about the business dinners and dates that he has set up for you over the years and though Wonwoo listens carefully, he seethes. Every new piece of information he leaves about your father makes him hate the man even more. 

It’s when you get to your mother that you find it more difficult to talk with confidence. You find strength in Wonwoo’s touch, his hands gliding over your skin as his lips press to your forehead, taking in each word. Your sorrow at losing the one person who meant something to you, becomes Wonwoo’s sorrow when tears drip from your cheek onto his chest. 

“Baby… I know this is too much. I’m sorry, we can talk more about the business side—”

“It’s okay. It’s his fault.” Rubbing your nose hard, you pull your legs under you, letting Wonwoo tuck you into his side. “I don’t know how, but I just know it is. She didn’t just die.” 

There is no doubt in Wonwoo’s mind that you are right about your assumption. With as much life insurance that your father had placed on you, he could only imagine the amount he would put on a spouse. 

“He kept reminding me after her funeral that I loved him more. He kept giving me gifts and all this money…” 

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Wonwoo tries to picture you mourning and your brute of a father wooing you out of it with possessions. The cold woman who had treated her staff like trash was just a reflection of him. 

“He’ll pay for that, Y/N. I promise.” 

You nod along with Wonwoo’s words, though you don’t understand how he plans on making that happen. In your eyes, your father was bulletproof. He was a cliff face that you kept hitting as the waves pushed you around like you were nothing. 

Tracing the shape of your bottom lip as you rest against his shoulder, Wonwoo furrows his brows, feeling concern wash over him. You had talked until you couldn’t anymore. Exhaustion had taken over you and not even having him next to you or food in your stomach was enough to keep your eyes open any longer. You looked calm like this—breathing softly against his bare skin—even as you squeezed your eyes shut a bit tighter in your sleep. 

Wonwoo carefully slides his arm from under you, letting your cheek rest against his palm as he adjusts the pillow under your head. Now you look comfortable. He hated the idea of not having you in his arms, but there was much left to do. Giving you one more glance as he swipes his phone from the nightstand, Wonwoo opens the bedroom door and closes it before making his way downstairs. 

Seungcheol was trying not to get antsy about his current situation, but the minutes were ticking by and it didn’t seem like you or Wonwoo were in a rush. So when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the detective lets out a sigh of relief, leaning against his car. 

“I won’t lie, I had a few moments today when I thought you might be fucking me over.” 

Smirking at Seungcheol’s words, Wonwoo uses his index finger to pull the blinds ever so slightly from the window so he can check the street out of habit. 

“Just when we were starting to like one another?” 

Getting behind the wheel of the Audi, Seungcheol scoffs and presses the button to start his car. The sooner he could be away from the station, the better, especially if this conversation was going to go where he imagined it to. Hearing the sound of the engine as Seungcheol wastes no time in pulling out of the parking garage, Wonwoo shakes his head, dropping the blinds back in place and lowering himself into a nearby armchair. 

“I needed time to talk to Y/N. She’s the one with the most information, and she had plenty. Like I said, Cheol… you’ll get a promotion out of this.” 

Seungcheol can’t stop himself from taking a deep breath in anticipation. If the information was as good as Wonwoo was alluding to, this could be the best decision he has ever made. 

“I’m listening.” 

“And I have terms.” 

Of course he did. The good feeling that Seungcheol had for a fleeting moment sank right back into his chest with Wonwoo’s words. Leaning his head back against the leather headrest, Seungcheol tightens his grip on the steering wheel and narrows his eyes as he speaks. 

“Again, I’m listening.” 

Tilting his head, Wonwoo bites at his cheek out of a mixture of nerves and frustration. He knew that Seungcheol would be happy with what he had to tell him, but he had to make sure that you were taken care of. On top of that, he hadn’t known that he wanted to leave with you; that was a possible kink in the plan as far as Seungcheol might be concerned. 

“New name, meaning all IDs.” Seungcheol groans in annoyance at Wonwoo’s request; it was what he had assumed, but as soon as he starts to speak, he is cut off and rendered speechless. “For both of us.” 

“I—” 

Picking at a loose string on the chair, Wonwoo listens to Seungcheol struggle to make heads or tails of what he had just asked of him before he continues. 

“Money; we both know she can’t keep her accounts. We will need a safe flight out of Korea.” 

With his head spinning at all Wonwoo was asking of him, Seungcheol pulls his car over, putting it in park, before letting out an unamused laugh. 

“I—well fuck… anything else? Would you like for me to make her the Queen of England while I’m at it?” The amusement fades from his voice as he smacks at his dashboard. “Why are you asking for impossible things? How in the hell am I going to get you out of Korea?” 

“Figure it out, Seungcheol! Or are you not interested in bringing down her piece of shit father?” 

Throwing up his hands, Seungcheol scoffs in disbelief, unsure what could be worth giving up, Jeon Wonwoo. 

“For what? Some shady trading? The insurance policy? Give me something better than that or I’m gonna bring both of your asses in.” 

“Embezzlement, laundering, and possible murder.” 

Every snide comment and scoff that Seungcheol has been giving Wonwoo stops when he hears those words. 

“If—can she prove it?” 

Looking down at his hands, Wonwoo digs his nail into his thumb, feeling frustrated with Seungcheol and the entire situation. You shouldn't have to prove anything. It was practically being laid out for him, but he understood that some horses had to be led to water. 

“Y/N said there is a lawyer, Son Hyunwoo. Pay him enough and he’ll spill everything.” 

Typing the name into his phone and keeping Wonwoo on speaker in his car, Seungcheol nods, looking over the practice that Son Hyunwoo belongs to and some of his more prevalent clients. To the general public, his client list looked like a billboard for great service and reliability, but to a good detective, it screamed corruption. 

“This is good. If he talks, I’ll get you what you need. I’ll be in touch.” 

Wonwoo runs his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath when the phone disconnects. He hoped for your sake, more than his own, that you were right. 

— Two Days Later —

Bonhwa glares at his phone, seeing Wonwoo’s name. The man had been avoiding him like it was his job and now, just as he was about to have the dogs on his heels, he decided it was a good time to call. Gritting his teeth, Bonhwa answers his phone while pushing the heel of his hand under his nose to clean the white powder from it with a loud sniff. 

“Wanna make this easier on everyone by bringing her to my office? I promise I won’t kill you; just break something.” 

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo had already prepared for Park Bonhwa’s empty threats. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore than he was afraid of a dog without teeth. He knew that Bonhwa couldn’t find him, which means he couldn’t find you. With time, if the two of you stayed in Seoul, he might get a sniff on a trail, but that wasn’t happening. 

“I’ve been busy. Why are you so fuckin’ grumpy?” 

Watching Seungcheol load a suitcase into the trunk of the car as he talks to you, Wonwoo furrows his brows, hearing Bonhwa’s voice go up an octave. He knew he was pushing his buttons, but he had a reason. There was always a reason behind what Wonwoo did. 

“Why—why am I? You stupid son of a bitch! Half! I get half when I deliver proof of that bitch’s body to Hyong. Do you know how humiliating—” 

Hearing Wonwoo sigh, Bonhwa stops mid sentence to stare at the desk in front of him. He had half a mind to get in his car right now and search the entire city for Jeon Wonwoo. Feeling his phone vibrate in his hand, he furrows his brow and lets out a disgruntled sound, ready to continue telling Wonwoo off when Wonwoo speaks first. 

“Check your email. It’s done… makes no fucking sense to drive around with a body.” 

Your eyes follow Wonwoo as he paces talking to Bonhwa, you barely hear Seungcheol talking to you. Noticing you aren’t understanding what he’s telling you, the man steps in front of you, obscuring your view. 

“Can we finish our conversation now, Y/N? He’s fine. He’s taking care of what he needs to, so let’s go over the rest of this shit.” 

You weren’t sure how you felt about Choi Seungcheol. You could see why he had been the one who had gotten close to Wonwoo, he was tenacious and abrasive. Nodding, you watch as Seungcheol lifts his brows and leans to take a folder out of his car, showing it to you. 

“ID, passport, some cash... Wonwoo knows how to get more when it’s needed. This won’t be like the pampered life you had before, so—” 

“You don’t know anything about me, Seungcheol.” 

In the short time that he had known you, Seungcheol had heard you speak a handful of times. You had to let Wonwoo speak for you or at least let him carry the conversations. To say that he perhaps had a skewed view of you based on what he knew about your father and researching you, would be an understatement. 

“Maybe not, but I’m just saying... make it last. Keep your mouth shut.” 

Holding out your hand for the folder, you lock eyes with Seungcheol as he places it in yours. 

“I’m not stupid.” 

A smirk pulls at one side of the detective’s lips at your words. That he did know. There was no way Wonwoo would put this much effort into keeping you alive if you were. Letting go of the folder, Seungcheol takes a step back and glances back to Wonwoo as he grunts, bending the phone in his hand with some effort. The screen shatters first and then the metal gives way, effectively destroying the device before he tosses it towards the river, listening to the dull thud when it hits the surface. 

“That bullshit is done. He’s satisfied with what you came up with.” 

Scoffing, Seungcheol shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling a bit offended at the insinuation that anyone wouldn’t be satisfied with his work. He had gone above and beyond for this. You had been lucky that the information you had provided for him had been the best he had received in a long time. It had served as motivation for what Seungcheol saw as a work of art. 

“Yeah? Well maybe you should have dealt with pulling a Jane Doe out of the morgue.” 

Wonwoo exhales an unamused laugh, sliding his hand around your waist. He knew that Seungcheol had worked hard and he appreciated it. He could almost taste freedom and it was a strange sensation. 

“No thanks. I’ll leave that to the professionals.” Leaning to kiss the side of your head, Wonwoo gives you a once over before glancing back at the car, seeing it packed. “Ready to go?” 

You had no idea where you and Wonwoo were going. He and Seungcheol told you that in case things went south, it was better for you to know less. While you understood that, it still made leaving your entire life behind even more terrifying. Still, as you meet Wonwoo’s eyes, seeing that reassuring look in them, you manage to nod. 

“Perfect, can’t wait to get you both out of my hair.” 

Wonwoo grins at Seungcheol’s words, knowing that while he was trying to crack a joke, there was a layer of truth to them, especially concerning himself. 

“Don’t worry, Cheol. We won’t darken your doorstep again.” 

Taking a step backwards, towards his own car, Seungcheol points at Wonwoo as he speaks. 

“I’ll fuckin’ hold you to it. Show your face around here again and I’ll throw your ass in a cell.” 

Shaking his head, Wonwoo turns his attention back to you, reaching to open the passenger's side door. He lets you sit down as he looks down at you, much like he did a week ago under much different circumstances. 

“Where are we going, Wonwoo?” 

You watch curiously as he tilts his head and purses his lips, trying to think of how to tell you the answer without actually answering it. 

“Did you pack a bikini?” 

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[spideyjimin]

what was i made for | jk

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader 

⏤ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, and smut 

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ warnings: a tiny bit of sad oc, alcohol consumption, oral sex (m receiving), swearing, some teasing, praising, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, creampie, and multiple orgasms 

⏤ words: 8,833

⏤ summary: have you ever met someone with whom you instantly clicked? well yes, but never to the extent of how it happened with jungkook. in a matter of days, he made you feel like the prettiest and most special woman. right there and then, you understood what you were made for. 

 ⏤ author’s note: hi loves! here you have this fic! it was a pleasure to write it since it's been a while that i haven't written fluffy fics. i hope you enjoy it & it's always a pleasure to know what you think about it! have a wonderful day & week ahead!

MASTERLIST

Turning 30 wasn’t exactly how you pictured it to be. Since a very young age, you thought that by this stage you’d be in a long-term relationship and probably a mother. As years passed by, you simply hoped that you’d be in a relationship but all the dates you endured the past year made you realize that it would never be the case. 

Being single has never made you sad, you actually always enjoyed being on your own. Being independent is something you always sought to have, and you deeply treasure having it. However, this is quite a milestone in life and this time, being alone has a bit of a bittersweet taste. And it hurts. Although, in a way, you try to convince yourself that it’s better to be alone than in a bad relationship. 

As you’re looking at the people sitting at the table, most of them are engaged or married or living together, or having a child. Before, it used to not hurt you but today, it’s quite hard to look at them all with happiness. Nonetheless, the reason why you’re all gathered today truly makes you happy. Your best friend, Jin proposed to his girlfriend, Iseul and they reunited all their close friends to announce the fantastic news. You’re the only one aware of this because he asked for your advice for the proposal. 

The only other person aware of this is Jimin, Iseul’s brother. Jin prefers to have his approval since they are very close. He also asked for her father’s approval as the gentleman that he is. You got to meet Iseul’s brother quite a lot of times and he’s definitely a sweetheart. Jin and Iseul tried to set you up but between you, there’s only friendship, nothing more. 

While looking, your eyes land on a man who catches your attention. He’s honestly quite handsome, a kind of handsome you’ve never seen before. He looks innocent without looking innocent. It sort of doesn’t make sense but that’s how you’d describe him. Looking at his cute features makes him look quite innocent but then, his vibe definitely breathes ‘not innocent’. Maybe it’s caused by his short haircut. You’re not sure although that’s how you perceive him. 

For sure, you’re convinced that he’s probably already in a relationship. Guys like him are usually taken. They don’t stay single for a long time, they easily charm every person around them, and they can find their person quite fast. Your eyes meet and he offers you a little smile, one that you return. 

“Hey guys,” Jin says a little louder to get everybody’s attention. “Today, Iseul and I gathered you here to share some wonderful news.” 

A bright smile appears on your face. 

Iseul shows her left hand with her engagement ring and points it out. “We’re getting married,” she yells with evident joy. 

Everybody starts congratulating them for their engagement, and they all seem extremely happy with this announcement. It warms your heart to be a part of this big step in their lives. Getting married is quite something, and you’re deeply and truly happy for them. 

During the dinner, you find out that the hot guy’s name is Jungkook. He’s actually Iseul’s cousin. Him and Jimin are quite close. Jimin frequently mentions him and you’ve heard many stories about them. It’s great to finally put a face on a name. Especially since he’s a very good looking man. 

At some point, you realize that everybody is discussing in the living room, except for you, Jimin, and Jungkook. Throughout the evening, they slowly moved, leaving you alone with them. You’re having a very animated conversation about desserts. 

“Tiramisu is the best dessert ever,” you say. “There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”

They are trying to convince you that chocolate mousse or lemon cheesecake are much better than anything else. For sure, those are good desserts but not as good as a tiramisu. Nothing will ever beat a good old tiramisu. 

“Pff, you’re saying nonsense, yn,” Jimin replies. 

You roll your eyes which makes Jungkook laugh. Honestly, it’s been fantastic to interact with them. They are super funny, they have a very good dynamic. Through that, you get to see that Jungkook isn’t just pretty on the outside, he definitely seems to have a good heart. That convinces you even more that this man isn’t single at all. A man like him isn’t on the market anymore. A lucky girl must be waiting for him at home.      

“Every word that leaves my mouth is only the truth,” you say with a little smirk on your face. 

Both men laugh even more. They aren’t convinced at all that you only say the truth, they actually don’t agree with you that tiramisu is the best dessert ever. 

“You’re very funny, yn!” Jimin says.  

You roll your eyes once more but you’re simply happy to share this moment with them. They manage to make you forget how sad you’ve been feeling for the past month. It’s been hard but you’ve been trying to cheer yourself up because it’s a feeling that is not easy to deal with. 

“I quickly need to go to the bathroom,” Jimin adds. 

You and Jungkook simply nod before your friend leaves you alone. For a brief moment, there’s a little silence between you but it’s not an awkward one. Then, his eyes meet yours with a little smile on his face. 

“I’m happy to finally meet the girl Iseul tried to set Jimin up with,” he says. 

“Oh, you heard about that,” you reply with a smile appearing on your face. 

“Of course,” he responds. “Iseul talked so much about it, she really wanted you to be together.” 

She told you that a million times but you and Jimin weren’t meant to be together. At least that’s what you believe. There’s a lot of love and respect between you but it will never be more than that. He’s simply a close friend. A friend you’re more than grateful to have in your life.  

“She’s terrible!” you shake your head with a little smile on your face. “I don’t get why she had to tell everybody about it.” 

For sure, it annoys you a bit that she had to tell the world she wanted you to be with her little brother. But she’s one of your bestest friends, and you cherish her friendship more than anything else. It was such a sweet gesture to try to help you out with your love life.  

Then, right there, you see in his eyes the pity appearing. He doesn’t need to say anything else for you to understand what he’s going to say. They all give you that look when they’re about to say that you’re single. 

“She wants to help her dear friend to find someone,” he mumbles. 

Your eyes glance down at your hands. It’s better that he doesn’t see the sadness appearing all over your face. Even though it comes from a good intention, it makes you feel like a pathetic girl that isn’t able to find someone, especially when you’re talking about it with a handsome man. 

“She’s also been wanting to do it with me,” he adds. “She keeps saying that a soldier shouldn’t be single. It doesn’t make any sense to me but I guess she simply adores setting people together.” 

A smile appears on your face before you look up. In a way, you feel like he said that to cheer you up but it still feels nice that he tried to not make you feel alone. However, you’re a bit surprised to hear that he’s a soldier. You would have never imagined him serving in the military. 

“Probably,” you reply. “But in my case, it’s mostly out of pity because I’m 30 and still single. All our friends are in relationships, married or parents.” 

“I’m sure that’s not the reason,” you instantly say. “Iseul is like that, she loves to help.” 

You take a deep breath, he’s absolutely right but it’s becoming heavy to be the only single one out of all your friends. Every single friend of yours present here is in a relationship. Most of them are already married, and a couple of them are parents. It’s not easy to look around and see everybody succeeding on all those aspects in life. The only thing you can brag about is your career. 

And because of all that, sometimes you wonder what you are made for.

“I know she just wants to help because she’s aware of how heavy the pressure from society can be,” you tell him. “And it has been quite heavy since I turned 30. It’s hard to look around and see everybody getting married or buying their houses or announcing a pregnancy while I’m extremely far from achieving that.” 

Jungkook nods. You’re not convinced he can understand you, you’re not sure he’s even single as he’s claiming. Society treats men and women completely differently. For a man, it’s totally okay to not be married or to have a child by the age of 30. It’s even remarkable if they put their careers first. But you’re fully aware that everything isn’t rainbows and sunshines for men as well. 

Nonetheless, it is surprising how comfortable this man has made you feel. This morning, you weren’t even aware of his existence, and now, you’re talking about how you’ve been feeling. What you ignore is that it's a shared feeling.

“I’m sorry to be talking about my problems,” you say. 

“No, no,” he says. “Don’t worry at all about that!” 

You swiftly start discussing other topics. At some point, you find yourself wondering where Jimin is but he has discreetly joined the others in the living room, leaving you alone. He noticed the way you were deeply talking, and he didn’t want to disturb you. For sure, you appreciated the opportunity because you got to learn a bit more about Jungkook. 

After the engagement party of Iseul and Jin, you exchanged numbers with Jungkook and since then, you’ve been spending your days texting him. It has been making you extremely happy. He’s making you feel seen, a sensation that has been absent from your life for a while. Not all the men you dated elicited that feeling in you, but it’s also not something new. However, right now, you don’t want to think about the ex that provoked that feeling.  

What you truly appreciate about Jungkook is the fact that he always warns you when he will take some time to reply. He always tells you when he’s going to do a certain thing that will cause him to go to sleep at 4 am and that he won’t be able to reply. Nonetheless, he always texts you before going to sleep, no matter the time. 

“How are things going with my cousin?” Iseul asks while you’re walking to her car. 

It truly amazes you how this woman ends up discovering everything when it comes to the dating life of someone. 

“How do you know?” you inquire. 

A smirk appears on her face. 

“Well, at my engagement party, you were all over each other, which made me extremely happy, to be honest,” she explains. “Since then, you’ve been smiling like an idiot all the time, and your phone crazily buzzes. It’s not complicated to understand that you two are flirting.” 

The word ‘flirting’ violently hits you. You never considered that you were flirting but now that she’s saying it out loud, it definitely is the truth. 

“I should have thought about trying to set you up together,” she says. 

You roll your eyes while shaking your head. She’s always thinking about setting people together but that’s one of her charms. She’s always so considerate of people around her, she wants people to be happy. 

“Maybe if you had that idea, it would have never worked,” you reply. 

The thought of being set up with Jungkook is weird because you adore the way things started between you. You can’t imagine it any other way. Now, you’re simply grateful he’s part of your life. For the past month, he’s been contributing a lot to your happiness, and you only hope that it’ll be the case for a long time. 

“Probably,” she quickly replies, “but I’m glad you’re talking and discovering each other,” she adds. “You deserve more than anyone else to be happy.” 

She takes you in a heartfelt hug, one that warms your soul. She’d noticed how sad you’d been since you turned 30, and it shattered her heart to see you like that. She’s seen how hard it has been for you to not find your person even though you said the opposite. She could see the pain behind the smile you were always showing. 

She’s fully aware that being in a relationship doesn’t determine the person you are, but she knows how it can sometimes make you feel lonely. When it happens, it hurts, and not just a bit. Iseul admires you. You’re so independent, you don’t rely on anybody else. Most of the time, when she needs to go somewhere, she calls somebody to not be alone because she hates that feeling. 

She drops you out at your place, and you enjoy a bit of your time alone at home. After being out with Iseul, you need a few hours of rest. Honestly, she exhausted you. Thankfully, tomorrow is Sunday and you’re planning on staying at home the full day. But someone ruins your moment alone by ringing at the door. 

As you open the door, you’re graced with a man holding a massive bouquet of flowers. 

“Ms y/l/n?” the man raises as he takes the bouquet down. 

“Yes,” you reply and frown. 

“This is a delivery I have for you,” he hands you the bouquet. “Can you please sign here?”

“Let me just put the bouquet down, please,” the man nods while you place the bouquet on your table. 

You come back real quick and sign the receipt. The man leaves, you close the door, and go to the living room to take a proper look at the bouquet. It’s a very impressive one but it’s definitely a wonderful one. There’s a little card on it which intrigues you. Who could possibly send it? 

‘A wonderful bouquet for the most wonderful woman, Jungkook. Ps: sorry I couldn’t hand it myself to you.’ 

Your heart melts right there. This man is slowly but surely making you fall in love with him. The bouquet is so pretty, it’s actually the prettiest a man has ever given to you. It’s for sure a pity he couldn’t have given it himself, you would have wanted him to be here with you right now. Nevertheless, it’s still a magnificent gesture. One that you’ll cherish for a long moment.

Jungkook is on a special mission this weekend which prevents him from returning home. Usually, he only works during the week but there was an unexpected event this weekend. To be honest, it kind of broke your heart because you were eager to spend some time with him. Since he works and sleeps in the barracks during the week, the only time you get to see him is the weekend. 

Being away from you doesn’t prevent him from speaking with you and calling you every day, but it’s very different from being together. Nonetheless, you feel like it also helps to build a stronger connection. Once you get to see each other, you try to get the most out of it.  

You grab your phone and send him a message. Jungkook told you that his phone will remain at the quarters and that he wouldn’t be able to speak with you. So calling him will be useless, it’s best to leave a message that he’ll see when he’s back. 

That night, you fell asleep with the brightest smile. Jungkook has been making you feel so special since the moment you met him. There’s no doubt that you’ll try to keep him around as long as possible. 

The next Monday, after leaving work, you find Jungkook at the main entrance. After this intense and tough work day, it definitely makes your day a hundred times better. As soon as he sees you, he smiles and walks in your direction to meet you halfway. While getting closer to him, you notice that he’s wearing his military uniform. The first thought that crosses your mind is that he came straight after leaving the barrack. In a way, it warms your heart he did it, however, you can’t help but think of how tired he must be. 

Also, seeing him with the uniform makes you weak. It’s the first time you’re seeing him for real wearing it, and let’s just say that he’s more than fine. Without sounding too horny, you’d even say that you’d open your legs right now if he’d ask.  

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say once you’re right in front of him. “What are you doing here?” 

The man in front of you kisses your cheek, causing shivers all over your body. Your smile grows bigger. This part of your life is filled with so much happiness, something you wouldn’t have imagined a couple of months ago when you turned 30. It’s so surprising how life can completely change in a second. Meeting Jungkook has drastically changed your life but you wouldn’t have wanted it in any other way. 

“Hello, yn,” his eyes don’t leave yours. “Just wanted to see your pretty face since I couldn’t for the past week.” 

Your cheeks instantly turn red but you take the compliment. Your eyes are lost in his, people around you completely disappeared. It’s just you and him. For a brief moment, his eyes look down at your lips yet you don’t notice it otherwise you would have maybe kissed him. His right hand caresses your cheek causing your eyes to close for a split second. 

“There’s a nice bar/coffee place where I’d like to take you,” he breaks this intimate moment with his words. 

You nod. He takes your hand to guide you until the place he’s talking about. It’s actually not too far from your workplace. As you step inside, you can’t help but find it extremely cozy. There are quite a few people, not a lot but still. At the end, you notice there’s a photobooth. A couple is leaving it with a bright smile on their faces before they check out the pictures they took. As you see them, you desire nothing more than to try it with Jungkook. It’ll create great memories. 

“Could we take pictures in the photobooth?” you ask pouting to get what you want. 

The man holding your hand doesn’t resist so he nods. A broad smile spreads across your face, filling you with happiness that he accepted. Now, you’re the one guiding him to the end of the bar. He’s also smiling as it brings a lot of joy to him to be with you right now. It’s his only free day of the week, and all he wanted was to be with you. You’ve brightened his life the second you appeared. 

When you open the curtains to get inside the little cabin, you freeze as you realize that there’s only a small stool. But before you say anything, Jungkook gets inside, sits on the tool and places you on his lap. It definitely surprises you but it also warms your heart. You close the curtain before taking a look at the man that has been making your heart beat for the past month. 

“Since we’re here,” he starts. 

You notice a little bit of nervousness in his eyes, and for some unknown reason, it increases the pace of your heartbeat. 

“The reason I wanted to bring you here,” he’s clearly nervous, especially since you’re really close to him. “Because I wanted to ask you if you’d want to become my girlfriend.” 

Now, for sure, your heart is beating like crazy and at the same time melting at his words. It’s incredibly adorable that he actually raised the question, none of your exes did it previously. On top of it, he looks absolutely charming. This man owns your heart. Honestly, it means the world that he took the time to raise the question. At least, it will be official the second you say ‘yes’. 

Since he’s scared to be rejected, he starts to fill the void. “It’s my only day off and all I wanted was to see you to ask...” Before he can even finish his sentence, you gently press your lips on his while grabbing his face in your hands. It’s a simple smack but one that says a thousand words. One that finally happens after all those weeks of flirting. One that finally resumes how you’ve been feeling. Hopelessly in love. 

“Yes,” you reply when you break the kiss. 

The largest and most radiant smile lights up his face. His smile is quite contagious as you smile back at him. The two of you are simply and utterly filled with happiness. Jungkook presses his lips on yours for a passionate kiss. 

The kiss is sweet and tender, there’s no rush or anything else in it. This moment has been desired by the two of you for a little while already. His strong arms wrap tighter around you almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear.  

His lips are so soft on yours, the tenderness of the kiss making your heart melt completely. Never a man has kissed you like that. Your heart is pounding extremely hard on your chest while the butterflies on your lower stomach are making you feel completely alive. 

Your little hands cup his face while you kiss him passionately. There’s absolutely no doubt that he’s a good kisser. This first kiss with him will for sure be a memorable one unless he gets even better at kissing with time. Out of breath, you break the kiss. 

“Maybe we should take those pictures before people throw us out of here,” you say. 

Jungkook nods before inserting a coin. In a matter of seconds, the little screen shows that you should press play, and he follows the instruction. You strike a first pose, you’re both looking at the camera with a gleaming smile. For the second pose, Jungkook presses a kiss on your cheek which makes you blush. For the third one, he kisses you tenderly. 

This will be without any doubt a memorable day. 

Once the kiss is over, you leave the little cabin. Two sets of pictures are printed. You grab them and hand one to Jungkook. Your eyes stare at the pictures, they are wonderful. For you, they clearly show the way you feel about each other. The way Jungkook makes you happy. The way you love him. 

For the past 3 months, you’ve been in a relationship with Jungkook. It’s a bit odd to be dating a soldier. Honestly, you always kind of had a bad image of them when it comes to relationships. Yes, they are brave, and it’s truly admirable that they sacrifice themselves for the nation. But you always believed they were womanizers, something that your boyfriend has been proving you wrong. He’s actually far from being a Don Juan. Iseul has also mentioned it a million times. 

As you noticed, even if he’s assertive when it comes to you, he’s actually quite reserved. Hence, he never had a lot of girlfriends. It’s difficult for him to approach women but he confessed that with you, it was easy. He felt that he could be himself without feeling judged. He felt that he didn’t need to hold back to impress. He felt that he could simply be Jungkook. Sometimes, you feel that his shyness and his job are simply contradictory. But for you, it’s what makes him special. 

Today, Jungkook gets to leave the barrack a bit earlier and he invites you to spend the night at his place. Quite frankly, you’re a bit nervous. Lately, your conversation almost always deviates in a way into sex, you’re grateful to have those conversations. However, you realize that one day, you’ll make love. You haven’t done anything so far, even oral sex. None of you has really made it happen even though it’s quite obvious that there’s a massive physical attraction. 

Having sex is making you nervous because it’s been a while since you last did it. Of course, it’s naturally something you crave but you’re scared to be bad at it. You’re scared that this first time together will be a disaster which you don’t want. You don’t want it to be perfect too. All you want it to be is pleasurable.  

When you’re at the door of the building complex, you ring the doorbell. He lets you in so you take the elevator to reach the 5th floor. Jungkook is living in a little building complex, it only has 5 floors so his apartment is on the last floor. Per floors, there aren’t many apartments which makes this little complex quite cozy. When you reach the 5th floor, you walk until the door of his apartment. The door is a tiny bit opened, you still knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Jungkook screams. 

You do as he says, but you make sure to close the door behind you. The apartment is plunged into darkness, except it is lit with candles a bit everywhere. There are petals indicating you the path to follow, this is incredibly romantic. As you reach the living room, you notice that a table was put in the middle with dinner already served. Next to the table, Jungkook is standing tall with a bright smile on his face. In his hand, he’s holding a bouquet. It’s a pretty massive one but a wonderful one.

He looks absolutely stunning. 

Even in the darkness of the room, you can see how handsome he looks, and honestly, as long as he’s smiling, he looks stunning to you. With Jungkook, it’s not only about the looks. Most of the time, you find him stunning on the inside. The way he brings you comfort, the way he takes care of you, the way he treats you makes him absolutely handsome. His extremely hot physique is only an extra.   

A smile instantly appears on your face as you walk in his direction. 

“This is your monthly bouquet,” he says while handing you the bouquet. 

You take it, while plunging your nose in it to smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers. The bouquets that he chooses always have the best perfume. Your apartment always smells like heaven, and the sweet fragrance of flowers is something that you now associate with Jungkook. 

“This time around you went out of your way to offer them,” you teasingly say. 

The smile on your boyfriend’s face grows bigger. He looks particularly glowy today, something special irradiates from him. He breaks the tiny little space between you, you move the bouquet to your right so Jungkook doesn’t smash it as he gets closer to you. His right hand rests on your back, drawing you nearer to him. You look up at him, your faces barely away from each other, and before you can even comprehend he crashes his lips on yours for a gentle kiss. 

“I’ll do everything to make my girlfriend happy,” he whispers against your lips. 

Those words free some little butterflies in your stomach, and you can’t help but smile at his words. Never before have you been this happy. You rest your head against his chest. Every day for the past months, you’ve been feeling extra lucky. Jungkook holds you tight in this heartfelt embrace. 

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you mutter. 

Even if you thought he didn’t listen to you, he did but said nothing. All he did was smile like an idiot and feel even more grateful to have met you. 

His entire life he thought he’d never manage to find someone because it’s been hard to find someone that looks beyond his body. Every girl that he meets simply wants to have sex with him. The combo of being in the military and having a buff body has attracted many girls, but they crave something that he doesn’t want. Plus, he’s also quite shy so he feels awkward every time he’s around a good-looking girl.  

But he fell hard for you. And every day, he falls even harder, something he never thought possible. 

He presses a gentle kiss on your head. “We should start eating before it gets too cold,” he informs you. You nod before breaking apart from him. 

He suggests putting the flowers on the little coffee table that he put in one corner. You look once more around you, it astonishes you how wonderful his place looks when being lit up by candles. Jungkook takes the time to admire his marvelous girlfriend, you. You’re wearing a light pastel orange dress, it’s a nice dress you found in Zara. A bit expensive but a pretty one for a date. 

The dinner goes quite well, but you both drink a lot of wine. To some extent, it was a way for you to relax a bit, you’re quite obviously a bit nervous. Your boyfriend notices it. However, he understands it. The sexual conversations have turned him on, and his girlfriend is extremely sexy. Every time he lays eyes on you, he can’t help but think that you’re the sexiest woman he has ever seen. Even his exes don’t even get close to how sexy you are. 

And that dress you’re wearing, uff… he can’t even think properly. 

Jungkook is aware that you haven’t shared an intimate moment with a man in a while so he perfectly understands your nervousness. His last intercourse happened like 8 months ago, it was with a girl Iseul was trying to set him up with. Needless to say, a couple of days later, it ended. 

As the gentleman that he is, he doesn’t try anything nor does he say anything sexual. His priority is to make you feel safe around him. He can wait, there are other ways to relieve himself while he patiently waits for you to be ready. On your side, you’re genuinely thankful he exhibits great patience with you.  

In the end, you ended up falling asleep in his bed with him. Both of you wanted to spend the night together. For sure, you’re aware that there are some chances that you end up making love but with the alcohol in your system, it kind of makes you less nervous about it. 

In the middle of the night, you’re both woken up by a strange noise. At first, it definitely seems weird but quickly, the noise is accompanied by moans. You blush as you realize that Jungkook’s neighbors are having sex. You hide yourself under the blanket, and it makes Jungkook chuckle. 

“It’s not funny,” you tell him. 

“It is,” he says as he joins you under the blanket. 

There’s barely any light so you can’t properly see him. 

“It’s so embarrassing to hear people making love.” 

“Why so?” he raises. 

“Because it’s supposed to be an intimate moment and knowing that neighbors can hear you destroys the intimacy of the moment,” you answer. 

A little smile appears on his face. He undoubtedly finds you extremely adorable, and it’s incredibly obvious that it’s been a while since your last intercourse. When it comes to sex, sometimes, he feels like he’s older than you due to the obvious fact that he has some more experience. In reality, you’re older than him but most of the time, it doesn’t feel like it.     

“They don’t even realize that,” he says.  

“How could they? I mean, they should know that they are being loud.” 

“They are enjoying the moment and not realizing that they are moaning a bit too loud,” he adds. “Don’t you remember the last time you made love?” he asks. “Normally, you’re so absorbed that you don’t even comprehend if you’re making too much noise or not.”   

For a minute, you think about it. He’s not wrong, when you’re in the moment, you only care about the pleasure, not about the noises nor how dirty sex can be. It’s just you and your partner. 

“They definitely sound like they’re having fun,” he teasingly adds. 

You know that he’s trying to lighten the mood but you’re still slightly embarrassed. You try to relax a bit, this is a natural thing. Couples make love, even strangers have sex for fun. In any case, it’s normal. There’s no need to be ashamed or embarrassed. 

“For sure,” you reply with a little smile. 

Jungkook is glad that you’re replying to his little tease. Your boyfriend gets a little closer to you, his hand caressing your arm. 

“Even under the blanket, we can perfectly hear them,” he retorts. 

You chuckle at his words. You’re grateful that he’s trying to make you feel comfortable. For you, it proves once more how beautiful on the inside he is. 

“But let me tell you that they are even louder during the day,” he tells you. “They make love a lot of time.” 

“Oh, so you’ve been listening to this quite a lot?” you ask. 

“Yep,” he simply says. “On a Friday evening, when I come back from the army, I get to hear them all night long to my greatest delight. And don’t be here on a Sunday…” 

Now, it’s a little laugh that escapes your lips. This sound is what warms your boyfriend’s heart. He loves to hear you laugh, and what he adores more is to see the way your face lights up. Right now, he can’t see your face well so he pictures it.   

“It mustn't be funny,” you say. “It also explains why we barely come here.”

“Eeeh, you finally get it,” he states. 

His hand moves higher to reach your cheek and he keeps doing some circles to shoote you. It certainly works. 

“They are always on fire so it’s better to avoid being here,” he adds. “Especially when I was single.” 

“So now that you’re not single, it’s easier?” you ask while raising an eyebrow. 

A smile appears on his face. Having you has made everything easier. And for sure, it’s less of a torture to hear his neighbors having sex because all he can think about is you.

“For sure, I can think of my wonderful girlfriend to distract myself from this torture.”   

Now, your hand moves to his cheek to caress it. Your boyfriend closes his eyes when your soft fingers touch him. 

“I still don’t get how such a wonderful man like you had trouble finding someone,” you express. 

His hand places a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Nice men have trouble finding someone,” he informs you. “Girls usually prefer bad boys over a guy that treats them right. I was shy too so it definitely didn't help and being in the army only attracted women who wanted sex. I was never interesting enough.” 

You can hear his voice breaking at the end. It hurts to hear those words, especially coming from a man with a golden heart. In just over 3 months, he has made you feel so special like no other man has before. 

But he only states the truth. Most girls chase bad boys, almost as if they hope to change them into nice boys but it’s never the case. They always end up breaking their hearts. Nice men are not seen enough, and it breaks your heart, especially since now you’re dating one. 

“You are more than interesting, Jk,” you say. 

You press a soft kiss on his lips. 

“You’re the first girl that truly sees me for who I am.” 

This breaks your heart even more. Jungkook deserves the world, and he deserves more than anybody else to be happy. 

“And you’re the first man that truly sees me for who I am,” you instantly tell him. 

His neighbors are still making love but now you don’t hear them, you are simply absorbed by each other. There’s only you. The world around you completely disappeared. 

Now, it’s Jungkook who presses a gentle kiss on your lips. His lips are so soft on yours, the tenderness of the kiss making your heart melt completely. However, this gentle kiss slowly turns into a passionate and fervent one. A kiss that speaks a thousand words. A kiss that says that you love each other. A kiss that makes you both feel seen. It’s a kiss that you both craved for years.  

You’re deeply kissing each other, and by the looks of it, this kiss is for sure going to take a heated turn. A turn that both of you want. You’ve been obviously nervous about this but right now, there’s nothing more that you crave. Your only wish right now is to feel even more loved by this wonderful soldier. 

His impatient hands move down to your waist to bring you even closer to him. They run up and down your waist, making you more than happy to have his large tattooed hands on your body. Your hands, on the other side, go to his hair to softly run through it. 

“I’ve fallen so hard in love with you, yn,” he says as he breaks the kiss. 

As much as you can, you look at him with an idiot smile on your face. There are millions of fireworks inside you caused by what he just said. There’s no more doubt that you’re madly in love with this man. He owns your heart. 

“Maybe not as much as I did,” you add.       

Jungkook presses a peck on your lips before he kisses the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, causing little moans to escape your mouth each time his lips touch your skin. Jungkook is making you feel alive and also driving you into complete euphoria. Even though you’re starting to get lost, you’re slowly realising what is about to happen. You’re going to make love with your boyfriend.  

In the end, there was no reason to feel nervous to share an intimate moment with your boyfriend. He loves you. And he will obviously do everything to help you feel good.  

He drops his head to your neck, kissing the base of your throat. You moan as he starts leaving a trail of kisses, the feeling of his mouth on your throat is divine. Everything he does exceeds all your expectations. Regardless of your nervousness, you of course dreamt of what it would be to have sex with him. So far, he’s undoubtedly surpassing all of your expectations.  

Your hands run through his hair, tugging at the roots. A moan escapes his pretty lips, his voice vibrating against your skin. This slowly starts to feel like heaven. His lips move up again to meet yours for another fervent kiss. 

“It’s getting too hot under this blanket,” he affirms. 

“Yep,” you manage to say. 

Jungkook removes the blanket from your bodies, and you can finally see him somewhat better. His short hair looks messy, causing a bright smile to appear on your face. Instantly, the urge to run your fingers through his hair comes across your mind. There’s no need to say that you did it, and that he loved feeling your fingers in his hair. 

“You’re breathtakingly beautiful,” he whispers while his eyes scan your face. 

“Thanks, Jk,” you smile at him. “And you’re the prettiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

The way you both make each other feel is so indescribable but you’re absolutely sure to have found the right person. You make each other feel special. 

“I want to make love to you, yn,” he lets you know. “I’m craving you so much.” 

You kiss him. You also crave him in an unimaginable way. His large hands caress your waist while you both look intensely at each other before you uncover your bodies frim the blanket. In a matter of seconds, you’re fully naked in front of each other. Your eyes glance down at his cock. In all honesty, it’s quite big.

“It’s massive,” you look up at him. “How have you been hiding it in your pants?” he giggles at your words.

“That’s something that I’ve been wondering every day for the past 3 months,” he says, clearly making you understand that he gets pretty hard around you every day. 

Without any warning, you wrap your hand around the base of his dick. This sudden move surprises him which causes him to whimper. Your eyes watch down at his impressive crotch. The head is red, precum running down his length and over that prominent vein that lines it. You rub your thumb over the tip before going down on his shaft, spreading his arousal all over him. A deep moan leaves his lips as your hands finally touch him, his head falling completely on the pillow.       

“Oh,” he growls. 

Slowly, you start pumping him, taking your time, your hand gliding up and down his length. A trail of groans leaves his lips while you pump him nice and slow, giving him a dreamy handjob. Every time your hand reaches the base, Jungkook shivers, loving deeply how you’re pleasing him.

Your boyfriend is a bit surprised by the fact that you’re doing this handjob quite amazingly. Sometimes, with your reactions when it comes to sex, he forgets that you had exes so for sure you have some experience. Maybe not a lot but it’s still something. And now, he’s realizing that you perfectly know how to do things.   

On your side, you want to give him more. You know your hand is just not enough, he needs more to come undone. So you dip down to kiss the head of his cock, his eyes instantly opening as this is unexpected. You lick his tip, his precum coating your wet muscle before you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down fully on his length. 

“Damn, yn,” he groans, loving the warmth of your mouth around him. He swears that he’s about to fall apart, covering your mouth with his cum. 

Your eyes look up to meet with his. The moment they lock ⏤ both your eyes completely filled with lust ⏤ he looks away, too scared to burst right there. As much as he’d love to fill your pretty mouth with his seed, he doesn’t want to come right now. There’s still so much to be done. 

“Love,” he says while his hand moves down to your hair, grabbing it before pulling your head a little. “I don’t want to come right now.” 

Your lips leave his length, letting it slap against his lower abdomen before you crawl up his body to kiss him again languidly. Jungkook can taste his salty precum on your lips and he adores it. Damn, he loves everything about this moment with you. 

“Do you have a condom?” you whisper on his lips. 

“Of course, angel,” he replies. 

Well, he always has some condoms in his bedroom as well as in his wallet. He’s always prepared in case anything like this happens. Even if he adores you, there’s no way that he’s doing it without protection. Your health is more important than anything else and also, it’s way too soon to take the risk of having a baby. 

While he stands up to grab a condom in a drawer of the nightstand, you lay on your back, your eyes looking up at the ceiling. Strangely, you feel extremely happy that you’re taking this step in your relationship. It’s creating a deeper connection between you. A very intimate bond. When Jungkook gets back on the bed with his condom in his hand, he bites his bottom lip. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he whispers, scanning every part of your body. You’re even prettier than in his dream. 

The man doesn’t waste any time ripping the plastic and putting the condom on his length. Honestly, you ignore what to do so you simply watch him. On his knees, he gets closer to your body and he slowly and delicately spreads your legs. For a brief moment, he gazes at your core, causing him to bite his lower lip. While holding his cock, he brushes it against your pussy to get you wetter. He wants you to be as wet as possible to be ready for him. 

“Can I?” he asks. 

It melts your heart that this man asks for your consent before going any further. Rare are the men who did it before. Once again, it proves to you that you found the right person.   

When you nod, he slowly buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his doe eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.  

“So good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back. 

You have to admit that it hurts a bit since it’s been a while since you last had sexual intercourse but the fact that he’s slowly filling you up to the brim helps. It gives time to your body to get used to this massive intrusion. But it feels so damn good to have him inside you. This is even better than in your wildest dreams. Jungkook leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you and snatching a loud moan out of you. 

“It feels so good, love,” his deep voice groans in your ear. “Even better than in my dreams.” 

The fact that he has been dreaming about this too gets you wetter. In a way, it makes sense to you since you’ve had some heated exchanges. You kiss his shoulder before giving it a gentle bite. 

“Oh, looks like the prude yn hides a wild side of her,” he teasingly says while pulling back a bit. 

“Good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught,” you sing, making reference to a band, 5 Seconds of Summer, that you love. 

“Couldn’t agree more with that sentence,” your boyfriend adds as he keeps pushing back to only leave the tip of his cock inside you. 

Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and a loud moan leaves your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes look down on your body. He’s surprised by how insanely perfect you are. Your body is for sure the prettiest one he has ever seen. 

Unlike what everyone thinks, he’s not fond of skinny bodies. He loves curves and imperfect bodies because they show life. They show that their owners eat to live, and your curves drive him crazy. He could come just by looking at your ass.  

His lips meet yours for a sloppy kiss before going down to your neck, leaving another trail of kisses on your skin. Needless to say, it makes you moan a bit more. Once he has tortured you enough, his eyes get lost in your body again, groaning as he watches himself buried deep inside you. 

“Uff, you’re driving me crazy, my love.”

You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. You’re completely euphoric at the feeling of him stretching your walls. Once he sees that you’re ready to take more, he pulls back brutally before slamming himself back into you. The bed under you squeaks, the headboard hitting the wall just behind you. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans quickly fill the room. 

“Jungkook,” you gasp while he thrusts into you.

This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming his cock. Jungkook smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re causing. You grip the sheets as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts. 

Neither of you can believe that this is happening tonight. In some way, you’re grateful that his neighbors started having some nasty time. Without them, probably nothing would have happened. You can’t even believe you were so nervous and embarrassed minutes ago. And now, you’re making love with the man you love.  

“You’re so wet, love,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. “And making such a mess on my cock.” 

Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way his cock is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, it is as if your bodies were made for each other.  

Jungkook bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he proudly swallows. His hands go up to your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his mouth goes down on your body to play with your nipples. 

“It feels so good,” you whine. 

His thrusts are slow and harsh again, and his teeth on your nipples are just too much for you. Gradually, Jungkook begins to thrust hard into you again, and you moan at the feeling of his brutal thrust. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. Everything that your boyfriend does pushes you closer and closer to the edge. 

His eyes look up at you, contorting with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Little moans keep flooding out of your mouth, and Jungkook is adoring to hear you moan. His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further. He just knows how to pleasure you perfectly like he became a master of your body in just some minutes.   

“Your cunt is clenching so hard, love,” he says when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him

As you glance up at him, you can’t help but find him extremely attractive. His eyes stare down at you with passion and lust as his tongue licks his lower lips. He simply can’t believe that this is really happening. He can’t believe that he’s making love to the prettiest woman in the world. He leans forward once more to press another sloppy kiss on your lips. He loves to feel your lips on his, even if the kiss is a disaster. 

“Oh my god,” you barely manage to say while you have a first orgasm. Your body shakes crazily, and Jungkook is happier than ever to see you being overwhelmed by pleasure.   

The vision of you coming undone makes his cock twitch inside of you. However, he wants you to experience more orgasms. There’s no way that he’s going to end this moment without having you come more than once. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot. 

To be honest, this action only makes your orgasm more intense and longer. Your arousal completely covers his cock and your walls squeeze him over and over again. This is heaven for him. He could stop right now and he’d be more than happy because he gave you a lot of pleasure. 

He speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you. The coil in his lower stomach tightens inside of him, and it completely clouds his thoughts. His increase in pace causes you to have a second orgasm in a matter of seconds.  

Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you’re making on his cock. A desperate moan leaves his mouth when his orgasm hits him hard. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load inside the condom. He collapses next to you, both of your bodies covered in sweat after this intense sex session. Your heavy breathing is now the only thing that can be heard in your bedroom. 

Jungkook throws the condom on the floor before laying again next to you on his bed. His eyes look at you with marvel. You’re so damn wonderful. 

“Uff, love! This was something,” he says as he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Did you enjoy it?”

Even though you had 2 orgasms one after the other, he still wants to make sure that you loved this steamy session. 

“Of course!” you directly answer. 

Your lips find his for a little kiss. 

“I’m glad to hear that!” a bright smile appears on his face. 

As you look at your delighted boyfriend, you feel a wave of happiness wash over you. Yep, this is what you’ve been desiring for years. Being this in love and sharing such a wonderful intimate moment with the person you love is what you’ve been looking for. 

Right there and then, you comprehend what you were made for. You were made to fall in love with Jungkook.

[finniestoncrane]

HELLO I'm in love with the way you write for Cooper 😩👏💝fix idea: I was thinking he's DEFINITELY somebody who doesn't care who he looks anymore, but is still aware that he's got that CHARM yano, but maybe the reader is just "wow your eyes are so pretty" and he fuckin BLUSHES (Mr cooper Howard aka Mr ghoul cowpoke absolutely keels over cus somebody said he was puuuurrtty) 💥💥💥🔫 just all "shut your pie hole girlie" and shes 😏😏😏 ok handsome

Can Ghouls Blush?

Cooper Howard x GN!Reader, word count: 1k aaaaah thank you ;-; also i love this, i love the idea of flustering that horrible boy omg 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: some threats (imean it's cooper), guns, mostly fluff though!

“I know time means very little to someone who has been around for two hundred years, but how much longer are you gonna be?”

Cooper’s voice echoed out from the main room of the abandoned building you had slept in. From the bathroom, you could hear the frustration, despite his attempts to soften it up. He had no time for fun, no time for relaxing. It was survival and sweating, or nothing at all. But you could tell he had tried to soften it up a little, just for you. His irritation was still so obvious however, even as he offered you a playful roll as he approached the door, catching your eye in the reflection of the cracked mirror.

“Just a sec, then we can head out.”

The old hairbrush you had found by the sink was a well-received miracle. A little bit of normality, a chance to tidy yourself up somewhat.

“I just think it’s a waste of time is all. Preening for the Wasteland. I mean, who are you trying to impress out there? You already got the best catch.”

He flicked the brim of his hat with his gloved fingers, grinning wide, yellowed teeth bared at you as he ran his tongue along his bottom lip.

“That’s exactly the problem. I have to make sure I look good to keep up with you, handsome.”

Your hand stroked along his cheek, a brief moment of eye contact as you walked past him towards the door of the bathroom and back out to the front of your temporary shelter.

“Handsome, huh?”

His voice seemed so much lighter now, more so than you had ever really heard before. And as you turned, you noticed the slight smile on his weathered lips, cheeks pulling up at the corners, eyes glinting as he stared straight back at you.

“Uh… yeah. You’re a very handsome guy, Coop.”

You almost had your fingers on the door knob, ready to leave for the start of your day, when you realised that you couldn’t feel Cooper’s presence behind you. Turning to see what was holding him up, you caught something in his eyes. A look of confusion, almost. Surprise. Disbelief. And a little bit of what you could swear was embarrassment. All this time together. Sleeping in each other’s arms, protecting each other from danger. Had you really never expressed to him your attraction? You had just assumed he knew. You spent long enough staring lustfully at him, it was surely a given. So you worried there was something else to it.

“What’s wrong, Cooper?”

“Nothing, I just… I was used to being called handsome, long time ago… not so much these days.”

As you stepped back towards him, closing the short distance, you could make out his expression much better, realising how astute your previous observation had been.

“Oh my god… Coop, are you blushing?”

He raised one finger, narrowing his brows as he tried to hide the endearing glee, offering you a forced stern look as he spoke.

“Don’t start playin’ stupid with me, you know I am not.”

Biting your lip, a mischievous smile forming, you gripped the lapels of his duster, teasing him as you stroked your thumb along one of his ridged, warm cheeks.

“Why, I didn’t even know big tough cowboys could blush, especially not the more ghoulish ones.” Can they blush? I'll need a closer look."

His fingers were tight around your wrist, gripping you fast and firm. He was trying so hard to maintain his tough exterior, but you could tell there was something softer in there that longed to come out, or at the very least, was desperate for someone to notice it. It was so obvious, even as he lowered his voice and growled at you.

“You turn around right now and start walkin’ out that door.”

Cooper took a step forwards, an attempt to regain his control of the situation, to push you towards doing his will, but you brought your hand up and laid your palm against his chest.

“Wait, just a second…”

It was nice to see him in this light. His confidence was always the dominant feature in his peronality, and it rarely wavered, if at all. But to know there were aspects of himself that he wasn't as sure of, and to know you could render him a little flustered just by complimenting them, made you smile. A grin that was returned by Cooper as you gazed into his warm, brown eyes.

"What is it you're lookin' for now, huh? You find it?"

"Yeah... turns out they can blush."

You turned quickly from him, practically skipping back towards the door of your temporary shelter, ready for another day of survival, this time tinted with a little more joy than usual. Your smile only grew wider as you heard Cooper, catching up with you, still trying to cover his embarrassment with the strained, empty aggressive threat that he chased you with.

"Now I will shoot you, you know that? You're pushing your luck today and we ain't even done anythin' yet."

But when he was certain you weren’t going to turn back around, he let himself smile a little. A soft glow in his eyes as he allowed himself to remember who he was, really. The kind of man that resided deep down inside, buried by years of solitude in the deep, dark ground, of struggling to adjust to the world. And struggling to adjust to himself. Even just a tiny reminder that, despite his charms and the charisma that tended to pull people in, that there was a bit of his old self left. That despite everything, despite who he had become, both physically and emotionally, someone might look at him with something other than fear first. With kindess, or lust. Or even love. That was enough to help him cling to the memories and look to the future with just the tiniest bit of hope, something he hadn’t felt in such a long time.

“You comin’, handsome?”

He smiled, biting his lip to curtail the spread of the easy grin.

“You bet.”

[euphemiaamillais]

innocent - coriolanus snow

you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…

cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering

an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭

perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.

you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.

it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.

'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.

you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.

'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.

you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.

‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.

you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.

‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.

‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.

‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’

you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.

‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.

you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.

‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.

but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.

‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.

‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.

‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’

his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.

‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.

‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.

his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.

‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.

how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.

‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.

his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.

‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.

‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.

‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.

he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.

perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…

you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.

coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.

he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.

‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.

you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.

coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he���d been flush against you.

‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.

you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.

‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.

‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.

you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.

‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.

his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.

—

your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.

you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.

‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.

‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.

you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.

‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.

‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.

you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.

‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.

you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.

your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.

you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.

‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.

‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.

‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.

‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.

you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.

he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.

coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.

‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.

you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.

your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.

but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.

‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.

you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.

coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.

‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…

you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.

his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.

sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.

he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.

‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.

‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.

he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.

‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.

‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.

the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.

‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.

you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.

he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.

he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.

it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.

‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’

‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’

you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.

‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.

more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.

‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.

the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.

‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?

‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.

he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.

he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.

he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.

‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.

coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.

he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.

he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.

‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’

[asunflowerana]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

summary: there's an competitor around, and the boys will make sure to let them know who's worthy of your heart.

with: inarizaki team (atsumu, osamu, aran, suna and kita)

n/a: better bring an ice bag for kai. boy's not in a good situation.

⊛ miya atsumu: the show off

It’s unusual for Atsumu to feel insecure. He comprehends how handsome, talented, funny (his brother would disagree) and charming he is,which explains how he became so popular in school. Heck, he even discovered not long ago that he has a fanclub going on online. Based on those facts, it’d be foolish for some boy to try to compete with him. However, that’s not enough to make Kai, one of your classmates, give up on you. And that surely does a good job on getting on the blonde’s nerves, but he’s not a quitter, especially with something — better yet, someone — he’s been wishing for quite a while. 

So, Atsumu uses his best weapon against the enemy: he shows off.

Seriously, that boy looks like a peacock, displaying all of his best features and abilities whenever you’re around, making sure that Kai also gets the hint. He praises you in every opportunity he finds, helps you carry your stuff, gives you sweets and snacks, and even tries to impress you with his physique, either by carrying something heavy, or randomly stretching his body or flexing his biceps. 

But the moment he shines is surely on his volleyball matches. This boy overflows with confidence, making the court his stage to glow, and winning not only the game but a sweet peck of your lips on his cheek, congratulating his win. He gives you a beaming smile, taking a second to cheekily wink at his opponent’s direction, before returning his gaze to the real prize. “It was all for ya, babe.”

⊛ miya osamu: the competitive

Osamu’s also very assured of himself, aware of his many qualities (his brother would disagree), but when he notices that someone wants what he wants, a key turns inside his brain and he becomes seriously competitive. With his grades, physique, food, even his own Ma became a victim of his impulsive behavior — he couldn’t back down though, or Atsumu would be the favorite. It’s not a surprise that you’d also be included on that list, being his crush for almost a year. 

To prove that he’s the best, he likes to challenge his opponents first. It can be anything, he might even let the person decide, but the rules remain the same: no cheating, and whoever loses must back off immediately. He can’t say he doesn’t feel a certain nervousness when he does those challenges; but when he compromises with something, you better be sure he goes to win. He’ll make sure of that.

And since Kai’s dumber than he looks like, it wasn’t a hard task to make the boy fall into his trap. After all, Osamu has a secret skill that most boys his age don't think it's important to get.

 “I know what you're trying with ______.” Osamu counters, having found the boy alone in the locker room after PE. Kai rolls his eyes at him, finishing drying his hair. “And what’re you gonna do about it ? I ain’t afraid of you, Miya.”

“Really?” He approaches his adversary, starting to size him with an unwavering stare. “Then ya must know she loves some homemade cookies. ‘was thinkin’ of baking her some this week.” He gives him the best smirk he has. “You're not afraid of that, are ya?”

⊛ aran ojiro: the intimidator

Aran is a lovely boy. Seriously, he has such good manners, so friendly and respectful with others, that you wish all the boys could have the same attitude. He knows that, and that’s just his personality; what he noticed though, is that many guys get intimidated by him, mostly because of his size and tone of voice. It was weird to acknowledge that in the beginning, but now he enjoys the respect he gained from that.

When he realized that some nidiot was trying to win you over, he thought: why not use that, then?

Don’t misunderstand, Aran doesn’t approve of bullying at all, and he would lift a hand to someone if it wasn’t necessary. But maybe, you know, a simple warning might convince the boy to give up. It doesn’t hurt trying.

“Hey, Kai!” Aran finds the boy eating at a table in the cafeteria, and without waiting to be invited, he sits down right next to him, placing his chair very close his. “How'ya doing man? Good? Great, listen up.” He puts one huge hand on the boy’s back, while giving him a too-friendly smile. “I like _____. But I saw you trying to ask her out yesterday. You see, it’s really hard to date a girl if someone else’s on the way, so can you do me a favor? Stay away from her.” Low and clear, Aran’s voice sends chills over the poor boy’s body. Then he grins, smacking Kai’s back like long-time friends. “Thanks, bud!”

⊛ suna rintaro: the cunning

Suna’s really clever. He knows how to be patient enough to turn any situation in his favor: for example, winning you over. He doesn’t know how long it will take, or how many steps and casualties his plan might have, but everything he does is solemnly meant to make you fall in love with him, little by little.It doesn’t matter if a stone called Kai gets in the way: he knows how to handle it.

No man is perfect, so all he needed to do was find a flaw in his opponent. It could be the most silly thing, but if it made Kai’s reputation fall just a tad, it’d become a jewel in Suna’s hands.

And after a few days of observing his opponent, Suna found out that dear Kai is a womanizer. Heck, he didn't even try to hide the fact that he’s been hitting on almost all of the girls in his class, which made Suna very pleased, being able to record him charming a girl in good sound and details.With all the evidence, Suna makes his master move, revealing the whole truth to you.

“It’s okay, ______.” And there he is, cradling you in his arms and caressing your hair gently, comforting you after you saw the video. “There’s a lot of guys like him here. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure that none of them come your way, if you let me” His smile grows when he receives your grateful words, feeling you melt into his arms like you meant to do. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’ll always be here for you.”

⊛ kita shinsuke: the modest

Shinsuke’s so secure. It doesn’t matter if the guy who’s trying to win you over is the most popular, handsome, or intelligent man in the country. No one can change the fact that Kita knows you, the true you, and he knows that you’re perfect for each other, even with the differences that some might point out. You have what he admires, and he surely has admirable traits to convince you. 

So all he does is treat you normally. Except that Kita’s normal is a very high level of manners and care that many boys in high school don’t even dream of having, including his opponent. 

After all, it is rare to find a boy who’ll willingly bring you your favorite warm drink before class on the cold days, or help you study on the library so you can do well on tests, or walk with you to the bus stop on the way home just to make sure that you’re safe, or even send texts and paper notes reaffirming how special and capable you are.

And you found Shinsuke, who does all of that, and so much more just to see you well. Is there really anyone who can compete with him? He doesn’t think so.

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[lewisvinga]

yo voy | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; lewis was used to having women throw themselves at him and try to seduce him for a night in bed. however, only one is able to have him completely wrapped around his finger.

warnings; mentions of drinking

word count; 788

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; ella hace todo por seducirme, yo voy voy voy

masterlist !

back to old school masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Lewis wasn’t stupid. He knew he was good-looking. He knew that the moment he stepped into a room, eyes would be on him. He knew that whenever he’d go to a club, women would try to grasp his attention.

Although he was used to women trying their hardest to get with him, he usually wasn’t fazed by them. Keyword; usually.

However, the smell of woody jasmine floral perfume paired with red lips that curled into a smile was quick to gain his attention.

Lewis was sitting in a booth with a few other drivers, celebrating yet again another race. Usually, he went out with another crowd but he couldn’t turn down an invite from his future teammate.

He was minding his business and listening in to the drunk driver's conversations while drinking a cup of almave when he noticed a girl clad in gold jewelry passing by him.

Her perfume was strong. A woody floral scent with hints of Jasmine and Saffron. He immediately recognized it as Baccarat Rouge. His eyes followed her as she walked to the bar, her long dark hair swaying behind her.

Lewis keeps his eyes on her, watching as she orders a drink. The moment her hand reached out to grab her fruity cocktail, she turned around and her eyes immediately met his. She brings the straw to her red-stained lips and takes a sip as the corner of her lips curl up into a smile.

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat for a second. He was used to women trying to talk to him, trying to buy him drinks, trying to be all over him and it never worked. Somehow a smile from across the club was enough to entice him.

Her outfit interested him as well. The plain black halter top and denim mini skirt were elevated by the stack of gold bangles decorating her wrists. She was covered head to toe in gold with multiple necklaces, gold hoops, and even gold embellishments on her black heels. Even her long acrylic nails had gold charms on them. The color suited her sunkissed skin that glimmered under the club's lights.

Y/n knew she already had him wrapped around her finger. She could tell by the way his dark brown eyes seemed to darken even more. He had his lips parted as she raised her finger and motioned him over. He didn’t even excuse himself from the group. He immediately got up to go to her leaving a group of drunken confused drivers.

“So, guapo [handsome], what’s your name?” She asked, bringing up her straw to her red-painted lips once again. He was still distracted, entranced by her even. He kept his eyes on her lips before meeting her eyes.

Lewis didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling like a nervous teenage boy. He was a man who emitted confidence. Hell, he was amazing with women. He didn’t know why with her he felt so nervous and aware of everything around him.

“I-“ He gulped, wiping his hands on his baggy jeans. He cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Lewis. What about yours, darling?”

She lets out a soft chuckle at him hiding his nervousness. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder before replying, “Y/n.”

Y/n leans in closer and brings her hand up to his shoulder, her golden bracelets clicking against each other in the process. “Y’know, you’re cute. Wanna get out of here?”

Usually, Lewis was never quick to agree to leave with someone, especially not a woman he met less than 5 minutes prior. However, her smile, her perfume, everything about her was seducing him. He couldn’t turn her down.

“I do actually.” He responded, the corner of his eyes crinkling up as he smiled at her. After all, being with her wasn’t a crime so who was he to deny her. She let out a hum of satisfaction and took one last sip of her drink.

“Vamos, guapo.” [let’s go, handsome.] Y/n swung her bag over her shoulder as her other arm reached for his arm.

Lewis glances back at the table he was sitting at and receives a thumbs-up from a drunk Charles. Her hand squeezing his muscular arms brought him back to reality as they made their way out of the crowded heated bar.

“Let’s go to my hotel, yeah?” He suggested, focusing on how her heels clicked with each step and how her nails clicked as she adjusted her jewelry.

Y/n noticed a braid had fallen over his face, escaping itself from being tied in a bun. She reached over and gently pushed it aside. “Sounds perfect to me, señor.”

[magiclostinfantasy]

Blind Date || Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: swearing, Draco trying to play matchmaker Summary: Y/N and Theo's friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they've secretly been dating.

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Theodore Nott did not go on blind dates, never felt the need to. He liked to believe that he could pull any girl he wanted. After all, who could resist that handsome face and Italian charm?

So, it came to him as a surprise when he found himself seated at Madam Pudifoot’s tea shop, sipping earl grey from a dainty, white teacup. He had been sitting at an intricately decorated table, looking like an idiot for the past fifteen minutes, waiting for his date.

Theodore wasn’t sure how he had let his friends convince him to go to this. He wasn’t sure why he had. He had a girlfriend for god’s sake- not that his friends knew. So, it really wasn’t their fault, he supposed.

His eyes scanned his surroundings, noticing all the lovey-dovey couples seated around him. He was painfully aware of how sad his situation looked. A handsome young boy sitting alone at a table for two in a restaurant full of happy couples. He groaned internally. Where the fuck was his date?

Just as he decided to leave, the door of the tea shop was thrown open. He turned around to see what the commotion was about and saw none other than his girlfriend. Y/n L/n.

Her eyes were blown wide, chest panting as she tried to catch her breath. Theodore’s face lit up as he saw her. She looked gorgeous - out of breath and absolutely gorgeous.

Y/n’s eyes locked with his as she scanned the crowd and a confused look crossed her face. Muttering apologies to everyone, she made her way over to him.

“Theo? What are you doing here?” She asked, sitting down across from him. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of her boyfriend. He grinned, offering her some tea. 

“I’m here for a blind date.”

She scoffed in amusement, taking the cup. “Me too.” 

They sipped their tea, eyes meeting as they did and a burst of laughter erupted from them both. Their friends had set them up together! The absurdity of the situation hit them like a spell gone wrong.

The couples around them looked over at the unexpected outburst, eyebrows raised in part curiosity and part irritation. Theo and Y/n couldn’t stop their laughter, though. This situation was just too funny!

Y/n wiped away a tear, her smile wide. “Bloody hell. This is not what I had been expecting.” She shook her head.

“Neither did I, love.” Theo agreed, his laughter dissolving  into a warm smile.

Their friends had no clue they were dating and had decided they would be the perfect match.

“Clearly, those idiots don’t know us as well as they think they do,” Y/N replied, chuckling. “But it’s kind of sweet.”

Theo nodded, his eyes gleaming. “How about we head somewhere more… comfortable?”

Y/N smirked, rising from her seat. “I know just the place.”

Leaving Madam Pudifoot’s behind, they strolled through the chilly streets of Hogsmeade.Their cheeks turned deep red as the cool night air hit them.

As they approached the Three Broomsticks, Theo couldn’t help but press a gentle kiss to Y/n’s forehead. He grinned as he remembered the moments the two had shared. The stolen kisses, the shared laughter and the secret dates, all kept hidden from their friends.

They found a cosy corner in the pub and settled in. The atmosphere was a nice change from the tea shop. It was all lively, with sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful banter filling the air. The couple ordered butterbeer and raised their classes for a toast to the turn of events.

Back at Madam Pudifoot's, their friends all sat dumbfounded. Draco, the mastermind behind the date, gaped at Theo and Y/n as they got up and left together. 

“Shiit. Did we miss something?” Pansy asked, nudging Draco’s side. She glanced around at the others who seemed just as confused. Blaise shook his head, grinning. “Looks like the little lovebirds have plans of their own.”

With that, the friend group left the tea shop, deciding to head to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate with butterbeer.

As Theo and Y/n continued to enjoy their company, a group of familiar faces burst through the door. They spotted each other, surprised faces morphing into amusement.

Mattheo sauntered over to the couple, a teasing look plastered on his face. “Would you look at what we have here? Care to explain, lovebirds?”

Theo and Y/n exchanged humoured looks before bursting into laughter again. It seemed that their friends had accidentally created a reunion instead of a blind date.

“We’ve been dating for a year, you oblivious idiots.” Theo exclaimed, wrapping his arm around a giggling Y/n.

Draco pouted, turning to Pansy. “I think we might need to brush up on your matchmaking skills.”

Pansy raised a brow at him. “Bitch, you mean you need to brush up on your matchmaking skills.”

The group rolled their eyes as they continued bickering. Squeezing in, the Slytherins joined the couple in their booth and The Three Broomsticks became a mere backdrop.

Enzo raised his butterbeer in another toast, “To surprises and these two lovey-dovey shits.” He winked. He was met with cheers and smiles from the group. Theo and Y/N exchanged a glance, their hearts swelling with happiness.

As the night drew to a close, the group left the Three Broomsticks. Theo and Y/N walked side by side, their fingers entwined.

“I’m glad this happened. We don’t have to be a secret anymore.” She whispered to him. He nodded, squeezing her hand. “Me too, love. Me too.”

[abdy-18]

I was thinking about Yor's cover for her assassin job and then I remembered this scene from chapter 2

slightly nsfw discussion below the cut*

And I had these two thought:

1.

It's funny that everyone in that room thinks Yor slept with men for money and expects her husband to be disgusted and judge her upon finding out (expected at the time for a respected and educated man as Loid is perceived), but the irony is that between Loid and Yor, the one who actually had to sleep with people for his job is Loid himself (or well, Twilight) when he was doing his honeypot missions.

I have this little hc that Twilight's first missions were probably Honeypot as due to his looks and charm they would be easier for him considering he was a rookie and WISE thought that would be his forte.

I don't think he liked being used just for that, so he must have gone out of his way to show Handler and WISE his full potential and capabilities (The guy is as handsome as smart lmao) and that's how Agent Twilight was born.

By the way, I hadn't thought there was also training for that “type” of missions until I read this fic in which there is a flashback of Twilight training Nightfall (you have to read it btw, half of the fic is Nightfall being incredibly horny and the other half is Twilight being incredibly blind JSFKJJJK).

So yeah, Twilight's training must have been brutal, I honestly think the reason Nightfall seems to be more impulsive than Twilight is because I feel like he wasn't as strict and brutal with her as Handler was with him.

(Imagine that poor Twilight is more traumatized by the training than by the job itself 😭, which is why he wakes up overexcited when he dreams of his early years as a trainee).

and 2:

It is very likely that Yor and Yuri's neighbors, as well as Camilla, would think the worst of Yor's work, so Yuri's great need to protect his sister stems from the fact that Lil Yuri had to listen to their neighbors constantly express themselves in horrible and derogatory ways about his beloved sister because “What kind of decent job can a girl who arrives home late at night or early in the morning have?"

Although Yor would be aware of that, she would not try to deny anything because for her it would be preferable that they think she is a prostitute than that she is a assassin, (besides she would be relieved that although her neighbors see her arrive at night, it is so dark that they can't see the blood), but Yuri seeing that his sister does nothing to clear her name would think that he has to be the one to defend her and protect her.

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| NOW WITH A PART 2: |The Actual Competitor| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon! Alastor, drinking,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

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Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[the-raindeer-king]

You're well aware that your status as the only woman amongst the 141 gets you lots of stares. Plenty of people jeering with jealousy over one thing or another. You've learned to live with it. You've got bigger things to worry about.

But this was definitely a first.

You had been working on some documents, putting together some last minute intel, when your concentration was broken by giggling. Two of the recruits, whose names currently evade your mind, approach where you're sitting, giggling amongst themselves.

“Sargent, we were wondering if you could help us,” one of them, blonde, pipes up.

The other, brunette, giggles again, her cheeks flushed pink. “It's just a quick question, ma'am.”

You stare blankly at them. Don't they have better shit to do than bother you? You let out a loud sigh, annoyed. You certainly have better shit to do than entertain them. But you offer them a tight lipped smile anyway, and reply, “Sure, ask away.”

“How do you get any work done with Sargent MacTavish and Lieutenant Riley around?”

Another blank stare. How do you get work done around Ghost and Soap? You raise an eyebrow, waiting for them to elaborate.

“I mean, MacTavish is so charming -”

“And funny!”

“- and he's so handsome. And the Lieutenant is so mysterious under that mask. And his voice is so…” she trails off, her cheeks darker than before.

All you can think of is this morning, at breakfast, when Ghost forgot to take his mask off and tried to drink his tea, nearly waterboarding himself. And how, in response, Johnny laughed so hard he shot milk from his nose. So, at the moment, charming and mysterious are not words you would use to describe them.

Charming is a word strictly used to describe another member of your team. One with pretty brown eyes that shine like amber in the sunlight. One with a honeyed voice that makes you a little weak in the knees. One that these Privates are not asking about.

You blink, breaking yourself out of your thoughts. There must be a look on your face, because the rookies giggle like they've caught you red handed.

“You'll learn that all men are dogs,” you reply sternly. “No amount of pretty words is worth dying for.”

Hypocrite, you think. You'd throw yourself in the line of fire, if it meant hearing Gaz laugh. You'd dragged yourself out of the pits of hell, just for a chance to see him smile once more. Just to hear him call your name, always so fond when he does.

“Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals. “You've got a crush!”

“Is it MacTavish? Because he's so dreamy!” The other giggles.

Just your luck. These recruits think you've got a crush on the wrong guy, and knowing rookies, the rumor will be halfway through the base before dinner.

“Don't you ladies have better shit to do than bother my Sargent?” Ghost's voice cuts through their incessant questions.

Both girls squeak out a “Yes, Lieutenant,” before they're scrambling away. But you know the damage is done. Everyone's going to think you have a crush on Soap, of all people.

You glance up at Ghost, who's still watching the recruits run off. “So… how much of that did you hear?”

He snorts, something like amusement in his voice as he replies. “Enough, but I know you don't like Johnny. Have'ta be stupid not to see the way you look at Gaz.”

You feel your face immediately heat up. “Hey! It's not that obvious!” You argue, playfully punching Ghost's shoulder.

His eyes crinkle at the sides, your sign that he's smiling under the mask. His shoulders shake with silent laughter. “S’ that what you tell yourself? We've all seen the way you soften up around ‘im.”

You let out a sigh of defeat, knowing damn well there's no point arguing with him. But it's the next thing Ghost says, that makes your eyes widen and your jaw drop.

“He just needs to man up and ask you out. Tired o’ watching you two pine like school kids.”

[lavender-phoenix-flames]

Wei wuxian: the protagonist of all time

One of the many things I love about wei wuxian is that how great of a protagonist he is (quite a long post) :

Wei wuxian is introduced as a villian that gets resurrected but as the story progresses we see that he is actually a naturally heroic person, who did his best to do the right thing and survive the unfair, unjust and classist system.

He is very self aware, confident, charming, charismatic, handsome and competent. He has a very healthy self esteem, high emotional intelligence and he is a renowned genius, a prodigy. He is also amazingly observant, perceptive, a logic driven person, a quick thinker. He is so calculated in everything he does and reasonable too. He isn't impulsive or reckless rather he thinks all his actions through, considers the consequences and then takes action. He isn't oblivious either (anyone who thinks otherwise go read the book again).

Above mentioned traits are something you don't usually find in protagonists that often and it's refreshing to see a character so greatly skilled and intelligent in all ways yet so humble, sweet, kind, free spirited, full of life and selfless (selfless not self sacrificing). Usually any other character with his level of greatness would have been arrogant about it, but wwx is different. He has not only attempted the impossible but successfully achieved it, not once but multiple times, yet he knew his limits and shortcomings well, even when he was the strongest he never thought himself invincible/omnipotent, he never thought anyone above or below him.

He is so misunderstood both by the world he lives in and the fandom. Being orphaned at a young age, surviving living on the streets, being raised in a abusive household, scapegoated, backed into the farthest corner, having being into worst of situations, where his beliefs, his own life and life of his loved ones are threatened, having limited options where it is either forsake yourself or other innocent ones, he chooses the former. It isn't self sacrificial if he didn't have any other option, cuz other option is just betrayal of his self and morals.

And at the end he is just as human as any of us if not more. He has his flaws, his trauma, his sufferings, his dark days and moments where he wasn't himself but he never let it hold him back, dictate his life. He seeked revenge on those who wronged him, even in his darkest days he knew the limits of violence he can commit. Never regretted any of his actions, if he did he moved on quickly.

At the end there really isn't anyone like him, he isn't perfect but he is ideal, he is someone who we should learn from and strive to be. For me this is how an ideal protagonists should be, not only is he lovable, admirable, and deserving of immense respect, he is someone we can all be, it isn't impossible.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | NO MORE HOCKEY PLAYERS!

REQUEST. : I think this might be too vague but can I request IceHockey!James x Reader angst with fluffy ending. I'm acc in love with the way you write him 🤍🤍 ⏤requested by anon

LENGTH : 1.9k

TAGS : modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james potter ; enemies to lovers? but not really? ; enemies by association to lovers? ; protective james potter ; precious reader ; oc!andrew ; reader in a bad relationship ; james being the knight in shining hockey gear ; angst with fluff ending

WARNINGS : toxic relationship ; mentions of mistreatment in a relationship

You knew what was coming. It was something you were used to seeing, to dealing with in the two years you’ve been dating Andrew. As captain of the Ice Hockey team at Imperial College London and playing the Right-Wing Forward position, he was oftentimes compared to his more prominent, more celebrated counterpart, James Potter. 

James Potter was the Ice Hockey captain of his team at UCL and also played the Right-Wing Forward position. Through this similarity, they were often compared and Andrew was beyond irritated by the fact. Irritated and fed up. James never appeared to mind the comparisons, however. In fact, he took it in stride because, in his eyes, the results of a fair game will put the constant equating to rest. 

Andrew was passionate about the sport, he really was, his position as Captain was evidence of that dedication, however the constant comparisons in his ear made him highly aggressive on top of his already present anger issues. It wasn’t like this in the beginning, he was once very sweet and caring towards you, aware of your needs and was as much of a best friend as he was your boyfriend. Yes, you weren’t exempt from the occasional disagreement or shouting competition but it’s been so much worse as of late. 

Just a couple of months ago, he lost a game to James’ team and finally snapped to the point that he managed to make the usually grinning and charming James Potter flush red with anger and commenced a screaming match that inaugurated an infamous rivalry between the two. That one win against him was also the tipping point for all the whispers comparing the two to sharply peak in favour of James. Now, there was always an undertone of James being viewed as the better one of the two. More charismatic, more diligent, more empathetic, more resilient, more consistent, more respectable… more handsome. All of which fanned the flames of your boyfriend’s anger until it reached dangerous levels. 

The matches against them were, now, much more exhilarating but also much more aggressive. It frightened you the first time you saw them play against each other after that horrific encounter the previous game. This wasn’t a good display of sportsmanship. They were like two lions going after each other’s throats, pushing and shoving and colliding at top speeds, baring their teeth menacingly but neither side conceding defeat – they refused to surrender; one had to fall for the other to rise. It was horrifying to witness. You worried for Andrew but you also worried for James. They were both equal in brawn and stature so anything could happen to either side and they weren’t the least bit shy in making their belligerent intentions known. Bruises and sore limbs were expected from the sport but you feared that something more serious could be anticipated in the conflict between the two. 

Your heart was almost ready to burst out of your chest when each game began and ended. It didn’t help that you were a frequent witness to Andrew’s harsh criticism towards his own team. Due to his frustrations and boiling anger, he demanded more of himself and, by extension, demanded more of his teammates as well. Many times, you tried to remind him of the fact that he wasn’t going about disciplining or encouraging his team in the right way. A familiar confrontation once became a huge fight that his teammates had to get in the middle of, worried for you, who they had come to think of as part of their own and, vice versa. Gradually, his support from the team dwindled, which meant that, during his combative encounters with James in the rink, he was slowly being left on his own with no one to assist him. He was playing at a higher risk each game and it hurt you to watch. Your love might have dwindled during Andrew’s self-destructive tirade but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for his well-being. 

The result was inevitable. Owing to the lack of support from his own teammates and having to counter James’ antagonistic plays by himself, Andrew’s anger and jealousy grew and grew. It was a slap to the face when, at every re-match, his self-sabotaging behaviour led to James and his team’s victory. It was predictable, even for you, but you supported Andrew through it all. 

At the end of the match, Andrew sulked in the locker rooms while the rest of the team hurried away, disgruntled by their captain’s pathetic plays, selfish agenda and mistreatment towards them when pinning all the blame for their loss solely on their lack of collaboration when, truly, he was the only one to blame.

“It’ll be okay, Andy–” 

“Shut up!” his roaring shout bounced off the walls of the empty locker room. His voice echoed with mourning, betrayal and burning hot rage. It made your shoulders tense from the rising tension. 

“Andrew, the way you’re acting i-it isn’t right–!” you tried to reason with him despite his hulking form and much larger frame intimidating you. He didn’t even have to look into your eyes for a shiver to run down your spine; the slamming of his locker door, the throwing of his clothes and the reckless handling of his equipment was enough to make you flinch each time. 

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT’S RIGHT OR WRONG!” he argues through clenched teeth, pushing the locker room doors open and letting it swing back, almost hitting you as you scurry up behind him. 

“Well, you should, at least, try!” In a moment of bravery, you puff out your chest and glare at him, your eyes shining with thinly disguised disappointment and fear. He wasn’t like the Andrew you knew at all… this horrible, violent person was nothing like the Andrew you fell in love with two years ago, “I know you can be a great captain but you’re running yourself and your own team into the ground! Learn to put your ego aside for once!” 

“WHY YOU!-- WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LECTURE ME?!” his large hand raises and comes swinging down. It’s too late to react, you can only pinch your eyes closed and wait for the impact to come with clenched teeth. 

“WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO HIT HER?!” 

The hit never came. Instead, your eyes snap open to stare in shock at James Potter gripping the wrist of your boyfriend and pushing him away as he tucks you behind him. Too shocked at the situation and the sudden appearance of your boyfriend’s counterpart, you can’t help but just gape at the situation. 

No no no! This isn’t meant to happen! You should have left the argument in the locker room! 

“She’s my girlfriend! Dipshit!” Andrew snarls and tries to reach for you again but James steps in the way, blocking your view. He’s a solid mountain between you and your irate boyfriend. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. 

“That gives you even less of a right, not that you had any right to hit anyone to begin with,” James pants lightly, his heightened anger making him feel as though he’s run a mile, “If she’s your girl, you should treat her better! Acting like this after a loss is pathetic but pinning it onto your lady is disgusting!” James can handle rough play on the rink because he’s trained for it and he’s grown the thick skin to endure all kinds of impacts. But, when he sees violence like this outside the rink, it’s beyond infuriating, it makes him see red, it makes him want to throw all manner of good will out the window and go charging in like a stubborn bull.

“Fuck! Off!” Andrew shoves him away and grabs your upper arm, tugging you away without any regard for the force in his grip. It happened much too quickly that you couldn’t comprehend everything until you felt a stinging pain bloom in your arm under his grip. 

“Ow!… Andrew, stop, please! You’re hurting me!”

“I don’t care! Hurry! Up!” he gives another aggressive tug and you squeal from the pain, willing yourself to suppress it so as to not anger him further. But your cry of hurt was enough to set off an unbelievable chain reaction.

There was a dull but harsh THUMP as James’ clenched fist collides with Andrew’s face, sending him sprawling as two gentle hands come up to your shoulders and gently pull you away from the scene. Those same two hands turn you around and carefully move down to press against your lower back, acting as a guide to lead you a safe distance away. The girl introduces herself as Alice, the girlfriend of Frank, who was the goalie of the UCL team. She leads you with a sympathetic smile past the rest of the James’ teammates, who face forward and grit their teeth at what they were just the witnesses to, some even stepping forward. Whether they wanted to join in or not, you didn’t find out but one was tall with mousy brown hair and the other had dark black hair against pale paper skin and grey eyes – the left defence and the centre of the UCL team. 

“You’re okay…” Alice whispers softly, hurrying you along as the sound of punches begin to echo through the hallway, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” 

As tears slip past your lash line, a shaky whimper escapes your bitten lips and you accept her comfort with a small nod.

Suffice to say, you and Andrew broke up. And for good reason. Many people couldn’t even fathom that someone as soft-hearted and sweet as you would ever give someone like Andrew the time of day when you deserved so much more. What they don’t understand is that he was never like that when you first met… but, you suppose, he finally showed his true colours. But thanks to that, you’ve sworn off dating hockey players ever again! 

“Oh!” a happy acknowledgement sounds and draws your eyes up to see a handsome, boyish grin beaming down at you, “It’s you!” His freshly washed locks drip with water and he moves to close the locker room door behind him when his words bring the attention of curious eyes from the rest of his team, all peaking a glimpse of you around his frame.

“Yeah…” you smile softly, nerves shaking anxiously as your hands clasp together for some stability, “sorry for suddenly showing up,”

“It’s alright,” James’ beaming smile doesn’t fade the slightest bit as his eyes shine with relief, “I’m just glad you’re looking okay,”

“Yeah, all thanks to you,” the compliment makes him flush bashfully as a large hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. For a guy with a bear-like frame, he pulls off the adorable puppy look pretty well.

“Did you watch the game?” he hurries to change the topic and instead of answering, you hold up a cutely wrapped batch of homemade cookies. Andrew was once the only person who had exclusive access to your home baked goodies but he lost that privilege a long time ago. It’s time to associate your baking with something (someone) more positive and deserving. 

“Wow! Thanks!” James eyes your offer with wide eyes and was already drooling from the sugary scent in the air, seducing him into taking it and having a bite. You smile at his moans of gratification and allow his free flowing compliments to boost your confidence, “will you be coming to our next game?” he suddenly asks, catching you off guard. 

“Uhh..--”

“Please come,” his eyes plead with you but when you don’t answer, he bargains, “I’ll win it for you,” 

No more hockey players be damned.

A/N : i love writing hockey player james potter too~ he's just so dreamy! ahhhhh! it's probably one of my favourite aus of james potter! (,,o // o,,) thank you so much for the request, anon-darling! im so sorry for taking so long, i hope you enjoy the read!

NAVI.

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[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Twelve — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader does what she has to for the information she wants. Talking to Azriel takes an interesting turn. Kaeda’s not doing her job, and she’s feeling a bit sorry for herself — to which Cassian isn’t very sympathetic.

Word Count: 9.6k. OOF. A long one, sorry!

Warnings: None.

You should really just go to sleep. Mind your own business.

But you find yourself waiting. Listening. For some indication that Tathaln has left.

You think it might be hours that pass. Roza has long since passed out in her bed. But there’s no chance of you sleeping, too. Not with all the thoughts that are crammed full in your head and speaking too loudly.

The most pressing of which: Why the fuck would the Lord of Fenlaros be visiting the High Lord in his private home in this private city?

No other camp lords venture here, you’re sure. Don’t even know it exists.

And yet, from that short glimpse you got of Finadar and Tathaln, there was an air of…familiarity, about them. Like it wasn’t the first time they were privately meeting.

Eventually, you grow sick of waiting, wondering. It’s no use. You’re restless and wired and churned up. You need to move, to stretch your legs, grab a drink or something.

The house is eerily still. You take your time traversing the corridors, carefully listening out to catch lowered voices and hushed tones. Even decide to take the longer route — the one that would take you past the High Lord’s study. But even as you pass by the thick wooden door, you hear nothing but the distant sounds of a hooting owl and the slicing wind amidst the mountains.

You’re almost at the kitchen when a figure abruptly rounds the corner on too-light feet. You stop short — and so does the High Lord.

You’re so stunned that you forget yourself. It takes a moment for you to remember to act accordingly. You bow your head in greeting. “My Lord.”

“Y/N.” Your name sounds funny, too familiar, on his tongue. When Rhysand had brought you here at fourteen, Finadar had merely referred to you as that girl. It seems that with age comes at least a little bit of acknowledgment. His eyes rake over you, and you’re suddenly aware of your nightgown, your unbound hair. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little, my Lord—”

“Just Fin, please.”

You pause. And then smile a bland smile. “A little…Fin.”

He holds up the object you hadn’t noticed clutched within his hand. A bottle. “I was just about to have a night cap. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

On instinct, you want to decline. Having a private drink with Rhysand’s father seems…inappropriate, somehow.

But then that curious little voice in your head reminds you that this — this is the perfect opportunity to ask some questions, hopefully garner information. He’s relaxed. Open. In his own environment. What better time than now?

So that bland smile becomes a pretty one, and you dip your chin. “It would be my pleasure.”

With that charming smile of his own, the handsome male leads you to his study and holds the door open for you. Stepping inside feels like breaching somewhere firmly forbidden, and a place of such luxury that it would chew up your poor-to-do self and spit you out. All rich mahogany wood and more books than you’ve ever seen in your life. Trinkets and papers and maps and war strategy. The sight leaves you a little breathless, and for a moment, you forget you’re not alone.

But then the door shuts behind you, and the High Lord is striding past, over to his desk.

“You’ve been a friend of my son’s for a while, now, haven’t you?” He asks casually, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

You step closer, nodding. “I have, My Lo—Fin. Nine years, to be exact.”

“And you’re his age?”

“Yes. Twenty.”

A vague smile plays on his lips. “Old enough to drink, then, Please, do sit.”

You do exactly that, taking a seat in one of the plush, cushioned chairs and folding your hands in your lap. And for all you had planned to speak with Fin, now that you’re in front of him, you’re not quite sure what to say. You don’t know how to talk to someone of such high status.

He’s entirely at confident — even arrogant — ease, though. With a wave of a hand, a fire roars to life, breathing heat into the room and bathing it in an intimate glow. He pours two glasses of dark, smoky liquid and hands one to you before taking his own.

Instead of sitting at his desk as you half expect, he’s slumping into the armchair beside yours and tipping his head against its back.

He looks…tired, you note, as you subtly study him over the lip of your glass. Devastatingly beautiful — there’s no doubt about that. Chocolate eyes that remind you of Mor’s and short, reddish-brown hair. His generously muscled arms push through his shirt as he shifts.

And then he says, out of the blue, “I don’t sleep well, either.”

You’re not sure why he’s telling you that, of all things.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like an appropriate response. “I imagine, in being High Lord, you must have a lot on your plate.”

A wry smile graces his lips. “There’s always someone wanting something from you.” His eyes then drink you in again. “What is it you do in Windhaven? I take it you’re unwed. I don’t remember approving a marriage for you.”

“I am. Until recently, I lived with and worked for my father. But my circumstances have changed, and I don’t know what I’ll be doing next.”

“Was it your father who took your wings?”

Heat burns your cheeks. “It was.”

“Is that what you want from me? To punish him?”

You stare back at him, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “Who says I want anything from you?”

“Do you not?”

“…It was you who invited me for a drink, My Lord. I can leave if my company is bothersome to you—”

“It is not.” He lays a hand on your arm, skin far smoother than you expect from somebody so accustomed to weapons. “But there’s no reason we can’t both get something out of this.”

Your eyes fall down to that hand, and your body is so very still. Perhaps you’ve made a grave mistake in seeking him out.

But you dare ask, “What is it you want?”

A chuckle rasps out of him, and he retracts the touch. “Honesty. I get the sense that you’re of the curious sort. Why else would you have been so intently watching me greet my guest earlier this evening?”

So, he’d seen you. Silly, for you to assume that you could slip into the shadows around such a powerful being. You can almost feel that power prowling under his skin right now.

“I am interested,” you admit, “in what Tathaln Baralas was doing here.”

“You’re familiar with him.” He states — and then chuckles again. “Of course, you are. You were one of the ones who snuck off to Fenlaros for a party. I wasn’t best pleased when my son told me.” His head falls into a tilt. “But why would you be interested in Tathaln’s business here?”

“I may not be from Fenlaros, but I am Illyrian. And I imagine that a matter that warrants a meeting at the High Lord’s personal residence is one pressing enough to effect more than just a single camp.”

Full lips — Rhysand’s lips — tilt upwards. “Beautiful, curious and intelligent. Such a waste in a place like Illyria.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And you are too bashful.” A quiet intensity lies within his brown eyes. “I will reward your candour with this: Tathaln Baralas was here to suggest — request — a grand ball.”

For a split second, you falter. Try not to let it show on your face that you do.

The answer is…underwhelming. Perhaps you’re so idle in Velaris that you’re looking for drama where it doesn’t exist.

“A ball.” You repeat the word rather foolishly, like it’s your first time ever saying it. “I…I wasn’t aware that a Camp Lord would need your permission to arrange such a thing.”

“Confined to his own camp, he would not.” Fin tells you. “But the Lord of Fenlaros proposes something on a far larger scale. Something that has never before been done, and something that, I must admit, has piqued my interest.”

“Which is what?”

“Tathaln,” the High Lord stands, draining his glass and returning it to his desk, “has asked me to throw an Illyrian ball — not solely a Fenlarion ball. Meaning the best legions from all Illyrian war camps will be invited, along with their wives, mates, whatever. They will all gather in one place for this event, and interact as they never have before.”

You stare at him.

You do not mean for your indignation to shine through so freely.

He is your High Lord and not to be disrespected.

But you’re studying him, and wondering why the fuck he doesn’t look as alarmed by the suggestion as you feel.

“Why, by the Cauldron, would he want to do that?” The words fall from your mouth, formality forgotten. “There’s a reason it’s never been done before. Rival camps do not mix because Illyrians are hot-headed and driven by ego, and there would be fights and bloodshed and probably death. It’s a terrible idea. I don’t understand why Tathaln Baralas would suggest such a thing.”

A deep chortle husks out of the High Lord, and you could be wrong, but you think there might be a hint of surprise in the sound. Like he’s unused to such brazenness from his subjects — female ones, in particular.

You asked a damn good question, though.

Fin turns to you, and for a lingering moment, he simply stares. And then he says, softly, “Stand.”

You pause. Think that maybe, you’ve spoken too much, crossed a line. But you stand.

The High Lord beckons you closer.

You take one step forward. Another. Another. He lifts a hand and motions for you to stop. You do. You smooth your hands over your nightgown. Think you might be shaking a little.

You do not need a wealth of knowledge nor experience to recognise exactly how it is that he looks at you.

Deep, tawny eyes trail the length of you and seem to miss no detail. Your loose hair and pretty, open face. The sharp lines of your collarbones and the smooth skin of your decolletage. The flowing silk of your nightgown and the bareness of your legs and arms on show beneath it.

He stares at you in a way that makes you feel you’re wearing nothing at all.

And then he’s prowling closer with preternatural grace, and the heat and scent of his body seems to snuff out the heat and scent of the fire.

You can only stand, your legs wobbling a little, as he begins to circle you, peruse you, like a predator assessing its prey. You might hold your breath a little. You’re not sure what he plans to do, whether you’re to be reprimanded for your candidness. When he raises his hand, you hope you don’t flinch. You learned not to do so, not to show your fear, in the years living under your father’s thumb.

But his hand merely cups the curve of your shoulder and sweeps a few strands of your hair back.

“Give me what I want, Y/N.” He says, his voice gritty. “And I will tell you what Tathaln wants.”

This is all starting to feel like a huge oversight. A mistake. If this goes too far — if he suggests something that would disrespect Roza in any way…

You’d sooner be reprimanded, however badly.

Your eyes shutter, and you speak again, “What is it you want?”

Fin slinks round until he’s stood before you. The mild smile on his lips hides so much. “If I’m to oversee an event with all the camps under my rule,” he says, “I want to look good. I’m a victim of extreme vanity, you see. Appearances are everything. And thus, I would go before my subjects with the prettiest little piece at my side.” His eyes drink in your face, unpainted and unguarded. “You would do nicely.”

You’re not certain that your breath of relief is a silent one. The suggestion could be far worse, of course, but anxious butterflies are still all aflutter in your gut.

It would be prudent to remember who you’re talking to — who it is you’re playing games with. To remember that you are just a young female from Windhaven, with no experience outside of it. You are not a seasoned courtier, and you do not know the rules of the game — how to play them, nor how to break them.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze. “Forgive me, My Lord. Whilst I’m undoubtedly flattered…I must admit to also being confused. Won’t Roza fulfil the role at your side?”

“Roza will attend no more public appearances for the remainder of her pregnancy — a decision we came to together. She is far too tired and must rest. And she’s fully aware that I will need to invite a special guest in her place.”

“But if you’re trying to make an impression before your Illyrian subjects…I am the last female who would bring you any glory. I am ordinary. I do not have wings—”

“You do yourself a disservice, Y/N.” His slow footsteps begin again. “The likes of your father have got into your head, I fear. What I see, looking at you now, is not these.” Warm fingers touch your ruined back, and you jerk a little. “What I see is the embodiment of classic Illyrian beauty. Just as I see in my Roza. You may not know this, but they tried to take her wings, too. Until I stopped them. It — we — would send a message, don’t you think? That your repulsive father may have taken your wings, but he did not take your spirit. Your beauty. And that spirit and beauty earned you a place at the High Lord’s side. Perhaps I’ll invite your father, and his punishment can be the night’s entertainment.”

It's…strange. Conflicting. Because the High Lord is saying things that you so often long to hear. The shattered, self-loathing part of your brain perks up and leans into the compliments like a pampered cat, waiting to hear more, to be stroked.

But then there’s an angry part of you — one that wishes to yell at him that if he truly abhorred the practice of wing clipping, he would ban it altogether instead of keeping himself in the favour of Illyrians and simultaneously bashing their views and traditions behind their backs.

So many feelings. And yet, you try to remember why you’re here.

Because something eats away at you that whatever Tathaln Baralas is up to will impact Azriel somehow. At least as long as he’s with Kaeda.  

So you lift your chin and ask, “I agree to be your special guest to the ball, and you tell me what the Lord of Fenlaros is up to? It’s that easy?”

Fin chuckles. Stops in front of you again. “It’s that easy.” He inclines his head. “As I said, I am of the vain sort — and this is merely a thing of vanity. I’d rather enjoy parading one of my son’s pretty playthings on my arm. Letting those Illyrian males know that I could have any of their females if I wanted. And the fact that I don’t particularly care for Tathaln Baralas means that I don’t particularly care to hold on too tightly to his secrets, either.”

You don’t bother correcting him about the nature of yours and Rhys’s relationship. Seems irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. And if your only role in this is to dress up and look pretty at the High Lord’s side, you reckon you’ve gotten off pretty damn lightly.

For a moment, there, you really thought he might want…more.

“Alright.” You stand up straight. “I will gladly be your guest to the ball.”

He smiles an odd smile, like he knew you would agree all along. With his arm brushing yours as he closely passes, he makes his way back over to his desk. Refills his glass and yours. Hands it to you.

“The reason the Lord of Fenlaros wants an Illyrian ball,” he says, “is because he seeks a situation in which he can have an eye on all camps — and vet their talent.”

“Vet their…” Your brow pinches. “What?”

“Tathaln, Y/N, has a vision in mind.” Fin turns to you, perching on the edge of the desk. “One that, I have to admit, did pique my interest — if it were to work. You see, he’s of the opinion that Illyria should, eventually, do away with the individual camps entirely. He’d sooner have one huge camp — that he would be Lord of, of course, and have a team of the strongest, most powerful Illyrians working alongside him to train the most fearsome army in the entirety of the Fae realm.”

“That’s preposterous. Cramming all Illyrians into one camp under one lord would mean the eye would be taken off the ball quicker than lightning. How could an army that big be adequately trained by a small team of leaders, no matter how powerful? Even the strongest soldiers couldn’t keep command of such numbers. That is why the individual camps work. Weaknesses get smoothed out and strengths are honed.”

The fire in your tone seems to amuse the High Lord. And you wonder if Illyria isn’t unlike a dolls house to him. Figures he can pluck up and move around and pit against each other for his own entertainment.

“Tathaln would disagree with you.” He smiles. “He believes that the individual camps only create room for complacency, a lack of order. He thinks that your kind spend more time drinking and fucking and fighting amongst themselves than they do training for combat. And he thinks that if something isn’t done about it, the next war could wipe Illyria off the map.”

“And he believes himself to be a strong enough Camp Lord to somehow fix that?”

“Alone? Gods, no. He’s an arrogant brute, but not a stupid one. No,” He says again. “See, this unit he would build wouldn’t be just made up of highly-skilled warriors.”

“Then what?”

“Illyrians with further powers. Special abilities.” Fin’s eyes track over your face, waiting for the realisation to dawn. “Like a shadowsinger, for example.”

And finally, it’s like light blotting out the clueless darkness of your head. Suddenly, it all falls into place.

You don’t know why you didn’t see it before.

“Tathaln wants Azriel under his command.” The words are ash on your tongue.

“Yes.” Fin nods. “He does. And there are other males in other camps, too, with their own, unique abilities. Tathaln wants this ball to see them up close. Pick them out. If things go his way, he would have those males defecting from their current camps and making a home in Fenlaros. There, they would train — and begin bringing Tathaln’s vision to life.”

Azriel leaving Windhaven…moving to another camp and not being around to talk to, to spend mindless hours with, to face life with — the thought is like a cold, cruel stab to your heart.

Your friends are what make Windhaven bearable. Together, you’ve built a little home there, a family. And you may all be at each other’s throats right now, but you love each other. Wouldn’t want to lose each other.

The idea of no longer seeing Az makes you want to puke up the two glasses of whiskey now swimming in your stomach.

And even more sickening is the further realisation—

Kaeda is Tathaln’s daughter — his puppet on a string.

It was never a coincidence that she randomly started floating around Windhaven. Wasn’t a natural thing at all, that she’d found interest in Azriel, of all people. The only shadowsinger.

The entire thing had been carefully orchestrated.

Kaeda’s interest in Az isn’t genuine. Her father specifically sent her to Windhaven to get him on side.

You think you might actually be sick. Suddenly, the High Lord’s study seems far too small.

“Why would you allow any of this?” You manage to grit out around your growing panic. “You’re the High Lord…if you tell Tathaln no, he can’t take it any further.”

Fin shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “As I said — his vision piqued my interest. It’s not a bad idea, provided it would be executed properly. But if it were? Imagine the glory. The power. The Night Court would boast the most steeled army in Prythian. Battle would be mere child’s play to us.”

You…no. No. You can’t sit back and act like you don’t know any of this.

Azriel needs to be told. He needs to know what games Kaeda is playing — that she’s only interested in doing her father’s bidding, pouring honeyed words into Az’s ear to coax him out of Windhaven and into their ready, waiting trap. To use him. Exploit him.

You need to tell him. Even if he goes straight back to being angry with you after, still doesn’t want to speak to you…you need to.

With shaking hands, you place your glass down. “I…I’m quite tired. I think I’ll try, again, to sleep.” There’s no chance of that. “Thank you for the drink. And the conversation.”

Fin’s head falls into a tilt. He looks…intrigued. “Thank you for the company. And I’ve no doubt I can trust you to uphold your end of our arrangement.”

You nod. Hate the words as you speak them. “I will be your guest at the ball.”

“I’ll be in touch, then. Goodnight.”

You only just manage to return the sentiment as you slip out of the room, the cold hallways making a grab for your bare skin. Fin’s words haunt you all the way back to your room. Keep you awake all through the night.  Bury themselves deep in your mind, your heart, and fill you with such an icy-cold fear, you feel you may never be warm again.

You have to tell Azriel — or you may lose him for good.

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The next morning, over tea and pastries and your rushed retelling of the night before, Roza stares at you.

Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re angry with me.” You breathe, the very words pinching at your heart. “I understand. But I needed to find out what Tathaln Baralas was up to. I just knew that—”

“Angry with you?” She cuts you off. “No, my love. With Fin? Yes. That he’s even entertaining this idea of that odious Camp Lord’s, and that his ego is so great that he would parade you on his arm like nothing more than prize cattle. That, I am angry with.” Her eyes sweep your face with concern — and a hint of something else. Something like…admiration. “You, however…you remind me exactly of myself when I was your age. Scheming, pushing back against what’s simply wrong…and in the name of love, too. I cannot possibly be angry with you for that.”

Your eyes fall to your plate. Love. That word rings in your ears like a war cry. “I need to do this. For Azriel. He’s being used, and—”

“I know.” Roza reaches over, closing a hand over yours. “Believe me, I know. And you have my full blessing and support. But you also have my concern. The games of Courts and High Lords and Camp Lords are dangerous ones. Do what you need to do for Azriel — for love — but have your wits about you. Do not, at any point, let them best you. And if Fin tries to take your agreement any further and lays a hand on you, come and tell me straight away, and I will fucking castrate him—”

Her words are cut short by a night-chilled shroud, darkness-given-form, despite the morning light that bathes the room.

Rhysand appears out of thin air. “Who will you castrate, mother dear?”

“You.” Roza says without a beat, scowling at her son. “What have I told you about just appearing like that? You’re showing off. It’s rude.”

“But I’m so good at it.” He strides closer, kissing her cheek and then yours. And steals the remainder of your pastry. “Ready to go?”

You’d sent a note a little over an hour ago, asking Rhys to come get you and fly you to Windhaven. You didn’t specify that you were going to talk to Az — and potentially break his heart with the information you’d garnered last night.

Rhys, of course, had written back that he’d be more than willing to oblige — as soon as Zakai was done sucking his cock.

Indeed, your friend looks particularly flushed and sated as he swallows your food and washes it down with a gulp of your tea.

“Rhysand.” Roza scolds. “Have some damn manners. Will you steal food from the babe, too?”

“Well, considering you’ll be breastfeeding her, mother dearest, absolutely not—”

“Her?” You blink between them. “You know it’s a girl?”

Roza smiles softly, sliding a hand over her stomach. “Not for certain. But the healer seems pretty sure. Her magic can detect these things, and she says she’s never gotten it wrong in all her years.”

“Gods, I hope so.” Rhys’s violet eyes glitter. “I’ve said from the start that I’m hoping for a sister.”

And you can see it already — Rhys throwing himself into the role of older brother. Protecting that little girl with his whole heart. She’d be the luckiest child in all of Prythian to have Rhys for a brother. And to have Cassian and Azriel protecting her, too…

That is, if Azriel doesn’t choose to go to Fenlaros.

Your stomach turns all over again at the thought. No — you need to speak with him, to warn him. He wouldn’t leave.

“Let’s go.” You stand abruptly, your breakfast feeling leaden in your stomach.

“Much obliged.” Rhys sketches a flourishing bow, to which Roza rolls her eyes. He kisses her cheek again. “Take it easy. I love you.”

Roza inclines her head. “I love you both.”

Its as you, too, dip down to kiss her cheek, that she lays a gentle hand on your arm. Concern swims in her eyes.

“Be careful, my little dove.” She pleads quietly. “Not just of the game you’re playing — but of your heart, too. Protect it.”

The words echo in your mind too loudly as Rhys takes your hand and steals you away.

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Twenty years in Windhaven should have you at least a little accustomed to the brutal temperatures, but landing your feet on the packed snow makes you wonder if even a whisper of the spring season will kiss these parts. It seems to lurk on the horizon, just out of reach.

As Rhys dusts flecks of snow from his jacket, you glance down at your pathetic, worn boots. The very boots that seemed to start this entire godsdamned situation with Az. It was these that made him scoop you into his arms and carry you to the mead hall, where you shared that first, heated kiss on one of the tables—

“What are you staring at?” Rhys hovers at your side.

“Nothing.” You straighten yourself up. Hope your blush can pass for cold-bitten skin. “Do you know where Azriel is? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Sparring rings, I’d presume.”

You nod, and you go to head off in the other direction, but Rhys’s hand is enclosing around yours. He squeezes gently. “Send word when you want me to come get you.”

The sentiment promises more than just safe transport back to Velaris. It offers support, too — in the likely scenario that this conversation doesn’t go smoothly.

Because you have to consider the possibility that the truth about Kaeda, while needing to be exposed, may not be well received.

Azriel will likely be hurt by it. And you might bear the brunt of that.

Rhysand will be there for you, whatever happens. Even if he has no clue what’s going on.

So you squeeze back, and you offer an unconvincing smile as you let go. “I love you, Rhysand.”

He scowls. “Don’t like it when you call me Rhysand.”

“Sorry, Rhysand.”

“You’re a little shit. But I love you, too.”

You smile wider. That little bit of jesting is what gives you the courage, the strength, to square your shoulders and stroll away from him, snow seeping into your boots with each step.

By the time you get to the sparring rings, you think your feet might be frozen solid. But lo and behold, Azriel is there, currently going head-to-head with another male in his unit.

The very sight is the picture of a hard-trained warrior — a dance, a performance, of flying fists and measured breaths. Az is big and muscled, but he’s lithe and swift, and he moves through each step and dodges each blow and delivers his own as though it’s easy as air. He’s flawless, and for a heartbeat, all you can do is watch, every thought eddying from your mind.

But then he’s dodging a flying fist and pivoting on his feet. His eyes catch you. He’s distracted long enough for his partner to grab the upper hand and knock Az off his feet.

The shadowsinger accepts defeat. He sprawls on his back, panting heavily, and you continue to watch as his opponent grins and offers a hand to help him up.

“Distracted by a female?” He jokes. “I thought you were better than that, shadowsinger.”

A tight smile forms and falls from Az’s lips. He hates losing. “It would seem not. Well fought.”

“I’ll leave you and your lady to it.” The other male says, and you choose to ignore the suggestion in his voice. Azriel ignores it, too. Doesn’t even acknowledge him as he strolls away, no doubt to boast to his insufferable friends that he managed to get one over on the shadowsinger.

Az looks at you in that quiet, assessing way of his. Surveys you head to toe, like he needs to reassure himself that your short stay in Velaris has brought you no harm thus far. It’s good that he still cares, you think. You hope.

“You’re back?” He asks, grabbing a towel to wipe at his face. It’s then that you notice that his lip is bleeding a little.

“Not entirely.” You shake your head. “I…need to talk to you about something. Something important.”

And whether he’s ready to talk to you yet, or not, is irrelevant — he seems to realise that as he studies you once more and nods. “We’ll go to the dorms. Nobody’s there.”

You hate this, you want to tell him. The awkwardness. The…the stagnancy of your relationship. It was never supposed to be like this between you and him. It hurts.

And it makes you realise that love isn’t always beautiful.

But you school your expression as he finally closes the gap between you. He glances down, and a soft sigh escapes him. “Those fucking boots.”

Before you can say something, anything, find some way to defend your continued wearing of those fucking boots, Azriel is grabbing your hand. The unexpected touch jolts you — as does the zip through thin air that has you landing in the kitchenette of the dorms only seconds later.

Despite possessing the ability to winnow, Azriel avoids it at all costs, if he can. Something about the practice unsettles him, and he doesn’t believe he’s ever refined it enough to use it reliably.

So, the fact that he just winnowed you to the dorms either means that he still cares enough to get you out of the cold, or he wants to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Gods, you hope it’s the former.

“Stay there.” He murmurs, and he’s turning on his feet. You want to stop him and tell him it’s imperative that you speak immediately — but you can only watch as he strides in the direction of his room.

Moments later, he’s strolling back through — a pair of his own, thick socks in his hands.

You might just soften and crumble enough to forget about the conversation and throw your arms around him. Even now, he’s still looking out for you, making sure you’re taken care of.

You plead with yourself not to get choked up over a pair of socks. But you just…miss him. Miss this. And you think that shows as you hold a hand out and rasp, “Thank you.”

“Let me.” Is all Az replies. He drops to his knees before you.

Your mind goes quiet.

Gods.

The last thing you expected, from coming here, was to see Az knelt at your feet.

And it’s so fucking inappropriate, but as he begins to unlace your boots, your stupid, pathetic brain begins to lament on what a damn shame it is, that you didn’t get to behold this sight, have him on his knees, when things were still good between you. Maybe there’s something wrong with you.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Need to make sure you’re warm.” He chucks your sodden boots aside, yanks your socks off. Dries your poor, pinkened feet. Tugs his own socks — so big on you that he has to bunch them at the ankles — onto them. And then rises to his feet. “I’ll get a fire going.”

His fussing over you has always bordered on outright hysterical.

“Azriel.” Finally, you lay a firm hand on his arm. Stop him. “I need to talk to you.”

The way he goes so very still at your touch has you realising — all this fussing is to avoid simply…looking at you. Facing you. He’s trying to busy himself in your presence.

But he does look at you. Lifts his gaze to yours. And there’s grit in his voice as says, “I know I fucked up, Y/N. I shouldn’t have reacted to you and Cassian the way I did. I had no right.”

“I’m not here about that—”

“I was angry because I was so damn jealous. And that’s irrational, and I know it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stand the thought of him…anyone else…putting their hands—”

“It’s Kaeda, Az. She’s using you.”

Finally, you’ve won his silence. His arm tenses under your hand. His eyes burn into yours.

“I learned it from the High Lord himself.” The words are so, so sour on your tongue. You hate this. Hate the truth — for Az. “Tathaln Baralas is trying to round up the most powerful Illyrians of each camp and have them under his command in Fenlaros. Eventually, he wants there to be only one camp — that he rules over. He covets you because you’re a shadowsinger, and he sent Kaeda here to cosy up to you and do his bidding, win you over. She’s been working for him—”

He tugs away from your touch. Takes a step back. And the anger, the hurt, that you expect to find on his face just…isn’t there.

“I know all of this.” He says, simply.

“You—what?”

“I had dinner with Kaeda and her family. Tathaln laid his idea out to me and asked me to go to Fenlaros. He was completely open about it.”

You study him, waiting for some vague indication that he’s angry at Kaeda’s manipulation. But he seems entirely nonchalant.

It stings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You hate how small your voice sounds.

“Well, you and I haven’t exactly been talking—”

“I’d think a situation like thiswould override that.”

“Kind of had other things on my mind, though, haven’t I?”

“Well did you tell Tathaln he can shove his fucking vision up his ass?”

Silence.

Silence, and then the rustle of Az’s wings as he shifts on his feet.

Loud, loud silence.

You think your heart might plummet into your stomach. Your mouth goes dry. You stare at him, every inch of him, desperate for some sort of sign that his silence isn’t saying what you fear it’s saying.

But gods, it’s so very telling.

“Please tell me you’re not considering it,” you breathe.

He doesn’t answer straight away. He looks at his feet and shifts on the spot and takes his time answering like your heart isn’t thundering in anticipation.

And then he says, quietly, “I told Kaeda I would consider it.”

The words steal the air from your lungs. The picture of a Windhaven without Azriel’s presence suddenly doesn’t seem like a blurred, unlikely one. Feels like it’s being dangled in front of your face.

“What?” Your voice is weak.

“I just…told her I’d think about it.”

“Why?”

“The idea isn’t a bad one—I could hone my skills, put them to use—”

“You could also kiss goodbye to any ties you have to this place! To your family, to—to me!”

Cauldron fucking damn your voice for cracking the way it does. You’re going to break in front of him, and it’s going to be bad. You can feel your chest tightening, the idea of losing Azriel for good making you breathless and panicked and like you don’t know what to do with yourself, your hands, your entire body.

“Y/N.” Az says softly. “I haven’t given a definitive answer.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” You choke. “You’re considering it—leaving. Do the others know about this? Rhys and Cassian?”

“No. Haven’t really been speaking to them, either.”

“Is that all part of it? Distancing yourself from us until you sever your ties completely? Are you truly so angry with me that you’d choose this? To not see me anymore?”

You know immediately what you’ve said.

To not see me. Rhys and Cassian not included.

Azriel catches it, too. He purses his lips, and he stares at you.

“This isn’t about that.” He insists.

“You never would have considered this before I lay with Cassian—”

“This isn’t about distancing myself because you fucked Cassian! It’s because I want you and that terrifies me!”

The words, hard and solid as iron daggers, are actually enough to calm your growing panic. You feel them land, piercing through your skin and spreading a wanton, longing venom through your veins. You’ve spent days — weeks — caught up in your thoughts, trying to accept the fact that you want Azriel. You want Azriel. More than you ever had before.

And perhaps it says a lot about how you perceive yourself, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he might want you back.

Hearing it is heart-stopping.

You clear away what feels like a patchwork of hoarfrost that’s frozen over your throat. “I—thought you wanted Kaeda.”

Azriel makes a noise; something like a humourless laugh. “Believe me, I tried. But I don’t. I want you, so much that it burns. Burns me worse than what scarred my fucking hands. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m sick with it. I can’t sleep for thinking about you, wanting you beside me. I can’t stop myself aching for you and I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Blow after blow after blow, these words. Sour and sweet, pleasant and horrific, love and hate. You feel like you know everything and nothing at once. Like you understand what he’s saying but not quite.

But your honest response croaks out of you, “And if I want you, too? What then?”

Azriel’s jaw ticks. And he presses himself hard against the wall as if he’s trying to disappear through it. “Then,” he says, “that makes it even worse.”

“Because you’d sooner run off to another camp than give yourself to a pathetic excuse for an Illyrian like me, right?”

“Because I would sooner damn myself to a miserable existence in Fenlaros than allow this to turn into another thing of beauty that could be ripped straight from my hands. I’d sooner not see you at all than have you and lose you. And I’d rather base my decision on hypotheticals and protect my heart than give it away and wish I never had. If that makes me selfish—”

“It makes you,” you grit your teeth hard, blink furiously through forming tears, “a fucking coward.”

He pauses. “Then I’m a coward.”

But he isn’t. Never has been. Not when he was locked up in his hateful father’s keep and forced to bear his half-brothers’ twisted cruelty. Not when he came to Windhaven and was targeted here, too, simply for being different. Not through anything you’ve faced together in nine years of friendship.

Azriel has never been a coward. You will not accept it. You will not let him become one.

If he wants you like he says he does…you’re not going to let him have the sole choice of ruining this. He can try to push you away, but you’ll push back ten times harder.

“You think I’m not scared?” You move away from the counter, taking slow steps closer to him. “I am. I’m petrified. But fear is not cowardice. To fear and to face it head-on is to be brave, Azriel. When have you ever balked from fear?”

He’s watching you near him with what seems to be nerves. He swallows. “Never. But I know which of my battles to pick.”

You slow to a stop in front of him. Your body is inches from his, and his warmth and scent are like a punch to your gut. “It isn’t a battle to want.”

“No,” he agrees. “But it’s a battle to need.” So blatantly — he doesn’t try to hide it — his eyes drift to your mouth. “I was wrong before. I don’t want you. I need you.��

“And you’d rather run from that. You’d rather run than need me.”

“…Yes. I think I would.”

Finally, you close the miniscule gap between your bodies, slamming your hands either side of him, against the wall. You fight the curling of your lips when you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“What are you waiting for, Azriel?” You challenge. “Run.”

He pauses.

He does not run.

He snarls, and he grabs you by your jacket, and he hauls your mouth to his.

He tastes like the tang of sweat and blood, but also like the heavy fir trees that guard the mountains, and the crackling of a roaring fire, and the fresh berries he puts in his breakfast every morning without fail. He tastes like Azriel, and you think that taste might be the answer to every dark thought and doubt that has ever plagued your mind.

Without hesitation, you're bunching your hands in his shirt and pulling yourself against him, close as you can possibly get. This kiss is not a sweet kiss in the name of tentative practice. This kiss is a reckoning, and a choice, and it’s the past nine years in flashing moments that have led you up to this point.

Azriel makes a low, wanting sound and flips the script, using his grip on your jacket to spin you both until you’re the one pushed against the wall, and he’s pressing you there. Slotting a firm, muscled thigh between your legs. He pulls his mouth away from yours to pepper quick, biting kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You gasp, and he gasps back.

“I want you.” His voice almost sounds like a plea — a plea for some solution to this. As though it’s a problem. “I can’t stop myself wanting you.”

“So don’t.” You breathe back, pushing the very centre of you against his thigh. “Stay in Windhaven and forget about everything else. Stay with me. Have me.”

“You make it sound so easy—”

“It is.” You pull his mouth back to yours. “It’s easy. We can be easy. We can be—”

Just down the hall, the opening of the front door cuts your words right off. Footsteps follow. It’ll just be a male returning from training, but it seems to send a tidal wave of ice-cold reality straight over the two of you. Azriel stares down at you, lips parted, still panting.

The nameless male passes by without even sparing either of you a glance. Azriel pulls away.

He turns his back to you and rakes a hand through his hair. You can only watch. So fast, he’s facing you again.

“I—I need you to give me time to register all of this.” He swallows. “I can’t…think right now.”

Do the words sting? Yes. Were you hoping that he would just impulsively let go of his fears and say fuck it? Absolutely.

You should be angry. You should tell him that if he truly wants you, needs you, then he shouldn’t need to think.

But something about the lost expression on his face speaks to you. He’s always been guarded. Always struggled to face his emotions head-on. So many years he spent locked up, trying to convince himself that the loneliness didn’t ache, that his heart didn’t wish.

If you push him right now…it’ll end up with him further away from you.

So it’s the hardest thing in the world to straighten yourself out and pretend your lips aren’t tingling, begging for another taste of his mouth. It’s an effort to put how you feel aside for his sake.

But maybe it’ll be for your sake, too. You are angry…somewhere beneath all the longing, the passion. He didn’t tell you about Tathaln’s proposition. He’d been considering it without consulting any of you. That hurts.

He watches you, waits for you to say something, as you reach for your boots and tug them back on. You came here to tell him what you’d found out, and you’ve done just that — and then some.

When you’ve laced up your shoes, only then do you look at him. Try to hide the bleakness from your face.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” You tell him, and it’s a promise. “But can you do me a favour?”

His eyes sweep over your face, and he nods. “Always.”

“Before you make a decision about Fenlaros…” You actually have to stop yourself and swallow down the lump that forms at the words. You try again, “Before you make a decision about Fenlaros, please just…talk to Rhys and Cass first. The three of you have been a strong unit forever. Forget the troubles that we’ve had and just…just remind yourself of what you’d be leaving behind. Fix things with them. Talk to them.”

He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. Nods. “Alright.”

“You don’t need me, Az.” You say as you turn away from him. “But them? You’ll always need them.”

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The strutting confidence with which Kaeda Baralas usually carries herself is entirely absent as she enters her father’s study.

Her wings are limp — a telltale sign of nerves, intimidation — and it’s an effort to keep them from drooping.

Wings are supposed to be worn proudly. Hers were left intact for a reason. Never will she forget that fact.

Tathaln sits behind his desk, oozing authority, even through menial tasks like going through his correspondence. As Kaeda stops before him and threads her fingers together, she feels much like the younger version of herself — that little girl always trying to think of ways to impress her papa.

“Well?” Tathaln asks without looking up.

The female clears her throat. “He still hasn’t given me an answer.”

Her father pauses, goes deathly still. Kaeda hates that stillness. Dreads it. Knows it means she’s disappointed him.

The Camp Lord places his pen down, and he asks, his tone slicing, “And why have your efforts not been enough to glean an answer?”

Kaeda purses her lips. “I’m trying, father. It’s — he’s harder than I anticipated. I didn’t expect him to be so attached to Windhaven.”

She watches, stomach turning, as the great male before her stands and rounds the desk. He perches on the other side of it and studies his daughter.

“Your brothers seem to be having no problems with the missions I gave them.” He tells her. “Why do you let me down?”

How is she supposed to answer that? Azriel is simply…not what she expected. He’s unlike all the Illyrian males she’s surrounded by. He’s profound, sentimental, caring. He values more than just violence, than war.

“I got the go-ahead from the High Lord that the ball can take place.” Tathaln announces. “We will be amongst a room full of males with potential, who may join our cause. But they won’t if we don’t have some ground to work on. If I don’t have something to show them — warriors who can advocate for us. Like the shadowsinger.”

Kaeda’s gaze lowers. “I’ll keep trying. I’ll ask again.”

“Yes. You will.” He pushes away from the desk. “Because let me remind you of something, lest you’ve forgotten.” A step closer has him towering over her, and he’s…humongous. “I do not give you the freedoms you have, just so you can waste them. I did not leave your wings intact because I abhor the practice of clipping them. I told you to earn them. To hone yourself into a weapon that I can use.”

“I know, father.”

“And what do I do with weapons that are useless? That can’t be used? I rid myself of them. Make no mistake that I would do the same with you if you can’t give me what I need.” A sneer contorts his brutal, beautiful face. “I don’t care what you have to do to attain it. Trick him, force him, bed him. Just get your ass back to Windhaven, and don’t return until the shadowsinger is on side. The ball will be held on Starfall — you have until then.”

“I—”

“Go.”

End of discussion.

He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, her ideas.

He doesn’t want to know that his daughter, deep down, is not capable of the callousness of which he very much is. That in Azriel, she sees a person who is, perhaps, as lonely as she is, and insecure, and trying not to be, in an environment where those things get you killed.

He doesn’t care to know that all she really wants is for her father to throw his arms around her and tell her he loves her, is proud of her, no matter what.

No. He returns to his seat and doesn’t spare her another glance. She’s dismissed.

She takes to the brutal skies and makes her way from one hollow place to another.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Cassian decides two chapters into the book that reading isn’t for him.

He’s just so fucking bored. Rhys is somewhere being all moony eyed over Zakai, Roza and Y/N are still in Velaris, and Azriel still doesn’t seem interested in talking through their issues.

So he’s resorted to this — plucking some weird romance novel off the shelf and giving it a go. Some dramatic tale of a human girl who falls in love with a beast who drinks blood and glistens in the sunlight. Two chapters down, he’s tempted to throw it into the fire — but he remembers that it isn’t his book and returns it to the shelf instead.

He could go to a tavern, but those aren’t fun on his own. Could seek out one of his many sexual conquests for a good time, but something about arguing with his closest of friends translates, for some reason, into his dick refusing to get hard. He’s too churned up for an orgasm, and too churned up to give one out.

So, sleep it is. He heaves a deep sigh and drags himself over to the stairs, feeling mighty sorry for himself. He’s barely placed a foot on the bottom step when a knock falls on the door.

He turns, striding over too fast. He hopes for Rhys, or even Az, anyone—

But Kaeda slumps against the door frame, and he immediately wants to scowl.

Her eyes are glazed, her usually pristine appearance a little unkempt, with strands of cherry red hair slipping free from a ponytail and a stain of some sort of liquid on her shirt.

She hiccups, and the smell of booze rolls from her. “Azriel here?”

“No.” Cassian’s jaw ticks.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Probably at the dorms, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Don’t you have a rock to crawl back under?”

She makes a vague noise and bends at the waist, planting her hands on her knees. “Think ‘m going to be sick.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“Can I just come in? Please? Need…need water.”

Cassian really, really doesn’t want to let her in.

If he had his way, he wouldn’t let her into the camp, let alone his house.

And he’s a shitty enough person that he’s tempted to turn her away…but not shitty enough to actually do so. She’s clearly wasted, and in a place like Windhaven, a lone, drunk female is a target.

So he grits his teeth and steps aside, and Kaeda doesn’t hesitate to stumble in. She heads straight for the couch, slumping down—

“If you puke on that,” Cass tells her, striding over to the kitchen, “I’ll hold you upside down and mop your vomit up with that obscenely red hair.”

Kaeda seems to find it funny. She snorts. Cassian ignores her and fills a glass with water.

He stalks back over. More or less slams the glass down on the coffee table and then sits at the far end of the same couch. “Your water. Drink it.”

The female grabs the glass and gulps it down, droplets rolling down her chin. Cassian has never seen her so…normal.

“Why are you drunk?” He asks.

She returns the empty glass to the table. “I drank alcohol.”

“Give me a straight answer.”

She sighs, and swivels on the seat so that she’s facing him. She’s a little unsteady as she tucks her legs beneath her and says, “Because I’m a desperately unhappy person, and I can’t do anything right.”

Cass stares at her. He isn’t convinced. She seems mighty happy every time she struts through Windhaven, giving pretty, sultry smiles to different males and revelling in their attention.

“I have so much pressure on my shoulders.” Kaeda says. “I can’t afford to get it all wrong.”

“Everyone has pressure on their shoulders. Welcome to the real world, princess.”

Another snort. She shakes her head. Never seems bothered by Cassian’s sharp-edged words. “You don’t get it.”

But Cass reckons he does. He narrows his eyes as he looks at her — thinks that her perfect outfit probably costs more than his entire wardrobe. Thinks that the fact that she’s got to her age, as a female, and hasn’t had her wings and spirit ripped away from her, is a very lucky thing.

“Oh, I get it.” He bites back. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. A spoilt girl who gets everything she wishes for and still wants more. You have riches and a good standing, and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

“…Don’t have any friends, though, do I? Not like you and yours.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re such an insufferable toad.”

Kaeda stares at him, and he stares back. Gods, he really cannot stand her. Even the way she looks at him makes him want to punch something.

But then she throws her head back, and she bellows a great, loud laugh.

That annoys him, too — that nothing he says, however harsh, seems to bother her. Maybe he simply wishes that he could be like that. So strong.

“Why is it that you hate me so much, Cassian?” Her laughter ebbs into a quiet chuckle, and she’s leaning forward to crack him a smile that has sent better males to their knees. “Tell me.”

Cassian, too, leans forward — tries to scowl that smile out of existence. “Because I think you’re up to something.” He answers. “And I think you’re going to hurt my friends. And if you hurt my friends, princess, I hurt you. It’s that simple.”

He means it. Kaeda can see he means it. And the threat should intimidate her, but it doesn’t.

It makes her hungry. Ravenous.

His hate for her is a challenge that she wants to chase. Every barbed word, every scathing glance —

It sets her on fire.

And she’s happily not thinking about Tathaln, or Fenlaros, or Azriel, as she grips Cassian by the cheeks and slants her mouth over his. She kisses him with such heat that for a moment, he forgets who she is. Her tongue makes its way past his lips—

He shoves her off him, probably too hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Before she can answer, the front door opens, and Azriel is wandering in.

He takes in the sight of them and stops. Stares between them.

His expression is…indifferent. Like he knows what he’s looking at, but he really could not give a fuck.

And then he clears his throat, and turns to Kaeda. “You should leave.” He says. “Cassian and I need to talk.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @katherinearcheron @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @azriels-mate2

[shrenvents]

hihi!!

i loved ur dean blurb and i was wondering if you could do a similar one, but for sam?? and possibly make them enemies to lovers type beat

you're such a good writer too btw :))

a/n: tysm for the support!! ofc I gotta follow up with some sam content, enjoy🫦

Hungry Eyes

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, side-wind, unprotected, m!receiving, overstimulation, language, some angst, size-kink

Pairing: Sam Winchester x you

Summary: You're a hunter, familiar with Sam and Dean's work —and that wasn't a good thing. So, it took no time at all for you to bump heads with the youngest brother, though it becomes difficult to ignore the underlying attraction there.

Word Count: 2k

...

You crouched low behind the thick underbrush, breathing steadily as you surveyed the clearing ahead. The late afternoon sun painted the scene in golden hues, illuminating the blurry figures of two men, struggling against a group of snarling demons. Your heart raced—not from fear, but from that familiar adrenaline. You had been trained for this, to hunt the monsters that lurked in the shadows, and protect those in need.

Just as you braced yourself for a fight, unexpectedly, you recognized one of them. Sam Winchester... The hunter who had opened the gates of Hell, fed on demon blood, and dismantled every hunter's code in a hungry pursuit for power. He and his companion matched their descriptions spot on, and a swell of anger surged within you, merging with the adrenaline.

The Winchesters were the last people you wanted to help, rumoured as selfish and pathetic, yet there they were, fighting valiantly to save a young girl caught in a demon’s grasp.

Against your better judgment, you emerged from your hiding spot. You rushed into the fray, taking down one demon with a swift slice of your charmed blade. It felt surreal; to combat alongside a man you despised by name. As you worked together, you couldn’t deny the rhythm that formed between you, each of you covering the other’s blind spots.

When the last demon fell, silence enveloped the clearing. You stood panting, blood pumping violently through your veins. You then narrowed your gaze onto Sam and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed in your chest. He was dishevelled and dirty, but even covered in grime, you could see the strength in his handsome features. 

But that warmth twisted into disdain as you recalled why you hated him. “You’re lucky I don’t bleed you out myself Winchester,” you spit hostility, using your sleeve to wipe your blade clean as you turned away. You felt his heated stare bore into your back. It was a mix of confusion and something deeper, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on it. 

“Right,” he snapped rather sarcastically, voice low, clearly stung. “Thanks for the help, I guess," he uttered, followed by a mumble of, "Whoever you are."

You rolled your eyes. His wounded pride brought you a sense of satisfaction. You liked not having bothered with the usual pleasantries between fellow hunters, or even an introduction. However, you couldn't shake how painfully aware you were of how attractive he looked. Your mind warred with your heart, anger battling lure.

Months passed since then, and fate had an unsettling way of pulling you deeper into the web of chaos that surrounded the Winchesters. One evening, on a cool January night, after a particularly gruelling encounter with a demon, you found yourself in the same motel room as Sam. You both got soaked by an abrupt tidal of rain, and though you changed into some of the boy's spare clothes, Sam made no effort to switch out of his drenched attire.

He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, head in his hands. A heavy, uncomfortable silence filled the air, dense with the weight of loss and failure. Another causality was had, and it seemed to affect Sam in a different way than you and his brother, who have grown disturbingly desensitized to death.

You observed Sam, and something inside you softened as you recalled the stories you’d heard—how he had lost so much, which later led to all the Hellfire and bloodshed. The vexation you carried for him began to fade, replaced by a deep-seated empathy. Your instincts kicked in, and without thinking, you approached him.

“Sam?” You called softly. He didn’t respond, the shadows of despair looming over him like a shroud. Disturbed by his silence, you knelt beside him, uncertain yet compelled to bridge the gap between you two. With a tentative hand, you rested it lightly on his back, which tensed, muscles tautening under your cool touch.

When he finally looked up, his eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears, though they held you with such an acute regard. Without a word, you sat down beside him, the side of your thigh flush against his when you embraced him. It was an impulsive act, a comfort that transcended what defined your strange relationship. Surprisingly, he melted into you, his body shaking with silent sobs. He clearly was desperate for someone to lean on, especially with his brother still outside tracking the monster that attacked you all. 

Minutes passed in that quiet cocoon of shared grief before he pulled back and peered down at you with a vulnerability so scalding, that you nearly shied away. His gaze was disarming and it had a glint of something you had only seen momentarily, on the day you met.

Then his eyes darkened, demeanour shifting. You inhaled sharply and held that breath. The warmth of his presence, so close, burned your skin like a fever —and then he kissed you. The world stilled and the only sensation you felt was the soft, tentative flesh pressing against your lips. It was more of a question rather than a demand; It was gentle —just like you'd grown to understand Sam was.

After a second of hesitance, you shoved his buff chest away with both hands. “No,” you spoke firmly, heart stuttering. “You’re just… you need comfort right now. This isn’t fair," you expressed, though you were unsure of who it was 'unfair' to.

Sam's brows furrowed, daze soon morphing into frustration. “You think I’m just looking for comfort?” He asked before sighing your name, his voice hoarse, thick with disbelief and pure frustration. You shuddered at the depths of his tone. “I want you. I'm tired of pretending that I don’t.”

His words hung in the air, laden with a truth that veered your perspective entirely. The walls you had built began to crumble, and all the reasons you had for hating him felt hollow. You couldn't even look into his puppy-dog eyes, as they surveyed every emotion that flickered across your face.

“Sam,” you whispered, grappling with the surge of feelings you had been filing away, that was now threatening to overwhelm you. “I—”

But he leaned in again, capturing your lips with his, leaving no room for doubt. This time, you didn’t retract into yourself. Instead, you thawed against him, eagerly allowing his larger frame to envelop yours.

The kiss grew frantic and you clawed at his thin, wet shirt as you wrapped around him. He then threw you onto his lap so you straddled his stocky thighs. Sam groaned into your mouth and you swallowed it with a pleasant hum. He cupped your head and pulled you deeper into his pressing kiss as if time were against you both.

Your hands roamed down his spine, keen to remove his clothes. You reached the hem of his shirt and lifted it. Sam instantly convulsed against your body and gasped away from your mouth. He let go of you, hands hovering beside your face as he paused, lost in a trance. Suddenly, his stupor cut short and he swiftly refocused on your body, eyes tracing your torso. He gulped before flipping you both. You land on your back, bouncing slightly on the mattress, releasing a yelp of surprise before Sam kneeled above you, mouth agape as he tore off his shirt, throwing it across the room. He then lowered his face to yours, frantic to taste your mouth again. You whimpered when his cold hands moved under your shirt and unclipped your bra.

After he worked off most of your clothes, leaving you in just your undergarments, your hands zipped to his belt, unbuckling it. He grunted before he began an assault on your neck, sucking it, likely leaving numerous hickeys in his wake. “Sam,” you whined, weaving your fingers into his silky hair. “Sam, I need more,” you whined some more, losing the strength in your body while he caged you in, holding you firm against him.

“More?” He questioned, mouth releasing your skin to peer up at you. His dilated pupils surveyed you, brow arching. “Yes,” you whispered airily. Biting your lip, your gaze darted to his undone buckle, hoping he would finish the job. Understanding your wordless request, he rose to tear off the rest of his clothes. You suck in a terse breath at the sight of his naked body, wetting your lips. He was big in every way and you were desperate to feel his weight atop you again.

“Come here,” you whispered seductively, stretching your arms out to him. He promptly accepted your embrace and dropped down to your level. You both sighed into one another, recognizing that this was what you both needed all along. “Jesus, how long have I been waiting for you?” He asked, murmuring to himself. Before you got the chance to respond, the head of his cock pressed against your clit, slowly sliding to your entrance.

You held eye contact with Sam, mouth wide open as he pushed into you, bottoming out in one motion. The air fled your lungs in a single exhale and you're left gasping for breath. You felt Sam watching, observing your bare chest as it rose and fell before kissing you hungrily. His tongue slipped into your mouth, memorizing every square inch.

You moaned loudly when he finally moved. It didn’t take long for him to build up a rhythm. Suddenly, he disregarded that tempo and pulled away from your kiss to straighten up. He then took one of your thighs and threw it over top of your other leg, positioning you on your side. His palms cupped your hip and you groaned at the change-up.

Sam eyed you, visibly pleased by the new angle. He then started pounding, roughly ramming into you, skin smacking against your lower half. The collision was loud and the room was crowded by your sobs and Sam’s grunts.

When you reached your gut-churning orgasm, clenching around him, he hoisted up the leg he had flipped, tossing it over his shoulder, gaining more access to you. You shouted and whimpered but he didn’t relent, letting out a week's worth of frustration, toward you, and the universe. He growled your name once, and with that, he carelessly came inside you.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, head tilting down in pure exhaustion. Your eyes fluttered shut as his warmth filled your core, making your body quake. Then he removed his hefty build from your limp one, rising to fall back down to your side. Sam hissed as he left your center, huffing as he dropped onto the soft cushion.

You watched him as he took the time to catch his breath, eyes closed. He was so vulnerable in front of a woman who had threatened him, several times, and it was an alarming sight. To have Sam simply breathe you in, and take you savagely, as if you were his first meal in decades.

Your mouth practically watered at the view of him after sex, tousled hair and sweat glistening across his forehead. Biting your inner cheek, your hands slowly glided towards Sam’s cock. His eyes shot open —wild and stunned— before they squeezed shut again when you applied pressure. You fisted his length, stroking him till you felt cum leak from his tip.

You rubbed him a few times, listening intently to every breath and groan that left his throat. It didn’t take long for him to cum a second time. He just about whimpered your name, weak to your touch, liquefying further into the bed. His hands quickly gripped your wrists when you continued to stroke him even after his orgasm. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, almost in exasperation, though you knew that was his usual play with sarcasm.

“You're killing me here,” he murmured breathlessly, to which you grinned smugly, whispering into his ear, “Don’t tempt me Winchester.”

[hor3nee]

• Vows •

Gojo figuring out how arranged marriage works.

CW/TW: Fem! reader, Arranged Marriage, Heavy suggestive stuff, Mentions of virginity, Condoms?, Gojo typical flirting, Reader & Gojo ages implied to be very young (18-23), SFW (Lmk if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Gojo x Reader

AN: Part 2 of the arranged marriage fic. I will die on this bitchless Gojo hill.

• Part 1 Here • AO3 Link •

"You look as beautiful as the day I married you hon'." He says with his characteristic wide smile, proud of himself for that line. Even threw in a sweet pet-name, the kind girls like.

"You married me, like, two weeks ago." He should not be proud of himself for that line.

The silence is almost deafening after that, and Gojo hates the quiet. Can't stand it. He's not used to it, he's loud and obnoxious, he's self-aware of that though, part of his charm he says. Charm, he's got an endless bountiful of it, in his ego-ridden mind at least, and honestly, he's not wrong. There's absolutely nothing Gojo lacks.

Killing curses as though it's walking through a park, handing out checks like he's got an unlimited supply of them. A living breathing powerhouse, a god even, some could say. He's young, a very young man, but he's already hailed by Jujutsu society and about anyone with a semblance of knowledge of who he was, The Strongest.

Fresh into adulthood and he's already considered one, if not the most notorious man in Jujutsu society, the potency he holds is incomparable to any other. Handsome too. Fluffy pearl white hair, legs for days, a nice build, toned, keeps it all maintained effortlessly, genetics or the such he thanks for it. A flirt in nature, girls fawned over him, how could they not? An attractive dashing young man such as himself of course they do.

Never been with one before though. A woman.

He didn't date in his teens, school was grueling, he was the strongest and he was busy, always. He could get a girl all buttered up on words sure, he has one hell of a mouth on him... Couldn't actually ask one out though, or kiss one, or get laid by one. His experience with them is non-existent. Truthfully, Gojo is as virgin as a virgin could be, he seems like he lacks in nothing, but relationships? He's clueless.

Yet here he is, married. Weaved into a union with a woman. The papers signed, wedding ceremonies done, vows out and said. Sealed his whole self to another, to you. And as are you, sewn into this 'relationship' same as he is to each other. Orchestrated by the hands of Clan elders, arranged before either of you had met each other.

Fourteen nights of sharing the same bed since, living together as spouses. It's odd, confusing, Gojo who bathes himself in self-assured composure twenty-four-seven, hasn't the faintest idea how this works. But, he is Satoru Gojo, he's hot shit, and you haven't had any complaints yet. Even if you're only two weeks into marriage, he's got this.

Just like he's got everything else in his life, he's sure of himself. The two of you have slowly, but surely gotten more comfortable with each other. Gojo does well, friendly and welcoming by nature, albeit it can come off as cockiness, he brings energy into every dinner you two share so it doesn't feel jarring and off-putting eating with basically a stranger who you'd call your spouse.

The times you touch, comes off as natural. A smooth one he is, Gojo, craftically slipping his hand by your ear to tuck a strand hair, nudging you awake in the morning effortlessly so you don't get startled. The touch of your knees when you sit beside each other. It feels natural, he makes it feel natural.

To you.

But Gojo? His brain is working in overdrive, has been since the day he took you home from the wedding. He didn't realize it at first, still full of himself in ever-lasting confidence, but as quickly as the first two weeks of being newlyweds went by, so did the semblance of stability he held in his ego. Neither of you had even shared a kiss yet. That should've happened by now, right?

Fuck.

Wait, should you two have fucked by now? Lord knows he's thought about it, a lot, he's a young man stocked full of endless libido. And you are his wife, and you're pretty. Every feather-light touch he's managed to sneak in effortlessly you seemed at ease in, but he's been mentally reeling if it's too far. Too inappropriate, but then again you are his wife.

He's your husband, you two are literally married, living together, sleeping together. Sleeping together only, of course, sex feels like something in the distant future. He'd hate to pressure you, especially since you two are just starting out, technically already locked in, till death do us part, but truly just at the start of companionship with each other.

But Gojo, is impatient and a bit aloof. He's not gonna push for anything, but when he saw the condoms at the store and thought 'Hey I have a girl now!' what else was he supposed to do? Immaturity at its finest considering how he's now sat with you, and the condoms stuffed into his back pocket while you two sit on the bed and you'd just shot down his sad attempt at flirting. With his own wife.

"...Is there something you wanna tell me?" Your eyes are glued to your phone as you ask, but he notices they flicker onto him. He's staring, isn't he? You've gotten used to it, his eyes just have a mind of their own, he can't help it he always looks like he's glaring even when he's not, and after a week spent with you sharing a home with him, he can't help himself but look at you. You're beautiful. And you're his.

"Maybe." He'll settle for being a smug little shit instead, still staring at you as he speaks.

"Maybe?" You repeat, putting down your phone in interest as he clearly tries to lure you to talk.

He hums, shrugging innocently and crawling to your side of the bed, used to be his but the night of your wedding you unknowingly took that side and he's been letting you rest on it since. Seamlessly, he pulls his face to yours in a swift but not sudden motion, his nose almost budding with yours.

There's a shared glance, a look into his eyes as he looks into yours, and the density of the air in the bedroom suddenly shoots up straight to 100. Ticklish bouts of his breath fanning lightly against your cheek while he smiles at you, expression, as always, never faltering. But movements telling. He takes your chin by his narrow fingers. You hadn't even seen them move to grasp your face, too transfixed on the look in his palpitating eyes instead.

"Can I kiss you?" There's a second, a moment for you to think, drawn out by the way his voice glides through your ears as he asks. Two weeks together, vowed to one another and you've found yourself caught in his gaze alone. You're starting to feel it, the drum of your heart responding to him.

And so, you nod, his grasp on your chin so gentle you don't even notice it's there holding your face near his as you do. It happens quickly, but it feels like an eternity, a good kind, a soft sort of mere milliseconds between the nod of approval and him moving forward catching your lips against his. His lips are soft, lulling against you and though brief has you leaning into him for more, slouching into him like you're calling for him to caress, to feel more of him in the moment, and he does that, his hands moving to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him.

Once it's done and you two, in natural timing, pull away with a slight wet plop noise breaking the silence you can see it in his eyes. Desire, need, and maybe, just maybe, love. It's small but it's there.

He meant it when he said he liked you, then on that first night, purely by expectation, you're his wife. Of course, he likes you, you're supposed to like him, he's your husband. But two weeks in and he's understanding it more, what it means to like someone, to have them as yours. To have you as his. His dazed expression from a kiss alone tells you that, this is real. He's married and he just kissed a girl, the girl he's promised his life to.

"..Gojo-"  You murmur as he reels from the kiss and gathers himself, a goofy grin plastered on his hazed expression.

"Mhm~" He purrs at you, starting to get giddy.

"Are those condoms?" He blinks at your question, stare breaking from your eyes and your lips he'd left wet with his saliva he'd been caught up looking into, to where your eyes had turned to look. He follows your eyes and looks to see the box out of his pocket, crumpled slightly from him sitting on it, spilled open over the bed.

The rubbers are all over the bed.

His hands don't pull off the sides of your waist, and his smile doesn't falter. Instead, his smirk grows, and he turns back to look at you in the eyes again. Giddy expression is written all over his face, his fingers pulling you closer with ease, because you lean into it and situate yourself closer as he does so, responding to him.

"Yup!" Gojo Satoru has no room for shame. Much less with the pretty woman he has as a wife. Marriage, the foundation of family, what makes a house a home, as his elders told him, he's getting it now. Having you here only two weeks it's already starting to feel properly shared with you, his house, your home, both of yours home.