#assassination nation angst

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk

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

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

➵ word count: 30.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has she been listening all along?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think about this guy?” 

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

“Okay, then what about this one?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How the hell is he going to raise a child? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit. He’s cute. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll do it.”

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

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

“y/n!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch. That hurts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And he’s hot!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, this is just pretend. 

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

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As it seems, fate has other plans. 

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

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

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

The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires. 

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

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

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

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

“Eomma?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is still practice… right? 

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

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

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

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeongguk is late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?” 

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

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

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

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

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

You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeongguk- Love?”

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

“I know this sounds silly-” you begin. 

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

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

“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M- maybe we could hold hands?” 

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

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

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

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

“Can I suggest something?” 

You nod, agreeing. “Anything.” 

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

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

“Then can I hold you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C- can I?” you stutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guk- love, I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s it, angel?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fan fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction

[jeonjcngkook]

industry baby: bts jeon jungkook collab

lights, cameras, action!

turn the lights down low and the music up for the newst collab to hit mainstream screens around you. whether you’re reading about this through the hottest magazine in town, hearing about it through the newest tracks to hit streaming platforms or watching it all go down on demand; immerse yourself with the incredible seventeen new fics from our talented writers that are bound to be the newest talk of the town. afterall, we’re all part of the industry, baby.

title: part time lover | by @sketchguk​

pairing: investigative journalist!jungkook x daycare-teacher!reader

genre(s)&au(s): smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au

summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jungkook. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jungkook desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: the never ending man | by @joheunsaram

pairing: animator!jungkook x journalist!reader

genre(s)&au(s): ghibli studios au, documentary au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, maybe smut

summary: reclusive award-winning animator jeon jungkook is known for works of whimsy, creating heart warming epithets that provoke reflection of the world. when the news of his early retirement shocks the world, you decide to bring the man behind the pen to the forefront, documenting his last work. his fans deserve to know him, much like you do. after all, in his ten years in the industry, you're the only journalist he has ever deemed worthy of interviews.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: malevolence | by @jeonjcngkook​​

pairing: vampire-pornstar!jungkook x human!freader

genre(s)&au(s): modern vampire au, porn star au, smut, pwp, predator pray

summary: in a world where vampires live amongst the human world, it is strictly forbidden that hybrid relationships exist between the two. but for jungkook, bending the rules is just as much fun as bending his women; so when the opportunity for him to break more laws occurs, it only makes sense that he hunts you down to join him on set.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: hi, baby | by @sailoryooons​

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x pornstar!freader

genre(s)&au(s): strangers to lovers, pornstar au, pwp, slow burn if you squint

summary: from the moment jungkook met you on set, he was head over heels. the only problem? you weren’t scripted as his partner for any of his sex scenes. but there would always be another chance to sleep with you - right? after months of bad luck,things going awry, and mismatched schedules, jungkook finally gets the invitation to participate in an episode of the aphrodite house where he’s asked to pick his favorite pornstar to film with. it’s his dream come true and he can’t wait to have you.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: chatroom | by @chryblossomjjk​

pairing: nerdy-virgin!jungkook x camgirl!reader

genre(s)&au(s): smut, a lil fluff and humor, strangers-to-lovers

summary: absolutely ravenous and sexually frustrated, jungkook decides to join a chatroom.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: best lover | by @joonberriess

pairing: stalker!jungkook x stalker-cam!girl

genre(s)&au(s): yandere, smut, angst

summary: a devoted fan leaves you in confusion and terror when he starts appearing outside of your streams. but whoever said you were innocent too?

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: ambivalence | by @mercurygguk​

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x pornstar!fem reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies to lovers au, pornstar au, angst/smut, tiny bits of fluff

summary: you and jungkook used to be a thing before your careers took off but it ended badly, the result being hatred for one another. now, the universe is sick and twisted in all sorts of fucked up ways and brings the two of you back into each other’s lives; on the set for a porn video.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: tired of pretending | by @gimmethatagustd​

pairing: musician!jungkook x ghostwriter(f)!reader

genre(s)&au(s): non-idol musician, coworkers to lovers, slowburn, smut, fluff, angst

summary: jungkook is known for his sensual pop songs that profess a love so deep fans regularly speculate who might be the recipient of his affection. outsiders don’t know that you’re the one writing his songs as his ghostwriter. while jungkook gains fame and fortune by unknowingly singing love songs written about your love for him, you feel yourself growing even more invisible.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: industry baby | by @joonberriess

pairing: solo-artist!jungkook x prissy-brat!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies w/benefits au, smut, small amounts of angst

summary: solo artist jeon jungkook has always been one for controversy despite being one of the best out there. his notoriety for drinking, partying, and breaking hearts reaches a all time high when he drops a diss track, however not just aiming for the industry, but for you too. you don't know what's worse, him revealing that you fuck on the low or him calling you the "industry's baby".

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: rolling stone | by @kooktrash​

pairing: idol!jungkook x non idol!reader

genre(s)&au(s): idol au, friends-w-benefits, smut, angst

summary: he was a rolling stone with no ties to anyone or any place and that’s how he and his fans liked it. now he’s found you and it’s never been this hard to convince someone that he’ll stay.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: happily ever after | by @kookingtae​

pairing: shy!jungkook x freader

genre(s)&au(s): reality dating show au, angst, smut, fluff

summary: previously on a reality dating show, you had brushed off fellow contestant jungkook’s crush on you in favor of the exciting, toxic fling you had with taehyung. but now that the cameras have stopped rolling and you’re back to spending everyday life with the boy you friendzoned on national television, you’re faced with the realization that maybe you made a mistake. maybe reality tv isn’t reality at all.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: a case of you | by @jeonqkooks

pairing: actor!jungkook x actress!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies-to-lovers, slight fluff, angst, slight smut

summary: jeon jungkook is the show business’ golden boy ever since he rose to fame seven years ago. with a face sculpted by the gods, as well as oozing charisma and talent, it’s no surprise that he turns heads and steals hearts wherever he goes. but underneath that facade of the perfect man whom everyone adores and the highly acclaimed actor that every casting director wants to book, there are hushed whispers left and right that jungkook is a nightmare to work with. as the actress starring alongside jungkook in his upcoming drama, you have a front row seat to see if he’ll prove the rumors false, or if he’ll make the biggest project of your career go up in flames.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: love spilled canvas | by @caelesjjk​

pairing: painter!jungkook x actress!freader

genre(s)&au(s): friends to lovers, angst, romance, smut

summary: fame isn’t everything it’s made out to be. the pressure to be perfect. the highest of expectations weighing on your shoulders, it all becomes too much to bear. when it all comes crashing down, you seek out the person who has always felt like home and take up refuge in his gorgeous apartment that’s more than far enough away from your movie star life. jungkook is a painter. the most talented one that you know. but what you don’t know, is that he’s been in love with you for years. so of course he lets you stay with him for as long as you need. but when he finally lands an exhibit at a very high end gallery after you’ve gone back home, the last person he expects to see walk in is you.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: sticky situationship | by @rkivian​

pairing: tv host!jungkook x reader

genre(s)&au(s): fluff, crime au, crack, smut, great pretender au, the ugly truth au

summary: it isn’t lost on you, your local, hot shot tv host trying to distract you from the fact that he isn’t who everyone thinks he is, because he’s doing quite a terrible job. but… you might as well take advantage of it.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: not like the movies | by @here4btsfics​

pairing: screenwriter!jungkook x reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies-to-lovers, angst, smut, fluff

summary: the biggest mistake you ever made was in college when you hooked up with the one and only jeon jungkook at a graduation party. you two had hated one another since high school when he betrayed you, and sleeping with him was a moment of weakness. fast forward five years later, you’re a successful screenwriter, mainly for romcoms, and you just got an amazing opportunity to help write for a movie for a major production company. the only problem? jungkook was signed onto the project as well and you two have to work together without killing one another in the process.

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

title: PR disaster | by @ughcore​

pairing: actor!jungkook x publicist!reader

genre(s)&au(s): enemies to lovers, smut, comedy

summary: after a slow year in the business, you unexpectedly find yourself employed by Hit Ent, tasked with the unfortunate role of taming infamous rake jeon jungkook in preparation for a movie role that could make his career. with the intention of cleaning up his image, you aim to find him a respectable fake girlfriend, hardly expecting to find the task a whole lot more challenging than it seems - especially when you get to know the guy behind the headlines…

➝ [PRESS PLAY]

hosted by: @jeonjcngkook​ & @mercurygguk | collab theme by: @mercurygguk​

#industry baby collab #btshoneyhive #bangtantheatrenet #bangtansorciere #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts drabble #bts smut #bts imagine

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.7)

Summary: reactions from team avatar when they find out your ozais assassin

warning: mentions of scars, not very happy gaang, mean katara!, angst

masterlist: here!

most previous part: here! (all other parts can be found in my masterlist!)

authors note! hello!! idk if anyone will be reading this but if you are welcome!! i haven't posted to this series in YEARS so please forgive me as I'm very rusty at writing but please enjoy!

Unified screams erupted upon Appa. “YOU’RE WHAT!”

“Aang what have you done! You literally let a murderer on Appa! She’s going to kill all of us! Katara was right, and I can’t believe I ignored her.”

“I KNEW IT! Quickly Aang, land Appa and let’s get her off!”

Unable to take it anymore, Toph lost her cool. “Can you knuckle heads shut up! I highly doubt that she will kill us, why the hell would she listen to you guys fighting all the time when she could end her misery by taking you out.”

Reality hitting Sokka and Katara, they finally piped down, allowing Toph to continue.

“Look, what you said is highly questionable. I’m not saying that I trust you, but you’re going to have to give us more information than that or else I’ll throw you off myself. Got it?”

You sighed. At least someone in the group had more sense. “Yeah, of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well for starters a name would be great. Oh and maybe, I don’t know, how and why you’re the Fire Lords Assassin?!”

You almost wanted to pull Katara’s braid for the irritating look of satisfaction on her face. “Right okay… well my name is y/n. uhhh and I was forced to become his assassin when he caught me after I broke into the palace three years ago.”

“That’s it?! Nuh uh lady. I know he’s the Fire Lord and had done some awful things but why would he do that to a child?! You’re either lying or somethings still missing.”

There was a lot to weigh up. To suddenly reveal everything about you would be too much and would get you thrown off Appa anyway. Yet to reveal nothing wouldn’t let you gain enough trust to even last a day. Leaving you to share the one thing you knew so little about yourself that you didn’t care if they knew and hopefully enough of a miserable, pitying tale that they’d let you off the hook for the time being.

“My parents aren’t in my life, they never were. I don’t know who they were or why they did it. All I had was my trainer, Zemin. In his time, he was the most notorious Assassin in the entire Fire Nation and when he retired, he never took on any students to carry on his legacy - if you could even call it that. Every other trainer was ecstatic because this meant that their students would earn the most bounties. Until there was me. I don’t know why he took me in… he just said that he found me as in infant and regretfully took me from an islands rocky shore maybe to sell me off somewhere. I suppose he realised he could make even more money from me if he trained me until I could pay off debt for him raising me. I did the one thing assassins could do, kill. All the money I ever earned from each bounty went straight to him. Luckily enough, I learned quickly, and I got to my final payment when I was 13, then he would have set me free.”

Horrified, Aang couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was nothing like this in the Air Temples growing up. “Luckily enough?! How in any universe is that lucky!”

“Most assassins in the Fire Nation, and others, are stuck paying off their guardians or trainers well into their adulthood. Because of… certain tactics and advantages, I became quite popular if you could put it that way and most of the people, I had to take care of were…” Halting, you knew that if you verbally said some lives are worth more than others, Aang would probably go into cardiac arrest.

“Well, some had more people wanting them gone so the bounty was higher.”

“How does this have anything to do with you working for the fire lord! I don’t see why Zemin would let you go if you were doing so much for him.”

Your strength was fading. You hated yourself for how much you scretly enjoyed having people around that weren’t as idealistic as those in the Fire Nation.  “He didn’t. I got an anonymous mission to take out a high general in the palace. So high, that it was going to be enough for me to finish my debt.” After not being met with screams you felt reassured to continue…. they seem to be taking this well…

You took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “On my way out, I got caught in the middle of an Agni Kai. The fire lord wasn’t too pleased I killed one of his generals or interfered with punishing his son. Yet somehow in his psychopathic mind he saw it as an opportunity to pledge my allegiance to him.”

The silence amongst the group was short lived.

“YOU MEAN ZUKO?”

“YOU KILLED SOMEONE.”

“AND YOU ACCEPTED?”

You scrunched your face. Maybe this was a bad idea to tell them. But it was too late to go back. “Yes, it was Prince Zuko in the Agni Kai, that’s how he got his scar. Yes, Aang I did kill the general, but to be fair I haven’t killed anyone since then… And Katara if you were being tortured every day for 8 months, I’m sure you would wear down too.”

The waterbender was unsatisfied with your answer. “Unbelievable! Of course, you did! Everyone has a choice in this world, and you chose the fire lord. You’re nothing but a coward.”

“My life was on the line! You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh please, y/n. I do. I know everything! Sure, you were raised to assassinate others, but you can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know what you were doing when you were standing before Ozai. I would have stayed in a life of suffering than go with him.” Shaking her head, she pierces you with a disgusted look, “You’re no better than Ozai. No better than Azula.”

As Appa continued to glide through the ever-ending expanse of the sky, it seemed nothing could break the suffocating tension that encompassed everyone upon his saddle.

Toph was the only one to speak up. “Didn’t you hear her Katara? She hasn’t killed anyone since then! She’s surviving. If you ask me… she’s braver than any of us, you never know what could have happened to her if she got caught not actually killing her targets!”

Irritated Katara only grumbled, turning away while leaving the two boys to think about how they felt about you. Despite giving them answers, they still had so many questions.

It was undeniably clear that Katara has made her mind up about you, and you were sure everyone else was the same despite the earth benders attempts at comforting you. Hence, as you sat there across from the four of them, you were the first to break eye contact, turning your head to the side as you searched for something to focus on out there in the sky. Bird, a cloud, anything. You didn’t have the heart, the courage, to argue against what she said.

Unknown to you, Aang shuffled closer to you scared that his angry friend might hear him going towards you. His words only just loud enough to hear above the wind he whispered to you… “Its okay y/n. I don’t really understand what you’ve done or what you’ve been through but when youre ready.. you can tell us.

That was the first time your heart ignited a comforting warmth.

As Appas soft paws skilfully landing on the hard earth, you felt your heart drop inside you. What do I do now? Mind racing through all the possibilities, Toph seemed to have decided what to do before you could even stand.

“Hey! Come with me.”

Jumping off Appas saddle you landed on your feet with such a skilled silence, Toph had to sense your heartbeat to even realise you were next to her. Setting off towards where she’d set up her sleeping area, it was best you stuck closely behind.

“Don’t think about what Katara said, she doesn’t get it.”

“How so?”

Stalling in her tracks, she turned her unseeing gaze towards you. “She doesn’t know what its like to be born into a life that you don’t want. And she definitely doesn’t know how hard it can be trying to escape it.”

Unsure with how to reply, humming in understanding was the best you could come up with.

“Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I know you most certainly don’t need me, but I’ve got your back.”

The next day had gone by agonizingly slow. With Toph trying to teach Aang earth bending you were left to your own devices since Katara decided to tag along. Although you found yourself tailing Sokka as he went his own way looking for food unaware of your silent giggles seeing him get stuck in the ground.

“...big things eat smaller things. Nothing personal. But this time, it didn’t work out that way…I admit it, you’re cute…”

You decide to finally reveal yourself, tired of your lack of entertainment. “What are you doing down there Sokka?”

Letting out a girl like squeal, he’s horrified at getting caught in this position. “Nothing!”

“You look like you could use some help.”

“I don’t want help from you!” You dismiss it. Surely he has no other choice but to make himself acquainted with you.

“Yeah, right. It’s funny, you’re probably the third person that has ever said that to me. The second in about the span of 48 hours.” you cant help but divert your attention towards the cute animal annoying him. “Aweee look at this cutie!”

“Get away from it!”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I don’t want you to hurt it!”

“Please, I actually quite like animals. They’re a lot better than humans anyway.”

“I- well… fine! Just go away?”

You scoff, “Why’s that?”

“I don’t like you!”

“Hmm… is that so.”

“Yes, of course it is!”

You’re done feeling sorry for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t like me, or do you feel that way because of your sister?”

“I- well… argh! Fine! I don’t know.”

“Well… why don’t you talk to me and work it out for yourself? If you still dislike me so much I’ll leave you be and get someone to come help.”

A  silence fills the distance between the two of you.

He sighs, caving in, “So.. this Zemin guy. Did he REALLY not give you a choice?”

Looking up, you stare at the clear sky. ���I learnt early on in my training that I didn’t have a choice or options in life other than what he wanted. Any exercise I rushed through, half assed, or tried to skip through when he wasn’t looking came with consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“The kind that keeps all of my clothing and bindings on so I don’t constantly get pitiful looks or too many questions.”

He scoffs, “prove it”

Staring at all your layers you sigh, “don’t say I never warned you.”

Peeling off all your layers one by one until your down to just your tank top and pants, you decide to take off your face mask last. Your eyes meeting Sokka’s, you notice him swallow thickly. But its you to break the ice first. “In all fairness, most of them are now from Ozai. The older they look… well I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.”

“b-but-“Fuck why did I have to make him uncomfortable.

Unable to take it any longer, you pull him out from the hole in the ground. “Its fine.”

You turn to walk away after helping him, but he grabs your scarred wrist, the feeling of the textured skin making him internally wince. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you expose yourself like that. Its horrible that you had to experience that… hell we look the same age!”

“Everyone is on different paths. Look, lets just forget about it..”

Sokka feels like he could bust into tears “No! you don’t understand. I’ve seen the effects of the fire nation… hell they took away my mum. I still remember it, sometimes I have weeks where I keep reliving it in my nightmares, only finding peace when im awake. Its like im being haunted. But- but you?! You have to face it whether you’re awake or asleep”.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can’t handle the intensity of his words. Theres nothing you can do. Nothing you can say. You hug him. You don’t remember the last time you held someone. It feels weird, almost wrong. But as he squeezes you back, tightening the embrace, you understand one thing. You have an understanding with the water tribe boy, despite how dark it may feel.

Hours pass by as you sit with sokka talking about useless topics until the other three join you once more. Feeling weariness in their gaze, you realise you forgot to put your layers back on. Now everyone can see your face and scars.

Only Aang has the courage to speak with you.

“Hey. Uhhh, y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’m sorry for not speaking much with you since yesterday. I didn’t mean to, it was just a lot to process personally! Growing up with the Air Nomads, I was taught that killing is wrong and that under no circumstance should that be the answer. If I’m completely honest with you, I still stand by those teachings and to have someone who has… killed… so close to me and the people I care the most about is… unsettling.”

There it was. You knew despite how much he was trying; you knew he wouldn’t be able to see past what you did. What you are.

“I understand. I don’t blame you, or anyone for reacting the way they are, and I know what it feels like to want to protect those who mean something to you.” You glance at Sokka, remembering how he understood.

“Just… please understand that I’ve realised what I did was wrong and while I can’t change everything that I have done, I’m trying to move away from that way of life. I don’t want to be a killer anymore. I’m trying my best to fix it.”

“I know…. Its just-“

“You don’t trust me.”

“What?! NO! I mean…. I don’t know. You clearly have good inside of you but it’s hard to look past.”

“I get it. I’ll head off then, the world needs you Aang and I won’t be the one to stand it your way.”

“No! stop! Please! I know I said it’s hard for me to do, but I clearly see you trying your best. I know you won’t hurt me. I just… I suppose I need to open my eyes more. See you for who you are now, what you’re doing now.”

But what if you can’t? What if I’m still that person, no matter how much I try to shove it away. This is what I have been made to become?

“Okay.”

Letting out a nervous quiet laugh, he glances back to everyone. “okay well… lets eat!”

Zuko stares at the sky in the heavy downpour. “You always through everything you could at me. Well, I can take it. And now I can give it back!”

Lightning cacks in the sky before his eyes.

“Come on!”

“Strike me! You never held back before!”

Met with only the sound of the world around him, he feels helpless. Lost. Alone.

Screaming out, Zuko falls to his knees as the rain and guilt encompasses all of his senses.

His voice scratchy from screaming, he can hardly croak out… “You never held back from her."

taglist: ​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @slythergirlimagines ​​​ @whiskeywinter89​​ @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins​ ​ ​ @calciumcow @ilovespideyyy @callums-keith @nnon-it-up @blackhood5sos @chewymoustachio @tiffy119 @reclusive-chicken-nugget @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​​ @simpinforsukka​ ​ ​ @sokkassuki​ @spearbatty @kaylove12

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko #the gaang #zuko angst #atla zuko #prince zuko #avatar aang #aang #toph #sokka #suki #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko x aang #aang x katara #atla aang

[mugentakeda]

i saw fanart for this age old unfinished fic and was so interested by the premise that i simply HAD to give the concept my own spin.... Ill put my notes under the cut cus it got kinda long lol

-FIRST OF ALL. i headcanon lu ten as a powerful firebender (like, lightning bending powerful. not an expert at it yet, but can generate it at will. only recently picked it up before the siege.) that can Also use a weapon. he picked it up for funsies and ended up taking it seriously and then excelling. he learned under piandao and in turn later introduced him to zuko. His weapon that he made with piandao was a more traditional jogekama yari, which he had on him when he was captured. long feng destroyed it and had a new jogekama yari made for lu ten in a more sleek earth kingdom style, with longer and more savage blades. **ALSO: lu tens jogekama yari is based on saras yari from samurai champloo!!!! i just made the side blades curved in opposite directions (which made it a jogekama instead of saras type of yari) -lu ten does not interact with the other agents. whether brainwashed or amnesic in this, hes not even one of the secret police that go around arresting people. hes a lone agent that works Directly under long feng and is more of an assassin and spy thats permitted in and out of ba sing se for the missions and jobs long feng sends him on, unlike the rest of the agents. as a gift for his (made up) birthday, long feng gave him a hand carved stone earring. Yes, its a tracker. yes, lu ten knows that. No, he doesn't care and wears it anyway. his boss can do what he wants, and he trusts his boss with his life (lol). the other dai li agents know of lu tens existence, less have seen him with their own eyes, none are permitted to speak to him if they do. they dont know hes a "nonbender". -i havent decided on whether or not i want lu ten brainwashed in this or simply amnesic?? it would be neat if he was the brainwash soft launch since the ba sing se conspiracy brainwashing only started After the siege. lu ten is a firebender, has that fn royalty brand iron willpower, so youd think thats hard to brainwash especially if he was the soft launch, but if long feng kept up the sessions regularly over the course of 6-ish years (and as their brainwashing techniques improved), id doubt it would rub off. its a seven layer salad of brainwashing. and even if he was amnesic rather than brainwashed, theyd still need to do some adjustments in lu tens head to TOTALLY wipe out any idea of firebending, on top of regular chi blocking. -as for the amnesic part, i read a theory that introduced the idea that lu ten being killed was an inside job orchestrated by ozai. which i dont think would be canon, but it would be pretty cool?? like especially considering how FAST he jumped on azulon about heirs. very suspicious indeed. and all too convenient: have a group of moles set in irohs army, once lu ten moves out away from iroh then corner him, kill him, make it look like the earth army did it, sneak back to the fire nation, ozai gets the crown. easy as pie. -and to combine one of MY OWN aus with the above, aka the one where zhao and lu ten were both taught together under jeong jeong, the first time that zhao REALLY made a big move into ozais pocket was offering to be the head mole in irohs army. it made perfect sense to ozai, and he gladly sent zhao on his way- him being close rivals with him will catch him off guard and make the job far easier. and if zhao succeeds, and KEEPS succeeding, when ozai undoubtedly snatches the crown, he will grant zhao all the rewards and titles he could ever want until the cows come home. snazzy deal.

so whichever one of those you guys find cooler will be the one i go with because frankly both of them have the same amount of fun angst and drama idk......................

-as for lu tens face and arm, i base that off how i think lu ten died, not even gna lie. in the case where he is dead i think half his skull got crushed open and his arm was blown right off from the bicep. the stitches are just for aesthetic purposes. i was inspired by how scars are drawn in one piece, and because they give a "frankensteins monster" type look, which i found fitting, since this is a 'came back wrong' trope/winter soldier-esque au. the bandages covering his face was a suggestion from an anxious long feng to hide his face in public, while the ba sing se conspiracy was still fresh and the citizens might recognize the spawn of the dragon of the west if they looked long enough.

-as for lu ten and long fengs relationship, i havent thought about it enough, but im definitely imagining smthn along the lines of "you were always working for me, i picked you up and trained you when you had nothing, you owe me your life and loyalty", mixed with some gentle stockholm syndrome. like, a combination of "the king and his most loyal guard dog", a very strange psuedo father-son relationship??? (which was honestly accidental on long fengs part. but he kept it up because he found the irony amusing. yes he will try and rub that in irohs face. yes iroh will beat his skull in for it. its chill)

-this has nothing to do with the au but please see iroh and zukos body language in the third panel of the comic... i love to portray them as protective of each other... zukos blade placed before iroh, irohs arm switching from shoulder to shoulder as zuko turns, always placed between him and whatever is approaching... Heurghhh (GRIPS HEAD

#BUT YEAH I HOPE U GUYS LIKE TJIS ... if that ends up being the case maybe ill talk abt it more and expand a bit further... #BUT ONLY IF U GUYS LIKE IT I PROMISE. #yes this woudl probably change the outcome of book 2 thats a whole other can of beans #lu ten #iroh #zuko #long feng #atla #avatar the last airbender #alicias art

[fahye]

a note on 'high heat, low stakes'

it's been interesting already seeing people react to 'low stakes' as part of the tagline and as a selling point for swordcrossed, because in this particular context it does NOT mean 'no conflict, no angst, all fluff'.

it's signalling expectations for where this particular book falls in the marketing category of romantasy.

low stakes for romantasy means that there are no fates of nations or armies or the very nature of magic hanging in the balance here. nobody is the crown prince of anywhere or a magical assassin sent to kill them. this is a romance novel about falling in love with your wedding vendor and trying to make it in the wool industry. there's conflict. there's angst. there's intrigue. there is fantasy worldbuilding. there are even sword fights!

the stakes for the characters involved feel monumental and very personal.

however, the stakes for the world as a whole are.......low.

which will mean it won't appeal at all to some readers, and some other readers will say THIS SOUNDS LIKE EXACTLY MY CUP OF TEA, THANK YOU, and that means - hopefully! - there's less chance of someone picking it up and getting a very different sort of book to what they expected, and being disappointed.

(if they manage to not expect the explicit sex scenes with that cover design, my existing reputation, and the words 'high heat'... well, we can chalk that one up to a failure to Read the Clues.)

#swordcrossed #as for COZY as a descriptor #I'm never sure of the scale here #but let's say #MORE cozy than a marvellous light #LESS cozy than legends and lattes

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Moonlight Sunrise (Part 1)

Minatozaki Sana x reader

GENRE: angst, fluff, non-idol

TYPE: Short fic (part 1 out of 3 maybe?)

Slowly making your way down the dusty, unfamiliar roads, you passed several guards waving large indigo-purple flags.

“Only two more days before the labyrinth opens!” they yelled, “Find the Luminite Stone and save the princess from the labyrinth!”

Several men, presumably the best knights and warriors of their kingdoms, crowded around the guards, sizing each other up and boasting about their wins.

As you passed by the crowd, you quickly pulled down your hood, trying to avoid any suspicion. There was a low possibility that anyone recognized you, as you were more of an assassin, always with your face covered. However, you were worried that others from the same profession might be present as well.

It was almost time for the annual labyrinth challenge, where warriors and knights from all over the world traveled to the Minatozaki kingdom, one of the most powerful kingdoms existing, to save the princess and win her hand in marriage. The only child of King Minatozaki had been cursed by one of the eastern witches after they were accidentally omitted from the baby’s birth celebration. It was rumored that she had one of the most angelic faces to grace the earth, but right after her 17th birthday, she disappeared from public view altogether.

A labyrinth of a thousand acres suddenly appeared at the borders of the kingdom, shrouded by dark clouds and vine-covered walls thousands of meters high. In the core of the labyrinth was the Luminite stone, a stone that grants the beholder any wish, and the princess’s soul was also bound to the stone. The princess was said to only be seen in the labyrinth, forever lost in the dark.

King Minatozaki loved his daughter dearly. Although he was reluctant to marry her off to just anyone, he knew that he himself couldn’t manage to retrieve the stone with his daughter's soul from the labyrinth. He wanted his daughter free from the grasp of the labyrinth, so the only way to do so was to hold a competition every year when the gates to the labyrinth opened.

Anyone who managed to make it out alive with the stone would be able to have their wish granted, but at the same time, as they now had the stone, they would be in control of Princess Sana, and the entire kingdom would be inherited. This prompted countless greedy men to try, hoping to have their deepest desires fulfilled and to possess the most beautiful human to grace the earth. However, not once had anyone made it out alive from the past ten competitions, all disappearing mysteriously.

You couldn’t care less about owning an entire nation, let alone marrying a random princess that you had never seen. You were there for the one wish that would be granted by the Luminite Stone. You had someone to save, and that brought you out from the private, invisible life as an assassin.

.

.

.

.

The sun was setting as you finally reached the golden gates of the castle. Its towering walls, adorned with intricate carvings and banners bearing the kingdom's crest, loomed majestically against the dusky sky. Each night leading up to the competition for the week, the King hosted lavish banquets within the castle's celestial halls.

These gatherings weren't just about food; they were a spectacle, ensuring the competitors were not only well-fed but also immersed in the grandeur of the kingdom. Newcomers were welcomed with open arms, and given the chance to register, mingle, and familiarize themselves with the labyrinth's complexities before the daunting challenge ahead. After all, this was probably the last time they would ever have something to eat before they met their end in the labyrinth.

The banquet hall buzzed with hundreds of men, their voices echoing off the walls. You spotted a few familiar faces from your past travels but made a beeline for the reception, preferring not to draw attention. After all, the labyrinth held not only unknown monsters but human threats as well.

“Name?” the page asked without looking up, his tired face buried in countless scrolls of paper.

“Hwang Y/N,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably and pulling your hood even higher over your face.

The page paused, his hands trembling slightly as he looked up at you. His eyes widened in shock, and he pushed his glasses closer to his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Hwang Y/N? The NightWalker?”

You nodded, expressionless, as the man cowered in fear.

“I-I didn’t expect you to participate in these events.”

“Is that a problem?”

“N-no… of course not. I guess even assassins have an eye for beauty,” he nervously laughed, expecting you to agree.

You narrowed your eyes at his comment, disbelieving how even those who worked for the princess treated her as an object.

“You should keep your mouth shut before I cut off your tongue,” you whispered in his ear, watching with satisfaction as he fumbled with his pen.

Before you could do anything else, a warm arm wrapped around your shoulders. Instinctively, you reached for your small knife, but the intruder's hand firmly grasped yours, firm yet unthreatening.

“Now now, Hwang. That’s not how you greet an old friend, is it?”

You turned to see Momo, one of your close colleagues before she became head of security for the Minatozaki Kingdom.

“Hirai,” you sighed, pulling her into a hug.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger. It’s been, what, three years since I last heard from you?”

“Five,” you grinned, feeling more at ease with Momo by your side.

“Yes! Exactly! Ever since you took down the Kim Clan, you just disappeared,” she sighed dramatically, leading you toward a table filled with exotic cuisines. She grabbed a bottle of champagne, taking a sip before passing it to you.

“The hero of the century, gone without a sound, forever remaining a mystery. Face unseen, name forever known. Until now,” she said as if narrating a fairy tale. “She shows the world her face, to save the damsel in distress.”

You rolled your eyes and took a swig of champagne. “I’m not here for the princess or power.”

“Whichever reason you are here for, I won’t pry. I’ll just be cheering you on from the sidelines.” Momo smirked, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. Her respect for your privacy was always something you loved about her.

“Anyway, I have to get back to my duties. Let’s catch up tomorrow before the challenge.” She says loudly, before whispering in your ear, “take the door on the left, and go down two flights of stairs. You’ll find the backdoor to the garden.”

As if nothing happened, she straightened up and breezed away toward a small crowd that was about to break into a fight.

You watched Momo easily tackle a barbaric man down to the floor, without drawing her sword. The crowd of onlookers quickly dispersed as Momo stood up with one of her feet on the man’s stomach, looking challenging for anyone daring to cause more trouble in her land. She caught your eye and grinned, giving you a goofy thumbs-up before changing back to her serious face.

You chuckled, grabbing an apple and the champagne, before slipping to the darker corners of the kingdom undetected. Momo working here was a blessing in disguise, she gave you the chance to get to investigate the labyrinth before the challenge.

.

.

.

.

As you navigated down a murky corridor, the air thick with the scent of age and dampness, you descended what felt like more than two flights of stairs, each step creaking under your weight. At last, you stumbled upon a wooden door, its frame nearly crumbling with decay from years of neglect and exposure to the elements.

Pushing it open with a groan, you were surprised to find yourself greeted by a scene of unexpected beauty. The garden beyond was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting ethereal shadows upon the grounds. Dewdrops reflected the moonlight like diamonds on the grass, their gentle shimmering a stark contrast to the dark, cloudy skies looming over the labyrinth just meters away.

The metal walls that surrounded the garden appeared rusted and weather-beaten, their once sturdy facade now worn and rusted. You couldn't help but wonder if they were enough to keep people out, let alone the rumored monsters said to lurk within the labyrinth's depths.

Taking another swig of your champagne, you wandered around the walls, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the still night air. Peering into the swirling mist, you strained your ears and thought you heard faint roars emanating from within. Yet, in the eerie silence of the garden, you couldn't be certain if they were real or merely figments of your imagination, born from the ominous atmosphere that surrounded you.

"Guess I won’t be getting anything out of this tonight," you thought, sighing as you took a seat on one of the forlorn benches near the metal bars.

Taking an apple out of your coat pocket, you polished it on your sleeve. Just as you were about to bite into it, an eerily soft voice echoed from the shadows looming over the corner.

"Can I have some?" A hooded figure emerged, causing you to leap to your feet.

Despite your assassin training, you hadn’t heard her approach.

The figure slowly removed her hood, revealing long, almost white blonde hair that seemed to reflect the moonlight. She was around the same age as you, her face perfectly sculpted but haunted, with dark circles under her eyes.

“I mean no harm,” she raised her ghostly pale arms in surrender.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion but nodded nonetheless, despite the blood in your body pumping in a fight. It was obvious that this being was not entirely human, but you were in no condition to fight a monstrous being before the competition. The stone was what was important, so you were willing to do anything to avoid conflicts before the challenge.

The girl walked slowly towards you, her posture and grace as if she came from royalty, and sat down on the bench. She looked up at your standing figure expectantly, giving you a soft smile as you finally sat down.

You reached into your coat to pull out a small knife, and the girl immediately flinched. But you simply used the knife to peel the apple, before slicing a piece and putting it onto her hand.

“Thanks,” she muttered, before nibbling on the piece of apple.

You took a good look at the girl. She was thin, too thin, as if she would be blown away by the wind.

“You can call me Luna,” she said finally, still nibbling on the small piece of apple.

You gave a small chuckle at the irony of her name. She did indeed look like the moon goddess herself.

“What’s so funny?”

You shrugged, continuing to slice more pieces of apples for the girl. You saw her glaring at you from the corner of your eye, letting out huffs of frustration when you never said anything.

“Normally when someone introduces themselves to you, you do the same in return,” she said annoyed. Her annoyance made her seem human, and this eased your nerves a bit.

“I’m Hwang Y/N,” your lips twitched, trying not to smile at the way Luna chewed on the apple angrily.

“I like your name,” she said grudgingly, reaching over to grab your champagne without asking.

“What about it?” It wasn’t often that someone didn’t flinch when they heard your name.

“Hwang,” Luna explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, before chugging down half the bottle of champagne.

“It means bright, right? Like the sunrise.”

“Yeah, and?” you asked, reaching over to grab the champagne from her hands. “Stop stealing my shit.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the sun,” she muttered. “Wish I could see the sunrise.”

“Why can’t you?” you asked, turning around to look at her.

Luna ignored your question, instead turning her body towards you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” she raised her big eyes to look at you, her eyes suddenly glowing a faint crimson in the honey-brown hues.

She was definitely not fully human.

You shivered slightly, both in fear and something else, attraction. No, it must be because you felt sorry for her. The poor girl seemed to not have access to much food.

“Thought I could get some clues here before the challenge,” you said honestly.

“Are you looking to win the princess over, too?” she asked with a hint of bitterness in her tone. “To control her as if she was a puppet?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

You hesitated, knowing it wasn’t smart to share anything with strangers, you knew that. But there was something about this girl that you couldn’t seem to put a finger on, it was as if her aura could power all your feelings. You couldn’t do anything but tell her the truth. It was as if she casted a spell on you, her glowing eyes controlling every move.

“I need that stone. I need to get that wish so that I can save my sister.”

Luna’s eyes softened slightly, the glowing red fading and turning back to the original brown color. You felt your body instantly relax.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s sick. She’s been sick for a few months and there’s nothing the doctors can do. Time is running out so I have to hurry.”

The image of your little sister lying in bed, her once lively face now sunken and yellow, her eyes devoid of their usual spark, sends a shiver down your spine. The very thought grips your heart. It was her condition that drove you to show your true identity and take part in this dumb challenge, revealing yourself to the public eye, and relinquishing your assassin status. Now that everyone knew what you looked like, it was inevitable that a bounty would be put on your head.

“I’m sorry,” Luna said, her voice gentle.

Her hand raised slightly as if she wanted to hold yours in comfort but thought better of it.

You shook your head and looked down at your knees. You couldn’t let anyone sense your weakness.

You heard Luna get up from you, this time finally being able to hear her movements.

“I hope you win, Y/N,” she said, her voice soothing, passing warmth throughout your body, instantly making you feel better.

She put a small black object in your lap, a compass.

You looked up and found her walking backward towards the metal walls, a smile playing on her lips. She looked younger when she smiled, innocent even.

"Take the path on the far right, then follow my compass," she instructed, her voice echoing faintly as she effortlessly passed through the metal bars and vanished into the dark mist.

"I'll lead you the way."

You shivered, utterly enchanted and spooked by that humanlike being.

After a moment, you finally shifted your attention to the compass in your hands. It was an exquisite piece, adorned with golden rings and silver arrows.

You flipped to the back of the compass, and there, engraved in elegant wording:

Minatozaki Sana

Next chapter

Been wanting to get this out to you guys for a while now! It's quite different from what I usually write, so let me know if you want to see more of this.

#gxg #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #wlw #twice x reader #twice fic #kpop fic #wherethefireliliesgrow #itzy #twice #sana #twice sana #sana x reader #minatozaki sana #minatozaki sana x reader #sana imagines #fem reader

[tinietaehyun]

The Ballroom Facade

[Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader] [One-shot]

Pairing: Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader

Genre(s): Royalty!AU, masquerade, romance, forbidden lovers, enemies to lovers, fantasy, historical fiction, fluff, angst.

Contains: Mentions of arranged marriage, societal pressure, mentions of blood/injury, assassination plot, suggestive themes.

Link: MASTERLIST

Summary: His black feathery mask shimmers under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately.

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.”

“Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

————————-••••••••••••••————————

“This may be your birthday ball darling, but I expect no slacking off and I expect your behaviour to be just as outstanding as it always is.” You nod peering at your mother; seeing her weighty crown glimmer under the light of the chandeliers. She continues, “As always, remember to keep smiling, remain confident but not arrogant. You, after all, represent your father’s legacy and his reputation. Furthermore, you are the heir to the throne. We’ve taken the liberty to spend much on this masquerade ball for you this year despite the current battle taking place between our kingdom and the kingdom of Dunamis.”

A dreary sigh escapes your lips. You weren’t exactly surprised you were receiving a preparatory lecture from your mother before entering the ballroom, for your birthday celebration ball. Everything you did, everything you said, your facial expressions, actions, tone of voice were all perceived with such scrutiny and open to much criticism. Thus, you had to behave with utmost care and caution.

You peer at your reflection on the sleek tiled floor as your mother continues to talk. Your eyes glimmer at your ballgown which your parents had custom made for this occasion. You knew the cost of this gown was unfathomable for the common folk. Everything from the layers upon layers of dull pink tulle, the floral embroidery and translucent puffed sleeves with sequinned floral embroidery to match. To top it all off was a matching custom mask with sequins, flowers and pearls. An illustrious style befitting your status.

“Darling? Are you paying attention?” Your mother cuts in and you peer up nodding, “Mother, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I won’t let you down. I will conduct myself with honour, integrity and respect befitting the royal family.” Your mother’s lips form a gleaming smile pleased with your answer. You knew she’d be. A dreary life you led, so repetitive, so predictable. Every aspect was controlled with such care and effort.

As incredibly grateful you were for this position, you wish it allowed you some more freedom. You were restrained, held back by the title of ‘heir to the throne’ and ‘Crown Princess.’ You had barely even socialised with your own people excluding the elites and nobles of other nations. How pitiful, indeed. You had not even seen half of the beautiful scenery and nature of your kingdom yet you knew every single particle of everything that lies within the palace walls. It was your home as well as your luxurious prison.

Regardless, you had to put away your selfish desires for the sake of the people. You were grateful and you wouldn’t toss this lifestyle aside so simply. Who would? “Come darling, they’re waiting for you, after all.” You nod with a curt smile. Not too wide, after all. Just right.

You descend the grand staircase holding your mother’s gloved hand hearing a roar of applause at your introduction. The applause and seeing such elite people clap for you and peer at you with adoring gazes and expressions makes you feel as if you’re buzzing. The sea of masks adorning everyone’s faces hide their identities. You walk down with a delicate wave at everyone and bow of the head. Your mother releases your hand and whispers, “Good job, darling. Now, socialise and mingle. More allies, the better. Smile and enjoy yourself tonight too, it is your birthday after all. That is most important, after all.” She gives you a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying off to a group of noble women.

You stand there frowning for a second before painting a neutral expression on your face. Within seconds, numerous noblemen and women approach you with praises, felicitations galore! It becomes quickly overwhelming and you try your best to maintain etiquette and respond appropriately. As kind as they seemed, you knew deep down they were all looking for a loophole, something to pin against you.

You would have to scoff, as if. You had perfected your facade. You would not disappoint. You couldn’t disappoint. The weight of the crown was too much to bear yet you had no choice but to partake in the verbal tests and mind games everyone seemed to want to play with you and your parents. In a way, the theme of masquerade you had chosen for this year, fit perfectly. Everyone was just playing a facade.

You make your way around the large ballroom talking, mingling and socialising with all sorts of nobility. All the while your father and mother do the same paying no attention to you. Once again, another birthday celebration which felt like another diplomatic excursion or mission.

Drained, you excuse yourself from your umpteenth conversation and walk towards the buffet table. You take a drink to relax your throat from all the talking and you find yourself a seat to relax in. You shoo away the maids and butlers politely wishing to be alone for a while to gather your thoughts. For the first time tonight, you observe the ballroom itself.

The way everyone’s figures reflect on the squeaky clean black, gold and cream coloured tiles. The crowds of nobles conversing under the glittering chandeliers surrounded by the numerous windows that glimpsed the dark outside and encompassed with grand tassels and ribbons of black and gold. Your ears are delighted to hear the royal orchestra playing, the music soothing you. It was something you enjoyed incredibly from a young age.

Something you’d grown accustomed to, something which you loved but now grew to become bored of. Not that you didn’t like it, you were just bored. You sip your drink as the smile slips from your lips. Your eyes scan around once more and you stiffen seeing a tall man dressed in an ebony petticoat jacket with feathery details at the edges and sleek boots. A dark yet luxurious look befitting a prince even with dark raven hair sprawled over his alluring mask. His mask itself was intricate with glitter and gold accents and small, fluffy feathers lining the edges of it. A shiver runs through you at the intensity of his gaze.

You pry your eyes away. Who is that? What type of nobility is he? It’s so difficult to tell with the masks, though, you suppose that’s the entire point! The way his eyes pierced into your own. How long had he gazed upon you? Just now? The entire night? Had you not noticed him?

You slowly peer back in the direction you saw him and you refrain from flinching. He was walking towards you. An aura of mystery and allure surrounds him with the way he strides confidently, uncaring of those around him. His eyes lock onto yours unwavering; a confident, perhaps even arrogant smile graces his lips. You’re seated stiffly as he finally steps in front of you with an outstretched hand. You peer up at him, your lips trembling slightly. Something about him…made you curious. He was different from those here. No one else dared to approach you so boldly to dance.

“Would you grace me with a dance, your highness?” His voice sends another shiver. It’s smooth, seductive in a way. A small playful hint to it. You’ve been asked to dance numerous times before, but this was different. You felt compelled. For the first time in a long time, a shot of excitement rushes through your veins. Something unpredictable had walked up to you.

With that, you stand up with a polite smile, “Of course, good sir.” You take his noir gloved hand and he escorts you to the central floor under the grandest chandelier. The orchestra begin playing a new piece. The couples around you peer in curiosity at who has taken the interest of the Crown Princess. Who indeed? The violins, cellos, flutes and clarinets merge in perfect amalgamation.

“May I, your highness?” He asks. You nod looking up at him. He intertwines his fingers with yours and places a delicate hand upon the small of your back. You shiver at his touch and sly smirk graces his lips before he trails his fingers to your waist instead. A step forward, a step to the side, again, and again. Then a spin. It was almost like you were caught in a trance. You knew whoever was under the mask would be gorgeous!

“Is the princess always so quiet? I saw you talking quite a bit earlier,” he murmurs dancing with you. You hum, “I prefer quiet, talking is a chore.” A laugh escapes his lips, “Isn’t that all you do? Drawl about yourselves and your power.” You scoff at his assumption, “I do no such thing. Aren’t you a noble too?” You both spin. “Indeed I am, nothing quite compares to being the heir of the royal family though, no?”

Something about his tone and words irk you. “Well, you could perhaps say that. It is a big responsibility to bear.” He hums nonchalantly, “How unfun. Boring, it must be. To be restricted in so many aspects. Played like a puppet with strings. I know the feeling well.” You stiffen, “I am not here to get counseling from you, good sir.”

A chuckle escapes his rosy lips, “I’m aware, your highness. Merely a thought of mine.” He was incredibly articulate and composed. His footwork was impeccable. Just who is he? “Who are you? May I ask?” His voice takes a playful pitch, “Oh? You don’t know who I am? I am wounded, your highness. Am I not elite enough for you to know by name?”

Your jaw clenches, “Well, you have a mask on. I also don’t happen to remember hundreds of names of nobles I talk to around once or twice, perhaps thrice a year.” The man slyly hums stepping forward with you stepping back, “Oh do you not? I do.” A scoff leaves your lips, “Really now? Do not take me for a fool.”

“I never did, your highness. I am merely stating my ability.” You gawk at him as your eyes narrow. This gentleman was trying to outwit you, outsmart you perhaps. What was his game? “I wish to know your identity.” Another gentle spin. “Ah, ah, so eager to know are we? Am I to take this as the princess showing interest in a gentleman like me?” You glare, “No, I merely wish to satiate my curiosity.” He leans closely whispering, “Oh? Have you not heard how dangerous curiosity is, sweetheart?”

You shudder at his low tone; his breath fans your face. He squeezes your waist; almost teasing. “You look stunning tonight, your highness. This gown…truly is a spectacle to behold.” You feel his eyes run down your face, neck and body as his lips quirk up into a charming smirk. You suddenly step forward taking him off guard as you dance but he recovers, “Thank you…” You were irritated, dumbfounded, bamboozled. You couldn’t figure him out. You sway together as the pace of the music changes.

“Thinking hard, princess?” He interrupts your thoughts. You mutter, “No.” The man grins, “Surely, the princess isn’t lying to me? You’re infuriated. I can tell.” “I’m not,” you snap lowly. Your eyes widen for a second before calmly murmuring, “No…I’m not. I’m merely…” you try to find words whilst keeping your patience in check. “Frustrated?” He finishes. Another slow sway, “Call me Jun, for now, your highness.” You arch a brow, “Jun?” “That’s as much as I’ll give you,” he comments.

You sigh, “You are indeed a strange man.” He laughs before leaning flirtatiously in, “You are indeed an ethereal princess. Even in that mask of yours.” Heat floods your cheeks and your heart pounds in your chest. “Which territory are you from? Are you from another kingdom perhaps? I can’t seem to recognise you.”

“Mm, so many questions coming out of those lips of yours,” he cooes. You deadpan, “And so little answers.” In and out, a step aside.

“You are irritating,” you observe unamused. “Thank you, your highness. I do try,” he hums, making you groan in exasperation. This was getting nowhere. “Jun, I believe this conversation is growing rather tiresome,” you drawl glaring into his playful eyes. He grins, “For me? Or for you? I appear to be the one to be getting interrogated by the crown princess herself. How terrifying, hm?” You snap lowly, “Do not mock me.” “I would never, sweetheart,” he feigns. How bothersome!

“I think it’s best to end the dance here,” you huff. He pouts, “Oh dear, and here I was just about to tell you a little about me.” He hums spinning you gently, “But who am I to go against her highness’s wishes?” You gawk and scoff, “No! No, go on.” He chuckles breathlessly, moving his feet alongside yours. His aura darkens making you shiver in his grasp.

His black feathery mask shimmer under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his now icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately. “What’s your purpose here? Who are you?”

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.” “Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

Your eyes narrow and you snap, “What hoax is this? Do not toy with me.” Jun darkly laughs, “It’s not a ruse or hoax, sweetheart. You’re quite the target you know. Quite the price on your head.” You stiffen. He chides, “Ah, ah, don’t trip up, the song is yet to finish. Keep up.”

You snarl lowly, “What? I am supposed to believe you are some sort of assassin? Here to dispose of me? You would not dare.” Seething, you say, “There are armed guards, and this is utterly public, it would be imbecilic of you to do such a thing.” He lets out a sadistic cackle, “How naïve of you to think I am not skilled enough to send a poisoned knife to the neck, slit it, and escape on my merry way, your highness?” Your blood runs cold at his words.

He leans in closer, “Oh? Are you afraid? You were so headstrong a few moments ago?” He continues as you dance, “I am an assassin, sweetheart. That is the truth, and tonight I have come to take your life.” Your heart palpitates in your chest rapidly. You were dancing with a hired assassin. Who sent him? On your birthday of all days? It must be the enemy kingdom! Why hasn’t he killed you yet?

“You said I’d be finding myself lucky tonight. In what manner is this lucky?” You snarl. Jun hums amused, “You’re still alive aren’t you?” You threaten, “For now. What’s your plan, assassin? I could report you now. I could scream and all eyes would be on us.” A sly grin appears, “Oh? But you haven’t, have you? Even now. Nevertheless, allow me to correct my phrasing from earlier. I had come to take your life.” Had? He hums, “I had observed you for days prior to this through some informants of mine. Tonight I saw the famous and ever adored princess with my own eyes, and I was not let down.”

You grit your teeth, “Come to the point, Jun.” He hums, “I am. What I am saying is I was debating whether to kill you or not. Particularly when I observed you tonight at this ball, I found you to be charming, delicate, beautiful. Upon dancing with you, it appears you are witty and articulate, intelligent unlike many other royals who merely spout nonsense for the sake of it.” Intently you listen, finding it fascinating how he’s encapsulated your character. Could you trust him? Probably not.

“I don’t believe this charade you are putting up, you’re merely trying to make me lower my guard.” The music quickens and so do you both in your footwork. “I am finding myself falling victim to your charms and allure, your highness.” Your eyes widen, “I…” He hums a softer tone to his voice, “You are indeed radiant, witty and a pleasure to be around. Pragmatic and not so caught up in the theatrics of the nobility.” “I try not to be,” you murmur frowning.

“I had come with the intention to make it swift, and end it all tonight. Though, it appears you are making it difficult for me. For how could I plunge a blade into the heart of one so pure?” He feigns. You scoff, “Oh stop with the dramatics.” You become serious, “You won’t kill me, then.” He shrugs, “I suppose not, perhaps.” You snap, “Perhaps?”

The music ends grandly and he steps away from you as you both bow and curtsy respectively. A sense of allure, attraction and thrill fills you. You’ve never been so intrigued, so excited even about something or someone. It was…fun even. Not that he should know, of course.

Jun takes your hand placing a kiss upon it. You wished you could feel his lips on your skin instead of through a glove. His seductive gaze peers at you, “It was a pleasure dancing with you, your highness. An unforgettable experience.” You murmur in shock, “That’s it? You’re leaving?” He grins, “Oh? Will you miss me?” You scoff, “No- I… I just…” you’re at a loss for words. You didn’t want the moment to end. You didn’t want this bickering to cease.

“How about this?” He hums, “Leave your balcony doors open tonight. I’ll consider paying you a visit.” You refrain from snorting, “How preposterous, it is on the highest floor.” Jun gleams smugly, “Oh? Nothing I can’t handle.” You glare, “That is trespassing.” “Not if you let me in, sweetheart. Then, it’s an invitation.”

You scoff, peering at his face; at his mask. You wanted to see underneath it. A tempting offer. You wished for the thrill, something like this. You mutter, “This sounds like a poor attempt to disguise an assassination attempt.” He laughs, “I promise you it’s not. I’ll take my mask off, we can talk truly face to face.”

You bite your lip in thought; his eyes getting drawn to the motion immediately. “I…it’s too dangerous.” “The mask?” He hums almost in a sing-song manner. Rolling your eyes, you say, “Keep your measly mask on. As if I care.” He coos, “Oh but you do. You’re curious, I know it.”

“What a pest you are,” you deadpan. “Why thank you, your highness. Good night.” With that he grandly bows and turns to walk off leaving you dumbfounded. That’s it?

“My, who was that you were dancing with?” Your mother chimes in, “A potential suitor, perhaps?” You grunt, “Do not get me started, mother.”

———

The ball had ended. Fatigue hangs on your body as you slip into your nightgown and sit on the bed feeling empty. Where was he? Would he truly visit you? You peer over to the corner of your chambers where a large pile of gifts resides then at the balcony doors which were currently locked. Your fingers and legs twitch, having the strange urge to unlock the doors. As you sit up waiting for sleep to caress you, a whirlwind of questions enraptures your mind about the devilish stranger you met earlier.

Going against your better instinct, you march towards the balcony doors pushing aside the frilly curtains and place one hand tentatively on the golden handle. Just as you’re about to press down, you hear clambering and clatter followed by a grunt. You yelp upon seeing a black dressed familiar figure pull himself up over the stone railing of your balcony. He stumbles before standing on your balcony brushing himself off and he meets your appalled gaze. The male leers, giving you a bow before striding to the balcony doors and giving the glass a knock.

“I have no weapon on me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he declares. You glare to which he pouts in response, still adorning his raven mask. Reluctantly, you open the doors letting him brush past you. “You could have just left it open if you were gonna let me in anyway?” You click your tongue in irritation, “Don’t make me regret my decision.” You inhale deeply, “I have questions.”

“Do you now?” He drawls. “I’m serious, Jun,” you avers. “Ask away then,” as he makes himself comfortable on one of your velvet-tufted sofas by crossing his legs, lying down resting his head on the palm of his hand. How arrogant!

“Who wants to kill me?” You interrogate. His eyes glimmer, “Hm, well, that’s rather confidential. But for you sweetheart, sure. King Choi Dang-Eun.” You freeze, the king of the kingdom your battalion had been fighting over territory and borders for years? Jun hums, “He thought that assassinating the only heir to the throne should be a rather low blow to your nation, no? Quite the sadistic one isn’t he? He knows how much your father treasures you.”

You’re mortified at his words. You knew that kingdom was bloodthirsty, particularly their king. You’d witnessed firsthand their brutality with each battle your father came back from. Despite having numerous (failed) diplomatic meetings, nothing has worked out. Even their royal family, the heirs are rumored to be bloodthirsty warriors.

“How much has he paid you?” The man before you chuckles bitterly, “Oh you’d laugh if I told you the truth. You’re worth a lot though.” You snap, “Say it.” Jun remarks bitterly, “As much as you’re worth, I am getting paid nothing. Consider it…a duty of sorts.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “Duty?” “Don’t think too hard on it, princess,” he says amused.

“You…accepted to kill me…for free? Do not be absurd!” You proclaim. Jun rolls his eyes, “Not like I had much choice, sweetheart. I would have loved to receive payment just as much as you.” You blurt frustrated, “That’s not the point!” He merely chuckles. Frowning, you ask, “You’ve still not hurt me. You’re even entertaining my questions. I don’t understand you?”

“You’re fragile, princess. I am used to slaughtering soldiers, orcs, griffins, thugs. Not pretty princesses like yourself. This mission was tough for even me,” he admits making you feel rather odd inside. Your eyes narrow, “What are you going to say to the king? He’s known to execute those who disobey, no?” Jun bitterly chuckles, “Don’t worry about me. Nothing I can’t handle.” You frown, “But-“

He hushes you, “Trust me, I’ll be fine. Really, sweetheart.” Jun grins, “Worried about me sweetheart?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You inquire. He peers at you with an intensity before standing up and walking towards you. Further and closer until you feel your back hit your dressing table.

His arms trap you between the table and him encasing you as he presses against you. “Such pretty lips asking all the right questions.” He glimpses at your lips, “To be honest princess, I am fond of you. I have a feeling you’re not gonna tattle on me so easily. You crave this excitement, this thrill.” “I don’t,” you murmur breathlessly. “You do. That’s why you haven’t called the guards yet? You haven’t screamed or even now…you’re not pushing me away?” Silence remains on your lips.

“You feel it right? This. This feeling between us, it’s exhilarating, no? From the moment our eyes met, to when we danced to now,” his whispers caress your ear. Your heart races and body shivers. “The height of royalty, the heir, Crown Princess, someone so untouchable, yet here I am.” Your eyes glance intently at his mask. You had to see his face. You had to! He takes note of your gaze and with a dark smirk trails his fingers down your arm to your hand. Grasping your right hand, he brings it behind his head where you can feel the satin ribbon. With a sharp tug, the mask falls clattering to the ground.

Your lips part in awe. The most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes upon. His sharp eyes, nose and jawline. His luscious lips and raven hair that sprawled over his pale forehead. His features worked harmoniously together as if sculpted by the gods themselves. “Hm? Stunned speechless, sweetheart?” Heat courses through your body.

“No,” you spout feeling flushed. “I think you’re falling in love,” he utters playfully. “With someone I just met, I’m not daft.” He goes quiet for a moment before chuckling, “Ah, of course. You’ve not seen me before tonight, but I’ve seen you.”

“Impossible.” “Possible, in fact, it’s true,” he grins. “Where?” He purrs, “Ah, but that would ruin the fun.” “How insolent,” you vent.

He leans even closer, “Anyway, I think the real question you have to consider is, you letting a man with questionable intentions into your chambers at night?” You huff, “Guards are right outside.” “So? I’m trained to take people out in seconds.” He chuckles, “Not you though. I thought I made that clear. It’s cute, that fear in your eyes.” “Sadist.” “Perhaps, I got that from my father.”

“Well your father is horrid then.” Jun releases a bitter laugh, “That, I can agree with you on.” Your heart pangs. “Is he an assassin like you? Is it a generational thing?” You question. “Well, I suppose you could say that.” His expression sours for a moment before he hums amorously, “Anyway, you got what you wanted right? To see my face. Is it to your liking?”

“Perhaps.”

“What can I do to convince you? Would seeing my body change your mind?” You gawk appalled, “How vulgar,” Jun snickers, “Oh sweetheart, that’s nothing.”

Suddenly, he drags his nose along the curve of your neck, “I’m sure you’re not as innocent as you portray yourself to be princess.” You glare, “What makes you come to that conclusion?”

“Letting a dangerous man like me in your chambers. Letting me pin you against your dresser. Something tells me you crave for this? Crave for someone to give you excitement. I know it too well, The yearning to be free from the golden cage and watchful eyes.” Your eyes meet in mutual understanding and your body feels incredibly warm. Your breaths are shaky. You whisper, “Who are you really?” He slyly murmurs into your ear, “Ah, ah, that is something I will refrain from sharing with you tonight. I’m just Jun.”

Your shoulders slacken and a pout graces your lips. Jun teases, “Oh how adorable.” You shove him back, “Do not call me that.” You gasp as you feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you against him, “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you since I laid my eyes on you.” You shakily breathe. “Push me away, if you wish to not continue princess.” You’re surprised at his gentleness. A gentleman indeed.

You contemplate for a second before you place a hand on his shoulder and whimper, “Please.” Immediately, he obliges by pressing his lips roughly against yours. How devious for the princess to be locking lips with a malevolent stranger. This was what you craved for. Your arms wrap around his neck as his nose brushes against yours as he kisses you deeper.

Lips move against yours; his tongue slipping in occasionally, nipping and tugging. This was something you’ve never experienced; it felt as if you were ascending. You gasp parting from him as he lifts you, sitting you roughly on the dresser.

Panting, the both of you gather your thoughts. His eyes widen, realising his action, “Princess, my apologies. It appears I got carried away.” Not that you really minded. Jun runs a frustrated hand through his ebony locks of hair and sighs, “It’s best if I leave.” He picks up his mask re-tying it onto his face. Your eyes widen in panic and confusion, “What? What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t respond walking towards the balcony pulling the door open. You grasp his arm, “Wait!” Why are you so drawn to him? A look of surprise crosses his features before he quickly hides it. “Wait, why are you leaving so abruptly? Did I do something?” You quiver. Jun removes your hand from his arm gently, “Keep looking at me with eyes like that and I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you with merely a few kisses, princess.” An oddly sweet smile appears on his lips as you become flustered. You mutter, “Idiot.” He chuckles, “Indeed, I am.”

You didn’t want this moment to end. You knew deep inside you’d never see him again. You didn’t even know his name. What if he got executed? You could do nothing. Who were you to stop him? An assassin?

Jun clambers over the railing and peers at you one last time, “Don’t look so sad, princess. I’m sure we’ll meet again, some day.” “As if,” you scoff. He shrugs, “If not…” he frowns for a second before masking it with a flirtatious grin, “Then, keep this memory and cherish it in your dreams. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?” You nod wordlessly. Pain stings you.

The night seems to take longer than usual to pass. You barely sleep; your mind filled to the brim with images of your encounter with him. How silly of you to get so caught up with a stranger, to think you could escape the cycle of everyday monotony. How could you be so foolish to be swayed by his tempting words and seductive gaze? You scoff, annoyed with yourself. He probably saw you as nothing but a treat for his eyes. Right?

Soon days pass by as usual - dull and dreary. New duties now thrust upon you as you were now of proper age. You aimlessly zone out as your parents and advisors speak about the current situation between the two rival kingdoms. The war had become stagnant- a stand still.

The other kingdom was running out of resources and their despicable king (who tried to get you killed), had suddenly fallen ill. Your father proposes, “They’re weak, surely we can propose another peace talk. They’re backed into the corner now. What say you dear?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yes. Excellent idea, father.” Your mother deadpans unamused at your lack of attention as your father chuckles, “So be it then. Get the scribe, a letter shall be sent.”

To your surprise, an acceptance letter is sent. Not signed by the king, but the heirs of the throne. He had two children, twins both vicious. How odd, you think. “You must be present in the meeting dear, it’s important you pick up on the skills.” You sigh, “Yes father.” He was right. Two weeks pass and the time nears.

A neutral spot was chosen to hold the peace talk in which a small group of soldiers from both sides were present for protection. You are seated beside your father and your eyes fix on the stunning woman opposite you: Princess Choi Ji-Ah.

Her sharp gaze and strict manner of speaking sends shivers through you. You notice the empty seat beside her. She is indeed built to rule firmly. Yet, she has a softer edge to her, than her father. You notice various scars littering her arms, battle or training scars perhaps? She meets your gaze and gives you a soft smile taking you off guard.

Ji-ah’s poise and elegance makes your eyes widen, “Your majesty, your daughter is indeed as beautiful as they say.” You murmur bashful, “Thank you,” as your father chuckles, “I am pleased to discover you are nothing like your father.” Her eyes darken and an eery smile appears, “Ah, of course. Regardless, he’s very ill, he won’t have long left.” You feel a chill at her tone.

“Ah apologies, Ji-ah, I am here! I managed to sort the supplies out,” a voice interrupts. It’s familiar. You feel your entire world spin as you set your eyes on the male. “Yeonjun,” she grits out, “I’d appreciate it if you were more punctual.” Yeonjun bows apologising to your father. His eyes scan over and his eyes widen meeting yours.

Jun. Yeonjun. “Prince Choi Yeonjun of the Kingdom of Dunamis,” his sister introduces. This was preposterous!

You glare darkly at him to which he greets back with a bright gleam. “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.” You grit out, “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Father, I need a moment, I have a headache. Please excuse me, Princess. My apologies.” They both nod as you rush out. You shakily breathe. You had kissed your enemy, well ex-enemy now. Whatever it was! Butterflies flutter into your stomach. Yeonjun looked regal, ethereal in his royal attire. Oh damn him!

“Princess,” you hear him approach you. You don’t turn around. You hated how happy you were to see his stupidly handsome face. How you dreamt of him, just as he asked. Fate had brought you together again.

“I’m sorry for not being able-“

“Silence,” you sharply quip. He halts as you turn and march up to him, “Assassin and crown prince, huh?” He hums amused, “What can I say? I’m a man of many skills.” You scoff suddenly pulling him down by his collar, “You filthy, atrocious, abhorrent-“

His lips meet yours chastely, “Mhm, go on.” “Ugly, imbecilic-“ another kiss, deeper. You part from him glaring, “How bothersome.” “Delightful you mean.”

“You missed me, no?” Yeonjun hums. You murmur after a moment of silence, “Perhaps.” He chuckles breathlessly, “It’s never a yes or no from you, is it?”

He whispers with an alluring smirk, “I have a feeling we’ll become more than just allies after today.” You hum, “In your dreams.”

“Oh don’t fret sweetheart, you are.”

#choi yeonjun #Yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #txt x reader #txt yeonjun #txt au #txt beomgyu #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #tomorrow x together #txt #txt taehyun #kang taehyun #txt angst #txt soobin #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt post #tomorrow x together yeonjun #tinietaehyun

[calderacitylovers]

Zutara SlowBurn FanFiction: Personal Favs, part II

·        DESTINY IS A FUNNY THING by Megara Pike | Published: 2020-08-21 | 198K Words | 45 Chapters

ATLA Season 3 rewrite, fills in a lot of blanks between canon scenes. From the Southern Raiders to Sozin's Comet through coronation and aftermath. Growing friendships, bonding, being there for each other, a carnival & a cave, epic spirits' appearance on the Ember island, sparring, nightmares, assassination attempts, political ruses, and covert operations. Lovely, sweet. Exciting plot.

 ·        ATLA Book 4: Ashes by elayne_cypher | Published: 2018-10-27 | 306K words | 34 Chapters

This action-packed story picks up right after Ember Island Players and continues well after the war. Zuko is facing many challenges as a new Fire Lord. Romance, tough decisions, rebels, traitors, out-of-body experiences, secret headquarters, angst, teamwork, fire jets. The story has a bunch of OCs.

 ·        Refraction by caroes3725  | Published: 2020-09-09 | 215K Words | 37 Chapters

After breaking up with Aang, Katara needs to figure out her place and role in the patriarchal world. As determined Katara stubbornly bulldozes her way through Fire Nation political scene, her feelings for Zuko grow. Diplomatic visits, Gaang reunion, bonding with Kanna, insights into the life of Caldera city, stuffy politicians, cute correspondence, tropical storm, women supporting women, assassination attempts, personal boundaries. A sweet well-written coming-of-age story with a healthy measure of slow-burn and mutual pining. Katara and Zuko are both POVs, but the story mostly follows Katara. Bonus: Mai is NOT a clingy resentful idiot, but a smart person and a good friend. Some explicit language here and there, a bit of mild smut.

 ·        I Asked You First by halfhoursonearth | Published: 2020-10-03 | 142K words | 22/? Chapters

Ongoing, incomplete. Post Southern Raiders ATLAS3 rewrite. Mostly canon-compliant with blanks filled in between familiar scenes. Zuko and Katara develop a close friendship built on trust and sharing each other’s fears and hopes. Includes mentions of implied child abuse, Lu Ten’s diaries, exploring Avatar Roku’s legacy, sharing a balcony, heart-to-hearts, a hot spring under the stars, an actual date, and artbending. It’s incomplete, but what we have is bliss. Slowburn, mutual pining. Zutara-centric, but also explores the personalities of Team Avatar and their relationships.

 ·        Katara Alone by cablesscutie | Published: 2020-05-31 | 21K words

Katara is not an “unnecessary accessory to a more powerful man”. After the war, she is willing to forge her own path as she turns to people who need her the most on her journey of self-discovery. Features character exploration, correspondence, exploring outback villages of Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, sweet reunions, and new firebending skills.

 ·        THE PHOENIX AND THE DRAGON - THE COMPLETE SERIES by JasmineTeaLatte | Published: 2021-06-11 | 100K words | 31 Chapters

This story picks up after The Ember Island Players. Zuko and Katara get to know each other during a late-night conversation by the campfire. In this story, you will find healthy boundaries, protective Sokka, a dash of Taang, sparring, funny banter & lots of flirting.

·        HESITATE by tiffaniesblews | Published: 2020-07-11 | 22K Words | 12 Chapters

This story picks up right after Zuko's coronation and spans two years afterwards. Zuko & Katara talk, share a few beautiful moments, write to each other, and reunite for the 2nd anniversary of the war ending. Very sweet, fluffy story about two sweethearts figuring out their feelings for each other.

·        LIKE WE'RE MADE OF STARLIGHT by Naladot | Published: 2021-11-28 | 5K Words

Katara leaves her post as the ambassador to the Fire Nation to take up a new one as the ambassador to the Northern Water Tribe. Her absence makes Zuko realize that he's got an unfortunate crush, which he is determined to keep secret. Unfortunately for him, subtly has never been one of his strengths—especially when he arrives in the Northern Water Tribe and she keeps taking him on what seem to be dates.

·        FIGURE IT OUT by clearascountryair | Published: 2021-12-20 | 35K words | 13 Chapters

After choosing not to kill Yon Rha, Katara rethinks her sense of self and others' perceptions of her. Or,    In which Katara learns that there’s a really big difference between being kissed when you don’t want to be and being kissed when you do. Aged-up 3B/Ember Island AU.

-  I FOUND YOU by that_turtleduck | Published: 2020-11-01 Completed: 2024-02-24 Words: 157,541 Chapters: 28/28

After divorcing Aang, Katara uproots her family and travels to Caldera. There she finds comfort, kindness and support from an old friend. Katara tries to find her footing as an independent political figure. Great story & relationship dynamic of Momtara & Dadko in their early 30s (Ember island, diplomatic meeting, dancing, turtleduck pond, letters). Delicious slow burn with rewarding spicy resolution in the end (explicit open door). Titters on the side of Anti-Aang.

Here’s a link to Part I of my personal favorites.

Here’s a link to Wholesome Zutara Short Stories.

#zukoxkatara #Katara x Zuko #zutara #zutara fanfiction #zutara fic

[imagine-darksiders]

Not your time - A Darksiders oneshot.

Hey everyone!

A commission from the lovely and generous @humboltsquid, who requested a female Reader who barely survives an assassination attempt that's carried out in front of the Horsemen.

CW: Blood, guns, assassination attempt, mild descriptions of bullet wounds, aftermath, protective Horsemen, whump, angst, fluff, Death centric.

----------

A sudden flash of dazzling light bursts in front of your face, and try as you might to keep your eyes open, you just know that come Monday, there’ll be an unseemly photograph of you squinting out of the front page of a local newspaper.

“Perfect!” the photographer grins without casting so much as a glance down at the screen of her camera.

Blinking rapidly to disperse the shadow floating in front of your eyes, you take another look out at the crowd gathered on the square below the steps of Haven City Hall.

Most, if not all of their attention is rigidly devoted to you as multiple pens sit poised over tattered notebooks, though there are some people who throw envious glares at the photographer as she retreats back into their ranks.

You have to admit, you find yourself wondering where she managed to scrouge up a working camera.

It’s hardly been a few months since Humanity pulled itself out of the rubble of an unrecognisable Earth.

Word of the Apocalypse, its aftermath and the reasons behind it spread like wildfire – words that originated from your mouth, at the behest of the Four Horsemen, all of whom agreed that you’d make a fine ambassador for your species.

Death made it apparent that he and his siblings thought very highly of you after your involvement in clearing War’s name and surviving trials no human ever had before.

You’re starting to wish they thought a little less of you now, though. This is the seventh ‘press conference’ you’ve been subjected to in the past month. That’s without all the one-to-one interviews you’d been forced into with world leaders, heads of national security, historians, religious leaders, scientist… The list goes on.

Today is just more of the same; a whole lot of reporters clamouring to quote you for their articles in cobbled-together newspapers that have finally begun to crop up around the globe.

At a glance, it would almost appear that you're standing on the steps alone. But upon further inspection, it isn't difficult to spot four, hulking figures eyeing the proceedings from the shadows.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Fury, Strife and War. Your guardians. And quite possibly the best friends you've ever had, no matter their quirks and social ineptness.

They've grown tired of the constant questions from your fellow humans, even Strife, and no doubt the only reason they're here at all today is to watch your back, despite how often you try to tell them that they don't have to worry about you.

You might as well be throwing words at a brick wall and expecting it to break.

In the corner of your eye, there’s another flash, and a split second where your heart starts to sink at the prospect of yet another photograph circling the papers. However, in less than a blink, something smacks into your abdomen with a dull, wet ‘thwack,’ forcing you to stumble onto your backfoot.

Startled, you drop your mouth open and look out at the crowd, dimly wondering why one of them had thrown something at you…

A rock, perhaps?

Strange…

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s an explosion of motion all around you.

From one moment to the next, War hauls his immense bulk in front of you, dousing you in his shadow as he rips Chaoseater from its scabbard and swings the terrible sword out in front of him, shoulders bristling with a rage you can’t yet place.

At almost the exact same time, Strife appears as if from nowhere to your right, roaring like a wild beast and, to your horror, whipping Mercy and Redemption out of their holsters and pointing them out at the anxious crowd.

A woman screams, loud and shrill enough to hurt your ears, sending blood coursing through them until you’re left grimacing at the sound, only dimly aware of the tiny burn blossoming to life in your abdomen, just beneath your left breast.

No sooner have the brothers locked their legs rigidly into place than someone fills the space behind you– Fury, if the warm body pressing a little too firmly into your back is any indication.

“Strife! The rooftops!” she shouts urgently, and you can’t help but grimace again as her voice thrums through your head like a claxon.

Bewildered. you twist yourself sideways, meeting the stare of the last Horseman, Death. He was the furthest away when the rock hit you, though now he seems to warp through the air towards you with the grace and swiftness of a shadow moving across the square, and all the ferocity of a bull charging down its quarry.

Your mouth hangs open, lips twitching as the burn in your chest grows as if an insect has lodged its stinger inside your skin, and you’re about to ask what in the world they think they’re doing when you pull in a breath.

All at once, your chest hitches painfully, and you hurry to throw a hand over your mouth to catch the hacking cough that takes you by surprise. You pull a face at the sensation of thick saliva spattering against your palm.

It had been a sunny day not moments ago, but as Death approaches from your left, the temperature around you plummets by a staggering degree, as if you’ve been cast into the eye of a polar storm. Growing increasingly alarmed by the second, you pull in a smaller breath, one that rattles and wheezes in its way in, but doesn’t quite manage to fill your lungs as you move your hand away to call Death’s name.

The last thing you expect to see when you briefly glance down is the splatter of rich, glistening blood freckling the previously unblemished skin of your palm.

It’s only then that the thought occurs to you; it may not have been a rock at all…

“Death?” you whimper shakily, lowering your trembling hand and touching your fingertips gingerly to the spot on your torso that’s beginning to feel even worse, as though instead of an insect, a lit cigarette has been jammed against your skin with no signs of cooling.

You’d flinch away from the sensation were you not being tightly boxed in on every side by four, bridling forces of nature.

The eldest of them, Death, is upon you in an instant, dragging the shadows of buildings along in his wake as if, for just a moment, the darkness itself is beholden to none but him.

There’s a fire raging in the Horseman’s wide and simmering eyes that contradicts the icy hands that reach out to catch you by your shoulders when you take a faltering step towards him, only to crumple as the numbness in your legs makes itself apparent.

A familiar chill pours down your spine. One you’re all-too familiar with.

They promised you had nothing to be afraid of, not while you have Four of them in your corner.

But you can’t help it.

Right now, as War bellows a thunderous battle-cry out at some unknown recipient, and the breaths start to leave you in great clouds of billowing, white air, you’re scared.

 ---

‘No, no, no, NO! NO!’

Death’s ever-churning mind howls with outrage and disbelief, even if his lips remain tightly sealed beneath his bone-mask as he holds you upright by your shoulders, suspending you an inch above the ground in his haste to scan you for injury.

He’s mutely aware that the crowd of humans have already begun to scatter, though whether they’ve been driven away by the Horsemen’s sudden act of aggression or the culprit who has just made a foolish attempt on your life, Death can’t be bothered to guess.

He knows… As soon as he caught the flash from a broken window that overlooks the city hall, he knew. And he knows, for the rest of his wretched existence, that he’ll be trying to atone for standing too far away to reach you in time. For growing complacent.

They've all grown complacent, though he’ll shoulder the blame for his siblings because they – however unwittingly – follow by his example.

He thought this would be safe.

You weren’t supposed to get hurt, this was just another question-and-answer session you’ve done dozens of times before. Curious humans seeking gaps in their knowledge from you.

Who in their right mind would dare, would even have the nerve to try and hurt the human who has been so obviously afforded protection by the Four? Not even Samael, arguably their strongest adversary, would think twice before attempting to antagonise the Horsemen.

He can feel your warm breaths hitting the exposed skin of his sternum as he clings to you, rolling his eyes down until he spies the patch of crimson blooming outwards underneath your quivering hand.  

The acrid stench of blood – your blood – is quick to slip between the cracks of his mask and into his unwilling nostrils.

Death’s muscles bunch at the intrusion and he clamps his gnashing teeth down on the primal growl that tries to escape through them.

He’s aware that at any moment, his siblings are going to catch the same scent on the wind, and it’ll be all he can do to stop them from levelling the entire city, just to ensure that your would-be killer doesn’t get away. Hell, it’s all he can currently do to keep his own Reaper Form from tearing itself loose and raking up the souls of any human in the vicinity.

As unhappy as his siblings already are though, they’re about to raise merry Hell when he makes his next announcement.

“She’s been shot,” he spits, pulling the metaphorical trigger on three, loaded guns.

As if from nowhere, a maelstrom whips up around Strife, who only just manages to lurch sideways far enough to spare you and his siblings from being crushed as he erupts into the titanic, armoured beast; Anarchy, shaking out his mane and tipping his horned head back to screech up at the sky.

Steeling himself against your sudden whimpers of alarm, Death barks, “Seventh story window to the North. Go!”

And without needing any further spurring on, Anarchy launches himself into a gallop across the street, leaping up to latch his monstrous claws into the wall of the building and hauling himself straight up the side of it, hand over hand.

War and Fury don’t look as though they’ll be far behind their brother, but Death’s voice is enough to still them before they too can unleash their true forms and give chase.                                                                                                                   

“Fury.”

Snarling, his sister whips around towards him, her expression faltering when she sees how carefully he slides his arms beneath your knees and hoists you off your feet, cradling you against his unforgiving chest.

“Rampage is the fastest of our horses,” he continues, “Find Azrael, meet us at Y/n’s home.”

She looks as though she’s about to argue, far more interested in joining Strife to enact some well-deserved vengeance in your honour, but another glance at you reminds her that this isn’t the time for personal vendettas.

Fiery hair bobs as she gives a resolute nod, then turns on her heel and raises a fist in the air. “Rampage! To me!”

Death’s attention flits back to you, secure in the knowledge that at least two of his siblings have been distracted from going on the warpath.

Speaking of…

“Brother… Is she...?” War’s voice has dipped and bowed with rage, lending him the cadence of a beast.

Before he can say another word, Death speaks, his magics flaring about him like coiling snakes, though is tone is deceptively calm. “War, I need you to guard us as we ride.”

Without another word, the Horsemen summon their steeds, and Death is forced to relinquish you to War for a second whilst he hauls himself into Despair’s saddle, immediately reaching to take you again when his brother gently lifts you towards him. You scream as he does, trying to curl in on yourself until you’re deposited in the saddle between Death’s sturdy thighs.

Then, in a moment so rare, not even his siblings can remember the last time they saw it, Death slips his hand underneath yours, trying not to let his stomach squeeze at the feeling of your fingers latching onto his. He meets your eyes, loathing the wide, terrible pain that’s been placed inside them.

Pain has no place in your life, not so long as they’re here to protect you from it.

“Not yet,” he breathes, damn-near begs, spurring Despair into a thunderous gallop with Ruin snorting wildly at his heels.

----------

It’s the agony that wakes you in the end, a raging hellfire that ignites in your chest as you startle to consciousness, never recalling how you’d come to be unconscious in the first place.

As if the unexpected pain weren’t bad enough, your heartbeat thuds strongly in your ears, which are ringing with the shouts of several, booming voices, all far too close and spilling over one another in a furious rush, leaving you feeling as though you’ve been placed inside an amphitheatre.

“- the Hell wasn’t someone watching the buildings!?” Fury’s voice, easily distinguishable from her brothers’ and absolutely drenched in her namesake.

Gritting your teeth, you screw your face up when Strife almost roars back, “Keep lookin’ at me when you say that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re blaming me for this!”

“Perhaps I am! You’re the firearms expert, as you so often like to remind us!”

“Why the Hell should that mean-!?” He cuts himself off midsentence, granting you a second of relief before he promptly redirects his attention to one of his other siblings. “WAR! If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going out the goddamn window!”

Ah, you wince, so that wasn’t your heart beating in your ears.

War’s thundering footfalls come to an abrupt halt somewhere to your right, and he promptly responds to his brother’s threat with a rumbling growl, the kind that emanates straight from his chest and spills across the room like a roll of thunder.

They’re fighting about something…. Which isn’t unusual. But lately, they’ve been getting better at not doing it around you.

God your chest hurts. What the Hell happened?

“Mmgh, ugh…” You feel like you need a crowbar to pry your eyelids apart, but at least the pitiful sound you made is enough to stop their incessant bickering.

A new problem arises though, when they instantly start to exclaim anew.

“She’s awake!” Strife gushes.

“I can see that for myself,” Fury sighs, though not without a hint of relieved laughter.

War’s relief is quieter, but no less palpable.

Through the gaps in your eyelids, you spot a flash of red surging towards you as you try to heave yourself upright, but not a moment later, a strong, uncompromising gauntlet engulfs your shoulder, pushing you down to lay flat on your back.

“Stay there,” War’s baritone thrums, as gentle as you’ve ever heard it, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Tears of pain are already trailing down your cheeks, but you suppose he means you’ll make it worse. Blinking to clear your vision, you peer up at the three, titanic figures looming over your head.

Strife’s eyes are the first you meet, glowing like raw gold from beneath his silver helm. They pinch at the corners, a telltale sign that he’s smiling under there. “H-hey, gorgeous,” he swallows thickly as if he’s about to choke, “Glad to see you’re awake again… Scared the Hell out of us back there, you know.”

You know it must have been bad if he’s admitting to fear.

“How’re you feeling.”

Before you can open your mouth to tell him that it feels as if your chest is being split in two, Fury scoffs, turning to shoot Strife a scathing look.

“She was shot, you fool. How do you think she’s feeling?”

“Sh-shot?” you croak, once more attempting to sit up, but with War’s gauntlet pinning you in place, you only succeed in squirming weakly on the-… Are you on your bed?

Your breath starts picking up, throat bone-dry as more tears spill down your cheeks. “I was shot?”

To her credit, Fury swiftly clamps her jaw shut, biting her lip and looking at least a little ashamed for blurting that out. War emits a troubled hum whilst Strife hurries to reassure you.

“Hey, hey,” he hushes, reaching out to drop his enormous hand over the top of yours, “It’s over. It’s over now. Azrael fixed you up. You’re okay.” There’s conviction in his words, but you don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or you.

You roll your neck down slightly to look him over, and it’s only now that you see the blood smeared across his chest plate.

With a sharp gasp, your heart rate skyrockets.

War follows your wide-eyed stare and grumbles, “I told you to wash that off…”

Glancing down at himself, Strife quickly snaps his head up to offer you a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s not your blood.”

Despite his efforts, this does little to reassure you.

“It’s yours!?” you bleat.

“Nah, ain’t mine either. S’from the guy who shot you.”

 Your abdomen squeezes in protest as you strain out, “Strife! You killed someone!?”

For a moment, he falls silent. All of them do, flicking pointed glances between one another as a creeping chill begins to seep inside the room, reaching your skin even under the blankets that have been tucked around your neck.

“I gave the order.”

All eyes dart to the open door of your bedroom. You can’t help the aborted breath you draw in when you see Death filling the wooden frame.

His bulging shoulders heave up and down slowly, and that dark, brooding stare is adhered to your face, causing you to squirm uncomfortably as if you mean to escape it.

 “Finally decided to stop beating yourself up, have you?” Fury mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Death so frosty, you could swear you see her shiver.

“But… but I don’t understand?” you wheeze, furrowing your brow wearily and shifting to try and ease the ache in your lungs, “What do you mean you gave the order?”

“Some fool human made an attempt on your life,” War supplies, “Strife did what we all wished we could do.”

Once again, you try to sit up, and once again the weight of War’s gauntlet stops you.

Grunting, you argue, “But, you can’t… kill someone just because-!”

“-Because what?” Death snaps, stalking towards the bed an effectively silencing you in a heartbeat, “Because an overconfident zealot thought you deserved to die simply because you spoke a truth that didn’t align with his doctrines?”

He may be the shortest of the Horsemen, but that doesn’t mean that Death isn’t several feet taller than you, able to loom over your bed like a storm cloud.

“Were we to stand idly by whilst one of our own was threatened?”

You glance up at the others, taken aback by the ferocious, steadfast frowns on War and Fury’s expressions, and the familiar glint of steel in Strife’s eyes. Not one of them are contending Death’s bold declaration.

That you’re one of theirs.

It’s a hell of a claim to come from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Ancient Nephilim of legend, laying claim to a human?

You wet your lips, but a response doesn’t come.

Death, however, seems only too ready to fill the space of your silence.

In a single, fluid motion, he lowers himself onto one knee beside your bed, and that action in itself is as poignant as his words.

Death never kneels.

The other three don’t look half as surprised as you’re sure you must, not even when their eldest, their leader, reaches out, hesitates, then rests the tips of his cold fingers gently under your jawline, directly over your pulse.

Wide-eyed, you can only stare into the sockets of his mask, breathing shallowly, missing the way his shoulders slump at the sensation of a strong, steady throb beneath his fingertips.

“You’re under our protection,” he states matter-of-factly, backed up by a concurring grunt from War on the other side of the bed, “And when the Horsemen have your back, nobody touches you. Is that understood?”

You press your lips together, both horrified and equally humbled that you could have earned the devotion of such powerful, ethereal beings.

Holding your gaze, Death firmly repeats, “Nobody.”

You still have questions. No end of them. But right now, frightened, hurt, and vulnerable, you’re wrenching heart seeks safety in one of the few places you know can offer it.

It hurts to raise your left arm, but you bite down hard on your tongue and slip your hand around what you can of Death’s solid neck.

The first sob escapes you when he leans towards you, pretending to be guided by your pitiable strength until you can wrap more of your arm around the back of his shoulders and push your damp face into the column of his throat, shivering slightly from the chill on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper against him, feeling his muscles turn lax underneath your touch.

In response, the Horseman nudges his mask closer to your ear and in a whisper that’s meant for you alone, he utters, “You’re not the one with anything to be sorry for…”

Unseen by you, the ancient Nephilim’s eyes glare holes through each of his siblings, daring one of them to comment on his moment of rare, uncharacteristic indulgence.

Per the norm, Strife is the one who struggles to keep his mouth shut.

“Aw, how come Death gets a hug?” Strife whinges petulantly, “He doesn’t even like ‘em.”

“And you believed him when he told you that?” Fury snickers.

On the bed, your grip just tightens around your guardian’s neck as his protective hand lays gingerly against your back, cold fingertips drinking up the warmth of your human body with a reverence known only to Death.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #reader #whump #angst #protective Horsemen #fluff #commission

[eternalgyu]

L O V E R ' S E S P I O N A G E

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ pairings : spy!heeseung x assassin!reader

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ genre : comedy/crack, fluff, hurt comfort + slight angst, spies!au, nonidol!au, loid!heeseung x yor!reader, unspecified time period but modern slang and devices are used.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ synopsis : Lee Heeseung, code name Nightingale, is a trained spy working for Intelligent Services. His latest assigned mission includes creating a pretend family to get a chance to catch his target, the Chairman of the National Unity Party. What Heeseung did not anticipate however, is that the little bubbly girl from the nursery could read every thought that crossed his mind at any time, and that his now loving “wife”, was a skilled assassin and her next bullseye was an expert spy…

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ warnings : spoilers for spyxfamily (obv), angst, mild dark humour swearing, graphic themes such as death and murder.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ wc : n/a.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ featuring : all of enhypen, minji of nwjns, eunchae + sakura of lsrfm (there will be some additional characters that are only mentioned briefly).

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ start date : n/a.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ completion date : n/a.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳★ an : ahh its finally happening omg?? 😭😭 this is my first smau (and fic kinda) on tumblr?? so exited fr. updates won't be as regular as I anticipated because im in college now. hope everyone who ends up reading enjoys !!

taglist: @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @dimplewonie @drunkhee @wonyofile @http-suhaa @enhastolemyheart @rikizm @ramenoil @ilyjxdz @river-demon-slayer @sleepdeprivedline

comment/send in an ask to be added 🫶

profiles...!!

chapters...!!

© eternalgyu 2024, all rights reserved

#hannie writes ✮⋆˙ #enhypen smau #heeseung smau #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen fluff #heeseung fluff #lee heeseung fluff #enhypen crack #heeseung crack #enhypen social media au #heeseung social media au #enhypen fic #heeseung fic #lee heeseung fic

[rowaelinsdaughter]

can i request a fic with fenrys where reader is super protective of him, especially after they’re freshly mated bc faes are protective and territorial. Imagine some general in doranelle says something about him being enslaved to maeves bedroom, fenrys gets sad snd disgusted with himself and reader literally jumps on the general and almost kills him bc she’s so protective and hates seeing fen in any kind of pain

author note: omg, I LOVED THIS!!!! fenrys is one of my fav tog characters and i love him. thank u so much for requesting this <33, i've changed a few things, and I hope it doesn't matter

𝕴 𝖘𝖊𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖉 ( 𝕱𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

WARNINGS: PTSD, d@ggers, blood, angst and fluff, SPOILERS THRONE OF GLASS

You met Fenrys in Skull Bay.

Being the only two female assassins trained by Arobynn, you decided to form an alliance that became friendship. Thanks to a spell from before magic left, you were able to hide your fae features.

You knew Aelin's secret back then, and you swore to take it to the grave with you.

When he was in Endovier, you did everything you could to repay the debt to Arobynn. In the end, paid every single coin. After the tests to be the king's assassin, the trip to Wendlyn and the destruction of the crystal castle, you followed her and supported her through everything. What brought you to the Bay. Where you met Fenrys.

While Aelin and the others were in Rolfe's office, you stayed outside with Fenrys and Gavriel, this one trying to ignore your flirtations. You felt attracted to him. As if a thread came out of your heart, traveling through the universe until it reached it. But you didn't tell him, and after the fateful day on the beach and the war, the two of you decided to wait for each other, because you knew that the loss of one or the other would kill you.

It had been a month since the war ended and the bond was still fresh.

The constant desire to be together, the sleepless nights, were constant.

You knew everything he had been through and that only made your instincts activate in the face of any danger, like now.

Terrasen and Wendlyn still had their tensions, and right now the emissaries of the two nations were meeting in the meeting room of Orynth Castle.

Everyone knew the Cadre and envy and disgust appeared on each of their faces when they looked at Fenrys.

Sitting next to him and holding hands under the table, you tried to calm him down by caressing his hand and sending love through the bow.

Until…

“I'm surprised to see you here Fenrys, tell me, are you warming the bed of the queen of Terrasen now?”

There was silence, every muscle in your body tenses and you only see red.

You notice the sadness and shame in your mate’s features and that is the trigger.

One moment you were at his side and the next you were on top of the emissary with a dagger at his neck.

Your knee digs into his chest and with your other foot you immobilize his hand. You get close to his face and loudly so that everyone can hear you, you say:

“Listen to me very well because I'm not going to repeat it twice.” A trickle of blood runs down his neck thanks to the pressure you exert. “I'm not going to allow you to talk like that about MY mate, so think twice, because next time I'll kill you, understand?”

Arms lift you up and, thanks to Fenrys' powers, in the blink of an eye you are in your room.

His hands cup your face and he pulls you closer to rest his forehead against yours.

You sigh, closing your eyes, relaxing thanks to his presence. Your hands also rest on his cheeks, wiping away the tears that are now running down his cheeks.

You open your eyes and Fenrys was already looking at you with so much adoration and love that your eyes filled with tears.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you, but every day I thank destiny for having found you.”

Unable to hold on and with your heart pounding at his words, you kiss him, transmitting all your love.

Fenrys had been through too much and you weren't going to let anyone or anything hurt him.

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒂𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓. 𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 / 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆.

#sarah j maas #sjm books #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #fenrys moonbeam #fanfic #fenrys x reader #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galythinius #manon blackbeak #dorian havilliard #rowan whitethorn

[sketchguk]

part time lover; jjk (teaser)

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

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

➵ word count: 484 (teaser) / 30.8k

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

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

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

➳ publish date: saturday, october 14th 8pm EST

➳ a/n: this fic is part of the "industry baby" collab hosted by the lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk! i'm so happy to finally release this fic in honor of spy x family season 2!

smut warnings below the cut!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, this is just pretend. 

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

Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.

check it out here!

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts fan fiction #spy x family au

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 4.7k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: After playing Makarov’s game, you finally have a chance to finish him once and for all. However, in doing so, you end up losing more than you expected. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Makarov waited patiently as you mentally prepared for your onslaught of lies and half-truths. Blending the two was easier to get away with the lies from a body language standpoint. Makarov was a sharp man. You had to be careful not to give anything away. No avoiding eye contact, no touching hair, nothing that can be a sign of deception. “I want to join your efforts as an assassin. My skill sets are advanced compared to many that you probably already know about. What makes me stand out is that you don’t know me.”

He quirked a brow at your confidence before waving his hand to call over the one he put in charge of his catacombs operation. Apparently, he wanted to test this. “Hand me her file.”

“We have no file to give. She isn’t found in any system. Not the US, not Europe, not anywhere.” The man confessed, feeling anxious over the possibility that this would be seen as incompetence. Luckily, Makarov believed him.

“That is impressive. An assassin that really knows how to keep a secret. Not many people know how to keep a secret nowadays. You seem to be good at keeping them and discovering them. Tell me, how did you discover this one?” He played along, his tone light as if this was all just a game to him. 

It made your skin crawl, looking at such wasted potential. Such insanity. An intelligent man tainted by arrogance. His genius had turned into madness, and it unsettled you. You had to fight through your urge to end his life immediately. “I grew interested based on what I saw from the news. I decided that my best chance of getting an interview was by going through the back door instead of the front. Your men in Italy handling your weapons shipment led me right here. Patience and planning.”

“How did you know that you could tail them starting in Italy?” He inquired curiously, eager to learn where the breach in security was so he could fix it.

You shrugged, a shutter running through you that you disguised as nonchalance. “The U.S. government’s hold on classified information is difficult at best, but not impossible. I pulled a lot of information thanks to their incompetence. Fools shouldn’t be in charge of nations.”

“That I can agree with.” Makarov nodded with a sinister smile. 

Before he continued, he called over one of his men again to fetch something to eat. “You haven’t given her food or water yet, have you? Right now, this is our guest. Not our prisoner. For now.”

The man nodded and swiftly went away like a servant serving a king. Afterwards, Makarov resumed. “You dislike the U.S. government?”

This was an easy one to get away with since it was actually the truth. You weren’t afraid to hold back on your opinion about this either. “I hate most governments. They always claim to be for the people and provide democracy, but the truth is, they have no idea what they are doing. They have no idea what the people want. Efforts to ‘keep peace’ are no more than just pissing contests for power. Someone more realistic needs to be in charge. Someone willing to make things happen despite the red tape.”

“You believe in direct action?” 

“I believe in true progress, regardless of what some people may want.” You corrected, knowing how to twist your words into something Makarov would want to hear and trust. 

Through your bobby pin, the 141 was hearing all of this go down. It took every ounce of their effort to not swoop in and get you out of there. They too could sense the madness oozing from Makarov with every word. How he questioned you, trying to figure you out. It was only your expert navigation through conversation that they were able to remain patient. 

It didn’t take long for a sandwich to be placed on the table in front of you along with a bottle of water. You eyed the sandwich, stomach rumbling for food after skipping breakfast. However, you knew better than to just eat without caution. You picked apart your sandwich, observing each ingredient carefully with the low light of the lantern. Makarov chuckled. “Paranoid that I would poison you?”

“Only idiots take what’s in front of them without thought. It’s always worth the extra time to be cautious.” You truthfully explained as you sniffed the bread. Finally, you reassembled the meal and pushed it away, refusing to eat. 

Half-hearted praise escaped your lips. “Clever trick hiding the poison in the bread. The almond smell blends in nicely with the rest of the nutty notes of the grains on the bread.”

Makarov grinned as you played his game quite well. His praise to you was genuine in contrast to yours. “Clever trick to use your nose too instead of just the eyes. You are the type to use all of your senses. A sign of a truly great assassin.”

The sandwich was whisked away, leaving you only with an unopened bottle of water. However, you opted to not take part in that either. Instead, you carried on with trying to impress one of the most dangerous men in the world. “You have assassins after you, Makarov. Though, they are pretty loud and proud about it. The 141.”

The 141 tensed up as you began to talk about them. This was one of the parts that they were dreading the most. Makarov already knew quite a bit of information about them including names and dates. However, it was your false insight that made them clench their fists. “Simon Riley, John Price, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Kate Laswell have been hunting you down, but their efforts have failed each time.”

Makarov seemed impressed by your knowledge, choosing to encourage you to speak even more. “It has been amusing and annoying to have them come after me. You sound like you have a solution to this. Is this the part where you offer your services?”

You nodded confidently, finally feeling that you were getting somewhere with the man. “Exactly. I kill off the 141 for you and I get what I want out of it.”

“What is it that you want exactly?” 

“I want you to pin the 141 assassination on Urizikstan. At the same time, I want you to kill Farah Karim, but the blame will be on the United States. Have the two countries point fingers at each other.” You elaborated your false story like a spider weaving their web. 

Makarov laughed, not expecting such a proposal from you. He found the plan incredibly entertaining and beneficial to him. You fascinated him. “You want war?”

“Nothing resets a country’s priorities like a war. Nothing lets a country’s guard down for attack from other places too. The world needs a reset, starting with one of the biggest global superpowers. When that happens, more suitable leaders will step up.” You explained further, each word coming out of your mouth more exciting than the last to him. 

He pictured the United States crumbling to dust from their own undoing. He wanted the 141 to choke on that dust. It seemed that you were one of the most capable people to make this happen. However, he was also cautious about taking things in front of him. First, he needed proof of your suggested loyalty to him.

He gave a bloodcurdling laugh, pulling a knife from his pocket to set on the table. It was brand new, clean. You made no attempt to reach for it, but you did look at its potential. It could be the knife you would stab him with when the time is right. Your fingers almost twitched with how much you wanted to plunge it into his neck. Instead, you left a compliment. “Beautiful knife.”

“A gift if you give me one in return.” Makarov offered, your blood running cold as your mind raced. What was this man thinking? This wasn’t a question exclusive to you either. The men you have come to know over the past few weeks were also racking their brains with what Makarov could mean. 

Simon himself was about to go on a rampage. He knew that Makarov would want you. It took Kyle’s hand on his shoulder to hold him back. 

Your stomach dropped as you looked at the knife. “House rules. Choose your gift.”

“Truly, a clever girl. You know how to play the game. My gift will be your right eye. Break in that new knife of yours.” Makarov demanded with ease, his men behind him raising their guns in case anything went wrong. 

From your pin, you could hear Price shout. “Hex! Abort mission! Don’t you dare give him what he wants!”

“You don’t have to do this, Hex!” Soap yelled at the same time. Everyone was beginning to become loud and unsettled, the energy almost breaking yours.

Kyle couldn’t hold Ghost back anymore, his strength from anger and anxiety too much to contain. All Gaz could do was give a warning. “Captain, Ghost and I are on the move! Hex, you need to get the hell out of there!”

You stared at Makarov, trying to read any sign of a bluff. When you saw none, you sighed in disappointed acceptance. “It’s a good thing I have two of them. Do you have a mirror?”

“Y/n! Don’t you fucking dare!” Ghost threatened, using the name that he just discovered. Oh, how you wished you could hear it from his lips in a better circumstance.

Makarov accepted your request for a mirror, ordering one of his men to fetch anything that could allow you to see your final reflection. After a few minutes, a dull mirror was placed in front of you. Damn, you looked exhausted. However, no fear. If this was the price for saving the world from a madman, for a life outside the cabin, then it was a small price to pay.

Slowly, you picked up the knife, feeling the heavy weight in your hand. Makarov watched you carefully examine it, determining what would be the best angle to get the eye out without damaging it too much. Once you made that determination, you took a deep breath and rushed the blade towards your face.

Your hand stopped at the last second, the tip of the blade dangerously close to your iris. Makarov’s hand stopped yours, seeming to freeze time itself. He clicked his tongue in approval, now looking at you almost adoringly like an obedient pet. “What would an assassin be without both of her eyes? I approve of the dedication. You have earned yourself a job.”

Price and Soap nearly fucking collapsed in relief, their breaths labored from how long they help them. Ghost and Gaz felt the same, their warpath slowing as Makarov allowed you to keep your eye.

Finally, Makarov let go of your hand to allow you to put the blade down. Your heart hammered in your chest from the close call, your throat closing to prevent yourself from throwing up from the sick feeling. You passed the knife back to him. “You may have your gift back then. A gift exchange isn’t fair if only one is receiving.”

With pride, Makarov took it from your hand. “A fair play. What shall I call my new assassin?”

“Hex, we are in close position. Just say the word.” Gaz notified as he peaked around the corner, counting heads. For a massive weapons operation, there didn’t seem like many people here. Then again, the catacombs were huge and dark, no doubt hiding more that were lying in the shadows. 

You waited a beat before getting up, walking around the table, and stretching out your hand for a business-like handshake. “Hex.”

“A curse.” He took your hand, his grip so firm that it almost hurt your fingers. 

“Precisely. It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” You politely nodded and shook on it. 

Finally, you had him in your grasp to execute. With a harsh snap and a pull, Makarov’s wrist broke with ease. You twisted him to face forward, his back pressed against your front which stopped the men from taking fire. They could never possibly hurt their king. You felt the knife you gave back to Makarov go into your side, just narrowly missing vital organs. Or so you believed. There was too much adrenaline running through you to feel the pain.

“Now!” You called out, signaling for Ghost and Gaz to rain bullets. Gunfire echoed down the corridors, the men closest to the chaos grunting before death. The men in front of you and Makarov struggled to figure out if they should wait for the perfect shot on you or trust that their king could overpower you. You didn’t give them anymore time to decide as you removed the knife plunged into you and threw it, killing one of the men on impact.

The remaining guard, now alone as his comrades fought and one fallen dead, had no choice but to remain frozen to wait for a good shot. Makarov just chuckled, a wince coming across his face as his broken wrist surged pain up his arm. “You are indeed quite the formidable opponent, Hex. But you have trapped yourself. How long can you hold me here until you bleed to death? Not long enough.”

“Please, I have plenty of time.” You smirked diabolically, kicking the table behind you. The mirror and lantern crashed to the floor, glass shattering and light flickering out. Nothing but darkness in the makeshift room. 

Makarov felt you let go of him, a move that surprised him completely. For the first time in his life, he was taken aback. Almost scared. All because you have proven to him that you were just as smart as he was and could play his games. 

In the pitch black, you dropped to the floor, picking up the broken piece of mirror. With a shard, you cut into Makarov’s Achilles tendons, causing him to howl in agony as he fell to the floor. While he was down, the same shard entered his neck, the warm blood already flowing out to coat everything in sight. The guard, in a panic, fired his gun. You felt one of the bullets graze your shoulder, but you couldn’t stop now. Rushing forward, you swiped the blade from the body of the guard you killed and ran it up into the remaining one. Slowly, his body became limp before falling to the ground. 

Your skin was warm with the coating of fresh blood. The metallic smell filled your senses, a scent that you, unfortunately, missed. Perhaps early retirement wasn’t in the cards for you yet after all. 

The sound of gurgling and gunfire seemed amplified within the dark, Makarov’s pathetic attempts to recover proving to be for naught. Once your eyes adjusted to the dark, you managed to see his outline on the ground. It was a fitting picture, seeing the man that killed thousands lying in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by skeletons residing in the hell under Paris. You came up to him, the knife still in your hand, blood flowing from your side. “On second thought, I think I’m gonna keep this gift.”

With those final words, you slashed his throat, more blood dripping to add to his puddle. Even in the dark, you could see the light drain from his eyes. Gurgles and bubbles fought for final breaths until it was too late. Always one to confirm your kills, you felt for a pulse. When there was none for a few minutes, you knew that the job was done.

“Makarov is KIA confirmed. If the reinforcement is ready for a sweep, send them down.” You announced, taking the bobby pin out of your hair and holding it as close as you could to your ear. 

“Reinforcements going down now. Defend yourselves until the end. Good work out there, Hex.” Price confirmed, so proud of the fact that Makarov was finally dead that he could cry. The amount of turmoil he has caused made everyone want to celebrate immediately. However, the job wasn’t over yet. The rest of Makarov’s men had to be dealt their own justice.

Gaz and Ghost head the confirmation on their end, pride swelling in their hearts and giving them a whole new energy to fight with. As Gaz unleashed hell with his rifle, Ghost gave his own update. “Making our way through the operation at a good pace. We believe that some of the men are fleeing now.”

As you walked towards your exit, you suddenly became lightheaded. The sound of gunfire seemed slightly muffled and your body ran colder than before. On your next step, you collapsed to the floor. With just feeling alone, your hand swept against your side, feeling just how much blood you had lost when Makarov stabbed you. You gave a painful chuckle. “Good job, team. This was a good last job.”

“Last job?” Soap repeated, confusion in his voice clear.

“Hex, You need medical attention! We need to get her to a medic!” Ghost picked up the cryptic language quickly, a new fear taking over his body. Without thinking, we began running through the catacombs to try to find you. Gaz called for him to wait so he could provide cover fire, but there was no getting through to him now. Simon couldn’t hear anyone giving him orders through his earpiece. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own terrified heartbeat.

You knew he was coming to get you, though. The voices through your communication device relayed this to you. You had barely registered it, but you heard enough to know that Simon didn’t plan on letting you bleed out if he could help it. The only problem was that perhaps he couldn’t.

“Hex! Y/n!? Stay with me! I’m coming to find you!” He tried to keep you awake, intuition telling him that you were slowly slipping away. Price hopped on his monitor on his end again, trying to aid Ghost in getting to you. As soon as he figured out where your positions were, he began to provide directions.

A few minutes later, Ghost was picking you up in his arms. Your body felt cool to the touch and wet with blood. However, he didn’t mind it one bit. He just held you close and spoke to you to try to keep you awake. It didn’t take long for Gaz to catch up in order to guard the both of you all the way back to the surface. “If you got her, let’s go!”

You slipped in and out of consciousness, losing more blood by the second. The adrenaline that was preventing you from feeling the pain was slowly fading. Now that you could feel your body again, you could tell that Makarov got you pretty good when he stabbed you. Damn, it really fucking hurt. At least it was better than losing a whole eye.

“Stay with me. We’re almost there.” Simon softly reassured you, praying to the universe that you will make it out alive. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

When the bright sun flashed on your faces as soon as you emerged from underground, it hurt. A medical team was waiting right there, rushing over as soon as they saw just how coated in blood you were. There was no telling which blood was yours and which one was Makarov’s. They were going to provide you with the best help they could.

Simon almost didn’t want to let you out of his hold. He held onto you tightly until Gaz coaxed him into handing you over to the medical team. As he watched them lift you onto a gurney and into the ambulance, he noticed you looking at him. You looked at him like it was the last time you would ever see him again. It damn near completely broke his heart.

When the ambulance began to pull away, siren pressuring cars to get the hell out of the way, Simon became determined. He spoke to Price through his radio. “Captain, permission to go to the hospital and wait for Hex.”

“Permission granted. The medical staff are probably going to be confused about her identity. Probably have a lot of questions.” He granted, understanding that this wasn’t coming from a place of professionalism. This was a personal request, one that Ghost never made in all the time Price has known him. Besides, you deserve to have someone by your side when you wake up in the hospital.

~

You woke up feeling groggy as hell, your vision blurry and aching from the bright fluorescent lights above you. Your mouth tastes like salt, a sign that an IV was working its way through you. The right side of you dully ached, no doubt painkillers making the stitches more tolerable. A headache began to set in as you tried to sit up, a groan escaping your dry throat.

“Kitten.” Ghost called out to you, noticing that you were finally awake. He wanted to reach out to you, but you stopped him for a few instructions first. You couldn’t handle a bear hug right now.

“Dim the lights and get me some water first. Call the doctor too.” You spoke, voice strained as you went through your mental checklist of things you needed. Simon had no issues following your orders, figuring that you deserved to be spoiled, especially after what you went through for them. 

Once the lights were dimmed down, your headache began to ease up. Simon opened up a water bottle for you and helped you drink. Hopefully you’ll get a meal soon too. Pretty soon after that, Simon brought back a doctor who beamed at you, her teeth matching the fluorescent lights that were on moments ago. She spoke English, but her French accent came through. “Hello! We didn’t expect you to wake up for much longer. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” You truthfully answered, earning a little giggle from the doctor.

“Normal then. That’s good. Do you remember what happened?” 

Your brain strained to remember how you ended up in the hospital, your memories showing you nothing but darkness. Seeing the strain on your face, Simon took your hand and held it. Suddenly, the memories began to flow back. “We were on a mission that led us to the catacombs. I assassinated Makarov. He got me with a knife before then. A bullet grazed me too. I lost a lot of blood. Right?”

She gave a gentle smile and jotted down a few notes on a clipboard. Simon looked at you, proud that you could remember. It seemed like you were still sharp as a tack even after everything went down. “Perfect. You were brought to the hospital for medical attention. We managed to find out your blood type for a blood transfusion. Examined your organs and stitched you back up. You are a very lucky lady.”

“Thanks. When can I leave?” You inquired, already itching to get out of the uncomfortable hospital bed. Simon glared at you as you expressed your eagerness to leave. You needed to rest, damn it!

“We want to keep you for another night just to make sure you’re okay. But, if you really are in a rush to leave, we can settle for a few hours. Your body has proven to be pretty resilient. Though, we recommend having someone help you out at home for a little while. You would still need to take it easy.” The doctor recommended honestly.

That was something you could work with. Accepting the compromise, you nodded your head and sighed, hardly believing that you could even sigh in this life still. Everything was beginning to feel more surreal. It felt like you were really close to death this time. Maybe if Ghost hadn’t found you as quick as he did, you would be dead.

The doctor put the notes on her clipboard and left to gather the things you need in order to go home early. Simon scowled at you under his mask, hardly believing how you could still be so frustrating after almost dying. “You better not be thinking about doing shit once you get out.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not missing the lectures that you thought were over with. “Relax, Simon. I just don’t like hospitals, alright? I would rather be in a comfortable bed with access to a full bathroom. Is that so much to ask?”

He huffed at you before grumbling under his breath. “No. It’s not. Sorry. I just. . . thought I lost you for a moment.”

Your gaze softened, guilt invading your heart. You shouldn’t be picking fights like this again. Not this soon at least. Hell, you should be showing him gratitude for getting you to medics in time. He risked his life to save you. “I’m sorry, Simon. Thanks for waiting for me. I would like to be able to recover back at the hotel for a while before getting back on my feet again. I would feel more comfortable there.”

At that, he gave an understanding nod and brushed your hair out of your face. You missed his touch. “You got it, kitten. We’ll make it happen.”

~

Kate flew all the way to Paris to help you navigate the intense questions on your identity when it was time to be discharged. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw her in person, but seeing her again made you realize just how much you actually missed her. She missed you too from the way she hugged you tightly, careful not to cause pain. She owed you big time for this. Helping you avoid questioning was only the beginning of her efforts to pay you back.

When you and Simon arrived back at the hotel, Soap, Gaz, and Price were waiting to see you again. They had bought plenty of food and drinks along with cake to celebrate your quick return and finally putting an end to Makarov. While you were still a bit closed off from them, you did begin to reveal more tidbits of information about you. Some of your other assassin stories, a little bit about your interests, and cracking jokes here and there. It was most likely the painkillers that were helping you feel a little more loose than usual.

At the end of the day, the men went back to their rooms, the men being granted permission to have a little vacation for a while for the good work they’ve done. Simon, however, stayed with you in your room. He showed no signs of leaving either. “What do you think you’re doing? Shouldn’t you be going to bed?”

“I am going to go to bed. We’re sharing the bed.” He answered like you just asked the stupidest question he’s ever heard. 

When you opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off. “Doctor’s orders. You need someone to help you around at all times. Someone to make sure that you take it easy. I’m that someone. Don’t even try to argue.”

You bit your cheek, holding back your stubborn protests that were threatening to spill out. With a deep breath, you tried to accept the fact that Ghost wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “How long do you plan on sticking around for?”

“Two weeks. Doctor’s orders.” Simon revealed, a smirk playing on his lips that was revealed once he took his mask off for the night. His handsome face almost had you fall over. You didn’t think you would get to see that face again. 

You didn’t think you will be able to handle being pampered by him for the next two weeks as well. 

-

Taglist:

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[hwanchaesong]

Love Scenario

Jeong Yunho X Reader

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, historical au! (kind of like forbidden love), mentions of illness, death/killing, betrayal and heartbreak, bittersweet ending lmao

word count: 3.1k

a/n: here ya go~ @marievllr-abg i chose Yunho for this one cuz i can really imagine him in a historical au 😭 hope you like it! to anyone who wants to request, these are the rules. thank you 🫶

You rolled your eyes for the fifth time that day, adjusting your outfit and trying to block the words that keep on coming out of your mother's mouth.

"Oh! And make sure not to go over the river, that is not our territory anymore. They might kill y-"

"Mom." you called out for her, cutting off her sentence and giving her a hug. You felt her tense body relax for a bit, "It'll be fine. I'm old enough to know all the rules of our land."

Your mother sighed, finally hugging you back, "Just make sure to follow all of it, it's dangerous out there, honey."

You gave her a squeeze and pulled away, a large grin broke out on your face before you hurriedly picked up your things when you heard the call of your trainer.

"I'll come back to you mom, safe and sound, I promise." you pecked her cheek and bade her goodbye, running downstairs that you almost bumped to your brother.

"Watch where you're going! Oh? Is it today?" the prince of your kingdom, Mingi, inquired.

"Yep!" you gleefully replied as your giant of a brother waved you off, murmuring a soft 'take care' before going on his own way.

You understand why your family protects you so much, the only princess of your land. They still see you as their fragile and sickly girl, and you can't blame them for that. You had been terribly ill as a child, god almost took you from your them one time, but that was long ago! Now, you're a strong and healthy lady, ready to be independent.

Your kingdom has this coming of age tradition, in which all of the young highnesses were allowed to explore the entirety of the nation, including the vast forests and cold seas. Accompanied by a veteran trainer trusted by the monarchs, this will last for two days and three nights.

You were beyond excited and nervous as your feet took you to your father's chamber, wanting his blessing before you go.

You opened the grand doors of the room, your father's eyes crinkling with happiness when he saw you, "Ah, my princess is all grown up."

You giggled, coming up to him and wrapping your arms around him, your father immediately reciprocating the action, "I was actually waiting for this my whole life."

"I know, I know." he cleared his throat and you took this as a sign to get serious. You pulled away and bowed down, watching as he took a sword and unsheathed it, the blade gently touching your shoulders alternately as your father chanted akin to that of a prayer.

"May you do great as always, my daughter." you looked up and saw the sword being handed to you. With determination in your eyes, you gratefully accepted the sword, "Yes, I will father."

Upon exiting the palace, your trainer slash cousin Seungcheol is already waiting for you in front of the carriage. "There you are, now come so we'll arrive at the destination before afternoon."

During the trip, you can't help but miss your family already, your cousin's words drowning under your thoughts.

"So that happens when you pass the river- Hey! Hey! Okay then, don't listen to me." he sulked, crossing his arms like a child.

You turned to him and tapped his biceps, laughing a bit, "I'm sorry, I'm just thinking."

"About what?"

"Hm," you put a hand under your chin, "about the river something?" you smiled sheepishly, earning a groan from Seungcheol.

"I'll repeat it, listen carefully this time!"

You nodded your head, full attention on the male in front of you.

"Pretty sure that you already know about the 'no trespassing the river' rule because of some ghosts." you laughed a bit when his tone went sarcastic. "In reality, it was said that an assassin from the neighboring kingdom lives just beyond that boundary. So never step foot in there in order to stay alive."

You listened well to him. Followed all the advice that everyone told you. But when left alone while exploring, (Seungcheol told you to get yourself familiar with the area while he set up the camp) a tiny curiosity couldn't help but creep within your insides.

And what do they always say? Curiosity killed the cat. Well no, but an arrow almost killed you.

If you were to explain yourself, you were just mesmerized at the beauty of the plains that you completely forgot all about the rules and regulations. C'mon, those pretty wild flowers were practically begging to be picked and made into a flower crown. You didn't realize that the said river was already in front of you, carelessly crossing over it when an arrow suddenly went 'woosh!' right beside your head.

You are doomed. So doomed and frankly, you are more scared of Seungcheol's scolding than the dilemma at hand.

A sharp edge was felt behind your head and you supposed that it was the arrow of the perpetrator, "Who are you and what do you need in here?"

You broke into a cold sweat, racking your brain for some sort of lie that you could make up on the spot, "I um, I am.. a-a merchant?"

The stranger raised an eyebrow, "You don't seem so sure of your own occupation."

You straightened up and cleared your throat, "A merchant."

The man behind you scanned your figure before heaving a sigh, lowering his weapon down and giving you a warning, "Well, Miss Merchant, I suggest you leave as soon as possible. This is not a place for commoners like you."

You heard him scuffling before picking up his footsteps. Now, you consider yourself a logical person. Someone who thinks before doing some things, but as of the moment, it seems like you love to surprise yourself even more.

"Excuse me, sir!" you acted before you could think. Turning around and catching a glimpse of him before he could walk away from you.

And my god was he beautiful.

His skin glows under the afternoon sunlight, casting an orange hue over his soft yet sharp features that made him appear ethereal.

"What is that you want?" he asked, tone annoyed at your persistence.

You dumbly pointed over to the flowers, "I um," you winced when you realized that you stammered for the second time since you met with the guy, "those flowers. My family told me that they cost a lot, so would you please allow me to gather some before I leave."

His eyes scanned the area before he walked towards the fields, motioning for you to follow him. You smiled a bit, running after him and you couldn't help but observe him a bit more.

He is incredibly tall, heck, he could even match your brother's height! And it's not like you're bragging, but your lovely brother is considered the tallest in your kingdom.

You were so deep into your thoughts that you didn't notice him halt, causing you to bump into his broad back.

"Ouch!" you yelped, earning yourself a glare from him.

"Are you always this much of a klutz?" he pinched the bridge of his nose before pointing downwards, "Now gather. We don't have all day."

You hastily plucked some flowers, and when you were done, you thanked the man and sprinted out of there. You were scared shitless, his voice was cold and the way he looks at you was dangerous.

It doesn't take a genius to know who the man is. He was the infamous assassin that killed many of your nation's skilled knights. You weren't even sure where you got the courage to ask him a favor, let alone talk to him.

Only a few seconds of your marathon, a hand gripped your wrist.

Dear lord, are you gonna die?

You are so young. You still have a lot to do in this lifetime. How you wished you listened to your mother and cousin. If only you weren't so-

"You dropped this."

Oh?

You spun on your heels and saw his outstretch hand, handing you a red tulip that may have escaped your small bag. You cautiously took the flower in his hand, gazing at it intently, and when you were about to thank him.. he was gone.

When you got back to the camp, your ears almost got busted by Seungcheol. Your cousin was talking nonstop, asking questions here and there, and when you had enough, you escaped from him by pretending to be tired and sleepy.

Although, drowsiness didn't visit you. The man that you met earlier is fogging your mind, and in the midst of your stupidity, you decide to go back and meet him once more the next day.

Thus, the position you're in as of now.

"Why are you here again?" the tall man went closer to you, he had you pinned on a tree and a knife on your neck.

You grunted when he pushed you further into the tree, "It's either you tell me what you really want or you'll die right here."

The blade sunk deeper into your skin. Deeper. Deeper.

"I'm interested in you."

The blade stopped.

He squinted his eyes at you, doubting what he heard, "Pardon?"

"I said," you took a deep breath, "I am interested in you."

He scoffed, not believing your words, "You must be crazy." he lets you go, putting his knife back into his pocket.

"You must be too," you bite back, "seeing that you stopped attacking me."

He turned to you once more, willing himself to act civil in front of you, "What's your name, woman?"

"Y/N, and you?"

"Yunho. Jeong Yunho."

He doesn't know why and how, but as much as he hates to admit it, he does have this inkling inquisitiveness about you as well.

He couldn't get you out of his mind since he saw you yesterday. You with your bright eyes and innocent demeanor.

It wasn't a coincidence that his arrow missed, heck, he was the most vicious killer out there, yet he didn't put an end into your life.

He broke the first rule of his job, 'kill all intruders that dare to step in their kingdom's territory.'

And now, he is breaking the second rule, 'never give true information about yourself to anybody.'

"Yunho." your voice sends shivers down his spine, loving the way you say his name.

"Yeah?"

You gave him a dazzling smile, one that could potentially blind him if possible, "Would you be a dear and show me around?"

You bet he did.

With a bit of hesitance and convincing on your part, he accepted your offer.

He showed you every nook and cranny of the forests, shores and fields, and you enjoyed every moment with him.

At first, you were done doing all the talking. He had his guard up the whole time, but when lunch time came and you brought out a whole ass meal... dude became a whole different person.

He was beaming like a little kid, munching away and at the end of it, you were the victor as he gave you a compliment about your food (no, you did not cook it, credits are rightfully given to Seungcheol).

The peak of your hang out with him was when he led you to a secluded area on the top of a hill, the sunset showcasing its grace.

"Woah, it's beautiful." you murmured, mesmerized at the scenery.

"It is." his gaze went over to you, and he thinks that he must have been blessed if he's able to see such a lady like you.

"Hey." your voice brought him out of his daydream, "I wanna give you this." you pulled out a flower crown from your bag, abruptly putting it on his head that caught him off guard.

"You look pretty in that." you snickered, standing up and dusting off your dress.

"You're going?" he asked, still in a daze to what is happening.

"Yes. It's almost seven, I have to go or else that man will end up scolding me again."

'That man?'

Yunho could feel the familiar green monster creeping up on him, thus, he followed you home.

He was surprised when you hugged a guy, laughing and talking to him like he means the world to you. He won't accept that.

Last night that you'll be able to meet with him, and you surely did not expect him to put you in this position.

"Yunho? What are you doing?" you questioned him, his body awfully close to yours.

"I should ask you that question. Who was that man you were with last night?"

Ah, so he was jealous.

You cup his cheeks, a soft expression on your face, "That was my cousin, you fool."

Yunho was relieved to say the least, no competition on his part.

"Thank god."

It was the irony of the situation that made it ridiculous of him to thank the heavens. He was so sure that the deities out there resent him for everything that he had done, even up to this moment, the facade he had been keeping.

Truly, he was a fool, and so are you. Allowing a murderer like him to hold you like this. Allowing the close proximity between your faces, lips close enough to touch, breaths mingling with each other.

"Y/N!" a booming, familiar voice startled the both of you. Your heart was beating so fast, you think it'll leap outside of your chest any minute now.

"You fucker!" Seungcheol jumped from the trees, ready to slash Yunho "How dare you lay a hand on her!"

Luckily, Yunho's flexibility is excellent, easily reacting from the other male's attack and pushing you away at the same time.

"No, Seungcheol!" you yelled, trying to alleviate the situation.

"He's-"

"Shut it, Y/N. I knew something was up when you avoided my questions the other night." he countered, eyes full of rage.

"Seungcheol, please listen to me." you plead, eyes getting watery to the situation presented in front you.

Your cousin paid no mind to you, turning his body to Yunho, fully drawing his sword out and getting ready to fight the assassin.

"What are you planning?" he questioned the larger guy's intentions, "You knew this girl you're with is the princess of your rival nation."

He knew who you were?

"My plan's ruined now, I guess." a smirk made its way to Yunho's lips. His dark eyes focused on you two, "I just want some information, to be honest."

Information? From you?

Your head was spinning and you felt like throwing up, "What is happening?" you bumbled, making Yunho raised an eyebrow.

"You really are dumb aren't you? You think I'll be with you if you're a commoner?"

Tiny pieces of your heart are shattered. So this is what getting your heart broken feels like.

You didn't notice the tears that rolled down your cheeks. You didn't notice the way Yunho widened his eyes with regret.

"You insolent little-!" Seungcheol charged forward, keen on killing the assassin, or at least hurt him. It was effective, seeing that Yunho was distracted.

"Tch." Yunho leaped away, preparing to depart, "You'll pay for this wound you gave me, Choi Seungcheol. I'll be back."

He gave you one last look, then he was gone.

"I can't believe you were this close to death. What were you thinking, making contact with a menace like him!?" your mother wailed beside your bed, holding your hands tightly.

You heard her, but you were too out of it to even give a coherent reply.

You were used. Deceived. Broken.

Mixed emotions and thoughts swirling around your heart and mind, you were such a dimwit. Thinking that you could change a man like him, or maybe he could treat you differently.

Outside the palace, you could hear the shouts of the men, chaos ensuing all over as the order to capture Jeong Yunho was issued.

"Get him!"

"Find everywhere! Anywhere!"

"If you can't capture him, kill him. That is an order!"

"Your majesty!" a guard knocked on your door, "The king wants to have a conversation with you."

Your mother stood up, glancing at you worriedly before walking out, "I'll be back soon, honey. Wait for me."

You were unmoving for a few minutes when loud thumping resonated from your window. You were alarmed, but still went over to your window.

You got the shock of your life when you saw the person outside.

Jeong Yunho.

His expression says it all, practically begging you to open up and let him in. To let him explain.

So you did, knowing how weak you are for him.

"Y/N!" he enveloped you in his arms, savoring the moment.

"Yunho." your arms automatically clung to him, "Yunho!" you sobbed. You couldn't let go of him.

"This will be quick Y/N. Listen to me and please, please believe everything that I will say."

You nodded and he leaned his head forward, his forehead resting against yours. "I am truly sorry for what I said the other day. I didn't mean it."

"Really?" you whispered, wanting more assurance from him.

"Yes. I will never mean that. I just.. I just have to keep an act. I have to do it in order to protect you."

He knows that if he spelled his realest, deepest feelings for you during his encounter with Seungcheol, you'll be in bigger trouble. He doesn't want that to happen to you, he wants you to live comfortably, even if it means that he'll go through hell for it.

You didn't know what to say, you were at a loss for words, and he took it as his cue to continue.

"I am sorry. I-"

"Someone has broken in!" a shriek outside made him flinch, and he knows that he has to end this meeting.

"I will come back for you, I promise. Even if it kills me."

"No!" you wailed, clinging to him even more, "Please stay alive for me."

He couldn't take this anymore, the emotions are bubbling up inside him and there is only one way he knows how to project all of it.

Thus, he kissed you passionately.

Lips moving in sync and the precious moment was cut short when loud footsteps were fast approaching your room.

Then you felt something soft in your head, followed by a last kiss before he disappears into the darkness, "Y/N, I love you. Always remember that."

You gasped when your door opened, your mother and father's concerned gazes bore into you before it traveled onto your head.

"What's that?"

You immediately grabbed the item, salty tears forming in the corner of your eyes upon seeing what it was.

The flower crown that you gave him.

The flowers are starting to wilt, but if you observe closely, one can see that it was taken care of. Handled gently as to not destroy it. Exactly how he held and stared at you for tonight... Tender and full of adoration.

You held it close to your chest, holding back your cries as you pray to anyone who could hear to protect the man that you'll tirelessly wait for.

"I love you too, Yunho."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #jeong yunho #jeong yunho imagines #jeong yunho angst #jeong yunho fluff #yunho imagines #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #yunho scenarios #yunho fluff #yunho angst #yunho smut #jeong yunho fanfic #hongjoong imagines #seonghwa imagines #san imagines #yeosang imagines #mingi imagines #wooyoung imagines #jongho imagines #yunho x y/n

[nolita-fairytale]

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter eight

summary: you and bradley spend three days in encinitas on your proverbial honeymoon and make a big decision about your relationship.

warnings: smut, fluff, minor angst, suggestive language, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.8k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: this is an exclusively rooster x whiskey chapter and gets a little smutty. this is the second to last part, so next chapter i'll wrap up the rom-com of these four. i'm going back to work and very much want to finish this nine chapter adventure before i do. however, i AM planning on writing a more extended oneshot that catches up with these guys a year and a half later so i'm definitely not done with these four.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

Friday 

“Look at us! We’re almost normal,” you comment, optimistically as you breathe in the bright California air. Sometimes, when you’re on leave, you can almost trick yourself into believing you’re a civilian. “No one would know by looking at us that you just saved the world!” 

“And almost died trying,” Bradley grumbles as a reminder the job you share is rarely ever that glamorous. 

Bradley holds your hand in his as the two of you walk along the beach. The drive up hadn’t been long, but you’d been eager to go for a walk after arriving. Once you’d arrived, Bradley had barely been able to put his seabag down before you’d practically tugged him outside across onto deck, past the gorgeous private pool, and off to the beach.

“That’s what I mean! We’re not aviators this weekend. We’re not facing near-death today! We’re just… two normal people who don’t have to worry about deployments or fighter jets or top secret missions funded and backed by the pentagon,” you continue, celebrating the freedom you’re leaning into on this particular leave. 

“Probably shouldn’t say that too loudly,” Bradley coughs, scanning the beach for any curious listeners. 

“Ahhhh yes, you’re right,” you mumble, lowering your voice. 

“But I like where this is going. We’re just… Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chimes in, playing along with you. “You know… the boring ones. Not like... the spy assassin ones.”

“Right, right. Because there’s a fine line, Bradshaw,” you fire back. 

He laughs in response with a shake of his head, his eyes full of endearment towards you. 

“Okay so… how’d we meet?” you ask, turning to steal a glance Bradley’s way. 

“How does anyone meet these days?! On an app?” he answers, in his best well-duh tone of voice. 

“No!” you cry out, giving his arm a little shake. He laughs again, giving your hand a squeeze in return. God, no one’s made him laugh this much in a long time. He shoots you a quizzical look as you clarify with, “C’mon! There’s no romance in that! No, we uh… we definitely had a meet-cute.”

“Who knew you were such a romantic, Mrs. Smith,” Bradley chuckles as he teases you, giving your hand another squeeze. 

“Okay then. Tell me more about this meet-cute.”

“Okay hmmmm… so you’re…” you trail off, before letting the silliest, furthest away from reality thing tumble out of your mouth. “... a yoga instructor.”

“What?!” he yelps, his eyes widening at the ridiculous sentiment. 

“And I'm… a chef who’s just recently moved to San Diego to open up yet another fusion restaurant gentrifying small surf towns across the nation,” you continue, making sure your faux-job feels just as silly as his does. 

“Wait. Why am I the yoga instructor!? I can’t even touch my toes,” he backtracks, alarmingly. 

You laugh, “Because it’s funny! And maybe the furthest thing away from what we actually do.”

“Okay fine. I’m a yoga instructor,” he grumbles, resigning himself to his new pretend-occupation. “But I’m not growing out a man bun.”

“No, the mustache alone gives you enough street-cred. Or rather, hipster-cred, if you will,” you reply, playfully. 

“You like the mustache,” he shoots back. 

“Oh, I definitely like the mustache,” you smirk. “In fact, that’s how we met. I spotted that mustache across the room in a coffee shop, made sure to let you know that, even though they don’t really do it for me, yours was pretty cool, which of course led you to inviting me to the yoga studio that you own.” 

“Which was just an excuse to see you again,” Bradley adds, playing along. 

“Exactly,” you giggle, as the story continues to grow more and more ridiculous. “… And well, you know what they say! The rest was history.”

“You are so silly,” Bradley chuckles, releasing your hand as he wraps an arm around your shoulders instead. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Bradshaw,” you giggle, your sliding around his waist. “Oh! That reminds me. We need to go to the grocery store.”

“I thought you said we could stay in bed all weekend,” Bradley challenges, his tone light. 

“Fuel,” you shrug, coquettishly.  

“Besides, I’m cooking you dinner tonight.”

“Well, you are the chef between the two of us.”

“Now, you’re catching on.”

It’s later that night that Bradley learns that while you gave him the job furthest away from reality, the possibility of you being a chef was a lot more probable. He watches you create a lemon-scented pan sauce, his mind wandering back to earlier when he’d been surprised by your knife skills. 

“Holy shit! You really cook?!” he practically exclaims in the middle of the state-of-the-art home kitchen you’re occupying all weekend.

“Guilty,” you answer, as if it’s some kind of confession. “If I hadn’t gotten into the Naval Academy, I was going to go to culinary school. Just one psycho thing for the next.”

You coat the back of a spoon so that you can taste the sauce for seasoning:

Salt levels are good. Shallots are perfectly caramelized. Capers add the right amount of tang to it. 

You scoop up another pool of the liquid in the spoon once more, offering it to Bradley. 

“Come try this,” you say. “It’s a lemon chicken piccata. I think you’ll really like it.” You hold the spoon up to his lips, watching as Bradley tastes the lemon butter pan sauce. 

As soon as the sauce hits his tongue, you watch as he closes his eyes, in total disbelief. 

“Holy shit. This is un-fucking-real, honey,” he says, the term of endearment making you blush a little. 

“Thank you,” you smile, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips. 

As you pull away, he pulls you back for another kiss before murmuring against your lips, “Though I think I like it better on you.”

Holy shit, is that hot. 

As Bradley releases you, it’s almost as if you’ve forgotten to breathe. Your head feels light and you have to remind yourself to take a deep breath. 

“I won’t distract you any longer. Sooner we finish up dinner, the sooner I get you naked,” he coos, his hands dragging across your hips as he pulls away. 

Jeez, this man is perfect, you think to yourself. 

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

As you sit down to dinner with your lemon chicken piccata and a funky orange wine, you learn that Bradley can’t cook to save his life. You can’t believe that after two and a half weeks of the craziest of training, you’ve managed to find yourself on your proverbial honeymoon with a guy you’re quite sure is perfect. Sure, he’s got enough baggage to sink the USS Roosevelt, but you’re not sure you mind. He is, after all, who he is because of it. 

He finishes telling you another story from his days at UVA and you’re caught in a fit of giggles as you watch how animated he gets as tells you about his college-day shenanigans. 

“What?” he asks you, seeing the look on your face. 

You know you probably look like you’ve got goddamn hearts for pupils at this point, so your answer is simple:

“The more I learn about you, the more I like you, Bradshaw.”

He blushes.

“I really like you too, Whiskey.”

Saturday morning: 

Rooster Bradshaw thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. 

It doesn’t feel real. 

As you stand there in the middle of the kitchen, clad only in his NAVY tee, it’s as if the domestic bliss he’s always craved is right in front of him. 

This is all he’s ever wanted. 

Bradley’s frozen for a second, paused in a moment in time. Ever since his mother died, there’s been a hole in his heart he’s never been able to fill – not with girlfriends, not with work, not even with himself. It’s this hole in his heart that yearns for a family – that allows himself to be taken care of, to be cherished, to be loved. But he can feel something, this feeling, swelling in his chest as he watches you make breakfast in the way-too-fancy home kitchen after knowing you for barely three weeks. 

Now that he’s proven himself in the Navy, maybe he could begin healing his relationship with Mav. He could let himself open up to you. Maybe the part of his healing he’s been missing… is letting himself be loved. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, but he figures it’s been long enough as you turn back around to him, sending him a curious look. 

“Good morning, handsome. Coffee?” you greet him, with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever seen in his life. 

And damn, he loves the way you look in his t-shirt. 

“That would be great,” he answers, a lovestruck grin plastered to his face.

You hear the sounds of his footsteps before you feel his hands on your hips, pulling you in close to him from behind. You giggle, turning your head for a good morning kiss. Bradley’s lips are soft – a stark contrast from the rough texture of his mustache – earning another giggle from you. 

You nod towards the french press on the counter that holds the coffee you’ve just made. There’s a second mug resting on the table that you pulled from the cabinets for him. He likes that you thought of him – thought to do that. He likes being thought of. 

“How’d you sleep?” you ask, plating up two plates of eggs, bacon, sliced avocado, and a mix of berries you’d purchased yesterday. 

“Great. How about you?” Bradley answers, a soft smile on his face as he watches you. 

You wrap a hand around the edge of the plate while your other hand carries your coffee cup. 

“Wonderfully. Why don’t you grab a fork and meet me out by the pool?” you tempt him, sending a wink his way before disappearing, heading towards the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck. 

Instead of following suit, Bradley watches, taking this all in. He takes a few steps so that he can see you through the glass door. You sit down with your copy of today’s paper, while you snack on a few strawberries before picking up your fork to eat your soft scrambled eggs. Bradley swears under his breath, still in disbelief that this is real, before fixing his cup of coffee and taking his plate outside to join you. 

“You know… I know we have the same one… but I think I like mine better on you,” Rooster says, taking a seat on the lounge chair next to the one you’ve posted up on. 

You can practically feel your heart speed up, as you watch Bradley pop a strawberry into his mouth. 

“Listen. I’m just relieved you own something other than the Hawaiian shirts,” you admit, a cheeky smile on your face. 

“What’s wrong with my Hawaiian shirts?” he teases you with a wink. 

“Absolutely nothing. But… it’s not like I can bring you as a wedding date in a printed shirt and jorts,” you tease him back, playfully.

 As much as he likes to banter with you, he’s more focused on the fact that you’re thinking of ahead – thinking of the future with him. 

“How do you feel about eventually making our way out to the beach today?” you propose, continuing with your breakfast. 

“If we make it out… yeah,” Bradley replies, suggestively. 

You smirk, “Well in that case, finish your breakfast. You’ll need the energy.”

You enjoy the poolside breakfast with him, handing him the sports section of the newspaper so that he can check out some of the baseball stats. You swap: the arts section for the sports section when he mentions maybe seeing if there’s a show you both could go to – making plans that you most likely won’t make anyways. 

After breakfast, you pull Rooster’s NAVY shirt over your head, revealing your barely-covers-anything bikini you put on earlier. 

“You wanna-?” you start asking, with every intention of getting in the pool. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, grabbing your hand. 

Before you know it, Rooster’s thrown his empty breakfast plate on the small end table between both lounge chairs, pulling you back towards him. You follow, more than eager to explore exactly where this is going. As he pulls you down on top of him, you sit over his hips, just to feel how excited he’s gotten from seeing you in your bikini. 

“You are such a tease,” he growls, bucking his hips up into you. 

“I think you like it,” you smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his. 

“Uh huh,” he answers, and you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“Already, Roos?” you ask him, a devilish smile on your face as you grind your hips against him. 

He hisses, pushing his hips up again as he answers, “Baby, you’ve had me this hard all weekend.”

You giggle, your lips finally meeting his, your tongues easily tangling together as your lips move in perfect time. 

“I like these,” he says, his fingers dancing over your hips as works to untie your bikini bottoms. 

“Yeah?” you ask, your eyes filled with lust. 

“Yeah,” he answers, untying one side completely. 

Rooster sits up, flipping you over so that you’re now laying back against the lounge chair, earning something between a gasp and a laugh from you. Eagerly, he pulls your bikini bottoms off, tossing them somewhere on the deck as he covers your body with his in this new position. 

“Rooster,” you moan, his mouth moving lower. 

His lips and tongue are everywhere: your shoulders, your breasts, and rapidly making their way down your abdomen. 

His hands pull your legs apart to make room for his shoulders as he watches you with a fire in his eyes. You know exactly where this is going, waiting impatiently for him to touch you. Bradley licks a broad stripe up your already wet heat, his tongue stopping to move around your clit as you throw your head back, his name on your lips. 

“Bradley.”

“God, you taste so good, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, the hot sun kissing the both of you as he eats you out, right on the freaking pool lounge chair. He works at your clit, tracing little shapes around it as you moan his name, trying to remind yourself not to be too loud since your friends do have neighbors. As his tongue moves further down, his mustache bumping up against your most sensitive spots, your hands move straight into his brunette waves, bucking your hips up against his face. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cry as you feel him begin fucking you with his tongue. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

You feel him smile against you, your words having unleashed something within him. From here forward, Rooster is relentless. He’s holding your hips down, pulling all kinds of sounds from your body as he continues to bring you heavenly pleasure with his tongue and his fingers. 

“Fuck!” you cry, feeling that tight feeling in your abdomen as he pulls his fingers in and out of you. 

“You gonna cum for me again?” 

“Yes. God, yes. I’m so close!”

And it’s all he needs to hear to do whatever it takes to get you to cum, pulling you past the point of pleasure you thought you could feel. You come with a strangle moan, and before you know it, Bradley’s folding his body over yours once again. He presses his lips against yours and you can taste yourself on him, earning a moan from him as you kiss him with desperation. 

“I hope your friends don’t have cameras out here,” he chuckles, in between kisses. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you tease. 

“Jeez, sweetheart. If that’s what you’re into….”

You were going to be the death of him. 

And, he decides, what a lovely way to go.

Sunday: 

“Bradley!” you gasp, feeling that all-too-familiar tightening in your abdomen, as Bradley winds you up.

“You gonna cum?” he grits out, his hips driving into at a rapid pace. “Go ahead. Let go for me, baby.”

“Yesyesyes,” you’re practically chanting as you feel him so, so deep inside of you. 

“Fuck, Bradley. I’m gonna-,” you pant, and he groans, feeling you squeezing around him. “Please make me cum.”

“God, I love it when you beg me. Shit. Holy shit, baby. Fuck,” Bradley grunts out, his face buried in the crevice of your neck. He whines your name so sweetly as he releases, finally stilling the motion of his hips. 

Bradley lifts his head, still inside of you as he leans down to press a passionate kiss to your lips. 

“Holy shit. How is it possible that it just keeps getting better and better?” you sigh, your back hitting the sheets as you catch your breath. 

“I don’t know but… if we get any better at it I might go into cardiac arrest,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. 

“No!!” you cry out, dramatically.

The two of you settle into a quiet intimacy, as you turn over onto your side, wrapping yourself up in the sheets. Bradley notices a shift in you, but remains on his back as you prop your head up on your hand. 

“I want to be with you,” you blurt out, causing Rooster to turn his head in your direction. 

He can’t even hide the smile on his face as he hears your words. 

“I want to be with you too, Whiskey,” he grins, his eyes as soft as the morning light. 

“Oh thank god!” you say, letting out a sigh of relief, eliciting the most amused look from Bradley. But you pause, and he can tell that you’ve got something else on your mind as you continue with, “I just-, I guess I’m just wondering if-. Do you… think we’re moving too fast?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, curiously, rolling over onto his side so that he can match your body language with his own. 

“I don’t know…” you hesitate with an ambivalent shrug. “We haven’t known each other for that long. Is it… totally wild to feel this way about someone after only three weeks?”

Bradley takes a beat, his chocolate brown eyes warm and filled with confidence. 

“Maybe. But stranger things have happened and… Whiskey, I-. I think I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time,” Bradley answers genuinely. 

“I think so too. Is that crazy?” you reply softly. 

“If it is, then at least we’re both in it together,” he reassures you, pulling you over to him so that you can cuddle.

“Okay.”

“What do you want to do today?” you ask him, shifting a little to something more lighthearted. 

Like you’d predicted, despite every intention of doing so, neither of you had made it out of the house this weekend aside from the occasional beach walk and for dinner last night in Leucadia. Not that you were complaining. The hot non-stop sex-a-thon and staying up to talk till the early hours of the morning were absolutely heaven… but you knew at some point you’d both have to resurface. 

“I think I might go for a run,” Bradley replies, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“You haven’t gotten enough cardio?!” you practically shriek in surprise. 

He chuckles, “Can’t take too many days off or I’ll lose my stamina, honey. Wanna come with?”

“Hmmm… I think I may just stay here… take a shower. Unlike you… I’m not a psychopath,” you joke. 

He laughs, “Okay, okay. Then how about when I get back, I’ll take you out to breakfast and we can go from there.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agree with a totally lovestruck smile. 

After a few more kisses, Bradley manages to unwillingly pry himself out of bed to get ready for his morning run. He’s right. You both have to return to reality at some point, and it’s not a bad idea to try to work in some of your routine before you’re back on base. You might’ve even agreed to go on a run with him, but selfishly, you’d like the alone time because you have to call Nat. 

Once Bradley is out of the house, you slip a t-shirt left on the floor from the night before, hurrying into the master bathroom. You quickly FaceTime Natasha, praying that she picks up, considering this is the first time you’ve had a moment to call. 

“Hey! Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you till you got back,” Nat says as soon as she answers the call. 

“Oh my God, Nat. I am in love with this man,” you say, incredulously. 

“Are you talking about Rooster?” she asks.

“Yes, of course I’m talking about Rooster!” you exclaim, with a laugh. 

“Jeez, Whiskey. How much sex are you guys having?!” she teases, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“You… don’t want to know the answer to that,” you answer honestly. 

“You’re right,” she nods, her voice dropping. “I don’t. I guess I don’t even need to ask how it’s going then.”

“So well. Too well. I-, we told each other that we want to give this a shot. A relationship,” you fill her in. 

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

“I mean... Whiskey, I think he’s ready to settle down with someone and… that’s why I wanted to introduce the two of you so badly. Don’t overthink it. Chalk it up to good timing,” she advises. 

“Okay yes, but do you think this is too fast?” you ask, nervously. 

“It’s… fast, sure. But it’s not like you’re getting married or anything,” she reassures you, before pausing. “You’re-... not getting married-.”

“Of course not!” you interrupt her, rolling your eyes playfully. 

“You know what the proverbial they say: when you know you know,” Nat adds, trying her best to offer up a little more reassurance. 

“Yeah, I guess I’m just trying to check in with myself. Make sure we’re being realistic, you know?” you vent. Truthfully, your hesitations have nothing to do with Rooster and everything to do with the fact that you haven’t chosen the best partners in the best. But Rooster? He’s near-perfect. 

“Have you told him about your deployment yet?” Nat asks you. 

You shake your head, “Not yet. I didn’t want it to be another thing to raise the stakes, you know? But I’m… I’m kind of nervous to.”

“Rooster knows how this goes. He’ll be fine,” she replies. 

You nod slowly, “How are things going on your end?”

“Uh… good. Just waiting for you guys to get back before I head back up to LA,” Nat replies with the most casual tone in her voice. You eye her suspiciously, knowing that that can’t just be it. 

“And Jake?” you ask, curiously. 

“What about Jake?” she asks back, earning a funny look from you. 

Okay, Trace. 

If she needs it spelled out, that’s exactly what you’ll do. 

“Have you guys talked or are the two of you still just fucking each others’ brains out?” you rephrase, putting it bluntly. 

Natasha rolls her at eyes at your crass comment before answering, “More so the latter,”

“Got it.”

You take a beat, not wanting to overstep, but then again this is the woman that quite literally parent-trapped you and Rooster. 

“It would be okay, Nat… if you had feelings for him,” you begin, cautiously. 

“Whiskey, I don’t-,” but she can’t finish the sentence. She knows she can’t finish that sentence because it would be a lie. And when has she ever been able to bullshit you? If anything, you’re the person who knows both her and Jake the best. 

She takes a beat before opening her mouth to say something else, “I don’t know if I’m ready. For that.”

You nod slowly, “And that’s okay too. You’re just gonna have to tell him.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighs, dissatisfied with the resolution she’s come to. She changes the subject and you talk about a few other things. Who else is going on the next deployment from the Dagger Squad. Having lunch solo with Halo. That Maverick and Penny seemed to be a thing.

“Hey uh… I gotta run but, we’ll talk. When you’re back,” Natasha says, as she realizes what time it is.

“Yeah of course,” you agree.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon,” she smiles, signing off. 

“Bye, Nat.”

You take a breath after hanging up the phone with Nat. Maybe you wish that she and Jake could just figure it out, but you also know that they’re not exactly those people. They’re actually the most stubborn people you know. You run the shower for a minute or so, waiting for it to come up to temp before stepping in, letting the water help you think through things. 

You and Bradley were different. Both of you were looking for something – a relationship – and had found a connection with each other that felt good. It felt right to be with him, even if the idea of falling in love with him terrified you – even if it felt like the two of you were on the fast track. But Jake and Natasha? You’ve always felt like they were more similar than either of them would admit. They’d have to really want it, really want to be together to make it work, and it doesn’t seem like either of them are there yet. 

You finish up your shower, enjoying a little you-time before Bradley gets back. You haven’t exactly had that much since you got here, but you know you’ll have plenty when you return to Lemoore. After shutting off the water and drying your hair as best as you can with just the towel, you wrap a second towel around your body before heading back into the bedroom. 

Only, you see something you’re not expecting – something you weren’t quite ready for. 

“Bradley…” is all that comes out of your mouth as you see him. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tanned skin glistening from his run while he holds loose papers in his hands. 

Papers. 

Those papers. 

Your papers. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asks, looking up from your deployment papers. 

“Bradley. I’m sorry,” you repeat, your voice shaking a little. 

You take a few steps towards him, stopping so that you can sit next to him on the edge of the bed. 

“I don't know…” you answer, honestly. “I guess I just thought-. We've clouded our judgment with hot sex all weekend….” You laugh nervously. “... and all of this has just been so intense – between the mission, and you almost dying, and… – I didn’t want my deployment to change the outcome of this weekend.”

You wait for him to answer, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he listens to you. You’re right. The parameters of the mission, your hookup, all of it has been so high stakes. He’d be a fool to deny it. But it doesn’t change how crazy he is about you. He thinks he’d feel this crazy about you if he met you in the supermarket, not in training for a suicide mission. 

“I understand,” he says, his voice low as he turns to you. “But I wish you had told me.”

“Would it have changed anything for you?” you ask, stealing a glance his way. 

“No,” he reassures you, his voice softening. He slips an arm around your bare shoulders, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “I just-, I don’t know. I guess I thought we’d have more time before we had to deal with… all of this.”

You nod, “I know. I should’ve told you earlier.”

“You still want to do this?” you ask again, with a nervous flutter in the bottom of your belly. 

“Yeah, of course,” he admits with a smile. “But it’s not going to be easy and… I guess… these papers just reminded me of that.”

You turn your body towards him so that you’re facing him, no longer sitting side by side. Bradley runs his fingers through your wet locks, eventually moving to cup your face. There’s a sadness in his eyes and you can see that the reality of your jobs has set in. 

“I kinda wish I was still a yoga instructor and you were some hot shot chef,” he chuckles, trying his best to make light of the situation.

“Me too,” you agree. “It’ll only be a month. And… then maybe once Cyclone has all the data he needs… they’ll make our detachment official. We-... won’t have to be apart.”

Bradley nods, “Yeah. We’re gonna figure this out together, sweetheart. I know it.”

You smile in response. How is this man real?

“How can you be sure?” you ask him, hopefully. 

“I can just feel it,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you. He touches his lips to yours before pulling back to ask, “What would you say to getting back in the shower?”

You smirk, “Lead the way, handsome.”

read: chapter nine

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[ahundredtimesover]

Belong (1.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; kissing; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter (18+)

Chapter Word count: 5k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: You Found Me First by Jake Etheridge; Alone with you by Canyon City || Playlist 🎶

8 years ago 

Yoongi is not a stranger to loud sounds.

His brother, Geumjae, is a fan of rock music and used to play it all day, everyday when they were growing up. Yoongi would fall asleep to the sound of drums and electric guitar and gritty vocals of whatever band that the older man was into. 

Yoongi’s dad runs an antique shop, a business that was passed down from his elders and which was expanded into furniture restoration. He’d spend his free time there, watching his father use all types of hand and electric tools to scrape, saw, and sand different pieces until the finished product was up to his standards. 

It may seem a bit odd but he thinks it’s one reason why he got into sports. He’d watched them as a kid and was amused by the cheers and the grunts that could be heard in the arena and through the TV. There was so much energy and so much excitement, as if those motivated the players even more, injecting in them adrenaline that pushed them, that made them hungrier, that made them succeed. 

He understood it during his first pickup basketball game in the neighborhood park when he was 10 years old. A couple of the older boys invited him over to play and the audience, which consisted mostly of the kids from school and some adults hanging around, were hooting, yelling, and praising them once the score got close. 

It was electric. Yoongi didn’t always smile but he couldn’t stop himself from doing so after he made the winning basket - a lucky shot, really, but he liked to call it the shot of destiny. There was nothing like it, and he always carries that experience with him. He refers to it as the pivotal moment in his life where he fell in love with basketball, as he told the university newspaper when they interviewed him the other week. It made him think of the possibilities, of the extent of his talent, and the overwhelming joy he could get from going to that court and giving his all to win a game. 

He smiles just thinking about it now, as he warms up for the first match of the summer league. It’s off-season for the university teams but this conference is where some other schools and amateur teams compete. He’s unfamiliar with the players but that’s what makes it exciting. 

He knows they know him, though. He made national news when he became the youngest MVP at 19. That was 2 years ago when he was a sophomore, but his local fans continued to grow. He was never one for attention but he won’t shy away from it if it’s about his talent. To make it to the professional league, people need to know his name. And he knows that’s not a problem. 

“There goes the ‘sweet assassin’ Min Yoongi with a fadeaway jumper and it’s nothing but net!” Jungkook hoots, imitating a commentator as he watches his captain from the sidelines. 

“He gets the steal and takes the step back-3!” Yells Namjoon this time. “You don’t leave the ‘sweet assassin’ open like that!”

Yoongi chuckles as he walks towards his teammates. “Stop it. The moniker sucks,” he says, wiping away his sweat. 

“You’ve had that since freshman year and you’re complaining now?” Namjoon chuckles. 

“It’s cringey.” Yoongi frowns.

“It’s brilliant!” Jungkook disagrees. “I mean, the school paper article revealed your online pseud is ‘suga’ because that’s how much you revere yourself and your shooting guard position and the sports dudes ran with it, gave you a nickname, and it stuck. That’s impact. And it’s pretty cool. The ‘golden boy’ makes me sound like an idol or something.”

Yoongi and Namjoon laugh but insist that the name fits the younger man. He is pretty good at everything.

“I still think the ‘god of destruction’ is the best,” Yoongi remarks, referring to Namjoon, who got the name after the few times that he’d detached the ring from the board after a dunk. “It’s so intimidating.” 

The 3 men proceed to tease each other, and Yoongi likes the carefree vibe of off-season games. Though his team still takes it seriously - they’d recently won the university conference so they don’t want to slack - they also want to play with less of the pressure than they normally do. It’s good for camaraderie and better for the start of summer. They want to enjoy and have fun while making a statement through their wins. 

Yoongi instructs both men to continue warming up as he passes Namjoon the ball. All of them head to the court to shoot and as the captain, Yoongi looks around to make sure all his teammates are present and are preparing for the game. It’s not a big one but somehow, the locals have come to enjoy the summer league. It’s free and it’s good entertainment, and so the buzz in the gym is enough to get him excited. 

The spectators are settling down. He stands by the sidelines and sees familiar faces. There’s a bunch of kids from school and some that he’s met during pickup games. There are neighbors, too, and even that one kid he remembers from high school who’s friends with Jungkook, the one who spilled juice all over his notebook and then cried so Yoongi never spoke to him again for fear that he’d make the younger man upset. The guy’s studying in Seoul now, if he’s not mistaken. 

Yoongi’s eyes travel to the person sitting next to him and he swears something goes wrong with his ears because the sounds in the gym suddenly disappear. For a moment, he can’t hear anything. That same instance, everything blurs. Except for the girl with the yellow scarf on her hair, sitting next to Taehyung - he remembers his name now - her crinkled eyes and stunningly sweet smile rendering him speechless. 

Being some local basketball superstar means that Yoongi gets attention, and that includes from women who are somehow attracted to his calm, quite nonchalant personality that’s tinged with the right amount of arrogance when he’s on the court. He’s not a stranger to their efforts to get noticed. He’s noticed them, in fact, but not enough to get him interested. It’s rare though for someone else to catch his eyes. But that woman though… that’s someone he’s definitely interested in. 

He’s never seen her before. She’s probably from another town, or someone that Taehyung met in Seoul or something. Somehow the idea of her being foreign excites him. If she’s never heard of him, she will now. And she—

The ball hitting Yoongi’s jaw surprises him, causing him to jerk back and find the person who probably embarrassed him in front of the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. He’s not surprised to find Seungkwan rushing to him, apologizing and falling to his knees, saying that he called the captain’s name and threw the ball, thinking it would be caught.

But when Yoongi looks at the woman, she has her eyes elsewhere. He sighs in relief, telling Seungkwan that it’s okay, but when he looks towards the benches again, she’s now looking at him. 

He swears his heart stops. But it’s not like him to show it. 

He holds her gaze for a while, liking the effect it seems to have on her as she shyly smiles and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. But for his sake he really hopes she’d look away. 

The coach calls for the team to huddle and Yoongi’s the one who has to break the moment, turning his back to run to the sidelines. He looks in her direction again and smirks to give her something to think about and maybe cheer about, and the bite of her lip says he definitely did. 

“Is it possible to get an orgasm from just looking at someone?” You ask your best friend Taehyung. “Or like, when you both look at each other and there’s that tension you feel and you just… get turned on?”

“I literally just spoke to someone for a minute and you just eye-fucked somebody?” He gasps. “You’re quite something.”

“Hey, you’re the one who told me to scout the players and tell you who I find cute so you can introduce me to them,” you shrug. “I just did what you asked. He just happened to be looking at me when I found him. And shit did he look at me.”

“Who is it?”

“Number 3.”

Taehyung chokes on his drink. “Seriously? That’s who you eye-fucked? Out of all the guys on the basketball team, you choose the Captain Min?!”

“The who?” You say. “Ah, right. His jersey said Min. I was kinda focused on… uh, other things.”

“Okay, woman. Behave. We’re in a public place,” Taehyung reprimands you. “Also, I’m serious. He’s the one who caught your attention? Jersey number 3? Dark hair, white headband?”

“Yeah, the one listening to the coach with his tongue dragging through his teeth,” you say, eyes on the group of guys in a huddle. “Yeah, definitely him.”

The man in question seems to be listening intently but his eyes shift to you briefly and you feel that tightness somewhere - your heart, you think, and you swallow. Hard. You don’t know if he saw it but he smirks at you again so there’s a high chance he did. 

Taehyung sighs and you turn to him. 

“Why do you sound so scandalized?” You ask.

“I’m not!” He defends. “I guess I was just expecting you to like someone like number 7.”

You search for the man in question. Nice build, boyish looks. 

“Yeah, he’s cute,” you say. “But not my type.”

“Or number 1.”

Much more built. He’s like a baby giant.

“I like his dimples,” you answer. “And he looks so soft, I want to protect him.”

“There you go,” Taehyung smiles.

“But I want to be protected,” you counter. “And small build guy number 3 there looks like he will. He’s gonna scare the losers away and tell them to fuck off and then I’ll let him fu—”

“Okay, ___, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he glares at you. 

“What’s wrong though? Is he an asshole? Do people not like him?” You badger your best friend. 

“No, it’s not that. People revere him around here, actually,” Taehyung explains. “And well, girls try to get with him but he doesn’t really pay them any mind.”

“Does he eye-fuck them? If not, then I think I’m his exception,” you argue. 

“You make a good point. So maybe I don’t need to introduce you to him. Maybe he’s just gonna introduce himself!”

“That’s not what you told me, Tae,” you frown. “You said, I point a guy and then you introduce me.”

“I didn’t think you’d choose him!”

“Hey, did he bully you in high school? Is that why? Because if it is, then screw him! No one messes with my best friend.”

“It’s not that! Everyone likes Yoongi. They just don’t wanna mess with him, including me. And I… well,” he trails. “I accidentally spilled my juice all over his notebook once and he looked at me like he wasn’t affected but that made it even scarier. And then he just never talked to me after.”

You groan in frustration. You would think that based on Taehyung’s reaction, the man is some jerk or untouchable being. He just happens to have a perpetually disinterested face and that’s honestly something you like. He seems like the type with a no-nonsense attitude and you’re quite the same. Most times, at least. There’s definitely something to explore there. 

You watch intently as he carries the ball, skillfully dribbling it and evading his opponents. He makes a smooth shot to the elation of the crowd, and unlike his teammates who grunt and make some form of over-exaggerated gesture, this man merely smirks, perhaps to himself, as he runs backwards to get to the other end of the court. It’s incredibly sexy, you think, how his seemingly quiet nature hides something a little cocky underneath, especially since he’s got something to show. You’re not the most knowledgeable at the sport but you can easily tell he’s good at it. 

“So, you’re gonna introduce me, right?” You turn to Taehyung during a timeout. 

“Uh, I think you can perfectly do that yourself,” he chuckles awkwardly. “I mean, you’re good with people.”

“Tae, you’re such a wimp. You said you’d introduce me to whoever I choose!” 

“We’re not doing this again,” he groans. “Look, we’re going to Jungkook’s place after, okay? Yoongi likes to drink after a game so he’ll definitely be there. I’ll make the guys introduce you to him. And I can’t promise anything because from what I heard, he’s never made a move on anyone and the ones who make a move on him get turned down so… good luck, I guess.”

You scowl at your best friend. This is the first time he’s ever bailed on you, considering he’s your hype man all the time. When you first entered university, you were both a bit intimidated by all the big city and international kids but he got out of his shell first and then pushed you to do the same. They bore good fruits, insofar as you enjoying yourself and then getting a boyfriend, even if it didn’t last long. 

But this isn’t your territory, even if you were raised here. There’s not much of the city that feels like home. You barely kept in touch with your high school friends, too, mostly because you spent more time at drama class, and so you don’t have control or leverage here. It also just so happens that the guy you’re interested in isn’t the friendliest even if you think he’s being a tease. You’re up for the challenge, though. 

“Well, thanks for the encouragement,” you roll your eyes. “But a guy with soft features like that doesn't look all that hard and intimidating to me. I bet he’s a softie deep down.”

“Soft features? Are we talking about the same guy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“Tae, we made eye contact. It’s like a blink-and-you'll-miss-it type of softness. Or maybe you just don’t look at him long enough,” you explain. 

“I definitely don’t.”

“Well then in that case, Mr. “I don’t care about shit” might be all caring and sweet on the inside,” you hum, as you eye him again and catch him asking his teammate if he’s okay. “I’m here long enough to find out.”

Jungkook’s apartment is close to the university, in an alley near the bars and other student accommodations. It’s spacious even with his gaming computer and weights, and he’d set up the living and dining room area to accommodate the guests. You look around the place and think it’s much bigger than the one you and Taehyung share, and you know why post-game hangouts take place here. 

Your best friend said a couple of the guys from the team and a few of their friends usually come over to drink. You can tell, by the way Jungkook is the perfect host, keeping the table with snacks and drinks stacked and by the way he converses with you - charm and cheekiness combined. 

He really is cute. He’s got a sparkle in his eyes and an innocent smile, and you can tell that’s part of his appeal. But you’ve got your eyes set on someone, someone who just happens to not be here.

You look around once more and wonder where he is, and just as you’re about to ask Taehyung, the man you’ve been looking for enters. He’s in knee-ripped black jeans and an oversized cream t-shirt with a baseball cap on. You feel your throat dry immediately and your eyes follow him as he walks towards the table and opens himself a bottle of beer. 

You hear your name being called and you turn to one of the guys next to you who’s asking what you’re taking up in university. You’d forgotten about the conversation you’re in, as you immediately get sucked into the presence of jersey number 3, who’s now relaxedly leaning against the wall, looking around himself. He catches your eyes once more and you so badly want to just go up to him but you admit that you like this - him watching you from afar as you talk to someone who isn’t him. 

“I’m taking up acting and film,” you say. “I really want to become an actor.”

“Well, you have the looks for it,” Jungkook comments. 

“You think so?” You flash a smile, playing along.

“Yeah. A lot of us do,” he smirks.

A couple of the guys laugh but nod in agreement. 

Not that you intended to be flirty with these men and get their attention, but the cute top and hair scarf outfit you put on was a good idea. Even the other girls seem amused by you. You just wonder if someone else is. 

“You guys are quite charming, aren’t you?” You giggle. 

“Of course we are. This is how we welcome people in our group,” Jungkook smiles. “How long are you here for again?”

“The entire summer,” you say. “Enough time to be charmed by you?”

You aim to tease, really, especially when Jungkook blushes. You don’t actually have any intention with him but a part of you was maybe hoping that it would ignite something in the man you’re really interested in. You’d like to think so, as you turn to him again and see his hardened gaze. It’s like he’s assessing you, trying to read you. It makes you a bit exposed but you like it. Whatever this thing you’re both doing, it’s exciting, something you didn’t expect about coming home since you left for college 2 years ago.

“Oh my god, this is like watching my friends flirt with my sister,” Taehyung whines. “Please stop.”

You all laugh and he claims it’s a little awkward, but he does say he’s quite protective, warning anyone who wants to win you over. 

You all go back to chatting around until Jungkook, like the good host that he is, announces that it’s time to play and get batshit drunk. 

You all gather around in the middle and play number games, something you’re good at. You mostly survive, needing only to take 3 shots that don’t really make a dent in your system. Then you play a card game, which you also do well in, and it gets the group cheering for you to your delight. 

You constantly look towards the couch where Yoongi stays, as he’s the only person who doesn’t join the games. Taehyung says the man isn’t into them and no one really forces him. You see the times he smirks though, especially whenever you survive. You'd like to think he’s secretly cheering you on and it oddly makes your heart race. For all the eye-fucking, the milliseconds where his look softens gets you feeling all giddy. 

By the 6th game, some of the guys have loosened up more than the others. They’re laughing more, teasing more, flirting with you a little more directly, and they’re at least funny and not that disrespectful. You laugh and tease along and you really could go on doing more of these games, until Jungkook suggests to play spin-the-bottle. 

The rules are simple - one person spins the bottle and whoever it lands on will be the one they’ll kiss. 

“We’re too old for this,” Namjoon claims, even as he sits himself in the circle you all form.

“We never are,” Jungkook chuckles. “Plus, we’ve got a good number of guys and girls in here,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

You take your seat on the circle right next to Taehyung and you look over at the couch again, biting your lip and cocking your eyebrow this time, as if daring Yoongi to join, given that the guys say that he absolutely hates participating in this.

Not tonight apparently, as he walks over and nudges Namjoon with his foot. 

“Oh, so now you’re playing?” The big man laughs. “I wonder what made you decide to finally join us.”

Yoongi sits down across from you, unbothered once more. 

He just shrugs. “I was getting bored watching you guys be terrible at the games.”

The group laughs before they begin. Of all the nights when you wish the spin-the-bottle gods were on your side, you wish it was tonight. 

The bottle thankfully misses you for the first 4 times. When it’s your turn, you position it in the direction that you mentally calculated would land on Yoongi with the force you put in. 

It’s quite nerve wracking, not knowing if this would work, but as the bottle slows down and the desire for it to point towards him heightens, you start to think that if this fails, you’re gonna have to just survive it and then find another way to get your chance at kissing him. 

And then it stops. Right in between him and Namjoon. Your heart breaks a little as you compare the distance, especially as the other people whisper the name of the man it’s pointed towards. 

“Hmm,” Taehyung says, “the bottle’s closer to—”

“Me,” Yoongi says, surprising everyone. “The bottle’s closer to me.”

His eyes are locked on you and no one dares to challenge the man, especially with how firm he sounds as he claims himself as the chosen one.

“By all means, go ahead and kiss, then,” Jungkook states, surprise and amusement laced on his face.

Yoongi, instead of scooting to the middle like everyone had done, stands up and reaches out for your hand. You take it and come face to face with him - finally, and you’re speechless as you stare back at him. There’s this certainty and desire in his eyes, you’d like to think. It’s captivating and it’s making you feel hot and definitely turned on. 

“Do you mind doing it in the kitchen?” He asks you. “I don’t really want them to have a front row view.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, trying to sound calm. 

He takes your hand again and walks ahead to the kitchen nearby. You’re still visible but like he wanted, there’s enough distance for the others not to have a close up look of your kiss. 

Yoongi leads you to stand by the counter, finally able to get a clear look at you. He’s been wanting this since hours ago and he couldn’t wait to get the chance to get you alone. You’ve been surrounded by all the guys since he arrived and well, he doesn’t blame them. You’re stunning and charming and you have this sparkle in your eyes when you talk about acting. He’d had enough of just watching from the couch and catching your eyes because yes, he’d noticed you glance at him and he liked that, liked that even if you had everyone else’s attention, you seemed to only want to get his. 

He honestly hates this game. It got him in precarious situations the few times that he indulged the guys by playing and at one point, he just stopped joining. He couldn’t pass up on this, though, not when there’d be a chance to kiss you. If you didn’t get paired up together, he’d still find a way. But he didn’t want anyone else to have the chance, so he took his. And well, maybe sort of cheated.

“So…” you start. “The bottle was definitely closer to Namjoon, you know? Anyone could tell.”

“I know,” he hums. “I could tell you wanted it to be me, though. And I really wanted it to be me.”

“Well in that case, what are you waiting for? Seems like the audience is getting impatient,” you giggle, prompting him to turn towards the living room where the entire group is anxiously anticipating when you’d both just make out. 

“I don’t really care about them,” he says, walking closer to you then caging you by the counter. “I mean, I was hoping this wouldn’t be a quick one.”

Your thighs clench in reflex. He still has a bit of that teasing smirk on but he also looks quite serious, as if there’s a chance you’d turn him down, as if you haven’t been gazing at each other since the game. 

Licking then biting your lips, you smile. “I don’t do quick kisses.”

“That’s good,” he smiles now, eyeing your lips. “Neither do I.”

He dives in right away and your eyes close the moment you feel his lips against yours, soft and electrifying as you expected. He starts slowly, loosely, giving you a chance to pull away if you want. But you don’t, craving for him instead as you try to keep him against you longer. 

It becomes his cue to deepen the kiss and that’s when you feel the warmth of his breath and then, the warmth of his tongue, seeking entrance that you too quickly give. You feel him smile against you and you fall into it even more. Lips melding onto his, you savor every bit of him that you can taste. There’s bitterness from the beer but it’s a taste you could easily be addicted to. It’s him, after all, and he’s just as good as you imagined. 

It’s a little daring for you, you could admit that. You’ve gone to parties and flirted around, kissed guys for fun and then walked away. You’ve never made out with someone right as you met them, though, and especially without even getting a proper conversation in. But Yoongi is captivating in a lot of ways and the way he tastes definitely doesn’t disappoint.

Just as you’re about to think of other things that would definitely make you even wetter, you feel his hand cup your cheek and he keeps it there, not so much to direct you where he wants but… to caress you, to savor you, especially as he keeps his steady pace.

He’s not rushing. He’s not asking for more, as his other hand remains clenched on the counter and his hip remains distanced from yours. He’s just going, feeling all that he can feel with this kiss and humming his satisfaction. 

It’s your hands that can’t control themselves, as you grip his shirt and try to get him closer. 

He does, but only for a while. 

He pulls away and watches you open your eyes. There’s only a hint of disappointment in them. Perhaps like him, you just let yourself enjoy that moment. And it was a damn good one. You tasted sweet from the cocktail you had and there’s this comfort in the way your lips feltl against his. It’s quite addictive, and he applauds himself for not pushing to do more. 

He thumbs your cheek one last time before his hand descends to cover yours that’s now gripping the counter. 

“I’m Yoongi, by the way,” he smiles. 

You burst in laughter and your head leans on his chest. 

Cute, he thinks. 

“And I’m ___,” you reply. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally.”

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” He cocks an eyebrow.

If this were any other cocky, self-absorbed guy, you wouldn’t indulge him. But that kiss alone told you that this man is so gentle, and you’d quite like to be a little vulnerable with him. 

“Embarrassingly, I have. I saw you at the game and thought you were pretty hot,” you chuckle. “I asked Tae to introduce me to you.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “You wanna know what’s embarrassing? I saw you in the crowd and I couldn’t look away. I got hit by the ball because I didn’t hear my teammate calling me.”

The way your cheeks warm is immediate. How can he turn you on and then make you feel all giddy? 

“That’s… pretty cute,” you giggle. “And not embarrassing at all.”

“I’d still prefer it if you don’t tell anyone.”

“Not a single soul,” you promise, smiling cheekily.

God, he’s so weak for your smile. How did he go about all 21 years of his life without this? 

“Are you done?!” Jungkook yells from the other room. “We’ve been waiting on what’s gonna happen after you two made out like you’re the only ones in this place.”

The laughter tells you they’re just teasing. 

“Well, we didn’t ask you to wait,” Yoongi turns back to tell them. “We could’ve gone on much longer.”

He turns to you questioningly. “If you want.”

“That’s an option,” you chuckle. “Or we can get out of here and figure it out?”

“Anything in mind?” He asks, standing up straight now. 

You want to kiss him and straddle him and tear his shirt off and so much more. But you decide you want to start with the gentleness first. You think that if you look long enough, you’ll see it behind the nonchalance and unreadable expressions. Somehow you just know that whether it’s daring things like kissing an almost-stranger or talking about anything or gazing at each other’s eyes, Yoongi would be up for it. You’re here for the summer and you have time. And you definitely want to take your time with this one. 

“Would you like to grab some coffee?” You look up at him, hoping he’s thinking the same.

“Just coffee?” He teasingly smiles.

“Yes, Yoongi. Just coffee.”

He nods and takes your hand. He walks with you to the living room where everyone is staring at both of you with a mix of shock and amusement. No one looks disappointed, though, and even Taehyung is wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“We’re going to a cafe,” Yoongi announces. “And for the record, this is the last time I’m ever playing this game.”

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