Blow By Blow | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw X Reader Au
Blow by Blow | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au
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Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.
Warnings: violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one
…
The apartment above Bradshaw’s is about as glamorous as it sounds. Air Conditioning in the form of a couple of cracked windows and a dated fan that now only works on one of its three speeds, the middle one. Exposed brick and beige wallpaper. The highlight is the original hardwood flooring, a deep walnut colour. It’s got a couple of chips taken out of it here and there, but it works.
You keep to yourself as much as you can in those first few days, making sure you aren’t walking too loudly, aren’t showering too late and aren’t dropping things that could disrupt the people below. That being considered, you’d have to be being pretty loud to disturb the gym.
They’re much less concerned about raised voices and loud music.
Laying on the middle of the metal framed bed, the door to your room open, looking around your new place, listening to the dull whir of that old ceiling fan in the living room.
This entire thing would have been much less bearable without your friends. As much as you’ve kept the worst parts of your relationship from all of them, not one of them is sad to hear that things are over between you and Jett — they were more than happy to help you get back on your feet.
The white sheets with pale blue flowers on them, those are Cassidy’s. The clothes, those are from Amy and Beth. The kitchenware is a mix of what was here already and Zoe’s — she always buys too many glasses and mugs, she was happy to get rid of some. The rug under the bed. The mattress topper that stops the decades old mattress under you from keeping you awake at night. They gave you what they could until you’re able to get your stuff back.
If you ever do.
You roll onto your left side, facing the built in closet at the far side of the room. It’s got slatted doors, letting you see exactly how dark it is in there. That thing gives you the creeps. It’s hard to decide which is worse — facing it, or sleeping with your back to it.
A bang outside. It’s childish, but you pull the covers up to your chin and press your weight deeper into the spongy mattress topper. A car backfiring, you’re reassured by the sound of tires squealing away.
Living alone had sounded terrifying your entire life. Growing up, you had always pictured a boyfriend, or a roommate — someone, being here in this dusty old space with you. It’s just as the wish passes through your brain that you’re instantly wishing it never had. As keys slot into the lock of the back door, you’re quick to wish that no one was here — that the person about to let themselves in would just disappear.
The door to your room is halfway open. It had seemed like a good idea before, you had been scared of not knowing who was out there. Now, you’re terrified of knowing who is.
The lock complies with a click and a heavy weight falls into the door, swinging it open. You flinch, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Another car squeals by outside. Heavy footsteps on that walnut flooring. Stumbling. The door slams shut again, heavy handed enough to make the windows behind your bed shake.
You hold your breath, not daring to open your eyes.
More footsteps, moving from the kitchen into the living room space. The footsteps get softer sounding after two small thuds. Your brows squeeze together softly. They took their shoes off. Stumbling again. The footsteps slow for a moment, maybe to catch their balance.
Curiosity gets the best of you, you peak one eye open. His back is to you, and he’s shirtless. It’s hard to see in the dark, but the muscled back and defined dimples at the bottom of his spine are just about visible. You swallow softly, shrinking back again, pulling the covers up higher.
It’s not Jett — but now you’re faced with a similar problem to the one with the closet. It’s not him, but perhaps it’s worse that it’s a stranger.
Your eyes widen at the sound of a belt jingling. He’s still not facing you, but he is taking his clothes off. You press your elbow into the bed, pushing yourself up, holding your breath as you slide the covers back. His zipper tears open loudly. You wince, cautiously shifting your weight closer to the edge of the bed and then up. Those ancient floorboards betray you, creaking under your weight.
He’s already turning anyway, heading for the bedroom as he kicks his jeans down his legs. There’s a lamp on the floor beside your bed — it should be on an end table but you don’t have one of those yet. You reach behind you, crouched at the side of the bed. Fingers splayed out, searching for your life line. He struggles, stumbling again as the jeans catch around his ankles.
Cool metal against your fingertips, you sigh in relief as you grab hold of the lamp. He steps forwards, almost slipping, still trapped in his own jeans, slamming his palm into the lightswitch beside the bedroom door. He’s standing right in the doorway now, facing you. It’s too dark to see his face for just a split second, but that’s about a second too long.
The lamp is already ripped from the wall and midair as he’s illuminated by the overhead light in the living room. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut in complaint at the sudden brightness, lifting his hands to shield his eyes. Your jaw drops as you suck in a sharp gasp — that’s about the only warning he gets.
It’s a plain white lamp shade on a golden coloured metal stand, about sixty centimetres from top to bottom. Well, it was. It slams into the muscle of his shoulder and clatters noisily to the ground. Just another chip in the hardwood flooring.
“Fuck!”
Still caught by the ankles in his jeans, and completely blindsided by the projectile you just launched at his head, Bradley hits the floor and lands flat on his back. Luckily, he’s too drunk to really feel that.
He pushes himself up so that he’s sitting just as quickly as he fell. Moving maybe a little slower than usual, he blinks a couple of times and squints at you. You stare at him, heart racing, chest heaving.
Rooster groans again and slumps back down onto the floor, draping an arm over his eyes. “Fuck, I forgot you were here.” He mumbles, slurring every other word, his voice muffled by his heavy arm over his face.
You swallow.
He’s on his back in the doorway to your bedroom, wearing socks, boxers and — you’re not sure if you can count the jeans, they’re technically still on, but not covering much. He’s not moving. For a second, you’re worried you might have concussed him, maybe the wire had hit him in the head.
You tiptoe closer until you’re standing at his feet.
He’s wearing white Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Natasha mentioned that this place was struggling financially, you wonder if you should mention that he probably has a future in underwear modeling.
Thick thighs, leg hair that can’t quite decide whether it’s blonde or brown and a toned chest. You stare at him for a second. The arm that isn’t over his eyes is stretched out above his head, muscles on full display under the dim light.
Reminding yourself of who this is and where you are, you nudge his foot softly with yours. He groans in complaint.
“What?”
“Are you… going to stay there?” You ask cautiously, trying to ignore how dry your mouth suddenly feels. He brings his arm down from above his head and adjusts his boxers, making your eyes widen. You pick a spot on the ceiling and focus your gaze right there. There’s a cobweb in the corner.
“You tried to kill me,” He mumbles into the crook of his arm. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say more, then sighs tiredly and settles into his spot. You can see him getting comfy.
“Rooster, um —“ You aren’t sure how to say this. It doesn’t feel right to kick him out, you’ve only been here for a couple of days and it is technically his. But then, you’re not going to be able to sleep with him settled into a pile of smashed glass and wires on your floor. “Could you… um, maybe…”
“Can I take the couch?” He asks tiredly, without lifting his arm up. Clearly, he was already aware of the fact that you were about to kick him out. You appreciate him asking, but saying no clearly isn’t much of an option in the condition he’s in.
At least if he does stay, you’ll be able to just close the door to the bedroom, and if a real intruder comes, they’ll see Rooster first.
“Okay.” You croak out, taking a step back from him as he starts to move. He kicks his jeans the rest of the way off of his ankles, grabbing onto the door frame for leverage as he pulls himself unsteadily to his feet.
He stumbles forwards and catches your shoulders, trying to find purchase. You wobble under the sudden pressure of his weight, unprepared for it. He stops and looks down at you, brows scrunching together. He smells like spiced oak and vodka, you pull back slightly.
“Is that my shirt?” His hands move from your shoulders, catching hold of the fabric in it’s centre. He lifts his gaze to look you in the eye. You’re almost knocked off balance by him again, and this time he’s barely touching you.
His hair is messed from an evening of running his fingers through it, and letting the cute bartender who had been giving him free drinks all night run her fingers through it. Up close, his eyes are soft and brown and his lips are blush pink and pursed and — fuck, right in front of you.
You remind yourself that he’s waiting for an answer, glancing down with wide eyes at the white philadelphia eagles shirt that you’re wearing. You give a small shrug of your shoulders.
“Um… I’m not sure, Phoenix told me to help myself to the stuff in the closet.” You answer quietly. Bradley nods, so, it’s his. He drops his hands back to his sides and nods.
He moves to take a step back and then stops. “Can I have a blanket?”
Oh, so he’s going to pretend that that didn’t just happen. That’s fine, you can do that to. You step back, turning around and heading for the closet. He leans against the doorframe, watching as you search for something for him.
You turn around and pass him the blanket, then press one knee onto the bed and grab one of the pillows. He seems taller this time when you turn around, arms folded over his bare chest. Now that the light is better, you wonder if he regrets wearing white boxers.
They don’t do much to hide his modesty, considering he’s standing in front of a stranger. He doesn’t seem phased.
“Here you go.” You breathe, passing the blanket and pillow into his arms.
“Thanks,” He stands before you, holding the blanket and pillow, not moving. His gaze falls down to his shirt once again. He was wondering where that went.
You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, wondering if the white of his shirt is as sheer on you as the white of his boxers are on him. He steps back, barely avoiding the glass on the floor as he turns away from you.
“G’night.” He holds his hand up and waves you off without looking back, dropping the pillow onto the couch and then following behind it. He settles onto his back and drapes the blanket over his legs, tucking an arm behind his head. Your fingers curl around the door handle, standing in the doorway.
He raises his brows expectantly, figuring that there must be some reason you’re standing there and staring at him. There is a reason, you’re staring at the tattoo on the inside of his bicep. You swallow and step back, starting to shut the door.
“Goodnight.”
“She threw a lamp at you?” Javy whoops, throwing his head back, holding his stomach. He’s got an infectious laugh, a goofy little giggle that doesn’t quite match the way he looks. Jake chuckles at his side.
Bradley checks for a bruise in the mirrored wall by the weights section, struggling to keep the smile off of his face — it’s not that he finds the situation funny, it’s just that Coyote’s laugh gets him every time.
“Nailed me — she’s got good aim.” Bradley breathes out, shaking his head. His memories of last night are fuzzy, but he remembers hitting the floor last night and then you standing over him.
He remembers waking up on your couch this morning in his underwear. Even if he didn’t remember that, his stiff neck is evidence enough that he spent the night on a couch that’s a foot shorter than he is.
“Shh, shh - she’s coming.” Rueben hushes them, leaning forwards on the ropes. All four of them turn quickly, catching sight of you as you round the corner into the gym. You’re wearing a short skirt and a tank top — middle of summer, no air conditioning upstairs, limited resources, there are a million excuses for what you’re wearing.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Jake turns on the charm as he rests back against the base of the ring. Javy and Jake are standing on the ground, leaning back, Bradley and Rueben are in the ring, leaning forwards. All of them watch as you walk closer. “Heard about your run-in with Rooster last night.”
They’re looking for a witty remark to embarrass Rooster, or perhaps an even funnier event that he may have forgotten given how drunk he was.
Instead, they’re met with a slowed pace, widened eyes and a soft, “Oh.”
A non-starter, a morning full of jokes dragging to a dull stop. You can tell that you’re slowing down the moment, but you’re really not sure what they would like you to say. Laughed at or laughed with. It’s a blurred line and you haven’t had much practice with the latter recently.
“Hey.”
Heads turn once again as Maverick steps out of his office at the back of the gym and holds up his palm in greeting. The guys look back towards you.
“Sorry, excuse me.” You say gently, stepping around them and walking cautiously towards their boss. If that’s what Mav is, he seems to be, with the way they get all serious when he’s around.
“Morning, kid — you ready to talk?” Pete greets you, stepping out of his way and motioning for you to go ahead of him into the office. You smile softly as you pull your laptop from your bag and step into the office.
“Sure, Mr. Mitchell — I got started with a website, it’s kind of bare but I wanted your opinion on the basics before I fleshed it out.”
His office is messy and poorly lit. The overhead lighting is harsh, it’s a single bulb in the centre of the ceiling with no lampshade. It might not be winning any awards for interior decoration, but there are plenty of other awards that adorn the room. Trophies, medals, belts. Framed photos.
There’s one on his desk of him with his arm around a young boy. It takes you a second to recognise the man who was laying almost naked on your floor last night, looking back at you as a fourteen year old. He’s much smaller then, shorter than Maverick and skinny. They’re standing in the ring and grinning together, holding a trophy that’s now on a shelf behind the desk.
They look happy.
“Alright, show me what you’ve got.” Maverick smiles, sitting down on the creaky desk chair and motions for you to sit opposite him. The leather chair opposite is old, the leather is cracking and it squeaks softly as you sit down. He moves his chair around the desk so that he’ll be able to see the screen.
It smells like dust and sweat in here.
Still, you show him the basics of the website, quietly amused at how impressed he is with even the most basic work.
“So, do you have a job at the moment?” Pete asks, leaning back in his chair. You give a small shake of your head. Some savings, but that’s all. He nods understandingly. “Would you like one?”
You raise your brows at him, fighting the yes that rises in your throat — you pause, knowing that you should ask more first.
“What kind of job?”
“Consider it like a social media coordinator. Put this place on the map like those gyms I see up town. What do you say — you think you could do something like that?”
Bradley grunts softly as Rueben catches him square in the ribs, the leather glove striking into his skin.
“Don’t hit him in the stomach — I don’t want to be cleaning up vodka puke today.” Jake calls from the side of the ring.
It’s not that Bradley’s off his game, or that Rueben is a full-time professional whereas the rest of them are semi-pro. It’s just that Bradley had been staring through the blinds into Mav’s office, and he just saw you shake his Uncle’s hand.
He looks over there again as he recovers, breathing out as you step out of the office, smiling.
Things between Rooster and his Uncle Mav have been rocky for a long time — Rooster periodically makes it worse, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not.
He catches sight of Rueben’s glove in his peripheral and ducks back. Payback Fitch is at the top of his game recently, and so far the most successful out of all of them — and yet, he still continues to train here. Bradley turns and swings, blocked.
You walk slowly towards the ring, holding your laptop against your chest, looking up at the two of them sparring. Swinging, dodging. You wince as Bradley’s glove makes contact with Rueben’s eye socket.
They go on for a while. You’ve never been one for violence, and up close, it usually just makes you cringe. But you like the way that they work together, in tune and paying attention. Maybe the fact that they’re sweaty, muscles glinting under the overhead lights, maybe that’s not so bad.
Jake raises his eyebrows at you from the other side of the ring, lips quirking softly.
“Enjoying the show, kid?”
You swallow, then look back up at Bradley as he and Rueben stop for a break. Rueben heads to the other side of the ring for water, Bradley walks to your side and grabs his towel. Standing over you, he looks down.
You turn your head and look at Jake.
“Could I try?”
…
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Elementary, Chapter One
gif credit: @magnusedom
pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x teacher!reader
chapter rating: M (no smut yet but all my works are 18+, talks of children with difficult home lives, widowed/single dad!joel, unbeta’d and unedited bc i refuse to proofread my shit)
word count: 2.8k
series masterlist | joel masterlist
The sound of your alarm clock buzzing hit you like a brick, the burn in your eyes causing you to wonder if you got any sleep at all. You rolled out of bed with a yawn, your back cracking as it adjusted to being upright.
“Christ,” you groaned as you stood up and padded your way over to the bathroom. “And only twenty-eight.”
As you stood in the shower nearly catatonic, you thought about the day ahead of you. Parent/teacher conference day. The worst day of the year.
Typically, you loved going into work. Your class of fifth graders were a godsend, making up for all the mischievous ten and eleven year olds you had last year. But today wasn’t about the kids, even if it was supposed to be. Today was about dealing with their opinionated, or even more tragic, absent parents.
No matter which way they leaned on the spectrum—involved or absent—none of them ever seemed to be pleased with your assessment of their child. If their children were straight A students, you simply weren’t challenging them enough. If they were rowdy, it must be your fault because “they aren’t like that at home”. Never satisfied.
But the worst and most draining part of the day was sitting there with your students waiting for their parents to show up, both of you knowing they wouldn’t. You had to watch the light fade from their eyes as the minutes ticked on. You had to watch them struggle to ask to use your desk phone to call home. On more than one occasion, you had to watch the child go off in the backseat of a police car, their parents MIA and having no other way home. It broke your heart in ways they never taught you about in school, ways you never prepared for.
Sitting down at your desk, a half hour left until the first bell rang, you flipped through the pile of report cards, ordering them by meeting time rather than the alphabetical order they were in now.
“Morning, Miss,” a small voice called your attention, your eyes lifting from the papers to watch as Sarah Miller, one of your better students, walked in.
“Sarah, class doesn’t start for another half-hour.” Your brows furrowed as she hung her backpack on her chair and sat down.
“My dad had to be at work early,” she informed, tugging out a book and cracking it open.
“Well, why don’t you go have some breakfast since you’re here early?” you suggested, unsure of her home situation given that her father missed last semester’s conference, leaving them unacquainted.
“No, we had breakfast burritos on the way,” she assured, already lost in her book. You nodded to yourself and resigned to having some company as you went through your morning prep.
As you jotted down today’s date and lesson objectives, Sarah called your name.
“Yea, Sarah?” You turned around to look at her, her brow laced in concentration as she pointed at a word in her book.
“What’s this mean?” You walked over and looked at the spot she was pointing to, sucking your teeth at the word at least two grade levels ahead of hers.
“Assiduous—means careful,” you read it out loud so that she could hear it pronounced, her small voice repeating the word earning a nod from you. “What are you doing reading such an advanced book?”
“It’s my dad’s,” she shrugged, flipping to the cover. “Figured if he’s smart enough to read it, so am I.”
You laughed and nodded, amused and impressed by her wit.
“I don’t know your dad, but I’m sure you’re right.” The bell rang signaling the start of the school day, your door opening as your class of thirty started to file into the room. “Good morning, everybody. Did everyone have a good weekend?”
“My cat died!” Tommy, one of the more talkative students announced to the class over a sea of other responses.
“I’m so sorry about that, Tommy,” you sympathized, watching as he shrugged.
“It’s okay. He was kind of a jerk.”
You weren’t sure whether or not to laugh, so you refrained, taking a deep breath before clapping your hands together.
“Alright then. Let’s, uh, let’s get out our journals and start our morning logs, shall we?” You stood at the front of the classroom and watched as your students tugged out their composition notebooks and cracked them open. “The subject for today is dreams. You can write about your dreams for life, for the future, for yourself and for family, or you can write about an actual dream you had. Whatever you end up writing about, remember to use some describing words. Set the scene. Just because you can see it in your head doesn’t mean the reader can, so really try and paint a picture with your words. Alright, everybody ready?”
You pressed the timer after your students confirmed they were ready to start, and walked back over to your desk to check your emails. As you sat down, your phone lit up with a message alert from the guy you’d gone on a date with on Saturday—a guy who almost literally bored you to tears.
Hope your day is going well! Can’t get you out of my head. 💞
You sighed at the message, locking your phone and flipping it over as you shooed your failing live life out of your mind to focus on work.
“Sorry,” Sarah apologized as she paced around by the door, her eyes glued to the hallway as the two of you waited for her father to show. “He promised he’d show—“
“Hey,” you heard a man’s voice from in the hall, Sarah’s relief clear as she welcomed him inside.
You were a little taken aback by how attractive and young he was, his dark brown hair matching his eyes as he stepped over to your desk. He held his hand out for you from over your bulky computer and you accepted it quickly.
“Sorry I’m late, I, uh—“
“Just over here,” you interrupted him to lead him over to the half-circle table at the back of your class, Sarah joining the two of you.
“I just started a contracting company, and it’s…hectic to say the least,” he offered you a polite smile, hoping to wipe away the look of disappointment on your face as you seemingly wrote him off as just another absent parent. “It’s just me, so…hard to be in two places at once.”
“It’s completely understandable, Mr. Miller,” you assured with a warm smile, forcing your eyes away from his handsome face to grab Sarah’s report card and your progress notes. “So, Sarah is doing incredible this year, as I’m sure you already know.”
Joel looked over at his daughter with a proud smile, nodding at her.
“Her grades are great, her attendance is great, the only concern that I have is her social skills.” You watched as his smile faded into the frown that you’d come to expect in these meetings.
“Her social skills? What’s wrong with her social skills?” he asked defensively.
“Nothing! Nothing. She’s an excellent communicator and teammate when she’s put in groups,” you flickered your eyes over to her, watching as she looked guiltily at the table. “But she rarely socializes with her classmates outside of team-assignments. Have you considered putting her in some extracurricular activities? So that she can socialize a bit more and make some friends? I know the soccer season is starting soon.”
“Sure,” he nodded, looking to his daughter. “Whatever she wants to do, you know, I give my permission.”
“I don’t want to be on the soccer team,” Sarah chimed in, glancing at her father. “No one would show up to my games anyways.”
“Hey, now,” Joel sounded hurt as he shifted in his seat to face her better, your eyes falling to the tabletop awkwardly as you let them talk it through. “I’m tryin’ my best here.”
“I know,” she assured with a sincere tone and a nod, no malice in her voice, just resolution. “But it’s still true.”
“It doesn’t have to be soccer,” you spoke again, wanting to ease the tension. “A book club is always an option. I lead a women-only book club every week at the public library on Saturday afternoons. It’s ladies of all ages, our youngest is a five year old who comes with her mom, and our eldest is ninety-seven. Why don’t the two of you swing by and check it out this weekend?”
“Am I allowed?” Joel asked with a hint of a playfulness, bringing a smile to your face.
“We’ll make a one-time exception,” you assured.
“Appreciate it,” Joel chuckled and stood up, holding his hand out for yours again. “Well, thank you for all you do. It was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll see ya on Saturday.”
“On time, hopefully,” you teased and felt your chest swell in pride as his smile widened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Joel was standing at the stove, scrambling a pan of eggs while he waited for the pancake in the other pan to be ready for a flip when Sarah came hurdling into the room, still half-asleep. Joel shot her an amused look, chuckling at her disheveled state.
“Mornin’, baby girl,” he greeted.
“You’re up,” she croaked with confusion.
“Yep.”
“You never wake up on your own,” she noted suspiciously as she slugged her way over to the fridge, tugging out a bottle of orange juice before catching sight of the freshly flipped pancake. “And we’re having pancakes? Who died?”
“Nobody,” he quickly replied. “I’m just tryin’ to get us to your book club on time.”
“Yeah, so you can see my pretty teacher,” she teased, elbowing his side as she stood beside him at the stove, tending to the eggs.
“I should’a never told you that,” he sighed, his momentary lapse in judgement leading him to make a comment about how much prettier you were than he was expecting on the drive home from the meeting on Monday.
“It’s okay if you have a crush,” she assured, her words mildly surprising him. He’d expected her to be against the idea, her loyalty to her mom who passed away five years ago causing him to avoid the dating scene entirely. “I just don’t know if she’d be into your whole…situation.”
“My situation?” He questioned her with a smirk as he plated their breakfast before carrying them over to the table.
“Yeah, you know, the whole overworked, messy, single dad thing.” Joel stared at her in playful disbelief as she listed off his flaws casually, seeing so much of her mother in her. “But maybe she’s into that.”
“We aren’t goin’ to get me a date, we’re goin’ so you can make some friends,” he reminded as he cut into his pancakes.
“Maybe you can make a friend, too,” she pointed out. “Maybe somebody who can help you with your time management skills.”
“Time management,” he repeated her words. “You’re gettin’ too smart for your own good.”
“Good.”
“Alright, I know we’re all eagerly awaiting the reveal of this month’s book, so without further ado—oh.” You were interrupted by a familiar father-and-daughter duo sneaking into the room quietly, Joel mouthing a silent apology as he took a seat with Sarah in the back. “We’ve got a new face today—well, two new faces, technically. Everybody, welcome Sarah and her father…”
“Joel,” he introduced himself, surprised that he forgot to do so during the conference.
“You arrived just in time for the reveal of this month’s book,” you smiled as you walked over to the stack of books hidden underneath a table cloth. “Are we ready?”
“Yeah!” The five year old you’d mentioned during the meeting cheered, making you laugh.
“Alright, this month’s pick is…” you pulled the tablecloth off and lifted the cover up. “Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.”
“About time,” croaked the eldest member of the club, Harriet, the book having been her vote every month since she’d joined the club a year ago.
After handing out copies of the book to the entire room, including Joel, you announced that it was “mingling time” and were delighted to see Joel and Sarah making a beeline for you.
“I’m glad you guys came,” you greeted them with a smile, pointing at the book in their hands. “It’s a pretty good read, not my usual cup of tea but not bad. And given the books you’re used to reading, Sarah, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle this one.”
“Hey,” a girl Sarah’s age approached her with a friendly smile. “I’m Jessie.”
“Sarah.”
You and Joel looked on as the two eleven year olds got swept away in conversation about some show you’d never heard of, both of you proud of her for branching out.
“So what’s this club all about?” Joel asked, the two of you now alone as Sarah walked off with her new friend. “Just reading and snacks?”
“Pretty much,” you confirmed with a chuckle. “We do more throughout the month—activities based on the book we’re reading and stuff—but it’s the first meeting of the month, so it’s usually just spent with all of us catching up and hanging out.”
“Well, she looks happy,” he pointed out before holding up the book in his hand. “Anything I should be worried about her reading in this?”
“As in sex, drugs, and violence? No. But if you’re worried about 19th-century gender dynamics, then yeah, there’s some stuff.” Joel laughed and nodded, tapping the paperback against his palm. “You, uh, you made progress. Only five minutes late this time.”
“And I woke up early, too,” he added before flushing in embarrassment as he revealed his eagerness to get here on time. “Yeah, uh, Sarah’s used to pullin’ me outta bed—she was floored to see me already awake when she woke up.”
“Sounds like you need a better alarm.”
“Or more days off to actually get some decent rest,” he replied with a sigh, shaking his head.
“She knows you’re not intentionally doing it, you know?” you offered, the affection you felt for both him and his daughter teetering in inappropriate given that you were simply her teacher, but you couldn’t shake it no matter how hard you tried to all week.
“I feel so guilty,” he confessed, suddenly looking more vulnerable and exhausted. “She’s missin’ out on bein’ a kid and havin’ to take care of herself all because I decided I wanted to be self-employed.”
“Her mom—“
“Passed away five years ago,” he filled you in softly as you walked him over to the snack table to grab a water bottle. “Just got her uncle and I left.”
“Well, you guys aren’t doing too bad,” you complimented with a smile, watching as he rolled his eyes. “Seriously, she’s a funny kid. Quick, too.”
“That’s all her mama,” he replied with a smile that screamed affection.
“Well, she must’ve been quite a woman, then.”
“She was,” he nodded, his eyes turning away from yours as he reached to grab a water of his own. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Oh, you don’t need to thank—“
“No, I do,” he shushed you gently. “Sarah’s other teachers never cared enough to look out for her like you do. It’s really…I appreciate it. You’re even extending that kindness to me, so…thank you.”
You felt overwhelmed by his words, having never received such kindness in your career. You were used to crying over criticism, but now your eyes began to well for a whole new reason.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you cry—“ Joel reached to touch your shoulder but refrained, not wanting to cross any lines without consent. You sniffled and wiped away the tears that had yet to spill from your watery eyes, chuckling at your own emotional state.
“No, I’m just…not used to a parent being so nice,” you laughed again and this time Joel joined you. “So, thank you and, by the way, I appreciate you too.”
“Maybe we can—“
“Oops, I spilled my wine!” Harriet announced, cutting off Joel’s attempt at asking you out.
“Harriet! Where’d you find wine? This is a public library,” you scolded, starting off towards her before turning back to Joel. “Sorry, I, uh, I have drop-off duty on Monday morning, so I’ll see you when you drop Sarah off?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing his failure. “See ya then.”
Blow by Blow | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist
Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.
Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni, no warnings in particular for this one
…
Bradley’s car pulls into the parking lot at seven, prompt — on time for once. The radio is playing loud, some seventies tune that he hums along to with little regard for the neighbors. Head tilted back, humming softly to your own music, the water pours over your face.
You scrub shampoo through your roots, swaying softly to your music. It’s a relatively calm track, you’re hoping for a relatively calm day. The plan is to take Tank for a walk through the park down by the marina, then come back and work on the website a bit — Nat’s going to train with you in the afternoon, then you’ve got the evening to yourself.
It’s a nice change, having this much freedom over your day. No asshole telling you what to wear, telling you that walking the dog takes too long, dragging you along to whatever he wants to do.
Bradley’s brows furrow. He pops open the glove box and riffles through it before patting down his jean pockets again. No keys. “Fuck.”
It’s the first time that he’s been on time in a week. If he has to call Jake to borrow some keys then he’s just going to get another lecture. He knows exactly where his keys for the gym are, somewhere on the floor of your apartment.
Sliding out of the driver’s side of his Ford Bronco, he slams the door with little regard for the neighbors again — he half does it just to let you know that he’s coming. Then, he jogs up the metal stairs that lead to the door to your apartment and knocks loudly on the glass panel in the door.
Immediately, he’s met with a big bark. Loud, deep and right by the door from the sounds of things. Yeah… Natasha had mentioned a dog. Bradley knocks the glass loudly again, unfazed by the barking.
He lifts his hand, ready to hit the glass hard when he hears you unlocking the door. The blue wood pulls back and opens just slightly. He has a split second where he can glance you up and down, get a good look at you, still wet and wrapped in a towel. Once his gaze lifts, he’s met with an unimpressed scowl.
Next, Tank lurches forwards, barking wildly as he aims himself at the stranger just outside the door. You put your knee against the doorframe and block Tank with your body.
“I need my keys, I dropped them here the other night.” Bradley ignores the dog and looks back to you without greeting you. He’s in kind of a hurry, Jake’s going to be here any minute and Bradley could do without being ridiculed today.
“Say please.”
It slips your mouth before you’ve even had time to think about it. It’s just the demanding tone and the way he looks at you. This is what would get you in trouble with Jett. You both seem equally surprised at what you just said. You swallow softly and step back.
“Sorry, I just — I’ll get them—“
“Can I have my keys, please?” Bradley asks softly. You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose, holding the towel against your body.
“Yeah, stay there.” You say quietly. You turn your back on him and nudge Tank back with you, catching hold of his collar and gently guiding him back towards the living room. Bradley’s keys are on the counter, approximately three steps from the back door — you had found them while cleaning last night and had been planning on returning them.
One step from the door, two, and then you let go of Tank’s collar. He seems calm enough now, you know him well enough to know that he’ll stay that way as long as Bradley stays outside.
Bradley slips his phone from the pocket of his gym shorts and checks the time. Jake’s going to be here any second. He steps inside, his strides are longer than yours and he’s close enough to you in one step. Too close, as Tank decides.
The dog growls sharply, then leaps up at him again, barking and snarling. The same puppy that had been curled up on the couch with you, wrapped in a cozy blanket and snoring, an hour ago.
You gasp, spinning around and catching the towel to keep it from falling. Bradley’s closer than you’re expecting, he can see the panic in your eyes when you turn. You catch hold of Tank’s collar and pull him back.
“I’m sorry, I was just going to—“
“I told you to wait outside.” You frown at him, brows furrowed, heart pounding in your chest. Maybe a braver person would yell at him now. You’d like to. Bradley glances down at your dog, still growling lowly, now standing between you and him with his heckles up.
This isn’t the first time that this dog has stood between you and a guy who has gotten too close.
Bradley takes a couple of steps back, bumping into the doorframe as he raises his palms in defense. You might forgive him, but Tank’s not so quick to recover. He continues to growl, deep and rumbling, warning the trainer to stay outside.
You swallow softly, fingers curling around his keys without looking back. You take them from the counter and toss them towards him. Bradley catches them in one hand.
“Thank you. Thanks. I’ll — I’ll see you later.” He nods, already half turning away, waving you off and heading down the steps. You step quickly forwards and close the door behind him, clicking the lock shut.
You crouch down and run your fingers over Tank’s fur, humming quietly. “So, you think he’s kind of an asshole too, huh?”
Bradley can’t fault your home security system. With your aim and nearby projectiles, and your new guard dog, he’s certain that if anyone tries to break in up there then they’ll be sorry about it.
He hears Jake’s truck pull up outside just as he’s finished opening up for the morning, the exhaust is fucked and it’s louder than it should be. Bradley walks back to the front desk and pulls his phone out, acting like he has been here and done with his work for a while.
“Wow, you’re here.” Jake quips, raising his eyebrows in amused surprise as he lets the door ring closed behind him. He’s wearing a black cap and matching gym wear today. With his experience and skills, he should probably be at a more upmarket place, but Jake’s got a soft spot for Bradshaw’s.
Sometimes, Bradley wishes he had the same choice.
“You look like you just saw a ghost, you alright?” Jake continues as he steps around the counter and slides the clipboard towards himself, flipping through the pages to find his schedule for the day.
“Yeah, that kid’s dog just lunged for me — don’t think either of them like me.” Bradley scoffs, shaking his head as he leans over Jake’s shoulder. Lots of empty spaces on the schedule, Mav isn’t going to be happy.
“Who, Tank?” Jake looks up, brows furrowing. Bradley nods his head. Jake scoffs, “Wow, you must’ve really pissed him off, he napped in Bob’s lap for like an hour last night. Curled up like a baby.”
As Jake finishes talking, you walk past the front of the gym. Tank’s wearing a harness and walking ahead of you on his leash, tail wagging contentedly. You’re wearing a pretty dress, it’s red, stops mid-way up your thigh and has little flowers on it.
Jake smiles as you turn your head towards the two of them. He lifts his hand and waves his fingers at you through the glass. Bradley stares as you wave chirpily back at the two of them.
It’s a sunny day, and you feel sunnier than you’ve felt in months. You pull your sweater from your bag and lay it out on the grass, then settle down. Tank readily settles with you, laying his head against your legs and wagging his tail.
Tank was an apology. For one of the first times things had gotten bad between you and Jett — an explosive argument that left behind an entire day’s worth of tears. You’d gone to sleep that night swearing that you were going to leave him. The next morning, you had woken up with a tan coloured cuddle bug who needed you to stay.
Before this, you haven’t spent much time on this side of San Diego — you had heard that this wasn’t the best area to hang out in. Maybe that’s why Jett liked to, maybe it made him feel tough. It isn’t like you had thought it would be. Down by the boats, sitting in the grass, it’s nice. There’s a view out over the bay and Tank likes to watch the birds in the trees above you.
“Heads up.” Bob nudges his elbow into Jake’s. Jake lifts his gaze and frowns. They’re standing by the front desk and trying to find stuff to keep them busy so that Mav doesn’t realise how dead it is today. They stare out of the front window together as the car door slams.
“Oh, what the fuck is that assho—“
Jake shoots a look at Natasha. She closes her mouth and breathes out hard, curling her knuckles around the counter as Jett walks towards the door. With guys like Jett, Jake knows what he’s looking for. It’s a fight, nothing more. A couple more of those, one more lawsuit and this place is getting shut down for good.
With everything that Maverick has lost already, Jake’s not going to let that happen.
The bell above the door rings. He’s barely got one foot inside, nostrils flared, dark circles under his eyes. There’s a grey sheen to his skin — maybe drinking too much, maybe something heavier. Jake’s not too sure.
“Where is she?”
Natasha opens her mouth. Bob elbows her softly.
“Where’s who?” Jake shrugs his shoulders calmly.
Jett seethes, surging forwards. Jake takes one step back and squares his shoulders.
“My girl.” Jett spits.
“Why would she be here?” Bob asks gently, leaning forwards on his palms. He adjusts his glasses.
“Cut the shit, I know she’s here! — My neighbour saw her with you.”
Phoenix glances across at Jake. Jake folds his arms over his chest. He’s two weight classes above Jett, and confident in the knowledge that Jett knows he won’t win this fight.
“Here to apologize?” Jake taunts.
“Here to talk her dumb ass down from whatever high horse she’s on. You don’t know her, man, she always freaks out like this.”
Bradley rounds the corner, leaning his head back, breathing hard. That session really took it out of him. He rolls his neck and opens his mouth, then closes it. He stops in his tracks.
He takes a moment to stare at Jett, and then take in what he had just said. Now it all makes sense.
“You want to talk to her?” Phoenix challenges, pushing herself up from her chair and rounding the desk. Behind her, is the internal door, behind that are the stairs to your apartment. “Try it.”
“Don’t think that just because you’re a girl, I won’t—“
That’s enough. They have heard enough. Bob moves to step between him and Phoenix, Jake steps towards Jett. Bradley throws his towel onto the ground and surpasses Jake.
He steps forwards and curls a fist into Jett’s t-shirt.
“Rooster, don’t.”
Rooster knows that there are only a couple more times that the police can get called to this place, and he knows that their insurance isn’t going to cover him starting another fight. Luckily, Jett’s smaller than he is.
His feet lift briefly off of the ground and stumble the rest of the way, scrambling for purchase, his arms swinging out to the sides. Rooster walks him backwards. The bell above the door rings loudly as the door swings open and then closed.
Jett’s shoes scrape along the concrete, not stopping long enough for him to get steady footing. His arms shove at Bradley, but it’s little use. Bradley worked as security for a while, there are a lot of bars downtown and he needed some time away from the gym. He’s used to throwing scrawny losers out onto the curb.
They walk back until Jett’s clear of the property boundary.
He tosses Jett backwards. Jett grunts as his back slams into the hood of his beat up, old car. He slinks down onto the floor. Bradley can tell that he’s going to try to get up before he does.
He leans down in front of your ex-boyfriend, eyes dark and serious, his broad frame blocking out the mid-day sun from behind him.
“You know me, right, Jett?” Bradley asks gently. He’s asking more than if Jett knows his name, which Jett does — he knows about Bradley’s career, and he knows why it’ll never extend past Bradshaw’s. Taking note of the clear recognition in Jett’s blue eyes, he nods his head. “That’s right. So you know that I have a hard time knowing when to stop. Right?”
Jett swallows softly.
Bradley nods his head again. “You come by here again, I’m not gonna stop.”
Tank walks ahead of you happily, his nose pointed up as he takes in his new surroundings. He seems to like it down here, all of the fresh smells, all of the birds. You’re four chapters into a book you’ve been meaning to start for months.
The bell above the door rings, Tank wanders in first and walks right on up to Bob. Your lips quirk slightly as he looks up expectantly at his new friend. You lift your gaze. The four of them are looking at you.
Smiling sweetly, you tilt your head a fraction to the side. “Everything okay?”
“Always is when you’re around, sunshine.” Jake shoots you a quick wink. Your cheeks are warm, and not because you just spent a couple of hours out in the sun. Bob and Natasha relax as you giggle sheepishly.
Bradley’s looking at you differently now. Maybe because Tank scared him this morning. You can’t quite place the look that he has on his face.
“Are Mickey and Javy here? — I had an idea for the website and I need to talk to all of you for it.” You continue on, well aware of those big brown eyes boring into your side as you pull your notebook from your bag and lean forwards onto the counter.
Phoenix shoots Bradley a look. He stares back at her. Everyone knew except him. She told everyone other than him about what had gone down between you and Jett. He didn’t realise that things had gotten that bad. Folding his arms over his chest, he wonders what else she has kept from him over the past few weeks.
…
Behind Closed Doors:
Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!reader
Chapter Three:
Masterlist
No murderer was knocking on innocent women's doors, unfortunately. Only a guilty Bojan. So, at least you got one thing correct?
"I'm trying!" You grunted as Jere's boot slipped from your grip, hitting the ground with a thud.
And you certainly felt innocent - a target even - in all this as you had to help with this mess.
The mess in question is an unconscious Jere.
After the worrying yet annoying texts from him, you found a puffed-out Bojan and a passed-out Jere outside your hotel room. Bojan was equally as tipsy as you were but insisted that you helped carry - or more like drag - Jere to bed. You both had decided on taking him to Bojan's hotel room, which he shared with Kris and Nace, hoping that way if he woke up sick or just very hungover, Kris would be there for him, instead of leaving him alone in his own hotel room. (poor Kris) And also because Jere didn't have his key on him. You only hoped it was misplaced back at the bar so he could retrieve it tomorrow but for now, you were struggling to carry him, and regretting ever leaving him on his own with Joker Out. God knows what happened.
"Well, try more!" Bojan grunted as all of Jere's body weight shifted to his hands, his legs staggering to keep himself steady.
"No shit Sherlock, THAT'S WHAT I'M DOING!" Your voice raised out of frustration as you glared at him while bending down to pick up Jere's legs again, accidentally revealing your cleavage in the dress you still had on from earlier, and grabbing onto his ankles. "My eyes are up here." You spoke flatly as you felt Bojan's eyes on you.
"I mean, it's not like I haven't seen it before," Bojan admitted nonchalantly as he smirked, provoking another glare out of you. You had been doing that a lot today.
You kept a firm grip on Jere's legs as you carefully carried him again and asked, "So, you remembered what happened then?"
"Hmm, I think you need to clarify." Sarcasm oozed off his tongue as he smirked again, making you groan, either because you were using all your strength to carry Jere or because you were fed up with Bojan. Probably both.
All Bojan could do was laugh at your reaction, "I remember us having some fun. Much more fun than well...what this is," He gestured to the passed-out Jere who was flopping about as you both hauled him.
Your eyebrows knitted together, "You say 'having some fun' as if implying we did...something..." You knew the pictures were well, suggestive, to say the least, but you knew for sure you never had sex with him...or either of them!
Bojan laughed, his eyes crinkling as a grin formed on his face as well as his dimples which were faint but still showed themselves to you, only making you want to stare at him for longer than you should. "No, we didn't. Only a little kiss...unless we did and we can't remember," He joked yet this didn't really amuse you. "I know for sure this guy is not gonna remember anything in the morning." He glanced down at Jere and chuckled to himself again, reminiscing on the partying they just enjoyed. A little too much, it seems.
"Good. I mean, I would want to remember that..." You awkwardly cleared your throat. Oh God, you were really talking about this. Changing the subject you asked, "What did you do to him anyway?!"
"Don't blame me! You are Finnish. Aren't you known for this?"
"I guess," you sighed, faintly laughing at your blacked-out best friend and his predicament.
Bojan didn't say anything other than muttering expletives under his breath as you worked up a sweat lugging Jere to the lifts. As soon as you reached them, both of you dropped him to the floor as you stood in front of the lifts. "Oops," While you caught your breath, you chuckled and eyed Jere on the floor but Bojan stayed silent. For a second you thought he was catching his breath like you were, but there was no sound of that. So, you wondered if what you had said about wanting to remember if you did it caught him off guard and made him uncomfortable and/or because the whole sauna situation had made him uneasy - even though he seemed to be making jokes about it just a moment ago and the day before.
However, the moment you looked up from the still passed-out Jere and onto a shocked Bojan, you observed him staring unexpectedly at the lifts. Your confused self continued to watch him for a second before your eyes finally followed his gaze, immediately scanning an OUT OF ORDER sign that was stuck on the doors of the lift, almost mocking you. Not to mention additional caution tape that was stuck around for safety, as if you needed to be rubbed in the face more at the fact you'd have to carry Jere upstairs.
Your expression was just as equally shocked as Bojan's, but at this point it increasingly became irritated. "Of course." Your voice exuded sarcasm before scoffing, shaking your head as you turned back to face Bojan, expecting him to have disappeared, having given up on this whole journey.
But that was far from what would come out of his stupid mouth next.
"Well, we have a mission to complete. You know what they say, seize the day!" Trying not to act absolutely annoyed at the broken lift he cheered his signature line, almost making you automatically roll your eyes. Yet deep inside you wanted to laugh.
Well, this was one way to completely sober up.
____________________
Having almost tripped and fallen down the stairs while hauling Jere you were thankful when you saw Bojan's hotel room in sight. You thought carrying him was hard, until you tried carrying him while walking up stairs...
"Finally!" Exhausted, you flopped on the floor outside the hotel room next to where you rested Jere on the floor. Your head pounded. You and Bojan had successfully made it to the hotel room. Now you just hoped Bojan had the key.
"The key..." his voice sounded uncertain.
You hoped Bojan had the key-
"Uhh-" Looking up at him from the floor, you hoped to see the key in his hand but you couldn't.
"I don't have the key."
A long and tense pause lingered in the stuffy air. You stared at him with an almost blank stare, needing a moment to figure out how you were going to react.
"You what?" You laughed in disbelief.
"I, uh, may have lost the key..."
You were going to react angrily. "YOU WHAT?!" After all that hard work carrying Jere across the hallway along the hotel carpet - which you regret laying on now as the scratchy carpet digger into your skin - and up those steep stairs to the next floor, since the lifts conveniently happened to not be working so you could take Jere to bed, he hadn't thought to care more about keeping the room key safe... "What do we do now?!" Standing up before him, you half asked yourself and the guilty culprit in front of you.
Bojan shifted uncomfortably, "Umm...it must have fallen out of my pocket as we were carrying him!"
"Ugh. Well, you have Jere's key right? We can just go back and put him in his room, it's fine. Not what the plan was but-"
"Nu-uh! Do you know the leading cause of death from being hungover is puking while lying down!"
"Wh-"
"HE'LL CHOKE AND I'LL GET THE BLAME."
"Damn, okay, but you got us into this mess! One hundred percent I'll blame you. So what do you suggest?!" Your hungover headache is creeping its way back, harder this time, as this situation escalates. Although part of you thinks it's not just the hangover causing it.
He scratched his head and avoided your glaring eye contact. "We trace our steps and go back-"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS--"
A noise from beside you pulled your attention from Bojan. You looked over and saw it was Nace who had slammed the door open. "Shut up already! You woke me up and I'm very hungover. And what are all these texts about-" his eyes landed on the wiped-out Jere on the floor. "Oh."
"Thank god you're awake, I lost our room key-"
"Yeah, no thanks to you," Nace grumpily interrupted.
"Please just take him," You sighed and began handing Jere's legs for him to hold, Bojan following your lead. Nace sighed and accepted his fate. It's not like he had a choice anyway, and he just really wanted to go back to sleep, which you could relate to.
After putting Jere to bed, with a glass of water next to him for when he wakes and with the help of Bojan making sure to position him lying on his side to avoid any vomit-choking death, the two of you were ushered out by Nace, who now portrayed a snide smirk plastered across his face. "You're lucky Jan isn't here. He'd have a field day with this," he stifled a laugh, not wanting to make any more noise and wake Kris up, who was still sleeping blissfully unaware of the chaos that just occurred. Nace shut the door in both of your faces, not even bothering to ask where Bojan would sleep, which would be your room. He'd probably find that out from the Queen of Gossip, Jan, in the morning.
Together, you released a sigh of relief and Bojan high-fived you which you grudgingly reciprocated, nonetheless still annoyed at the whole situation.
When you made it back to your own hotel room with Bojan, you sank down on the bed with another sigh. Noticing your tiredness, Bojan handed you some water and stroked your stray hair away from your face, which you weren't expecting him to do though you didn't push his hand away. "Thanks for helping," he spoke lowly, but lightly.
Once his fingertips finished pulling the last strand, tucking it behind your ear gently, your skin burned, yearning for more. But you knew it was wrong, right? That sauna situation embarrassed you and those pictures, even worse. And you still hadn't talked to Bojan about it. Not properly anyway.
You were supposed to be colleagues. But it seems a lot can happen behind closed doors.
Realising you hadn't replied to him you uttered, "It's fine,"
God, of all the things you could say, that was all that came out?
You should shout at him for letting Jere get that drunk - even though everyone knows no one can stop him. You should tell him how embarrassed you are about whatever happened in the sauna. The kiss...The photos...
"I know what you're thinking about," Bojan whispered, almost sing-song-like. As if this was a game. Whatever this was.
"Go on then,"
His eyes squinted as if he was trying to mind-read, and you wondered if he did somehow get more drunk being near a blacked-out Jere for too long because he was staring at you longer than needed, with that piercing glare.
Tauntingly, his eyes quickly lowered to your cleavage again and back up to your eyes. Oh, how you wish you could roll your eyes right now but you were stuck. Frozen. Yet still burning from his touch. You kicked yourself over how fast you seemed to swoon over the singer from Slovenia. That was all he should be to you.
"The kiss." he finally declared.
You took a deep breath, drinking him in, as he seemed closer than he was before. The strands of his fluffy hair fell perfectly on his forehead. Your fingers instantly brushed them away, just as he did yours. entangling with the rest of his dark blond hair. His eyes never left you. They couldn't.
"Is that why you've been ignoring me?"
"I haven't-"
He quirked an eyebrow at you, not believing you for one second.
You sighed again, softly this time. "Okay, maybe I have. So you do also remember taking those photos? Don't you think I'm some kind of slut?"
"What? No way. We were joking around."
"Oh, good. I'm glad they didn't get accidentally posted online or something. That wouldn't be good. Especially for our managers."
He chuckled, "No, it wouldn't,"
"Was this some sort of plan you two came up with?"
He hummed in question, eyebrows furrowing.
"The whole passed-out-Jere-I-need-somewhere-to-sleep fiasco."
"You said we should take him to mine,"
"Yeah because you screamed about how if he dies you'll get blamed, which is still what's gonna happen if he does. For now, Kris and Nace can deal with...that." Your mind wanders to the texts and for a second you imagine it all unravelling. God knows you've seen it happen before, being friends with Jere for so long.
"Did you want it to be? Did you want it so I planned to get in your bed," Bojan's voice was hot, you could suddenly feel it. He was moving closer and closer to you by the minute. And you didn't move away or tell him to do so. You didn't want to. "Because it seems like it. Not to mention" - he leans down, fingertips caressing your leg down to your heels - "your naughty trick."
Naughty, he says.
You blushed intensely, feeling goosebumps rise across your skin at his touch, and at remembering your caressing his leg with your heel. You didn't know what possessed you then in that moment but, boy, you did not regret it. Especially if it meant Bojan would be this close to you right now, making you feel light-headed in an excited way.
His fingertips glide back up, tingling. He leans in and you do too. Tingling now on your lips, just as the photo of him kissing your cheek made you feel. Just as he made you feel in the sauna. Just as he made you feel whenever he looked at you. Kissing never felt this good. A wave of almost relief washed over you. If he thought you were 'weird' or 'a slut' then he wouldn't be kissing you now, would he?
Seeing you were more comfortable, he spoke softly, yet with a hint of something else. Desire.
"Let me make it up to you.
i wanna thank damon for letting jure be sexy, he doesn't get that opportunity enough
He is everything to me. Everyone says: "thank you Amy"
amydorkingphotography
The Double Birthday
A/N: This is very self indulgent because not only is it Lewis’s birthday it’s also mine! So happy birthday to me and Lew (and my twin) and to anyone else who shares the glorious January 29th birthday!!!
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Oral (F receiving), hand-job, unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it), breeding kink (if you squint)
Main Master-List
———
As the sun peeked through the windows of the house, other than the pitter patter of paws on the hardwood before they scratched at the closed door of the bedroom, it was quiet.
Shifting in the sheets, Y/N’s brows furrowed before a gasp let her mouth and her eyes fluttered open as her body tried to curl into itself. Yet Bob’s hands held firm against her hips as he moved her legs to frame his head, his nose bumping against her clit as his tongue delved into her sweet cunt. Her legs tensed as moans fell from her mouth “No fair!” she whined as her hand moved down to tangle itself into Bob’s hair.
Feeling her nail against his scalp a groan left his lips “Oh Sweetheart”, sending a vibration though Y/N’s core causing her toes to curl. Taking one long lick from the bottom of her cunt up to her clit, Bob relished in hearing the sweet moans that emitted from Y/N before he lifted his head up and rested his chin against her hip bone. “It’s your birthday Sweets… I just wanted to give you a good…. Morning” as he spoke the last few words one of his hands slipped from her hip down to her core, slipping his middle and ring finger into her, the coolness of his ring sending goosebumps across Y/N’s legs as he slowly started pumping them in and out of her. “Can’t I give you a good morning?” he smirked as he felt Y/N’s heel dig into his back as she threw her head back into the pillows.
“But it’s your birthday too” She panted “Wanna give you a good morni- Oh Fuuck Bobby!” she gasped breathlessly as he dipped his head back down, to nip at her clit as his fingers picked up their pace. “Ahh! Yes!” Her hand tightened its grip on his hair as Bob interlaced his free hand with her’s “Please don’t stop!” she pleated “Please Bobby! Feel’s so good!” Starting to rock her hips against his face, Y/N noticed how the whole bed started to rock before she glanced down seeing how Bob had buried himself in her cunt as he rutted his hips into the mattress.
Biting her lip, Y/N took in the sight before grabbing onto Bobby’s hair and raising his head, a sigh left her lips before her hands pulled on his shoulder to bring him up to her. Making his way up the bed, his nose brushed against her as her hands pushed the waistband of his sweatpants down. “Happy Birthday Bobby” she hummed, nipping at his bottom lip while her hand slowly stroked Bob’s cock.
Smirking as a gasp left his lips, he pressed a firm kiss to her lips mumbling “Happy Birthday Sweets” before he replaced her hand with his, guiding his cock into her dripping cunt. Seating himself into her, Bob placed one of her legs over his shoulder as he hitched the other over his hip, holding it in place before slowly rutting his hips into her’s.
“Bobby!” she gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into her skin.
After grinding into her hips, Bobby slowly unsheathed himself before slowly pushing back into her, keeping his pace slowly and his strokes long. Burying his head into her neck, he kissed his way just below her ear “You know what I want for my birthday Sweets?” he panted before licking the shell of her ear “I want you to come all over my cock… I… want… this pretty… Little… Cunt… to absolutely… soak me” he emphasized every word with a thrust before picking up his pace “Can you do that for me?”
Feeling her start to squeeze around him Y/N nodded her head frantically “Yes! Yes Please” she whined before she turned her head into Bob’s ear “You know what… what I want for my- Shit! My birthday” she forced the words from her mouth, knowing she had to say it before she was too blissed out to say anything “I want your cum Bobby, I wan- OH FuCK YES!” She cried as Bob moved her other leg over her shoulder before she felt his fingers circle over her clit as he planted his feet into the mattress, folding her in half as he pounded into her.
The bed rocked back and forth, headboard slamming into the wall with the momentum, Bob’s forehead pressed into the crook of Y/N’s neck “Yeah you wanna be full of me Sweets?” he mumbled
“Fuuck yes! Please” she pleaded, feeling her legs start to shake. Taking her hands in his, Bob laced their fingers together as Y/N knuckles turned white as her back arched from the bed “OH MY GO-“ as she was pushed over the edge her moans were cut off from Bob pressing his lips to hers to silence his own cries as his hips shuttered before he slammed his hips into Y/N one last time. His hips and legs tensed as they came down from their highs.
Lips still seared together before Y/N freed one of her hands from Bob’s grasp to trail it over his shoulder and down his back. “fuck Sweets” he mutter as a shiver made its way down his back before he rested his forehead against hers. “… Have a good start to the Double Birthday?” he hummed, moving to kiss the top of her nose.
“But best start to the Double Birthday, Bobby” she smiled back.
——
Ppl who might be interested: @sebsxphia @beachbabey @thesluttyarchivist @hangmanapologist @hangmanbrainrot @rhettabbotts @auroralightsthesky @fanboygarcia @mothdruid @writercole @sweetlittlegingy @weakling-grace @glodessa @sunlightmurdock @tigerlillyyy @withahappyrefrain
Steam IV
Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader
Genre: ATLA au, enemies(?) to lovers, forbidden romance, royalty au
General Warnings: violence (bending fights), injuries (mentions of broken bones, burns, blood, bruises), alcohol consumption, mentions of prostitutionSmut Warnings: multiple smut scenes, fingering, dry humping, slight exhibitionism, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex, handjob, hair pulling, marking, virgin!reader, wonwoo has a tiny bit of a corruption kink, breeding kink, marking
Length: ~19k | Fic Length: ~64k
Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos
Note: ITS HERE, steam is officially done :(((((( i made the doc for this fic back in february and didnt start actually writing until October. now i've got over 64k words in the longest fic i've ever written. ill get weird if i talk to much. ALSO IMPORTANT!!! ice lilies look like lily of the valley. just for reference
summary: Wonwoo is the best fire bender in Capitol City. Or he is. But a water bender he's never seen before changes everything.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
The dueling arena of the palace was massive; bigger than the warehouse Wonwoo was accustomed to fighting in; rows and rows of seats lining the entire perimeter of the central field, stone columns draped in blue fabric with the royal seal embroidered in silver thread. The rain from the previous day baked away in the hot sun hanging heavy in the sky. Guests lined the benches, not a single seat vacant, voices loud in excitement. The council of nobles sat at attention amongst them, weighing and measuring every man as a potential ally or enemy on the throne. Even Commander Aiko attended, sitting in one of the boxes reserved for the queen's personal guests.
This was what they had been waiting for since your intent to marry was announced. This was all that mattered.
Sweat dripped at Wonwoo’s collar. Not from the heat of the day in his black uniform but his own nerves. After the garden, you dragged him into your room, sat on his lap and kissed him for hours like it was the last time you two ever would. Wonwoo kept his clothes on - even as you plucked at the ties and buttons of his soaked uniform - he kept your wandering hands at bay. The queen had prepared him for what the others would say when he declared himself as a competitor, and he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of being right. Couldn’t live with himself.
Wonwoo thought of this morning. When you snuck into his room for one last kiss before the servants came to whisk you away, still in your nightgown, face soft with sleep and eyes half closed as you crawled into his bed and woke him with more of those maddening touches. If all he left the palace with was memories then those would be his fondest.
On the dais, you looked like the perfect image of royal propriety in pearl jewelry and a deep blue gown, back pin straight as you sat next to your grandmother. You kept your gaze forward on the field where the champions would be presented. All the traces of yesterday were gone. Now you sat as princess and soon-to-be queen; half of the woman Wonwoo loved. The other half hidden away in your sitting room, falling asleep as Wonwoo read from your book of stories to the symphony of the previous night's storm.
The Queen rose from her throne and approached the balcony to address the crowd. “Friends, esteemed guests. I am honored to host you today, as we gather for the tournament for my granddaughter, Princess YN’s, hand.”
The crowd roared in response. Wonwoo’s pulse hammered through his clenched jaw to the beat of their applause.
“Present your champions.”
Gyan, Char, Maoki, Bavruq, and others stepped forward, all with the same confident air swirling their shoulders. Wonwoo wasn’t scared. Especially not of Maoki. Even if he lost there would be satisfaction in wiping the floor with the smirky boulder bouncer. Bavruq was older, more experienced but that didn't scare Wonwoo either. He faced men twice his age, revered military men with medals of honor and walked away victorious. Char, Gyan, and the others were wildcards.
Wonwoo snuck to the edge of the balcony and descended the stairs into the arena as the last champions presented themselves. No one paid attention to him. He held the same weight as a servant, blended into the background because people purposefully ignored him. As such, no one stopped him from approaching the line where the other men waited.
He swallowed back his nerves and stepped forward as the queen motioned to speak again; just as she instructed him yesterday.
“There is one more challenger,” Wonwoo called.
The queen kept her face neutral and leveled him with a heavy look. “Who?”
“Me,” Wonwoo announced, chin tipped upwards.
The tension in the arena swelled and exploded. Wonwoo kept his eyes glued to yours, the way your jaw dropped in shock before the icy masks secured back into place.
“What?”
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Outrageous!”
“Who speaks for this man?” the queen asked.
“I do.” Aiko came forward, out of the raging crowd ready to murder Wonwoo.
So that’s why the Queen invited him. Aiko nodded at him briefly, focusing on the queen. Wonwoo noticed a subdued air to the older man. Aiko only ever stood at attention, years of muscle memory keeping him taunt. This was different. The queen seemed to battle a smile.
When I was her age, I loved a man who was considered below my station. A guard who I became friends with as a young woman in the palace…
Aiko.
Wonwoo stood where his commander once stood, caught between his duty and his heart. History repeated itself and this time Aiko wouldn’t let you and Wonwoo make the same mistakes.
“The rules of the competition state any man of good standing with the crown may compete,” the queen said. “Our brave Commander Aiko vouches for Captain Jeon. He shall compete in tomorrow's games.”
If you didn’t murder him in his bed tonight.
The queen adjourned herself and the council of nobles. Others stayed, mingling and eying him with suspicion. Wonwoo kept his chin high, shoulders back. He would not show fear even in the face of starving wolves who wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out.
Eventually, the arena cleared. Han and Sami found him, and led him away to a different maid he’d never met before. She led him to a wide set of ornate double doors revealing a small suite in the western wing of the palace, as far away from your room as possible. His belongings were laid out in the room; books on the desk, clothes tucked away in the dresser. They must have moved everything immediately after the queen granted her blessing.
It didn’t strike him until then that of course he would no longer be sleeping in your apartment after declaring his intent to win your hand. Now, whether anyone liked it or not, Wonwoo was a suitor and propriety needed to be maintained. No more late night chats in your dining room or stumbling into your bath. No more whisking you away with fake meetings. You treated Wonwoo like an equal from the first day you met, it was the kingdom that now followed suit.
“These cords will call the kitchen,” the maid, Juli, explained, pointing to the crimson ribbon hanging from the walls, “and these will call the maid's quarters should you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
Wonwoo tried to relax in his new quarters but the quiet unnerved him. Only a few weeks ago he would have found this space to be a blessing but now it felt too big, too lonely. The suite had a small training area and he worked through his forms over and over again, welcoming the ache in his muscles as distraction.
His confidence rose with each punch and kick. Those royals and nobles probably sparred with tutors too nervous to push them, who always let them away with an easy win and a pat on the back. Wonwoo grew up fighting in the streets of the Middle District, spent hours in the ring where it was win or starve. He knew what it was like to fight with something to lose. Now he stood to lose you and he refused.
He’d win. There was no other option as far as he was concerned.
After a final set, Wonwoo retired to his bedchamber, quickly washed up in the bathroom that reminded him too much of yours and then fell into a shallow sleep.
Chaos claimed the council chamber. Nobles from each house attempted to speak their grievances over one another, echoing the same sentiment again and again.
“He cannot compete! It is a shame to our allies!”
“Lock him in the dungeon for insubordination!” Lord Zo hissed.
Fists slammed against tables, chairs clattered to the ground as more incensed men rose to their feet to yell across the aisle.
“He is a commoner! He has no title!”
“If his lack of title is such a cause for concern then perhaps he can have yours, Lord Gaha,” your grandmother responded. Her voice chilled the air and immediately the ranchous nobles silenced under the threat. She looked giddy.
“Your Majesty, I only mean—”
“How dare we entertain the thought of a peasant on the throne? A peasant who doesn’t even know the first thing about ruling a kingdom!” Lord Baelor roared. “It’s dishonorable to even consider the notion—“
Dak threw his hands in the air. “You’re one to talk of honor. Your nephew has enough bastards to fill half the arena!”
Belaor’s face flushed ruby red. “He has no right to wear the crown. To consider the possibility is an insult.”
“The competition is designed to measure a person’s merit,” interrupted Senator Mo. “Not their luck to be born in the correct family.”
“The law states anyone of good standing can compete. Aiko, you vouched for the man. What do you say?” The queen asked Commander Aiko,
“Captain Jeon is one of the few, perhaps the only, man I would consider to be my successor,” Commander Aiko announced. “He is as good a man as any other presented today. I’d consider it a grave miscalculation for anyone to think differently.”
“But what message are we sending by allowing him to compete? And what if he wins? Does he bring money? Connections? Allies?”
Minister Gul had a point. Your grandmother married for wealth and allies, your parents much the same. Political marriages brought benefits to the kingdom. A marriage with Wonwoo only brought benefits for you.
“I believe you are getting ahead of yourself, Minister Gul,” you responded shakily.
“If Captain Jeon wins, then he will rally the citizens of the kingdom. To see one of their own kind ascend to power, to be respected, that is a man that can rule a country. Not a stranger from far away who will send people off to die in their own wars without understanding the sacrifices they are making in his name.” Your grandmother nodded. “But first he must win the tournament on his own and prove he is a better man.”
Grumbles of begrudged approval echoed through the chamber.
“Since it is her marriage, I believe the decision ultimately is my granddaughter’s.”
Dozens of eyes turned to you expectantly. A part of you, a spiteful sliver of your conscience, wanted to reject Wonwoo’s attempt to compete; punish him for leaving you in the dark. You seethed at your grandmother for planting ideas in his head.
“If he wishes to compete then I say let him. If it is the lack of title you are concerned about then I will remind you all that title doesn’t prevent people from dying for the crown in our army. It should not prevent someone from sitting on the throne either.”
No one spoke then, the words hung in the air like heavy fog. You stared at Galin, pinning him in place until he cleared his throat and spoke.
He sputtered to attention. “The princess is wise. If she believes Captain Jeon should be eligible to compete then I agree with her.”
“He has proven himself to be a man of honor which is more what I can say of the others who came forward today,” Dak chimed in.
Others slowly began nodding. Several were on the list Galin delivered to your office shortly after your meeting. You eyed them pointedly until they also agreed. Loudly.
“Then it is settled,” your grandmother said firmly.
A few grumbled under their breath, but voiced no more objections despite the obvious desire on their face; flaring tempers, clenched fists, and furrowed brows. The decision had been made. Wonwoo would compete.
The meeting adjourned and on the way back to your apartment, you hatched your own plan.
It took some begging for Han to lead you through the tunnels to Wonwoo’s new accommodations. If your grandmother thought tucking him away in a secluded wing of the palace could keep you away, she was wrong.
“This is so romantic,” she sighed dreamily.
You stewed in silence a few paces behind her. It wouldn’t be romantic when you screamed at him for being an idiot. Before you burned through the last of your patience, she stopped in front of a door and took her leave.
Your annoyance waned at Wonwoo’s sleeping face, bittersweet fondness swelling in your heart. He was flopped on the mattress - too tired to pull the covers aside apparently - snoring softly. You cupped his cheek and smiled when he nuzzled into your palm gently.
Then you dumped the pitcher from his side table on his head.
“What the hell?” he coughed.
It gave you enough satisfaction to pull the water from the bed sheets into an orb over his head and drop it again.
“Stop!” Wonwoo sputtered and glared up at you.
“No!” You lifted your arms to do it again but Wonwoo caught your wrists, flipped you beneath him and pinned your arms into the pillows. “Get off me!”
“Stop trying to drown me!”
“No!”
You thrashed against him and Wonwoo flattened on top of you. “Then you’re staying put.”
“This was your plan?” you seethed. The vase on his dresser cracked from your anger, the water frozen solid. Wonwoo held fast, and you deflated in resolution.
“I knew you wouldn’t agree, which is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
“Of course I wouldn’t agree!” you scoffed. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I assure you I’m very sane.”
“You can’t assure me of anything.” You thrashed again, this time flipping him over and pinning him beneath you. He could’ve gotten out of the hold if he wanted to but instead he rested his hands on your thighs and gave a reassuring squeeze. “They’re going to try to kill you and make me watch. I… how can you ask me to sit through that?”
Something wounded flashed through his gaze. “You don’t think I can win?”
You knew he could win but you didn’t want him to pay the price to. He didn’t get it. How much it would hurt you to watch him take a beating for your sake. Over and over and over again. You wanted to shake him until he understood. Outside the window, the moon sat small in the night sky, a little more than a crescent, edges blurred by thin clouds. You felt it like fingers up your spine. So small and powerless.
“They’ll stop at nothing to prove a point! If you lose you'll spend months in the infirmary and if you win then you’ve made some very powerful enemies.”
“If I lose then you marry someone else and if I win you marry me. So I just won’t lose.”
You threw your hands up in exasperation. “Well if it’s that simple.”
It wasn’t easy to admit you were scared, like swallowing a mouth full of ash. You couldn’t see him hurt because of you, for you. Even if he won, what was the price he’d have to pay at the hands of scorned men who thought of him as nothing more than a thorn in their side.
“Fine. Get yourself killed, see if I care.” You rolled off him with an ‘arrogant hothead’ under your breath before moving towards the door. Wonwoo rushed to catch you and pinned you against the wall.
“When I win, will you have me?” Wonwoo dragged the tip of his nose against yours, eyes sinking shut as the tension swelled. You didn’t push him away. You didn’t want him anywhere other than where he was at that very moment even if you wanted to dump another pitcher over his head. You wanted him by your side. Always.
You kissed him once then responded with a frown. “Win and find out.”
Wonwoo kissed you again. He kissed your cheeks, chin, your nose. The wrinkles in your brow that refused to smooth. He was still so warm with sleep and it lulled your raging pulse until you surged and caught his mouth in a frenzy.
You didn’t know everything about marriage. In fact, you knew very little and realized more and more how out of your depth he was as the hours passed since that morning. But right then you couldn’t help believing that it was the first testament to what a life with him would be. One of you inevitably upsetting the other, only to forgive just as swiftly; flowing back and forth just like your elements. A flicker and an inferno, a ripple and a tsunami.
“Wait,” you blurted, pulling away from his hold. “I’m still mad at you.”
“Then let me apologize.” Wonwoo lifted you onto the dresser, parted the front of your robe and bunched the fabric of your nightgown around your thighs before claiming the space between them. He released a deep breath as he discovered how little you wore beneath.
You hadn’t walked across the palace without underwear or bindings with any intent. Not that it mattered. You tugged at the tie on his sleep shirt until he stood in nothing but his bottoms. Soft touches have you both warm, sighs of breath ruffling your hair line. Your arms snaked around his shoulders - fingers diving into the short hairs at the base of his skull - and exhaled. “Is this how you plan to apologize every time we argue?”
“Depends…” His fingers slipped up, too high on your thigh but not high enough. Nowhere near where you wanted him to touch you; just grazing, before moving away.
If Wonwoo plans to tease then you will too.
“On?” You sucked his ear lobe.
Wonwoo grunted at the sting, fingers rising a fraction higher. “How willing you are to forgive me afterwards.”
“Then I guess that depends…”
“On?”
“If previous experiences are anything to go by, then that leaves me in a very difficult position.” You faltered into an airy sigh as he bit your collarbone. All teeth and no mercy. Your blood turns thick as he does it again further up your neck. “And I really want to be mad at you.”
His hands ran across your ribs, cupped your breast as he thumbed your stiffening nipples. He pulled back to look over you, cheeks pink and eyes glazed, far too cocky for your liking but you let it slide. Just once.
“Still angry?”
“Furious.”
He took a nip of your pulse and smiled when you choked on a moan. Then you kissed him, grabbed his face and pulled him close with a desperate arch in your spine. The hard tent of his pants pressed into your core. An easy target for your wandering hands.
“I,” his voice hitched from a tight fist. “I thought I was apologizing.”
It was your turn to smile and tease. “Can’t multitask?”
“I—” he choked into a brilliant shade of red as you dipped your hand beneath the fabric and thumbed the leaking tip.
“What’s wrong?” you smirk, palming him with more vigor. “Something distracting you?”
You pressed your tongue along his lower lip, invited it into his mouth and swallowed his moan as you worked him with quick, tight strokes. Your knees itch to sink to the ground and put your mouth on him, lick and suck his cock the way he did to you. Give him a fraction of the relief that's been so greedily reserved for only you up until now.
“You…” Wonwoo panted against your neck. ”You fight dirty.”
“Me?”
Wonwoo pulled you off the dresser, knocking your hand away as you both tripped towards the bed. He pushed you down with a light bounce before laying on top of you and biting at your chin. “Take your dress off.”
“Whatever for?” you gasped. You knew but wanted him to say it; wanted him to vocalize how badly he wanted to touch you.
You pushed him off with a jagged finger on his chest and waited.
Like always, Wonwoo met the challenge head on.
“I want to taste you,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear. “I want to make you come again and again and again until you can’t remember your own name. Keep you in this bed until they drag me away.” Your hips curled into nothing. “I want you to be my wife, and let me take care of you the way a husband should.”
You sunk deeper into the mattress, the only thing preventing you from floating away was Wonwoo’s weight and his fingers wedging between your thighs to take advantage of the slippery warmth. He didn’t try bartering for access, simply flipping the fabric up until it pooled around your throat. “And how is that?”
He sucked a nipple between his teeth, rougher than before; patience worn thin from having his cock in your hand. It sat sticky and used against your thigh and the horribly tempting thought of what would happen if you touched him the way he touched you took root.
Wonwoo inside you, surging between your legs like he had in your hand; cumming inside you, marking you as his. The first. The only. Your core clenched.
You tried to sink a hand down, circle him in a tight grip with hopes he’d maybe make the tempting fantasy real. But he snatched it away and pinned it beside your head. Huffing his name, you pouted against placating kisses.
Wonwoo dragged you closer to the edge of the bed. You're exposed perfectly to his eyes, body completely on display to be touched exactly how he wanted to. Focused on rubbing your clit until you couldn’t breathe, Wonwoo sank to his knees at the edge of the mattress and put his mouth to use pressing teasing kisses across your hips. His teeth raked over your hip bone. “Tell me what you want, Your Highness.”
You couldn’t think straight enough to chastise him for the name, angling him closer with a hand in his hair. “You.”
“More specific.” He gave a shallow thrust of a finger but that was all.
“Touch me,” you whined pathetically.
“I am.” You felt his laughter against your skin. Another press of his finger but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
“I want—I want you to…Wonwoo, please.”
He pushed your legs wider, making more room for himself as he licked a broad strip up your core. A throaty groan vibrated against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. He sucked tenderly at your clit. Your back arched, nipples aching for more attention.
“Don’t stop,” you warned.
You moaned at the electrifying feeling when he gently coaxed your clit to life with his tongue, tracing it with devastating precision over and over again, lapping away the arousal he’s stoked out of you in excess. He didn’t let you rut into the friction. Kept you pressed flat for whatever plans he had, biting the crease of your thigh before resuming mind numbing touches.
You watched his lips, pink and swollen, as he lathered your core in wet kisses and then suctioned tight until you bowed off the bed. The fingers curved into your inner walls warmed, easing the stretch enough you choke on a beg for another. “Oh, spirits.”
He licked a little firmer, refusing to treat you as something fragile when you chant his name the way you learned he liked. If this was an apology you’ve forgiven him tenfold. Every swipe of his tongue dragged you deeper; forgetting anything beyond where he pulled your strings like a puppet master.
The feeling tickled up your legs. You’ve sweated out of your own skin, warm and blushing head to toe. Everything’s tighter, hotter - wetter - as Wonwoo snuck a hand up your front and flicked your nipple until it hardened. You stopped thinking. Let him give whatever he could, soaked in the attention until his name like a weak mantra until your voice broke. Your thighs squeezed numb and finally that feeling snapped into a million pieces.
When your heart calmed and feeling returned, your lover was already tracing a gentle trail up your body with his mouth. Wonwoo nestled close, cock hard against your thigh. “Forgive me?”
You cupped his wet cheeks and kissed him until the taste of your own arousal faded away. The warmth of his body on yours left you sweating. Too hot to be touching like that but tomorrow he’d be entering the lion's den, and it’d be a miracle if he came back to you completely unscathed.
Your greed was Wonwoo’s downfall.
He fell to his back with gentle prodding, taking the initiative to pull you into his lap and pointedly ignore your nudity in such close proximity to his; cock displayed out in the open, pants halfway down his thighs. Wonwoo let you memorize all the ridges of muscle and soft plains of his chest; laid there silently through the painstaking tease of your fingers mapping his body. His only demands came in the form of weighted kisses to your lips.
You watched him fight the urge to touch you as well; fingers twitching where he gripped your sides, hands smoothing over bare hips in an attempt to distract himself, jaw clenching as your nails caught on his nipples. You were the queen of the world in his bed.
Wonwoo sucked a tight breath through his teeth when you gripped his cock once more.
He shut up when your tongue traced the curve of his thigh, down, down, down until his cock sat front and center. Steeled with false bravado, you licked the tip, savoring the taste leaking eagerly. His hips kicked, nudging the head through your lips into the wet heat of your mouth, catching you off guard. Wonwoo choked out an apology but you ignored it; seeing him lose control was more intoxicating than ten bottles of fire whiskey.
You did what he had done to you before, sucking and licking, gaining more confidence with each throaty groan you received. You felt dirty; on your knees for a man who wasn’t your husband yet, cock in your mouth, how it turned you on to have him completely exposed and at your mercy.
You pressed a kiss to the tip and pulled back. “Does it feel good?”
Wonwoo answered with another indecipherable grunt and you took it as permission to suck his cock back between your lips. He cued you into the motions; back and forth and back and forth. The same rhythm used on his fingers and face to find your own end. Each time he moaned you took it a little deeper, preening as he choked in shock at the barrier of your throat.
“I-I’m —fuck— I’m gonna,” he grunted, fingers flexed at his sides, so dedicated to maintain some semblance of control.
That wouldn’t do.
The competitive part of your brain, the side that was unignorable in Wonwoo’s presence, roared at the challenge. You sucked him deeper, eyes watering as instinct guided you through.
He tried not to thrust into the brutal sanction, hands flying to the sheets, grip hard enough his arms shook as he watched you with rapt attention. The beginning of a blush spread through your cheeks as he gawked boldly.
You jumped back in shock as evidence of his spend flooded your mouth. Some dribbled down your chin, stained your lips, mixing with spit as he came on your pout. You didn’t mind the taste; you could learn to love it if the universe gave you another chance to unravel Wonwoo one thread at a time. You swallowed the mess, licked it up from what your tongue could reach, sucked his softening cock again for good measure until he tugged you up his body and rolled on top of you, hiding his face in the curve of your neck.
“You are…” he grunted, “going to cause me a lot of problems.”
You brushed back the hair sticking to his face, soaking in his glow like it's your own. “Still plan to marry me?”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
He begged you to stay; not in words but touches. Pulling your clothes from your hands, lacing his arms around your waist and tugging you back to the bed each time you tried to get up.
It wouldn’t hurt to bend a little. The palace was fast asleep and no one would come looking for you for hours so you allowed him to pull you down and spoon you from behind. You sighed and moaned as he kissed your neck and wedged a hand between your legs until you came again. When you tried touching him in turn he shivered with sensitivity and pushed your hands away.
When you rose to leave the final time, Wonwoo had started to nod off and you weren't much better; eyes burning from fatigue and brain fuzzy from another orgasm under the hands of your lover.
The door to the tunnels was tucked away behind a pillar near the bathroom door. Wonwoo watched you with keen eyes as you made your way to it. “And where does this passage go? Your office? The gardens?”
“Actually,” you turned with a smile and eyed the stain on the front of his trousers, “This one leads to my bedroom.”
“Don’t tempt me with that,” he groaned, flopping back on the mattress.
“Survive tomorrow and maybe I’ll show you the way.”
You fell asleep clinging to the tiny spark of hope in your chest.
The arena boomed like an organized riot. Ranchous voices filled the space, deafening as the nobles and servants alike clamored with excitement in the stands.
It was truly no different than the warehouse Wonwoo grew up fighting in. If Jeonghan appeared then he’d start taking bets, Dokyeom would lead the crowd in cheers and make a huge spectacle of the match. Seungcheol would watch from the highest stands with his wife. Wonwoo saw his friends easily fitting into the unfamiliar space and it gave him the confidence he needed to step into the battlefield.
Maoki stood at the opposite end of the field, bouncing from one foot to the other. He looked nervous; beet red face already covered in sweat. Maoki was a senator which meant he probably never saw a real fight, let alone participated in one. He probably did his military service the same way all noble sons did: symbolically.
You sat high above the rest. The crown of silver and jewels glittered in the sun, face stoic. You stared at nothing while Wonwoo stared right at you as the official recited the rules, hoping to catch your gaze before he humiliated Maoki in front of everyone. When the official said his name, you finally looked, startled to find him already waiting to greet you. You rushed to look away but Wonwoo caught the twitch of your lips threatening to bloom into a smile.
He remembered last night, how you felt beneath him, on top of him. How you knelt between his legs with wide eyes, face shining with his cum. He focused on the more innocent acts like you tracing shapes between his shoulders or the snorts of over tired laughter. When he won this match he’d go back to his quarters and hear that melodic calming sound again.
Wonwoo didn’t risk finding out if Maoki was as unskilled as he seemed. After the call to start the match, he charged forward, blades of fire filling his hands.
Maoki slammed a stone pillar into his gut and sent Wonwoo skittering back. He managed to dodge the next blow aimed straight for his head and rushed forward again. Maoki yanked the ground from beneath his feet, but Wonwoo used the momentum to leap over Maoki and slam his foot into the center earhtbender’s chest.
Fear and pain twisted Maoki’s face. He raised his hands and the earth around Wonwoo’s feet formed thick boots, locking him in place as the other man hurled huge chunks of rock at him. Wonwoo threw his arms up and defended from the worst of it, jets of fire crumbling the largest boulders into pebbles. There was no way out of the trap without breaking his ankles unless Maoki stopped his assault.
Wonwoo didn’t have to think long about escaping because the force of the next boulder launched him out of the trap and sent him sprawling across the arena. Something in his side made a sickening crunch, it hurt to breathe too deeply. He refused to stay down despite the pain. If he lost this competition, it wouldn’t be to someone like Maoki. He’d rather die.
“You think she loves you? You’re nothing, just some pathetic babysitter with a crush,” Maoki sneered.
Wonwoo stayed silent and dodged the next onslaught of dagger like earth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he rushed to where Maoki stood. Maoki sent a thick wall to prevent him from gaining ground but Wonwoo sprung over it and blasted a stream of fire from his fist.
Maoki rolled out of the way. “Unless… you’ve already had her.”
“You piece of shit!” Wonwoo roared, fire blazing from his fists. The air reeked of ozone. Lightening jumped from his skin but Wonwoo pulled it tighter, stuffed deep down where he maintained control. He couldn’t kill Maoki no matter how much he wanted to.
The shorter man’s face lit up with petty pride. “Is that it? You damaged the princess and now you think you’re doing something honorable?”
The earth churned beneath Wonwoo’s feet but he was faster.
He saw nothing but the ruby blood gushing from Maoki’s nose.
Silence. The arena sat in complete silence as Maoki fell to his knees, clutching the burned side of his face, shrieking in pain. No one moved. No one cheered. Only Maoki’s choked gasps filled the arena.
You told Wonwoo they would make an example of him if given the chance, so he made an example of Maoki first.
He knelt beside Maoki, watched him writhe in pain. The smell of burnt flesh rolled his stomach but Wonwoo didn’t flinch away. “If you ever say anything about YN again, she’s the one you’ll answer to. And she will not be as merciful as I am.”
Wonwoo stepped back as healers rushed to the fallen man’s side. Maoki would be fine, Wonwoo put more of his fist behind the blows than his fire. The burn they would heal; but the shame Maoki felt would linger forever.
Good.
“First victory: Captain Jeon!”
Wonwoo remained on his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain radiating across his entire body demanding attention. Spots floated in his vision and his ear rang with a high pitched screech. The hand that made contact with Maoki’s face was definitely broken, hanging limply by his side. But he walked back to his room without assistance, locked himself away in his room, and promptly passed out from the pain.
Wonwoo didn’t wake until after you started healing him. You cleaned away the dirt and caked blood with a wet cloth, careful of broken bones and tender muscles. He was so tired he didn’t budge an inch, only the shallow rise and fall of his chest proving he was, in fact, still alive.
You focused on washing away some of the grime matting the hair around his temple and when you leaned away, a pair of brown eyes greeted you.
“What were you doing out there? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Getting my ass kicked wasn’t a part of the plan,” he croaked.
You poured him a glass of water and held it to his lips. “Oh, so now there’s a plan.”
He drank until the cup emptied before answering. “There’s always been a plan. First, I win. Then, I beg you to marry me. And then, you finally take pity and say yes.”
“What an incredible plan, I can’t believe I ever doubted you.” You set the glass down and conjured water to cover your hands. “Now hold still.”
“It hurts.” He groaned and attempted to wiggle away but didn’t make it very far before giving up.
“I haven’t even touched you.”
“It still hurts.”
“It’ll hurt worse if you don’t hold still and let me help.”
With most of the filth wiped away the damage became clear. You healed the smaller scrapes littering his torso and arms, then the bruises. It took several passes but they slowly cleared until nothing but unblemished skin remained with faint pink scars. His hand was nasty work, broken bones wrapped in angry swollen flesh. He stiffed as you lifted it, a choked scream stuck in his chest, then relaxed as the healing water enveloped it, soothing away the pain.
Then it was time for his ribs.
“Don’t move. The closer to your heart the more risk,” you warned, hands cloaked in freshwater. He jumped as the bones knit back together, winced in pain but sat still. “Okay, I can’t do much more now. You’ll be sore tomorrow but Raza gave Jao some nasty blows so at least you’ll be evenly matched.”
He panted. “Great.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” You crossed towards the bathroom with the pitcher in hand, dumping it in the sink and returned to find Wonwoo sitting up at the edge of the bed like he attempted to follow you but couldn’t manage it.
“I know—” he panted.
“If you talked to me about it first then—“
Wonwoo cut in. “Then what?”
There was no then. You’d been completely resigned to your fate while Wonwoo made a plan, found an ally in your grandmother. There was no use in suffering through hypotheticals. He would win with his blood and sweat and your tears shed in the solitude of your room. But you didn’t have to like it.
“I don’t like watching you get hurt,” you admitted quietly, taking the space between his spread legs and cupping his face.
Wonwoo snorted and looked up at you. “Unless you’re the one doing it.”
“You make me sound horrible.”
“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.”
You combed a hand through his hair. “I have you at my mercy and you want to insult me?”
Wonwoo wrapped his arms around your waist, still careful of his hand, and buried his face in your stomach.
“Stay,” Wonwoo sighed.
You kissed the top of his head, fingers following the muscles across his back. He’s had knicks and scraps there too. You tugged at the water in the vase on his dresser and soothed them away. “I can’t.”
“Just for a little while. Don’t think I forgot about you showing me how to get to your room.”
“I don’t think you're in much condition to make use of the information,” you smiled.
One brown eye cracked up, peeking up at you. “All I wanted was to sleep. What were you thinking?”
It took great effort to get him beneath the covers but once he was settled you claimed the space next to him. If this brought him comfort you’d oblige. Maybe it brought comfort to you too. After watching him take a beating it was nice to feel the solid weight of his body next to you, the warm smell of smoke and spice that clung to him no matter what; knowing he was okay, at least for now. Your grandmother said the first flower to bloom had the most difficulties, and bloom Wonwoo did. The palace murmured with quiet curiosity after his victory.
A few hours of sleep wouldn’t be so bad. You slept better knowing he was nearby anyway. You rained gentle kisses over the side of his face, careful to avoid the lingering bruises. Wonwoo hummed in content, trying and failing to catch your lips with his own.
“I love—”
“Don’t.”
He leaned back and gave a puzzled look.
You brush a kiss against his frown. “I want to hear it after you win.”
Because a part of me is terrified that you won’t.
The objection sat on his face but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he burrowed down into your chest and slept.
When he woke up the first time, you’re still there, eyes dropping while staring out the window. Every time you started to nod off you jolted awake, paranoid until his chest swelled with another breath. The moon swelled in the sky, daylight still a long ways off.
“You stayed,” he whispered, burrowing down into your chest to savor the comfort for a few more minutes.
Your hand didn’t stop tracing lazy shapes between his shoulder blades. “You asked me to.”
“You need to get back before—“
“Let me worry about that.” You smoothed the wrinkle in his brow with your thumb. “Sleep.”
Wonwoo did.
When Wonwoo woke the second time, you were gone, the bed sheets already long cooled. You could heal his injuries but the exhaustion for yesterday lingered deep in his veins, making itself at home and weighing him down. He stumbled out of his suite and towards the arena for another fight.
Under the blazing sun, his fire burned hotter. More powerful. Easier to call upon. But whatever advantage he had in the midday sun, Jao had too. Wonwoo approached the center of the arena, the dry earth cracking beneath his boots. The nobles in the stands sat up straighter, strained their jeweled necks for the best view. His victory yesterday sent ripples through the ranks. Or at least, that's what the maids talked about as he ate breakfast. All were curious about the supposed dark horse that burnt half a senator's face off and walked away in silence.
“Prince Jao of the Earth Kingdom, and Captain Jeon of the Royal Army,” the official called. Jao tilted his chin cockily, and eyed the cheering crowd. Jao was your friend, he remembered. But Jao was also a prince and standing in Wonwoo’s way. He wouldn’t take the same vengeance like he had on Maoki but a fight was a fight.
The official signaled them to start and without preamble, Wonwoo thrusted his hands forward, unleashing a vicious wave of fire. The flames crackled, swirled violently like an inferno out of control, the air shimmered around it from the heat.
And hit nothing.
Jao dodged, sidestepped, and parried no matter how Wonwoo attacked him; used only the minimal energy necessary to deflect or avoid each blow. Wonwoo’s body ached, but his pride fueled him.
“You’re quite skilled, Captain Jeon,” Jao commented, feet slipping in the dry dirt.
Wonwoo wasted more energy chasing the prince around the ring, the high sun banishing their shadows into nothing and burning the fire from his body hotter. He pressed and pressed until Jao finally stumbled. A glimmer of hope to end the battle before Jao took advantage of his waning energy crumbled as the prince leapt back to his feet and danced around again.
“Quit playing around,” Wonwoo growled.
Jao ducked beneath the stream of fire and rose again. “Might I say, I wasn’t sure until yesterday but watching you smack Maoki around warmed my heart.”
“He’s a prick.” Wonwoo waited this time. No use fighting against someone who only evaded. They circled each other, fists raised in loose form but came to a lull in fighting.
“Unfortunately, he comes from a long line of them.”
Wonwoo couldn’t help it, he laughed.
“You’re an honorable man, Captain Jeon. But being honorable doesn’t mean you’re good enough for YN.”
His hackles raised like a wolf under attack. The smell of lightning came again from Jao’s words. A part of Wonwoo agreed he would never measure up but it wouldn’t stop him from trying. “And you are?”
Jao looked over Wonwoo’s shoulder, where you sat. Your guard protecting you like he was bound to; from any ill fit suitor. “You love her?”
“Do you think I’d sign up for this insane contest if I didn’t?”
Jao side stepped again, driving Wonwoo around to face you before speaking. The change in position wasn’t lost on him as Jao spoke again. “Men do all sorts of ridiculous things for power.”
“Her crown is the least interesting thing about her.”
Jao’s gaze flickered with approval.
“I’m here as a favor to YN. But I believe I’m no longer needed.” Jao knocked away Wonwoo’s unthreatening volleys easily. “It would be a shame if you took advantage of my weak ankle.”
A trap. A fakeout. Wonwoo didn’t let his guard down to take the bait. “What?”
“Horrible injury when I was a child. Broke it in three places, never the same again.” Jao said beneath his breath. “My left ankle, by the way.”
Wonwoo swept the man’s feet out from under him with a flaming kick and sent him sprawling. He launched a series of fireballs as Jao rolled across the ground, careful to ensure each one fell short. Jao lifted a wall of fire to defend himself but it was weak. Wonwoo launched through it and landed squarely on top of Jao, pinning his chest down with his knee. He stopped from crushing the man’s nose when Jao eagerly shouted.
“I yield!”
Wonwoo helped Jao to his feet. They were both filthy though the amount of blood staining Wonwoo’s clothes was considerably less than yesterday. Jao limped next to him as they both returned to the center of the field.
The official lifted Wonwoo’s hand for the cheering crowd. “Second victory: Captain Jeon!”
Jao waved away the healers buzzing like a swarm of bees around them, instead walking side by side with Wonwoo back towards the tunnels.
“I would say don’t hurt her, or else,” Jao smiled. “but we both know she is more than capable of fulfilling the ‘or else’ herself. Next time, don’t burn my shirt. This is one of my favorites.”
“Next time?”
“I intend on a rematch - friendly of course - once you’re the prince. And I won’t go easy on you. Even if your girlfriend scares me.”
“She scares me too.”
“Good luck, Wonwoo.” Jao nodded and left Wonwoo to find the way back to his own rooms by himself.
You healed Wonwoo again but thankfully his injuries from Jao were minimal; superficial burns that stung rather than hurt and singed hair. They were nothing compared to the damage from the previous day but Wonwoo let you coo and fret over him. When you were done he pulled you beneath the covers and nuzzled that space beneath your jaw. He wanted to touch you. Wanted to savor your taste and those delightful noises you made when he did something that pleased you. But he was so very tired.
As you touched him, massaged the knotted muscles of his back free and untangled the hair on his forehead, it soothed some untouchable part of him that ached. Even with the worst of the day, he found something healing in you. He knew you didn’t want to hear him say he loved you. He understood why. How painful to hear the words, knowing they were true, only for him to lose the tournament. But he also knew that even if you didn’t say it, you showed him how much you cared as you cleared away bumps and scrapes from his body, studied him for any lingering pain and healed him until your brow sweated with exhaustion.
He fell asleep as his heart thumped steadily, and in the morning you were gone again.
You hated leaving Wonwoo. He looked so boyish in his sleep; face slack, lips pursed in a pout. But you had to be back in your room by sunrise. So you slipped from beneath him, left a final kiss on his brow, and set for the tunnel before the servants started rising.
Hours later Han and Sami arrived to dress you for the day. Neither mentioned Wonwoo. They chattered between themselves, happy to fill your place in the conversation with their own voices. They didn’t think twice of your silence or the bags under your eyes or how you kept nodding off while they combed your hair and straightened your gown.
A woman in a position such as yours, with the man she loved fighting not only for her hand but his own life, would spend most of the night restless. They were happy to believe that story and not the fact they both knew you had a direct path to Wonwoo’s room and no supervision to put a stop to it.
When the games started again at noon, you were wide awake.
Yesterday’s matches drained you. Wonwoo beat Jao easily but it was Bavruq that gave you concern. The match between him and Char lasted hours. Both men refused to concede even as the arena threatened to crumble around them. Just as one gained advantage, the other regained his footing. It was a battle of wills until the end. Bavruq nearly drowned Char but Char came back with forceful blows of his own, throwing Bavruq high into the air with a gust of wind. The prince landed with a sick thump but managed to roll to his feet and beat Char with a final icy blade into his shoulder.
Bavruq had the best healers in the world managing his wounds each night, Wonwoo had only you and your will. Bavruq had years of training and luck on his side, but Wonwoo was in better shape after his last battle with Jao.
If he got hurt fighting Bavruq then you’d march down onto the field and kill Wonwoo yourself.
They shook hands at the center of the field and then the match was on.
Wonwoo sidestepped each blow, adapting without pause - using your own tricks against Bavruq. He maintained a healthy distance, plenty of room to escape and dodged the ice floes the older man attempted to crush him with. Wonwoo attacked faster and faster, summoning more fire, bigger flames that made the crowned tug on their robes and flee the first few rows of seating.
Their muscles shined under the blazing sun, covered in sweat and blood from hours of fighting. Bavruq looked truly exhausted while Wonwoo collected a few scrapes and a limp from a failed evasion.
And then something changed. The atmosphere crackled with static. The sun reached its peak and with his opponent weakened, Wonwoo struck.
A swift kick launched a huge fireball from his foot, a swell of heat surging across the field with terrifying speed. Then another and another, driving Bavruq back until a final explosion sent him rolling across the arena.
Wonwoo’s hesitation is the only reason Bavruq rose to his feet once again.
You couldn’t hear what they shouted to one another, the pounding blood in your ears deafening. The metal cup on your table covered in frost, contents frozen solid. Their elements clashed with enough force to rattle the arena but you stayed glued to the battle; refusing to blink. You wanted to intervene but if you did, then Bavruq won.
Wonwoo sliced his hand through the air, a razor thin whip of flame bursting forth snapped against Bavruq’s feet. He evaded once more by riding a wave around the edge of the arena. Bavruq had power but Wonwoo had stamina. Eventually, Wonwoo evaporated whatever water was left available, the wooden barrels across the arena completely empty when Bavruq attempted to pull more water from them. The prince was defenseless against the tsunami of flame that crashed down from above.
When it dissipated, Bavruq was left cowering on the ground, hair singed and tan skin tinged pink from the heat. But he was alive when he shouldn’t be and for that he yielded.
The servants cheered first; from the high plazas behind the seats filled with nobles their voices echoed like an endless roar of thunder. Mingyu whistled from behind you, bellowing next to Han and Sami. Even the servants in the garb of other kingdoms shouted and clapped. There are more of them than there are nobles. Guards, including Aiko, punched the air with wide smiles.
You couldn’t hear any of it. You couldn’t breathe.
“I present our Champion, Captain Jeon of the Royal Guard,” your grandmother announced, beaming before she turned to you.
You joined her at the edge of the balcony, shaking hands hidden beneath the long sleeves of your gown. Wonwoo looked up from where he stood, sweaty and bruised but smiling.
“Will you accept this man as your husband?”
You whispered a short prayer to the spirits begging he’d forgive you some day and answered.
“No.”
His smile disappeared completely.
With square shoulders, you addressed the crowd. “I am Princess YN. First in line for the throne of the United Islands, and I will fight Captain Jeon for my own hand.”
Just like when Wonwoo announced his intent to compete, the arena settled into silence and then ruptured into chaos. Nobles, servants, and guards cried indignantly as you tilted your chin in defiance. Wonwoo stood frozen, eyes trained on you.
Your grandmother whisked you away to her private meeting chamber. No servants, no guards. No one. Only her quivering rage and your solid defiance locked away.
“What is the meaning of this?” your grandmother hissed.
“I will not be sold off like livestock to the highest bidder,” you sniffed.
A maid came in with a tea tray but your grandmother shooed them away with a wave and they scurried back through the servant’s entrance with a squeak.
“Is that what you think this is? That man put his life on the line for you, endured the wrath of other kingdoms for the chance to marry you because he loves you. And how do you thank him? By throwing his effort back into his face?”
“Wonwoo proved himself to them, now I must as well. What do I look like if I let them force me into a marriage? I allowed the tournament but I will not allow them to think I’m weak.”
“And if Wonwoo beats you? Did you think of that?”
You scoffed at the idea.
“Do not act so bold!” she chastised. The air in the room rustled with her anger. “He defeated some of the best fighters across the kingdoms. Well, one of them. Jao and Maoki couldn't fight their way out of a pillowcase but Bavruq is a respectable adversary.”
Anger and hurt swelled inside you. This had been your plan since after the stormy night in the garden, when Wonwoo asked you to marry him. You figured out a way to make an example of the suitors and fortify your place as heir apparent. Your grandmother had meddled, stuck her nose where it didn’t belong — albeit with good intentions.
“You made a plan with him without me so I made a plan of my own.”
She threw her hands up and opened the window at the far side of the room. “Is that what this is about? You felt left out?”
“If either of you just told me—”
“If you were implicated then the nobles would have been suspicious. World of good that is now. It looks like you sent Wonwoo into this competition with the intent to have him win and then forfeit.”
You joined her by the window. She had a point. But Wonwoo wouldn’t forfeit, his pride was too strong. And you would win. You’d beaten him at his best in the warehouse but anger hadn’t been on his side then; he’d also have the advantage of the daylight. But even without the boost of the moon you were confident. You had to be.
In the gardens below, families from across the kingdoms gathered, their conversations floating straight up to where you both listened in secret.
A sham!
We’ve been made fools!
If she thinks she can beat him then she’s crazier than we all thought…
“I don’t agree with your methods,” she sighed. “But if you manage to win then it sends a very powerful message. Besides, they’ve never given your bending the respect it deserves. I just hope Wonwoo doesn’t decide to forfeit.”
“He won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I won’t have a coward for a husband.”
You did not visit Wonwoo that night. Perhaps for the best. He practically vibrated with annoyance, vision narrowed into a red haze. He fought, he bled and bruised, for you. Only for you to turn around and reject him so boldly. So publicly. In front of people who already looked down on him.
He didn’t understand; couldn’t. What was the point? To punish him for competing at all?
One of Jao’s healers came and patched him up in silence, Mingyu standing guard. Neither man spoke while Wonwoo fumed silently. The candles littered about the room burned brighter from his mood, flickered widely from an invisible breeze as he tried to reign in his temper.
The healer knitted a final wound, a deep cut on his arm from one of Bavruq’s ice knives sealing and blending with the other pink scars littering his body. Bavruq had been far more capable than Wonwoo’s previous opponents; ran Wonwoo ragged around the arena for hours. His muscles ached. Even breathing left the healed wound in his side from Maoki sore.
A cup full of herbal tonic was pressed into his hand. He drank as the healer explained it would help his energy for the next day. Wonwoo downed the entire thing and the healer left him and Mingyu alone.
“Is she always so…” Wonwoo trailed off. The effects of the drink were already making him feel fuzzy around the edges.
“Confusing? Irritating? Hard headed?” Mingyu responded. “Yes.”
“One minute she tells me she loves me and next she says she doesn’t want to marry me.”
You wanted to marry him. Wonwoo knew you did. Or was he another brainless fool who fell into your web like the others; a pawn in your game to make a point.
“I don’t doubt she loves you but she won’t debase herself for you, or anyone.”
“But then why put me through this entire game?”
Mingyu leaned against the doorway. “I won’t pretend I understand her reasoning. Ever since we were kids she's done things her own way. If she couldn’t win a game, she used the rules against you to make sure winning felt a lot like losing.”
Wonwoo stared at the ceiling. The night sky stared back, hand painted silver constellations covering the entire ceiling from wall to wall. You had pointed out the ones you knew the previous nights. The Dragon, the Chained Spirit, the Warrior, the Lionturtle, the Earthshaker. His head pounded.
“The council sees her as something to be controlled,” Mingyu said. “We know they’re wrong but now she has a chance to show them and the other kingdoms she’s not. It has nothing to do with you.”
Wonwoo huffed and closed his eyes. It was much colder without you beneath the covers which was odd because as a firebender, nothing short of dropping him somewhere in the poles would have affected him. “Why must everything be so difficult?”
“You wanted to marry a queen. It comes with the job.”
Mingyu left after that.
Wonwoo sat in silence and realized he’d still marry you whether you beat him tomorrow or not.
Wonwoo entered the arena feeling simultaneously better and worse than the previous days. His body was well rested, the tonic from Jao’s healer giving him a good night's sleep. Though his new energy might’ve been from falling asleep at a reasonable hour since you were not in his bed asking to be kissed.
You waltzed in, head held high and back perfectly straight; chest bound in blue wrappings, pants the same color. There was no crown on your head or jewels on your fingers. There was no need for finery when every inch of you screamed royalty now that Wonwoo knew what to look for. You looked the exact same as that night in the warehouse, that first encounter that bound his fate to yours. His heart lurched.
You both faced each other in the center of the field, a foot of space between. Fire burned in your gaze. Wonwoo knew beating the others proved his worth to the nobles but this was more than that. This was you proving your ability to lead, proving no one could control you.
This time, you extended your hand first, and Wonwoo shook it.
“Good luck.”
“I won’t go easy on you just because I love you,” he said loud enough for the entire arena to hear. Your jaw dropped in shock. Even though his face heated at the declaration, your reaction made him want to say it again.
“Likewise.”
The official signaled the beginning of the match.
Wonwoo launched a stream of fire where you stood. You dived low, easily avoided it and returned the attack with more force, several massive jagged ice floes aimed straight for his head.
Fire. Water. Fire. Water. Red. Blue. Back and forth across the arena. The ground became a messy pattern of mud and scorch marks. Spectators watched the dance in awe, marveling at the ways your respective elements met and clashed with enough force to deafen them.
“That's all you got?” you goaded. Your clothes smoldered where one of his fire whips made contact, blue stained with ash, your hair singed at the ends.
Wonwoo looked like a drowned ice rat.
He chased you to the far end of the field, sending comet after comet after you but you evaded, skating away on a wave. Reaching a safe distance, you turned the wave against him. Wonwoo failed to clear it in time. Feet frozen in place, you released a torrent down onto him.
Wonwoo laid still on the ground when you finally stopped.
“Wonwoo?” you gasped and ran to him.
When you stood over him, he knocked your feet out from under you and rolled away.
Mud caked your arms and back. “Seriously?”
“I can’t believe you fell for that,” he called.
The fighting picked back up again.
He promised not to go easy on you and he’d keep the promise. Wonwoo knew you wouldn’t forgive him if he broke it. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t help you make a spectacle.
Wonwoo cut your attack off your next attack with a swift lash of fire, a razor thin whip cleaving the wall of ice clean in half.
The smell of ozone clouded the arena electricity jumping from his skin as he pulled it closer and closer. Your face hardened, preparing for the strike as Wonwoo thrusted his hand forward.
In the same confident show as before, you redirected the hit as if it was nothing.
The arena was silent. You and Wonwoo continued like no one was watching.
You pulled all the water in the arena into a massive fifty foot wave. It blocked out the sun and most spectators' view of the field. When you released it Wonwoo opened his mouth and breathed fire. The two unstoppable forces clashed and steam erupted, cloaking the entire battlefield.
You couldn’t master him any more than he could beat you. Even in the thick fog, he wasn’t scared. He heard your wet footsteps run around him somewhere behind and prepared for a snowball to his temple.
When you couldn’t beat them, you apparently fought dirt.
The air rushed from his lungs as you tackled Wonwoo around the waist and into the slick mud.
“Oof,” he grunted.
You were laughing. “Did I hurt you again?”
“No, I’m used to it.”
“Good. I’d hate to injure my fiance before our wedding.”
He froze. And then the same laughter infecting you shook his body. He grabbed a fist full of mud and smashed it into your hair. “You had this planned from the beginning!”
You gave an indignant shriek and pushed your mud hands against his face. “Maybe this will teach you not to make plans with my grandmother without consulting me!”
Wonwoo rolled, you beneath him, thrashing for release but he held fast; pinned your arms down and used all his weight to keep you where he wanted. “Yield.”
Apparently he didn’t have the grip he thought he had because the sweat covering his body froze, stinging against bare skin. You took the moment of distraction to roll back on top, pin his hands and freeze them in the mud.
“Really?” he grunted. He summoned heat into his hands and melted the icy cuffs but waited to make use of his freedom. He forgot all about it when he felt your laughter puff against his mouth.
Wonwoo’s world narrowed down to just you, like every time you pulled him into your tide.
“Yield,” you commanded. Wonwoo heard the smug satisfaction in your tone but also the giddiness.
“Never.”
You swooped down, kissed him once more. “Good.”
A harsh breeze cleared the cover of steam. Alerted by the noise, you sat up straight and Wonwoo tipped his head back, both of your eyes landing on the Queen watching from the overhang.
Wonwoo wanted to bring the steam back and hide away with you. The dumb smile wouldn’t leave his face, even under the weight of an audience.
“Since you both refuse to yield,” she announced dryly. “This match is a draw.”
You knelt across from Wonwoo as the sages recited the martial rights in monotone. The only thing that kept him from nodding off was your fingers tangling and untangling with his, the silver and gold fabric of your wedding robes obscuring the way your nails scratched over his palms. Your hands were cool and dry, his clammy with nerves. Not nerves to marry but nerves to be paraded around the palace for the rest of his life, having to smile at the nobles that insulted him and his wife under their breath.
He’d marry you in every lifetime if he could.
Eventually, the sages finished their speech, snapping Wonwoo back to reality. You eyed him expectantly and leaned closer. Wonwoo knew he must’ve looked like an idiot, staring starry eyed as you kissed him gently and then pulled away to face the sages once more. You held his hand a little tighter.
The sage, clad in his own robes of navy and burgundy, read from a scroll. “Do you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of the United Islands, according to our laws and customs? Will you, in your power, cause law and justice and mercy to be executed in all judgments?”
“I will.”
The sage faced Wonwoo. “And do you swear to uphold and protect Her Most Regal Majesty? To never waiver in support of the crown and people of the United Islands?”
Wonwoo was thankful his lines were short in the ceremony. Between planning the wedding in only a few short days and being all but banned from seeing you between the end of the match in the arena and this morning, he wasn’t left with much mental space to memorize anything grand or impressive.
“I do,” Wonwoo said.
Smoothly, you rose to your feet and Wonwoo rushed to follow, hand clenched so tightly in yours he was afraid it hurt.
“Presenting Her Majesty, YN, Queen of the United Islands. And His Royal Highness, Prince Wonwoo. Long may they reign.”
The marriage hall broke into cheers, his friends’ voices the loudest among them. Hoshi, Dokyeom, Seungcheol and his wife, Jeognhan and many others crowded amongst the pews, brushing elbows with royalty like they belonged.
Once again, he found courage in reminding himself just because he was in the palace didn’t mean he had to completely act like nobility.
Wonwoo grabbed you around the waist, ears deaf to the shocked gasp of onlookers as he pulled you into his chest and kissed you. Not a chaste peck or something gentle and fleeting. He channeled the passion and happiness flooding his heart into it. Wonwoo kissed you like a man kissed his new wife, not like a prince kissed his queen.
You adapted quickly, tongue shy against his lower lip, far too suggestive but Wonwoo bit at the bait. He should've known that if he started the flame you’d fan it into an inferno. Hands surging into action, he pulled you tighter into his chest and slid his tongue against the sensitive side of yours to hear one of your precious moans.
Someone wolf whistled loud enough to remind Wonwoo he was, in fact, on the verge of groping his wife in public. He pulled back but it was you who refused to let go, only conceding when the hand in his hair met the metal of his new crown.
You didn’t even have the shame to blush as you pulled away and faced your subjects, smiling proudly while Wonwoo tried to calm his racing heartbeat.
The reception occurred in the same ballroom as the night of the Spirits Festival but decorated with cascading white ice lilies and fire poppies, the chandeliers dripping with pearls and diamonds, and long banquet tables draped in embroidered tablecloths crowded with food and wine. Wonwoo didn’t like crowds but he loved you and if people were watching him dance with you through every song then let them. He spent too many dances at the edge of the floor tortured by the sight of you in another man’s arms to sit through another one.
“If you step on my foot one more time,” you warned but the threat was empty. You smiled too much.
Wonwoo pulled you even closer if it was possible, no space between your bodies as his hand curled tightly around the curve of your waist. “You’ll do what, Your Majesty?”
“I’ll…” you huffed.
“Terrifying,” Wonwoo chuckled, sweeping you around the room.
“Where did you learn to dance like this anyway?”
Wonwoo recalled the incredibly awkward moments in his temporary accommodations with Mingyu and Sami teaching him the court dances. Han wasn’t invited for obvious reasons, like using the way Wonwoo led the taller man around the room while Sami provided instruction as black mail.
“I’m a man of many talents.”
You didn’t buy it. “Last time we danced together I thought you’d drop me.”
“You don’t trust me?”
You nuzzled his jaw softly, lips leaving a trail until you reached his ear, damp breath sending goosebumps racing down his back. “I trust you with my life.”
It wasn’t a truth he took lightly.
Before Wonwoo could respond, someone crashed into him from behind.
Hoshi and Dokyeom were dancing with each other, nothing but uncoordinated limbs flailing in place as everyone chuckled. Most people laughed, a few stuck up nobles seemed to hate fun. The sidestepped the other couples following the unspoken choreography to stay close to you and Wonwoo.
“Great party,” Dokyeom grinned.
“If I knew you were the queen I would've given you a way nicer bottle of whiskey.”
“I wasn’t the queen when we met,” you laughed.
Wonwoo shook his head at his friends and led you away; he’d see them later. At that moment, he wanted you to himself.
But the spirits had other plans. Every time he thought he had you both alone for a few moments, someone else popped up. They acted like koala sheep flocking to the trough. Attempted to surround you two at every chance. Luckily, you were apt at leading the dance and tugged him away from the most overzealous nobles already attempting to petition for funding and favors. When Wonwoo’s friends approached he didn’t feel guilty cutting the conversation short.
You only successfully spun you away from Belaor’s grumpy face to find Jao waiting for his own turn. His partner was old enough to be the old queen’s grandmother.
“I have a wager there will be an heir within the year,” Jao winked. “Don’t let me down.”
Wonwoo blinked and looked down to find you hiding in his lapel.
“Jao is a very odd man.”
“Yes,” you nodded, “But a wonderful friend.”
Wonwoo managed one song completely uninterrupted, not that he enjoyed it much. He was too focused on eying anyone that came close, nearly snarling when looks didn’t warn them off fast enough.
“This party is dreadfully boring,” you whispered.
“You mean our wedding?”
“Our wedding was hours ago. I mean this party where the same men who beat up my husband a few days ago are drinking my wine and eating my food.”
You gazed pointedly at him and then the door. Oh.
“Are you planning to take revenge?” Wonwoo smirked.
“Maybe.”
“Less than a day as queen and you’re already trying to start a war.”
“Then I guess it’s time to take our leaves for the evening. I wouldn’t want to have an outburst.”
It felt like eternity before you finally untangled from the party and returned to your new apartment. It was bigger than your old rooms, big enough for more than two people with a vacant nursery and Wonwoo’s own private bedroom connected to yours through a door. You doubted he would appreciate the space. He seemed fond of keeping you close.
Han and Sami beamed from ear to ear as they readied you for bed, untied the silk ties of your wedding gown and plucked the heavy jewels out of your hair.
“You might as well speak freely, you both think so loudly.”
Han burst. “Can Wonwoo introduce me to his friend?”
“Which one?”
“The one with nice lips, and muscular thighs. He was dancing with the other loud one.”
Dokyeom. From what Wonwoo told you, Han would eat him alive.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“Everyone knows the way to a man is through his wife.”
You wondered just how your newly minted husband was fairing with his own servants at this moment. Someone undressing and dressing him, catering to his every fleeting desire. He probably was as red as the fire poppies down in the ballroom.
“Wonwoo likes you two,” you said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
“He has so many handsome friends,” Sami sighed.
“You got over your crush on Bavruq quickly.”
She thought for a moment before responding, “There’s something unattractive about a man cowering for his life.”
You didn’t tell her about the match you witnessed between Seungkwan and Hoshi the night you first spoke to Wonwoo when Hoshi got on his knees and begged.
“Are you nervous?” Han asked.
You met her gaze in the mirror. None of today felt real.
“Honestly? It feels like we still have to sneak around the castle.”
“I knew there wasn’t a bird that morning!” Sami gasped, jaw dropping.
Han rolled her eyes. “I already told you there wasn’t a bird in her room.”
“Whatever. Now you’re the queen and can do whatever you want.”
They tidied your dressing room and left you alone. When you re-entered your room you found it empty, the door connecting yours to Wonwoo’s firmly shut. Once you opened it then you two would be alone to do whatever you please. No one waiting around the corner to catch you, no more rumors of impropriety, no more sneaking around in the dark.
Just you and your husband.
You nearly sprinted.
His room resembled yours: massive bed, dark wood furniture, velvet curtains half obscuring the massive window on the opposite wall.
Wonwoo sat on the edge of the bed in sleeping clothes. The candle light jumped over his skin and made something in your chest squeeze. He held something in his lap, you couldn’t see from the angle as his hands fiddled with it.
You rested against the door jam and cleared your throat.
He looked up, black hair flopping into his face. “What’s wrong?”
“You are so far away.”
“I thought I was supposed to stay in here or something.”
“The rooms are more a formality than anything. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.”
“Thank spirits.” Wonwoo heaved a sigh of relief and came to stand in front of you. “I meant to give this to you earlier.”
He passed whatever he held to you. It took a second to figure out what it was but when you did your chest ached again. A glass ice lily shoot with white bell shaped petals so thin you could see through them, frozen in perfect bloom. The verdant green glass stem sat dainty between your fingertips. It was small and delicate, so realistic you could smell the sweet aroma tickling your senses.
“Where did you get this?”
He blushed, eyes on the figure resting in your hands. “I made it.”
“You made this?”
“Mingyu helped a little but… you said it was your favorite.”
It wasn’t much. Nothing like the grand metal works or massive jewels displayed around the palace. The piece of glass work wouldn’t stand out amongst the hundreds of expensive gifts you’d received for birthdays over the years. But Wonwoo made it for you. He took the time to listen and remember even if you didn’t recall ever telling him the information. There wasn’t a value to be assigned because that tiny glass flower was priceless.
You didn’t know what to say.
“Do you want to take a bath with me?”
He nodded mutely, allowing himself to be pulled through your bedroom and into your bathroom where a pool-like tub waited. You turned on the water and poured in soaps and oils until satisfied and then turned back to your waiting husband.
“Will you warm it for me?” you whispered.
He stepped around you, hands ghosting along your sides as he passed. One disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
“Not like that.”
Wonwoo stared at you quizzically. “This is how I heated it last time.”
“Last time.” You approached him slowly as if he was a frightened animal. When he didn’t move away, you untied the sash holding his shirt closed, pushing it from his shoulders. You kissed over his heart and plucked at the tie of his pants. And then Wonwoo was naked; naked and hard and looking like something out of a painting. “Last time you weren’t my husband and I couldn’t pull you into the water to join me like I wanted to.”
“Well, I’d hate to disappoint the queen,” he chuckled and sunk into the water.
The sleeves of your nightgown floated down your shoulders, leaving you completely bare as it pooled around your feet. Wonwoo wanted to look, you saw it on his face; the strain in his eyes to stay at an appropriate level. But he was your husband now. And if he couldn’t look at you naked, who could?
You remained standing until his eyes fell from your face, filtered down to your chest, across your stomach, your core and legs. He drank you with heated looks that made you preen with pleasure. You wanted him to look at you like that forever.
He spread his legs in invitation and you took the space between them. You leaned back into him, thrilled by the press of his bare chest against your back. Like that morning you woke up in your bed with him. Now, you get to wake up to him every day.
An hour passed in cozy silence, only the crack of candle wicks and content sighs mingling together; occasionally a splash as you stretched for more comfort. Wonwoo couldn't stop pressing his mouth to your shoulder, rubbing his hands over your sides, tracing odd shapes in your stomach as the water soothed your tense muscles. It was perfect. He was perfect. Like the warm flicker of the candle light in the night, the toasty comfort of a fire during a cold day. He was perfect and he was yours. Forever.
With Wonwoo in the water, it never got cold. He pushed heat through his body and kept it perfectly warm.
You showed off by making tiny figurines skitter along the surface: horses, dragons. You froze some in mid air and Wonwoo raised a hand to melt them with a lick of flame, placating your petulant frown with a kiss to your ear.
Sneakily, you placed your hand on his knee beneath the surface. It was innocent enough, you were already touching everywhere else. His knee was nothing compared to the soft pressure of his cock against your lower back but you were done waiting. You slowly dragged your nails over his leg, a fraction higher each time before descending again. If he caught on to your game he hadn’t shown it. Instead, Wonwoo leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, sighing in your ear.
He didn’t initiate anything beyond gentle touches. Smoothed his hands down your arms, laced and unlaced his fingers between his, swiped your hair to the side and gently pecked the back of your neck.
You left his lap, swimming into the deeper end of the tub and submerging yourself beneath the surface. When you came back up for air, Wonwoo sat sprawled against the side of the tub, arms out at either side, washcloth clutched tightly in one hand.
Straddling his thighs, you dipped down for a kiss. “Wash me.”
He took his task seriously, scrubbing away all the powdery makeup and oil perfume until your skin felt fresh and clean. The rough washcloth stung your breasts but Wonwoo soothed the ache with his tongue, lapping away the bath water as your chin tipped back.
“You looked beautiful.”
Your shoulders itched closer to your ears as he sucked your nipple stiff. “I know. You told me.”
“Never hurts to tell you again.”
You opened your mouth to goad him again but he beat you to the punch with a kiss on your sternum.
His cock grazed over your clit with each grind. You wanted it, wanted him; all of him. You didn’t care you were in a bathtub or that you didn’t really know much more beyond wanting inside you. You rose higher on your knees, titled your hips and…
“Slow down,” Wonwoo warned, teeth firmly around your breast. He held himself in a tight grip, just below the tip and prevented you from taking any of him inside you.
“But—“
“Let me take care of you first.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” you whined. “I need you inside me.”
Hands squeezed your hips, halting any attempt to take him further. He flipped your positions, him standing in the deeper end of the bath, you pressed into the wall completely at his mercy.
“Wonwoo!” you protested, water splashing as you thrashed against him in a tantrum.
“Be patient.”
You snaked a hand around his cock beneath the water and gave a quick stroke. You remembered the noises he made last time, how he liked to be touched. If you pulled the right strings then maybe he’d let you feel all of him. If you got your mouth on him he’d crumble to whatever you wanted.
But he snatched your hand away and tangled your fingers through his. When you looked at his face he was already watching you with a half formed smile. The sight alone was enough to make your stomach flip.
You pulled a ball of water and dropped it over his head.
“You’re gonna pay for that!”
“Oh, I’m soooo scared,” you cackled.
He chased you around the tub, just a little too late to catch you. Screams and giggles and splashes echoed off the walls. When he finally managed to pin you to his chest, an ember in your own flared.
“Take me to bed.”
It was tricky moving from the bath to the bedroom. You were so consumed with groping him - his ass, his chest, his cock - that preventing an accidental tumble fell entirely on Wonwoo. Unfortunately, he needed to touch you as well. He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you and guiding you towards the door without looking.
He sandwiched you between his body and the door jam, the bed only feet away but too far. Fingertips glided over your damp skin as Wonwoo smoothed his hands down your sides and caressed your hips, his thigh wedging between your own for you to clench and grind against. His hands traced up and down your sides, driving you more mad with every pass. Wonwoo squeezed your breast, thumbs rolling your nipples until they were stiff enough to bend and latch his mouth on.
You’d never tire of the contrast of his fingers against your skin, the sight of how your own breasts perfectly fit his hands, the feel of him touching you like he was made to.
You melted beneath his tongue, hands sinking in his wet hard and tugging with each gentle suckle. Arousal smeared between your thighs and you want him to touch you there too. His fingers or his mouth, you were wound so tight you didn’t care, anything to relieve the stifling heat in your blood. You’re wetter, han you could possibly need to be and yet he still wouldn’t take advantage of it just yet.
“Take me to bed,” you panted again, failing to instill the authoritative tone that came as second nature.
Apparently, it was enough for Wonwoo. He finally pulled you from the wall with that, tripping over his own with eager clumsiness. You followed in his wake, knees meeting the edge of the bed and pulling him down on top of you.
This much you’ve grown accustomed to; touching, caressing, stroking. A week ago you would’ve begged for the chance to have Wonwoo naked and so close. Insides coiled with a spark desperate to smolder into something greater but now, the more he touched you the less confident you felt. He knew what to do and you didn’t and it shouldn’t have ground against your already thin nerves but it did; for a split second you resented him.
Wonwoo picked up on your mood immediately. He raised up, hair tangled, cheeks stained and lips bruised from kissing. He looked like a dream. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You shook your head, trying to pull him into another kiss to distract from the moment but he avoided it.
“Not nothing. Tell me.”
“I said I’m fine,” you bit.
You weren’t. And it wasn’t because Wonwoo had been with others that predated your knowledge of his existence.
He moved further away, sat upright next to you on the bed with his hands firmly in his lap despite how much you did not like it.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“If you want me to go into my room and stay there the rest of the night I will. I’ll be pretty upset not spending the night with my wife but I’ll do it.”
Your head shook. “No, I don’t want that.”
“Then tell me what happened between now and the bath.”
“I…I just…” you made a frustrated noise. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Me either.”
You looked at the ceiling before grumbling, “Yes, you have.”
He had. You weren’t naive to what others experienced while you sat guarded away in the palace. The maids had sex, the other guards, the men you met from other kingdoms. It was you who was the odd one out. Thrusted into the deep in, swearing you could swim and now that you were here you floundered.
Wonwoo kept you afloat.
He grabbed your hand, traced circles on your palm with his thumb as he spoke. “I’ve never had a wedding night, I’ve never been married, I’ve never been with someone I feel the way I do about you. I know it’s your first time but it’s my first time with you.”
“But you at least know what you’re doing. I have no idea.”
“‘Wow, Wonwoo. That’s so romantic, Wonwoo,’” he cooed in a poor imitation of your voice.
You huff an amused breath, forehead dropping to his shoulder.
“I– I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
The admission lifted a weight from your chest. You burrowed closer to your husband, suddenly aware of how naked you were.
“Do what feels good.”
“It all feels good.”
You didn’t have to look to know he’s pleased with that comment.
“Lay back and let me make you feel good. Then you can boss me around.”
You pull back from hiding, scoffing in protest. “I don’t boss you around!”
“Do too.”
“Do not!”
Wonwoo didn’t answer, too busy smiling into a kiss at your childish pout. His laughter sparked some of your own as you realized how ridiculous the entire thing was.
True to his word, he took the time to sink to his knees beside the bed, shoulders cloaked in your legs, face level with your center. He indulged you with sweet flutters of his mouth across your thighs then lower, over your entrance with teasing gentleness. Only when you’re close to pulling your hair out did his tongue part your folds to collect the wetness he coxed so easily without even really touching you.
You shivered from the combination of his tongue snaking across your clit and the first shallow thrust of a finger between your walls.
“M-more,” you rasped.
One arm slung across your stomach, preventing you from bucking him off. He turned his head and sunk his teeth into the meat of your thigh until a bruise formed.
Even if you felt out of your mind you were in good hands. Wonwoo would take care of it. He'd show you what to do, take your first time and make it something at the very least good. Even if it’s just you two putting your mouths on each other's sex until the sun rose.
The idea of having him back in your mouth sent a zing through your gut.
“Wonwoo?” you sighed.
He hummed into your clit, simple acknowledgment clenching your muscles tight from the vibration.
“I want…” you started but faltered under the stretch of another finger and a sloppy glide of his tongue.
He circled the swollen nub, groaning the way you squeezed his fingers so tight. He doesn’t stop. Not until your thighs snapped shut around his head, hips buck into his waiting mouth. You coiled around the sparks in your veins and let it rush up to greet you. He licks every single nerve to life until you nearly rip your own hair out.
The candle flames jumped a little higher with every pitiful noise, the vulgar sound of his mouth worshipping your core. Wonwoo knew what he was doing when he gave you a third finger. More sloppy kisses to match. “Spirits—” you choke on a whimper.
You clawed at whatever came in reach: his shoulders, his arms flex over your hips, the back of his head. He kept going; heavy licks of his tongue dragging you over the coals until a tidal wave washed that final break through your blood.
Wonwoo crawled over you, planted himself between your spread legs and waited. “Good?”
“Great,” you croaked, delirious.
When you finally opened your eyes, you nearly seized again. His face was wet; chin, cheeks, lips covered in your arousal he rightfully earned. You fumbled for his face, bringing him back into a kiss. His cock laid flush against your center with a little more movement; a sensation you’ve rapidly grown accustomed to except now there’s nothing to stop you from having all of him.
The itch to parade him around the palace like that, completely debauched and on display, tickled the back of your skull. Wonwoo would never agree but the idea of rubbing all those nobles’ noses in proof that you don’t care what they have to say about your husband sparked something in your gut; tightened the nerves in your neck like a hand would and maybe that’s something else Wonwoo can show you later.
Right now you wanted him in your mouth.
Wonwoo went where you directed, leaned back on his elbows in the pillows, body splayed across the sheets like a meal. His nudity only made you more aware of your own. The blushing tip of his cock shining in the light. It was a little different now than when you believed you’d only get one chance to touch him as bold and free as you wanted. But you took the challenge head on like everything else.
If you messed up, Wonwoo was there to show you the way.
“Show me,” you commanded, cheeks flaming from nerves. “Show me how you like to…”
Wonwoo sat up and grabbed you, arms tangled between your bodies with your head on his shoulder.
“Hey!”
This time, he commanded you. “Watch.”
You do, eyes glued to the hand skimming down his belly, fingers traveling across the flat plane of his stomach, over his thighs. He teased himself as you gawked tongue tied. You stayed quiet as he gripped his cock and gave it a squeeze.
“Can I…”
His hand shone in the dim light, wet, and not from the sticky mess leaking from his cock. It’s the same hand he used to make you come, your arousal easing the friction of his thrusts. Your hand sunk down, fingers woven between his.
“You wanted to watch. Now, watch,” he hissed but made no move to swat you away.
He shaped nicely in your hand, really his hand but you focused on the contrast of your fingers between his. Wonwoo told you to watch but didn’t make any mention of refusing any of your own demands. You swallowed, thighs rubbing together for some relief.
The sensitive side of his neck became your newest victim, teeth scraping against the raised vein; a pretty bite mark evidence of your presence.
“Fuck,” he grunted.
Even with only one experience, you’re confident as you shimmied down his body and kneeled at his side. His stomach caved with a few tentative licks, as you stroked him. Eventually his hand fell away and found new interest in tracing your spine. His fingers itched down your back, over the curve of your ass. You spread your legs a little wider, give him more room to touch you the way you both want.
You moaned around his cock as he fingered you again, a little firm, not as hesitant. You tasted and teased and catalogued every tiny grunt and curse to memory. When your jaw started to hurt your hand took over with a slick glide.
“Fuck, okay.” Wonwoo pulled you back up, rolled until you splayed beneath him.
You frowned. “I wasn’t done.”
“I almost was,” he sighed.
His fingers were still buried inside you, a fact he reminded you of with a quick rush. You tingled from head to toe.
“Move your hand.”
The idea thrilled the life out of you; finally having him inside you where you knew he’d fit perfectly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. You’re not gonna break me.”
“There’s a chance you’ll…” he trailed off. “If I finish inside you.”
“Wonwoo. I know how babies are made,” you snorted. “I took care of it.”
“Oh.”
You didn’t not want children with him. But at that very moment, the idea of learning to be a queen and a wife and a mother felt overwhelming. You wanted to enjoy your husband; and spirits knew there wouldn’t be much time for that with the full demands of running a kingdom on the horizon. After your honeymoon, you’d be lucky to have the energy to maintain a conversation with Wonwoo before bed.
You deflated, eyes closing. “I just… There are already hundreds of people sticking their noses into our marriage. I wanted to have you to myself. At least for a little while. But I want that. Eventually.”
“Me too.”
You melted right there, laid back down on the sheets and dragged him over you. Wonwoo molded to your shape, kissed you gently and pressed his crotch to yours, let you both soak in the heady contact for a moment before the head of his cock nestled at your entrance, and then he was inside you.
It didn't hurt. But it certainly didn't feel good.
“Ah–” you squeaked, thighs protesting in discomfort.
“I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Wonwoo repeated it like a mantra, slowly retreating before pressing forward again. You’re stiff and awkward in the worst ways. It’ll pass. The unfamiliar stretch and stunted motions couldn’t last forever.
The worst of the discomfort faded, your hesitation leaving with it as your insides adjusted to his presence. You spread a little more, lifted your legs around his waist, and gave him leverage against your clit. Better.
“Slower.”
Maybe you did enjoy bossing him around but Wonwoo listened.
Another slower thrust knocked the stretch from better to great. Something about Wonwoo on top of you, inside you, suddenly the hottest thing in the universe.
It felt new. More. Better. It was for the best that you never felt something as satisfying as him inside because if Wonwoo had you that morning in your room then the way things had to be done - him earning his place next to you and you earning yours on the throne - would’ve become completely ignorable; a blip on your consciousness. You’d lock him in away forever just to keep him in your bed, shun the world outside for a better one between the silken sheets with him.
“Wow.”
“Good?”
“So full,” you whispered in a daze. Your eyes rolled as he pulled your legs up a little higher, changing the angle and eliciting a real moan. “Wonwoo, please. Move.”
It’s a sad cadence at first. Your body protested the sudden intrusion again and again, but it felt good as the initial discomfort faded. Patience was never a strong suit but there was no other option. Each rut forward brought you closer to that heady glow you’ve associated with Wonwoo’s touch. Your nails left pink lines in their wake across his skin.
Your breath ripped raw in your throat with a new kind of contact, deeper. Harder. Wonwoo sucked the moan straight from the source, honing in on the enticing friction again and again.
“Touch yourself. Like this.” Wonwoo clumsily shoved your hand between your thighs, rubbed quick tight circles that made you tingly.
“Oh Wonwoo – yes, yes!” you keened. You thrashed against the bed as he latched on to your breast. Too much. Everything was too much and not enough and you couldn’t vocalize what you needed.
He spread your legs, tilted his hips to fuck you deeper; cock heavy in your walls. Wonwoo rolled his hips in smooth thrusts. A hand looped beneath the arch of your back, his other arm protecting your head from the head board.
“Please,” you pleaded. Wonwoo heard but there’s nothing for him to do except emphasize his presence in between your walls and give you that final nudge over the cliff edge.
Wonwoo gasped, hips stammering into clumsier rhythm as you came around him with a kicking of your legs. Your vision went white for a second as your throat burned from the rough sound of his name.
“I think ‘m…I’m—” he came in a choked breath. You took all of it greedily, ground down on him for more of the indescribable warmth flooding your insides until your hips protested. “Shit. O–oh fuck.”
You felt his lips move against your temple, curving around the syllables of your name as he rocked into you a few more times. You felt raw and sensitive but you took it; not ready for him to pull away just yet.
Cum leaked out of you, slipped down your ass and pooled in the bed sheets. Wonwoo rocked into you few more times without the same strain as before. Each subtle press spread more of his mess. You didn’t mind.
“Was that,” he panted, “up to your standard, Your Majesty?”
“When I can think again, I’m going to freeze you to the headboard.”
He lit up with pride, rubbed his cheek against yours while you both calmed down.
When he finally pulled away you whined. Empty. Horribly empty where he fit so perfectly. You don’t have the energy to demand he fix it, you don’t have the energy to do much at all.
Soreness already filtered into your lower body; back, hips, thighs all ached from being twisted in half beneath your husband for however long. Wonwoo rolled you onto your front, pushed your arms and legs from beneath you until your chest lay flat against the bed. The soft sheets soothed your sensitive nipples while Wonwoo’s hands warmed your back.
Your body responded to his proximity, aroused even through the heavy swirl of exhaustion. Wonwoo ignored the squeeze of your thighs. His hands firm, he moved from your shoulders to your lower back precise fingers untangling deep knots as your thoughts drifted into perfect nothing.
“Good?”
You nodded dumbly.
He reached your ass, large hands palming the soft flesh. You tried not to give it; to let him touch you with innocent curiosity. Wonwoo was anything but as he dragged his teeth over the curve of your ass and made you shiver.
His thumb brushed your entrance, barely dipped inside. “Sensitive?”
You shuddered and nodded again, more aware. There’s a weird satisfaction to the used and stretched feeling, the fact Wonwoo did it to you. That he might do it again.
“Want me to stop?” He asked. This time he dipped two fingers inside and crooked them softly.
“No.” Never.
“Good girl.”
Your lungs seized at the praise, wavering slightly. He pulled away, dragged his fingers through the mess on your inner thigh and sheather them back inside you. On reflex, your legs spread wider to accommodate.
A million thoughts floated through Wonwoo’s brain, none seemed to stick for very long as he focused on you.
How many nights had you healed him in the dark? Erased every injury you could find and soothe away the ache of his muscles? But no one stopped to take care of you. He would now though.
More heat flooded into his hands as he continued to knead your inner thighs, focusing on the sore muscles. You melted like wax beneath a flame. All he meant was an innocent massage but the smear of his cum and your arousal mesmerized him as he rubbed it into your skin. It felt right; the mess covering your most sensitive areas looked like it belonged there. He tried not to overwhelm you with all the horribly inappropriate things he wanted, mainly to feel you come for him again while he forced his cum deeper into you.
Wonwoo watched as more of it leaked out of your used hole. He collected it on the pads of his fingers and pressed it back where it belonged but each time he did, your inner muscles clenched and pushed it right back out. He knew you wouldn’t get pregnant. He knew that no matter how much of himself he gave you, it wouldn’t take. Not tonight. Not for a long time while you both enjoyed just each other for the first time. But he’d never had sex with the intention of getting his partner pregnant and now that he technically was supposed to, he couldn’t think of anything else.
You with a swollen belly, still bossing the entire kingdom around. Pregnant and radiant as you knocked someone councilman into place. An instinctual part of him roared to life at the fantasy. The nobles would know. Everyone would know the child you carried was his; that Wonwoo was yours and you were his.
But that was for later. At that moment, you rocked back into his hand like you’d die if he didn’t feel you. He rose on his knees behind you, pulled you up on your own but kept your front tight against the sheets as he bent at the waist and nipped your shoulder.
“Want you,” you whimpered.
His cock was still sticky with combined arousal and cum but hard as he ran the tip through your folds.“Like this?”
With your face buried in your arms you nodded, pressed back into his cock and took the first inch with a sigh of relief.
“Gonna be deep.”
“I want it deep.”
Like anything you want, he gave it to you.
You pulsed around him. His eyes threatened to roll back but he kept them open, watching you take every inch with rapt attention before pulling back and starting again. The room swelled with heat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. dirty. The queen on her knees for her husband, begging him in choked breathes to fuck her hard and deep.
“F-fuck.”
Even if he couldn’t see the way you stretched around his cock to accommodate, he could hear the wet slaps of his thighs against your ass, feel the contact of your body against his, the perfect curve of your hips in his hands.
“Okay?”
“So…full…” you heaved. “More.”
He needed you closer; needed to feel you on every part of him. He hinged at the hips, chest hot against your back, teeth at your neck. You’ll come again, Wonwoo made sure of it. He doesn’t have enough energy to fuck with the vigor the sight of you on your hands and knees incites.
“So fucking good,” he moaned in your ear, fingers maneuvering to pet your clit with enough pressure to make you keen. Another night, when he isn’t fighting just to stay awake long enough to satisfy you both, he’ll dig into your praise kink.
You’re both exhausted, clinging on to wakefulness with white knuckled grips because it’s your wedding night and the first time Wonwoo didn’t have to think about all the things he wanted to do to you. He could just do them.
“Harder,” you whispered greedily.
There was a moment's hesitation but he trusted you to tell him exactly what you needed. Wonwoo anchored himself with a grip on the headboard, fucking your next command into a shrill moan; so much force you both scrambled for some leverage but refused to stop. A few rough swipes of his hand and you come with breathy gasps like you’re drowning.
Wonwoo chased his own orgasm, spurred by the image of your pussy flooded with even more of his cum. It’s the most painful orgasm of his life, pulses hot and tight in the pit of his stomach like a gut punch. He faltered into a stunted rhythm while you clawed at the sheets.
You took it perfectly.
You collapsed against the bed, Wonwoo following to hold you tight to his side. This time the dead weight consumed him completely, trapping you in a tangle of his arms. There is much he could do but rest his lips against your damp hair and enjoy the silence.
“I love you.” The admission was more breath than words but his heart clenched all the same.
“Love you too.”
“How does it feel to defile the queen?” You laughed without real bite.
“Gimme a few hours. I’ll do it again.”
Your only response was a hum and a kiss on his chest.
In the early hours of the morning, when the sky shifted from black to pale grey to orange, you woke Wonwoo with wandering hands followed by drowsy kisses. He didn’t stop you as you mounted his thighs and slipped his half hard length inside you.
“Good morning.” Your rough voice was hushed.
Most of his brain remained dedicated to sleep as you rocked over his lap but that didn’t mean he couldn’t savor the silky wet heat around him so early, the gentle squeeze of your cunt as you ground lazily against him, cooing sleepy noises in his ear.
“Seems like it.”
After you both finished, he dragged you from the bed into the bath, heated the water with his own body. You washed him, and he watched through wet eyelashes as you healed the red streaks of your nails from the night before. At some point he fell asleep. When he wakes, you’re tracing shapes against his chest.
It still didn’t feel real. Everytime he woke it felt like you’d dissolve, this entire ordeal some wild dream only possible in his head when he slept. But no. You were real. You were real and there with a sleepy smile and half closed eyes as he nuzzled your cheek. His wife. His queen. His love.
“What are your plans today?” He asked, kissing your cheek while waiting for a response.
“I’m supposed to attend a council meeting this afternoon.”
Barely a full day after your wedding and there was work to do. Wonwoo dreaded when his duties as prince started.
“Is it important?”
Your fingers, pruned from so long in the water, stroked his neck. “Depends what you’re offering.”
“There’s a shop in the Middle District with really good waffles…”
“I like waffles.” You yawned against his throat, nuzzling further into the warmth there. “If we go now we can make it through the Noble’s Quarter before everyone wakes up.”
“How do you plan to get back?”
“It’s our honeymoon. We can worry about that later.”
You never made it to the Middle District. You and Wonwoo barely made it to the bed before your limbs tangled together and you both fell asleep.
The next time Wonwoo woke you up it was to eat the waffles he asked Han to bring from the kitchen.
Four and a half years later…
The afternoon sun warmed your face, the breeze pleasant and floral. A cold winter finally broke into a pleasant spring, the gardens full of sounds; birds, cicada frogs, palace guests.
You soaked it all in with your eyes closed.
Wonwoo continued to read, hand resting on your stomach, thumb rubbing soothing circles. “The rabbit hopped further into the forest until he came to an open space. There was a woman busy picking lettuce. She put everything she picked into her apron. She looked up and saw the rabbit with his basket.”
“I don’t think it can hear you,” you smile.
He took one of your hands and nipped at your fingers. “Nesa’s favorite story is the frog one I read all the time when you were pregnant with her.”
“I think that has more to do with the fact you and Mingyu taught her how to catch frogs the second she could leave the nursery.”
“Because she loves frogs.”
“Whatever you say dear.”
Wonwoo opened the book back to his page and started reading again. He didn’t get far before Sami chased your daughter through the gardens as she raced to you and Wonwoo.
“Papa! Papa!”
Even though she called for her father, Nesa buried her face in the skirt of your dress. You bent to kiss her hair; overly difficult given the baby growing inside you and its habit of crushing your bladder and lungs simultaneously. Nesa jumped into Wonwoo’s lap once you let her go.
“Why do you smell like smoke?” he asked.
Sami swallowed. “The princess set the bushes on fire.”
You and Wonwoo froze. “She did what?”
“She was playing with the gardener's son and…set it on fire.”
“She set it on fire?”
“Yes.”
Nesa tugged at your sleeve. “Can I go play with Jun now?”
Wonwoo looked positively thrilled. Spirits help you.
“Yes, but no more fires.”
“But—“ she argued. She looked so much like her father.
“No buts,” Wonwoo warned. She listened to him better than you anyway. “Not until Papa teaches you how to control it.”
“Fine,” Nesa huffed, squirming out of his hold and took off towards the archway, Sami on her trail.
“We’ve raised an arsonist.”
“She got your temper,” Wonwoo jabbed, dropping a kiss to your cheekbone.
“I’ll show you a temper!”
He snickered into your hair, turning you to face him for a quick peck. “You’re six months pregnant.”
“And I can still freeze you to a wall,” you sniffed. It was difficult to be mad with how doting he was, fatherhood fitting him perfectly.
“She’s gonna set her nursery on fire the next time we try to feed her peas.”
“She’ll probably set it on fire for fun just like her father.”
The turtle ducks splashed in the pond a few feet away.
“Your grandmother told me about how you threw Mingyu in the pond when you were little.”
“First of all, Mingyu deserved it.” You snagged a cookie from the tray. “Someone else might end up in the pond if he keeps bothering me.”
You’d take revenge later, in the privacy of your shared room. He looked better in icy cuffs than he did completely naked.
“I wonder where Nesa got her temper from,” Wonwoo pretended to ponder. His hand still hadn’t left your swollen belly.
“Shut up, hothead. Finish the story.”
“As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Iya’s favorite animal turned out to be rabbits. Wonwoo took his win without an ounce of humbleness.
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