Blow By Blow | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw X Reader Au

no but also this POV… yeah

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It had to be done...

He is everything to me. Everyone says: "thank you Amy"

amydorkingphotography

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i wanna thank damon for letting jure be sexy, he doesn't get that opportunity enough

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Yup

wayfaring stranger | 0.2 | rhett abbott x reader

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synopsis: betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

warnings: 18+, minors dni. Will be smut, violence and swearing. No warnings for this particular chapter other than Rhett smokes. Enemies to lovers in a very loose sense.

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Your bedroom faces the bunkhouse. With the corner room, one of your windows faces the miles of acres to the west and the other faces down the hill towards the driveway, with a perfect view of the bunkhouse. An even better view if you pull down the loft hatch and climb up to look through the window up there.

This does mean, however, when you choose to sleep with your window open, they all wake you up at ungodly hours of the morning. It’s late April now, and the temperature is in the high fifties. Warm for April, still not that warm. You wake up with a chill, having forgotten to close the window last night before bed.

With a soft groan of complaint, you roll onto your side and pull the covers closer around you. You peek one eye open and it’s still dark. They might be all the way down the hill, but those deep voices carry just fine through the night air. The manual alarm clock beside your bed tells you that it’s just after four.

Another groan of complaint and this time you push yourself up, immediately hit with frigid air after being wrapped up warm under the duvet. You walk quickly over to the window and pull it shut, catching a quick glimpse down the hill at the cowboys as they ready themselves for their day of work.

It’s been a week since the rude cowboy with the long hair turned up and decided to test how far he could push you. You haven’t spoken to him since and your mother gave you a huge lecture for smacking his cigarette from his hand. It wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve — you could have hit his face.

He seems to be fitting in well enough, he’s at the bottom of the hill now, perched on a brown horse and leaning down to talk to Duke. Your father seems to like him, he came back up last night chatting away about how ‘that kid from Wyoming’s not half bad’ — and in Bud Hawthorne speak, that means Rhett must be pretty damn great.

You pull the curtains the rest of the way shut and return back to your bed.

When Lena had said she had sent a guy your way, you had at least expected her to have sent a nice one. Lena doesn’t date nice boys, though, so you figure that that makes sense.

She had gone to the same high school you had, but she was two years older. You hadn’t talked back then. You had been warned to stay away from girls like Lena. Too much eye make up, skirts too short. People around town had plenty to say about her. And the male company that she keeps.

Dottie had said that this would happen. She had said that there was plenty of work for you to do around the ranch and that there’s absolutely no reason that you would need to get a job in town, especially not at that dingy little diner where the bad girls work.

But, you’re like your father — your mind was made up and that was the first place that would hire you. Lena had trained you when you had first started a few months ago, the two of you had grown pretty close since then.

Dottie has noticed the change in you and she doesn’t like it one bit. Talking back, picking up extra shifts whenever you feel like it, skipping dinner on account of this new job.

She remembers what it was like being a young woman and she knows how easy it is to be led astray. The further you are from her watchful eye and the closer you are to that wicked girl, the easier that’ll be.

Your alarm rings out at a little after eight. You wake with a couple of different sounds of discontentment, slapping your hand around the bedside table until it hits the top of the clock and silences that awful sound.

Sunlight peeking through the curtains, you can hear your mother vacuuming downstairs already. You sigh softly and push yourself upright. It takes a couple of minutes for you to gain the motivation to finally leave your comfy, plush white sheets and head for the bathroom.

Your sister is already awake and singing in her room down the hallway. Scarlett is younger than you, she just turned fifteen a while ago. You pass by her room silently. There just isn’t as much in common between the two of you as there used to be.

Since your parents took the lock off of your door last month, the bathroom is the only true privacy left in the house. The mechanism clicks under your fingers and you’re alone.

The shower streams to your left, you let it warm up whilst you brush your teeth. You slip out of the house whilst your mother is still vacuuming, heading down the hill with your bag slung over your shoulder.

Your truck is too shitty to be up by the house now, the rumble of the engine wakes your mother up, so it stays parked down by the bunk house.

“Hey, Duke!” You call down to the aging cowboy, the tread on your sneakers struggling to keep up with the incline on the dirt path down to the driveway.

Busy watching a horse buck around the pen, he turns his head and smiles when he spots you, even if you did interrupt his conversation with Rhett.

“Morning, sunshine.” Duke smiles at you.

“Would you mind taking a look at my truck later? — it’s making that weird noise again.” You call over to him, swinging your keys around your index finger as you walk over to the old rust bucket that’s been keeping Rhett up at night. It’s exhaust is shot and so you can hear it coming from a mile away.

He looks you up and down in your waitressing uniform. Your eyes are on him when he finally gets to your face. His lips quirk at the edges. He raises his hand and waves his fingers at you tauntingly.

You scowl, rolling your eyes as Duke calls back a good-natured agreement, pulling yourself up into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, new guy, do you like having a right hand?” Chuck, a man rather aptly named, asks from Rhett’s left. Rhett turns his head and raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for the second part of the joke. “If you do, I’d stop waving it at Mr. Hawthorne’s kid.”

Rhett chuckles and shakes his head, “I’m just messin’ with her.”

Duke and Chuck exchange knowing looks. Rhett continues on, making it a mental note that making jokes about Mr. Hawthorne’s daughter is apparently off limits.

“That was flirting. He was flirting with you.” Lena scoffs as she flips through the pages of her magazine. She chuckles off-handedly and shakes her head. This is all so simple to her.

You swallow, twirling the straw through your Diet Coke, knocking the ice cubes into the side of the glass. Watching the ice cubes bump into each other until you can actually see them getting smaller, you consider what she has just said.

Lena doesn’t seem to notice how long you’ve been quiet, chewing her gum at your side, pursing her lips and exhaling to form a blue bubblegum bubble between her lips. It pops at your side and brings you back to this reality.

“Are you sure?” You lean down, resting your forearms on the counter as you sip from the straw.

Lena chuckles again. “Yes!”

You swallow the fizzy liquid and pout your lips slightly in consideration, turning your gaze towards the polished, Hollywood couple kissing on the page of her magazine.

“So, what was I supposed to say?” Sometimes, you like to pretend that you’re more experienced around Lena than you really are. There’s only a small age difference between the two of you but in terms of experience, there might as well be years.

When you had first started working here and she had been telling you about everything — all of the boyfriends, the midnight makeouts, the steaming up the windows of old trucks, that one married man that you still struggle to look in the eye in church now — it had been daunting.

So, you had told a little white lie. “Sure, of course I’ve had sex before.”

Just a boy from church. She didn’t ask much about it, and she had seemed to believe you. Sometimes you worry that you’re getting close to being uncovered, that she’ll know you’re lying, but in times like this — you could just do with the advice.

“So, when he said ‘you’ll do it for me, won’t you?’ — you should’ve said ‘if you make me’.”

She says it so nonchalantly. You scrunch your nose slightly as you look over at your relatively new, and informed best friend. You had only met him right then… no way does she say that kind of thing to strangers.

Plus, you didn’t want him to make you throw away his trash for him — that’s ridiculous. Who would want that? It makes no sense to you. Still, you nod knowingly and hum, returning to your Diet Coke.

“Hey, you want to go out this Saturday?” Lena suggests, turning her attention towards you finally. She smacks the blue gum between her lips again.

You snort at the idea, “Like to a bar? — Fat chance, my parents are barely okay with me coming here.”

She raises her eyebrows disapprovingly at you, then scoffs, turning back to her magazine. “Y’know, most people stop letting their parents give them a curfew when they turn eighteen.”

Pressing your tongue into your cheek, you glance down at the glass in front of you. Easy for her to say, she’s been going to rodeos with guys she barely knows since she was in high school. It’s harder when your parents are the way that they are.

“Hey, sugar — any chance of me getting a refill on this, or what?”

You both look up in unison while he taps a dirty nail against his coffee cup. It’s not clear which one of you exactly the trucker in the far booth, with sweat stains on his white t-shirt and his belt unbuckled after his lunch, is talking to, but Lena answers.

“You’ve got a better chance of getting a refill if you stop calling me sugar, slimeball.” Lena answers. Your lips quirk slightly as the man’s smug little smile drops right off of his face. You love it when she does that.

It makes you feel powerful even when you’re not the one saying it. This time last year, you wouldn’t have dared speak to anyone like that, much less a man that was older than you. That was a level of disrespect that your mother never would’ve tolerated.

Speaking like Lena does is fun. Dropping curse words here and there, knocking that sleazy looking smile off of a man’s face without ever even touching him, it makes you feel big. Being Lena’s friend feels good.

It’s just hard to switch that off when you get back home, which is what at least ninety percent of your arguments with your mother have been about since you started here. “I don’t like that attitude, young lady.”, “don’t you dare talk back to me like that, girl.”

Things of that nature.

“Could I get a refill, please?” The man tries again. You smile softly, grabbing the coffee pot and walking politely over to him. You pour his cup, noticing the way his head bows in shame.

Rhett hears you before he sees you. The shitty truck that keeps knocking into stuff late at night pulls up the driveway so fast that he has to take a couple of steps back. His boots skid on the gravel as the truck screeches to a stop.

You turn the engine off and hop down from the truck. The look on your face tells him that that wasn’t an unusual arrival. His brows scrunch disapprovingly as he wonders what kind of idiot gave you your license.

He takes a second to look over your uniform, quirking an eyebrow as you unroll the skirt. It gains about three inches in length once you’re done, falling down just past your knees.

You look up, swinging the truck door shut behind you and meeting his gaze. You smooth out the skirt and smile sheepishly.

“Guessing that your Dad doesn’t stop by your work too often, does he?” Rhett teases, cigarette wobbling between his lips as he leans up against the smoking sign. He’s wearing a baseball cap today, it suits him more than the cowboy hat. You like it.

In fact, there’s nothing you don’t like about what he’s wearing. Sensible boots, faded pair of blue wranglers and a blue button up shirt. He’s handsome when you’re not mad at him.

“Sometimes he does.” You reply, hoping that if you convince him that your father already knows then he won’t snitch on you for shortening the skirt.

Rhett inhales and let’s the cigarette hang at his side, tapping some of the ash onto the floor. “Cute get up, kid.” He expects some kind of explosive reaction that’ll provide him with a little entertainment for the quiet evening.

Instead, you drop your hip and smile sweetly at him, taking your time in slowly looking him up and down, then shooting him a quick wink. “Thanks. You too.”

Rhett’s smile falters, brows scrunching.

Your heart thuds in your chest as you turn and walk away from him. He watches you the rest of the way up the hill, features creased in confusion. Irritating you is fun, flirting with you is going to get him in trouble.

“Young lady, where have you been?” It all begins before the screen door has even closed behind you. You lean your head back and sigh softly. You’re less than twenty minutes later than usual.

Helping with dinner. Sitting politely whilst your father rattles on about cattle and your mother periodically interjects about Sunday service this week. Begrudgingly helping Scarlett with her history homework a little after that.

Not only under this roof, within these four walls does it feel that your every waking moment belongs to your parents, but also under lilac clouds and powder blue skies. You kick your shoes through blades of uncut grass, reveling in a few minutes to yourself before the sun sets.

Friday night and you’re wandering aimlessly to your fences, along the treeline and back along again. Lena’s probably out right now, building some exciting story that you’ll hear about on Monday, bubbling with envy.

Rhett takes a sip of his beer as the door to the bunk house swings shut behind him. He walks over to his truck and drops the tailgate, taking a deep breath as he sets his beer down and sits down.

Leaning back on his palms, his intention is to look towards the sky and think about what comes next. Instead, his gaze lands on you. A while away still, trailing your fingers along the longest blades of grass by the treeline. You’ve changed out of your uniform and are wearing a modest, loose fitting dress.

He picks up the beer bottle and brings it to his lips as he watches you. As a lion watches a gazelle through the tall grass. It’s no wonder than Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne keep such a close eye on you.

Pretty in the way that you are. With an attitude like that, he bets that you’ve been catching the wrong kind of attention from guys like him for a while now.

The next time he sets his beer down, he clocks that you’re heading towards him. Whether or not you have noticed him yet, he isn’t sure until you get closer.

You’ve noticed him. Sitting on his truck bed in a thin green t-shirt, a pair of jeans and that black cap from earlier. As you trail the fence line, knowing that I’ll lead you in his direction, you think of one of the first stories Lena had told you.

The first time she’d had sex. With a boy from her grade in her junior year of high school, in the cab of his truck. Every detail had seemed so seamless. So easy.

You’ve never had a conversation with a man that has led further than some hand holding, let alone that leads into something like that so flawlessly.

“Am I in trouble, officer?” Rhett calls out to you first. Initially, your instinct is to roll your eyes and straighten up. Taking it in your stride, you think of what Lena would want you to say. Your mind races. It’s a mishmash of needing to not take too long to answer and having no idea what to say.

“Depends.” You decide. That doesn’t sound too bad. Your tone wasn’t off, it’s confident enough to have fooled him. His lips quirk softly as you grow closer. Gravel crunches under your soles as you continue towards him.

“On what?” Rhett quips in response, leaning back on one of his palms. Your eyes trail the pronounced veins in his forearms, intricate lines on tanned skin. Finally, you meet his gaze again.

Another brief panic. Lena. One of Lena’s answers. Something. You look at his face for the answer, nothing. Your eyes land on the beer bottle at his side.

“Whether or not you’re willing to share.”

Rhett follows that impish look on your face down to the glass bottle at his side. His lips quirk softly, gesturing his head for you to sit beside him. One drink never hurt anyone.

Your feet carry you forwards, turning and sitting down on the truck bed at his side. He passes the glass bottle into your hand.

Swiping a thumb through the condensation on the side, you toy with it first. Rhett watches your thumb trail the glass bottle, then lifts his gaze to look at you. Seven days and you’re the only woman he has seen, he’s starting to wonder how bad your father’s temper could possibly be — and more importantly, how good you are at keeping secrets.

Whether or not you’re interested in him isn’t drawn into question, not with the way you trail around him like a fly on a hot day. He’s already made up his mind on how you feel about him.

You lift the bottle and take a big sip. The liquid sits on your tongue, all bubbles and bitter fizz. Rhett raises his eyebrows expectantly. He waits a few seconds, then frowns.

“You going to swallow that?”

Embarrassed and not at all impressed by the cheap beer, you swallow it anyway and hand the bottle back to him again. Rhett laughs at your side as he takes a drink for himself.

Your cheeks and ears burn all at once, even as the temperature drops along with the sun, both of them disappearing hand in hand beyond the horizon. Your burning discomfort is more than enough to keep you warm, luckily.

He trails his thumb along the bottle as you had, watching as his larger digit slides through the path yours had taken, covering over any trace of your touch on the bottle.

He looks down at your hands in your lap, unmistakably smaller than his own, then back out towards the field. He won’t make the first move — that’s sensible enough. If you come onto him, then so be it, if not, he’ll leave you alone.

“I’ll bet you’re used to the good stuff. German beer, something like that? — Actually, I’ll bet you go for your dad’s liquor cabinet.” Rhett muses, expecting an answer but still halfway talking to himself. His voice is rumbling and deep, always quiet.

You drank a sip of vodka once when you were fifteen, then you prayed for forgiveness. More recently, you slipped a bottle of gin from the liquor cabinet. It’s under your bed and you drink from it when you feel like it, but it’s not good.

“Better than whatever that crap is.” You answer calmly. Rhett glances across at you as you lean back on your palms. You’re bolder than he thought you’d be, and he has no idea that it’s an act for the most part.

He smiles as he glances down and reads the bottle. He’s not a brand loyalist, and the beer really is too shitty for him to defend it to you.

He sets it down between the two of you and digs a hand into his front pocket, “You smoke?”

You swallow softly, the taste of that shitty cheap fizz on your tongue. Lena would say yes. “When I feel like it.”

He pulls his cigarettes from his pocket and pulls one from the pack, offering it to you first. Looking at the thin Marlboro extended towards you between his calloused fingers, something in your brain short circuits.

You’re a smart girl, you’re college educated, you know how people look when they accept a cigarette, you’ve seen it before. And yet, some backwards, incorrectly functioning part of your brain leaves your hands static in your lap.

Rhett watches as you part your lips just slightly. His brows scrunch just briefly, it’s a fraction of a second type movement but you catch it happen. He flips the cigarette between his fingers and leans in to set the butt of it between your lips.

Your eyes are on him. He stares back at you as your lips close around the end of the cigarette. Breeze sweeps your hair back slightly away from your forehead and reminds him to move.

He pulls his lighter from his pocket and clicks down the spark wheel, igniting the small flame, cupping his free hand around it to shield it from the wind.

You hold it between your lips, letting him light then end and taking a small puff. His lips quirk instantly. You realise that you must’ve done it wrong.

All that you did was pull a bit of smoke into your mouth and then breathe it back out. That’s right. He can see your mind working, trying to figure out where you went wrong.

“Try again.” Rhett nods. You steady the cigarette between your index and middle finger and take another drag. “That’s it. Breathe in, hold it.”

Your brows furrow as you hold the smoke in your lungs. He smirks, then nods. “Now exhale.”

It seems like it’s going to go well, you’re about halfway through the exhale when it catches in your throat and you splutter, leaning forwards and coughing.

Rhett nudges at your hand with the bottle, prepared already as he swaps it for the cigarette.

“You’re a real pro, kid,” He comments as he sets the cigarette between his lips, you sip tenderly at the beer beside him and rub at your throat. “I’ll bet you could teach me a thing or two. Y’know, since you smoke all the time.”

There it is, that’s what he was looking for. He’s under your skin. You turn your head and glare at him as you set the beer down again.

He turns his head to look at you. Quiet, just watching you struggle to come up with something witty to say now that he has caught you in the lie. You’re pretty sure that Lena’s never been caught in a lie, it’s not in her nature.

He nudges his knee softly into yours, the worn out denim of his jeans skimming over your bare skin. You still your hands as they go to pull your dress down further. You let it stay where it is, letting him brush his leg into the side of yours. It’s a friendly gesture, letting you know that he’s not making fun of you.

Your fingertips brush his arm as you go for the beer bottle once more. Maybe you’re sitting too close, but he doesn’t pull away. You bring the bottle to your lips and take another sip. It’s starting to not be so bad. Plus, it’s getting that bad cigarette taste out of your mouth.

There’s a period of quiet, sitting knee to knee, elbow to elbow with this man that you know next to nothing about. His name’s Rhett, he’s from Wyoming. That’s about all you know about him, and it makes your heart jump.

Sitting here with him, this is what Lena was talking about, this is how it’s meant to feel. All of those times you were nudged towards supposedly charming sons in church, it hadn’t ever felt right. Your heart racing in your chest and the warmth from his skin burning it’s mark into yours, that’s got to be right.

You flinch at the sound of your mother's voice. She’s calling you from the porch again, you had left your phone on the kitchen table.

“Mommy’s calling.” Rhett quips, taking the beer bottle from your hand and taking a small sip as he flicks ash onto the ground. You shoot a narrow-eyed look back at him. He smirks.

“You’re smoking too close to the building again.” Your voice drips with triumph, thinking you’ve shut him up, pushing yourself down from the truck and standing up right.

“You’d better hurry on up that hill, or she might just ground you.” Rhett taunts in response. Your lips press together. He hums in amusement as you turn on your heel and walk away from him, kicking gravel in your path until you reach the dirt.

That’s not flirting. Belittling is not flirting. You scowl, not bothering to look back at the stupid cowboy sitting on his stupid truck. Asshole. The word remains on the inside of your mouth as you brush past your mother and walk back inside. You’re getting better at turning it off around her now.

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@xoxabs88xox @whisperofsong @perpetuelledaydreaming @laluneveillesureux @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger

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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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Blow by Blow | 0.5 | 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. Boxing au.

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

…

“Okay, um — no, no,” Natasha winces, shaking her head at you. She grabs your knee and pushes it back down. “No legs — no kicking.”

Jake snorts at the other side of the gym, leaning his head back, then remembering he’s supposed to be spotting Javy, who’s failing out of a bench press. “Oh shit.”

He catches the bar and helps his friend lift it back onto the rack.

“But… I saw on TV—“

“Different sport, kid.” Payback chuckles from the side of the ring, leaning against the ropes. Your lips part slightly, confused. Bradley leans against the doorframe to the office, arms folded over his chest.

You nod slowly as Natasha guides you back into the correct stance. You squint at the heavy bag, readying yourself to go again.

In the month since you’ve moved in, you’ve gotten better at this — but there’s still a lot you don’t know. Still, Natasha has enjoyed seeing you come out of your shell.

Interviewing each of the staff members for the website really helped. Sitting down with each of them for a couple of hours and doing a video interview with them to post on the About section of the website, just a friendly Q&A to make people feel more comfortable coming in and meeting the team.

If it helped you warm up to the idea of training here, then it would help others too.

Bradley is the only one that you haven’t managed to pin down for an interview yet, but he has been busy — he has the most clients around here because he’s been around the longest

Maverick has been loving your ideas so far. He thinks you’re a tech genius for some basic website design and creative ideas.

This entire month has been like a dream that you’re just waiting to wake up from. Even that evening, after hours spent at a local bar — you’re on cloud nine.

Maybe a couple too many drinks, maybe it’s just because you’re so happy, but you’ve been laughing all night.

“You sure you don’t want me to drop you off at home? — It’s on my way.” Payback offers, dangling his keys from his index finger. He’s got a fight coming up and he has cut out all alcohol, but he just has a tiny little sports car that won’t fit everyone. Bradley lives closest.

“Well, yeah — I’m not going to let her walk home on her own,” Bradley answers as he shoots a quick look over to you, grinning with Bob and Mickey as the three of you make plans for the weekend coming. “Besides, it’s not that far out of my way.”

Jake nods his head and pats Bradley’s shoulder, taking Bradley’s spot in that tiny little sports car, “Alright, we’ll see you tomorrow then. Don’t forget you agreed to take care of my eight a.m. session.”

Bradley calls out an agreement and waves the two of them off as he walks over to you.

“You ready?” He asks gently.

“Oh — yeah. Okay, bye guys, I’ll see you both tomorrow.” You stick your arms out and they hug a side of you each, then call out their goodnights to the each of you.

“What did you guys end up deciding to do this weekend?” Bradley asks, reaching past you and curling his fingers around the empty glass in your hand. He takes it and sets it onto the table beside you, then catches hold of your hand and turns you towards the door.

You comply wordlessly, letting him steer you towards the exit. He drops your hand and lets you walk ahead of him.

“Bob knows this hiking trail that has some really great views, and I’ve never been on a real hike, so we’re all going to take Tank with us.”

He hums behind you to show that he’s listening, stepping outside into the night right behind you. “Sounds like fun.”

“Do you want to come?” You offer, turning your head to look at him, your features soft and expectant. Not quite hopeful. Rooster shakes his head.

“Can’t, I’m working this weekend.” Bradley answers. It’s not a lie, he should be working this weekend, but he’s also kind of the boss and hasn’t ever taken notice of the hours that he’s supposed to be working.

You inhale softly, not bothering to argue with him about it. You kind of don’t want him there, anyway. Being all brooding and weird — it would be more fun without him there. That feels mean. It’s not that you don’t like Bradley, it’s just that he’s kind of a dick sometimes.

“You alright? — you’ve gone all quiet, all of a sudden.” Bradley nudges his hand into the back of your bicep as you walk ahead of him. You turn and look over your shoulder once more.

Maybe it’s all the fresh air, but you feel a thousand times more buzzed out here than you had in there.

“Could we walk back along the marina?” You slow down so that you’re at his side. Bradley nods his head, it’ll only add an extra ten minutes to the walk, and sometimes it’s nice down there at night time.

You walk ahead as he pushes his hands into his pockets and watches you. Bradley trained with Jett for a couple of years, he had known from the first session that Jett was an asshole — he just hadn’t realised that it went further than that. Maybe he could have done something earlier.

Your skin cools quickly with the ocean air, goosebumps rising on your skin from the sudden change in temperature.

Finally, you round the path and grow close enough to see the boats, the lights of the city and right out over the bay. You slow down to take notice of it.

“So, do you live near here?” You ask Bradley without looking back to him, gaze turned out over the water. Bradley watches you walk in front of him, his eyes on your legs as you narrowly miss each crack in the pavement. Inches from stumbling, somehow staying on your feet.

“Near Little Italy.” He answers you.

You scrunch your brows and turn quickly towards him, walking backwards without slowing. His features tighten, eyes on your heels — there’s a rock on the path, your shoe lands centimetres from it and you escape breaking your ankle.

“This is out of your way, then.” You realise.

Bradley lifts his gaze, looking at you with the faintest hint of amusement on his face. He nods slowly. “Yeah. But it’s alright.”

“I didn’t say thank you.” You remind him, lips quirking up into a playful smile. His mouth toys at a smirk. He likes it when you forget yourself around him, leave all of that worrying and quietness behind. He can see why the others like you so much when you’re like this.

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans and nods again. He smirks back at you, “That’s alright too.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at him. “If I keep training with Nat, pretty soon you’ll be asking me to walk you home.”

He chuckles lowly. “Is that right?”

You nod your head and slow down, letting him catch up to you. He slows, standing in front of you, brows scrunching. He opens his mouth to question your motives, then stops as you turn your head and look out over the water.

Salty sea air, fuzzy bright lights around the harbour, warm skin as you lean forwards into him. It’s a half-intentional move, you want to be closer but you’re also just tipsy and not that steady on your feet.

Bradley’s hands find your waist, unfazed as you tip your chin to look at him. Maybe it’s the liquid courage, but you aren’t in the slightest bit bashful about staring at him.

He lets you, glancing down at the patterned florals on your dress as his fingers lay still over the material. As his eyes meet yours again, they’re especially dark in this light, almost black. Nothing like the golden hue from this evening’s sunset.

He inhales slowly. Pomegranate, vanilla violet, mahogany wood and amber. His fingers smooth softly over your waist, eyes not faltering from yours.

You press closer into him, palm splayed out open on his chest, warm muscle under your fingertips. He stares at you, for a second questioning whether or not you’re about to do what he thinks you’re going to do. He leans into your touch, letting your lips press softly into his.

His breath stops in his airways. You mouth on his, just for a moment. As you go to pull back, his lips chase yours. You hum softly into him, meeting him with another gentle kiss. His bottom lip slotted between yours as his fingers curl into the fabric of your dress.

Pulling back slowly, you look up at him through your lashes and take one step back. Bradley loosens his hold on you, then drops his arms back to his sides.

You turn away from him and continue ahead.

“What was that for?” Bradley’s brows scrunch. You take a deep breath and sigh contentedly as you continue along the path, walking ahead of him once again.

“I just thought it would be a good spot for a first kiss.”

Your cheeks are warm, your hands cold as you trail along the path at the side of the marina. Bradley walks just a pace behind you, his hands pushed deep into the front pockets of his jeans.

Just when he thinks he’s got you figured out, you’re off ahead of him again. He shakes his head softly. A good spot for a first kiss.

He squints at the back of your head — that implies that there will be more kisses to come, is he meant to kiss you again?

Your heels clack across the parking lot, around the side of the building. As you near the base of the metal steps up to your apartment, you turn back around to say goodnight.

His hands press into your hips, curling into the fabric of your dress as he walks you back — your breath hitches in your throat — a soft sound is knocked from you as your back hits into the red brick of Bradshaw’s exterior.

Rooster takes a second, looking you over, searching your features for a sign of doubt before he leans forwards and presses his weight into you. You swallow softly.

He lifts one hand, curling it around your jaw, turning your chin upwards and pressing his lips against yours. It’s soft at first, tender like yours had been. Then, he presses himself harder into you, sliding his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you harder into him.

A surprised hum slips out against Bradley’s mouth, but as he urges his tongue past your lips, the sound is followed by a delightfully contented moan.

Your hands slide up his chest, coming to rest against his ribs, almost like you’re going to push him off. You’ve got no intentions of stopping this just yet. Bradley pushes himself forwards, needing to be closer.

Bradley uses his height against you, crowding you against the wall, pressing the entire length of his body into yours and slotting his thick, denim-clad thigh between your legs. Your dress bunches up out of his way, not hindering his access in the slightest.

He squeezes your hip and slides his arm around your back, grinding himself forwards into you. You’re supposed to be shy, always so quiet. Now, you rock yourself onto his thigh, fingers curling into his t-shirt.

Lifting your leg to graze it against his thigh, your heel knocks gently into the bottom step. He presses you harder into the wall, caressing his tongue into yours. The ding of your heel against the metal step is soft enough to have not disturbed you. The loud bark that comes from upstairs following that gentle ding, though — that makes you flinch.

You pull apart, lips parted. Staring up at him, breathing heavily. Your skin burns as you realise who you’re with and what just happened — and where you are.

“Um… I should,” You breathe out, blinking at him, “I should go and let him out.”

Bradley nods his head. It’s a couple of seconds before his brain catches up and he finally lets you go, stepping back and freeing you from being trapped against the wall.

“Okay.” He nods, wetting his lips with his tongue. He thinks back to the conversation he had with Natasha. Whatever happened between you and Jett. It was probably a bad idea to—

“Do you want to come up?”

He stares at you for a second, lips quirking up at the sides. He exhales softly, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Sure.”

You aren’t even sure why you asked him, it seems like a bad idea before you’ve even said it — it seems like an even worse idea when he’s headed up the steps behind you.

“You have to stay here and let Tank sniff you or he’s going to freak out.”

Rooster nods his head. It can’t be that bad, he has learnt his lesson from last time. He waits outside whilst you go in and calm Tank down, clipping him into his leash to let him out.

Once Tank has sniffed him, you allow Rooster to wait inside while you get Tank settled. He’s waiting by the counter with his arms folded over his chest by the time you’re done. It doesn’t feel the same.

Maybe the moment has passed. You swallow softly, shifting uncomfortably as Tank settles down into his spot on the couch. Glancing across, you open your mouth to comment on how Tank is finally warming up to him. Tank growls lowly, a warning for Bradley to stay where he is.

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and hums, “Maybe I should go.”

“But…” You start out softly.

He steps towards you and Tank growls again. You swallow softly and shoot a look to your dog. Bradley takes one more step towards you, and Tank is silent. The second that Bradley reaches out for you, he growls again.

This has got to be some kind of divine intervention from Natasha. He shouldn’t be here, doing this.

“Alright, Bambi — I’m going to head home. I’ll see you in the morning.” He breathes out, shaking his head softly. You open your mouth to protest. He pats your shoulder platonically and heads for the door. You close it again quickly.

You’ve already embarrassed yourself enough. This really hot guy, who you have to see every day, who just rejected you. You close your eyes for a second and sigh. You let him leave without a word.

…

---

conor_o_donohoe ig story 19.7.2023