Perfectly Intoxicating (Pt.8)

Crying rn 🤣😔

Steam III

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

Length: ~15.4k | Fic Length: ~64k

Credits: banner: @caelesjjk and @shadowkoo | betas: @tomodachiii @miniseokminnies @gyuswhore @haologram and @wqnwoos

Note: part 3 lets gooooo. crazy that this'll all be over soon. i hope yall enjoy the chaos and more shenanigans from two dumbies in love

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.

If you hadn’t respected your grandmother so much you would’ve killed her for throwing you to the wolves. It was the inevitable end to the week's festivities, finding a husband. But so far, none the men brought forth sparked any reaction other than disdain and disgust. 

You hated it. You hated them. You hated the entire ordeal of selling yourself off like a prized calf at auction, batting your eyelashes and giggling at unfunny jokes.

But it was your duty. Whether you liked it or not, it had to be done.

That fact repeated in your mind like a mantra as another suitor fumbled through a story about his opinions on nothing.

However, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the men in front of you, all you could think about was the one standing off to the side behind you.

Wonwoo hadn’t mentioned the books you gifted him the previous night; one as an apology for Maoki’s childish behavior, the other as a thank you for taking you to the Lower Block. There wasn’t much time for conversation between the fiasco of the talent show and the early morning appointment with your seamstress he was forced to wait outside of. Maybe after lunch you would have the opportunity. Your copy of The Pearls of Drak was better off with someone who could appreciate it, but the Poems of Stars was a spontaneous choice to throw in. 

That particular copy stayed by your side since childhood, filled with smudged annotations, tear stains and bleeding ink from spilled drinks. You knew the verses by heart yet returned back to it again and again. For some reason, you wanted Wonwoo to read it. More than just the poems, you wanted him to read your copy; see if he found the same meanings you did. If he shed tears at “The Moon’s Widow”, or laughed at the old man in “The Constable”, or if he found “The Belle Dame” as beautiful as you did.

“And Capital City is fine, but the country is where children should be raised. Where they can run and play and learn in the great outdoors. I love the outdoors. Earth beneath your feet…”

Your grandmother meant for it to be an informal tea party. Chatting with multiple men at a time; a convenient way to ease into the courting process considering there were so many suitors to consider, to call upon them individually would take weeks. But the men talked over one another or attempted to subtly block each other from your view so you were forced to receive them one at a time at a table in the corner, a long queue spiraling through the chamber.

You assured it moved rather swiftly.

Duke Zul continued to droll on about his disdain for the city and how the countryside was far superior in all merits. He was old. Too old. As if he was around to witness the mountains form and the oceans rise.

“My apologies, Your Grace.” You smiled; the perfect picture of a demure princess. “But we seem to be out of time.”

The duke blinked, shocked by the interruption. He probably forgot you were there considering you hadn’t spoken since he sat down. It was a nice break from repeating the same set of sentences over and over again like a parrot but it didn’t help the throbbing vein in your temple.

Unfortunately, the moment Zul abandoned his seat, someone else stepped forward to take it.

“Your Highness.” Jao bowed so deeply the hem of his coat swept against the marble floor. A ridiculous shade of green that would only look fashionable on him.

“My Lord,” you greeted in return. “Please sit.”

Flopping into the chair, Jao nibbled on the almond cookies spread on the table before scanning your figure boldly. “Forgive me for being so bold but, you look ravishing this morning.”

“How presumptuous,” you snickered. Jao sang like a dying bird but he always managed to make you laugh.

He picked a piece of lint off his shoulder. “I must say, I’m unimpressed by my competition. They all seem so…plain.”

Jao’s attendance was more for appearances than anything else. He was the spare and could do as he pleased, who he pleased; those who pleased him were decidedly male. Everyone knew it. But his family was powerful and no one made a peep when he demanded time with an old friend.

“Yes, it takes a man of character to wear orange trousers and a green shirt.” You hid your smile in a teacup. 

“I’ll have you know this is the style in the Earth Kingdom.”

“I was unaware the Earth Kingdom was so fond of circus clowns.”

Jao’s brow furrowed. “My brother has been on the throne for ten years and you didn’t know?”

“My deepest apologies.” You dunked one of the cookies in your own tea and bit off the corner.

“I’ll forgive you,” Jao said. “Now, how about we go down to the sages and get this entire ordeal over with? This hard to get game is starting to lose its charm.”

“I—“ you started.

“Your Highness,” Wonwoo interrupted, eyes trained suspiciously on Jao. “You have a meeting.”

“I do?” you asked, eyes wide. There were plenty of meetings happening but none required your presence. Your grandmother made sure of it.

Wonwoo nodded slowly, dragging his eyes away from Jao and setting them on you. “Yes. Now. With Minister Vasa.”

There was no Minister Vasa at the palace this week. There was no Minister Vasa in the history of the kingdom. What was Wonwoo doing?

“Right…Minister Vasa. Sorry, Jao, I must go.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Jao nodded before leaning close, “When you're done with your guard, send him my way.”

“You are horrible,” you whispered.

“Horribly in love,” Jao sighed, snagging another cookie before skittering off.

The line of men groaned in objection as you passed but you ignored every single one of them, cooing empty pleasing words to soothe them. There were more important things to take care of. Like whatever game Wonwoo was playing at.

Out in the hallway, you rounded on him. “Is there a reason I have a meeting with Minister Vasa all of a sudden?”

He had the sense to look embarrassed and a little guilty; ears red, throating bobbing as he swallowed. You tried to object when he grabbed your elbow and steered you further down the hallway away from the room filled with eavesdropping lordlings.

Around the next corner, he finally released you and spoke. “You looked uncomfortable. I was trying to help.”

You blinked in shock. You hadn’t thought about Wonwoo paying attention during your meetings even with him a few feet away. The thoughts you had about his opinions were limited to his amusement at seeing you paraded around, the comments from royals with barely enough brain cells to function. You hadn’t considered he was watching you during the entire ordeal. 

You took a step closer, backing him towards the wall. “You think Jao made me uncomfortable?”

“He asked you to elope with him!” Wonwoo argued.

“Jao is a harmless flirt.” Another step forward, and Wonwoo’s back hit the wall. He didn’t seem to notice.

Wonwoo grumbled. “He didn’t seem harmless.”

You stepped closer, leaving barely an inch of space between you. “You don’t think I could handle Jao myself?”

Wonwoo seemed to finally realize the position he was in, eyes widening when your hands rested on his chest. “You’re right, he probably needed someone to protect him from you.”

“Oh, I’m just sooo terrifying, aren’t I?” Your eyes locked on his mouth. 

He dipped his head, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I heard you have a nasty habit of freezing men to walls.”

“Baseless rumors,” you said breathlessly, barely an inch away from kissing him.

Down the corridor, shoes shuffled along the floor, knocking you from whatever trace possessed you to kiss Wonwoo in the hallway where anyone could see. 

They were distant but gaining swiftly. Afraid it was someone coming to speak with you about how rude it was to leave your own party early, you searched for somewhere – anywhere – to hide. Luckily, you recognized the woodland tapestry on the far wall and pulled it aside, shoving Wonwoo behind it before joining him. He tried to speak but you silenced him with a finger against his mouth.

“Why are we in the dark?” Wonwoo whispered, lips dragging against your finger. The words tickled across your skin where you pressed together.

You shushed him, ears perked as the footsteps drew closer.

There wasn’t much space in the cubby to begin with and paired with his broad frame, you were close enough his chest brushed against yours with each inhale. Wonwoo eyes widening when you leaned a little closer; pressed a little firmer, crowded him against the wall with nowhere to retreat once more. He was so warm and solid, completely unlike your element. Intoxicating. Even with someone right outside, you couldn’t resist the urge to touch him. Your hand slid down to his chest and rested on the waistband of his pants.

No one expected you anywhere; you could easily raise on your toes to kiss him and nobody would have a clue; just like you wanted to before being interrupted by reality. You could drown in him, completely swept away while people shuffled right past the tapestry none the wiser. Only swollen lips and ruffled clothing to give you away.

He must have thought the same, eyes darting towards your mouth before he leaned closer…

Only to tuck his face in the crook of your neck and trace the curve with the tip of his nose.

Your fingers curled in his shirt as his breath puffed against your skin, a flare of goosebumps raising with a shiver. The click of footsteps passed and disappeared, but you remained tangled together in the dark.

“Thank you for the books, by the way,” Wonwoo whispered. 

“Did you have a chance to read some of it?”

“A few pages,” he sighed, hands flexed on the dip of your waist.

“Sorry Maoki ruined your copy.” Your own arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers toying with the hairs at the nape of his neck until Wonwoo shuddered. This close, you could feel the blood rushing in his veins, the throb of his pulse beating heavily. Like that night in the forest. “What did you think?”

“The Belle Dame seemed familiar…”

“How so?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, a new pair of footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

“I swear, I thought she went this way,” a squeaky male voice said.

You jolted back, the space between you and Wonwoo growing as you listened intently to the conversation clearly not meant for your ears. His leg still pressed between your legs and your hands bunched in his shirt but whatever haze filled the space evaporated.

Another deeper voice responded, “And what are you planning to do when you find her? Demand a private audience? I doubt she even knows your name.”

“I’ll have you know we spent yesterday afternoon in the gardens together. We would have had a lovely time if it wasn’t for her guard dog getting in the way.”

Maoki.

“She’s absolutely vile,” a new voice chimed. They all stopped right in front of the curtain where you were tangled with your guard dog in an incredibly compromising position. “If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!”

“Even with the crown, she’s not worth the trouble,” said the deeper voice.

“I don’t know…” said Maoki. “There’s some satisfaction in taming a woman as head strong as her.”

“If she doesn’t bite your head off first.”

“Women like her just need the right man.”

You didn’t need to be tamed by anyone, let alone someone like Maoki. You moved to reveal yourself and remind him of that fact but Wonwoo stopped you with his hand on your elbow, the heat of his palm warming through the delicate fabric of your dress, his thumb rubbing small circles.

“I’ve never met such a beautiful woman with such an ugly disposition.”

When they moved on, you stayed rooted in place, flushed with embarrassment. It would have been one thing to hear their opinions of you alone but in the company of someone else the insults made you flush. Did Wonwoo agree? Were you the vile woman people only put up with because of the glittering crown atop your head? Because it was his job? Was his only motivation the fact you held his life in your hand?

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked.

The security of the dark, a safe place where dangerous thoughts existed in excess, vanished. He was too close. To you, to the truth, to melting the careful mask of regal indifference crafted from years in the court. You weren’t able to keep it in place as firmly with Wonwoo around and it was terrifying being so close without the armor of a crown. You were practically naked in front of him, only able to hide because he couldn’t see the pinch of your mouth.

You swallowed the embarrassment like thick medicine, healing the parts of you softened and hardening them back as they were. “I’m fine. I’ve heard worse.” 

Not wanting to look at him, you left the alcove and strode down the corridor back towards your apartment. You’d make up some excuse about needing your seamstress before the ball tonight or taking a nap to fill the afternoon, find something to read. Or maybe hide away in the bath until your fingers pruned. Whatever it took to avoid the pity in his eyes.

You didn’t need any excuse. The dress you originally planned to wear needed finishing alterations. Your seamstress Maya pinned and unpinned the hem of your gown dozens of times, hiding her exhaustion with your indecision under her breath. It was beautiful. The red fabric poured down your figure, clinging to every curve and the open back revealed just enough skin. No jewels or embroidery, just simple silk. Something felt missing but after the fifteenth attempt, you and Maya called a truce.

“A little bird told me you left your party early this afternoon,” Han said as she pinned a comb in your hair. 

Sami dabbed perfume around your neck. “With Won—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You watched in the mirror as they exchanged a look over your head, thankful the other servants had dismissed themselves for the night already.

Han grabbed a delicate gold necklace from the stand on the counter and clasped it around your neck. “You like him.”

“Of course I do.”

It felt horrible and freeing to admit it. You spent the entire tea party imagining if it was him sitting across from you and not the others. Just you two. Alone. Talking about books, and his friends in the city. Exchanging stories from childhood. You wanted to know exactly how he got the silver scar at his brow. Share the time you and Mingyu tried to scale the garden walls and ended up with matching scars of your own on the center of your palm.

You liked Wonwoo so much, maybe even felt even more than that; but your feelings didn’t matter. He was who he was and you were what you were. 

Han plucked another pin from the velvet tray and pressed it into your hair. “Then what’s stopping you? You’re the princess. If you can’t be with whoever you love, then what hope is there for the rest of us.”

“I—“ you began to argue, eyes closing. The vein in your temple throbbed. 

“If you really wanted to be with him, you’d go to your grandmother and tell her,” Sami said.

“What if he doesn’t want me?”

Han looked to Sami with disbelief. “She’s joking.”

“The tournament is the day after tomorrow.”

“I know,” you said, focusing on your hands in your lap.

“Are you sure you don’t—”

“I want to get this over with. In silence. If you don’t mind.”

They wrapped up their work as you asked and left with a gentle squeeze on your shoulders. With no more reasonable delays, you exited your room and found Wonwoo sitting on one of the couches reading a book in a crisp black uniform.

He looked up as you approached, wide eyes skirting over your body. The book tumbled out of his hand and onto the cushion as he rose to his feet.

“You look—” he started softly.

Not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, you cut him off. “Let’s go. I don’t want to be late.”

The ballroom was packed. You smiled at the crowd even though your heart squeezed, mind replaying over what Wonwoo was going to say over and over again but the crowd inside the ballroom swallowed you whole; an easy distraction. Men and women introduced and reintroduced themselves; like packs of wolves in glittering gowns and fine suits, teeth gleaming in the light of the chandeliers. In the chaos, you forced yourself to concentrate on the years of court manners ingrained in your bones. You were an untouchable island and you would survive tonight and the day after. And when the week was done, you’d be married and whatever Wonwoo planned to say would be forgotten.

Music and laughter bounced off the walls, the dance floor a sea of jewels and colorful silks as couples twirled around. From the ceiling acrobats tangled themselves in silk ropes, flipping and twisting, unraveling just to climb back up and start again. Actors stood on pedestals, skin painted and wearing masks to resemble different spirits; they froze in place as partiers circled them. Through the massive windows of the far wall, you watched hundreds of lanterns float into the sky from the gardens.

One of your favorite festivals and the usual cheer felt impenetrable. If you couldn’t enjoy it, then you’d distract yourself from feeling anything at all.

You danced with every man who asked, successfully avoiding the edge of the dance floor where he waited next to your grandmother. The music swelled and faded over and over until their faces blurred together as you were led straight into the next song. You knew Wonwoo was watching. He was always watching, but you avoided his gaze even though it prickled across your skin. 

When the current dance ended, you curtsied to Kabaar who walked away with a disillusioned frown; most of the men you danced with did. What they anticipated, you didn’t know. You tried to smile and nod and flatter but insincerity rang clear.

The orchestra took a break, leaving you to hover awkwardly on the floor without a partner. Your feet were sore and your head hurt but there were few options to hide without the cover of music and dancing. A walk in the garden? Perfect place to be alone in the dark with Wonwoo. Sneak out the servant's entrance? Your grandmother would kill you. You could douse yourself in wine again but that left you back in your room with Wonwoo. The only option was to take your place on the dias next and rest your feet until another song started.

“How many more are left?” 

“Just two,” Lin said. “Gyan and Char.”

A servant walked passed with a tray of wine and your fingers itched to tip the entire thing over, give yourself a reason to leave early. You snagged a glass and downed it quickly before grabbing another. Your eyes rolled. “Wonderful.”

Lin opened her mouth, no doubt to chastise you for the vulgar display but Gyan materialized as if summoned, offering his hand. 

You turned, a smile plastered back in place. The wine already flushed through your veins. You finished your second cup before taking his hand and spinning back out to the floor.

The rosy glow from alcohol served little relief. Gyan jerked you around the floor, narrowly missing your feet with each step. “You are a lovely dancer, Your Highness. Like a deer.”

“Thank you,” you nodded, teeth clashing together as he pulled you roughly; completely ridiculous. In your tipsy haze, your self control slipped from its tight leash; on instinct, you looked at Wonwoo for the first time tonight. His eyes widened in shock before he schooled his features back to neutral. Then, when you didn’t rush to look away, he offered an awkward smile.

The first time you looked directly at him all night and it was just as dangerous as you knew it would be. 

Luckily, the music changed for the last dance and someone else appeared out of the crowd to distract you.

“Your Highness,” Char announced with a deep bow. “Please honor me with a dance.”

“Of course.” 

Char danced far better than Gyan. He whirled you around the dance floor with graceful expertise, none of the stomping of Gyan or loud chatter the other suitors maintained. The orchestra swelled to fill the silence lingering between you and Char as your mind wandered thousands of miles away.

You stumbled when Char broke the delicate silence. “Have you ever been in love, Your Highness?”

Over Char’s shoulder, you looked straight into a pair of brown eyes again. He seemed prepared this time. The room faded under Wonwoo’s gaze full of unspoken things, full of all the moments someone or something interrupted. A jolt rocketed down your spine. Did he like to dance? Did he know any of the court dances? His bending was graceful enough, he’d probably pick them up quick enough if you showed him. Would he hold you like Char now? Hands proper, high on your bare back just below your shoulder blades. Or would he keep you closer than necessary? Hold you close while spinning across the dance floor. And if he did, when you looked up and met his eyes, would he kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world?

Char spun you away, breaking your staring contest. With your back to Wonwoo, you looked up at the man guiding you across the floor as he spoke again. They weren’t the rich brown you’d grown fond of. They were green and full of pity.

“With your blessing, I intend to compete in the tournament tomorrow and if I win I hope we could grow fond of each other. I think we both understand what it's like to be torn between our duty and our desires.”

“I—” you stuttered. “I would be honored, my lord.”

“I believe we must do the best for our nation, even if our hearts lie elsewhere.” he said, his voice soft, as though the words were almost for himself as much as for you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, voice quivering. Was it that obvious? 

Char looked unconvinced. “Then I apologize for misreading the situation.”

The waltz continued.

Wonwoo stood at attention next to the raised dais where your grandmother sat, her ladies floating around with their maddening laughter as you spun across the dance floor gracefully. Maoki had squeezed himself into the first dance, stumbling about the dance floor, struggling to keep up with your strides. It would have been comical if Wonwoo wasn’t focused on finding a way to kill him.

If she wasn’t in line for the crown then no one would put up with it!

The crown on your head was the least alluring thing about you. If anything, it was the most frustrating part and the entire reason Wonwoo warred inside his mind at all times about his feelings. 

There was so much more, so much you didn’t show the others but Wonwoo witnessed behind closed doors. You were funny, charming, stubborn, infuriating…

He couldn’t figure it out. One moment you were dragging him into dark corners, pressing yourself against him, trying to kiss him. And he wanted to do it. He would have if Maoki didn’t interrupt, spewing nonsense. But then the next you scurried away and ignored his existence. 

It was exasperating. The worst part is he didn’t know if he wanted you to stop. He wanted you. He wanted you in the garden when your lips curled into a frown as you read. He wanted you in the training pavilion when you launched a torrent of water at his head and laughed. He wanted you when you threatened a noble with a smile on your face. He wanted all of it; you in all your forms. He wanted you all the time. But he couldn’t have any of it. 

By the end of the week you’d have a husband and Wonwoo would be back in the barracks with nothing but memories to haunt him.

As every man but him took a turn guiding you across the floor, Wonwoo grew more restless. There were no knowing looks or silent jokes. There was nothing. You were completely absorbed in whatever they said, smiling and nodding along. But he saw the strain at the corner of your eyes, the muscles in your neck taunt and not from perfect posture.

And then, during Gyan’s turn, when he marched you around like the man had frogs in his pants, you looked at him and Wonwoo barely managed to catch himself from racing across the room and whisking you away to demand an explanation. He stayed rooted in place, watching as the music dissolved and the Queen announced her departure. You didn’t wait before leaving as well, striding out the open doors with Wonwoo struggling to follow. 

Servants trailed with him but Wonwoo ignored them. He spent enough nights listening to the prolonged routine of their fussing, this was no different. He fell into line next to them, eyes glued to the dip of your spine visible from the open back of your dress. His fingers flexed at his sides, itching to reach out and feel the heat of your skin against his palms.

Through the door from the sitting room to your bedchamber, he watched from the corner of his eye as they removed your outer robes and jewels before ushering you into the bathroom out of sight. The few servants left prepared your bed before funneling out until Wonwoo was left in stifling solitude with the weight of his feelings. 

He had no business being jealous and yet it squeezed his lungs until he couldn’t breathe. Seeing you bite your tongue pained him. Wonwoo wanted to hear whatever scathing comment bubbled on your tongue, sharing it like a secret only between the two of you. To see that careful wrangled control slip, unravel a shred of your facade to confirm you were still beneath it all. 

Most all, he wanted to wash away that lingering sadness clouding your eyes.

He couldn’t bear the thought of you upset, willing to do anything to fix it. 

He knew one way; a completely selfish, ludacris way to make you feel better. He paced his room like a caged lion as he turned the idea over and over; weighing the benefits and drawbacks. No matter how foolish it would be, the same point reared its head: you’d like it. It was stupid but before he could think more about it he was standing outside your door, hand raised to knock. Just as his knuckles met the hard wood, it shot open. 

“Oh!” you gasped, jumping back in surprise. “I was gonna call a servant for tea. Did you need something?”

Water from your bath clung to your hair, dampening the fabric of your nightgown and making the white fabric sheer around your collarbone. 

“No, I—” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. Like a little boy again gathering the courage to speak to his schoolyard crush, Wonwoo shuffled on his feet as you stared at him confused.

“You what?”

“Do you still have those servant clothes?”

There was a long pause before you nodded.

“Have you ever been to the festival in the city?”

You shook your head no. More beads dropped from your hair with the motion, sparking in the low candlelight as they fell before blotting your top. Wonwoo did not look. 

You weren’t wearing bindings beneath your nightgown. It made perfect sense but Wonwoo never thought about it before. He tried hard not to now.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

Whatever consequences conjured in his mind about sneaking you out of the palace dissolved as a beaming smile took over your face. He couldn’t help but smile too.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but we have to hurry or we’ll miss it.”

You whipped around, beeling for the gigantic bed in the center of your room. Wonwoo instinctively followed. You pulled a pile from beneath the mattress before looking back at him.

“Turn around,” you commanded.

Wonwoo did as asked but even though he couldn’t see you undress, he heard everything. The woosh of your nightgown hitting the floor, the sound of you shimmying the pants up your legs. Two times you’d been completely naked only a few feet from him and it drove him mad. He forced his body to remember why he was doing this; even if he wanted to crowd you down into the mattress and show you all the ways he was better. More giving, more devoted. Wonwoo was going to give you something those lordlings and princes never could: a real taste of the city.

It was easier to navigate the tunnels now that Wonwoo knew where they led. Emerald Park laid deserted and with the celebration at the palace still raging on, the Noble District was still. Wonwoo thanked the spirits for his months of mundane patrols, easily avoiding the footpath of guards as you followed close behind. This late at night most windows were dark and the ones that weren’t, framed people still partying and drinking, completely unaware of anyone sneaking past their door. 

It didn’t take long to reach Merchant’s Row where the streets were packed with more people than usual, most wearing colorful spirit masks and costumes for the occasion; giant paper puppets of spirits floated through the air, lanterns of all colors burning brightly as fireworks exploded overhead, the moon a bright backdrop to dazzling displays.

You fell into step next to Wonwoo, fingers tangled together to keep close. He tried not to think too much about it. 

“Why are they wearing masks?” you asked.

“Tradition.”

Wonwoo snagged two half masks from a merchant stall, a dragon for himself and a parrot for you. Your eyes crinkled as he pulled it over your head. This close he could count every single eyelash. He had the sudden urge to kiss you. Not the wanting kisses he’d come to expect with you. He wanted to kiss you, hold your hand, and just… be. Was he imagining you leaning closer or was he? Your eyes dropped to his mouth and then—

Someone barreled into him before he figured it out.

“Spirits, I’m so sorry!” the man slurred. “Wait, Wonwoo?”

Wonwoo turned to find Soonyoung staring at him with glazed eyes and ruddy cheeks stark against a green unagi mask pushed up on his head. Clearly, the man had started partying early like every year. Wonwoo smelled the reek of fire whisky and there was smudged lipstick hugging his collar. 

“I thought you were working at the palace?”

“Yeah, they, uhhh” Wonwoo panicked. “They gave me the night off.”

But Soonyoung didn’t care for his explanation, he was staring past Wonwoo and staring directly at you with wide eyes.

“Wait, you’re that girl from the warehouse,” he shook a hand in your direction, the bottle of firewhisky clutched in it spilling over. “I’m a huge fan.”

You looked unsure, passing a weary glance to Wonwoo and stepping closer. “Um, thank you?” 

“No, thank you. I haven’t seen Wonwoo get his ass handed to him like that since we were kids.”

“Well,” you smirked. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Do you work at the palace too?”

Wonwoo felt you go rigid. “Something like that.”

Soonyoung leaned conspiratorially towards Wonwoo, whispering loud enough even people across the street could hear through the clamor,“I like her. Here, have this.” 

He forced the half-drank bottle into your hand. Wonwoo watched as you took a confident swing and immediately regretted it.

“This is disgusting!” you sputtered. 

“The more you drink the better it tastes! Nice to meet you!” Soonyoung called before the crowd swept him away.

With his friend gone, you turned back to Wonwoo, face twisted in disgust. “People drink this?” 

Wonwoo snatched the bottle and took a long swing, eyes set on yours. Your face glowed, sweat from every pore thanks to the heat of packed bodies; your lips still wet from the whiskey as your eyes trained on his tongue licking away a rogue drop at the corner of his mouth. 

It was you who broke first this time.

Wading further down the street, you staunchly ignored Wonwoo and combed through the wares of vendors. Talismans and scrolls of all kinds promising a safe winter crowded most tables, others presented jewelry and pottery, spices and cakes. The buzz of whiskey numbs his brain but not his skin. Your hand is still tangled with his as you tug him along. Wonwoo realized he doesn’t really mind shopping, at least with you. You don’t buy anything but you ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over everything like you couldn’t have it all if you really wanted it.

The apothecary’s stall proved to be trouble.

Colorful vials and jars lined the table like neat rows of soldiers in different colors, all with various contents; some ingredients and some finished products. Most were unrecognizable to Wonwoo but he knew the one in your hand well enough.

“That’s not for you,” Wonwoo said as he plucked the vial from your hand and placed it back down, ears burning.

You immediately picked it back up and cradled it to your chest with a furious scowl. “How do you know?”

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” he said harshly. “Planning on seducing someone?”

You don’t need to, he thought. The bottle of fire whiskey in his hand became a dead weight instantly. He took about swig to distract himself as you scrambled to put the vial back.

“For a couple such as yourselves, I’d recommend this one.” The merchant, an old woman with deep wrinkles and silver eyes, lifted a similar vial filled with an inky blue liquid. “Just the thing to help the seed take.”

“The seed?”

Wonwoo pulled you away before she answered. He couldn’t do anything about the images in his head, they were there whether he liked it or not. You, him, back in your bed; so much naked skin; planted between your legs for hours until you both gasped for air. Where he could learn what every hitch of breath or tiny whimper meant, play with you until you're nothing but a soaked mess for him to clean up with his tongue. And only when you begged him for it would Wonwoo give you his cock. Again and again until the inferno inside him ceased.

You wouldn’t beg, though. He knows you wouldn’t because he wouldn’t be able to drag it out long enough that you’d have to. He’d give you everything, cave before you even thought to ask. 

“You don’t need to be such a brute,” you huffed and shrugged his hold off your arm. 

“She’s trying to sell you fertility potions!”

“So! It’s not like I was planning to buy it!” 

In Wonwoo’s head, he imagined the night much differently. Loose flashes of you laughing, gleefully enjoying the chaos of the holiday while he stood back and soaked the sound in. This was anything but that. He didn’t want to argue with you. He especially didn’t want to endure a hard on because of an argument with you; a fact he would never admit even under torture but there was something about the way the air crackled around you when you got fired up. But that hadn’t been the point of sneaking you out of the ivory palace walls.

He wanted a night where you weren’t a princess, and he wasn’t your guard; a night where you were just you, and the insurmountable mountain of reasons his fondness was dangerous didn’t threaten to drown him like a tsunami. Apparently the spirits didn’t agree.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you sniffed. “If you show me where to get one of those things.”

Wonwoo followed your gaze to a group of kids stuffing their face with fried dough covered in powdered sugar. Luckily, he knew exactly where to get one but the velvet purple tent of a fortune teller lured you in.

You tugged at his sleeve, dragging him closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“She’s a hack,” Wonwoo snorted.

“What’d you say?” an older voice called through the opening. A woman came out of the darkness, hunched over with knobby fingers and thick dark hair with bolts of gray.

Wonwoo began to corral you away. “Nothing, ma’am. Have a good night.”

“Wait!” she croaked. Her face might have been aged but her silver eyes crackled with energy. “Madam Via sees the unseen, hears the unheard. Step inside and I can find the answers you seek. Or, perhaps, a glimpse of the future?”

Wonwoo shot a glance at your hopeful face before scrubbing a hand down his own and asking, “How much?”

“Three gold coins for her, five for you. I don’t like smart mouths.”

He kept his next remarks under his breath while handing over the coins.

“Come this way dear, I can tell you’re the more pleasant one.” Madam Via returned back inside the tent, leaving you and Wonwoo alone.

“Well, at least she has one thing right,” you snarked.

“I doubt she knows what happened in that greenhouse.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before disappearing behind the curtain.

Wonwoo didn’t like the idea of you going in alone. What if the fortune teller recognized you? As unlikely as it was, the idea made him uncomfortable. But he remembered that you were you and if anyone could handle themselves it was you. Your bite was far worse than your bark and Wonwoo trusted you to handle yourself should need arise. 

It hadn’t stopped him from trying to eavesdrop. 

But the thick purple walls of the tent trapped any noise from the inside. He rocked back and forth on his toes, the chatter of passersby filling the silence alongside the chimes of glass beads strung up around the tent. Having grown comfortable standing at your side at all times, to have you suddenly disappear felt like half of him was absent.

He counted the number of beads in the curtain covering the entrance, traced the golden embroidery of the tent walls until his eyes returned to their starting point. He finished off the bottle of fire whiskey and the weight on his shoulders lightened as his thoughts turned hazy. 

You barrelled out of the tent with an impatient tuff before masking your features. Whatever Madam Via told you, you hadn’t liked it. Your mask was gone and Wonwoo pulled his off too, suddenly feeling silly.

“What did she tell you?”

“Don’t make unnecessary journeys. Oh, and to avoid Komodo Shrimp for the next few days.”

Wonwoo scrunched his nose. “Why?”

“Probably because they aren’t in season. I don’t know!” Your eyes rolled. “She said to send you in.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “I’m not going in there.”

“Awww, big scary Wonwoo afraid of a little old lady,” you teased.

He sighed, knowing there was no way to get out of it. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll stay right here.” He ducked inside.

“Welcome,” Madam Via greeted from her seat at a round table covered with a dark cloth, its surface cluttered with cards and brilliantly colored crystals he’d never seen before; a clear crystal ball sat in the center.

The smell of incense strangled the air, smoke curling towards the ceiling. Inside the tent, low candles illuminated the space in a warm glow, the walls covered in tapestries of different colors and images. It made him feel claustrophobic.

“Sit down, you’re letting all the cold air in.”

Wonwoo mumbled an apology and sat on a cushion across from her.

Madam Via produced a ceramic teapot and pushed it into his hands. “Warm this.”

He didn’t think to ask how she knew he was a firebender. The teapot was cool in his hands but Wonwoo slowly pushed heat into it until steam started curling from the spout. The old woman used the time to spoon dried leaves out of different containers into matching cups and set them in front of him.

“Now, pour the tea.”

“I thought I was here to get my fortune read, not for a tea ceremony,” he quipped.

“I like your girlfriend so I’ll let that one slide but next stupid question and I’ll put a curse on you.” She shook a knobby finger at him. “Now drink your tea.”

Wonwoo wanted to argue but thought better of it. The tea tasted earthy, notes of jasmine and rose bloomed on his taste buds. He finished it quickly, barely allowing it to linger on his tongue before swallowing the last mouthful.

Madam Via snatched the cup from his hands and examined the contents. “Well, isn’t that interesting.”

“What?” Wonwoo tried looking into the cup.

“Reading the leaves is an art. Look at the sides of the cup, what do you see?”

The leaves stuck in odd patterns around the rim and walls of the porcelain. The top formed a clear ring but the sides seemed like nothing more than tangled threads. At the bottom the sediment from the leaves resembled a deformed blob. None of it meant much to him.

“I see…a dirty tea cup.”

“What that girl sees in you,” the fortune teller mumbled under her breath. “Look, there. The leaves form a heart at the bottom.”

“That's a blob,” he said.

This time she swatted him with a fan.

“Fine! It’s a heart. What's the big deal?”

Madan Via swatted him again before explaining. “Hearts mean love and relationships. With the knots on the sides it could be conflict. A crossroads…maybe. A path split in two, but you are caught at the intersection, unable to move in either direction. Any recent trouble with your girlfriend?”

Wonwoo’s ears burned red and he mumbled, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You love her, she clearly loves you. I’m not sure it’s as complicated as you think.”

“I didn’t say anything about lov—“

“It radiates off you both like the stench of the western harbor. A blind man could see it.” Madam Via rolled her eyes like the idea exhausted her. “I won’t pretend to understand whatever reasons you have for not being with her but what I do understand is you don’t meet a woman like her every century.”

Wonwoo knew she was right but he didn't feel like giving her the satisfaction of agreeing.

“Now, see how some of the leaves form a circle at the rim? It indicates a happy union is on the horizon. So maybe if you had any sense you’d find a way to make things work.”

Yeah, right. Anger burned in his chest. This lady clearly prayed on the hopeless, selling promises of futures with no possibility of coming true. A happy union? In what world would he be allowed to marry you? He’d have better luck airbending than changing the way the world worked. Maybe if you both ran away and started over, became the couple that existed here in the Middle District away from expectations. But how long would that last? You’d never agree anyway; and he didn’t want you to. If he had you, it’d be nothing less than all of you. Crown included.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, the future’s a mess. You’ll figure it out, or you won’t. Kiss the pretty girl you love or don’t.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Wonwoo shook his head, shifting on the cushion. “Are we done here?”

Madam Via’s eyes rolled for the umpteenth time and took a sip of her own suddenly steaming tea. “She asked about you.”

That kept Wonwoo in place. “She did?”

“Of course she did.”

“Whatd she ask?”

“I’m not a charity,” she sniffed. “For two more gold I’ll tell you.”

Crazy old snit. Wonwoo rolled to his feet and ducked out of the tent without looking back. 

Of course, you were gone. It really shouldn’t surprise him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he seethed. He shouldn’t have been that angry; not after spotting you barely a few steps away watching the other festival goers dance but Madam Via’s words wove a cord of frustration deep inside him and it boiled into hot vexation. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he clenched it shut.

You took one look at his face and laughed. “Who ruffled your feathers?”

“You were supposed to wait outside the tent.”

“I’m maybe ten feet away. Is it that big of a deal?”

“What if you got lost? Do you know how to get home?”

“I’d figure it out.”

“Before or after getting in trouble with the guards? Again.” Wonwoo burst out, unable to contain himself.

To your credit, you didn’t stomp your foot like he knew you’d like to. Instead, you iced him out completely and focused back on the people skipping around the plaza to the rapid drumbeat.

Happy union my ass.

He hadn’t enjoyed watching from the sidelines as other men led you around the room earlier. He hated it. Especially when Gyan stomped you around the room like an idiot. He hated that he took so much notice of the fact you pointedly refused to look at him until that point, and then again when Char spun you around the dance floor. As much as he didn’t want to dance now, Wonwoo knew this might be the only chance he’d get.

“Do you… do you want to dance?”

“Are you going to yell at me again?”

Wonwoo shook his head and proceeded to forget everything but relief as you took his hand. The bad mood woven into his veins by the fortune teller fell away, flooded with content to replace it. He spun you around and around to the beat of the drums, time fading until it was just you two and the world outside blurred. This was what he wanted; to be the only two people in the world. Together. 

The next dance involved lots of spins and lifts. As with most peasant dances, partners passed around before coming back and each time you turned away from him, Wonwoo’s heart zapped with something as you came back, beaming from ear to ear. 

He decided he’d dance until his legs stopped working if that smile was a reward.

The music swelled, drums and claps increasing in tempo. On the next pass, Wonwoo snagged you around the waist and pulled you into his chest. Whether it was the fire whiskey or all the spinning that made him dizzy, Wonwoo didn’t know; but it didn’t matter when he bent down and kissed your cheek – a fleeting touch of lips against your skin. It wasn’t anything grand, but as soon as he pulled back, you both froze and his face flushed.

“I—” he faltered. There was no explanation strong enough for why he did it. 

Then you rolled up on your toes and kissed him with unmistakable certainty, right there on the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor, not a care who saw. Your mouths fit together like puzzle pieces, your hands wrapped around his neck keeping him close like he’d consider pushing you away. Wonwoo pulled you closer to banish the thought. He didn’t want the heat of pressing you into a wall where no one could see. He wanted the comfort of kissing you out in the open, like any other man in love was allowed to.

Love.

A deafen clap of thunder roared from the sky forced you two apart. Wonwoo jerked back and blinked wildly, pulling you closer in confusion. Something wet hit his face and then again and again as the clouds opened and released thick curtains of rain that soaked you both to the bone in seconds.

Wonwoo grabbed your hand and pulled you through the streets, back towards the palace. The roads cleared thanks to the storm sending everyone inside for cover. He dodged around corners but no one paid attention to a pair of young people running home from a typhoon.

The Noble’s Quarter was dark and Wonwoo knew the guards on patrol would be waiting out the storm at the watch station, waiting for the change in shifts given the late hour. He barreled through the streets with you in tow. Lightning illuminated the streets through the thick sheets of rain but it was muscle memory that guided him back to the statue in the park. He pried open the inconspicuous opening and descended inside, waiting at the bottom for you to join.

One second he was watching you descend the ladder, next he was on his back, cushioning your fall.

“Wonwoo! Are you okay?”

He coughed from your elbow plowed into his stomach.. “What the hell—“

You scrambled up right, sitting on his stomach as your hands caressed his skin, looking for damage. “I’m so sorry! I saw a guard and—“

The rain had matted your hair down to your skull, clung to your lips. He swallowed. Rain rushed outside, a dull hum to match the ring in his ears. You drew water from his hair and he felt the sore spot at the back of his head warmed as you healed the worst of the damage. Wonwoo tried very hard to keep his hands on your waist and not slide them up, pull you down, and kiss you breathless. Your hands traveled down his neck, ghosted over his jaw and made him shiver.

There was a shout from above and you sat up straight, eyes wide.

“We need to get back.”

You both took off down the tunnels, feet pounding against the ground and breath panting loudly. Finally, the familiar passage outside your office rushed up. But you took a last minute turn to a new door Wonwoo had never seen before.

It led to your bedroom.

You waltzed ahead, shrugging off your tunic and stripping to your bindings without a care. Wonwoo had seen you in far less but it didn’t make the roar in his ears any less demanding despite the pain in his back demanding attention. You tossed your clothes back under your bed and turned to him, guiding him to sit while he tried to stare at anything other than the press of your breasts against the silk.

“Does this hurt?” you asked, fingers prodding the tender flesh of his back.

He’d certainly bruise come morning, some lingering soreness if he was lucky. Wonwoo couldn’t find much reason to care about it. Fatigue already blurred the corners of his vision. It’d been such a long night already. If his options were staying awake to find a healer down in the infirmary or going to bed and dealing with the consequences later, he’d trudge down to his room and see to it first thing in the morning. He’d tally it along with all the other wounds he found himself collecting in your presence. “I’m fine.”

“Let me help.”

In the end it was the softness in your eyes that made him acquiesce. In the dark, with the candles and lamps extinguished, the worries that kept him grounded floated away. The rain pounding against the windows lulled his heart. He always slept best when it rained. You disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a pitcher of water.

“Take your shirt off.”

Wonwoo spurted, suddenly completely awake. That was out of the question.

“I can’t heal you through your clothes,” you huffed. 

He swallowed again, remembering the last time you healed him in the field. But this time would be different. He’d let you heal him, maybe kiss you again, and then he’d go to his room down the hall – alone – and pretend it was your hands touching him until he came and fell asleep.

He tugged the soaked shirt over head and closed his eyes.

If he was of sound mind, then the severity of the situation would have him rushing to flee. Alone with the princess, in her bed, with his shirt off and your own clothes crumbled on the floor painted a damning picture. But only the cool relief of the healing water dragged across his spine registered; knotted muscles relaxed, the sting of raw skin dulled and then disappeared under the gentle passes. His eyes closed before leaning forward to give you as much room as possible to continue the hypnotizing pattern.

“Better?” 

You snickered at Wonwoo’s grunt of approval before continuing.

“You’re so tense.” Your palms dug into his shoulders with more force. No longer were they hovering over the skin, now the water provided a wet glide as you massaged the knotted muscles into submission.  

A groan of relief clawed its way out before Wonwoo could swallow it back down. “I’m in charge of a princess that refuses to stay out of trouble.”

“She sounds awful.”

Wonwoo peered over his shoulder to find you focused on healing a cut on his upper arm, a pleased smile spread across your face as the skin knit together in a faint pink line. “She’s not so bad.”

His early arousal stirred just out of reach, stoked into an ember from the fan of your breath against the short hairs at the base of his skull. If he leaned back he would feel your breasts pressed against him, your lips in reach. He wanted to, he really really wanted to. He almost did when you pressed your mouth to his shoulder.

But you pulled away and the cold that rushed into the empty space brought the tiredness he’d ignored all night forward. He could feel the sun just below the horizon; dawn wouldn’t be far off, promising another full day as minder to your meetings and tea parties, listening to entitled nobles fawn over themselves.

Exhausted, Wonwoo slumped forward.

He’d move to the sitting room. All he needed was a minute to find the energy…

You woke shivering. Stripped down to nothing but your under bindings, you tugged the covers tighter, soaking in the pleasant warmth radiating across your back; pushing back into it for more. The sun barely peeked over the horizon, the corners of your room stained dark.

A warm breeze tickled across your shoulder. Odd. Perhaps you forgot to shut the window last night before bed.

It's then you registered a weight across your waist and a rhythmic press against your back in time with that comforting gust of hot, humid air. Consciousness flooded in with each grating moment; until you were awake enough to slap behind you, making contact with something fuzzy and hard. 

A masculine grunt responded, accompanied by a tight squeeze of the arm across your waist, dragging you closer.

Wonwoo.

He nuzzled further into your neck with a sleepy sigh, shifting his leg until his knee pressed between your own.

You considered slapping him again; however, the weariness of last night is too much to overcome for another swing. The consequences of him spending a night in your bed seemed so small next to the relief of his body heat against the cold. Wasn’t his job to protect you? Your greatest threat since he came to the palace was only the lingering cold you felt when he wasn’t around.

You remembered what the fortune teller said last night. 

“Oh dear, Temperance in reverse,” the woman tsk’ed. Her tent was thick with smoky incense, candles burning low to cast the room in shadow.

You eyed the upside down illustration. “What does it mean?”

“Imbalance, struggle, strife. Being pulled in a hundred different directions. There’s conflict between what you want and what you think you can have.”

You can say that again, you thought.

“Maybe something to do with the young man outside?” she continued with an inquisitive brow.

You refused to respond and pulled another card from the spread, laying it next to the first one. A couple wrapped in a warm embrace stared back at you.

“Well, there you have it.”

“Have what exactly?”

“The Lovers. You might be used to making decisions from the head, but you must embrace what your heart wants. A powerful relationship can make the conflict Temperance warns of clearer. Or maybe the relationship itself is causing you confusion.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“And why not? He’s easy enough on the eyes despite the attitude.”

“It's not…there’s nothing going on between us. He wouldn’t—and I can’t—“ you stammered.

“What does your heart want? Think about that and pick the next card.”

Your fingers brushed over the deck, itching to pinch one of the gilded edges and pull it out. You picked the bottom card and laid it down on the table.

“Oh, this is just too easy. The Two of Cups. Embrace your heart. Even if it seems impossible, maybe you’re making things overly complicated.”

It is impossible! you wanted to scream.

As if Madam Via heard your thoughts, her face softened a fraction. “Listen, life is too short not to take advantage of good things. You say it’s complicated? Maybe it is.”

“So what do I do?”

“You do what every person who has ever been in love does: enjoy it while you have it and worry about the future later.”

Worry about the future later…

Maybe the crazy old woman was right. For once in your life, you wanted to enjoy things for what they were in the moment. Like in the warehouse, or against the wall at the market, in the field, in the bath, in the alcove yesterday. Like last night when you danced with Wonwoo and no one cared, not a single soul paid you two attention and he kissed you so infuriatingly close to your mouth before acting like he hadn’t. And when you kissed him after because if he was going to kiss you he needed to do it right. You wanted simple and what you had right now was as simple as it got. Wonwoo asleep in your bed. Wonwoo’s arm tight around your waist. Wonwoo’s cock heavy against the curve of your ass.

There wasn’t anything more simple than stretching against the length of his body, pleased that the tantalizing firmness greeted you with a stretch of his own. Your thighs squeezed on instinct.

You’d seen plenty of men shirtless, through training or tutoring sessions with healers. But seeing men half dressed and feeling the defined muscles so intimately against your back were very different. 

You rolled over to face him, buried your nose against the soft divot of his collarbone and breathed. Sleep tried to claim you again with the gentle rise and fall of his chest but Wonwoo didn’t let you. He was too tempting. Smooth warm skin, soft stomach your nails trace over mindlessly, his own slow breath ghosting against your forehead. You wanted to wrap yourself in him like a blanket and spend the day tucked away. Simple.

The hand around your waist tightened again as you brushed a kiss against his throat. You wanted to kiss him again like last night, when no one was around to offer reminders of how bad an idea it was. Somehow, you knew if you spoke the entire illusion would shatter. All those expectations would rush in; the reasons you shouldn’t want Wonwoo the infuriating way you did – can’t want him. So you didn’t speak. Instead, you feathered more teasing kisses across his shoulder, up his neck, and then a final one on his lips.

Take advantage of the good things. Like how Wonwoo’s hand skated up your back, the pleased groan in response to your nails digging into the crease of his hip bone.

He kissed back, slowly at first, dry chaste passes of his mouth across yours. The kind of kisses you could wake up to every morning without complaint; the inferno of previous encounters completely dormant. You didn’t think about anything else, only the easy way he rolled on top of you for the sake of kissing; tangled your fingers between his own and pressed you further into the mattress. The morning stubble on his chin scratched teasingly along your skin. Your hands acted on their own, cascading down his sides and across his back. The band of his pants brushed the tips of your fingers and you pushed beneath to find more intoxicating heat his body provides.

It was like that for a long time, returning the lazy kisses on your cheeks and chin, nose following the curve of your jaw. But then your legs spread to better accommodate his weight and he was there. The contact stoked you out of sleepy bliss, igniting desperate want. Your hips couldn’t help but curl up slowly, rocking against the length of him pressed right against your bindings.

A million reasons not to do it clouded the air but there was one good reason: you wanted to. And Wonwoo obviously wanted to. What you two did away from prying eyes was a secret you could live with if it meant you got to have at least some part of him.

Wonwoo rolled agonizingly slow between your legs. Each thrust of his sheathed cock pushed tiny mewls from your lips as his trailed further down your neck. He kissed everything he could; the sensitive skin beneath your jaw, the hollow of your throat, down to the seam of your bindings. All while his hands warmed your skin.

He tugged at the knot of your bindings until the silk strips slackened; tracing every newly bare strip of skin with his tongue as you arched and pushed more of your chest into his mouth. 

“Please,” you sighed. You free hand knotted in his hair to give a deliberate tug. “Please.”

Each kiss across your chest and stomach only pushed you closer to the edge of insanity. You coaxed a hand between your legs for the smallest bit of relief, but Wonwoo was already there. He tugged at the small knot keeping the fabric secure until they loosened and then there was nothing between your bodies; you sprawled beneath him completely naked and exposed in the cold sunlight. He mouthed across your thighs, stubble leaving you raw for his tongue to sooth away.

This must be exactly what the maids giggled about over your head. It didn’t seem so funny now that you had it for yourself; the need for him urging you to claw out of your own skin. 

You whined and squirmed under the first tender push of his fingers, parting you for his tongue that followed soon after. The sensation was wholly new and unlike anything you’d felt before. Nothing, not the things you’ve done to yourself or the memorable way Wonwoo fingered you the first time compared to the sweltering glide of his tongue.

“Wonu,” you gasped.

It must be the validation he needed because timid licks became heavy laps across your clit and sucked with enough force you jolted from the bed. Your hips rolled into the intoxicating friction. If you were frustrated before by the incomparable satisfaction of his fingers then this is a whole new level you’d never find again; completely addicting.

He flicked his tongue, fingers curved deep along your inner walls. You were so wet. So embarrassingly wet you’d blush about it if you had the brain power to even consider caring. Wonwoo made sure you didn’t, heady grunts of his own muffled in your core as his hips flexed down into the mattress.

You writhed for it, sweat beading along your skin as instinct took over and every twist of his tongue was met with a grind of your hips along it. Another drag of his mouth and your jaw clenched, legs kicking in an attempt to scramble away but Wonwoo pulled you to him — further down the sheets  — and smothered himself between your legs; rewarding your dry moan with the stretch of another finger. Your eyes went fuzzy but you keep them open because he’s not wearing a shirt and the muscles roping along his spine are too mouth watering to look away.

Fingers itching for something to ground onto, your nails raked through his hair, over his bare shoulders until faint pink lines criss-crossed over pale skin. He moaned again, humped the bed in search for his own pleasure and you sat up on your elbows to watch. 

It's all too much. The first wave drowned you. A squeeze along his fingers, and your hips rocketed off the bed; chasing the rough suck of his lips on your clit. You chanted his name, or something like it, until branded your tongue.

And then it was over. The comedown fizzled through your veins, muscles pliant as they twitched with aftershocks. You didn't — couldn’t — think of anything other than the dull throb and the terrible emptiness inside you as he removed his hand.

Wonwoo peppered more kisses along your stomach and thighs, slow and lingering as you caught your breath.

You pulled at his hair until his face was level enough to kiss, your tongue snaking along his lower lip until he opened his mouth, the taste of yourself evident but not undeterred. He kissed back eagerly as if suddenly you both were more awake. 

Your hand curled into his pants and swallowed a hiss of pleasure as you stroked his cock. You wondered how he would taste, if there was enough time before your maids arrived to kneel between his legs and make him shake and beg like you had; if he’d take the time to teach you exactly how to make him come and let you practice again and again until you were both satisfied.

A prod at his chest with your free hand had him rolling over, lap the perfect seat for you to command him however you saw fit. You kept him locked in a kiss, panting and whining into it as two sets of hands forced his pants down his thighs. He sucked a nipple between his teeth, rougher than before, like he couldn’t get enough of anything. You weren’t any better; jerking him off, grinding against the flexed muscles of his thigh. Wonwoo’s hand cupped yours around his cock, squeezing your grip until it tightened like a vice and fucked himself through it; his stomach collapsed from a sharp gasp.

He was so close, a vision of messy black hair and flushed cheeks beneath you, chest glowing with sweat. An arch of your hips was all it’d take for him to be inside you, filling you, driving away that aching need he’d left since that first night you kissed him. You dove down and lapped at the tender dip of his neck to distract from the foolish idea. 

Your name cracked from his lips, voice low and almost pleading. You were back beneath him in a flash; hands fisted in the sheets as he parted your legs and hooked them around his waist. His cock dug into the softness of your stomach before he moved lower, until the tip nudged your entrance, just breaching as you shifted up to search for more and then…

A sharp rapt at the door shattered the silence, followed by Han’s voice. “Your Highness!”

Wonwoo popped up over you, eyes wide in shock like he hadn’t realized exactly what you both were doing. You shoved him off and rolled from the bed.

“Put your clothes on!” you whispered, words like acid on your tongue. Truly, the last thing you wanted him to do was redress and face the day. You’d much prefer stripping the rest of him and spending the entire day in bed with Wonwoo between your thighs.

However, want as you might, having him in your room was threat enough to both of your reputations, nevermind that you spent the night with him; let him touch without a single protest in ways no one ever had. Almost let him have everything.

Lunging for your robe, you managed to cover enough to avoid suspicion of having Wonwoo in your room. Alone.

You answered the door with too much enthusiasm.

“Your Highness! Wonwoo is—in here?” Han peered over your shoulder to where Wonwoo stood by the window – thankfully – fully dressed. Only the mess of his hair gave inkling to what happened only moments prior, your core still tingled with after effects.

“Yes! Yes, he was helping me with a, um…”

“A bird,” Wonwoo nodded.

“Yes, I slept with the windows open last night to watch the fireworks and woke up to a bird…”

“A big bird!”

“Huge!” you exclaim. “And Wonwoo helped me…get the bird out.”

“Hopefully the poor thing is alright,” Han tutted, approaching the window to look for the imaginary bird she’d never find. 

“It flew right out, perfectly fine,” he rushed to explain.

Han’s shoulders sagged an inch in relief. Apparently, that was enough for her to drop the entire issue of Wonwoo being in your room. “Would Your Majesty like for me to draw a bath? Such stress so early will not serve you well for your meetings.”

“That would be wonderful, Han.”

Wonwoo stood cemented in place as Han disappeared into the bathroom. 

“Shouldn’t you…”

“Right, yeah,” he nodded before striding out the door.

The door to your suite clicked shut with Wonwoo’s departure. Immediately you collapsed into the bed once again, batting away the comforting warmth still lingering from entangled bodies. The pillow you landed face first in still smells like Wonwoo. Like the rain from last night, the powdery smoke that always lingered around him, and the cling of soap. Without thought, you inhaled until your lungs stretched uncomfortably.

So preoccupied, you didn’t hear the pitter patter of Han’s slippers until she stopped at the foot of the bed with a wicked gleam in her eye..

“It was huge, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Out in the seating room, Wonwoo forces his thoughts to the most unpleasant ones he can think of. Hoshi’s sweaty socks, the burn of a thousand fire push ups, freezing showers in the barracks…

He knew it was a bad idea. You had to know it was a bad idea too.

Mingyu lent against the fair wall outside Wonwoo’s room, shaking his head.

“A bird? Really?”

“Shut up,” Wonwoo growled.

“I don’t even need earthbending to tell you're a shit liar. You’re lucky I sent Han in there and not the more chatty servants.”

Wonwoo’s face burned. “I’m not lying.”

“Your shirt is on backwards.”

Wonwoo whipped his head down. His shirt was buttoned and proper but the fact he looked is incriminating enough.

“Whatever you two are not doing, I recommend really not doing it because she’s going to marry one of those princes and next time it might not be someone as gullible as Han who catches you.”

“We weren—”

“Those councilmen are looking for any reason to challenge the line of succession. If it looks like YN can’t control herself – like she let a man below her station compromise her – then her marriage prospects go down. Way down. As in not getting married.”

Mingyu was right. Sneaking you out last night was a risk. A risk he’d been willing to take at the time but a risk nonetheless. But what happened this morning was dangerous, to you, to him. If Han hadn’t interrupted, what would be happening right now? Would you be welcoming Wonwoo between your legs? He’d gotten carried away, forgotten the expectations you carried and why feeling you around him was a horrible idea. And if Han hadn’t knocked? If she stumbled in like a servant was meant to, then what? 

Would she simply have turned a blind eye to her sovereign welcoming her guard between her legs like an eager lover? 

“The Queen invited you for an audience this morning. Wash up and get dressed. You stink.”

“Did she say why?”

“Yeah, I ask her to explain every decision she makes.” Mingyu rolled his eyes. “Be ready in an hour. One of the maids will get you.”

“What about—”

“I’m on babysitting duty today.”

Mingyu left his room and Wonwoo contemplated drowning himself in the bath. 

If the Queen knew what he’d been up to then she had endless ways to ruin his life. His mind wandered wild through the possibilities as he washed up. It seemed no matter how hard he scrubbed his face, your scent and taste clung to his senses; the sweet sound of your voice gasping his name, the wet heat of you on his cock. 

Even the degenerate acts of the morning hadn’t outweighed the comfort of waking up with you in his arms, the gentle kisses across his chest that nearly convinced him he was still dreaming. Anything after that was beyond the realm of reality as far as he was concerned. 

Whatever the Queen knew, or suspected, Wonwoo decided what he had with you was worth the risk. He enjoyed the time he was privileged enough to be granted, the short opportunity to love you and be your friend. Now he’d have to pay up. And if the cost was his life, so be it.

Wonwoo liked rules. The palace was full of them, some more exasperating than others but they kept him from losing his mind trying to figure out how to act. 

Rule one: under no circumstances was it okay to touch the princess.

Rule two: do not speak unless spoken to.

Wonwoo at least had a chance to abide by the second one. Maybe it would earn him clemency for breaking the first one so recklessly.

“Captain Jeon, sit please.”

The Queen perched on a cushion in the center of the Azure Chamber. Candles and lanterns kept the space warm from the storm raging against the windows, fighting to break in. Even the deafening thunder is nothing compared to the crash of his pulse flooding his ears. There were no servants along the walls or bustling back from the table to serve the queen. She was utterly alone and Wonwoo remembered how you cornered Galin the same way.

Spirits help him.

Wonwoo sunk to the cushion across from her, stomach sinking deeper into the floor. He folded his hands in his lap, head bowed. It was easier to maintain bravado in the privacy of his room. In front of her, he felt like a scolded child waiting for judgment. 

“Tea?”

He nodded mutely. 

She gave a dry laugh. Through his eyelashes, Wonwoo saw her knobby hands spoon tea leaves into the porcelain cups as she talked. “You can speak, I won’t take your head for it.”

Not detecting a trap yet, Wonwoo answered. “Yes, Your Majesty. Tea would be great.”

Steam curled above the cups, a thin curtain between the two sides of the table. The queen seemed to appraise him and without realizing, Wonwoo unfurled his hunched shoulders and sat up straighter. 

“What do you think of my granddaughter?”

This is it. A clear trap so she could banish him. 

Wonwoo kept his eyes on the tea cup in his hands. “She will be a great queen, Your Majesty.”

“I have no doubt about that but what do you think about her? Not as queen but as a person.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’ve had dozens of men sit in front of me and wax poetically about my granddaughter and her virtues. She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, she’s patient—” 

Wonwoo snorted and immediately flushed with panic.

“You disagree?”

“I think…” He risked looking up at her and found her lips quirked in amusement. It gave him the confidence to speak freely. “If that’s all they can compliment then they haven’t been paying good enough attention.”

“Now why do you say that?”

“She's beautiful but she’s as stubborn as a camel elephant. She is intelligent but she’s aggravating.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t listen. Her patience only lasts until the tip of her nose.”

The queen stared at him, surprised by his honesty.

“What else do you notice about my granddaughter?” 

“She’s smart, caring. People respect her. Maybe not the nobles but the staff do. Even in the,” he trailed off. The queen already knew about the nights out of the palace but he felt like those moments - when his friends sung your praises after the fight in the warehouse, when the fortune teller grew fond of you immediately - those were private. 

“Even where, Captain Jeon?” She leveled him with an expectant look. “When you snuck her out of the palace and into the city?”

He could have denied it; spun some story about how he had no idea the princess snuck out right under his nose, no knowledge of the maze of secret passageways beneath the palace. Wonwoo sat up straighter and decided if he was going to go down, he’d do it with dignity. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She returned the porcelain tea cup in her hand to the lacquered tray, peering at Wonwoo with a smirk. “At least you have honor. Tell me, how did the citizens react to their princess in disguise.” 

“The people in the Middle Districts didn’t know her but they liked her. She earned their respect without them knowing who she was.” He didn’t admit he liked you the moment he laid eyes on you, before he knew your name, or how fierce of a competitor you were; he liked you more after. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“I heard she did quite the number on you in the warehouse as well.”

“I—” Wonwoo silenced himself by taking a too large gulp of very hot tea.

“Captain Jeon, do you think anything happens in the palace that I don’t know about? I believe you witnessed her meeting with Galin.”

“You knew he was stealing and did nothing?”

“Who do you suppose whispered in his ear to approach my granddaughter about a new investment? You’ve met the man. He’s not bright enough to tie his own pants let alone run a scheme. It is better to keep the arrogant ones on a shorter leash than the rest.”

“So you set her up?”

“My granddaughter is stubborn and refuses to take the easiest path. Some lessons must be learned the hard way. She needed to learn not to take their word at face value.”

“But why?”

“The royal court is like a poisonous garden, some of the most unassuming plants are the deadliest. She needed to be tested and I believe she would have failed if not for you.” 

He sat speechless.

“Finicky thing, water. It isn’t unyielding like earth, but it’s stubborn in its own way. You can’t keep it where it doesn’t want to be. No matter how you try to contain it, it will find a way around any obstacle. Water can be patient, slowly cutting the path it wants over years and years. But it can also be unwilling and destructive.” She looked to the dark windows, lightning reflecting off the panes. “My granddaughter needed to learn when to act and when to lay in wait for the right moment. At this very moment the nobles are in a frenzy because Galin’s meeting with her. They don’t know what was discussed but they know his grandson no longer resides in the temples his family has learned firebending at for generations. They know his daughters have returned to his estate in the countryside. Her actions have rippled across the court.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Oh, quite the contrary. I think she did a wonderful job taking advantage of that old idiot. There are a few nobles that respect her already. The ones that don’t are close friends of Galin’s and are afraid of her.” 

“Good.”

“And you love her.”

“Yes, but—“ Wonwoo choked. There was honesty and there was stupidity and he feared he crossed the narrow line. “I didn’t mean…”

“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. There were hundreds of reasons not to pursue him and I was too afraid to pursue what I really wanted. I was afraid the nobles would not respect or fear me if I chose love over my duty. It’s one of the greatest regrets of my life.”

“But the king?” Wonwoo trailed off. The queens face grew fond, as if remembering the late king.

“I learned to love my husband and we grew very fond of each other,” she admitted. “But I don’t want my granddaughter to grow fond of a man when she has the opportunity to avoid the mistakes I made and marry a man she loves.”

She was talking about him. You loved him. Or, at least, the Queen thought so. And she was on his side. The queen, the one person with the power to make things work, wanted him to be with you. It didn’t feel real.

For a moment Wonwoo thought you wouldn’t appreciate being left out of such an important conversation. If he wanted to be with you, marry you, then the first person he should’ve spoken with about it was you. He imagined the anger, the hopefully empty threats to refuse given he didn’t ask you if you even wanted to marry him. But he also realized it was a good thing he didn’t because if he knew you wanted him completely – entirely – and there wasn’t a way to give you that, he’d never live with the disappointment.

“Tell me what to do.”

The queen pressed her hands to the table. There was a loose family resemblance but it was obvious in the raise of her chin and the stubborn tilt of her brow  “The tournament for her hand starts tomorrow. In all honesty, I find it barbaric but the nobles respect tradition even if it’s a formality.”

Wonwoo knew about the tournament vaguely. Eligible royalty would declare themselves interested by competing, the winner married you. But Wonwoo wasn’t royal.  “I can’t compete. I don’t have a title. I don’t have anything.”

“Nowhere in the rules does it require competitors to be titled. I believe, in my most recent reading this morning, it said competitors only need to be in good standing with the crown. Since I am the crown and I like you, I’d say that’ll do the trick. Besides, you don’t need to prove you are as good as those brats. You need to be better and based on Aiko’s appraisal of you, I’m confident you’ll succeed.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Do you love my granddaughter?”

Wonwoo answered without hesitation. “Yes.”

“Enough to marry her? To commit your life not just to her but to the kingdom?”

Then, Wonwoo hesitated. He knew he loved you, that he wanted to be with you. But did he want to rule a country? Live his life on display for the world to see? With a silver crown balanced precariously on his head?

“It’s a lot to ask. And it won’t be easy. Many of the nobles will object, even ones who I’d consider friends. But I’m quite fond of change. And you might be what this kingdom needs.”

Was he ready to help rule a country? He didn’t have the education or the money the others had; didn’t possess the connections from generations of high society. What could Wonwoo offer you that no other man could? What could he give you beyond himself?

But he remembered those times you sought him out in a crowd. When you drowned in the weight of responsibilities, he managed to pull you back above the surface. When you rushed ahead, he pulled you back. And when you didn't let anyone see the true you - you trusted Wonwoo to see and understand.

The only thing Wonwoo could give you was a sanctuary to ease your burdens.

Maybe that was enough.

“I’ll do it.”

You hid in the farthest edges of the garden, where the bristle grew in thick unkempt patches and the hedges nearly reached the sky. The worst of the rain had given way to a steady hammering, clouds thick enough the moon couldn’t shine through. Your shoes were ruined; caked with mud. The saturated ground refused to swallow more water, puddles the size of swimming pools spanning from one side of your escape to the other. Wind whipped cheeks burned from each stinging drop of rain and the warm tears you couldn’t stop. It was dull knowledge at the back of your consciousness. 

Your heart laid heaving at your feet, half of it left in your room with Wonwoo. The other half still sitting in your chest ached for him too. Neither part belonged to you and you don’t know when it happened; when Wonwoo stole your heart and left you missing him even when he was within arms reach.

Or maybe you gave it to him that first night you snuck down to the warehouses and watched match after match for hours, only paying attention when Wonwoo was at the center of it. Or in the market when he saved you and didn’t have to. In the forest when he treated you like an equal. Maybe you chipped a small part away for him each time and now there was nothing left; nothing except for the lonely void for him to fill in ways he never could. 

But it didn’t matter. What you felt wasn’t important, whatever it was couldn’t come true. There wasn’t a magic wand to wave and fix everything that was broken. What could you do? What could you do when there was no way to be with the only person you ever wanted?

You wanted to find Wonwoo and demand an answer; shake him until all the pieces fell into place. 

However, your grandmother swept him into a meeting and kept him all day. None of the servants would tell you where they were and even when you discovered their location the guards wouldn’t budge. You found yourself pacing like a caged tiger, back and forth in front of the doors; hours dragged on and no one emerged so the gardens offered a respite from the anxiety. 

Dread filled its place.

You felt the rain all around. Everything it touched dully tickled at your senses. That’s why you weren’t surprised when Wonwoo finally approached after spending fifteen minutes watching you from the archway. 

“You’ll catch your death out here.”

“How horrible,” you said. You kept your eyes glued to the pond at your feet, how the surface rippled wildly from the rain. “What do you want?”

Wonwoo appeared in front of you, kneeling in the mud at your feet, only an arms reach away and yet so much further. “I’m seeking an audience with Your Highness.”

“Didn’t you spend all day with my grandmother?” You didn’t even attempt to hide the hurt in your tone. The last day of your freedom and he spent it locked away from you. 

“Unfortunately, she couldn’t answer my question.” He’s soaked to the bone, the crisp lines of his uniforms limp from the weight of water. You’re at home in a storm like these. Wonwoo looked woefully out of place.

You swallowed thickly. “And what is your dilemma?”

“I'm in love with the queen-to-be. And I'm inquiring if she loves me too.”

The tears came hot and fast; you tried to blink them back but it was useless. Your head tilted back slightly, inviting more rain to sting on your face;  they mixed with the tears washing down your face.

“I…” Your voice cracked. Wonwoo leveled his gaze with your own, searching for something. The mist of the rain blurred the space between you. “Of course I do and try as I might, I can’t figure a way out of it.”

An eternity passed in silence. Wonwoo watched you, the pathetic sight of red rimmed eyes and soaked clothes. He didn’t shy away from the ugliness you felt. He leaned closer, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, as if testing the waters. You let him.

“What if I had a way?”

“Wonwoo…” you sighed and looked away. You couldn’t bear to look at the desperate longing in his eyes; or how it mirrored your own heart.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He moved closer,  hands resting on your thighs. You felt everything through your dress. His hands are almost unbearably hot even in the cold rain.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbye.”

The rain fell harder. Deafening. You exploded with it, solemn tears turning into angry ones. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? After tomorrow this ends.” You motioned towards your hands. “I won’t have you standing next to me if I can’t have all of you. I won’t. I won’t do it.”

You’d been lulled into a false sense of security the past week. Dealing with reality in the daylight and having him in the shadows and the quiet dark of the night. You fooled yourself to believe it was enough, at least for the time. But you had to marry and your husband – no matter how forgiving – would never tolerate your closeness with Wonwoo; you wouldn’t be in their shoes. 

Wonwoo didn’t let you hide from him. He cupped your face, forced you to look at him but you shut your eyes and refused; pressed his forehead to yours so his breath ghosted over your lips with his next words. “If you could marry me, would you?” 

You wanted to scream It doesn’t matter! It didn’t matter that you loved him. It didn’t matter if you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t have him. The world worked in absolutes and this was one of them.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s impossible. Why even—”

“I didn’t ask what was impossible. I asked if you’d marry me.”

You didn’t hesitate to finally open your eyes and meet his brown ones. “Yes.”

“Then trust me,” he asked softly. Begging.

“What exactly did my grandmother say to you?”

Wonwoo blanched, blinking as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. 

“I—We have a plan. You’re not going to like it…”

“But?”

“She told me not to tell you.”

You exploded from the bench, crowding down on Wonwoo.  “Are you serious? You expect me to blindly follow whatever plan you made with her and I don’t even get to know what it is”

“It has to be done a certain way.” Wonwoo stood and swept you into his arms. There was no one out here to see, no one stupid enough to catch an early death. Besides you two. “Just trust me. Please?”

You sank into him, savoring the comforting warmth he brought with him everywhere. You traced the hem of his collar with soft fingers. You did trust him. It wasn’t natural for you to put your faith in many people but time and time again Wonwoo showed you he was a good man. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work I’m going to drown you.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he whispered into your hair. “Now will you come inside? It’s disgusting out here.”

Back in the seclusion of your apartment, you pinned Wonwoo to the couch, commanded his lap and sucked the rain from his lips. You lingered, sunk into the warmth of his hands tenderly tracing your back; the same comfort of a warm summer breeze softly brushing your skin even in the chill of damp clothes. You both lingered there. Tucked away from the rest of the palace, an unspoken promise lingering in the air. You kissed him until the aching in your chest dulled.

You didn’t know what the morning would bring but you trusted Wonwoo. 

And that was enough.

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Blow by Blow | 0.6 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. 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, oral (m receiving)

“He’s in a good mood this morning.” You comment. Bradley’s grinning, light on his feet as he dances around the ring. He lets Jake draw closer to him and steps quickly out of the way, taunting him in his every move. Your lips quirk up slightly.

He’s not even trying. If he wanted to, he could’ve caught Jake in the ribs just there. Instead, he quick-steps back and sways his body to the music in the background. Steve Winwood’s Higher Love is blasting over the speakers, filling the gym with upbeat lyrics. Bradley dances, unfazed as Jake puts his guard back up and steps towards him — he sidesteps, slams his glove into Jake’s ribs and continues to sway, mouthing the words.

Jake rolls his eyes and steps into Rooster’s space just as quickly.

“Uhg… help.” Mickey grunts under you.

Your eyes widen, looking down quickly and remembering yourself all of a sudden. A soft gasp slips your lips as you catch the bar seconds before it hits his chest. Your combined strength is enough to lift the bar and set it back on the rack, saving him from being crushed.

“Shit, sorry.”

Mickey sits up quickly, brows furrowed, dark curls sticking to his forehead, mock-betrayal on his face. Your cheeks burn as you shoot a quick glance back to Rooster and find him looking right at you. Shit, he absolutely caught that exchange.

“Who, Rooster?” Mickey pants, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm. You turn your gaze away and give a small nod. “Yeah, he got a fight confirmed this morning. It’s his first gig in like eight months — that’s why he’s showing off.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders back and grabs his water bottle from the ground.

“Why hasn’t he fought in eight months?” You ask, leaning forwards to rest your hands against the bar, tilting your head as you watch Rooster and Jake sparring. Nat always takes it easy on you, which you should probably appreciate, but it’s interesting seeing Jake and Rooster fight — because neither one of them is taking it easy on the other.

Mickey gulps down around half of his bottle’s worth of water and then settles down with a sigh, his skin glistening and sticky under the gloomy white overhead lighting. He pushes himself up from the bench and glances across at Rooster, then grimaces.

“Mm… I probably shouldn’t say. Ask him, he might tell you.” He shrugs his shoulders and then lifts his arms out, flexing his biceps. “So, do you see a difference?”

You smile at him and nod, patting his side as you step past him. “I see that your fly is down.”

He looks down quickly, smile faltering — then realizes that he’s wearing gym shorts, there isn’t a fly for it to even be down. He groans and turns to tell you off. You’re already wandering away, walking over to the ring and resting your hands against the ropes.

“Ugh, fuck.” Bradley grunts as Jake catches him in the stomach.

“Keep dancing, bird boy.” Jake taunts, stepping back to put some space between them again. Now doubled-over, Bradley is at your eye level. His eyes glint mischievously as he catches sight of you, smiling at him from the ringside.

“What’s up, Bambi? — Wanna jump in?” Bradley offers, lips quirking up into a confident smirk as he stands upright again, running his fingers over the affected area of his toned stomach. He begins towards you, Jake turns in interest to watch the conversation.

You smile softly up at him. “I wanted to ask if you were free later.

Jake’s brows raise slightly, he glances across at Bradley and then back at you. Bradley wets his lips with his tongue and takes a step closer, leaning onto the ropes.

“Like a date?”

Jake almost scoffs at the certainty in Rooster’s voice. He knows that he’s cockiness embodied himself, but he still finds himself amused at how sure Rooster is.

You smile softly, then shake your head. “Like the interview that you owe me — you’re the only one I’m waiting for.”

He almost sighs. Instead, he glances quickly back at Jake and shrugs his shoulders, then checks the clock on the wall. “Uh — if you let me finish up down here, I can stop by upstairs when I’m done?”

Jake does scoff this time. He has said some pretty forward stuff to girls in his time, but watching Bradley invite himself up to your apartment is just embarrassing.

“Well, are you busy right now?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as he stands on the canvas. His brows furrow.

“Kinda.” He answers back, adjusting the gloves on his wrists. You frown at him.

“Mav said that you have to do the interview before tomorrow, he wants the website to—“

“Mav isn’t my boss.” Bradley reminds you. It’s swift, calm and it shuts you down in four syllables. You close your mouth, still looking up at him. “I said I’ll stop by later.”

Swallowing softly, you nod your head. A few sheepish steps back away from the ring, you’re still nodding at him dumbly. Perhaps you should apologise. You don’t. “Okay. Thanks.”

Jake watches you turn and walk away, shaking his head softly.

“What?” Rooster frowns.

“I just don’t get how you can look at that sweet face and be such an ass,” Jake answers amusedly, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. He takes a step back and brings up his guard as they get ready to go again. “It’s like being mean to—“

“I said I’d do her interview!” Bradley defends himself, taking stance and shrugging his shoulders. They should really be focusing more than this with the fight coming up, but he really doesn’t see what he did wrong.

Bradley takes his time finishing up his training. Fashionably late or whatever. He knocks on your apartment door and waits, clearly learning from his past experiences with Tank.

You answer the door in another cute patterned sundress, having ditched the workout gear after your shower.

“Bob asked if Tank could come downstairs to play.” Rooster explains, trying to finger through the mess of his curls. Headgear always fucks up his hair.

“Oh. Sure — let me just-“

“He’s at the bottom of the stairs waiting. She said it’s okay!” Rooster relays back.

You smile and lean past Bradley to look at your friend. He grins and waves as Tank brushes past Bradley with a small growl, and then pads happily down the stairs towards him.

Rooster settles down onto the couch, you sit directly in front of him, resting on the coffee table. The interview begins.

“How would you describe yourself in three words?” You ask.

He takes a while to consider it. You stretch your legs out in front of the coffee table and look up at the dust on the ceiling fan — you should clean that. Even after eleven full rotations of the ceiling fan, he still hasn’t presented you with the slightest hint of answer.

“Is there a right answer to this?” He asks back, his eyes on you. One of his arms is draped along the back of the couch, the other resting against his thigh. He nudges his foot into yours and pretends that it’s an accident.

“I guess not.” You shrug. His lips quirk as he raises his brows at you.

“You guess not?”

“Well, there are good answers and bad answers, don’t you think?” You reply, not really feeding into his game as much as he would like you to. Parting his knees further, his body mass stretches over more of your couch unapologetically.

“So, what are the good answers?” Rooster challenges you.

“I can’t tell you that until you’ve answered, otherwise it won’t be genuine.” Professional, polite, holding back from just calling him an ass and making him answer — you probably have a future in journalism.

“What’s this for, again?” He taunts. You both know that he knows exactly what this is for. He’s just being pedantic.

“A meet the staff page. I want people to know your faces, know who they’re coming in to see. It’ll make this place seem less… scary.”

“This place is scary?” He’s outright avoiding the question at this point. You sigh, giving a small shrug of your shoulders.

“It can be.”

He nods his head. He doesn’t understand what you mean — he was raised in this place and the only thing scary about it is that he’ll probably be here for the rest of his life too.

“So… three words?” You remind him gently.

Rooster sits at a crossroads in your living room. He has two options before him, to sit in the afternoon sun and annoy you further, or to just give in and answer your silly little questions.

“Organised, loyal… handsome.” He decides finally, smiling across at you. The second time, perhaps another accident, he nudges his foot into yours.

“Jake said the same thing.” You answer immediately, giving a soft chuckle as you turn your attention towards your notepad.

This goes on for a while. The back and forth. The excessive way he spreads his limbs out over the couch just to remind you that he’s a big guy. The bullshit answers.

You check the time on your phone, then squint at him seriously. An hour has passed and you’ve gotten him to answer only four out of your ten questions.

“Why haven’t you fought in eight months?”

His eyebrows raise calmly, biceps flexing as he crosses them over his chest. He stares back at you. “Is this part of the interview?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah.”

“Who said I haven’t fought in eight months?” He asks you, sitting forward in the seat and leaning closer to you.

“Couple of people, actually,” You lie to him, which isn’t untrue, they would have let it slip eventually. It doesn’t seem to be a secret. “What’s up with that?”

His eyes are russet under the afternoon sun streaming in through the window to his right, bright and shining. Somehow colder under this warm light than they had been the other night by the arena.

His eyes trail, slowly looking down and then back up over your form. He sits closer again, leaning his broad form forwards and resting his hands against his knees.

You know instantly that you’ve probably overstepped, but he was being an asshole too.

“I got suspended from competing for six months.” Sitting so close that every breath you take is the cedarwood, cypress and nutmeg of his cologne, you’ve got a front row seat to how he feels about that.

He doesn’t give much away, but you can tell that he accepts the judgment. He knows that he did something wrong — that’s good, right? — that he knows he screwed up and maybe feels bad about it.

“Then after that, no one would fight me for two months because of what happened before.” He doesn’t have to reach far to be touching you, his arm barely stretches before his hand is tucked around your knee, stroking at the curve of the joint with his thumb.

You keep your eyes on him, studying his features, looking for a crack in that exterior for just a moment.

“What did you do to get suspended?” You shift closer with him, his fingertips smoothing against your skin, staying below the thigh, near the knee.

His lips quirk softly. It’s clear that he’s not going to answer you from the get go.

“You ask a lot of questions.” He comments.

“This is an interview.” You quip. His eyes roll as he throws himself back against the couch, chuckling dryly — bested again. When he looks at you again, you’re smiling softly.

You probably wouldn’t be if he told you what he had done. With the way you’re looking at him, he debates not keeping it from you. His thumb strokes softly over your bare skin, eyes on yours.

He thinks he’s got you right where he wants you, you can see it in that mischievous look In his eye. You reach out and rest your hand against his knee.

This time, instead of looking at each other, you both watch your fingers move along his skin. At first, tracing small patterns on his knee, similar to what he’s doing to you. Innocent enough.

His eyes dart up to your face, then back down, as your fingertips smooth along his skin, brushing well past his knee and dangerously close to the hem of his shorts. His brows scrunch softly.

Kissing him down by the marina two days ago, that was one thing — he doesn’t think that you’re bold enough to do this. So, he calls your bluff. He parts his knees further and sits back comfortably against the couch.

Rooster is an attractive guy and he knows it. More attractive than Jett was, undeniably. Tanned skin, broad shoulders — but a soft smirk on his face that just makes you want to prove him wrong.

“Everyone else knows why you were suspended?” You ask, raising your brows at him as your nails skim along the inside of his thigh. Rooster watches your fingers move, feeling the delicate touch on his warm skin.

“Sure, but I didn’t tell them.” He answers calmly. It would be easy enough to tell you the full truth right now, it’s just a couple of words. I beat the shit out of a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth. But, your ex-boyfriend was a violent prick and Bradley doesn’t want you to look at him like that.

The others were all at the fight that night, Rooster doesn’t really have a choice about them knowing or not knowing. You’re different.

You tilt your head just slightly. He looks at you again. You pout your lips in consideration, watching your fingers breach under the grey confines of the left leg of his shorts. Bradley glances down and then back up.

“Is this the first time you’ve been suspended?” The question seems to come out of nowhere, and Bradley almost winces when you ask it because he knows that his chances are getting lower and lower. He sighs softly and shakes his head.

“No, not the first time.” He replies calmly.

You lift your gaze to look at him through your lashes, fingers stilling against his skin. “Then, I think I should probably know what you did. Right?”

“Broke the rules,” He shrugs his shoulders softly, hoping that you’ll accept that answer but knowing that you won’t. Your lips purse, hinting at a slight frown. “It’s a long story, but my last fight kind of turned into a real fight instead of a boxing match, it was a mess. That’s all.”

“Did you hurt him?” You ask.

Rooster’s hand skims from your knee to the edge of the coffee table that you’re sitting on, fingers curling around the underside of it. “Yeah.”

“Badly?”

He shrugs his shoulders once more, “He recovered, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why?” You press.

“If you ask Nat, she’ll tell you it’s because I was dropped on my head too much as a baby.” Bradley tries to spin this back, make it light hearted again. The meekness in your voice worries him.

Your face doesn’t soften. “I’m asking you.”

“He said some stuff that I didn’t like and I got angry.” Bradley says quietly. You sit back, straightening your spine and crossing your ankles. It’s not quite a recoil, it’s something much more low-key than that, but it has the same effect.

Bradley’s brows knit together as he opens his mouth to defend himself.

“Okay — it’s deeper than him just saying something I didn’t like, I want you to know that,” Bradley rushes out, he can tell that the suddenness of it surprises you. There it is, the gap in that hard exterior. He wants you to like him.

He rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “There’s kind of a history with this place, y’know, some stuff that went down between my dad and Mav and some of the guys in the circuit. People giving me a hard time for stuff that happened before I was born. It’s — just, complicated.”

“Did it make you feel better after you hurt him?” You ask softly, fingertips coming to life on his skin. He glances down as you trail your fingers back along the curve of his knee.

It takes him a moment to consider what you have asked. At a base level, yes, it felt good to make that asshole finally stop running his mouth. He definitely didn’t like the consequences that came after, but that’s not what you’re asking him. Did he feel better after he beat that guy up? — No.

He remembers the bruising around his knuckles. He sees it every day in the way that Mav looks at him know — Mav has barely spoken to him since it happened.

“No. Didn’t solve anything, really.” Bradley mumbles.

Just like with the first question you had asked him, there were good and bad answers to this question. The answer he gave is satisfying enough.

He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forwards, head hung slightly to watch your fingers on his thigh. You sit forwards slowly, leaning in and pressing a delicate kiss to his warm cheek.

He looks up, you’ve surprised him again. He was sure you were going to ask him to leave.

You kiss his lips. He rushes, reaching for your skin, ready to pull you against him. Instead, you stay where you are, both perched on the edges of your seat, leaning forwards to kiss. Fingers smoothing softly over the scar on his cheek, you hum gently against his lips, contented.

Impatient, fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. He’s pulling you forwards, urging you closer until you’re on the couch, straddling his hips. Knees on either side of his clothed torso, you match his energy, curling your fists into his shirt and pulling him into you. Deepening the kiss, his hands in your hair, your tongue running rampant against his own.

The taste of mint passes between the two of you. His is spearmint, yours is peppermint. It’s a quick and shocking revelation that you had both been planning for this kiss to happen.

His fingers curl around your hips, tugging you forwards, grinding himself up against your core. The second that the bulge in his shorts touched you, you stiffen. It’s hard to miss.

“You alright?” Rooster murmurs, pulling back brows scrunching in slight concern. You look over his features, then nod hurriedly. His brows scrunch tighter together as you push yourself up and away from his lap.

There’s a calm silence as you settle between his legs, pressing your plush lips to the inside of his knee. His tongue darts out to wet his lips with his tongue as he settles back against the couch. You just keep on surprising him.

Surprise after surprise as you tease your mouth along the inside of his thighs until he’s rock hard and straining against the inside of his gym shorts. Even after that, when his shorts are down by his ankles and his eyes are closed in anticipation, you don’t give him what he wants.

Instead, your nails rake softly along his sensitive skin, followed by your lips. Open-mouthed, gentle kisses onto the most tender parts of his skin.

When you finally work up the confidence to curl your fingers into the sides of his boxers and pull them down, your breathing shudders. So relieved that his sigh almost becomes a whine, he readily lifts his hips for you to guide his boxers down. Both his boxers and his shorts pool around his ankles as he tugs his shirt up and over his head.

He’s so hard it seems painful, the head of his dick flushed the same way that his cheeks do when he gets embarrassed.

You’ve talked a lot with your girl friends, and you had known that Jett was around average — nothing special, but Bradley is. Before now, you’ve never seen a dick that looks heavy in the same way his does.

Admittedly, you’ve thought about this a couple of times since you had come across Bradley on the floor of your apartment in those damn near sheer white boxers of his.

Sitting nestled between strong legs, warm, tanned skin. He rests his arm along the back of the couch, letting you look as much as you’d like. It’s been a long time since he was insecure about his body.

You sit forwards and look up at him. Rooster considers for a moment whether he should stop you or not. The second your fingers curl around the base of his cock, his mind is made up.

Your warm tongue tracing his dick up and down, eyes on him for reassurance as his thumb strokes in time against your cheek. Your lips wrap expertly around the tip, sucking on it like a lollipop, the tip of your tongue tracing over the slit.

His breathing quietens, brows furrowing as he watches you. It’s good, it feels good — he’s had better, but he probably shouldn’t have been expecting too much from a meek little mouse like you anyway.

Rooster hums softly in approval when you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft. Testing the waters, you skim your hand along his thigh. His head rests back against the couch as your main focus shifts to his balls.

Your tongue lingers on the head, darting over his slit to collect the precum that had seeped out. It makes him dizzy, the needy way you lick at his cock, the experienced way that you touch him.

Everything after becomes less about what you should be doing, and more about his response to it. He pants hard when you pull back and pepper kisses along his shaft. He groans loudly when your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re looking up at uk with those doe-eyes, all brimming with tears. He jolts when your nose presses into his thigh as you tease open-mouthed kisses along his balls.

It’s good. So fucking good. He’s lost track of what he’s saying in his head and what he’s saying out loud, unsure of if he should slide a hand into your hair. He doesn’t need to, somehow you’re right where he needs you, right when he needs it.

Rooster shudders, fingers curling into the couch cushion as he involuntarily bucks his hips, feeling your throat squeeze around him. “Shit, fuck —- I’m gonna cum, I’m — I’m—“

You look up at him, drool-soaked lips quirking at the corners. He’s pretty when he’s right on the edge like this. Knuckles whitening, muscles shaking under the intensity. Head thrown back, lips parted, deep groans spilling from his lips.

His body jolts, fists curling hard into the sheets. Every aching muscle in his body contracts, tightening and trembling as his orgasm tears through his nerves. He comes with a strained groan. His dick twitches against your tongue before releasing his load down your throat, leaving you with little choice but to swallow. Luckily for him, that was the plan anyway.

You guide him through his high, not stopping until he’s a trembling wreck under your fingertips. Rooster grunts, mouth hanging open, brows furrowed tightly as the aftershocks of his orgasm tear through his nerves.

Finally, you sit back on your knees and wipe the spit from your chin with the back of your hand.

He swallows, taking in a shaking breath and pushing the base of his palm into his eye socket, trying to make those white splotches in his vision go away. You wipe the smudged mascara from under your eyes.

His legs are still shaking as he pulls his shorts and boxers back up in one move, draping an arm over his eyes. “Fuck, where did you learn how to do that?” — it’s a stupid question, but he just can’t imagine that this kind of expertise came from your ex.

“I read about it.” You answer softly, smoothing your fingers tenderly along the hair on his thighs. His brows furrow as he feels you move to sit down beside him.

He turns his head. Every line on his face deepens as he scrunches his features up, lost. “You… read about it? — Like in a book?”

“Something like that,” You answer him, trailing your fingers over the ridges in his bicep. Your gaze flickers up to meet his. “Was it okay?”

Rooster’s brows lift. He chuckles breathlessly and pulls the covers up over his waist, then brings his hand up to rub at his eye. “Okay? — It was — that… Wow.”

You smile softly at him. “Can I ask you for a favour?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m going to take care of you. Just, let my hands stop shaking.” Rooster breathes out, still recovering as he squeezes your knee. You press your knees together and shift back.

“Oh, no, not that. I’d prefer it if we left it at that today.”

He turns his head and frowns — Bradley has never not reciprocated in his life, and he doesn’t intend to start now. “But…”

“You can make it up to me another time, just not today… if that’s okay.” There she is again. That meek little mouse. As if you didn’t just give him the most earth-shattering blowjob. He shakes his head and sits up.

“So what’s the favour?” He asks calmly.

“I want to do a fight like you guys do. Like a real one.”

….

---

conor_o_donohoe ig story 19.7.2023

Jere with This Kind of Look on Him Compilation

(also known as: "I love his bowl cut, as well, but I go even more crazy when his hair is messy—or slicked back—like that and I decided to make it everyone's problem." )

Part #1 | Part #2/?

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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wayfaring stranger | prologue | rhett abbott x reader

Next Chapter | Masterlist

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

…

Rhett’s been saying that he’s going to get out of here for about as long as he can remember. Even before he was angry enough to say it out loud, the promise had been scrawled with adolescent lettering, held within the pages of a leather bound journal that had been a gift from his grandfather.

There were days that Rhett really meant it. Some days he meant it more than others. Some days, it was more of an affirmation than a plan. Leaving the courthouse on that day in April, looking his childhood sweetheart in the eye and telling her that he wasn’t coming back — that seemed more binding than any of the words he had told her before.

The sign looked bigger in his dreams. The Welcome to Wyoming, Forever West, planted in the dirt on the border of Montana — when Rhett had dreamed about covering it in dirt as it grew smaller in his rear view mirror, it had looked bigger. It had meant more.

His blue eyes watch the sign grow smaller. The road behind him isn’t empty like it always is in his dreams. There’s a minivan behind him, the tired brunette behind the wheel is bickering with a child in the backseat. Behind her, a truck that doesn’t look all that different from Rhett’s. He wonders if their journey is the same as his. He’s certain it’s not.

It’s a Wednesday when Rhett leaves. He doesn’t say a damn word to anyone other than Maria, they’ll just try to ask him to stay. The road behind him isn’t empty, and neither is the road ahead of him. It’s different than in his dreams, but not in a bad way.

Truthfully, it’s like a pinch to remind him that he’s actually awake. That he did it.

Radio off, everything he owns on the bench beside him.

In his dreams, Rhett makes it further. Drives until he hits the horizon and then some. On that Wednesday, he drives until he can barely keep his eyes open and he’s got a cramp in his calf from the stiff clutch pedal in his old truck. He doesn’t quite hit the horizon, but the glowing neon of a faded motel sign seems far enough there and then.

He has some money with him. It’ll get him where he needs to go, wherever that is. Winnings from bull riding and wages from helping out on neighboring ranches. What his father had paid him usually hadn’t ever stretched far enough to make it into the savings.

Rhett pays for a room for the night, though this is the kind of establishment that’s used to more of an hourly rate. He drops his bags onto the spare bed and sits down on the one that’ll be his for the night.

He’s a couple hundred miles in, near Richfield according to the last sign before he took his exit. Idaho. He’s been here a few times before. Riding competitions, auctions and stuff. It’s never made too much of an impression before and it doesn’t on that Wednesday night.

There’s nothing on TV, Rhett hadn’t thought to bring a book when he was packing in the middle of the night. After about an hour, Rhett can’t stand the sound of his own thoughts any longer. He grabs his coat and heads out, walking along the roadside for a bit until he’s at a bar off the side of the road.

Just another lonely stranger, sitting at a barstool. He considers tequila. After the couple of weeks he has had, he could do with something strong. But, he isn’t far enough — he still feels that pull, telling him to go home and won’t risk being too hungover to drive far enough to shake that feeling tomorrow.

In lieu of tequila, Rhett finds it’s warmth elsewhere. After a couple of beers, Rhett settles out his tab. Pleased with his manners and intrigued by how he teeters on the edge of kicked puppy and mysterious outlaw, the pretty girl behind the bar tells him her shift’s almost over.

Always a gentleman, Rhett makes sure she has someone to walk her to her car once she’s ready to go. It’s not his fault that they wind up walking a little bit past her car. It’s her hand that dips into his front pocket and retrieves his motel room key — her lips that drag along his throat, her hand that curls into his hair.

She kisses him goodbye the next morning. He isn’t sure how he feels about it, but her name plays on his mind through the morning and into the afternoon. Carrying with him through Idaho and into Oregon.

It’s a couple of days of that. Driving around, learning new names between thin motel sheets, forgetting them by sundown the next day.

Rhett’s mother always had it in her head that he was a womaniser. He isn’t sure where she got it from, considering that he didn’t have his first kiss until he already had his driver’s license.

The hard part is, Rhett hadn’t ever really known enough about himself to disagree with her. She raised him, saw the intricacies of his growing mind — if that’s what she said he was, then it must’ve been true. So, Rhett let it grow to be true.

He isn’t necessarily proud of it. But, he is somewhat proud of the manner in which he does it. He’s never resorted to a sleazy pick-up line or a bold-faced lie to get a woman into his bed. He’s quiet enough to be mysterious without being mysterious enough to be unapproachable. Handsome enough but not too put together.

It’s been four days since Rhett left Wyoming when he realises that yesterday, he had turned back around. He’s on the cusp of Montana, headed back the way he came.

He had stopped feeling the pull a day or so ago, because he had already turned back towards it. He’s pulled off to the side of Route 212 in the parking lot of a diner, his head in his hands.

This had been predicted. It had been Cecelia’s go to answer every time Rhett had threaten to leave. Go on then, I’ll be here when you get back. She hadn’t meant it with spite, but those words had always struck Rhett like venom. When you get back, because she was so confident that he would.

He hadn’t ever let her explain whether she thought that he’d be back because he belonged there or because she thought he just couldn’t make it on his own.

Either way, she’s wrong.

Rhett just needs a destination — an end goal. After five days of driving through the West, he feels scattered, and it’s just going to get worse. It was kind of stupid, to pack up and leave without anywhere to go.

That’s all he has to do — figure out where he’s going.

He grabs his baseball cap from beside him on the truck bench and secures it over his messy hair, leaving the truck in its space as he heads into the almost empty diner.

He takes a seat up by the counter and orders a coffee from the polite, young waitress standing behind the counter. He probably should eat too, he just can’t stand the thought of more diner food. It takes him a while, but he orders a sandwich finally. It’s the only thing on the menu that contains a vegetable and his body’s going to give out if it doesn’t get one of those soon.

With no one here now to tell him not to play with his food, Rhett sits distracted. Under fluorescent light, calm country playing over a radio in the kitchen, he takes his time to look around him as he picks at his sandwich.

There’s a pinboard that sits behind the counter. It’s partially blocked by the pale blue uniform shirt of the waitress as she texts on her phone, but Rhett can still see most of it.

Missing people, things for sale, help wanted signs — there’s a mixture of stuff on there. There’s a piece of yellow card that stands out. Ranch Hands Wanted. The Blue Mountain Ranch, MT.

It’s a stupider idea than driving aimlessly around the country, falling right back into what he’s running away from. Still, his mouth makes the decision before his head is on board.

“‘Scuse me,” Rhett’s voice gruff from not speaking much, he quietly clears his throat and brings his coffee cup closer to him. The waitress turns towards him and raises her eyebrows, a polite smile on her lips. “Could I see that notice, please?”

A quick glance behind her to see which one he’s talking about, and then she’s looking at him dubiously. Her smile grows with intrigue. Rhett swallows, watching as the unpins the yellow paper from the board and sets it down on the counter in front of him.

He turns his gaze down and starts to read through the desired skills. All stuff that he’s been doing since he was a kid. Herding cattle, fixing fences. Nothing new except the scenery.

“Thinking of joining the Mountain?” She asks. Rhett looks up at her over the brim of his baseball cap. She’s resting both hands on the counter and leaning forwards slightly, interested.

“Does that sound like a bad idea?” He asks in response, setting the paper down on the countertop beside his coffee. He leans back in his seat and parts his knees. She looks him up and down, pink lips quirking slightly at the edges.

Handsome guy like him, hands that are clearly used to some dirty work — Lena’s got a very good friend on that ranch that could do with a pick me up.

She gives her head a soft shake, “Actually, I think you’d fit right in.”

Rhett hums. He bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the printed information. Somewhere to lay low until he’s got a destination in mind doesn’t sound too bad. As long as he’s not back there, it doesn’t matter.

---

Blow by Blow | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big.

Warnings: references to domestic violence in this chapter — no graphic scenes, but mention of injury.

…

The sound of the plate hitting the wall behind your head still echoes in your ears. Buying tempered glass plates had sounded like a good idea nine months ago. Under a dollar per plate. A short term solution to furnish your first place. They had worked just fine, nothing special. But, it turns out that tempered glass shatters just like you’d expect it to.

There’s a slight limp to the way you’re walking. You don’t feel the pain, but your body still can’t function at full capacity. You know that can’t be good.

Blood spills out onto your skin as quickly as the warm, summer rain can wash it away. The cuts are small, you won’t need medical attention for them. Except for maybe the one on your foot. Walking barefoot in downtown San Diego can’t be doing you any favours there.

You breathe out, a choked whimper as you step barefoot onto a metal bottle cap. Your foot is sore and bloodied, but most importantly — bare. You hadn’t bothered to grab shoes.

Things with Jett had always been fiery. He was so passionate. You were stupid for thinking that that was a good thing.

“Hey!”

Stumbling back a few steps from the edge of the curb, your eyes go wide as you back away from the approaching car. You glance down quickly at your feet, then back up. There’s probably enough adrenaline in your system for you to start running, you’re just not sure how far.

It’s not his car. The realisation is sudden and uplifting, you stop moving and squint as it pulls up to the curb, blinded by its white headlights. The window rolls down and you’re met by a faintly familiar face.

She has dark hair and she’s frowning at you, clearly concerned. Your mind races, trying to determine if she’s safe or not. Jett will come looking and you can’t risk one of his friends —

You take another step back as you realise where you know her from. Bradshaw’s. She works there. Your mouth goes dry as you ready yourself to run again. She reaches for the radio and turns it all the way down, silencing the upbeat pop rock coming from her stereo. Her face scrunches further.

“Are you okay? — Can I call someone for you?”

Natasha stares ahead of her, her heart sinking. You’re wearing pyjama shorts and a t-shirt, both soaked through, your hair sticking to your skin. There’s an edginess to the way you’re looking at her, you’re flighty — terrified. All explained by the blood on your arms, small scratches and bloodied footprints behind you.

You slowly shake your head. Standing on the edge of a busy road, all that you can hear is your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Jett. She’s going to call Jett.

You take a few steps. Her eyes widen. Downtown isn’t the most walkable — or safe — area, and you’re about to take off.

“Hey, hey — it’s okay. I won’t call anyone. I promise.” She calls out. You see her mouth move, but it’s useless trying to understand what she says. You feel nauseous and tired and wide awake all at the same time. A few more stumbling steps back.

She grabs her door handle and slips out of the car, rounding the hood with her palms open and outstretched in front of her, moving slowly. You’re a deer in headlights, heart racing as she slowly approaches you.

The last thing she wants is to lose you down here. This can be a bad spot at night, especially in your condition.

“You’re drenched,” Natasha says softly, brows knitting together in concern. You blink, staring ahead at her. She offers her hand out slowly towards you. “Why don’t you get in the car, okay? — We can figure this out.”

You jolt the second her fingers graze your skin. She doesn’t pull back, not wanting to spook you. Instead, she brushes her thumb gently across the back of your hand and slides her palm loosely into yours.

“Please?”

Next, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of Natasha’s classic mustang, shivering. Out of the cold, it all hits you all at once. The pain in your foot, in your head, in your chest. Natasha exhales softly as you begin to sob. She has a good idea of what must have happened without needing to ask.

Turning the heat up, she turns her head towards you, her features soft.

“Do you need somewhere to stay tonight?”

Natasha is one of three girls, and she has been mocked her entire life for being the least caring, the least maternal of all of them. Her sisters already have kids and husbands who they adore taking care of. Natasha’s a semi-pro female boxer — they’ve never understood her.

But, considering that you know none of that, you’re impressed at how she cares for you. A stranger. She barely even knows your name — only from hearing Jett scream it. You don’t know hers until you’re sitting on the floor in her living room as she digs through her first aid kit for you.

You wake up early the next morning, curled up into a throw pillow on her couch, wearing some clothes that she fished out of the very back of her closet. Your clothes should be dry by now after she had washed them last night.

You lie there for a while, facing her television, thinking of what comes next.

This makes you homeless, you suppose. You’re miles away from family, and you know that Jett will be periodically stopping at your friends’ homes looking for you.

Pushing yourself so that you’re sitting, you exhale softly.

Sitting in her room with a stranger on her couch and the overwhelming need to do something, Phoenix has laid awake most of the night thinking of what to do. By morning, she has decided.

“Hey, Rooster — I need a favour.”

You wipe your cheeks quickly, sniffling at the sound of her feet padding along the hallway towards her living room. Her apartment is small, but you really like it. It’s more feminine than you would have expected for her.

A plush white couch, with a red wine stain hidden under a throw pillow. Courtesy of Javy, who you’ll meet soon enough. Pictures of her, and her friends and family all around. A knitted cat plushy on the corner of the couch. A gift from Bob’s mom.

A white and green theme, with splashes of other colour, passes through the apartment. It’s tidy and meticulously organised. She seems to be kind of a perfectionist. She rounds the corner and slows, reminding herself not to spook you, even though she’s excited by her genius idea.

“Morning, how are you feeling?” She asks softly, stopping in the archway. You offer her a sheepish smile and blink hard, trying to make the tears stop.

“Um, embarrassed.” You breathe out, voice still trembling. Normally you aren’t the kind of person who would be out in the street at two in the morning, barefoot and wild.

Every other emotion remains under the surface. Aching, heartbroken, wounded in more ways than one. Embarrassed is all that you say.

Natasha nods understandingly, pushing her fingers through her hair as she moves to sit on the arm of the couch, crossing her legs under her. “I know you don’t, like, really know me — but, um… I’m not going to be able to sleep if I let you go back to Jett’s place.”

Not after seeing what she saw last night.

“So, I, uh… I talked to Rooster, at the gym, and there’s an apartment above it that… you could stay in for a while. If you wanted.”

Still cut and bruised from last night, your body finally hurts. You’re left with the reality of what happened, and the only option in sight is to lean on a stranger. This isn’t how you pictured things.

You raise your eyebrows, “That’s so kind, but… I can’t. If Jett saw me, or-“

“He’s not welcome in that place. The guys all know it. He won’t be able to come within twenty feet of it without someone sending him packing.”

You don’t have many options. Still, this one sounds risky. She watches as your features scrunch up with uncertainty. Natasha smiles softly and rests her hand against your knee.

“How about you come see it with me? — Just take a look.” She suggests. Staring into her warm brown eyes, you already know that this kind of kindness is a debt you can never repay, and that she is a friend you would be lucky to have.

Again, you’re blinking back tears as you slowly nod your head at her. This time, not because of Jett.

Bradley whistles as he strolls through the door to the gym, an hour late for his shift but not hungover this time. Phoenix is sitting on the counter top by the front desk, talking away with Mickey.

“Children.” Bradley greets calmly, swinging his gym bag off of his shoulder and dropping it behind the desk. He leans his forearms on the counter, in no rush to start working.

“D-Bag.” Fanboy greets playfully, making Natasha laugh.

“Your Mommy still not letting you say real swear words yet, Mick?” Rooster teases, raising his eyebrows. Phoenix laughs again. As much as she could train in places with better reputations, she would miss her boys too much if she left this place.

But she’ll never admit that, their egos are big enough already.

Mickey grins, then flips off Rooster. Rooster winks at him, then turns his attention to Natasha.

“And you — what did I tell you about bringing home strays?” He jokes, referring to the damaged girl sitting alone upstairs in a dusty apartment. Phoenix softens immediately and shakes her head.

“Seriously, you should’ve seen her last night…” She says quietly, shaking her head. Rooster’s brows furrow slightly. “I couldn’t leave her.”

Bradley nods his head. “She’s moving in, then?”

“I’m not sure, she—“ Natasha stops speaking as the door behind the desk opens. Her and Mickey turn quickly. Bradley’s already facing you. You’re wearing clothes that might have been Natasha’s ex-boyfriends, cheeks blotchy from crying, legs covered in scrapes and shoes that are a size too big. You swallow softly.

“Hi…” You whisper. Mickey’s the first to offer you a shy smile. The other two nod in acknowledgement. “Um, Nat, I don’t know if—“

“Take it. Please.” Natasha rushes out. She gets really cranky when she can’t sleep, she’s got a fight coming up and she just really can’t take her nerves being shot like this right now.

You look towards Rooster, unsure. He simply shrugs, not really knowing what you’d like him to say. He’s already in trouble for losing Jett as a client, Mav is going to freak out about them banning him permanently.

“I’ll pay rent.” You decide.

Rooster shrugs his broad shoulders again, “Don’t have to — no one’s been up there since the eighties. It’s a dump.” Mickey turns his head and frowns at his boss. Rooster would make an awful realtor.

“No, I-I’ll pay. And I can help out here, I just — I need to thank you for being so kind to me.” You look at Natasha, sincere. It’s almost a sweet moment. Until Bradley laughs. Every head turns to look at him. Phoenix scowls at him disapprovingly.

He pats the counter and shakes his head, still laughing. “Sorry. Just the thought of you tryin’ to train someone. Don’t worry about that, we’ll take care of things down here.” He doesn’t mean to sound like a douchebag, and somehow he still manages. Mickey wants to kick him.

You swallow, embarrassment burning through you as you nod slowly.

“I’ll get you the keys.” Phoenix decides finally, drawing the attention away from how clueless Bradley has become over the past year. “Come on.”

She didn’t give him the full details, so he doesn’t know what you’ve been through. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t have just laughed in your face and fatally wounded your already crushed confidence. Even then, he might have — Nat isn’t sure.

Rooster hasn’t been in a good place for a while now. For a while, he seemed to be getting better. It fluctuates — this week, he’s an asshole again.

Your new apartment has two entrances. One, the door behind the front desk. This leads you directly into the gym. Your second, is the back door by the kitchen, a set of steel steps that lead down to the back of the building. Behind that is a locked gate that leads out towards the marina. You now have keys for both of those, but not the gym. That seems fair.

It’s mostly exposed brick up there, like the rest of the gym. A few wallpapered walls. Outdated, but you’re not in the space to be picky. Furnished, but also cluttered with the staff’s belongings.

You sit alone on the floor of the place for a while.

The door opens behind you, making you flinch and hurry to your feet. A short, older man with brown hair stands in the doorway with a frown on his face. Maverick. Natasha told you about him.

“Hello.” He says softly, uncertainty in his tone. You echo back a quiet greeting. “You live here now?”

Apparently it’s that simple. You give a small nod.

“Look, you don’t have to pay rent but—“

“I want to.” You interrupt. “Please. I can’t stay here for free.”

Maverick folds his arms over his chest. “Nat said that you’re good with computers.” You squint slightly. You’ve had an office job before, if that means you’re good with computers. Still, you nod.

“Call it a hundred a week if you’ll help me put this place on the line.”

“Online?” You ask gently. Maverick shrugs. It’s all the same to him. Still, four hundred a month — he’s insane. You nod quickly. “Of course. Sure.”

He smiles.

“Nice to meet you. Sorry for busting in, do you mind if I grab my jacket?”

You step quickly out of his way and let him in. So, this is happening.

…

---

The Double Birthday

A/N: This is very self indulgent because not only is it Lewis’s birthday it’s also mine! So happy birthday to me and Lew (and my twin) and to anyone else who shares the glorious January 29th birthday!!!

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Oral (F receiving), hand-job, unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it), breeding kink (if you squint)

Main Master-List

———

As the sun peeked through the windows of the house, other than the pitter patter of paws on the hardwood before they scratched at the closed door of the bedroom, it was quiet.

Shifting in the sheets, Y/N’s brows furrowed before a gasp let her mouth and her eyes fluttered open as her body tried to curl into itself. Yet Bob’s hands held firm against her hips as he moved her legs to frame his head, his nose bumping against her clit as his tongue delved into her sweet cunt. Her legs tensed as moans fell from her mouth “No fair!” she whined as her hand moved down to tangle itself into Bob’s hair.

Feeling her nail against his scalp a groan left his lips “Oh Sweetheart”, sending a vibration though Y/N’s core causing her toes to curl. Taking one long lick from the bottom of her cunt up to her clit, Bob relished in hearing the sweet moans that emitted from Y/N before he lifted his head up and rested his chin against her hip bone. “It’s your birthday Sweets… I just wanted to give you a good…. Morning” as he spoke the last few words one of his hands slipped from her hip down to her core, slipping his middle and ring finger into her, the coolness of his ring sending goosebumps across Y/N’s legs as he slowly started pumping them in and out of her. “Can’t I give you a good morning?” he smirked as he felt Y/N’s heel dig into his back as she threw her head back into the pillows.

“But it’s your birthday too” She panted “Wanna give you a good morni- Oh Fuuck Bobby!” she gasped breathlessly as he dipped his head back down, to nip at her clit as his fingers picked up their pace. “Ahh! Yes!” Her hand tightened its grip on his hair as Bob interlaced his free hand with her’s “Please don’t stop!” she pleated “Please Bobby! Feel’s so good!” Starting to rock her hips against his face, Y/N noticed how the whole bed started to rock before she glanced down seeing how Bob had buried himself in her cunt as he rutted his hips into the mattress.

Biting her lip, Y/N took in the sight before grabbing onto Bobby’s hair and raising his head, a sigh left her lips before her hands pulled on his shoulder to bring him up to her. Making his way up the bed, his nose brushed against her as her hands pushed the waistband of his sweatpants down. “Happy Birthday Bobby” she hummed, nipping at his bottom lip while her hand slowly stroked Bob’s cock.

Smirking as a gasp left his lips, he pressed a firm kiss to her lips mumbling “Happy Birthday Sweets” before he replaced her hand with his, guiding his cock into her dripping cunt. Seating himself into her, Bob placed one of her legs over his shoulder as he hitched the other over his hip, holding it in place before slowly rutting his hips into her’s.

“Bobby!” she gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

After grinding into her hips, Bobby slowly unsheathed himself before slowly pushing back into her, keeping his pace slowly and his strokes long. Burying his head into her neck, he kissed his way just below her ear “You know what I want for my birthday Sweets?” he panted before licking the shell of her ear “I want you to come all over my cock… I… want… this pretty… Little… Cunt… to absolutely… soak me” he emphasized every word with a thrust before picking up his pace “Can you do that for me?”

Feeling her start to squeeze around him Y/N nodded her head frantically “Yes! Yes Please” she whined before she turned her head into Bob’s ear “You know what… what I want for my- Shit! My birthday” she forced the words from her mouth, knowing she had to say it before she was too blissed out to say anything “I want your cum Bobby, I wan- OH FuCK YES!” She cried as Bob moved her other leg over her shoulder before she felt his fingers circle over her clit as he planted his feet into the mattress, folding her in half as he pounded into her.

The bed rocked back and forth, headboard slamming into the wall with the momentum, Bob’s forehead pressed into the crook of Y/N’s neck “Yeah you wanna be full of me Sweets?” he mumbled

“Fuuck yes! Please” she pleaded, feeling her legs start to shake. Taking her hands in his, Bob laced their fingers together as Y/N knuckles turned white as her back arched from the bed “OH MY GO-“ as she was pushed over the edge her moans were cut off from Bob pressing his lips to hers to silence his own cries as his hips shuttered before he slammed his hips into Y/N one last time. His hips and legs tensed as they came down from their highs.

Lips still seared together before Y/N freed one of her hands from Bob’s grasp to trail it over his shoulder and down his back. “fuck Sweets” he mutter as a shiver made its way down his back before he rested his forehead against hers. “… Have a good start to the Double Birthday?” he hummed, moving to kiss the top of her nose.

“But best start to the Double Birthday, Bobby” she smiled back.

——

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