#CROWDED PLACES MY ABHORRED

[mspaint-flower]

What's Flower's opinion on loud and crowded places?

she's thinking about it

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Good Lil Boy

prince!wooyoung x princess!reader

enemies to lovers au

genres: tiny bit of fluff, loads of angst, smut- both hard and soft (mdi!) swearing, wooyoung being wooyoung (a tease), wooyoung driving you clinically and romantically insane, etc etc

word count: 23k

synopsis: you and wooyoung may be best friends but you are also each other's worst enemies, leaving no chance to humiliate and tease the other. when you meet at prince yunho's kingdom for a 3 months retreat, things take an unexpected turn as you start to place very personal bets and find yourselves unable to keep your hands off each other, something you'd regret later as you fail to keep boundaries.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Unfortunately, that is how it is,” Seonghwa was resting his face on one hand, elbow propped on the table as he scanned you, a smirk growing on his face. “Can’t say I hate what’s happening. Ought to put you in your place, Princess.”

You looked at Hongjoong for help, “He’s not fucking serious, is he?”

“Ought to teach you how to speak to elders too,” Seonghwa muttered and Hongjoong laughed.

“I’m sorry, Princess. That’s how it is. It’s only three months, what could go wrong?”

That was the conversation you recalled when you reached the castle in Utopia, the face you were dreading right in front of you as you got out of your carriage.

“This place is already one prince too crowded,” you looked at Prince Wooyoung, his smirk growing by the second. “Here to learn how to live up to your title, eh?”

“I’d say that to you,” Prince Wooyoung bowed dramatically. “This place ought to teach a princess how to make good use of her mouth.”

“Like you’d know,” you sneered at him as you waited for Hongjoong and Seonghwa to stop giving orders to the rest of your companions so they could join you and take you inside, away from that brat.

“I’d say I know very well- how to make good use of my mouth,” he winked at you and you put your hands over your ears, grimacing as you called for the two to hurry up. Prince Wooyoung scoffed in victory before going inside with his companions who greeted you with bows. 

Just a week ago, you had received the news from your father- Utopia’s royal family had invited princes and princesses from across the continent, holding an event, something like a holiday retreat for everyone. The details of it you would receive upon arriving but you had heard it was going to be fun and games, and you would have believed them, would have enjoyed your stay except-

Except for the fact that Wooyoung was here.

You didn’t hate Wooyoung, no. You abhorred him, his sassiness, his brattiness, his very existence, just like he hated yours. And it wasn’t due to a petty reason (though that was debatable as well). As children, since your parents were close, you two had spent most of your prepubescent years together. You had even been friends. But everything had changed once you two were grown enough to be aware that you were a boy and a girl.

And it was both your fault and his. 

You did not like recalling the dark times, as you so dramatically liked to put. Some would say it wasn’t even a reason big enough to hate each other, but you argued that it was. He had humiliated you in front of Prince Yunho, whose castle in Utopia you were now in. You, in return, had humiliated him in front of Princess Yuju of Neverland, whom he had always had a crush on. You called yourself even but he decided to fight with you, the result of which was now obvious to everyone who knew you.

Prince Yunho greeted you both as you entered the castle, inquiring of your parents’ health. You shared a hug, telling him how much they missed him and looked forward to meeting him in three months’ time, when all this would be over.

“Are you sure your parents are the only ones who missed him?” Wooyoung muttered and you flipped your middle finger at him, Yunho laughing at you two as he told Wooyoung to behave while he was around you. You left before he could start recalling the dark times, putting an arm in Seonghwa’s as he escorted you to the guest chambers.

“You should have told me that brat was going to be here,” you slumped on the couch, Seonghwa and Hongjoong snickering, “You both just love to see me miserable, don’t you?”

“Come on,” Hongjoong said, “If we’d told you, you would have never agreed to come.”

“Exactly,” you gave him a side-eye, “This is treachery. I ought to get you both beheaded.”

Seonghwa ignored your remarks like he usually did as he handed you a glass of water, “Cool down. It would do you good to tolerate his existence while you’re here. Who knows? Maybe you two will become friends again.”

“Yeah, who knows, Seonghwa,” you sipped the water. “Maybe he would fall to his knees and apologise. Maybe the world will end. Who knows?”

“Why is she so dramatic?” Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong for help who was almost half asleep.

“The important question, my dear friend,” Hongjoong began, “Is why do we serve this spoilt Princess-”

“I’m spoiled? You clearly haven’t met Wooyoung.”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong decided you were right later that evening when Wooyoung was flirting with the other princesses from around the continent while sending knowing smirks in your direction, which you tried to ignore but then he did what you feared- a princess you recognised was from the south came and asked you, “Did you really burn your hair off once while trying to impress Prince Yunho? All of it?”

However, the duo were also impressed by your patience and your will to not bend under Wooyoung, to meet fire with fire, as you replied, “Oh no, honey. That was Prince Wooyoung- you see how half his hair is another colour? That’s because they can never be the same colour again. Ask him, go on.”

The Princess, who was no more than 13, gasped, believing what you said right away as she made her way back to Wooyoung and seconds later, you heard a howl of laughter and you sipped on your wine in victory. Hongjoong patted you on the back, “I have to admit, that was a good one.”

“Do not encourage her,” Seonghwa warned but he, too, was smiling. “Here he comes.”

Prince Wooyoung plopped himself beside you, shaking his head as he grinned, “That was a good one. They refuse to believe I haven’t dyed my hair.”

“You should have been more clever with your lies,” you smiled sweetly at him, “I do wonder what you were thinking when you decided this was a good look on you.”

“Oh, the ladies love it,” Wooyoung flicked his half-tied hair, “So. I hear it’s about time you get married. Should I find you a good suitor here?”

Oh no.

“You’re my age,” you smirked at him, “Maybe I should announce you’re mine. Let’s see if you get the same company of ladies around you then.”

Wooyoung cooed, “Can’t resist calling me yours?”

You leaned forward, your noses almost brushing, “My tongue’s still bitter thanks to the aftertaste.”

Wooyoung made a face as you sat back in your position, “Three months here, Princess. Get ready for hell.”

He blew a kiss your way before he went back, making all the ladies that were watching go wild and you glared at Seonghwa and Hongjoong, “Give me a good enough reason not to murder him right now.”

“Your own execution?”

“I said a good enough reason,” you turned to look at Wooyoung who was now back to sitting in the middle of a crowd of ladies, “Execution sounds tempting.”

—----------------

The next day, all the young royals settled themselves in the Great Hall for breakfast where you spotted Prince San- an old friend of yours. You waved at him from a distance and wowed internally at how different he looked- he had definitely matured a lot. Prince Yunho stood up after everyone was done with breakfast, clinking his glass to get everyone's attention.

"It's so good to have most of you here, after years," he began, meeting eyes with the princes and princesses from across the continent, "It was my father's idea that I host this retreat for all of us, a way to catch up with everyone and reminisce over old memories, and who knows? Maybe some of us will go back engaged," he threw a wink in one direction. "Anyways, you all are free to roam around, but I had a little something in mind-"

He then laid out his plan- Mondays for horse riding, Tuesdays for board games, Wednesdays for outdoor games, Thursdays for history lessons, Fridays for balls and parties and Saturdays and Sundays would be free unless something came up. You liked that- you weren't bound to stay the whole three months (though Yunho assured anyone who wanted to could stay here forever) but you decided it was a relief from your life back home, where everyday had started to feel bland as you followed a mechanical routine. Everyone was just as excited as you, if not more. 

You got up after Yunho excused himself, approaching San and sharing a hug, "You've changed, Prince."

"I hope it's a good change. You're prettier than ever," San smiled. 

"Thank you," you smiled back. "Good to see you, Jongho," you addressed his Right Hand, who was also a friend of yours.

"It's been long, Princess," he bowed. "I see Yeosang- let's go greet them. Have you met them yet?"

Yeosang being Wooyoung's Right Hand- you shook your head, following him as Yeosang greeted you three.

"Ah, Princess, I'm glad you're here. Finally someone I can badmouth Wooyoung with."

You grinned, "This is why I like you, Yeosang."

"Now, now," Wooyoung approached you. "Already teaming up against me?"

"What do you mean? We've been a team ever since I can remember," Yeosang dramatically said, earning a laugh from everyone else and a slap from him.

"All my best friends are here," Yunho and his Right Hand, Mingi approached the group with Seonghwa and Hongjoong, "There's a lot of catching up to do. What do you say, drinks tonight, my room."

Everyone agreed, "Only if someone stops Mingi from crying when he gets drunk."

"I don't cry when I'm drunk!" Mingi laughed at Jongho.

"You definitely do, Mingi, I can attest to that," Yunho laughed.

Yunho was right.

Mingi did cry when drunk.

However, that was the least of your problems right now, because what threatened you was Wooyoung, who was an extreme flirt when drunk.

"Like sober Wooyoung wasn't enough," you put your feet on his shoulder to push him away harshly as he tried approaching you, almost crawling. "Now I have to deal with a horny Wooyoung."

It had all been normal- after dinner, you all met in Yunho's room after the rest of the people excused themselves for the night. Some were having drinks with their own groups, and your group of friends was as old as you so nobody batted an eye at your easy interactions.

You all caught up with each other, Wooyoung and you occasionally shooting a snide remark to the other, and the boys made you both sit in opposite corners, having a laugh over how you two still fought so much that it was probably love.

"That's not love," you spat.

"Yeah, we hate each other's guts," Wooyoung, for once, was on your side.

"You keep saying that," San teased, "I just know these three months are going to change something between you two indefinitely."

"Eternal hate sounds appealing, what say you, Wooyoung?"

"Very," he grinned at you.

"Gosh, is nobody gonna comment on his hair though?" You met eyes with everyone, "He looks like a half fried biscuit."

Everyone roared with laughter and Wooyoung gaped at you, "Nice try, Princess. Obviously trying to get attention off the fact that you have this weird haircut now- do you know it makes your face look fat?"

You unconsciously tugged at your bangs while the rest of the boys looked at each other, an echo of "I didn't even notice" and "me neither" going around the room.

"Please, have you looked in the mirror? And what's with the ponytail? You think you look hot?"

"I don't know, Princess," Wooyoung turned towards you. "Do I look hot?"

"Oh, someone get me a drink before I throw up all over the rug," you mumbled, Yeosang laughing as he passed you a drink and you downed it, glaring at Wooyoung who still looked amused. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face, Prince. Someone might think you actually find me funny."

"I do," he said, "find you amusing. Such a mouth you have on you. God…" he downed his own drink. "I missed this."

You started smiling- you missed this too. You may hate Wooyoung's guts but he was still your oldest friend. Everyone cheered, clinking their glasses together, going back to teasing each other over anything and everything-

Until everyone became drunk.

"Get him off me, Yeosang," you almost cried. "He's being weird."

"You two need this, you know," Yeosang only watched as Wooyoung attempted to crawl on top of you just to spite you. "We ought to put you two in the same dungeon for these three months."

"There's so much sexual tension between them, it's not even funny," San commented.

"Oh, shut up!" You and Wooyoung shouted at him together and he raised his hands but his smug face said he had proven his point. You got up, going to hide between Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

"Princess!" Wooyoung cried out as he got up, swerving dangerously as he ran his eyes around the room, searching for- "You!"

He almost tripped on one of Yunho's sprawled limbs as he made his way in front of you, "Everyone! Do you all know it's time for our little princess to find a suitor!"

Everyone including, to your dismay, Seonghwa and Hongjoong raised their glasses and cheered for you and you slumped even further down the couch. Wooyoung met eyes with you, "So… Who in this room would you give a chance, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes, "You think you undeserving shits have a chance?" Everyone booed at you, making you laugh. "No, I'm serious. Who do you think I'd even consider? I have known you guys since we were toddlers, take that into consideration too."

Wooyoung went behind San, rubbing his shoulders. "This lad has grown up well. How about him?"

You looked at Wooyoung in warning, who sported the most smug expression. San was thankfully too drunk to notice what was happening. "Can you stop this and sit down before I make you?"

"Make me? You can't make me do anything, Princess."

You took the challenge, walking to him slowly and he mimicked your actions until you both were face to face. "Look at you. You're just begging for it, Wooyoung. Begging for me to put you in your place."

Wooyoung put his fingers under your chin and you tried to ignore the way his eyes were dark as he looked at you with heavy-lidded eyes and the shiver his touch sent down your spine. "Do I have to get on my knees for you to do it?"

You heard the faint oohs from your friends who were conscious enough to listen in. You smirked, "You think about that image a lot? You, on your knees, in front of me?"

"God, no," Wooyoung scoffed, patting your cheek lightly, "Don't flatter yourself, Princess."

"Alright, before you two kiss in front of me," Hongjoong got up, clapping. "Everyone, bed, now."

Wooyoung and you immediately pretended to throw up as you two drew away and you followed Hongjoong and Seonghwa to your chamber, collapsing on the bed and passing out before you could recall the events of tonight.

—--------------------

You were sipping your margarita, relaxing on a chair in the shade with some of the people who weren’t interested in horse-riding itself, or who, like you, were currently inconvenienced due to an injury- yours being a still healing ankle. You figured you could join in the horse-riding lessons in a week or two, though you weren’t sure you would be learning much- you kind of sucked at it no matter who taught you. You just couldn’t deal with horses.

But seeing Wooyoung zoom past the audience with a smug look on his face as he rode possibly the most beautiful stallion present, in a rather graceful manner, you weren’t sure you wanted Wooyoung to see you struggle with horse-riding. After all, he was always waiting for a chance to spot your weakness and make a joke out of it.

“You look like you’re wishing he’d fall off and die,” Princess Yuju- one of your oldest friends- laughed as she slumped down next to you with a drink of her own, patting the sweat off her forehead with a kerchief. 

“Is it that obvious?” You muttered and she shook her head in amusement. “Okay, as appealing as that thought is, I was just wishing I could join, but you know how hesitant I am with horses.”

“I haven’t done this in a while so I have to admit, I was feeling nervous but Seonghwa… he’s a good teacher.”

You raised a brow as you noticed her smiling as she mentioned his name. “You still have a crush on him? I thought that was just a passing thing.”

“I thought too,” she sighed dreamily. “He’s just… such a gentleman.”

You put a hand over your mouth as you laughed, briefly recalling the events of last night. “You know what? Maybe you should see him drunk. He’s very talkative when drunk.”

“He shouldn’t see me drunk,” Yuju muttered and you giggled- she had a habit of getting physically affectionate when drunk, though she had a good level of tolerance. “And… here comes your favourite person.”

You didn’t know who she meant but the last person you were expecting was Wooyoung who was wiping his forehead with a towel and threw it in your direction as he got closer. With no time to dodge it, it landed on your face and you cursed under your breath, throwing it away.

“What’s your problem?”

“You have something on your face,” he said as he settled down in front of Yuju who was trying not to laugh.

“What?” You asked, patting your cheeks.

“Ugliness,” Wooyoung said and turned to Yuju. “How are you doing? You’re prettier than I last saw you.”

“And you’re still as shameless,” Yuju patted your back as you gaped at Wooyoung because how dare he? “I don’t get why you two won’t get along after all these years. It’s like you’re both doing it on purpose.”

“We get along well, don’t we?” Wooyoung asked and you nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, we do,” you looked at Yuju. “As well as water and fire.”

Yuju made an unimpressed face and spotted Seonghwa stepping off from his own horse. Just like yours, Wooyoung’s eyes also followed her gaze and you both shared a knowing smile. Yuju straightened and glanced at you both. “I’m going to leave you two… to bond.”

“To bond,” you muttered sourly as she left and Wooyoung scoffed. 

“So,” he crossed his legs. “How are your parents doing?”

“Are we actually doing this?” You scoffed but when his straight face didn’t change, you shrugged. “They’re fine. What about yours?”

“Fine, for the most part,” he looked towards the field where a few people were still riding. “Mom misses you. She keeps complaining about how you haven’t visited in a while.”

You smiled at that- as strange as your relationship was with Wooyoung, your relationship with his mother was even stranger. It had started as you getting in trouble with her for sneaking in her room because you loved the intricate necklace she always wore- you had been too scared to ask her directly. However, somehow when his mother, instead of scolding you when she found you trying to hide under a table, sneaked under it herself and shared stories of her own childhood, the two of you found yourselves in a bond that resembled something like a friend, or something like a mother-daughter relationship without all its complexities. 

You sometimes wondered if Wooyoung got his adventurous spirit from his mother. 

“I wanted to, last summer, but we had that issue with Halaland going on at that time,” you sighed. “I really wished things had sorted out earlier.”

“Aw, missed me?” He cockily rested his face in his hands. “You can admit it, you know.”

You frowned. “What’s your deal lately? You’ve never acted so… clingy.”

“With each passing year, I level up,” he said and you laughed at that- it was true. He was levelling up each year, not just in his personality and behaviour with you, but-

You couldn’t help but notice how sharp his facial structure had gotten since the last time you saw him- a year ago when he had visited your Kingdom of Eden to sort some things out. Wooyoung caught you staring. “Look at you. Shamelessly checking me out.”

“Do they give you nothing to eat anymore?” You ignored his comment. “You look frail.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried-”

“Good for me, would make it easier for me to push you to your death-”

“It’s called maintaining myself,” Wooyoung got up and flexed his arm muscles and you blanched, the approaching figure of San shaking with laughter at you two. 

“Leave her alone,” San smacked Wooyoung’s neck. “He’s just trying to impress the ladies- he thinks he looks hot like this. What do you think?”

“Easier to kill,” you muttered.

“He’s gotten stronger, actually, haven’t you, Woo?” San examined his friend from head to toe. “Wanna arm wrestle and see who wins this time?”

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you laughed, knowing you weren’t ready for Wooyoung’s high-pitched screaming that followed every time he lost to someone in anything. Yunho caught your eye and he motioned for you to join him and Hongjoong. 

“I see you two are getting along,” Hongjoong scoffed. “How’s your ankle?”

“I think I’ll skip next week too,” you rotated your ankle and winced when it stung. “Why do you both look so serious anyway?”

“Yunho’s just worried if everyone’s having a good time, and you and Wooyoung always make sure he’s in a constant state of worry,” Hongjoong shook his head in disappointment and Yunho laughed.

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho shook his hands. “He’s right about me being worried though. Are you having a good time?”

“Minus Wooyoung, of course I am,” you smiled. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and I’m sure we all needed a break. So you-” you patted Yunho’s arm. “Stop worrying and have a good time too. You can relax with us- we’re all friends here.”

“I also wanted to tell you something,” Yunho took a deep breath. “Princess Haeun of Halaland is arriving tonight.”

You didn’t hide your sour expressions. “I thought she wasn’t going to make it?”

“Seems like she is,” Yunho glanced at Hongjoong. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course I will be,” you answered. “Our issue with Halaland won’t influence my behaviour with the Princess, but you do remember we used to be friends before she started pretending we’re strangers, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not on the best terms with her either,” Yunho nodded. “I don’t know why she suddenly decided to come. I thought she would decline for sure since I was the one who sent the invitations.”

“She’s probably got something up her sleeve,” Hongjoong considered. “Let’s not let her get to us, though, shall we?”

But the moment the Princess entered the Great Hall and paused to search the crowd and stopped when she met your eyes, you knew the sinking of your heart was something you couldn’t ignore. She smirked and resumed walking, Yunho dutifully leaving the table to greet her and you turned towards the rest.

“You all saw that, right?” You looked at Yeosang and Jongho who were in front of you. Yeosang nodded.

“Maybe she’s just happy to see you,” Jongho teased.

“You’re thinking too much,” Wooyoung chipped in, stealing the last chicken nugget from your plate and you gasped as he put it in his mouth. “That’s just how she always looks like.”

“First of all, how dare you steal my nugget? And no, she doesn’t. She specifically met my eyes and gave me an evil smile. You’re blind if you didn’t see that.”

“You call that an evil smile?” Wooyoung laughed, looking around him. “Has anyone ever seen her smile?”

“You-”

“Shh,” Yunho slid in his place next to you, waving a dismissive hand. “You all attract too much attention. I’ll send you home if you keep acting like this.”

“Tell me you saw her evil-smirk at me,” you asked and Yunho looked around the table to make sure no one but your group of friends was listening.

“I think I did,” he finally gave in. “She’s weird. She specifically asked how you were doing- she doesn’t care enough to ask about you as soon as she arrives.”

“See?” You turned to Wooyoung, having proven your point, who fell silent. “She’s gonna have a bigger problem with me now. Especially after the events of last year.” 

“Just ignore her, you’ll be fine,” Wooyoung finally said, downing his drink. 

“It’s hard to ignore someone who has a habit of getting disrespectful with others,” you muttered, sighing deeply. Wooyoung and the others were no strangers to your rocky relationship with the Princess of Halaland. Others would dismiss it as something similar to your relation with Wooyoung, but he was your friend. He held no malicious intentions towards you, no matter how harsh he could be with his jokes. 

“Just come to me if she tries something, okay?” Wooyoung locked eyes with you. “I know exactly how to shut her up.”

You looked at Wooyoung, surprised, while your group of friends hooted loudly at that.

And there it was. Wooyoung was always the first one to protect you. No matter how much you hated his guts, at times like this your heart fluttered, so you simply nodded and told the boys to shut up, unable to meet Wooyoung’s gaze for the rest of the night.

—------------------------

You wondered who had the brilliant idea of assigning your seat diagonally across Princess Haeun in the history class because so far, so not good.

“I think we can all agree that Eden has a history of dirty politics,” Haeun began, glancing casually at you while you rested your chin in your hand, rolling your eyes at her. “Considering how only a decade ago, Eden almost called war on the Allied Kingdoms, shouldn’t it be clear that Eden does not really deserve a seat at the Peace Council?”

“Uh, I think that wasn’t Eden-” San began but was cut when Haeun continued.

“The Peace Council’s foundation is threatened by Eden’s presence in the council, in my humble opinion- no offence to the Princess,” Haeun pasted her trademark smirk over her face and you glanced across the room- quite a few youngsters looked doubtful by her confidence- or maybe your lack thereof. “I think the members of the Peace Council should be the kingdoms who condemn war, not condone it.”

“That’s, uh… an interesting stance you have there,” Jongho, who was voted to be the unbiased fact-checker/host for the day, said. “Anyone who would like to present an opposing argument?”

“I think,” you began, raising your hand and continuing when Jongho gave you the heads-up. “I think that Princess Haeun facts are biassed. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinions but I think the fact that the Allied Kingdoms were scheming to stop the trade from our shared seas… that calls for a threat or two, doesn’t it?”

“And as the oldest members of the Peace Council,” San was smirking, “Shouldn’t they have been resolving this issue ‘peacefully’ rather than this hostile approach which would clearly threaten the well-being of the residents of Eden?”

“What well-being, pray tell, would be threatened if the route was temporarily closed due to conflict? I’m sure Eden is capable enough to flourish trades with its neighbouring kingdoms rather than relying on the ones far away.”

“Conflict of the Allied Kingdoms and Halaland with Neverland, with whom we have maintained trade for as long as the kingdoms have existed,” You looked at Yuju. “Remind me again how our kingdoms would have been affected had the route been closed?”

“I think we’re all sensible enough to figure that out, aren’t we?” Yuju smirked. “Between the time to contact all kingdoms and begin trade, the damage… not only to Eden but to Neverland as well. I think it’s okay when it’s someone else.”

“Besides,” Wooyoung’s voice filled the room and you turned to look at his rather relaxed figure as he rubbed his nose, looking uninterested. “It’s rich coming from you when you sided with the Allied Kingdoms when things looked bleak for Eden. As the members of the ‘Peace’ Council, shouldn’t you have been, I don’t know, trying to do something for peace instead of something that would have surely instigated war?”

The look on Haeun’s face made you want to get up and kiss Wooyoung even if the thought somewhat repelled you. You turned to Jongho who was also trying to hide his satisfaction. “That’s right. As members of the Peace Council, I think whatever decisions made should have a peaceful outcome. If old dealings are disturbed, that would surely put anyone in a tight spot. Eden could have been less hostile, but the Allied Kingdoms and Halaland didn’t give them much of a choice in the first place.”

“Which is why no one really deserves the seat at the Peace Council,” Yunho concluded. “No one’s a saint. I think we should stop with the history lessons here and plan the ball for tomorrow, what do you say?”

The room burst into a chorus of cheers and you watched Haeun sulk in her seat while one of her friends tried to comfort her and shot nasty looks at you. You almost flipped the finger at them but you got distracted when Wooyoung took the empty seat behind you.

“You almost lost your composure back there, Princess.”

“Glad you decided to contribute with your valuable opinion,” you muttered.

“Know why?” He leaned forward, tucking your hair back. “I would like to be the only one who can rile you up. That’s why I’ll make sure I put Haeun in her place.”

You smacked Wooyoung’s hand away. “What sort of twisted logic is that? As much as I appreciate you trying to show Haeun her place, I think I can handle her. In fact, I think I should team up with her this time- she looks like she could kill you, not me.”

Wooyoung glanced at Haeun who indeed looked quite angry at Wooyoung. Perhaps, because they were neighbouring kingdoms, Haeun had expected Wooyoung to take her side but she couldn’t have been more wrong- Wooyoung had only one reason to side with you, and that was to have the upper hand. As if to prove that, he tilted his head. “Can’t handle me?”

“Sorry, no,” you made a disgusted face but then spotted San getting chummy with a shy girl in the corner- perhaps the princess of one of the kingdoms of the Allied. “Would you look at that?”

Wooyoung turned and chuckled when he saw the sight. “I guess he’s looking for a dance partner for tomorrow.”

“You got one?”

“Not yet,” he glanced at you. “And you?”

“I forgot that was a thing, honestly,” you sighed. “I don’t think anyone would be interested in me other than as a last option.”

“Now why would you think that?” Wooyoung tsk-ed. “You don’t lack anything- you’re pretty, you’re intelligent, you’ve got the dirtiest mouth, you can put a man in a chokehold-”

“That’s exactly why,” you grinned, ignoring the rush you got when you heard the first two compliments. “I think everyone’s scared of me, especially since I’m always surrounded by one of you idiots.”

“Well, Princess of Eden, you’re my first choice. Will you go to the dance with me?”

“No way in hell,” you countered, watching Wooyoung give in and burst out laughing. “Who placed the bets?”

“Those idiots,” Wooyoung pointed at Mingi and Yeosang- Yeosang seemed to have won as he pocketed some cash from a sulking Mingi. “I do love how quick you are. That makes you more attractive than you actually are, which isn’t much-”

“And that’s your cue to shut up. Wanna make another bet?”

“I’m all ears,” he leaned forward. 

“Haeun is going to say yes when you ask her to the ball,” you smirked.

Wooyoung raised a brow. “What makes you think I’d ask her in the first place?” 

“Because she keeps looking at you like she’d like to fuck you up- and not in a bad way,” You winked at him. “And… because she’d do anything to make me jealous.”

“Yeah, because everyone thinks we’re a thing,” Wooyoung nodded in understanding, shaking his head. 

“Doesn’t help when you’re… like this,” you said pointedly, glancing at the rest of the room who were all busy planning for tomorrow, leaving only the two of you interested in each other. “So?”

“So, I’d like to make another bet,” Wooyoung leaned forward, only the desk separating you two. “I know I’ll lose this one, but if Haeun makes the first move on me… you’ll be my date for the ball next weekend.”

“Ew, why would I agree to that?” You frowned. “And why would you want to take me?”

“I don’t like Haeun, you know I don’t. I won’t make the first move, but if she tries anything funny with me, I get to take you next weekend. And if she doesn’t, you have the choice of rejecting me.”

“Sometimes I wonder what you’ve stuffed in your skull to come up with things like that, but okay. I’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t make the first move-”

“Hey, no cheating!” Wooyoung practically shouted, getting up. “It’s time to seduce her. I need to lose the first bet to take you to the dance next weekend after all.”

You weren’t sure if you were regretting agreeing or ever coming up with the first bet, but whatever it was, you were more confused about the way Wooyoung had looked at you right before leaving.

—--------------------

You were wondering what disgusted you more- the sight of Haeun fluttering her lashes at Wooyoung as she danced with him, putting on the fakest smile you’d seen on a human, and pretending to act surprised at times– or, the sight of Wooyoung who had his hands on Haeun’s waists, who was whispering things in her ears, who looked pleased whenever he made her laugh. You really couldn’t decide.

“People are going to think you’re jealous,” Yunho poked your back and you cursed as you twisted in surprise. 

“I thought it was obvious that I am disgusted?”

“You keep telling yourself that, hon’,” Yunho shook his head. “Dance with me?”

You shrugged but accepted, getting up and straightening your midnight blue gown, glad you weren’t in a puffy peach dress like Haeun was- it was kind of making her look washed out. You took Yunho’s hand and he led you to the dance floor, the two of you taking up your positions and comfortably falling in a rhythm while you both observed the surroundings.

“You have eyes on you,” you said. “Who’s the lady in the black gown? Look at her when we turn.”

“Ah,” Yunho smirked and you raised a brow. “That’s the one I’m trying to impress tonight.”

“I think you’re doing a good job then,” you approved, smiling. “Do try not to smile like an idiot or she’ll catch on.”

“What, so I should play hard-to-get like you do?” Yunho looked at you.

“When have I ever played hard-to-get?”

“Isn’t that what you have been doing for so long now?” Yunho sighed. “I think you’re not even aware.”

“You’re not making any sense-”

“Wooyoung.”

You made a guttural sound at that. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Tell me what you think about him.”

“I don’t think about him, he disgusts me,” you muttered. Yunho winced.

“Try again. You’re too harsh, Princess.”

“Yunho,” you rolled your eyes. “Are you going to pretend you haven't known me since we were children? That you don’t know how Wooyoung and I have been since ages ago?”

“You used to be inseparable, you still kinda are,” he was grinning and you resisted the urge to kick his leg. “Problem is, you’re a bit too confused. Maybe you more than him. He seems to have figured it out-”

“Shut up,” you groaned. “You’re just trying to confuse me. Who placed bets this time?”

“No one,” Yunho stopped as the music ended and really looked at you. “It must be fun to act like you hate each other, but if you decide to drop the act… there are plenty of empty rooms in the west chamber where you two could-”

“And that’s my cue to get some air and wonder why I ever agreed to dance with you,” you curtsied him as the dance ended and he laughed, calling, ‘I know I’m right about this!’ as you steered yourself to the end of the ballroom to grab a drink. You encountered a few guests on the way who greeted you and made small talk, and by the time you had downed that drink, you were anxious to get some air. 

You decided to find the balcony at the other end of the room- the one that would probably have no audience at this time. As you reached the door, you spotted none other than Wooyoung and Haeun through the window, Haeun explaining something to Wooyoung while he nodded nonchalantly. You wondered what they were talking about but you noticed Yuju waving at you from the side and you decided you’d rather busy yourself with the girls than to think of what Yunho said which would surely haunt you at night-

And haunt it did when you had finally been free of the endless greetings and the mini-meeting with Hongjoong and Seonghwa to decide the schedule for the weekend and prepared to go to bed. It was way past midnight and you had just finished dressing into your black nightgown, pulling a wrap over it and taking your cup of chamomile tea to the window to drink in peace but found yourself plagued with thoughts of a certain someone.

As if the devils had planned your fate for the night themselves, you found Wooyoung looking up at you from the garden where he was alone. You almost hid out of instinct but he had seen you so you just waved awkwardly. He looked around and motioned for you to come down, but you shook your head, showing him your cup of tea- he was no stranger to your night habits. But then he motioned that he was coming to you, and you considered declining but then nodded, though, after he left, you wondered if you had the capacity to get into a vocal-battle with Wooyoung at this hour.

You opened the door and let him in, sighing when you took in his figure- he still hadn’t changed and was dressed in a three-piece, the buttons now undone and exposing quite a lot. You cleared your throat. “If you’re here to mock me or something, you can leave right now.”

“I’m here for the tea,” he sounded tired.

“Long night?” You asked as you shut the door and motioned for him to take a seat while you mixed the tea for him. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Wooyoung glanced at you, slumping further down the couch. “I did have fun when Haeun was not pretending to be someone else other than who she is. I mean- why pretend?”

“That’s what girls do when they aim to seduce someone,” you fluttered your lashes at him. “Like this?”

He let out a low laugh. “She’s actually not such a bad person when she’s being normal.”

“Oh, so you like her then?” You handed him the tea. 

“Not any more than I did earlier,” he said and you frowned in confusion. “Oh, and I won the bet, by the way.”

You made an impressed face. “She made the first move?”

He frowned in confusion. “You didn’t see her?”

“Was I supposed to witness that? Because that’s disgusting- oh.”

Wooyoung sipped the tea. “I should feel elated that I won the bet, but at the same time, it doesn’t feel good to be used. She spotted you near the balcony and that’s when she tried to kiss me. She thought I wouldn’t notice but I spotted you before her.”

“Just so we’re clear, I was only there to get some air but as soon as I saw the two of you, I backed away. It looked like you were having a… private conversation.”

“You should have joined,” Wooyoung shifted to turn towards you. “All she talked about was you.”

“Really?” You smirked, turning towards him too, not a lot of distance between you two. “All good things, I hope.”

Wooyoung chuckled, sipping again. “You looked good tonight, but I’ll be sending you a dress for next weekend. It’s going to be a masquerade ball- I know Yunho loves that shit. We’ll match.”

“Look at you,” you shook your head. “Your eyes always light up when you’re planning my demise. And I have plenty of dresses.”

“I know exactly what I want to see you in,” he let his eyes travel across your body and you suddenly felt conscious. 

“Are you drunk?” You frowned. “You’re babbling.”

“But you’re blushing,” Wooyoung was smirking shamelessly. “I wonder why.”

“That’s from the second hand embarrassment I’m getting from you,” you countered, cursing yourself internally. “Stop being a creep.”

“You know you love me,” he clicked his cup of tea with yours before drinking. You made an unimpressed face. 

“Oh, by the way, I forgot to give you this earlier-” he finished in his pocket, producing a small box.

“Wow, are you proposing to me?” You teased. “I thought you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you, I-” he paused, shaking his head and opening the box to reveal a necklace with a teardrop turquoise shining in the middle. “Mom sent this for you.”

“You better finish that sentence, Wooyoung, I dare you to,” you muttered as you took the necklace from him and examined it. “Wow. This is beautiful.”

“My mom has always had a good eye for things,” he looked proud. “I just wonder why she wastes it on getting things for you-”

“I’ll thank her myself,” you interrupted, getting up and going to the mirror next to the fireplace, unlocking the necklace and wearing it on your neck- or trying to but you couldn’t find the clasp so you just settled at examining how it looked, but-

“Let me,” Wooyoung muttered- you hadn’t even heard him come behind you. You felt the brush of his fingers on the back of your neck and you suppressed the shiver it would have sent down your spine. “There,” he said, his hands back on your shoulders as he looked at your reflection in the mirror. “Perfect.”

You weren’t looking at the necklace anymore- you were watching him slide his hands down your arms. “You look like something’s bothering you.”

He glanced at you from the mirror. “Something is.”

He didn’t say what, but you felt him take another step towards you so your back was flush against his body. This time, you didn’t stop the shudder, especially when he held your hands in his and rested his cheek against your head. “Like what you see?”

You couldn’t think- sure, this was a very Wooyoung thing to do. But this time, the two of you were alone, there were no bets in question- as far as you knew- and you hadn’t really been arguing like you had been pretty much the entire week. “What are you doing?”

You hated how it almost came as a whisper but he didn’t seem to care. He let the tip of his nose trail down your temple, squeezing your hands as his lips trailed down your neck, making you push your head back to give him more access, and then-

Then he kissed what had to be your sweet spot- you moaned more in surprise than in pleasure because how could he know when it was his first time? The sound seemed to have pleased him though, because he started nibbling at the spot, his arms wrapping around you, your hands still in his. He made a sound too as he shifted, his hair falling on your slightly exposed chest. You couldn’t help but watch the entire thing which perhaps made your nerves more heightened, your legs weakening with each passing second, and just when you were about to lose your footing, he drew back and helped you stand up, examining what he had done.

“Nice,” he licked his lips. “Goes well with the necklace. Now you can show them both off proudly.”

You gaped at him, the spot quickly turning a deeper shade of purple. Taking a deep breath, you mustered the deadliest glare. “Jung Wooyoung, you absolute-”

“Come on,” he shook his head, having grabbed your wrist that was in the air to punch his chest. With his other hand tucked under your chin, he ran his thumb on your lower lip and drew closer to whisper in your ear. “You liked every second of it.”

With a final kiss to your cheek, he drew back with the cockiest smile you had ever seen him wear, and waved goodbye as he left the room, leaving you standing in the middle of it and trying to control the overwhelming sensations that ripped through your body in his absence. You finally made it to the couch, slumping down, because-

Just what had he done? 

And why did you like it so much?

—---------------------

You weren’t sure if Wooyung was avoiding you but things were pretty, abnormally peaceful, which was saying something. Perhaps he knew you were out to murder him the first chance you got, but the weekend passed by rather peacefully and you even had a girls only sleepover where you gossiped all night, sharing stories and pampering each other.

And that was when, in the middle of massaging your shoulder, Yuju had noticed the telltale fade of Wooyoung’s mark.

“Now what is that-” she had begun but you shut her up, promising to explain it later and then avoiding her for the next two days until it was Tuesday and you finally met your group of friends in the evening for board games, where both Yuju and Wooyoung were present.

You paused in the middle of the room, Seonghwa and Hongjoong beside you. “Can we go home now?”

The duo turned to look at you once, ignoring you as they joined the rest, making you take a deep breath and walk to Yuju who wasn’t sitting too far from Wooyoung.

“I knew you couldn’t avoid me forever,” Yuju looked a bit too pleased to see you. “Wooyoung and I were just chatting. He said he missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you called to him, deciding at that moment that there was no way in hell you were letting Wooyoung get the better of you, and that retribution would come. He turned and acknowledged you with a nod, his glance going to where the mark would have been, carefully concealed now. “In fact, my hands have been itching since that night of the ball.”

“Ah, I feel shy,” Wooyoung hid behind San and Yuju laughed sarcastically. “What do you aim to do? Do not try to make a move on me-”

“Your mind ought to be cleansed,” San slapped Wooyoung’s neck and you laughed. 

“Hold up- the night of the ball?” Yuju raised a brow. “What’s going on between you two?”

“Nothing-”

“Something-”

“Jung Wooyoung,” you warned, turning to Yuju. “You know how he is. He’s trying to turn me clinically insane.”

“I’m clinically insane… for you too,” Wooyoung threw a wink and the three of you gasped. 

“San, please take him away from me before I grab something sharp and end this once and for all,” you begged and San chuckled, practically dragging him across the room and you felt like you could finally breathe, though, now that he was in front of you, you both kept exchanging death glares and talking in your own sign language. 

While Yunho explained the rules of the first game and you saw Wooyoung watching you instead of listening to Yunho, you flipped your finger at him and he blew a kiss at you, which probably the entire room saw. You stifled a groan and heard a disgusted sigh-

“Get a room, you two.”

You turned to the source- Haeun, who was sitting near you. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond but when she muttered something to her friends and they all laughed at you, you turned to her, ignoring Yuju who tried to stop you.

“Get a room, you said, huh?” You asked in a low voice, glancing at Yunho who was explaining something to the youngsters, and then at Wooyoung who had his eyes on you. “Too bad you couldn’t get one that night.”

Haeun’s friends collectively gasped at that and she actually looked offended. “What would you know about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I guess Wooyoung was bored enough to come find me. You know we hate each other’s guts. What does that say for you?”

Haeun scoffed. “I’m not interested in him. Go ahead- he’s all yours.”

“Oh, she says she’s not interested in him,” you turned to Yuju. “Does she want me to wipe that horrible image of her fluttering her lashes at Wooyoung during their dance? Because that would need some help-”

“You-”

“Ladies,” Yunho warned with a smile- only you knew that smile meant he’d had enough, though to the others he still looked calm. “The games are starting. Are we good?”

You straightened and nodded and Haeun did the same. Yunho distributed the cards and you played with your respective groups- yours against Haeun’s. The plan was to play in groups of 6 and compete with each other until 2 remained.

Haeun looked confident, but if there was one thing you were good at, it was at catching lies. You had always been observant enough to notice that one particular thing they did when they lied, which gave them away.

And you knew Haeun would always scratch somewhere on her skin before lying. The game of bluff was easier, especially with Yuju and Eunha by your side who were better at card games than you, so your team took on a winning streak.

A few hours later, only your team and Wooyoung’s team remained and you sat across from each other. You looked at Yunho and Jongho. “This team has all the luck, it seems.”

“I think we should announce our defeat here,” Eunha joked. Yunho’s luck wasn’t something that anyone took lightly.

“Come on,” he laughed. “We have 3 rounds. Anything could happen- and you two are good at this. I don’t know why you teamed up with y/n though, she kind of sucks at games…”

“Not this one,” you challenged. “Don’t tell them why.”

“I guess you’re feeling cocky today,” Wooyoung locked eyes with you. “Maybe we should have met in private before coming to the games. I’m not sure how confident you would have been then.”

“I’m not sure you would have made it here then,” you scoffed. “And neither would I have. I’d be busy cleaning up the murder scene.”

“Oh please, you two,” Jongho shook his head. “So stupid. Let’s start.”

The thing about Wooyoung was, you knew him inside out. He had taught you all the games that you knew today, so you knew how he played as well. You only needed to feel Wooyoung out- you were pretty sure that you would make it.

Halfway through the game, Wooyoung couldn’t believe his ears as you called out every bluff of not only him but Yunho as well. Jongho was a little hard to crack. “I’m your mentor, you can’t do this to me!”

You downed another drink that Hongjoong passed you, who loved seeing Wooyoung miserable. “Kill him, y/n.”

“Got it,” you laughed, glancing at the audience around you. Yunho scolded a sulky Wooyoung and told him to man up for the second round, where they could turn the tables if they won, otherwise it was going to be a clean victory for you.

You relaxed, observing your opponents. Your strategy for the this round was to target Wooyoung. After all, you had revenge to take. You dealt the cards and you let them pass twice before noticing Wooyoung picking at his earlobe. You stifled a smile and watched him place two cards on the table.

“Two nines,” he declared and looked at you.

“That’s a bluff,” you told him.

“Are you sure about that?” He leaned forward, smirking. And there it was- his defence mechanism.

“I’m calling it.”

Yuju tapped your arm to make you think again but you ignored her. You looked at Yunho. “Go ahead and check.”

Yunho laughed in defeat before he announced the cards, and while the rest cheered, Wooyoung and you found yourself in a staring contest. He couldn’t help but smile- he liked when you were in your element.

“How can you always tell when I’m lying?” He finally asked when everyone started to scatter.

“You have this very obvious thing you do when you lie. Not going to tell you,” you said.

“Well, you won,” Wooyoung clapped. “What do you want?”

He was talking about the bet you had placed earlier- fulfilling a wish if you won. You grinned, “I’ll save it for later.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Got some plans, I see.”

“Yeah,” you leaned forward. “I have a few, yes.”

“Well, at least you’ll stop avoiding me then?” He asked casually and you shrugged.

“Who said I was avoiding you?”

“Come on,” he scoffed, getting up and motioning at the table with the snacks. “You missed horse riding yesterday.”

“My ankle is still healing,” you told him. “I wanted to sleep in.”

“And you didn’t come to have dinner with us on Sunday.”

“I had to answer letters from home- wait, why am I even giving an explanation?” You took a bite of a chocolate chip cookie. “What makes you think I’d want to see you on purpose? My whole life has been navigating around ways to avoid you-”

Wooyoung scoffed. “I distinctly remember you watching me do that to you in the mirror,” he pointed towards where the fading bruise had been concealed with makeup. “You didn’t push me back. I wonder why.”

“Maybe because I was having a hard time processing exactly what you were trying to do,” you tugged at the necklace he had put on you subconsciously. 

“Want me to test your processing speed again?” Wooyoung grinned and you gaped at him.

“You know, that’s enough cockiness. I bet you’d be whimpering if I did that to you.”

“Ah, you think too highly of yourself, but I’m open if you want to test that theory-”

You laughed in disbelief. “What’s got you so horny these days, Wooyoung? Haven’t had a good fuck for a while?”

Wooyoung poked his tongue in his cheek- a sure sign that now he was turned on, and somehow, after realising just what you had said, you felt your ears heat up. “No. No I haven’t. And you look like you haven’t either.”

“I’m good,” you muttered. “Now get your head out of the gutter.”

“Well,” he drew closer, glancing around. Everyone seemed to be busy so he stood behind you just like he had that night and you found yourself frozen in your spot. He leaned forwards, one arm going around your waist and keeping you flush to himself while the other picked a chocolate from the table that he popped in his mouth. Your flush got deeper when you realised that the hard thing poking at your back wasn’t his flashy metallic belt. He whispered in your ear, “I know you’re holding yourself back, Princess. I know exactly what you want to do to me. I’m just telling you that you can. I’d like to be ruined by you.”

With that, he drew back and you almost lost your footing as you gathered yourself, unable to meet his eyes because yes, you hadn’t been the best at hiding the scandalous, borderline unholy flashes that crossed your mind whenever Wooyoung did something or acted some way. It took you a while to realise that only Wooyoung was capable of riling you up to the extent that you’d want to show him his place in that way. 

But right now, you were more pissed because how could he do that to you when everyone was right here? You glared at him but he only winked at you, waving goodbye and turning-

“Oh, no, you’re not,” you grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with me.”

“Oh, my,” Wooyoung grinned. “If anyone sees us, what are they going to think?”

“Like I give two shits about that,” you dragged him out of the room, praying no one would question your absence, though people would surely notice the absence of Wooyoung since he was, well, noisy to put it nicely. “This is the west chamber, right?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung was now walking beside you, his arm still in your hand. “Why?”

“Yunho mentioned there were empty rooms here, with some torturing instruments,” you muttered and he laughed out loud. “Perhaps I should test them to see if they’re still functioning.”

“Nice idea. I’m thinking spiked cuffs, neck collars-”

You tried the door of the first room but it was locked. The second was unlocked and you stopped, realising if you stepped in, you couldn’t back out-

“Having second thoughts already?”

“You are driving me insane,” you groaned, pulling him in and locking the door. You took a few deep breaths and looked around the room- pretty plain but you dragged a chair and made him sit so you could stand and point your finger at him.

“Stop looking so amused. Tell me what exactly is your problem. How dare you do that to me?” You watched Wooyoung’s smile fall. “Do you want me to tell Hongjoong? Because he’s gonna kill you if he learns you’re playing with me-”

“Who said I’m playing?” His voice was serious. “I just like to see you all riled up like that-”

“Oh?” You put your hands on your hips as you stared at his bulge. “You like to see me riled up? Does that turn you on, Wooyoung? Maybe I should give Haeun some pointers-”

You shut up when Wooyoung casually put his hand on top of his bulge and gave it a rub, licking his lips as he looked at you. You shook your head, stepping towards him, ignoring the red alert in your brain that told you none of this made sense, but there was one thing about you- you didn’t believe in eye for an eye, you believed in doing worse in retribution.

And Wooyoung had no right making you feel that way. So you put your hand under his chin, making him look up at you. “Look at you. Practically on your knees for me, aren’t you?”

“Not yet, Princess,” he shook his head. “You’ll be on your knees before me.”

“You wanna bet on that, pretty boy?” You cocked your head, running your thumb over his lips and when they parted, you slid it in and watched him suck it. He could still taste the chocolate you had just been eating. You took it out, trailing it down his chin and down the neck, putting your hand around his neck and examining how it looked, squeezing it a little to make his mouth part for air. “My hands make a nice enough necklace, I think.”

“Are you going to give me something that’d go along with it?” His voice was husky.

“Do you want me to?” You asked, testing his patience and you saw his eyes glaze. He gave you a subtle nod and you drew closer until your noses were brushing, giving his neck a little squeeze as you trailed your lips to his ears and whispered-

“Then beg for it.”

Wooyoung groaned, grabbing your free hand and keeping you in your place. You let your lips trail down his neck for good measure before drawing away and seeing the desperation in his eyes. You scoffed. “You’ve got the look right. You just need to say it out loud, Prince.”

“You know I could make you beg for that right now, don’t you?” He asked and you shrugged. “I’m only letting you do this because I want you to.”

“Oh? Submissive tonight, are we?” You laughed, cupping his face and kissing right next to his lips. “There’s your reward.”

There was a moment of pause where you both contemplated just what had happened before Wooyoung finally lost it and decided to have his way with you- he got up quicker than you could process and had your face in his hands and was kissing you like a man deprived of air and you were quicker to respond by parting your mouth and letting his tongue in for a heated kiss, your hands fisting his collar for support. You moaned loudly in the kiss and he swallowed it, not giving you a moment to breathe as he led you to the wall so he could lean down and angle his face better in the kiss.

If you began to wonder what you were feeling, you could only explain it as something inside you breaking free, some wall that had been there falling down- something like that. Your brain was mush, your heart feeling things you had never felt before, but what you felt most was the unmistakable desire coursing through you. You broke the kiss and gasped for air as he rested his forehead against yours, repeatedly pecking your lips while you caught your breath.

“You’re… insane,” you breathed and he chuckled deeply, brushing his nose with yours and making you bite your lips as you resisted doing something stupid- but maybe… maybe now you could. 

After all, you two couldn’t simply go back from here so while you were at it… you could enjoy it.

And see him suffer, the voice in your head said. You smirked, fisting his shirt and pushing him away, shaking your head as you pushed him back until he sat down on the bed and you got on top of him. He was about to hold your leg and position it to his preference but you muttered a ‘nuh-uh’, instead making him spread his legs so you could press your knee lightly on his bulge and as he moaned, you kissed him for a few moments, one hand supporting you on top of him while the other slowly crept behind his neck and tugged at his long hair when you broke the kiss.

You examined how he looked in that moment- lids heavy, lips parted and wanting more, throat bobbing- you scoffed and grabbed his tied hair, fisting it so you could angle him as you finally started kissing his neck and found the sweet spot when you felt his bulge twitch under your knee’s pressure. You started licking and nibbling there without holding back- he needed to feel more than what he had made you feel, so you made sure you made him groan multiple times as you planted the mark. Somewhere between it, his hand had travelled to your waist and was squeezing your hips- you tried to ignore it but your core was throbbing very painfully now. 

You finished your work and admired it, making Wooyoung laugh in disbelief. “All this for revenge?”

“What can I say?” You smacked your lips. “You gave me something to look forward to.”

Wooyoung bit his lip out of habit and considered the fact that you were still pressing your knee where he wanted to. Before he could do something about it, though, you drew away, brushing your clothes. 

“We’re done here,” you told him and he stifled his groan- he liked what game you were playing with him and he was not going to be the one to admit defeat first. 

“For now?” He dared ask.

You licked your lips as you scanned him ever so slowly and nodded. “That’s on you. This- what happened tonight? That’s on you too. Don’t get any ideas, and remember-” you pointed your finger at him but then decided against it, lowering it. “Remember- this means nothing.”

You weren’t sure if the look that passed Wooyoung was hurt or regret but he needed to realise that if he had started this game with you, he was going to be the one who'd decide his fate. “This means nothing… unless I want it to mean something, right?”

You didn’t answer that, but it looked like he had understood, so you told him not to follow you before leaving the room and going straight to your own, going to the sink and washing your face with cold water and gripping the sink as you looked at your reflection in the mirror.

Oh, how you had wanted to let him do things to you, but…

But Wooyoung understood. He had taken the first step, dissolving the unmistakable sexual tension between you two that had been there for years now. He had risked it all, and your response had been unexpected but now that he thought about it, it was something you’d do, and deep down, he knew it. He knew that you hated losing. If he had simply kissed you and confessed that he was interested in you, you would never have responded because of the strange love-hate relationship you two had for years now.

Friends, you called yourselves. Were you friends? Yes, but did friends do this type of stuff? Probably not, he laughed to himself as he recalled when something had possessed him to mark you. He just couldn’t resist it when you wore the necklace that he had chosen for you. Yes, it was from his mother, but he was always the one who picked the gifts for you. Would you have worn it if you knew?

As he lay down to sleep, he was plagued with such questions for most of the night and he wondered if he could stop things here or take the next step and find himself falling in dangerous, perhaps unwelcomed territories.

—--------------------

It looked like Wooyoung was taking his sweet time deciding just what he wanted. You didn’t avoid him anymore. In fact, you two were pretty normal around each other now, occasionally arguing like always, sometimes teaming up to bully one of your friends- just the usual. You were bullying San right now because he seemed to have a few loose memory screws.

“Forget world history, San, you don’t even remember your own life history,” you laughed. “You really don’t remember that time you held a whole debate about butts being what- one?”

“I think he insisted on two,” Wooyoung laughed. “Honestly, I kind of agree.”

“No, we’re not doing this,” Yunho shook his head aggressively. “Look at this-” he raised his hands in the air and you choked on laughter. “One buttcheek and the other- there are two buttcheeks but they belong to one butt-”

“It’s not that deep!” You laughed. “We’ve done this before, so let’s shut up now- there are people watching, and for goodness’ sake, Wooyoung, grab Yunho’s hands- he’s making weird gestures.”

Wooyoung pulled Yunho’s hands down, all of you laughing. You noticed the girl Yunho was interested in watching him from the other end of the room and you kicked his leg from under the table. “Still not asked her to the dance tomorrow?”

Yunho’s eyes went wide in realisation. “I was so busy planning the thing that I forgot I had to attend too!”

San shook his head in disappointment and Wooyoung urged him to go and ask someone out. Yunho looked at the rest of you. “Who are you going with?”

“Yuju,” San said and you raised your brows- that was news. “No, it’s nothing like that,” he laughed. “We just waited too long to ask who we actually wanted to, so we plan to catch their attention tomorrow night.”

“Ah, what interesting lives you’re living,” you sighed dramatically. 

“Who are you going with anyway?” Yunho asked.

“Lost a bet and now I have to accompany him tomorrow.”

San laughed but Yunho seemed to have caught on. “I see… He doesn’t seem too sad about it.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” you challenged. “Any chance to torment me, he happily takes.”

“Eh, come on,” Wooyoung poked your thigh. “It’s not that bad.”

“You tell yourself that,” you said dismissively. “You better not send me a sack tonight.”

“You’d look pretty in a sack though,” Wooyoung said quite seriously.

“Ew,” San got up. “Stop flirting with her every chance you get, Wooyoung.”

“I’m going to ask her,” Yunho got up. “Wish me luck!”

You watched the duo scatter and you glared at Wooyoung. “I’m serious. Don’t send something stupid.”

“I won’t. I’ve got this brilliant, most seductive red dress that I just have to see you in-”

“I’ll tear it to pieces if I think it’s too much,” you promised and he laughed, getting up and purposefully squeezed your shoulder before exiting the room. You froze for a second but then noticed Haeun eyeing you and mouthed an aggressive ‘what?’ before turning to find the girls.

That night, you found a box in your room with a note attached to it. You ignored the note and opened the box, revealing a red, flowy dress and you wowed when you took it to the mirror and saw how good it looked on you. If Wooyoung had chosen it for you personally, he really did have a good eye. You called a maid and wore the dress to see if it needed any alterations, but it was a surprisingly perfect fit save for the shoulders which could be fixed with a stitch.

“Wherever did you find someone who knows exactly what would look good on you?” The maid sighed dreamily. 

“I think he just got lucky,” you laughed.

“I think he knew exactly what he was doing,” she winked at you, finishing the stitching and taking her leave. You sat down with a glass of water and noticed the attached note and considered burning it but then curiosity took the better of you and you opened it-

“The only reason I got this for you is so that I can take it off for you tomorrow night.”

You bit your lip to stifle your smile as you looked up in disbelief, cursing yourself internally at the way your stomach did a flip after reading that. You even considered getting rid of the dress, but it would be such a shame-

And truly, when you wore it and got ready, hair tied messily in a bun with loose tendrils framing the mask on your face, red painted on your lips, you had to admit- Wooyoung had you wrapped around his fingers. He was messing with your mind- no wonder you got so dolled up for him.

So the only thing you could do tonight was to not let him get the better of you. When he knocked on your door, you composed yourself and opened it but all composure broke when he grinned shamelessly.

“You look like a hyena when you smile like that,” you commented, about to step out but he held your wrist and got you both inside so quickly that before you knew it, he had pinned you against the door. 

“You have no idea how crazy you’re making me right now,” he whispered against your ear and you kicked his shin lightly, making him wince as you stepped away.

“Enough of that. We have a ball to attend,” you went to the mirror to look at yourself for the last time. “Wear your mask.”

“I couldn’t tie it properly, so I was hoping you could pin it for me,” he dragged a seat in front of you and sat on it, handing you the mask. You rolled your eyes but grabbed a few pins from the mantle before coming back to assess the situation.

“You should get a haircut,” you said, running your hands through his hair as you tied it in a half pony, letting the bangs from the front loose. 

“First thing when I get home,” he said and you nodded, fixing his mask and asking him if it fit well before tying it and then pinning it with his hair. You were almost done when you noticed him smiling at your reflection in the mirror.

“What?”

“I’m getting… deja vu,” he said and you slapped the back of his neck but he grabbed your wrist and made you face him.

“Wanna do something about this?” He pointed at the still fading bruise on his neck- the one you gave him. 

“What, did you not go around parading it for the past 3 days?” You asked and he scoffed.

“If you want me to exhibit it, then sure,” he nodded. “I could tell people that you gave it to me.”

“Oh, honey,” you grabbed Wooyoung’s chin in your hand and made him look up at you, leaning forward a bit. “No one’s gonna believe that.”

You felt his throat bob as he licked his lips and swallowed and you watched him for a moment too long before making him tilt his head and then you did the unthinkable- you pressed your lips against the faded bruise so now it had the mark of your red lipstick instead.

“That’s better, yeah?” You scoffed before exiting the room, grinning when you heard him shout ‘You’re crazy!’ from the room before he followed you, your grin widening when you saw he hadn’t erased that and that it was going to be visible for the rest of the night.

You entered the ballroom and greeted anyone who recognised you both through the masks, most of them shooting Wooyoung funny looks because of the kiss mark on his neck. Anyone who asked, Wooyoung joked about Yeosang being the one who did it which earned a good laugh. A few moments later, you found your spots at the dance floor where the dances were going to be held before everyone would start partying after the King and Queen would leave.

The first dance was as normal as dancing with Wooyoung could get- occasional teasing comments, you purposely stepping on his toes, him wincing louder than he should, and then you switched partners for the rest of the dances, rotating until the last song where you’d dance a slow one with your actual partner. You got to dance with Seonghwa who had quite a few things to say about your choice of dress but you shut him up when you told him it was from Wooyoung.

“Wooyoung?” He gaped at you. “Why would he?”

“Why would he,” you wondered as well, and then you switched to dance with Yeosang.

“I’m hearing a really sick rumour about me and Wooyoung,” he said as soon as you began dancing and you failed to stifle your smile. “I hope you’ve got nothing to do with the origin of that rumour.”

“Of course not,” you smiled innocently. “That’s Wooyoung’s doing. Shall we murder him together?”

“Let’s,” he agreed, and then you chatted about your plans for your group hangout tomorrow, deciding the menu.

During the next dance with the Prince of Halaland- Haeun’s younger brother Haneul, he introduced himself, you asked him if he was still good friends with Yunho and learned that that was why he was here.

“I know things with my sister are a bit… rocky, but I hope you don’t mind her,” he apologised on her behalf and your heart softened.

“Oh, not at all,” you told him. “We used to be friends, after all, Haeun and I. I know what she feels right now but I’m not going to entertain her until she comes to her senses.”

“At least one of you is being wise about this-”

“I do tease her on purpose sometimes, though,” you winked and he laughed, saying that as friends, you could do that whenever you were going through a rough patch. Finally, you switched for the last dance and found yourself in a grumpy Wooyoung’s arms.

“You were getting really chummy back there,” he commented.

“Are you jealous?” You asked and he nodded enthusiastically, making you laugh. “Well, you don’t own me.”

“Ah,” he sighed. “I wish I did.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mask. “You know, I would really like to know what’s going on in your head. What was with that note?”

“Did you keep it safe?” He smiled cheek to cheek.

“I burned it.”

He shook his head. “What are we gonna do about that fiery temper of yours? Well, to make things simpler, Princess, this dress you’re wearing is not helping at all with my newfound desire to… fuck you.”

“Newfound?” You scoffed. “Are you sure that’s new? Because if I begin to think back, I think you’ve always had one screw loose when it concerns me.”

“Hmm… food for thought,” he agreed. “Shall I then entail the things I’d like to do to you tonight?”

“Go ahead, do your worst,” you decided to play along.

“Well,” he twirled you and brought you back in his arms as you rocked to the slow melody just like everyone else. “When this is over, I’m gonna take you to your room and wipe that bloody lipstick off your lips with my own. And then…” he licked his lips and you found his hold on your waist tightening so you curled the hair on the nape of his neck. “Then I’m going to take this dress off and mark you wherever I please.”

“Oh,” you said nonchalantly. “And then?”

“And then,” he shook his head in amusement. “Then I’m going to find out if your pussy is as filthy as your mouth.”

This time the gasp that left was every bit real. “Jung Wooyoung!”

“You asked for it,” he whispered in your ear. “Tonight, I’m going to have my way with you, Princess. I’m going to be the one in control. Tomorrow, though… I could let you do whatever you please to me.”

“I never said I wanted any of this, did I?” You asked.

“You don’t need to,” he brought you closer. “Your body responding to me is indication enough.”

You bit your lips as you felt arousal pool through you and just like that, the final dance was over and the partners bowed to each other. Wooyoung said that he would find you later and dispersed in the crowd and you made your way to the drinks because there was no way you could do this without being a little high.

The rest of the night went by chatting with your friends and eating and laughing, a blur until you spotted Wooyoung waving at you from the door and calling you to join him. 

“It’s past midnight, but it doesn’t look like this party is gonna end anytime soon,” he said. “So how about you and I… take our leave?”

“What do you really plan to do?” You poked his chest and Wooyoung raised a brow.

“Are you… drunk?”

“Maybe a little,” you sighed. “I can’t do this if I’m sober.”

“Oh, that says a lot about you,” Wooyoung scoffed. “I know you’re not drunk, just a little tipsy. And now I know you want to do this as much as I do. And if you think you can’t do it when sober…” he leaned in, “That means I must have quite an effect on you.”

“Right, maybe, and partly wrong,” you confirmed, taking his arm and pretending he was escorting you to your room like a decent human to anyone who was passing by. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but hold that thought- I think I like where we’re going. No strings attached though. Three months here, Wooyoung. Then we’re just like we were before, is that a deal?”

“Hmm… that’s a deal. But I must place a bet on that,” Wooyoung opened the door of your room and you stepped inside, watching him shut the door and then take off his mask. “You’ll be begging me to stay when it’s time to go back.”

“Oh, how highly you think of yourself. Shouldn’t it be the other way round?” You smirked and he drew closer, pulling the string of your mask so it fell in his hands and he discarded it with his own. You unclasped the fancy hook of his coat and started unbuttoning it. “I think… I think you’re gonna actually fall for me before our time here is over.”

Wooyoung made an impressed face. “Make me fall for you then. Try your best.”

“Wow, I thought you were not going to be submissive tonight- you really can’t make up your mind, can you-”

Wooyoung cupped your face in his hands, scanning it ever so slowly and you mouthed ‘what?’. He only shook his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I don’t understand how we got here, but I really like what I see right now, y/n.”

The only sound present was the cackling of the fireplace and the sound of your breaths mingling as he drew a bit closer, joining his forehead with you. “If it’s too much, if you want to stop, tell me to stop, okay? Because I don’t think I can hold back once you give me the heads-up.”

You sighed. “I’m going to pretend that I’m drunk and I’m letting you do this, okay?” 

You didn’t wait for his response but made the first move, capturing his lips in a kiss and he eagerly responded, your lips fitting with each other like it was supposed to have happened that way. You shrugged his coat off, leaving him in his black button up shirt and took a step forward so he could hold you against him because you wanted to feel every bit of him as much as he wanted to. He drew apart, picking you up effortlessly and you laughed a bit as he placed you on the table and hastily put your stray hair away from your face as he kissed you again.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, not feeling much through all the layers your dress had. Wooyoung seemed to have recognised the problem and let one hand travel to your back to figure out what to do while he put his tongue in your mouth and you exchanged heated, wet kisses, the lewd sound of it filling the room because you both knew you were enjoying that way too much. You pushed him back and muttered, “The fucking dress you chose, Wooyoung.”

He laughed, peeking back and finding the hidden zip, glancing at you once before sliding it down and down. You held on to his neck as you rose up a little so he could drag it down, leaving you in-

“Wow,” he breathed, admiring the black lace undergarments that you wore on purpose tonight.

“Like what you see?” You dragged your heels up his leg. “You, shirt off, now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he winked, unbuttoning his shirt and putting his toned chest on display, about to take it off but you told him to leave it, bringing him back where he belonged- in your arms, legs wrapped around his waist and this time he bent you down as he kissed so passionately that you moaned loudly and tugged at his hair.

“Enough of that,” he muttered, “I’ve got other plans. Shall we take this to bed?”

“I think this is more… exciting,” you tilted your head, kissing the mark on his neck that you had left. “I think I should do this everyday so everyone knows who you belong to.”

“Oh?” He caressed your cheek. “I think everyone believes that’s Yeosang-”

“Shh…” you kissed his neck again, making him chuckle. “So. You’ve successfully managed to wipe off my lipstick and take my dress off. What’s next?”

“Let’s see…” he ran his hands down your shoulders, tracing your waist next and you let him run his hands everywhere on your body as if he was memorising it himself, engraving your curves in his mind. He began at the same spot on your neck, biting it, his hands going to your waist and sliding to hook your panties in his thumbs that he pulled up to make you moan. He let you guide his face wherever you wanted him, let you guide him down so he could plant another hickey on your chest, and then he was trailing kisses down your waist and you stifled your groans until he reached dangerously down and you gasped.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight, you hear me?” He promised and you nodded as he went up to kiss you again while his fingers found their way under your panties and slid along your wet folds once, twice and then thrice- but he was not letting you breathe as he kissed you as well. Your legs were weak and apart now, one hand on his shoulder for support while the other moved around helplessly. 

“What’s got you so wet for me, Princess?” he muttered as he broke the kiss and trailed his lips to your ears, nibbling at them. “Want me so bad? Huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered and he stopped right there.

“Beg for it, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Wooyoung-”

“I said, beg for it.”

You shut your eyes in defeat, feeling his finger still hovering over your painfully throbbing clit. “Please, Wooyoung, please. Do whatever you want.”

“Now that’s a good girl,” he chuckled, kissing your lips and then straightening, pinning your neck to the table with one hand while he finger fucked you and your mouth parted for air as you locked eyes with him- his gaze alone was making you breathless but the way he watched you while he slid his finger inside and out of you? It was mad.

“So fucking tight,” he slid another finger and you writhed under him as best as you could when he had you pinned down. “Never been fucked, have you?”

“I have,” you managed to say, “But…”

“Not like this, huh?” His voice was deep and he squeezed your neck a little when he found out exactly how to bring you to your high- his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers teased your insides. He watched you carefully and just when it looked like you couldn’t take it anymore, he took his fingers out, examining them before making you look at him as he licked them clean and you, surprisingly enough, found it arousing enough to shiver entirely.

“Mmm, you taste better than I expected,” he commented, sliding your panties off in a second and admiring your swollen area. “So ready for me, aren’t you?”

“Please, just do something,” you whined shamelessly and he chuckled, spreading your legs apart as much as you could and blowing on your clit, making you gasp out loud, later horrified by the sound that came out of you as he laughed. “You’re gonna regret this-”

“Tomorrow, Princess,” he promised. “Tonight, it’s my turn,” he said, diving right in and planting a kiss on your clit, making you want to clench your thighs but his grip on your legs was too strong for that, so you told him to wait and got up a little.

“I want… to watch you,” you admitted. “Grab me a cushion.”

“Wow, okay, easy there,” he teased though his hard-on revealed just how much that turned him on. He made sure you were comfortable and then kissed you on your mouth until you tasted yourself on him before he got on his knees for you, just like you had wanted to, and began to kiss your inner thighs, trailing his lips to your core and practically making out with it before he started with his tongue sliding inside you, feeding on your moans as he ate you out. You tugged at his hair and when his nose brushed your clit, you almost screamed.

“Just… just like that,” you told him and he purposely brushed his nose against your clit again before continuing to lick your arousal like he wouldn’t get to ever again, his grip on your legs tightening so much you were sure they would leave a mark of their own. He found his pace, tongue sliding once inside you and then up your folds, caught you shivering and repeated that until you were moaning so loudly anyone passing by could hear. The knot in your stomach built and tightened at an uncontrollable pace and you pulled Wooyoung even closer to you which was when he sucked your clit and you reached the climax, shuddering violently as he finished his ministrations, leaving you feeling like you were on cloud nine and could never find your way back.

“I never thought…” he began, wiping his mouth, “that this could be so fulfilling.”

You didn’t respond, simply tried to catch your breath and get your brain to work again. Wooyoung started trailing kisses until he reached your face and made you look at him. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

“You… are such a slut,” you managed to say and he laughed out loud, kissing you once. 

“You love that and you know it,” he patted your cheek, picking you up and taking you to your bed, going through your wardrobe and picking out a green nightgown. You tossed your bra away and he raised a brow- he hadn’t seen that yet.

“Like what you see, huh?” You said tiredly. “Come here.”

He tossed the gown on the bed and you made him lie down, sliding his pants down while he looked confused. You simply said, “You look like you need it too. Now be a good little boy and let me do this.”

He chuckled and you pressed his hard bulge, earning a moan instantly which made you smile. You slid his boxers down, revealing his hard length and suddenly, you were sure you could go for a much intense second round but you held yourself back- not tonight. Not now. So you rubbed your hands up and down his length, making his eyes roll back with pleasure and you kissed the tip of it, licking down a stripe and then jerking him off, his breathy moans filling the silence of the room. You made him watch you please him until he came all over himself. 

“I’m a good girl, alright?” You smirked as you grabbed your discarded panty and wiped his cum off of his stomach, making him groan and laugh. “I clean up well.”

“You’re too much,” he shook his head. “You… you’re too much for me.”

“Please, you have seen nothing yet,” you promised, getting on top of him and kissing him deeply, making his length rest between your parted folds and you dared to grind once, the both of you moaning. “You… have seen nothing yet, Wooyoung.”

With a final kiss, you wore your nightgown and he grabbed his boxers, about to get up but you grabbed his arm. “You can sleep here, you know.”

“I don’t think I can hold myself back if I do,” he shook his head, getting up and wearing the rest of his clothes. “Maybe next time… I might.”

You smiled at that and he kissed your forehead before telling you to get some sleep, but you lay lovestruck all night.

—----------------------------

“That’s it. I’m going home. Pack your stuff, Hongjoong and Seonghwa-”

Wooyoung laughed at that and you glared at him. He raised his hands in surrender. “What? I’m only offering to help!”

“He’s mocking me, don’t you see?” You turned to your Right Hand and Advisor. “He purposefully announces that I am avoiding horse-riding, mentioning nothing of my injury so everyone would think I’m scared of horses- which I am, a little, also thanks to this brat!”

“Oh, come on, are you still sour about that one time? We were 13!”

You were 13, visiting Wooyoung. That was probably the summer your relationship started changing from inseparable friends to frenemies, mostly because Wooyoung was always pranking you and teasing you about something. He had played a prank with a horse, making you believe the horse had gone rogue and you almost thought you would die. He got a beating from his mother after that incident but that didn’t stop him from being a smug ass and joking about it every now and then.

You were a bit traumatised after that and it always took you a while to get used to horses before you’d feel comfortable again. But this time, you really had your ankle injury as an excuse to avoid riding, though now your ankle was fully healed and it was about time you went back…

“I’ll take my time getting comfortable with the horses. I don’t trust him. I’m not taking up his offer, please translate it to him because he seems to not be understanding anything I’ve said so far.”

Seonghwa groaned loudly. “You both still act like you’re 13. Wooyoung, please stop being a jerk about this. And y/n… stop overreacting. If anyone else had offered you the same thing, you would have accepted.”

“Yes, I would have, but this is Wooyoung!” You pointed at him and even Hongjoong started laughing along with Wooyoung. “I cannot trust him!”

“Really?” Wooyoung raised a brow. “You don’t trust me with this, but you trust me enough to do other things-”

“Shut up,” you glared at him, looking at Seonghwa. “What can I do to get him off my back?”

“I’ll join, okay?” Seonghwa got up. “If Wooyoung tries anything funny I’ll stop him.”

“Does it have to be him?” You groaned.

“Honestly, you two need to work out your differences- you’re both adults now,” Hongjoong began and you almost cried. Your own court was ganging up on you. “I don’t get you two. One moment you’re trying to kill each other and the next…”

You met Wooyoung’s eyes and he passed you a flirty gaze before winking, and you stifled a smile. Hongjoong seemed to have caught that- “See! I don’t know what’s wrong with you two. What do you say, Seonghwa? They look chummy enough to do this together, let’s leave them be.”

“Wait, what did I do?” You laughed but Hongjoong and Seonghwa weren’t having any of it.

“They’re kids, both of them. You, Princess, are going to be riding a horse by yourself by the end of this session, otherwise I’ll make you do my paperwork for a week.”

You passed Seonghwa a death glare before asking Wooyoung to lead the way, ignoring how the two snickered behind your back. Wooyoung was clearly enjoying it but he promised to be serious.

And surprisingly, he was serious. He made you feel out the horse, made you get comfortable with it until you could pet it, and then he made you walk it with you. You were squirming most of the time but started to feel comfortable after about half an hour, which was when he helped you up. You winced a little as you settled in front of him on the horse.

“What’s wrong? Ankle still hurts?” He asked.

“Just wrong footing, it’s okay,” you told him and he patted your thigh.

“You should be more careful, y/n. How did you get it injured in the first place?”

“Aw, are you worried?” You turned and scratched his chin, making him shut his eyes in annoyance. “Yeah, well, I fell from the stairs.”

“So clumsy,” he shook his head. “You should take good care of your body, okay?”

You shrugged, holding the reins and he put his hands on yours, ready to ride. He rested his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “What do you say I give you a foot massage tonight?”

“That won’t be necessary, thank you very much,” you answered politely and he laughed, kissing your neck before drawing back and you gasped-

“Not in public!”

“Come on, I do that to everyone, no one cares,” he simply said and you shrugged- that was true.

“Do you do that to everyone too?” You asked as you rode at a slow pace.

“What?” Wooyoung’s teasing tone was an indication that he understood exactly what you meant.

“Whatever you’ve been doing with me lately,” you swallowed. “Do you mess around?”

“Nope,” he promised. “Only you.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach, stifling your smile. “Better be only me while we’re… together?”

“Together,” he squeezed your hands before tightening the reins so the horse increased its pace. “How are you feeling?”

“What?” You asked after a moment.

“About the horse. Are you okay?”

You realised you’d been too busy feeling Wooyoung’s body against you, his hands on yours, his words and breath in your ear, his face against your side that you’d totally forgotten about the horse and your little fears about messing up.

“I- I’m okay, surprisingly.”

“I knew I’d make a good distraction,” Wooyoung said proudly.

“You do actually,” you laughed. “I don’t think I’m distracted enough though.”

“Oh?” Wooyoung drew closer so the rocking of the horse made you fall in a rhythmic movement with his body. “How about now?”

“I think… I’d need aftercare,” you teased and he chuckled deeply.

“Do you flirt like this with anyone?”

“Only you,” you said and he shook his head, speechless for once.

As promised, once you were all done with the horse-riding and you were following the others to dinner, falling behind as you looked around for Yuju, Wooyoung grabbed your arm and put a finger on his lips to tell you to stay quiet, taking you around the corridors until he tried one of the doors and found a small storage room, taking you in and shutting the door, immediately cupping your face and kissing you as if it was his last time. Your knees went weak in shock and you held on to him as you kissed him back, snaking your arms around his neck.

“God, I missed your mouth,” he pecked your lips. “I missed you.”

You hmm-ed against his neck, making him exhale deeply. You pecked his neck and then caressed his face. “I’ve been aching for you, Wooyoung.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he laughed in defeat. “What do you want me to do?”

You kissed him in answer and his hands went to slide under your blouse, holding your bare waist as you explored each other’s mouths, not even bothering to stay quiet. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of your panties and you gasped in his mouth, shaking your head.

“Not now- we’ll be late for dinner. Everyone will notice.”

“Tonight then?” He asked.

“I’m sleeping with Yuju tonight. Tomorrow night?”

“I have to go to town tomorrow night with Yunho,” he said and you groaned. “I’ll find you, though. Tomorrow.”

You nodded, kissing him one last time before exiting first and making up the excuse of trying to find Yuju when your friends asked why you were late. Wooyoung arrived a few moments later and you ate dinner without meeting eyes, the remnants of desire still getting the better of you both.

That night, Yuju came over to your room and you both caught up on your lives now that you two finally had time alone. You two were eating chocolates on the bed as you talked about the flings back home, politics, family, and everything. She was one of your oldest friends so it always felt extremely comfortable with her. You were both bare with each other.

“So,” you shifted so you were lying down on your stomach like Yuju. “Any progress with Seonghwa?”

“No, but…” she smiled and hid her face and you poked her arm.

“But what? Why are you shy all of a sudden?”

“I don’t think I’m into Seonghwa anymore,” Yuju admitted, putting her hands on her cheeks.

“And my plan to get Seonghwa hitched fails yet again,” you sighed. “You look like you have more to tell.”

“Make a guess, y/n.”

You paused, your past conversations replaying in your head and you gasped. “You! You hooked up with San, didn’t you!”

Yuju laughed and you wowed in disbelief, asking what exactly happened. She sighed happily. “We were pursuing other people, teaming up to make them jealous. But during the ball, we never left each other’s side. We were too busy with each other, and before we knew it, the ball ended. He came to drop me to my room, and somehow… We ended up making out-”

“Ew! That’s cute but disgusting.”

“We were drunk,” Yuju laughed, slapping your arm. “But he… oh my god, y/n, I’ve never been kissed better. You need to get San to kiss you once because he-”

“Yuju, shut up!” You groaned. 

“And then we sat on the floor all night talking and making out. We passed out I don’t know when, but we woke up in each other’s arms then, pretty sober. I guess we couldn’t go back from there…”

“So you two are now an actual thing?” You asked and Yuju shrugged. 

“Maybe. We haven’t put a name to it but he asked me out on a date this weekend so I guess… we might be?”

“Wow, you’re living the life, huh?” You smiled. You were happy for them, though this was the most unexpected outcome. “You guys actually make a cute couple, but I’ll need a few days to process this-”

“I know,” she laughed. “It really was unexpected for us too. Anyways, enough about me. Tell me who you’re seeing these days because you’ve been glowing lately.”

“Really?” You frowned. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Lies,” she sang. “You reek of love.”

You made a face but couldn’t stifle your smile and Yuju repeatedly poked you on your stomach until you gave in. “Okay, okay. Wooyoung and I may have, uh…” you tried to find a word but couldn’t. “We, uh… we’re not dating, hell no. But we-”

“You hooked up with Wooyoung!” Yuju’s scream, you were pretty sure, could be heard for miles. You tried to shut her up but she was dancing around the room.

“I fucking knew it!” She laughed in disbelief. “I knew there was no way you weren’t fucking each other. You’d be blind if you haven’t noticed how Wooyoung looks at you-”

“He’s a pervert, of course he looks at me like that-”

“No, you don’t see, y/n,” Yuju shook her head knowingly. “I know it when a man is in love, and I know that you both would rather die than admit you’re in love, but everyone knows it, you hear me? Everyone sees it.”

“No they don’t,” you frowned.

“Yes, they’re all pretty sure you have something going on.”

“That’s old news though,” you said. “People always thought there was something between me and Wooyoung even when there was nothing but pure hate.”

“But how do you feel about him now?” Yuju wiggled her brows.

You sighed deeply, sitting and drawing your knees to your chest. “I don’t know, actually. We’re only taking advantage of each other, it’s nothing like that, but… I’ve never felt so… alive, Yuju. He brings out a different person in me- one that even I don’t know existed.”

“Oh?” Yuju raised her brows. “Tell me more.”

“Well,” you thought about it. “He just… makes me feel more confident in myself. I don’t know if he’s pretending to or if it’s real but he makes me feel like a fucking queen which is funny because in public we miss no chance to humiliate each other, but when we’re alone… even when we’re not hooking up which is pretty recent by the way, he just always says or does something that makes me confused.”

“It sounds like you didn’t really get that part right. It doesn’t sound like you’re actually taking advantage of each other.”

“We’re only hooking up while we’re here, because we’re both lonely.”

“Yeah, whatever helps you both sleep at night,” Yuju dismissed. “So the hickey was from him, right?”

You passed her a side-eye before nodding. “I was so confused when he did that to me. He made me watch it. Like we were having a cute platonic moment and suddenly he does something like that and expects me to be the same? And then he’s driving me insane so I decided to get revenge, and one thing led to another and somehow, we’re here.”

“Damn,” Yuju breathed. “You’ll figure it out soon, I hope, but I don’t think you can go back from that.”

“I know, that’s what’s eating me up,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can go back from this, but…” you took a deep breath. “It’s only the beginning. I’ll think about that later.”

“Yeah, because right now you two are horny and are pretending to not be in love as you satisfy each other. What a great idea, especially when you two are always at each other’s throats!” Yuju laughed. “Must call for some wild sex-”

“Shut up,” you laughed, “Wait till you get it done with San. I can’t wait until he finds out what a hoe you can be.”

Yuju winked at you. “He’s not such a saint himself.”

“Really?” You frowned. “He acts like a ball of cloud so I don’t know…”

“He’s a monster-”

“Okay, that’s your cue to shut up,” you put your hands over your ears. “I want to keep my clean image of San intact, thank you very much.”

—-------------------------

You were dreaming.

The tension from your shoulders was relaxing, and all your worries were fading away, being kissed away, small pecks across whatever skin was exposed through your camisole. You were sleeping on clouds so you shifted, smiling to yourself, and the hands running across your arms were warm-

You gasped as you opened your eyes, getting up and getting your eyes to adjust to the darkness as you looked at the body beside you-

“I’m sorry, did I scare you?” Wooyoung’s low voice asked, putting a worried hand over your shoulder. “I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you told him, putting your hair away from your face. “Fuck, I thought I was dreaming. When- how did you get here?”

“I may have stolen some keys…”

You started laughing at that after a moment and it looked like that made Wooyoung relax too. He pulled you closer in a hug, cradling your body. “I’m sorry that I scared you. I was only going to sleep next to you so I was giving you a few goodnight kisses. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

This. Moments like this when you wondered if it would actually be so bad if you and Wooyoung got together. And this wasn’t the first time- even when you were friends- or frenemies, as everyone called you, you had these moments a lot, which was how you were able to tolerate Wooyoung. Yes, he was a menace, but he was also the most caring, loving person you knew.

You wrapped your arms around his waist. “It’s okay, Woo. You should have woken me up, I was waiting for you.”

“Really?” He looked at you, only the full moon illuminating the room. “You waited for me?”

“You told me to, dumbass,” you slapped his chest. “What time is it anyway?”

“Around 2,” he told you and you nodded, shifting in his lap. “You wanna go back to sleep?”

Your stomach did a somersault. “Why waste the night sleeping?”

Wooyoung tilted his head as he looked down at you, one arm under you. He brought his hand to caress your face, looking at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked- there was clearly something eating him up but he shook his head before joining his lips with yours in the most slowest, sensual kiss you had ever received. He made you lie down on the bed as he continued to kiss you, slow and steady, one hand still caressing your face while the other traced your body. You found yourself lost in that pleasure- you never knew only kissing like this could make you feel so… bare. He broke apart, peppering kisses all over your face and making you giggle, then pecking your lips multiple times, never looking away from your eyes.

“Wooyoung,” you breathed. “You’re being… different.”

“Do you not like it?” He asked, waiting for your response and you frowned at how he wasn’t even teasing you about it.

“I like it,” you admitted. “Please continue.”

He smiled and got back to kissing you, trailing his lips down your neck and planting kisses there as well. You made a decision then- to not question Wooyoung. To let him be rough with you when he wanted, to let him be this soft with you even though it was making it feel like you two weren’t simply just hooking up for the heck of it, but-

Making love. That’s what it was right now, as Wooyoung took off your camisole, leaving your upper body bare. He gently ran his hands over your waist, up to your chest, palming your breasts before going down on one and kissing it, and then the other, playing with you until you moaned out loud enough to his liking. You pushed him away to take off his shirt as well, running your own hands down his chest, tracing his sculpted muscles before kissing him again and then your tongues were exploring each other’s mouth as things picked up a pace and you tugged at his hair a bit roughly, making him groan into the kiss.

“I love it when you do that to me,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking on his way down to your waist, uneven moans escaping your mouth which just seemed to please him further. He pushed the sheets away, taking off your panties and slowly ran his hands up and down your thighs, making you writhe under his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful, y/n,” he breathed against your left thigh, trailing kisses up until he reached your core and you gasped when he planted a kiss on your swollen clit before licking a stripe up your wet folds, scoffing at how wet you were just from kissing alone. “Do I make you feel so good? That you’re soaked like this?”

You bit your lips at the sudden change in his tone and he didn’t wait for your answer as he started playing with your clit using his thumb, his tongue diving right in and you let out a strangled breath, struggling to keep your thighs apart for him but then ditching the idea when he got rougher, sliding a finger in you and you clenched your eyes shut at the overwhelming sensation of the combination. He was soon sliding a second finger, glancing at you to make sure you were okay, diving deeper.

“So tight for me, aren’t you?” He got closer to your face, grabbing your chin. “You still haven’t answered my question, sweetheart.”

“What… question?” You asked, momentarily pausing when he shifted his fingers in you and started going at a slower pace, also slowing your approaching high.

“How do I make you feel?” He asked again, running his thumb over your lips and pressing against your clit with his thumb.

“So… good,” you breathed, overthrown by the action. “Please, I’m close-”

“Then tell me exactly how I make you feel,” he asked in a low voice.

“You’re driving me insane,” you told him, “But I bet you can see that too.”

He smiled in satisfaction, kissing you deeply as he started rubbing your clit in circles, the feeling of that and his fingers pumping in and out of you finally making you reach your climax and you moaned in the kiss as you squirmed, wearing out the high. He drew apart, examining the mess you had made on his hands and shaking his head at it before he licked them clean and then-

Then put his fingers in your mouth. “How do you like that? Do you like tasting yourself on me?”

You sucked them clean and breathed. “You’re really loving this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near done yet,” he promised and that quickly, a new wave of arousal spread through your body. You brought him down with you and shifted positions, getting on top of him and then slowing down pace-

If he had confused you, so could you. So you forgot everything and started kissing him gently, slowly, like he had. You found him motionless for a few moments, only kissing you back before he brought his hands to your waist, slowly caressing the skin as he let you kiss him for however long you liked.

You pulled at his lower lip before drawing back, kissing every place you liked- his forehead, the mole under his eye, the tip of his nose, his Adam's apple- that earned a groan and you started to grind on him, feeling his very hard bulge through his pants. 

“What would you like to do tonight?” You asked him as you rode him at a steady pace. “Tell me how you want me tonight, Wooyoung. I’ll let you do anything.”

“Anything?” He asked, running his hands across your shoulders.

“Anything,” you nodded, pecking his chin. “Do you want to feel yourself inside me?”

Wooyoung shut his eyes at that, smiling like an idiot. “I didn’t think that’s how you’d approach that topic.”

“It’s about time, though,” you unbuckled his pants. “So? Want me to ride you?”

“I don’t know if we can-”

“I mean… I’m on contraceptives. I could let you… fuck me raw.”

“Oh god,” he groaned, getting up and capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, drawing apart. “Can I?”

You nodded, helping him take off his pants and underwear in one motion, his hard length free now. You shifted so he could take care of it and he understood, getting on top of you and positioning himself at your entrance, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds already making you feel a rush inside yourself. You threw your head back and groaned as he entered slowly, making sure you were okay, caressing your skin as he fully entered you, experimentally moving inside you-

“Gosh, you’re so fucking tight, y/n,” he groaned with you. “This good?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Let me get on top of you.”

“As you wish,” he shifted your positions and you felt fuller, grinning at the sensation. Wooyoung ran his hands up and down your thighs, squeezing them as you started riding him, his eyes watching you rock against him, loving the way you bounced on top of him, your moans mingling as you found your pace. He sat up a little, putting his arms around you as if he could bring you closer, kissing you again and you couldn’t get enough of the feeling- skin on skin, nothing keeping you apart. 

“I love this so much,” you breathed, your legs keeping him tucked close as you rocked slowly. “I love this so fucking much, Wooyoung.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “I’ve never felt so good, you’re…” he kissed you. “Incredible.”

You wanted to tell him more. You wanted to tell him to stop. You wanted to tell him that you always wanted to feel like this, that you wished this would never end, but you also wanted to tell him to stop saying he never felt like this, that you were incredible, because you couldn’t take it. He seemed to have understood that, though.

“What’s holding us back, y/n?” he dared ask.

“I don’t know,” you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Just… right now, just ruin me and then hold me in your arms for the rest of the night. Can you do that?”

He kissed you in answer, shifting again so he was back to being on top of you, steadily pumping in and out of you as you kissed, as he wiped the tears that left your eyes. Your kisses got sloppier as you both approached your highs, moans louder, hands wilder as they explored each other, and when you finally reached your climax together-

It was epic. There was no feeling to describe it- the feeling of his body quivering on top of you, arching against each other, his moans and yours ringing in the air, every nerve in your body reaching a euphoric high as warmth filled you- you thought you could die from pleasure, that’s how intense it was. He rocked in you unsteadily as you both finished before falling on top of you and you held him close, breathless.

There was no need for words, not anymore. You shifted so you were half on top of him when he pulled out, drawing the covers on top of you both. You drew his hair away from his face, kissing his forehead and pecking one of his eyelids before joining his forehead with yours. He caressed your face ever so lovingly, kissing you once before drawing apart and continuing to caress your cheekbone.

The two of you, in each other’s arms, watched each other, sure affirmations passed in the way you caressed each other’s skin or kissed until you fell asleep.

—-------------------------

Something seemed to have changed between the two of you ever since that night, and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse.

Wooyoung was still, well, Wooyoung. He got worse at times with teasing you in public or making fun of you until you cursed him out loud in front of everyone, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

It was what you two did in private that was different.

He passed up no opportunity to get you alone and kiss you, at least, or indulge you in some dry humping. Those stolen moments, though, were nothing compared to what was going on at night time.

At first, he had been a bit distant, but then you, during one of your makeout sessions, joked about how he was so gentle that night that you wondered if someone had possessed him. You told him that you had heard a rumour that even San could be a monster in bed-

“That’s who you suggested, wasn’t it?” You recalled and Wooyoung’s gaze got hard. “I distinctly remember you telling me San would make a good suitor. Maybe I should consider-”

He obviously had no idea that you were joking and San was now with your best friend, but you wondered if it was only jealousy when he fucked you like no tomorrow, on the floor. He was rough, he was filthy, and he made you come more times in a span of an hour then you could count, making you almost cry by the end of it, but when he rocked inside of your oversensitive walls to approach your almost-there climax, he had the audacity to choke you when you came, making it more intense than it had to be as you finally cried through it.

He breathed harshly in your ear. “You’re mine. You hear me?”

“I’m yours,” you answered, squeezing his arm.

“Say it louder.”

“I’m yours,” you said with surety and he finally came inside you, collapsing beside you. 

Moments like those made you wonder where you two stood. You decided to ask him if he ever called you ‘his’ again, but he didn’t. Not again. You two kissed, fucked roughly, sometimes lovingly, but he never called you his again.

And with each passing day, that made the hole in your heart bigger.

Had you started something you couldn’t handle? Did you take him easy because he was Wooyoung, the friend you loved and hated at the same time? Did you think you wouldn’t fall for him if you were mean to him? 

Because you were falling for him-

No. You had fallen for him long ago. Maybe before you two ever kissed. 

But it was Wooyoung. You never knew what was going through his head, so you resorted to being mean to him. If your feelings were one-sided, he would never let you live it down. Perhaps you realised that ages ago and put this wall between you as your defence mechanism. He had you wrapped around his fingers all along, yet you never noticed until it was too late-

Until you experienced what it would be like to be loved by Wooyoung- if you could call what he did ‘love’- he would find your eyes from across the room and share a smile, have your back whenever Haeun or someone else bullied you (mostly because he claimed only he was allowed to bully you), look at you with an intensity that made you fold in yourself, kissed you like he needed it, held you as if you could break, as if he never wanted to let you go, and worshipped your body as he made love to you. 

You realised then, that if things stayed the same and you two parted just like this, you’d never be able to move on. You needed to let him know some way, but you also needed to find out what he felt, because it was mostly his fault for making you feel so confused. If he had simply only come to fuck you and leave, you would have understood. You would have known his only goal was to satiate his somewhat questionable desires so you’d do the same. You’d perhaps hate him more by the end of it, but since he was almost acting like he was actually your boyfriend now? He needed to be responsible for it.

Two months were nearing their end just like that. You looked up at the sky and sighed- you had chosen this spot on the roof to get some air as you sorted your thoughts out. There was another secret passageway that you accessed to get to the roof- one that Yunho told you of years ago. You had asked him a few days ago if going to the roof was still safe, which was how you found yourself here tonight, the cool breeze relaxing you as you stretched-

You heard footsteps behind you and you turned, breaking into a smile. “Think of the devil.”

“I thought you’d be here,” Yunho said, sitting beside you on the bench. “Thinking about me?”

“I was wondering when you’d come find me here,” you admitted. “It’s been a while since we caught up, right?”

“Yeah, I really don’t get time to breathe these days,” he admitted, laughing. “My idea to call everyone here was good but I didn’t know it’d be this tiring.”

“Well, let’s hope you get to be the guest next summer instead of the host,” you smiled. “It’s really fun here though. Are you enjoying it?”

“Oh, I am,” he nodded enthusiastically. “There is a lot going on here.”

“Sure is,” you scoffed, knowing he was referring to the latest news. “You were right about someone going back engaged. Just never thought it’d be San of all the people.”

“Yeah,” he whistled. “I hope their parents are as enthusiastic about this idea as they are.”

“I hope so too. I hope it’s not just something they’re feeling in… the moment. Yuju’s not the type though, and neither is San.”

“What about you? Found a suitor yet?” He wiggled his brows. 

“Is that what we came here for? To find partners? You should have said in your letter ‘Matchmaking Service’ then- and what about you?”

Yunho grinned at what you said. “Me? I’m still a loner.”

“That’s what I’m asking, you idiot. Why are you still a loner? I thought she was interested in you?”

“She wasn’t serious about this. I don’t do flings,” he admitted and you felt a pang in your chest but also felt sorry for him.

“What’s her name? I’m going to kill her for breaking your heart first thing tomorrow-”

“No,” he laughed loudly. “I’m good. No hearts broken here. You, though, look like you just broke up without getting in a relationship.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head innocently.

“Come on, spill. You can’t lie to me, Yunho, you know that.”

Yunho considered for a moment. “I don’t know much. All I know is Wooyoung drunk-cried and kept calling your name.”

“Wait, Wooyoung got drunk? That’s more surprising than him crying.”

“I know,” he sighed. “You know he’s always in his senses when he’s drunk, right? He only pretends to be drunk to tease you. But this time, it was just him and me. He actually got drunk. He didn’t say anything else so I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but he was a mess, y/n.”

Your heart sank as you processed what he had said. Why would Wooyoung be a mess? Was it just because he wanted to be with you because he was drunk, or…

“Are you going to tell me anything? Because I know for a fact something happened between you two before Wooyoung became a drunken mess.”

“Really? How?”

“You two are not the best actors,” he said and you pursed your lips in shame. “Maybe no one else has noticed but honestly? Not subtle at all.”

You scoffed at that. “That’s on Wooyoung. He’s shameless.”

“You look pretty lovestruck when you think he’s not watching,” Yunho said and you sighed.

“Okay, yeah. We’re… having a fling, if you can call it that-”

“Damn, not what I expected.”

“Yeah, whatever. Problem is… I may have caught feelings for him. And now I’m realising I’ve had feelings for him from way before.”

“You could have asked me, I would have confirmed it for you,” Yunho laughed. “You’ve always looked at Wooyoung differently, y/n, whether you admit it or not-”

“That’s because he’s a menace-”

“And he also treats you differently than the rest of us- or any of us, for that matter,” Yunho added and you shut up. “You’re both too hotheaded, egotistic to ever admit you could genuinely like each other. But… I think now’s a good time.”

“Well, I’m not the one who’s doing that,” you raised your hands in surrender. “And you can tell Wooyoung that he can stop being a drunken mess, man up and talk to me about it. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I’ll convey the message,” Yunho nodded. “I hope everything sorts out. It’s be weird if you two got awkward after this.”

“Yeah,” you sighed again. “It’d be strange.”

“Because,” Yunho began, “You two always looked like you could kill each other one second and make out the next. Now it’s different because you look like you could do both of those at the same time.”

You laughed at that. “I really could. I should make up my mind, huh?”

Two days later, Wooyoung was in your room, roaming around and moving everything from its place subtly to annoy you as you finished writing and signing some important documents from back home. You signed the last one and took a deep breath, arranging everything before looking at Wooyoung from where you were sitting, currently poking at the fire.

“You seem to be tired.”

“I’m not,” Wooyoung turned to you. “What makes you think so?”

“You’re not talking,” you pointed out and he gaped at you more in surprise that you could notice that.

“Not tired,” he repeated, “just thinking about some stuff.”

“What stuff?”

“You know,” he tossed the poker away, “to keep myself from fucking you right on this table with all these ‘important documents’ under you. Maybe I could sign on your body too. Seal it with a stamp, eh?”

It was more Wooyoung’s dark gaze than his words that made you bite your lips and look away. “Shut up.”

“No, really,” he was smiling as he came closer. “I could do that right now too.”

It was amazing how quickly you became aroused when he said stuff like this. 

One moment you were sitting, and the next?

You were on that very table where he had done something like this for the first time. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked to your body as you put your arms around his neck, his hands holding your neck and angling you better as you exchanged open mouthed kisses, not caring how much sound you were making because the sound of your wet kisses made you both crazy.

“Oh god,” you moaned into his mouth. “You’re so good to me, baby.”

“You like when I do this?” He asked, kissing your neck just like he had the first time and you gasped, clenching his hair in your fist as he marked you, making you squirm underneath him. He broke apart to admire his work, smiling proudly and you slapped his arm.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said.

“Like what?”

“Just… shut up and kiss me,” you started unbuttoning his shirt and he obeyed, kissing you, letting you take off his shirt and run your hands all over his toned body, let you put a hand in his pants and palm his cock as your kisses got more heated and deeper, let you take off his pants which was when he broke apart to slide the dress off of you as well, laughing as you undressed in a hurry until nothing but air kept you apart.

You spread your arms and he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, nuzzling the space sweetly as you both rocked back and forth. 

Another moment that should not have happened.

You urged him up, trailing your lips across his face and asked him to get inside you. He scoffed in amusement, “No prep?”

“I don’t need it,” you scoffed back and he shook his head when he noticed how soaked you were. He rubbed the head of his cock over your clit and wet folds a few times, making you almost break apart before sinking inside you slowly, deeply, settling and letting you both delve in the sensation. You resorted to kissing his neck in the meanwhile and he started moving inside you slowly, surely, like he had done so many times now.

You sighed in pleasure, throwing your head back and Wooyoung gently laid you on the table, surprising you when he held your legs and put them on top of his shoulders- a new position that made his cock feel way deeper inside you, the sensation of his movements also heightened. He noticed your parted mouth and he moved experimentally, making you both gasp.

“Gosh, you’re so tight. You like this?” He asked and you nodded, letting him hold your legs by the calf as he banged relentlessly into you as if challenging you to moan louder with each thrust, and you could do nothing but deliver, your climax approaching quicker than it had in any of your previous sessions. 

“I’m- so close, Wooyoung, please,” you managed to say, trying to hold on to something on the table but finding nothing. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “I’m gonna make you see stars tonight, baby.”

That was a promise he fulfilled as he thrust deeper into you and you came all over him, breaking apart right there. Wooyoung chuckled deeply at the sight, pulling out of you.

“I’m not done with you, yet,” he told you and a faint smile crept on your lips as you asked him to take you to bed. He picked you up effortlessly and then you were on your bed and catching your breaths, him caressing your face as he kissed you deeply.

“Tell me something tonight, y/n,” he breathed against your ears after trailing kisses down that path. “Would you have done this with anyone else?”

“Done what?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“This,” he looked at you and you tucked his hair back, tracing his jawline. “I want to know if it could have been anyone else instead of me.”

Moments like these.

“And… why would you want to know that?”

You could see that he was holding back, shrugging it off with a smile. “I just do.”

“Well,” you shifted in his arms. “No one else is such a fucking menace and no one drives me crazy like you do, so I guess… probably not?”

“Gosh, I’m gonna miss this mouth of yours so much,” Wooyoung kissed you once and caressed your face. “I have to go back soon, baby.”

“How soon?” You managed to ask.

“I don’t know yet, but I know we’re short on time,” he kissed your cheek. “I want to make the most of the time we have.”

You were pretty sure he had heard the sound of your heart break- or at least caught the look in your eyes. You nodded and he paused in the middle of caressing your hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said after a moment, smiling and shifting in his arms. “Let’s just make the most of the time we have, yeah?”

He nodded though he wasn’t smiling anymore. “How do you want me tonight?”

An open invitation. You smiled sadly as you took the leap of risk. 

“I want you to hug me. I want you to kiss me like there’s no tomorrow. I want you to make love to me, not fuck me like you just did. Then I want to hold you as we sleep, and wake up with you.”

Wooyoung’s heart sank. “You know, I would have done that anyway.”

“You know, you’re really bad at keeping boundaries, Wooyoung,” you started, the rage you’d been subsiding for a while now finally brimming out. “From the moment we started whatever this is… I don’t know-” you broke off and Wooyoung held your hands as an attempt to make you face him.

“Finish saying that,” he practically ordered and you glared at him.

“I just want to know where we stand, Wooyoung. Are we ending this tonight? Are we going to be just friends the next time we meet and pretend nothing happened here? Can you forget what happened here?”

“If you want me to forget, I will,” his jaw clenched though he seemed calm. 

“And if I don’t?” You dared ask and he met eyes with you, a thousand words unspoken between you two. He moved to join his forehead with you and the way your heart fluttered was unlike any moment you had shared so far.

“I don’t know what to do with you, y/n. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Oh, god,” you drew away and hid your face in your hands as you processed that. “Just tell me how you want this to end.”

“I don’t want us to break up,” his voice was low. “I… tell me what you want. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ve told you so many times,” you cried, finally looking at him, “in so many ways. I’m still afraid you’ll make fun of me if I show you what I really want.”

“God, no. I would never make fun of something like that, so tell me how you feel about me, please. I’m begging you, and I really hope we’re on the same page here, y/n, because I don’t know how I’ll move on if we aren’t.”

“You’re stupid,” you laughed between crying, making him laugh as well. “You’re a menace and you don’t let me breathe, but you’re also my best friend and you know me like no one else does. I don’t know how long I’ve loved you like this, but it’s long enough that I got so confused, and then you pulled this stunt and now we’re here and I’m a mess because if you don’t love me like I do… I don’t think I can move on.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Wooyoung laughed, kissing your knuckles. “I’m only like this when I’m with you. You know that, right?”

You nodded and he continued. “You’re my oldest friend and I’ve loved you for so long now. I took such a risk pulling this stunt but when you… when you kissed me back that night? You looked like you wanted to hurt me. What could I make of that? I let you have your way with me, and I kept falling deeper in love with you. I love it when you call me yours. I love it when you tell me there’s no one else who could make you feel this way, but had I known these were your confessions of love, I would have dropped to my knees right there.”

You laughed at that. “You’re so… oh god, I can’t look at you right now,” you drew away and hid your face in the blankets but Wooyoung wasn’t having any of it- he got on top of you, littering kisses everywhere on your back until you had to stop him because it tickled.

“Look at me,” his voice was deep and he crawled up to you, pinning your wrists to the side as he made you meet eyes with him. “You’re beautiful in every way- even this dirty mouth of yours,” he pecked your lips and you grinned. “You’ve always had me wrapped around your fingers, do you know that? I’m always waiting for you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt like this but I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you. I love you so much, y/n-” he kissed you deeply and you met his energy back as if you could tell him that yes- you felt exactly the same. 

He let go of your wrists only to hold you to himself as he kissed you passionately, and now that your feelings were out in the open you couldn’t believe how different it felt. He craned one arm under you and held the back of your neck, the other repeatedly caressing your face as you basically devoured each other, and you made his cock slide between your folds so you could grind on him as you kissed, moaning into it and he didn’t let you breathe once. He swallowed every strangled gasp and groan that left you as he grinded back on you.

With much effort, you pulled him away only to look at him pleadingly and he understood, sliding his cock inside you and groaning loudly, peppering kisses all over your face before he hugged you.

“Gosh, I love you so much,” he tried moving but you kept your arms wrapped tightly around him, locking your legs around him.

“Please, stay like this for a moment,” you breathed, kissing his cheek. “I love this feeling. Tell me you love me again.”

“You’re going to end me,” he nuzzled your face with his nose. “I love you to death.” Your walls twitched at that and he groaned in your ears. “You like it when I tell you how much I love you?”

“Yes,” you sighed. “Oh, gosh, yes.”

“You’re mine,” he said and your walls twitched again and he couldn’t take it anymore- he thrusted inside you deep and hard, making you bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. “You hear me? You’re mine to love and mine to fuck.”

“I’m all yours,” you rocked against him. “I love you. I love you so much that it’s breaking me apart.”

Wooyoung nodded, kissing you again as he increased his pace, his thrusts wild but his kisses gentle, murmuring about how much he loved this repeatedly in your ears and when he groaned in the crook of your neck as he thrusted hard, you finally came with an unexpected rush, him joining seconds later but he kept thrusting to it as if he could mark it in your walls, deep, that he was yours and you were his.

You caught your breaths as you lay in each other’s arms and you cleared your throat. “You know, if you hadn’t been such a fucking idiot, we could have figured this out way earlier and I would not have felt like shit this whole time-”

“Shh…” he pecked your nose. “I don’t regret doing it this way. It was fun, no?”

“I’m pretty sure I would have rejected you if you asked nicely,” you wondered, nodding. “So I guess I should be thankful that you’re a menace?”

“You love it,” he grinned and you smiled, watching his breathing relax and his eyes shut.

“You better be coming to see me next month in my home with a proposal ring, Wooyoung. I’m not having you any other way.”

Wooyoung opened his eyes at that. “You sure?”

“You’re still not sure?!” You groaned. “Get out of my bed, Jung Wooyoung-”

“I’m only playing,” he laughed hysterically as you tried kicking him away. “Are we always going to be like this?”

“Isn’t this who we are?” You smiled. “No point changing now, right? Besides… I quite like you when you’re being annoying as hell.”

Wooyoung got on top of you and kissed you deeply, sliding his tongue in you and though you were tired, you found yourself making out with him again. He drew back, playing with the rock of your necklace.

“I quite like this filthy mouth of yours too. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh my god, mom’s gonna be so happy when she learns we finally gave in to each other.”

You frowned. “Did she already know?”

“Kind of. She made me buy this necklace for you and asked me to man up and confess. I had a better idea instead-”

The gasp that left you was unreal and you grabbed the nearest object- pillow- and smacked him hard, his high pitched laugh ringing in the air.

“Jung Wooyoung, you absolute brat!”

[flowerandblood]

The Gate of Salvation [3/3]

[ young pope • Aemond x catholic • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, kissing, smut, sexual tension, angst, religious guilt, doubts related to faith, chauvinism ]

[ description: During the conclave, a new pope is elected, but to everyone's surprise, he does not intend to show himself to the crowds waiting for him. His ideas terrify the cardinals, and one of them convinces his niece, who is studying marketing, to talk to the new head of the Catholic Church in his presence. Main theme: sexual tension & holy touch. ]

A mini-series created as a thank you and celebration of my 2'500 followers. I initially plan that it will have about 3 chapters.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The Song of Songs (Oneshot) Death and Ressurection (Oneshot)

Aemond as a Pope Edit Series Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After what they had done they lasted for a moment in the tight embrace of each other's arms, trying to calm their breathing, his hand stroking her soft hair.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" He asked so quietly that she barely heard him; she felt a tightening in her heart at the thought of how much she wanted nothing more and how inappropriate it was.

Nonetheless, she knew they were both scared, embarrassed and needed their closeness, proof that although the situation was complicated and hopeless, they were in it together.

"Yes." She whispered and heard him sigh loudly in relief, as if he feared that she now abhorred and hated him, that she would betray him, sell the story to the newspapers, destroy him as a man, as a priest and as a pope.

She thought that they were both complicit in this situation, and although she felt remorse knowing that she had contributed to him breaking his celibacy, some kind of warmth filled her lower abdomen.

She thought with despair that she had fallen in love with him.

She looked in her drawers for some of her uncle's old tracksuits that he had left in his flat and gave them to him to change into, showing him beforehand how to turn on the washing machine so he could clean the ones he came in. Taking advantage of the fact that he was in the bathroom, she changed into dry underwear and sighed quietly, somehow feeling clean again.

She waited for him lying on her bed – when he came out of her bathroom he looked at her for a moment standing in the entrance, clearly not knowing what to say, his face just like hers, red from tears and emotion.

"I'm sorry." He whispered helplessly. She sighed quietly, raising herself up on her elbow, looking at him with understanding.

"Do not apologise, Holy Father."

He swallowed heavily and moved towards her, startling her when he lay down opposite her and immediately hid his face in the material of her shirt between her breasts, his large hands clamped down on her back.

"Can you embrace me?" He asked uncertainly with a regret and embarrassment from which she felt a squeeze in her throat, the fingers of one of her hands sinking into his short hair while the other wrapped around his waist.

She felt him tense and wondered sadly after what she had learned, if anyone had ever hugged him, if he had found his place and understanding in someone's arms.

"Can I fall asleep like this?" He asked again. She sighed quietly, leaned in and kissed his hair, stroking it with her fingers – she felt a shiver pass through him, his hands clenched tighter on the material of her shirt.

"Yes." She whispered; she felt him move closer to her, snuggling his whole body into her, felt his desperation, the fact that he was and needed to be vulnerable, weak, protected, that he wanted to feel and love, wanted to suffer, to experience what others did.

"If it's a sin, why do I feel so peaceful?" He asked quietly, one of his hands trailing up and down her spine making wonderful shivers run through her – she nuzzled her nose into his hair, thinking on the answer.

She understood perfectly what he had in mind, because she felt the same.

She felt a kind of shame at the thought that her grief and remorse was less than she had expected and was only concerned with the fact that she was afraid someone would find out about this.

"I don't know, Holy Father. I am ashamed that my soul is so quiet now. Perhaps it hasn't yet come to us what has happened?" She asked quietly, watching as her fingers tentatively played with his hair. She heard his murmur of contentment, his face pressed tighter into her chest.

She wondered how it was possible that he could breathe in such a position.

"I need you by my side if I am to keep my sanity. I need you because Vatican is like a dark, black hole, like hell on earth, the centre of Sodom and Gomorrah." He whispered into the fabric of her shirt, his voice vibrating through her whole body, apart from their breathing all that could be heard was the quiet ticking of the clock standing on her bedside table.

She swallowed loudly, feeling her heart begin to beat faster, torn internally by her own insecurities and doubts; he felt it, his fingers gripped the fabric of her shirt tighter.

"It's too late. Too late. I can't take it back. This is God's answer to my prayers, to my plea that He not leave me alone. He sent you to me as a sign, as my revelation and salvation." He muttered, and she clenched her eyelids, feeling tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, hugging him tighter, realising with despair that he had possessed her the very first moment she saw him.

"A sign of depravity and bitterness? A taste of sorrow and eternal thirst? That is what I am and will be for you, Holy Father." She exhaled with difficulty, feeling her body begin to twitch, her breast trembled in a heavy breath. He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her, his large hand touched her cheek with a tenderness and respect from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

"No. No, you are my joy. My flower garden to which I escape with my thoughts when I am tired. My faithful need me, and I need you." He said softly, wiping with his thumb from her warm cheeks the tears that ran down her face.

"I will not go to a monastery, Holy Father. It is not my vocation." She whispered and he pressed his lips together, swallowing with difficulty.

She could see in his gaze that he was struggling with himself and his disappointment, that he wanted to somehow make sure that he would have her exclusively as a man and a Pope.

"So what is?" He asked finally; she looked at him with her eyebrows arched in pain, realising with that she didn't know the answer to that question, that she didn't know what she wanted to do after university, where she wanted to live, how she saw the next years of her life.

"I don't know. It's a very difficult question." She muttered in a trembling voice, bursting into sobs when this time it was he who pulled her close and embraced her, letting her snuggle into his chest, locking her in a tight grasp of his arms as she did before, placing warm, tender kisses on her hair, combing through it with his fingertips.

"− shhh − it's okay − I'm here for you, child − I won't let you get lost − I'll take care of you −" He whispered, and although she knew there was something ambiguous and indecent in his words, she felt relieved, her fingers tightened into fists on the material of his sweatshirt, his wonderful scent filling her lungs.

There was something wonderful and tender about the fact that neither of them tried to touch each other anymore in a way that could be perceived as purely physical – they just cuddled, stroked and intertwined their fingers. She felt the heat in her chest every time she turned in bed lying in his arms facing him, his lips placing a lingering, soft, wet kiss on her forehead.

"− sleep, child − sleep, I am with you −" He whispered tenderly. She felt butterflies in her stomach and sighed softly, cuddling her face into the hollow of his neck smelling of his perfume as they fell asleep again.

It was the most beautiful night of her life.

She was woken in the morning by the sizzle of oil in the pan; she opened her eyes, unsure for a moment where she was and pulled herself up on her bed, frowning.

She got up and walked out of her bedroom into the corridor, but stopped immediately with her heart beating fast, seeing him standing with his back to her in her kitchen, again all dressed in a white tracksuit. She realised by the smell that he was making scrambled eggs.

The Pope she had spent the night with was just making them breakfast in her kitchen.

Good God, she thought with amusement and walked closer – he heard the sound of her footsteps and turned over his shoulder, a soft contentment on his face.

"Good morning. We have to leave soon, so I decided to prepare something quick. I didn't want to wake you up. You were sleeping so peacefully." He hummed with some kind of warmth and tenderness from which her heart beat faster; she swallowed quietly, trying not to think about the fact that she felt his words deep between her thighs.

She wanted to ask him if he really thought she should still be working for him, to tell him that it wasn't wise, but she realised that there was no desire in her to object.

I will take care of you.

She wasn't sure what he meant by those words, but she knew that some part of her wanted his assurance to come true.

After a short prayer, which took her completely by surprise, and which apparently was a daily occurrence for him before every meal, they ate breakfast while listening to the morning broadcasts on the radio.

She didn't know where she should be looking, so she just focused on her plate, tasting what he had prepared, finding to her surprise that his scrambled eggs were perfectly fried and spiced. She grunted quietly and lifted her gaze to him when she suddenly remembered something important, from which she felt a cold sweat on her back.

"We should go to confession…shouldn't we?" She asked, not daring to suggest for what reason, figuring he would know what she meant. He raised his surprised gaze at her and took a sip of his coffee, then set his mug down on the table.

"Of course." He replied, and she lowered her gaze to her plate, feeling that she had lost all appetite, terrified of the humiliation that awaited her and what she had to confess.

She allowed herself to be touched by the priest and took pleasure in it herself.

"Go to Father Lenz, I will also pay him a visit. He is a very good confessor. He's the only one I trust." He said matter-of-factly, throwing her a look that told her that gossip spreads like a disease in Rome and Vatican and she could not confide such a sin to just anyone.

Clearly not everybody respected the seal of confession, she thought with dismay.

"I'll go now." He said getting up abruptly from his seat, taking his player out of his pocket, putting his earphones into his ears and pulling his hood over his head. "I'll meet you in the Vatican."

He said and simply walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving her with a look of disbelief on her face.

She covered her mouth with her hand, clenching her eyelids and swallowed loudly, wondering what she was actually doing.

What had exactly happened between them?

Who was she to him now?

His lover?

She thought with pain that as long as he was by her side everything was well, but now that she was left alone with her thoughts she was crushed by the weight of what had taken place, of who the person who had touched her was.

What they had done.

She felt tears of fear and shame under her eyelids, of bitterness and anger that he wasn't just an ordinary man about whom she could have some hope, that even if not now, in the future their relationship would stop being something bad.

In their case there was no such possibility, what they had done was a contradiction of everything they should represent, what he symbolised as the Head of the Church.

She thought sadly that he was wrong.

That it was not God who had sent her to him, but the Devil, as a temptation that would lead to his downfall.

She drove to the Vatican with a heavy heart, sad, distracted and heartbroken, thinking with shame that she had acted like an animal that couldn't control itself and lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

When she got out of the car in the courtyard Father Lenz was waiting for her as usual. They both moved inside the building, but she stopped him in mid-step, placing her hand on his arm.

"I would like to make a confession." She muttered, the man cast her a calm glance over his shoulder and nodded.

She thought with shame that he already knew everything.

To her surprise, he did not take her to the basilica or any chapel but to the garden; they sat side by side on one of the white stone benches, the sun shining high above them.

She wondered for a moment if she should keep the formula, but decided after a moment that it was just a waste of time.

"I have sinned, Father. I gave in to the weakness of my flesh. I led a clerical person to his and my moral downfall." She muttered, feeling that with every word she spoke her voice quivered more and more, tears of regret and bitterness gathered in the corners of her eyes.

A long silence answered her, during which she only looked at her knees, wiping her wet cheeks with her hands, trying to calm her ragged, broken breathing.

"You are not responsible for anyone's downfall but your own, child, though I think you are using too solemn words. What happened?" He asked, although she knew perfectly well from his posture that the Pope himself had confessed to him exactly the same things she was telling him now.

"He touched me and brought me to fulfilment with my permission." She whispered in shame, swallowing loudly, feeling small, dirty, worthless, breathless at the memory of how wonderful it had been to fall asleep in his embrace and wept quietly.

"What happened next?" He asked calmly and she sighed heavily, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

"We went to sleep, cuddled together. But nothing more happened between us." She mumbled, fiddling with the material of her black dress between her fingers in a nervous gesture, her leg bouncing with stress.

She wondered how she could have done it.

"Hm." He hummed and sighed quietly, bowing his head.

"I'm going to tell you something now, child. I'm going to tell you this as a man, not a priest, and you're going to listen to me. Vatican devours people. It sucks the energy out of them, their strength, their free will. Cardinals manage to believe in God or do a merciful deed, however, they are first and foremost businessmen, officials, monarchs. Do you know why Cardinal Targaryen was elected Pope?

Because they thought he would be easy to manipulate.

Quiet, withdrawn, reading books or concentrating on prayer. He spoke to no one, befriended no one, confided in no one. They thought they had planted someone lost, weak-willed and without an opinion on Peter's throne. Meanwhile, he had fooled them all. He planned it deliberately."

He spoke calmly, looking ahead with blank eyes. She stared at him in disbelief, feeling her heart pounding hard, her throat squeezed so tightly that she breathed with difficulty.

Meanwhile, he had fooled them all.

He had planned it deliberately.

Was it the same with her?

Was it possible that her uncle wasn't the only one treating her as a pawn?

"He never confided in anyone, never spoke to anyone for longer than necessary. He doesn't let anyone sit or eat in his presence, he locks himself in his solitary room and sits there for hours. Except when you visit the Vatican. I exchange a maximum of four sentences with him during the day, while with you he talks for hours." He said looking at her finally, the expression on his face gentle and heartfelt, her lips parted in disbelief, her cheeks hot with emotion.

"He has fallen in love with you. He had already admitted this to me after confession, asking me for advice. And although it creates a temptation to sin I told him to keep you close. I believe that God sent you to him like cold water to a man who has sunk into hell and is burning in it every day. He is completely alone. Despite my deepest efforts, I cannot help him."

He muttered, covering his face with his hand and she watched in disbelief as the grown man sitting next to her burst out crying like a small child. She pressed her fingers to her lips and stifled the sobs that wanted to escape her throat, hot tears one by one running down her cheeks.

He fell in love with you.

"He told me he trusts only you, Father." She whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm her ragged breathing. Father Lenz looked at her and laughed in a way that made her feel at least uncomfortable.

"He knows that I report on him. He knows that one of the cardinals, a fierce opponent of your uncle, is blackmailing me. But I don't always tell him about what I see and hear. Not about everything. Do you understand?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded, looking at him with horror and fear, feeling the cold sweat on her back.

"Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." He said lowly, making the sign of the cross in the air with his hand in front of her.

"Amen." She mumbled, not looking at him but at her feet, quivering all over, tears of disbelief and despair making the world around her seem blurred.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good."

"His mercy endures for ever." She whispered and rose from her seat, moving quickly ahead, covering her mouth with her hand, bursting into hysterical sobs, feeling that she had panicked.

She headed towards his office where he usually worked, the same one her uncle had taken her to when she first saw him. One of the guards, on seeing her, simply opened the door, as if he had been warned that she would come.

She walked slowly inside, and the door closed behind her with a loud clatter of wood.

She looked to her left and saw his figure clad in a white cassock, sprawled comfortably in his chair, reading some documents. He lifted his gaze to her and for a moment just looked at her, as if shocked by her condition, then rose quickly, staring at her with concern.

"Good God, what's happened?" He asked in a trembling voice, his eyebrows raised in fear.

She knew she wasn't allowed to do this, she knew she shouldn't, that if anyone saw them it would be over, but she couldn't help herself.

She wept as she ran to him and pressed her face to his chest, feeling the cold cross hanging from his neck against her cheek, embracing him tightly around his waist, clenching her fingers on his cassock.

"Holy Father." She mumbled like a helpless child who needed someone to lead her by her hand, like a frightened bird that had fallen out of its nest, like a ship that was unable to find its way to port.

"− calm down, child − I'm here − shhh −" He hushed her, sinking his face into the top of her head, stroking her neck and back with his hands with calm, tender movements full of affection, his wonderful scent filling her lungs.

"− it's okay −" He whispered soothingly, combing his fingers through her hair – she felt a wonderful shiver ran down her spine every time he did it and closed her eyes thinking only of how safe she felt.

She murmured quietly, relaxing and calming as she felt his lips on her head, heard him place drawn out, wet kisses on her hair.

"I love the way you smell. I saw your perfume in your bathroom and bought myself one just like it so I can remind myself of you when I fall asleep here alone. After my escape they increased my protection, they don't leave my side." He whispered softly, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought of how deep his feeling, his devotion, his commitment, his desire was.

"I want you to pose for a painting made on my request as Mary Magdalene."

She could not put into words how ambiguous, lewd, intimate his proposal was. He gave her time to think, indicating that he would respect her refusal, but said that he wanted to have her by his side also in the quarters in which he slept, said he would hang the painting opposite his bed.

When she asked him if this sight would distract his thoughts from God he replied that he had never felt the presence of God as strongly as when he thought of her.

Lying in her room in complete darkness, she thought about what Father Lenz had told her.

He has fallen in love with you.

Vatican devours people.

He is completely alone.

She closed her eyes, swallowing loudly, thinking about the question he had asked her that morning regarding what she thought her vocation was, and wondered if in some incomprehensible way God was trying to tell her something.

I believe that God sent you to him like cold water to a man who has sunk into hell and is burning in it every day.

She felt tears under her eyelids at the thought of his sullen, absolute loneliness among people who were so vain and power-hungry, and she wondered where he was going to get the strength to fight against paedophilia, abuse of power, bribes and profligacy when almost everyone around him was content with this state of affairs.

She found herself wondering if her presence could support him in some way, give him courage, a sense that there was someone by his side who didn't care about his position or money, someone who simply loved him, gave him comfort and tenderness in moments of doubt.

She thought with a kind of relief that there was nothing disgusting, nothing disturbing in this thought, that although certain things would remain taboo, the feeling that God had aroused in her heart could not be wrong in nature, because it did not stem from a desire to objectify.

For some reason she felt the desire to sacrifice herself for him, to suffer for him, to die every day for the love of him.

She agreed to his proposal.

He made sure that the painter's arrival at the Vatican was covered by complete secrecy – it was agreed that she would stay until the evening to work and then come to one of the small rooms where they would wait for her.

When she walked in she saw them in half darkness, the Pope dressed in his white cassock with a large cross on his chest was speaking with a middle-aged man about what stood before them, a small platform on which lay an ornate cushion and a cloth on which lay a skull, the only source of light was the tall and low candles standing around on the floor.

When they saw her the Pope grunted and nodded, folding his arms behind him.

"Come closer, child. This is Marco, the painter I mentioned to you." He said softly, though his expression stern, contentment lurked in his eye.

She swallowed loudly and walked towards them, feeling her heart pounding like mad, terrified of what they had come up with, of someone catching them.

"Marco has prepared a robe for you to pose in. Wear just that and let your hair down. We'll wait in the other room." He said calmly and nodded at the man, walking out through a small door, closing it behind them.

She was left alone.

She walked over to a chair on which lay a cream-coloured, simple linen long robe – when she picked it up she found it pleasant to the touch, with pieces of cloth hanging down the sides to tie around her waist.

She stripped naked and, with trembling hands, placed the garment over herself, arranging it like a bathrobe, tying a knot at the waist so that the whole thing would hold together somehow and not reveal anything. She pulled the pins out of her hair and undid her braid, letting her dark curls fall to her shoulders.

"I'm ready." She muttered in a trembling voice and heard the sound of the door opening.

The Pope stepped inside and paused, letting out a loud breath as if this sight surprised him, his lips parted slightly; she felt heat in her lower abdomen when she saw him involuntarily lick them with his tongue.

"Lie down and take this skull in your hands. Yes, just like that." He said, stepping closer to her, placing his warm hands on her shoulders covered by her soft cloth, arranging her as he had apparently seen her in his vision, moving the skull in her hands so that it lay in front of her, next to her body.

"Your body is to lie down, but your face must be tilted towards me. Perfect." Said Marco when she did as he asked, glancing down at his canvas and at her.

She felt strangely cornered and small, tense that all attention was on her.

"No. One more thing." The Pope hummed. A powerful shudder ran through her body, her lips parted in horror as he gently grabbed the fabric that covered her chest and pulled it aside, revealing a part of her breasts and the golden cross between them, her sternum and stomach, just a hint more and her nipples would be visible.

"Gorgeous." He whispered, looking at her with a gaze that was dark, hazy and dreamy, she felt the muscles inside her clench desperately around nothing at his words, her breath stopped in her throat.

She was terrified and aroused.

She was wet.

"Do not be afraid, child. Marco does not feel lust at the sight of a woman's body. You are safe here." He said softly, with a kind of need to soothe her, to give her the feeling that he did not desire to take advantage of her, that this was about something more. She sighed quietly as his hand rose to her cheek, closing her eyes in relief when his thumb ran over her warm skin.

"Beautiful." He murmured and stood up, looking at her with proud satisfaction, as if he had just gazed upon some mystical scene, a revelation as if from the Bible, as if he truly believed her to be sacred.

He stood behind the painter, who had already begun to sketch her silhouette, and pressed his lips together, furrowing his brow.

"You have to properly render the shape of her lips, the warmth of her gaze, the softness of her hair. That's the most important thing to me, I want the most significant point of the painting to be her face." He said dryly, the man nodded wordlessly, apparently writing down his words in his head.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, the loud ticking sound of a tall, large clock standing against the wall all around them.

"No. That's not the look I mean. Get out. Give us a moment." He said, startling them both. Marco grunted and put his pencil down on the easel, nodded and walked out into the other room, closing the door behind him.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked in a trembling voice, raising herself up on her elbows, but he commanded her with a hand gesture not to get up and sat down beside her with a quiet rustling of the fabric of his cassock.

"No, sweet flower. But I can see your terror." He said softly, touching her cheek with his palm again, into which she immediately cuddled her face, desperately needing his touch, his closeness, his wonderful scent filling her lungs and her mind.

"Your tension." He added, his voice changed slightly, deep and sharp; she trembled hearing the way he said the words, involuntarily clenching her thighs.

He noticed it out of the corner of his eye and sighed quietly, as if he had been forced to the last resort, as if fate had left him no choice.

"It's all right now. Come here." He hummed, his hand sliding lower, in a gentle motion full of care and respect digging his fingers into the soft skin of her thigh hidden beneath the material of her robe – her heart began to pound like mad, her hands clenched on the pillow on either side of her head.

"Open." He commanded, and she shook her head quickly, her legs twitching all over in his grasp, feeling the sticky liquid running down her buttocks onto the bedding beneath her. He pressed his lips together, looking at her like a naughty child who refused to comply.

"Open, I say. I see your suffering. The Holy Father only wants to help you, child." He said calmly, as if he was explaining something obvious to her, something that was essential and necessary.

She swallowed loudly and parted her lips as her thighs finally opened, a sigh of contentment came from his nose – she tilted her head back suppressing a moan of surprise when his hand from her hip slid between the material of her robe, right between her legs.

"− it's alright − it's alright − shhhh −" He hushed her hearing her quiver of delight as the tips of his fingers ran over her fleshy womanhood, collecting her moisture, spreading it in circular, steady strokes around her bud, the tickle she felt in her lower abdomen was unbearable.

"− oh God −" She mumbled out, her body quivering before him with pleasure, her breathing quickened as he deliberately began to tease the spot between her folds, it seemed to her that the whole room around her was spinning, her heart pounding like mad, she could feel the tension even in her lips.

"− you shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain − if I do not close these lips will you continue to blaspheme? −" He growled and leaned over her, startling her completely when his full, swollen, hot lips pressed against hers in a sticky, hot kiss. She moaned loudly and threw her arms around his neck, his tongue forced its way deep into her throat with his sigh of delight.

Her body began to tremble and shudder beneath him as his fingertips dug into her hot folds, squeezing them with increasingly confident motions, teasing her slit, sliding in a little only to slide out a moment later and start all over again, his fingers wet with her moisture.

"− I'm wasting so much of your precious nectar − I should lick it all off, shouldn't I? −" He breathed out into her mouth. She clenched her hands tightly in his hair at his words and just came on his fingers with a surprised moan of pleasure, tilting her head back, his lips pressed against her neck, placing greedy, hot, wet kisses on it. She cried out when she felt his middle finger slide into her hot core and stay like that, her walls clenching around it again and again.

He lifted himself up on his hand, looking down at her, sliding his finger out of her in a slow, careful motion with a shameless click of her moisture.

"− Blessed Ludovica Albertoni −" He whispered and lifted his fingers to his face, sliding them deep into his mouth; this sight was so perverted that she looked away, her body breathless at the memory of the sarcophagus on which the saint cruves in wonderful convulsions, her face and parted lips expressing the relief of fulfilment.

"− Bernini −" She whispered in a trembling voice, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that she knew what he was referring to.

"− exactly − you look magnificent −" He murmured and covered her thighs back with the material of her robe, rising slowly, looking with satisfaction at his masterpiece.

"Come in, Marco. She is ready."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[sixosix]

BUT THEY ALL LEAD BACK TO YOU | S. HEIZOU

he said, “it’s a shame, then, that it’s against my ideals to commit a crime.” you couldn’t think too hard about what he said because he distracted you quickly with a kiss, even forgetting your name for a moment.

tags implied…Ahem yk, getting together, heizou is pining BAD but so are u (carnally now too ig), sweet sweet fluff

a/n 2700 words, holy shit this was longer than i planned T__T

previous part

"why does this shikanoin heizou want to meet me that badly? how does he even know me?"

kazuha smiles lightly, content with watching you make a mess of your temporary room like a cyclone. “i’m not so certain. heizou has a habit of prying into the lives of people he hears mentioned. i was reminiscing about the day i met you while catching up with him, and he insisted i introduce him before i could talk about anyone else.”

seriously, who does that?

kazuha had mentioned shikanoin heizou before, as with his other close friends. you were listening but not paying attention enough to have him as your surprise not-in-a-romantic-way-date like a pop quiz. it was as though you didn’t have enough time to prepare for heizou’s inevitable “what time and date did i meet kaedehara kazuha and what’s the name of my distant cousin?” but that’s not the case right now, which means what else could doushin shikanoin want from you? a good first impression and a far-from-suspicious job, obviously.

“there’s nothing about me—my hair’s a mess, why didn’t you tell me?— that could possibly warrant a tenryou commission detective’s interest in that way.”

you pick an unruly strand of hair off, then belatedly realize that walking outside would lead to more of them, and there is no point in doing so. you’re deeply stressed.

“clearly he disagrees,” your friend says in return, amused. you do not share his delight, back to pacing across and around your room.

“kazuha,” you groan, “he’s your friend, isn’t he? can’t you just ask what he wants from me? get this over with.” you abhor first introductions. can’t kazuha just tell you if you should ship your ass back to liyue right this instant?

“are you truly this nervous?”

“he’s a detective, kazuha. and no one can know what i do for a living—yelan will kick me out!”

“you don’t have to worry too much. he bears no ill intentions towards you. if he did,” kazuha pauses to meet your eyes intently, turning serious, “i wouldn’t have offered to introduce you to him in the first place.”

you throw your hands in the air, exasperated.

that answers absolutely nothing and only brings more questions. what does he want from you if not your occupation? surely a detective with a renowned reputation such as himself taking an interest in you means that he wants you to spill truths you’ve sworn to lie about.

maybe it’s not too late to ask if beidou wants a trip back home at this very moment.

“y/n,” kazuha says, with a hint of a fond smile, “let fate take the lead for today. you’ll find that it’s nothing like you’re agonizing over.”

your first memory of inazuma city is when kazuha was hauled away by a few people and left you stranded in the crowd, the same one who had seen you tailing kazuha like a lost puppy—the same one who treated your friend as something sort of a celebrity because of his famous block.

in the few days you’ve been wandering around here, you’ve learned that people everywhere, no matter the region, are always too curious. and somehow prepared to bargain for information.

you’re breezing through everyone in hopes they can sense you don’t want to talk with any of them at the moment. the last time you were lenient, new rumors sprung in the air the first few hours you arrived at inazuma, saying that you’re their ticket to meeting kaedahara kazuha himself.

you’d been deeply affronted. you’re not a scammer; even you’re incapable of tying kazuha to one place, much less holding a meet-and-greet for his fans.

“sorry, sorry, hey—wait up! you!” someone calls out from behind, sounding oddly familiar.

irritation spikes.

“i don’t know who kaedehara kazuha is, sorry,” you say, speeding past stalls and apologizing in advance for people who swerve out of your way.

but this person is determined, somehow swift enough to seize your wrist. there was a second where you forgot where you were for a moment and jerked your arm back in favor of a very, very violent self-defense— even so, this person’s grip was surprisingly strong.

he smiles when you meet his eyes. “i was looking for you, actually.”

there is no mistaking it. his face had been hard to tell in dim lighting, but even then, you could make out the soft features and the distinct twin moles illuminated by blue.

you couldn’t confuse him for someone else even if you tried. the moment you stared a little too long when he was being dragged away, you set it upon yourself for today—as if he was never unfamiliar.

“i know you,” you say, “you’re the drunk guy.”

and then it hits you harder than yelan’s kick on a good day.

this is the same guy kazuha said is a tenryou commission detective—their best one, people say, renowned for his commendable skills and intuition. you were expecting someone older, taller, who fit that description, and definitely, someone who didn’t look like…this.

“yes, that’s me,” he grins brightly. “hi.”

seeing him up close on a bright, sunny day was not the best idea. only here can you see the startlingly compelling shade of green on his eyes and the softness of his burgundy hair. only here can you realize that this man is exactly your type.

“hello,” you say pleasantly and hope you aren’t gaping.

shikanoin heizou looks around, taking in the number of people passing by. he looks back at you, and leans in close to whisper, “let’s go somewhere else.”

you follow him into a food stall, with only one person on the far edge eating. you take a seat on the two chairs laid out on the far right with him. this is starting to feel less like an interrogation and more like something you’re not willing to get into at the moment.

heizou leans against the wooden counter, announcing his order. he suggests food for you upon seeing the conflict on your face.

“you’re from liyue, right? you live in liyue?” is the first thing heizou asks, his arm still resting on the counter with his chin on his palm.

he looks enticing in the gold glow of the lanterns on both sides of the stall. you let your eyes stray, pretending you’re entranced by the ramen and not his arms. “i’m not here on any official business. i’m just here because kazuha begged me to accompany him to inazuma.”

“from what i heard, you jumped at the boat the moment kazuha offered inazuma for you.”

your brow twitches, caught. “details, details.”

the distinct scents of different foods sold in other stalls along with this fills your senses. your stomach rumbles, a gentle reminder. an embarrassing one, at that.

heizou smiles, and it’s almost sweet if you weren’t so suspicious. “my treat.”

“...shikanoin-san,” you begin, “is there a reason why you were so adamant about meeting me?”

his gaze drifts then, ears darkening. “do you remember that night we met? i dragged myself to work the next day, head pounding, my desk a mess from stumbling around it the night before. my mind was elsewhere. my peers ushered me when they caught me snea—ahem, doing patrols.”

“did they belittle you once again or something?”

“i’m pleased you still remember that.” your face burns, intently staring at the ramen the stall owner is preparing. “they told me all about how i was blabbing their ears off about someone. someone i insisted must be a youkai with how uncharacteristically enamored i was. they told me i kept asking to get myself drunk again to trace myself back to you—and i almost considered it sober.”

“that’s stupid,” you say, pretending you aren’t flustered by this.

“isn’t it?” he doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “but then i saw kazuha. we caught up, and he told me about this friend who is a stranger in inazuma; my intuition honed in on your name the moment he mentioned it.”

“and what do you know—” heizou glances at you, “—my intuition still hasn’t failed me.”

this could’ve been the moment you realized that shikanoin heizou is a dangerous, dangerous man, but really, it was on that night when he had been an ungraceful mess, letting you pin him against the tree with a gleam in his eye.

finally, food is served, and you don’t have to answer that. you can only hope that heizou won’t hone in your face the same way, and you can excuse the steam of the ramen as the culprit of its heat.

“so,” heizou begins, and you dread how it’s going, “you come here often?”

you hide a laugh. “you shouldn’t be so curious about me, for your own sake.”

“why? are you hiding something?”

he is no threat at all, you realize. you’re almost desperate, because whatever is happening right now is far from your expertise. with a glimpse of honesty: “i have no obligation to give you information about myself or my field of work. if i spill anything, the commission will never hear from you again.”

“is that so?” he looks excited.

shikanoin heizou is strange. so why are you fighting off a smile?

is it also so strange you realize his body is completely facing you? he speaks again, “well, i heard from kaedehara about a case here in inazuma that i would’ve been thrilled solving, and you were the one to bring it to a close before anyone else caught wind of it. before i caught wind of it.”

you remember that. it was practically nothing. the bandits were just unfortunate enough to do their crimes in front of your face, trained and armed for these very moments.

but where is he going with this? “i have committed no crimes myself, detective.”

“that’s not what i said,” heizou grins, resting his chin on the center of his palm. “i just want to say i appreciate you for helping in your own way. even if that meant we had to deal with interrogating dazed, thoroughly beaten-up nobushi. i want you to tell me about what went down in excruciating detail some other time.”

“you’re welcome. are you going to arrest me for interfering?”

he hums. “why do you want me to arrest you so much? want my handcuffs on you that badly?”

you’re glad you’ve already swallowed the noodles before he opened his mouth. “that’s not what i mean and you know it.”

heizou giggles, the bastard. “cute,” he murmurs as he sips on his drink, smiling to himself.

are you the one with alcohol in your system this time? because the tension is suffocating and you want him bad. “you’re too forward, shikanoin-san.”

“heizou,” he corrects. “and what’s the point in beating around the bush? we both know what i want at the end of the day. you think i meet you again and i’ll let you slip from my fingers again?”

it’s hard not to want the same. it’s itching under your fingertips, begging to be closer, to feel his laugh against your skin. “let’s pray kazuha doesn’t find out.”

“what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” or makes things extremely awkward for him.

that night is also the same night you last see shikanoin heizou for a while. you told him about how you were leaving the next day, and getting attached would be a bad idea.

he had been hovering over you when he said, “it’s a shame, then, that it’s against my ideals to commit a crime.” you couldn’t think too hard about what he said because he distracted you quickly with a kiss, even forgetting your name for a moment.

with inazuma added to your to-do list for next year (ASAP!!! written beside it), you and the crux sail back to liyue. you were already starting to miss it, but homesickness washed over soon enough at the sight of the familiar wharf. people wave at you, saying they missed you, asking if you enjoyed your vacation.

“hey, you.”

you don’t have to look to know who it is. “yelan.” you crane your neck. “i haven’t seen you since i got back.”

“there wasn’t much you missed out on; i was dead to the world,” yelan says with a cunning smile, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “how was your trip? had fun? bring home anything good?”

you smile to yourself, “i had fun.”

“oh,” yelan smirks. “i see. what did they call it? summer fling.”

“no, nothing like that.”

she flicks your forehead. “you’re still a lousy liar as ever.”

the days pass, and it’s almost easy to forget you even went to inazuma. everything falls back into place, as routine dictated—if it weren’t for the way you keep thinking about bare sides, olive eyes, and unending playful banter.

although you weren’t slacking off, it was easy to tell that your mind was far away when you walked past couples whispering to themselves, tucked into some dark corner.

“hey, y/n! kazuha is calling for you in the wharf.”

“coming! hold on!”

the crux fleet’s grand ship looms over other boats. curiously, you note that the crew has only begun to disembark. beidou waves at you when she spots you, and you wave back with a wide smile.

she gestures at the side. you follow her gaze.

if you didn’t know who he was, you’d think—with the way he walks around and smiles at curious onlookers as if he knows them personally—that he belongs here. but you do, you do know him, madly so. he’s been in your mind for far too much that you convinced yourself he’s just a fragment of your imagination until he catches sight of you and brightens.

“y/n!” he says, enthusiastically making his way towards you.

“heizou…?” you let him tackle you into a hug, too stunned to do anything else. “wait, heizou!?” you pull away, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “what are you doing here… in—in liyue? who…”

heizou sighs, looking away despite all the confidence he’s bragged about. his face is very, very red. “it’s a long story.”

kazuha appears behind him, startling the both of you bad enough to have you freezing in sync. “he jumped at the boat the moment i offered. it was starting to get disheartening seeing the longing looks.”

he definitely knows something between you two went down.

“thanks again, kazuha, i owe you one!”

“two, heizou.”

“two,” heizou amends. “you’re the best.”

kazuha quirks a brow, amused. “flattery won’t make me lessen it, doushin shikanoin.”

“dammit,” heizou curses, smiling when you laugh.

“i’ll leave you two to it,” kazuha says, and despite all this, he looks genuinely happy. maybe because he’s rubbing on your face that he’s right—this was far from what you were agonizing over.

“ah, so you work for…the ministry of civil affairs.” heizou definitely doesn’t believe this, and he doesn’t even bother trying to hide it on his face. “the youngest, too, i heard on the way here. very good with a sword.”

“don’t underestimate me,” you instinctively say. deep inside, you’re pleased with the way your friends are giving him a good impression of you. “i do more than issue bounties on wanted criminals.”

“i knew that. though most of them don’t need to carry around a weapon as sharp as that.” you try not to react too strongly, but based on the way heizou smiles, you know that he can see straight through you. damn intuition or whatever. “and you don’t have to explain to me, i’m not underestimating you. i’m the youngest in the commission, too, you see?”

“oh…” you do remember him repeatedly mentioning how extraordinary and young he is.

“look at that,” he coos, his arms snaking around your waist, “we have so much in common already. what are you gonna do about it? shikanoin heizou, in the flesh, all for you.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “is that all you think about?”

“you’re all i think about.”

you learn that it’s difficult to keep heizou’s hands away from you.

( “do you like him?”

“huh? who? shikanoin heizou? he’s annoying. the flowers in chinju forest are taller than him.”

kazuha looks thoughtful. “are they?”

“yes. they were taller than me, too, but that’s not the point.”

“and so was the answer to my question,” kazuha says, “you didn’t outright say no.”

your face burns, caught.

kazuha grins. “i’m glad to have someone accompany my every visit to inazuma from now on.” )

a/n thank u for reading!!!!! i feel like i didn't do heizou enough justice </3 but i wasn't expecting the first part to get attention at all so thank u to the people who commented and reblogged <333

[agentrouka-blog]

Hello Rouka ! what do you think of House Tully and what do you speculate is Grrm's plan for them ?

Hi there!

We've watched them crash and burn much the same way as we've seen it happen to House Stark, which is so closely connected to them. "Family Duty Honor" has been exposed as a bit of a farce, when you consider the hidden and open quarrels, the trauma and hypocrisies that divided this family over the years. Just like "Winter is Coming" rings a little hollow from the lips of Eddard Stark cutting off the head of a Night's Watch ranger warning of the Others.

But just like the Starks, there is enough substance and decency blooming in unlikely places. Edmure is introduced with a deliberately unimpressive touch, but it's to him that GRRM gave one of the most underrated lines in the books:

Catelyn jerked her reins hard to avoid him, glancing about in dismay. Hundreds of smallfolk had been admitted to the castle, and allowed to erect crude shelters against the walls. Their children were everywhere underfoot, and the yard teemed with their cows, sheep, and chickens. "Who are all these folk?" "My people," Edmure answered. "They were afraid." Only my sweet brother would crowd all these useless mouths into a castle that might soon be under siege. Catelyn knew that Edmure had a soft heart; sometimes she thought his head was even softer. She loved him for it, yet still . . . (ACOK, Catelyn V)

GRRM tempts us into siding with Catelyn's cold pragmatism and disapproval. But in this same book we have seen what the war does to the smallfolk through the eyes of Arya. What is the purpose of a lord such as Edmure if not this protection, then? This is the Tully that ultimately gets it. (Incidentally, why I think that the Blackfish who throws them all out to starve, will not survive the series.)

So, I think after seeing them brought low, it is through precisely Edmure - the unlikely survivor - that House Tully will endure and rise again. Much like House Stark symbolically failed under warrior king Robb but will rise again under the leadership of those who have had to learn how to navigate without power, and to abhor the price of warfare. I am also fairly optimistic for him and Roslin making it through everything.

On a plot level, I think this rise will start in TWOW, when the Lannister and Frey fortunes keep unraveling and the possibility arises for Edmure to be freed and regain his ancestral seat. I think he'll have his hands full trying to see his people through winter and will probably form another connecting point between the Southern plotline (Aegon, Tyrells, Lannisters, eventually Dany) and the Northern plotline. Here's an interesting speculative post.

I also think he'll be one of the few Southern survivors standing to be part of the decision-making for a post-war Westeros, i.e. a Great Council, and possibly play a role in Bran's elevation to kingship as his closest Southern relative and a Riverlander no less, with an ancestral claim to Harrenhal, which is likely to be the seat of the future government.

[evanesdust]

and you are the only one, my everything

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Alternating, Alternate Universe - College/University, Mutual Pining, Minor Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s), First Kiss, Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Jock Derek Hale, Possessive Behavior, Jealous Derek Hale, what happens at midnight

summary:

Stiles is gay and in love with his best friend, Derek. Derek is straight. He thought Stiles was, too, but then he walks in on Stiles with a guy and—holy shit!—maybe he's not so straight after all.

October

Stiles gasps. It's like a bucket of ice water is dumped over his head, and his whole body freezes as he stares at Derek over Zac's shoulder.

Oh shit.

Of all the times he thought about how he would come out to Derek, having Derek walk in on him getting fucked in the bathroom at a Halloween party definitely wasn't one of them.

When Zac moans, Derek's eyes flash crimson, and his expression hardens.

Stiles's surroundings come into focus without the fog of lust clouding his brain. The sink faucet digs into his back, and he pushes Zac away, his fingers tingling and palms growing warm as he uses his Spark for a little extra boost. He feels bad when Zac stumbles, almost falling to his ass since his pants are around his ankles.

"What the fuck!" Zac exclaims, his blue eyes turning beta gold for the briefest moment. But then Zac must catch Derek's reflection in the mirror because his eyes go wide, and he bares his neck in submission.

Derek finally moves. He turns suddenly and is gone in a flash, like the Road Runner from Looney Tunes—complete with a dust cloud in his wake. Stiles swears there are burn marks on the carpet.

"Fuck. Shit." Stiles scrambles to pull his jeans up, almost tripping in his haste to follow. "Derek, wait!"

Zac yells after him, but Stiles will have to apologize later. He has to find Derek and explain. He has to make sure this doesn't change things between them because Derek's been his best friend for almost his entire life.

They met in elementary school. Stiles was five when the Hale family moved in next door. Their parents thought Stiles and Cora Hale would be instant friends since they were the same age, but it was her eight-year-old brother that Stiles was drawn to.

Stiles took to Derek immediately, following him everywhere like a lost puppy. Which was hilarious, considering Derek enjoyed running around outside, and Stiles abhorred the sun and sweat in general. But before long, they were inseparable. Pretty soon, they were having weekly sleepovers and walking to and from school together. The rest kind of fell into place.

Derek helping him with homework.

Tormenting Laura and Cora.

Traipsing through the preserve and sharing anything and everything they could think of.

They were best friends.

"Are," Stiles mutters, curling in on himself as he pushes through the party. Whether it’s the expression on his face or his Spark casting a protective aura around him, everyone seems to give him a wide berth.

His name is called out a couple of times, and at first, he worries it’s Zac chasing after him, but he doesn’t stop to check. Not when he can’t get the look on Derek’s face out of his head.

There was definitely shock, but it was mixed with something else.

Was it disgust?

The frigid October air slaps him in the face as he barrels through the front door, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks briskly through the crowded streets. Laughter and music spill from every frat house he passes as he heads downtown toward their apartment. People hang off each other, singing off-key to whatever music they hear. Some are in costumes, while others are fully shifted into foxes, wolves, and other supernatural creatures.

Stiles is pretty sure there was a wererabbit at the party.

Sigh. The party.

Stiles had been having fun earlier. He didn't have a care in the world as he drank and danced. That's the only reason he let Zac drag him out of the living room into the bathroom. It was stupid, though. Not only because, of course, Derek would go looking for him but because Zac was Derek's teammate. Stiles hopes this doesn't make things awkward during football practice or games.

“Incoming!” someone yells, and Stiles barely has a chance to throw his hands up to catch the person stumbling into him. Even without a supernatural sniffer, the scent of booze permeates his senses.

The person gives him a lopsided grin and slurred, “Thanks, man!” before wobbling back to his group of friends. He turns back to Stiles and points. “That guy is awesome!”

Stiles would laugh, but how can anyone be happy when his heart feels as if it's about to explode?

Their apartment is only a ten-minute walk from the frat house, it's the longest ten minutes of Stiles's life as he glares at everyone having fun. This is worse than when he came out to his dad this past summer. Then again, he only came out because his dad caught him coming out of Jungle, the local gay club.

Stiles could have written it off and placed all the blame on Jackson. It wasn't far from the truth. They'd only been there because Jackson dragged him along to spy on Danny, but he couldn't throw his friend under the bus. So he clasped his hands together and said, 'Well, dad, there's a conversation that we—'

But his dad cut him off, stating, 'You're not gay,' with such finality that the contents of Stiles's stomach threatened to spill.

What if Derek has the same reaction?

No.

No, Stiles isn't ready for Derek to know yet. He wants more time—needs more time—especially after his dad's initial reaction.

Stiles and Derek have always been closer than most, never hesitating to cuddle or share a bed. But what if this changes things? What if Derek pushes him away?

What if Derek hates him?

Stiles isn't sure he can handle that.

Not when Derek's his whole world. His safe space and happy place. Derek's been for Stiles, standing by him—with him—through all the good times and comforting him through the bad.

He was there when Stiles won the science fair three years in a row.

When Stiles got his driver's license.

When Stiles finally made the lacrosse team.

When Stiles's mom died.

When Stiles's dad damn near drank himself to death.

Derek was the one who helped Stiles build the Collector's Series Millenium Falcon Lego set his dad paid an obscene amount of money for.

The one who read both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to Stiles when he was younger.

The one who watched every single Star Wars film with him, tossing popcorn back like there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

It's no wonder Stiles is in love with him.

Stiles lets out a humorless laugh, the little puff of breath warming his face. His feelings for Derek aren't something he consciously thinks about, considering nothing will ever come of it.

"Tale as old as time." The classic story of a gay guy falling for his straight best friend.

By the time Stiles gets to his building, he's sure he's either going to throw up or shit himself. Maybe both at the same time because why not? It'd be the perfect way to cap off the night.

As he rides the elevator to his floor, it's tempting to mask his scent, knowing he smells like Zac and sex—and probably anxiety, sadness, and longing. But the few times he's done it, Derek's gotten all rawr, and 'Don't do that!' as if it's a personal affront not to be able to smell his mood.

Besides, since Stiles figured out all the fun he could have with his dick, he's been told on more than one occasion that he smells perpetually horny.

Plus, Derek already saw him with Zac, so it's a moot point.

The elevator dings, its doors whooshing open as if they're delivering him to his doom.

Wow, dramatic much? Stiles rolls his eyes, annoyed with himself. But his fingers shake as he tries to insert his key into the lock once, twice, three times before it finally slips in. He pushes the door open, hating how his heart lodges in his throat and the way his stomach plummets as if he were on a roller coaster.

With the exception of the soft snick of the door closing behind him, everything's quiet when Stiles enters. He takes a second to compose himself, hanging his keys on the hook and flicking his wrist to lock the door.

At first, Stiles doesn't see Derek anywhere. The lights in the living room are on, but the rest of the apartment is dark. There's no sound down the hall from their rooms, and Derek's door is wide open with the light off. Part of him is relieved; the part that says ignoring his problems until they go away is the best idea in the history of ideas. But mostly, he panics.

Did Derek even come home? And if he didn't, why? Where did he go?

Most importantly, would he come back?

But then he sees movement in the kitchen—a shadow, shifting in the dark. Stiles would recognize that shadow anywhere from all the nights Derek would climb through his bedroom window.

"Hey," Stiles says, turning on the lights with a wave of his hand.

Derek leans against the counter with his ankles crossed, staring at the ground, all casual-like, as if he doesn't have a care in the world. But Stiles can see the tension in his shoulders. Can see the tiny twitches of his fingers that hang loosely at his sides.

And then Derek lifts his head, meeting Stiles's gaze.

Stiles can't read the expression on his face, which is disconcerting. He's always been able to tell what Derek's thinking with just one glance or quirk of an eyebrow.

It's unnerving, unsettling, and every other word for troubling that Derek's so quiet. It might be expected if there was anyone other than Stiles present, but with him, Derek's actually very talkative. You just have to earn his words.

Did Stiles lose that?

He steps closer, the floor creaking under his feet. Derek tracks his steps, but the silence is deafening. His expression changes, though. Derek watches him as if Stiles were a scared animal just waiting for an opportunity to bolt. It doesn't make any sense because, between them, Stiles is ready for Derek to run.

It makes Stiles antsy, so he starts fidgeting—first, picking at his nails, then shifting his weight from foot to foot while scratching his jaw in a nervous tic. When he starts pacing, Derek grabs him, gently pulling him to a stop. They stare at each other for a moment before Stiles glances away, tugging at the strings of his hoodie.

Derek covers his hands, then guides him to the living room and sits on the couch, manhandling Stiles to his lap.

"You have personal space issues," Stiles says, finally breaking the silence. When Derek still doesn't say anything, he lets out a nervous laugh. Sitting on Derek's lap is too awkward, so he tries to get up but accidentally elbows Derek in the stomach.

Derek grunts. "For Christ's sake, it's like holding a hostile little puppet."

"Oh my God, you're only like an inch taller than me." Stiles can't help but roll his eyes. Part of him still wants to get up. He's scared of Derek pushing him away, except Derek's not. So instead, he maneuvers himself to laying between Derek's legs on the couch—his back to Derek's chest. It's not the first time they've laid this way. He just hopes it won't be the last. "Is this better, you behemoth?"

Derek huffs a laugh and rubs his cheek against the side of Stiles's head. "It's always better with you here."

Stiles's heart trips over itself. That's a good thing, right? It has to be. Except, Derek's words are followed by more silence, and Stiles can't take it anymore. Usually, he's the first person to ignore his problems until they go away. But this is Derek. So, in a small voice that comes out shakier than he'd like, he asks, "Are…are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be okay?" Derek's voice is a little strangled.

Stiles shrugs, trying for nonchalance, but really it feels like there's a fist clenched around his heart. He knows the devastating loss of a loved one, but he's not sure he'd survive losing Derek.

Still, he swallows down the lump in his throat. "Because of what you saw."

It's a few tense seconds before Derek answers. "Is that why you didn't tell me? Because you thought I'd…I don't know, stop being friends with you or something?"

Stiles shrugs again, his heart damn near beating out of his chest. "I mean, it happens, right? Friendships end, parents disown their children…"

Derek's arms tighten around him. "Did something happen with your dad?"

"No. Not really. I mean, he caught me out at Jungle this summer and made a stupid comment, but then we talked later."

His dad gave him a patented Stilinski hug, apologizing for his initial reaction, and told him that he loved him. He, like everyone else, assumed Stiles was straight. Which was fair considering Stiles's legendary crush on Lydia Martin.

'Does Derek know?' his dad asked when Stiles finally pulled away.

Stiles's silence was enough for his dad to scrub a hand down his face. Somehow, Stiles knew his dad was wondering how he never saw it before. 'You love him, don't you?'

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air. 'Kiddo…you should tell him.'

'But what if—'

Before Stiles could finish his thought, his dad pulled him into another hug. 'Your friendship with Derek is special. He might not feel the same, but he'll always be your friend.'

Yeah. Friend.

Derek trails his fingers over Stiles's arm with a feather-like touch, drawing his attention. "You're my best friend, Stiles. You know me. I'm always going to be here for you. I love you. It doesn't matter who you love, as long as you're happy. Well, unless they're a dick. You're the best person I've ever known, so they have to deserve you."

Stiles closes his eyes to stave off the impending tears.

Derek still loves him and isn't horrified by him. Stiles should've trusted him. He should have known that Derek wouldn't push him away. Not Derek, who's always had his back.

Who growled at Jackson for stealing Stiles's crayons, even though Stiles broke Jackson's first.

Who tackled Theo for making fun of Stiles wearing Derek's football jersey at school.

Who never cared about the looks they got whenever they held hands or cuddled, or when Stiles would plaster himself to Derek's back like a koala.

Fuck, the past few years probably would've been a hell of a lot less stressful if he'd just told Derek.

"I love you too," Stiles says quietly. Though, he can't help but wonder how Derek would feel if he knew Stiles was in love with him.

"I hate that you've struggled alone with this. You could have confided in me. I would've told you that there was nothing wrong with being gay or bi or pan or—"

"Gay," Stiles interrupts. "I-I'm gay."

Derek presses a kiss to the side of his head before nosing the side of his neck. Derek's always loved his scent, saying it helped calm him. "I will always love and support you, Stiles. No matter what."

Stiles nods as he finally relaxes into Derek's arms, his traitorous heart skipping a beat. Emotions are so confusing sometimes with how he can feel two opposite things at the same time. How he can understand something but still be broken by it.

Derek loves him, but he's also straight, so Stiles knows that Derek will never be in love with him.

November

The late November air is crisp, fall finally making itself known, but sweat trickles down Derek's temples as he runs down the field. Even as he tracks the ball flying toward him, dodging Jackson and Boyd as they try to tackle him, all he can think about is telling Stiles his good news.

The whistle blows, and Derek realizes he missed the catch.

"Hale! Get your ass in here!" Coach Finstock yells.

Derek hangs his head low as he jogs to the sidelines, chastising himself for not paying attention. "Sorry, coach."

Finstock blows his whistle again as soon as Derek's close. "Don't 'sorry, coach' me, Hale."

Derek's pretty sure Finstock would yank him closer by the ear if he wasn't wearing a helmet. "Yes, sir."

"You know...part of me wants to ask," Finstock says, crossing his arms. "The other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine."

His eyes flit over to the bleachers, and Derek clenches his jaw, knowing exactly what he’s looking at. Or rather, who he’s looking at, to be more accurate.

"Coach, I—" Derek begins, but Finstock interrupts.

"There are three rules that I live by: never get less than twelve hours sleep; never play cards with a guy who has the same first name as a city; and never get involved with a woman with a tattoo of a dagger on her body. Now you stick to that, and everything else is cream cheese."

"Uh...yes, sir? That seems like very good advice." Derek tries not to think about it too hard. Honestly, Finstock never really makes sense.

"Eh, what am I saying? It doesn't matter how you play the game, it's whether you win or lose. And even that doesn't make all that much difference." Finstock blows the whistle again, making Derek cringe. "Now get outta here, Hale."

In lieu of heading to the locker room, Derek runs up the bleachers to where Stiles sits. Where Stiles always sits when Derek has practice. It makes him insanely happy to have Stiles here, even if Stiles usually has his head in a book, either studying or doing homework.

Once he's in front of Stiles, Derek takes off his helmet and shakes his sweaty head over Stiles, making him curse.

"Is there something I can help you with?" Stiles asks, his eyes narrowed in a death glare.

God, he's so adorable sometimes. All the time, really.

Derek should probably be scared, considering the things Stiles can do thanks to his Spark, but Stiles would never hurt him. At least not intentionally. There was that one time when Stiles accidentally hurled a lamp at his head, but in his defense, Derek had startled him.

"Yeah," Derek says, beaming down at him. He sets his helmet down and plucks the book from Stiles's hands. As he skims the back cover, he says, "I got some good news and wanted to share with someone special…but you'll do."

Stiles flips him off, standing up to swipe the book back.

Derek holds it over his head, reading the title: Bite me! (You know I like it) by Fae Quin. "Huh. Sounds kinky."

"Give it back," Stiles demands, his pretty pink lips drawn in a tight line.

Derek grins, leaning down and whispering in Stiles's ear. "Ask me nicely."

He doesn't miss the full-body shudder or the way Stiles's scent turns spicy. But he ignores it because he was taught that it's impolite to point these things out. Just because he's a werewolf doesn't give him the right to use his enhanced abilities to essentially invade someone's privacy.

Plus, it's Stiles. He almost always smells aroused.

So, being the good friend he is, Derek hands the book back.

"You're such a dick. Why am I friends with you again?" Stiles asks, setting the book down on the bleachers.

Derek snorts. "You're the one who ran up to me and declared us best friends."

"I was five." Stiles rolls his eyes, but the corner of his lip quirks like he's fighting a smile. "I didn't know any better."

"You wound me," Derek deadpans.

Finally, Stiles smiles and, God, it's the most beautiful thing. It lights up his entire face and makes his eyes sparkle. "Alright, alright. Now, what's this good news you were talking about?"

"I talked to Professor Deucalion. I got an A on my exam!"

Derek nearly stumbles back when Stiles leaps into his arms, but he manages to catch him with one arm.

"That's fucking amazing! I knew you could do it!"

The air around them warms as Stiles's Spark radiates his happiness. It's almost like spring with the sun shining down on them, making everything a little brighter. He spins Stiles around in a circle, probably looking ridiculous with Stiles doing a little cheer, but then someone calls out, "Get a room!" and just like that, Derek's good mood disappears.

He hadn’t even realized Coach called an end to practice.

Derek puts Stiles down and clears his throat, taking a step back. It's not the first time the guys have given him shit about Stiles. They affectionately call Stiles his boyfriend, which Derek never bothers to correct because who gives a shit? But the past few weeks have been awkward as fuck.

His mind is a jumbled mess, filled with confusion because he's never even looked at a guy before, but now his mind is all Stiles Stiles Stiles.

Stiles blushes, and usually, it's something Derek loves, but now all it does is remind him of seeing Stiles all flushed, mouth dropped open in apparent ecstasy as Zac pounded into him. Fucking Zac. Derek grimaces because he's never had a problem with the guy before, but now all he wants to do is punch something whenever he sees him.

It's a good thing they're on the same line; otherwise, Derek's not sure he could stop himself from tackling Zac just a little too hard during practice.

Stiles sighs, then reaches down for his bag, shoving his things inside.

Derek frowns. "Where are you going?" He's still got to shower, so Stiles has a few minutes before they need to go.

"I, uh, I forgot I have a tutoring session to get to."

Even without using his supernatural hearing, Derek knows that's a lie. "But I thought we'd head home. I've had a pork roast slow cooking all day. It should be done by the time we get there."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Just save me a plate or something."

"Seriously?" Derek crosses his arms, frowning down at Stiles. They always have dinner together. "But I want to know more about your book. It looks interesting."

Stiles raises a brow, the book clutched close to his chest as he adjusts his bag over his shoulder. "It's about a guy who finds out about supernatural creatures and falls in love with this guy who turns out to be a vampire."

"Tell me more." Derek's proud of the way Stiles has been more open lately. It's like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, though Derek hates that he never noticed it before. Still, sometimes it feels like Stiles is still hiding something. He can't really begrudge him of that, considering he's been hiding some things as well. Like the fact that he can't seem to stop replaying the night he walked in on Stiles with Zac. Except, instead of Zac pounding into Stiles, it's Derek pounding into him.

"You want me to tell you about the gay vampire romance I'm reading?"

Derek crosses his arms over his chest, one brow raised at the disbelief in Stiles's voice. "Yup. Laura made me read Twilight so why not?"

Stiles stares at him for what feels like forever before hitching his bag higher on his shoulder and glancing away. "Maybe later."

As much as Derek doesn't want to, he lets Stiles pass without calling him out.

It's late. Derek and Stiles spent the day in Beacon Hills for Thanksgiving, but now Derek's ready to go home. He's incredibly horny and needs the privacy of his room to rub one out.

Somehow, Stiles made something as innocent as drinking from a bottle look downright pornographic. Inappropriate thoughts about Stiles's lips wrapped around his cock led to some uncomfortable stares in Derek's direction.

While he's grateful they're at least out of his parent's house, they're still not heading home because Stiles wants to stay the night at his dad's—going so far as to tell Derek he could go ahead and drive home after dropping him off.

"Well, when are you planning on coming home?" Derek has practice on Saturday, so he needs to be back in time for that.

"Tomorrow."

Derek sighs. It's only a three-hour trip, so it really wouldn't be that bad to come back and pick Stiles up tomorrow. Of course, he could also just stay the night with Stiles.

"Then I'll stay too."

"What? No, why?"

Derek turns his head, raising a brow at Stiles. "Well, how else are you getting home?"

"I'll just catch a ride with Jackson. He's going back tomorrow too."

Fuck. That.

As soon as he pulls up in front of the Sheriff's house, Stiles is out of the Camaro, calling out a goodbye before Derek even shuts it off.

When the engine cuts out and Derek opens his door, Stiles glances back at him. "Uh...what are you doing?"

"I told you I was staying too." The duh is implied. Derek rounds the hood but then stops when he realizes— "Unless you don't want me to."

What if that's it? What if Stiles really doesn't want him to stay?

Derek's fine with that. Of course, he is. They're close, maybe a little codependent, but if Stiles wants space, then Derek will give it to him.

"Shit." Derek rubs a hand down his face and turns to get back in the car. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assu—"

"Stay."

Just that one word makes him sigh in relief.

"Are you sure?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and stomps over, taking Derek's hand and dragging him inside. "Don't be stupid. I always want you here."

Derek grins as he follows.

When they get to Stiles's room, Stiles lets go of his hand and Derek immediately misses the warmth.

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower," Stiles says, grabbing some clothes before stalking off to the bathroom.

The shower starts and Derek kicks off his shoes, takes off his jacket, and undresses down to his boxer briefs before lying back in Stiles's bed. It's only a twin size, so it's a bit small for two full-grown adults, but they'll make do. It wouldn't be the first time they've cuddled in bed.

He tucks one arm behind his head while the other rests on his stomach, staring at the faded stars on Stiles's ceiling. The memory of them sticking the glow-in-the-dark stars up there makes him smile. Stiles was ten and Derek had just celebrated his thirteenth birthday. Because of their age difference and Derek's werewolf genetics, he was significantly taller than Stiles. So instead of using a ladder, Derek hoisted Stiles to his shoulders. He held Stiles's legs as Stiles painstakingly placed each star exactly where he wanted.

A muffled groan from the bathroom draws his attention, and Derek sits up, ready to charge through the door in case Stiles is hurt or something. But then that groan turns into a familiar whimper, and Derek's cock jumps in his boxer briefs. He knows that sound after living together for months.

Stiles is jerking off.

It's never affected him before, not really. But now all he can see is Stiles's head thrown back, his face flushed, and eyes glazed over with lust.

The porn Derek watches doesn't even get him worked up like this. And it's not even listening to Stiles's soft, strangled groans or the sound of skin-on-skin as he strokes himself that does it. It's the fact that it's Stiles.

And yes, Derek's been watching a lot of porn lately, trying to figure out if his confusion is about guys in general or just Stiles.

He felt ridiculous at first. Porn never really did anything for him before, and gay porn was the same. That is until a guy popped up on the screen that kind of looked like Stiles with his messy hair and mole-speckled skin. Then it was an instant boner as his cock took notice.

Not even his past girlfriends turned him on as much as watching the Stiles look-a-like cry out in pleasure. But sex had never been that important to him. In fact, the only people he'd ever been attracted to in that way were Paige and Jennifer.

He'd dated Paige in high school; she was his longest relationship. It was…fine. She was pretty and snarky and didn't put up with Derek's bullshit. She reminded him a lot of Stiles, actually.

Then there was Jennifer. He met her during his first year at university. Their relationship fizzled rather quickly, but there had been something about her that drew him in. Maybe it was how expressive she was when she talked, her hands always moving, telling their own story.

Shit.

Kind of like Stiles.

Now that he's thinking about it, both Paige and Jennifer were basically female versions of Stiles—at least in looks and mannerisms.

His family often joked that he had a type.

Hell, even a few hookups looked like Stiles. And then after, Derek always went home and cuddled with Stiles.

Fuck.

Derek lets out a strangled laugh as his mind spins and things click into place.

Stiles. It always comes back to Stiles.

Even the guys on the team even give him shit about their relationship. Over the past three years, Derek always went home whenever he could just to see Stiles. And now they live together. Derek never even asked Stiles if that's what he wanted. Maybe Stiles had wanted to live in the dorms with the other freshmen. Instead, Derek had gotten an apartment just for them, no questions asked.

It probably isn't healthy to be joined at the hip, but Derek doesn't care. He loves Stiles, loves being around him. And it's not like they don't or can't spend time apart. There were the three years when Stiles was still in high school and Derek was at university. And with football, sometimes Derek's away games are overnight stays, leaving Stiles at the apartment alone.

Sometimes, Stiles hangs out with the people he's met since school started while Derek stays home.

Sometimes, Derek's out with Boyd or Isaac while Stiles stays home.

Sometimes, they take separate trips to Beacon Hills because—contrary to popular belief—they can function without the other.

But mostly, they prefer to hang out together, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Right?

And, sure, they're more touchy-feely than anyone Derek's ever seen. It's not something he'd paid attention to before. But now Derek notices how often they cuddle. He notices that whenever Stiles is near, he has to touch him in some way—usually pressing up against him or placing a hand on the small of his back.

That's definitely not something most friends do, not even close ones.

They eat dinner together, clean up after each other, and are all around very…domestic.

Holy shit. Derek's basically in a relationship with Stiles.

The only thing missing is sex.

As if on cue, a soft moan comes from the bathroom, and Derek rubs his cock. He can't help but wonder who Stiles is thinking about. His dick goes soft because what if Stiles is thinking of Zac? Of that night in the bathroom and whatever other nights they were able to sneak away.

Was that the first night they hooked up?

Are they dating? Is it a friends-with-benefits thing?

Derek drags a hand down his face. He really is a horrible friend for not asking Stiles more about this. For essentially ignoring everything after they talked that night. But it was clear the conversation made Stiles uncomfortable. Hell, Derek was kind of uncomfortable, too, because the idea of someone else's hands on Stiles made him sick.

It should have been him with Stiles, not Zac. Stiles is his.

Oh.

Oh.

Holy shit, he's attracted to Stiles. But, more than that, he's pretty sure he's in love with him.

Looking back on it, Derek feels like an idiot. Of course, he's in love with Stiles. It's so simple but also scary because what if Stiles doesn't feel the same way?

Just because Stiles is gay doesn't mean he's attracted to Derek. Especially if Zac's his type, with his dirty blond hair and pale blue eyes.

He's also short.

Okay, maybe not that short. Like Stiles, Zac's probably only an inch or two shorter than Derek. He's just being salty now.

No. Actually, that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach is dread. Derek’s scared.

There’s a lot that he can handle, but the idea of Stiles rejecting him? He’s not sure he could take it. His future has always involved Stiles, and this could change things.

It might not change the bond they have, but it could make their relationship awkward. More awkward than it already is.

Part of him wishes he could go back to before he found out Stiles was gay. After all, isn't the healthiest way to deal with uncertainty and confusion to squash it deep down and pretend it doesn't exist?

Christ. Derek definitely spends too much time with Stiles if his first idea is to run away from his problems.

Derek's thoughts are interrupted when the shower cuts off.

Stiles comes back into the room a few minutes later, stilling when he notices that Derek's still awake. His hair is damp, standing in spikes from running a towel over it. There's a flush to his skin that could be from his orgasm or the hot shower.

It's awkward for a moment. Stiles is probably wondering if Derek could hear him, but then Stiles crosses the room and slides into bed. He faces the doorway, and that just won't do, so Derek loops an arm around his stomach and drags Stiles back against him.

"I'm not a toy you can manhandle, you know," Stiles says, though Derek can hear the smile in his voice.

Instead of answering, Derek closes his eyes and drags his nose along the back of Stiles's neck. He smells like Irish Spring, but there's also the lingering scent of his arousal.

Derek lets out a pleased rumble-purr and buries his face in the crook of Stiles's neck as he wraps himself around Stiles like a protective blanket.

No matter what, at least he has this.

December

Stiles tosses his keys on the kitchen counter and roots through the pantry, looking for something to eat. His last class ran a little late, and he's starving. It's his day to cook, but he needs something now, or else he'll be on the warpath, and it's better for everyone if he isn't hangry.

His phone chimes with an incoming text—Zac reminding him of a party his frat is hosting.

Stiles chews on his bottom lip as he debates whether to go or not. It'd be nice to hang out with some friends before the holiday break and let loose from all the stress of finals.

But a quiet night in with Derek is almost always preferable.

As if on cue, Derek steps into the kitchen. His hair is wet, and the towel slung low on his hips leaves little to the imagination as far as his assets go.

Stiles swallows thickly as he stares at Derek's drool-worthy naked chest.

Fuck. Do not pop a boner. Do not pop a boner.

It's seriously so unfair that Derek's so fucking hot. And straight. And far too damn comfortable with Stiles that he gives zero fucks about walking around half-naked.

All. The. Time.

Doesn't he realize that he's a walking wet dream? Stiles's, to be specific. Doesn't he realize that he's the star in every single one of Stiles's very vivid fantasies?

Probably not, because Derek's one of the most humble guys Stiles knows. He might know he's attractive, but he doesn't realize the sheer power of his smile. It brings out his dimples, and Stiles would commit murder for them.

Also, his abs. Rock-hard, solid muscle that Stiles wants to lick.

Stiles does his best not to perve on Derek, though. But he's not a saint and—fuck—Stiles can't help but wonder what it would feel like to rub himself against Derek's body. It's bad enough that he knows how it feels to have Derek wrapped around him like a blanket.

"Who's that?" Derek asks, walking behind him to grab an apple from the counter. He takes a big bite; the crunch is loud in the quiet apartment.

"Oh, uh, it's Zac. There's a party at the frat, so he was wondering if I was gonna go."

"And are you?"

Stiles shrugs, ignoring the hard edge of Derek's voice. It gets like that whenever Zac is mentioned lately. "I don't know. Maybe. You wanna come with?"

"Why don't we stay in and watch a movie?"

Stiles wants to retort, 'Why don't you put on a shirt?' but he manages to bite it back. It would raise unnecessary questions that Stiles absolutely does not want to answer.

"You're hungry, right? We can order in," Derek continues.

"I don't know. We're gonna be leaving for break soon. Might be fun to hit up one last party." Stiles opens the fridge and leans in, letting the frigid temperature cool him down. Seriously, are their towels shrinking? And does Derek have to tie it so low on his hips?

All it would take is for Stiles to flick his wrist or snap his fingers and that towel is gone.

It's so unfair.

Especially because now he's horny.

"Actually, you know what?" Stiles slams the fridge shut and stands up straight but then startles because—holy shit!—when did Derek get that close? "Jesus-fucking-Christ, Derek! I'm buying you a damn bell for Christmas!"

Derek's breath ghosts over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Fuck.

Stiles shivers. His cock twitches and his hole clenches, wanting to be filled.

"What were you going to say?" Derek's voice is a lot huskier than it usually is.

Or maybe it's wishful thinking on his part.

Yeah, Stiles definitely needs to get laid.

"I-I," Stiles clears his throat and steps to the side, putting some distance between them. He hates that he's probably blushing if the heat creeping up his neck to his cheeks is anything to go by. "I think I'm gonna go to the party. Y-Yeah. I-I'm gonna do…that. The party."

Derek raises a brow and fuck if that doesn't infuriate and turn him on. The bastard.

"Alright. Just give me a few to get ready."

Wait. What?

"What?"

Derek leans close, making Stiles gasp because it almost seems like Derek's going to kiss him or something, but then Derek reaches past him to toss the apple core into the trash. "I said just give me a few minutes to get dressed, and then we can go."

"You're…coming with me?"

Derek crosses his arms over his broad chest, making his pecs pop out. He asks something, but Stiles doesn't hear it. In fact, he's two-point-five seconds away from dropping to his knees and embarrassing himself.

"Stiles?"

He blinks at Derek in confusion. "Huh, what?"

"I asked if that was okay."

"O…kay?" Stiles asks, because what were they talking about again?

Derek huffs in amusement and grips Stiles's arms, ensuring Stiles looks him right in the eyes. "Is it alright if I come to the party with you?"

An unreadable expression crosses Derek's face at that moment as if he's just realized something. He lets go of Stiles and takes a step back. "I mean, if you don't want me to, it's fine." Then his voice goes quiet, almost vulnerable. "You're probably meeting up with…him. It's...okay. You know you don't have to hide that from me, right?"

What?

Derek wants to talk to him about…guys?

"That wouldn't make you uncomfortable?"

"I mean, I know we don't usually talk about that stuff, but you can. It doesn't have to be…awkward."

Uh, yes. Yes, it would be extremely awkward. So thank God that it's not something they've ever really talked about before because while, yes, Stiles knows that Derek has dated and hooked up with girls, he'd rather live in ignorant bliss.

A sour expression crosses Derek's face, like he just bit into a grapefruit, so Stiles puts him out of his misery.

"Er, I'd rather not talk about that. With you. You're my best friend, but maybe some things…"

"Right. Okay." Derek looks one part relieved but also disappointed. "And, actually, you know what? Forget about the party. I shouldn't have asked."

Crap.

Sure, hooking up with Zac was one of the reasons Stiles had considered going to the party, but Stiles would be damned if he ever made Derek feel like he wasn't wanted. Bros before…other bros that might potentially suck your dick and all that, right?

Before Derek can take another step back, Stiles grabs his arm. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower first, alright? Just gimme fifteen minutes."

Derek gives him a smile so small that Stiles has to squint to see it. Still, it's breathtaking.

"Knowing you, it'll be more like thirty," Derek says.

And just like that, the tension's gone.

"Oh, fuck you, dude."

They're out the door forty minutes later, finally heading to the party. Stiles is surprised that Derek doesn't give him shit for it, but Derek's hands are shoved in his pockets, and there's a sour expression on his face.

Stiles wants to call him out on his crappy mood and how he doesn't have to go to the party, but Derek's a big boy. In fact, he'd insisted, so instead of letting Derek's mood bring him down, Stiles skips ahead of him. He turns to Derek with a smile plastered on his face. "Did you know that every C in Pacific Ocean is pronounced differently?"

Derek huffs out an annoyed breath. Even with a scowl, he's beautiful.

Stiles hates how weird things have been between them lately. They still cuddle and stuff, but Derek's been more growly and possessive.

Don't get him wrong, Stiles likes it. But at the same time, he knows this is just how Derek is. Though, this is maybe a bit more…extreme than usual.

Still, it's not as if Derek actually wants him or anything. Derek's straight, after all.

But.

Then there are moments like earlier in the kitchen. Or times when he catches Derek watching him a little more intently, and Stiles can't help but wonder.

What if?

What if Derek felt the same?

Stiles shivers, and it's not from the cold. The idea of Derek wanting him is ridiculous, but still. Being the first man Derek ever touched and tasted—the first man Derek ever fucked—sends a jolt of arousal through his veins.

Warmth envelops him as Derek wraps his leather jacket around his shoulders. Stiles would protest that he's not cold, but then he'd have to give Derek's jacket back. Right now, if he closes his eyes, maybe he can pretend that things are different between them.

Besides, with how close they are—Derek's arm slung around his waist, so Stiles is pressed against him—they could be mistaken for a couple. It's happened before.

They get to the frat house, and at first, Derek doesn't let him go. Stiles blushes as people glance at them, but it's nothing they haven't seen before. Derek's usually touching him in some way.

But then Zac calls out his name. "Stiles!"

Zac brushes the hair back from his eyes, sweeping it to the side as he eyes Derek warily. "Hey, man."

"Zac," is all Derek says before dropping his arm. But then gently grips the back of Stiles's neck, bringing him close to whisper in his ear. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You want anything?"

Stiles turns his head, swallowing thickly at how close Derek is. "I, uh, I—"

"I've got him," Zac says, holding a cup out for Stiles.

Derek grabs it, taking a sip. Stiles would protest because Derek can't possibly think that Zac would drug him or something. Still, he supposes a person can never be too careful.

Zac scowls, seemingly understanding why Derek took his drink. "I wouldn't do that."

"Then you have no problem with me checking," Derek says, a brow raised in challenge. "He's mine. My pack. And I'll protect him from anyone. Got it?"

Zac throws his hands up with a heavy sigh, but he relents.

Then Derek hands Stiles the drink, nodding that it's fine, and Zac glances at Stiles. "Wanna dance?"

"Hell yeah." Stiles chugs his drink, needing the buzz to chase away the awkwardness before shrugging off Derek's jacket. He hands it back to him and follows Zac to the living room, where music pumps through the speakers.

The main lights are off, but there are party lights, casting the room in an eerie glow of pinks, purples, and blues that swoop along the walls.

Stiles gets lost in the music, arms flailing as he bounces to the rhythmic thumping of the bass.

Zac flirts with him, dancing close, but Stiles notices Derek glaring at them from across the room. He feels guilty, like he's betraying Derek by paying attention to another guy, even though he shouldn't. It's not as if he and Derek are dating—even though he wishes they were.

He's unsure how much time passes as he drinks and dances the night away, but then Zac palms his ass and kisses him.

After a moment, Zac breaks the kiss, dragging his lips to Stiles's ear. "Stay tonight? My roommate left early, so we'll have the room to ourselves."

Before Stiles can turn him down—because as much fun as he has with Zac, it's not fair to lead him on like this—Derek's there, sliding his arms around Stiles and pulling him back against him.

Stiles laughs as he spins in Derek's arms. "I swear to God, I'm not kidding about that bell!"

"Buy me whatever you want, baby. You know I'll wear it." Derek holds up his wrist, showing Stiles the friendship bracelet he still wears. Stiles made it for Derek when he was maybe seven? Honestly, it's been so long that he doesn't even remember.

"You're a dork," Stiles says fondly. He gasps when Derek's arm snakes around his waist and practically encourages Stiles to grind against him as they move to the beat of the music.

"Is this okay?" Derek asks. For all that they do, they've never done this.

Well, except for school dances. Derek never hesitated to pull Stiles in his arms during a slow song.

But the grinding? Yeah, that's new.

It makes Stiles giddy. Or maybe it's the alcohol, but Derek's so close and smells so good.

Stiles smirks as he dusts his knuckles over Derek's stomach.

There's a hitch in Derek's breath that shouldn't be audible over the music, but at this moment, the world is narrowed to just the two of them.

Filled with a sense of false confidence, Stiles slips his hands under Derek's shirt, pressing his palms against the hard ridges of Derek's abs. Derek might only be an inch taller than Stiles, but it feels like Derek towers over him as Stiles cranes his neck to look up at him. Derek's eyes flare with…something. Stiles would say it's interest, but he refuses to read into things. Even as they breathe together.

Even as Derek leans down, dragging his nose along Stiles's jaw.

Stiles's breathing grows ragged the closer Derek's lips get to his, but then someone knocks into them. Derek lets him go in favor of helping the person get to their feet.

Instead of pulling Stiles against him again once they stumble off, Derek shoves his hands in his pockets and clears his throat. He won't meet Stiles's eyes, and by the look on his face, it's clear he regrets what they were just doing.

And just like that, the moment is broken, and the high from having such a good time is gone.

"I wanna go home," Stiles says, wrapping his arms around himself. He let himself get too lost in his head and the idea that Derek could want him, too, and now it’s as if his entire being is an open wound.

His skin prickles as he imagines everybody staring at him.

Do they know how much Stiles wants Derek? How much he wanted that kiss?

Do they see the way Derek won’t even look at him?

It’s like an anvil dropping into the pit of his stomach as his anxiety rises, making him stone-cold sober.

Without giving Derek a second glance, he shuffles past everyone on the makeshift dance floor, needing air.

He can't be here anymore.

Stiles steps out onto the porch, gulping in the cold night air. He takes a few deep breaths, trying his best to push away the lump in his throat.

After a few more shuddering breaths, the tightness in his chest slowly releases. But then Derek’s there, a familiar warmth at his back, and Stiles hates the way it simultaneously brings him misery and comforts him.

"Stiles, I—"

"No." Stiles shakes his head. He’s too tired to hear whatever excuse Derek intends to give him—that he was drunk or was too caught up in the moment. "I just want to go home and sleep."

Derek doesn't protest as he leads Stiles from the party and back to their apartment, walking close beside him, their arms brushing every so often.

Still, Stiles has never felt more lonely.

New Year's Eve

Stupid Zac.

Seriously, if Stiles and Zac were serious, then Stiles should have told Derek because having Zac show up at his parent's house for the New Year's Eve party is like a sucker punch to the gut.

Though…Stiles seems a little shocked by Zac's arrival, too.

Still, it doesn't stop Stiles from laughing and joking with him. From flirting.

On one hand, Derek's happy for Stiles. It really is a relief to know Stiles isn't hiding this part of himself anymore. On the other hand, Derek absolutely hates it. Hates that someone else is on the other end of one of Stiles's smiles.

But Derek can't look away.

Instead, he seethes with jealousy as he watches Zac and Stiles. They'd make a cute couple, even Derek can tell that they look good together.

But just last week, Derek and Stiles almost kissed.

They. Almost. Kissed.

And Derek wanted it so bad.

But then someone bumped into them, and when he looked back at Stiles, his cheeks were flushed and his pupils dilated. The scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air, and Derek couldn't be sure Stiles realized it was him he was about to kiss. Hell, Stiles had already kissed Zac just moments before.

If Derek were a better person, he'd walk away. Stiles is clearly happy, and who cares that it's not with Derek? But Derek isn't a better person, so he stays. He watches and growls every time Zac touches Stiles. Every time Stiles smiles at him.

He wants to march over, throw Stiles over his shoulder, and take him upstairs away from prying eyes. He wants to rub himself all over Stiles, mark every inch of his lithe body so everyone knows that Stiles is his.

But he doesn't.

Because Derek loves Stiles too much to turn him into a possession. So instead, he takes a deep breath and plasters a smile on his face even though his heart is breaking.

The closer it gets to midnight, though, the more aggravated he gets. The thought of watching Stiles kiss Zac becomes unbearable, so he pushes away from the wall and stalks upstairs to his room, slamming his bedroom door shut like a sullen teenager.

It knocks the contents of his wall-mounted shelf over, including the wooden wolf Stiles got him for his tenth birthday. Apparently, Stiles had seen it when he was out with his mom and had to get it for Derek. He'd begged his mom to let him use his savings since he'd already spent his entire allowance on a video game Derek had wanted.

His wide, pleading eyes must have worked because Stiles presented it to him in a little gift bag with a proud smile on his face.

Derek picks it up and examines the battered toy, a symbol of their friendship. He cradles it close, wishing it could give him some kind of answer.

There's a tap on his door, but before he has a chance to ask who it is, the door flies open and Stiles charges in like a raging bull. The air around him is damn near electrified thanks to his Spark.

With a scowl on his pretty face and his arms crossed, he just looks at Derek.

Nothing is said for the longest time, so Derek sits in his desk chair.

Then it starts. Stiles's jaw tics and his fingers twitch. He shuffles from foot to foot for a few moments before the pacing begins. There's annoyance written in every line of his long, lean body.

Even angry, Stiles is so beautiful.

Stiles opens his mouth several times, like he's about to say something but then changes his mind. It feels like forever before Stiles finally says, "What the hell is your problem?"

The words hit Derek square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him as if Stiles reeled back and hurled them at him like a weapon.

Derek squares his shoulders, but what is he supposed to say?

That his problem is he's never felt this all-consuming kind of…want for someone before?

Sure, Stiles has always been there, but never with the possibility of more, and now it's all Derek can think about. It's like once he realized that he was in love with Stiles, that was it for him. He hasn't even bothered checking out other girls—or guys, for that matter—knowing he would only ever compare them to Stiles.

And against Stiles, there is no contest.

But while Derek's been trying to figure out a way to tell his best friend that he's in love with him, Stiles has been out there, giving Zac those lazy, crooked smiles.

Those are Derek's smiles!

They're not for family or friends. And certainly not for Zac.

"Derek, I am so serious right now." Stiles stands with his hands on his hips, his head and shoulders hunched in defeat.

"I'm in love with you," Derek whispers, his voice hoarse with the strain of forcing himself to say the words.

This changes everything.

Derek stares at Stiles, waiting for him to say something and wishing he could take it back because Stiles is quiet.

Stiles is never quiet, so this can't possibly be good.

"What did you just say?" Stiles's voice comes out rough. He points an accusatory finger at Derek, getting right in his face.

Derek leans back in his chair when Stiles jabs that finger into his chest. "Ow."

But not even his lame exclamation of pain stamps down the ire in Stiles's eyes. "What…the fuck…did you just say to me?"

Derek reaches up, hating how his fingers shake as he covers Stiles's hand, moving it over his heart.

"I said," he closes his eyes, steeling himself for a moment before opening them again, "that I'm in love with you."

Stiles lets out a strangled laugh before narrowing his eyes. It's odd being on this side of Stiles's anger. "But you're straight!"

"I thought I was," Derek says quietly. "But then I saw you with Zac and I…" He never realized things could be different between them. That they could be more.

"You what? Do you feel threatened by him? Do you think you're going to lose me or something? Because I'm not going anywhere, Derek." Stiles's hard glare softens to something like understanding and he sighs. "You're my best friend and that's never going to change. You're the most important person in my life. I love you."

And somehow, Derek knows that it's not a platonic love. Not when Stiles's voice breaks, when it sounds like a plead for Derek to understand.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"And possibly lose you? No way." Stiles shakes his head as he straightens, backing away and resuming his pacing. "I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all."

He sounds beaten, despondent and dejected, as if he's finally coming to terms with something.

And that just won't do.

"But I love you!" Derek implores, standing. The chair rolls back, colliding with his desk with a hard thud. "Even before this, I have always loved you. You wouldn't have lost me."

Stiles laughs; it's a wet sound, like he's got something stuck in his throat. "It would have been different. Things would have changed. You'd have looked at me differently, knowing how I felt. I know you, Derek. You'd have done something stupid like force yourself into a relationship with me because you'd have wanted to make me happy."

"No, I wouldn't!" Derek might be willing to do anything for Stiles, but if his feelings weren't genuine, he'd never hurt Stiles by staying in a sham of a relationship. "I know how I feel about you. Sure, I might have only realized it after seeing you with Zac, but that's only because I didn't know things could be different between us! Hell, if you'd told me before, maybe I would have realized my feelings sooner."

He pushes Stiles back a little as he takes a deep breath. "Do you know that I've never even thought about seriously settling down with anyone? My parents have asked me a few times. Even my friends ask me. But do you know what I always say? I have you. I don't need anyone else. I've never needed anyone the way I need you."

Maybe he should say something about the fact that they're practically dating already, but Stiles interrupts his train of thought.

"What if you only think you're in love with me? What if you're just confused? Hell, Derek, you freaked out last week when we were about to kiss! That's pretty fucking tell—"

Derek cuts off his rambling by backing him up against the door and kissing him.

Stiles tastes like orange juice, amaretto, and lime. His lips are soft and plump, and just a flick of his tongue makes Derek groan—his entire body igniting as anticipation fills his veins.

Nothing has ever felt so right, like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

It’s not long before the kiss goes from sweet to molten.

Stiles moans as Derek presses impossibly close, his whole body trembling with the need to have every inch of himself covering Stiles’s body.

Derek cups the back of Stiles’s head to deepen the kiss—a kiss he never knew could be so hot. So consuming.

It's rough and hot and raw and makes Derek insanely hard.

Stiles holds his waist. His fingers digging into Derek’s hips as if he’s scared Derek will pull away.

But then he moves, just a tiny thrust of his hips and…well, hello there.

Stiles is hard too.

Derek’s never felt a dick against his own. It should freak him out, but this is Stiles, so instead of tensing up, it just turns him on even more. To know that he did that, and all with a kiss.

Stiles pulls away, his head thunking back against the door. His lips are spit-slick, red and swollen, and his hair is in disarray from Derek’s fingers.

"Derek," Stiles says in a low, gruff whisper that sends an electrical pulse down Derek’s spine. Or maybe it's Stiles's Spark, warming him as Stiles's hands trail over his back.

Derek pants, pressing their forehead together.

Stiles's breath puffs over his face for a few moments before he gets his breathing under control.

Derek gently cradles Stiles's face, kissing him—softly this time.

Stiles melts into him, hands sliding up Derek's biceps, shoulders, and neck until they slip into his hair. He pulls back and gazes at Derek with something close to awe in his expression.

"Stiles…" Derek takes a deep breath. "The only reason I didn't kiss you that night was because we were both drinking. And, if I'm being honest, I didn't think you wanted me like that. You told me you were gay, but you never said anything else. You didn't act any different with me. You still flirted with Zac. How was I supposed to know how you felt? It'd be pretty fucking conceited to think that just because you were gay, you were into me."

"God, you're an idiot. I thought you were straight, Derek." There's silence for a moment before Stiles continues, "Is this real? I feel like I'm dreaming."

Derek brushes his thumbs over Stiles's cheeks, smiling softly when Stiles gently grips his wrists, like he's making sure Derek won't let him go. "It's real. I love you. I'm in love with you."

He'll never be able to stress that enough. Never be able to explain his bone-deep yearning for Stiles. The ache in his chest that is Stiles.

There's yelling through the door as people downstairs start counting down to midnight.

"Ten…nine…eight…"

Stiles whispers, "Say it again."

"Six…five…"

"I love you, Stiles."

"Two…one!"

As the clock strikes midnight, Derek swears the room gets brighter, the warmth of Stiles's Spark surrounding them.

Derek kisses him again.

And again and again, until everything else fades away, and it's just them, lost in the moment, in love, for the first time and forever.

Epilogue - Two(ish) Years Later

Derek swallows thickly as they reach the end of the dock.

Stiles makes a pleased sound, staring out at the lake. The sun bathes him in gold as he tilts his head back, soaking up its rays. "Mmm…I'm glad we came here."

Usually, they only come to his family's cabin during the summer, but it's always a family event, and Derek wants this moment to be just them.

Stiles looks at him, a soft smile on his face. "Remember when we were younger and we'd write messages in bottles and toss 'em into the lake?"

"As a matter of fact…" Derek does remember that. How Stiles insisted on it after reading the Nicholas Sparks book. And, of course, Derek went along with it. Though, their messages were usually wishes for themselves or each other instead of others. Like the one he has today.

He pulls a bottle from the picnic basket he prepared.

"Is that…?" Stiles snorts as realization dawns on him. "You're such a romantic. So what's the message?"

"I wanna be with you," Derek whispers into his ear before kissing his cheek. "And if you start singing Mandy Moore, I'll throw you in the water instead of this bottle."

Derek's hands are steady as he holds out the bottle for Stiles. Under the folded sheet with his wish is an engagement ring. "Here. Hold this. I brought you a bottle and some paper to write your own."

Knowing Stiles, he'll shake the bottle, wonder what the clinking sound is, and find the ring.

Unfortunately, as Derek grabs the paper and another bottle, Stiles rears his arm back and throws Derek's bottle into the lake. It hits the water with a splash disappearing under the water but thankfully comes back up a second later.

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He should have known this would happen. He really, really should have known.

He reaches behind himself, yanking his shirt over his head as he kicks off his shoes and socks. Then he unbuttons his pants.

"Uh…not that I'm complaining or anything," Stiles says, damn near eye-fucking Derek as he steps out of his pants, leaving him clad in only his black boxer briefs, "but why are you getting naked?"

"You weren't supposed to throw the bottle."

"But…" Stiles frowns. "That's the tradition."

"Yeah, but not that one."

"We put the message in the bottle," Stiles exclaims, arms flailing, "and then we throw the bottle in the lake!" 

"Yeah, well, that one has your engagement ring in it."

Stiles's mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.

Derek shakes his head, huffing a laugh that's amusement mixed with a bit of exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me forever?" Stiles says, looking a little sheepish, but the fresh scent of spring fills Derek's senses. The grass behind them looks a little greener, the sky a little more blue as Stiles's happiness radiates all around them.

"Always." Derek cups the back of Stiles's head and kisses his forehead before diving off the dock.

When he comes up to get his bearings, Stiles yells, "I love you!" but his voice has a teasing lilt, so Derek flips him off before looking around for the bottle. The sun glints off the glass not too far in the distance since the current's not too bad.

Derek's back on the deck within five minutes, down on one knee in front of Stiles.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, shaking the water from his hair.

Stiles's eyes shine with tears as he nods, practically tackling Derek to the ground and almost knocking the ring out of his hand. "Yes!"

Derek slips the ring on Stiles's finger before standing. He cups Stiles's face, kissing him deeply.

"I love you," he breathes against Stiles's lips, happier than he ever thought possible.

"I love you, too." Stiles smiles, the sun illuminating the tiny gold specks in his eyes. "Forever."

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Look how we paid the price This bloodshed could have been avoided If I convinced Heaven to work together I took a hotel and I destroyed it I know I could have done better Better, instead of letting you down

Come on little lady, why the frown? In the last ten-thousand years You're the first one to change this town You can do this, now I know it! For your story has just begun You can't quit now, hell, you owe it There's still damage to be undone You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts Found the good in souls gone bad The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone But by God, Luz! The show, it must go on!

We can do this, we can build it Best hotel that you've ever seen Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it It starts with you You know it's true Fulfill your destiny! So long as I've got all of you with me

To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber Good thing we're in Hell Check out this little magic number

Start with foundation A remedial creation for me

It's as easy as can be! No time for cryin', we've got a lot of work to do and We gotta try and make the best of what's in ruins New coat of paint! New lights across the marquee With a little sorcery

After the battle, masterless cattle Coven heads hanging by a thread With a bit of bravado, maybe tomorrow We'll be atop the heap Nature abhors a power vacuum It leaves room for you and me The future of Hell belongs to the Vee's

This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air And I barely escaped being killed by a hair "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends" Sorry to disappoint, that is not where this ends I'm hungry for freedom like never before The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor Once I figure out how to unclip my wings Guess who will be pulling all the strings?

We can do this (We can do this) We'll be better (We'll be better) Though redemption may take a while (Though it may take a while) Wayward sinners clear their ledger And we're doing it with a smile! We'll make a difference, wait and see We're gonna do this, you and me And then tomorrow, it will be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!

[sailtomarina]

I heard what you said about me

I’m currently on a short weekend vacation on the coast and stumbled across a couple of writing craft books by Ursula K. Le Guin, one of which includes exercises. I decided to combine her first one, called “Being Gorgeous,” with the daily Dramione prompt, “I heard what you said about me.”

The flicker of the firelight dances across his features as he faces the warmth, welcoming it as one might a dear friend or reluctant enemy. She watches him at a distance, waiting, studying, considering her approach and the possible outcomes. Everyone they both know has already gone home, leaving just the two of them in the night—them and the pub staff and bar regulars, all people who keep their own counsel and understand that whatever happens here stays here. There’s an unspoken solidarity in the quiet communion of alcohol. It welcomes the sip and savor, the clinking of ice against glass. It abhors chatter and the outpouring of vocal emotion.

Somehow, he notices her presence, turning to catch her eye and tilting his chin up as if to say, “Join me. There’s plenty of room to share.” And so she does join him, so quickly it’s as if she apparates into place—but there’s no noise, no telling crack in the air. One moment she stands in the corner staring, and the next she’s here, bathing in the light of the fireplace as if she’s been here the whole time.

“I heard what you said about me.”

She’s shocked by the sound of her own voice. Of all the imagined scenarios, this was not one of them.

“And what, pray tell, did you hear?” His voice is so low, the murmur is nearly lost to the crackling wood.

Hermione isn’t sure whether to blame the alcohol or her own desperate heart, but she chooses to lean in to him before responding. One step to the left and she’s there, head tilted to rest on his shoulder, arms pressed against one another sharing warmth.

“My answer is yes.”

And here comes his arm, a slight shifting of his shoulder as he wraps fingers around her waist to tug her even closer. A soft weight drops across the top of her head, and she knows white blonde hairs now tangle with curly brown.

She knows Draco knows what she means. She knows they want the same thing. She knows, and he knows, and now the quiet crowd around them knows.

-3 hours earlier-

“So when in the bloody hell are you going to ask her out?”

“That’s none of your business, mate.”

“Because if you don’t ask, I’m gonna ask. I’m tired of waiting for your slow arse.”

“You fucking wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“I don’t even know if she’d be interested in me like that. What do I have to offer that she can’t get better elsewhere?”

“Ah, yes, I agree, my cock IS bigger than yours—”

“Fuck OFF, Theo—”

“If you insist…”

“I will ask her when I bloody well feel like, when the moment feels right.”

“Theo Nott allllways feels right.”

“THEO. Shut the fuck up.”

[dickytwister]

deep fried ben affleck smoking meme. please and thak you

TEEHEE wip that means sm to me,,,,, it's abt my boy carter post-dnd game when he becomes emperor from the pov of his bodyguard,,,, but carter is just. an littol guy,, and being an emperor away from all his friends is soooo hard for him,,,,, snippet under the cut be upon ye,,,

Daerhen is plucked from his position as General of the King’s armies a day before the new emperor’s coronation. It comes as a surprise; he’s been nothing but loyal to the empire, from the very moment he left his mother and sisters on Eter to become a soldier, when his hand first held a pistol, when he first took a life in the name of his lord. To be taken from his position in the army, one he’s worked tirelessly for many years to deserve, and be demoted to bodyguard, would have had any lesser man protesting vehemently.  But Daerhen is no lesser man, and he keeps his discontent well hidden under the thick cotton of his new uniform.  The coronation is grandiose, as one would expect. The King has been ruling for decades and has been desperately trying to reach his heir for half as long. This, the great hall crowded with nobility and what few people of lower standing managed to pay their way into the citadel, decorated from the marble floors to the painted ceilings, tables lined with appetizers and delicacies more delectable than the next, has been a very long time coming, and everyone is celebrating to their hearts’ content. King J'son stands next to the throne, one hand draped over the back, and looks at the crowd with a satisfied glint in his tired eyes. From where he’s leaning against a pillar, fingers loosely wrapped around the stem of a flute, Daerhen observes the new emperor. The young man is sitting on the throne with his back straight, his arms carefully placed on either side of his body, chin held high in a way that makes the ceremonial crown shine under the colourful lights of the plankton and the flickering ones of the candles that have been lit merely for aesthetic purposes. He is dressed in the finest silk, with hues of purple cascading along the seams of his outfit. Yet, for all that he wears the crown and the hues of purple and sits upon the same throne his grandfather sat upon before him, Carter Quill looks nothing like the ruler he’s meant to be.  If he didn’t abhor him for being the reason behind his demotion, Daerhen would pity him; while the band starts on another song and people gather round to dance, the emperor sits still under the weight that’s now resting heavy on his shoulders. 

[herresponsibiliity]

so i wrote my Supernatural AU Bio:

Sirens, bird-like women who lure men t their deaths, have long been romanticized. Only those with proper knowledge know they actually exist. Preying on those who would devote themselves to the Siren, even if it caused death, Sirens take pleasure in tormenting their victims until they become bored with their playthings. Not all sirens were like that, abhorred by the monsters they were they went to the oceans. Drawn to the waters and there they made a pact with the god, Poseidon. In their efforts to populate his oceans and protect them he would alter their bodies and instincts. No longer scary monsters, they were beautiful half-fish half-human mystical creatures known today as mermaids. They were kinder, sweeter than their original counterparts, and unearthly beautiful. Unfortunately, their efforts to bring humans to the sea rebounded on them as many of them chose to drown than change into what they considered monsters. As much as they had tried to get away from being what they were, they were once again labeled the very thing they ran from. And now, they were hunted. It was said eating the flesh of a mermaid gave you beauty and immortality and powers along with the memories of the mermaid. Memories of where they hid their treasures. Mermaids love anything shiny or sentimental and welcome such transactions when dealing with wishes. Their caves are filled with riches beyond measure that would make any human weep. Despite the animosity between humans and merfolk, they have been known to save humans with their kisses, giving the human the power to breathe underwater for a period of time. They were, also, hunted for their tears as they turned into pearls. Eventually they were given the power to transform into humans, better to hide amongst the humans and convince them of the sea. Unfortunately, mermaids can’t be out of eater for long otherwise their skin begins to flake off, they lose their ability to talk, and they lose their powers. For each mermaid those powers vary but all mermaids can swim fast, breathe underwater in either the mermaid or human forms, change their forms, enchant with their voices, and communicate telepathically. For Attina she inherited her father’s gift for controlling the weather, it’s worse when she is sick as she has no control over it. Her voice, paired with her harp can be deadly though she often uses it to soothe a crowd when it becomes anxious. She’s known to use it when at parties for her father’s political campaigns. She can control water and heat it, which is useful for her as she prefers to swim in warm water. By mermaid’s standards she is 24 though by a human’s she is 600. Every 25 human years is equal to 1 merfolk year. A college student on the surface world, she desperately wants to pursue music with her harp, to perform in concerts and be known for her own work than being the daughter of the political animal her father has become. Governor of their state to which her father wishes for her to become like him and be mayor of their city. So, she takes classes for both as she knows she’d never be able to withstand a place if she didn’t do something she loved. Little does she know it is because her father is preparing his eldest daughter to become part of the underground families that run the city. He trusts none other than his own family and the competence his eldest has shown in handling her grades and sisters tells him she would be the perfect pick.

what do you think??

[foldingfittedsheets]

Okay, so my betrothed and I just finished First Kill, and as we knew we weren’t getting a second season the cliffhanger wasn’t as devastating. But it left a lot of loose threads, so! Here’s how I think the series should have wrapped up.

First off, Elinor stands trial and is found absolutely and unequivocally guilty of being an absolutely unhinged monster. Her parents stay away and learn later that she’s sentenced to burn at the stake once she fails the silver test. This is revealed as the first step of the big secret Legacy killing move. While being chained to the stake she starts screaming confessions trying to get mercy from her parents in the crowd. She admits to all the horrible things she made Oliver do as the flames go up and they shrink back in horror. Oliver shows up to behead her under the guise of zealous betrayed family and has a nice moment with his parents that ultimately doesn’t change his end goal of causing chaos.

Theo is utterly horrified at Oliver’s monster army. He plays along to get vampire training and ends up becoming a double agent, passing info to his mom on monster attacks so the hunters can stay one step ahead. I think it’s also fair to say that along the way he’s introduced to legacy lore and is able to trace the vampire who killed his mom and exact his revenge. He uses blood bags and willing donors to feed, and falls for one of his donors. He ends up being instrumental in taking Oliver down and in the process finds the spell to restore his humanity.

The parents decide to cut their losses and dip out of their extremely compromised identities, leaving to become embroiled in Legacy and Keeper politics which is hampered somewhat by:

Juliette and Calliope both respectively run away. They have had enough of borderline abusive family lives and the bullshit. Juliette has no desire to be Keeper in Waiting and abhors most of the current system. She flees to a new city and sets up shop as a freelance monster hunter. She finds a morgue hook up to keep her supplied with blood without needing to prey on anyone and keeps her chosen city safe.

Cal similarly sets out to be a lone monster hunter, no longer trusting the Guild who tried to kidnap her for unknown reasons or the family that turned on one of its own. She travels more, going from city to city cleaning up obviously supernatural massacres.

It’s seven years before they meet up again, Cal having heard rumors of a city with a mysterious protector. She suspects it’s a Legacy and is shocked to find Juliette standing over a recently dispatched demon. Cal initially is distrustful of Juliette’s motives and they duke it out. Juliette drops a hint in the fight that she’s not the real monster, Cal’s precious Guild is.

Cal backs off and they hesitantly begin to work together to uncover more of the Guild’s secrets. They grow closer slowly and warily and finally discover that the Guild is actually run by Legacy vampires. It’s the perfect way to suppress louder supernatural competition and keep the general populace from investigating them. It also means they can obscure and destroy any mention of Legacy vampires or their weaknesses when they’re uncovered. Hence why the Guild wanted Cal in the first place. It was Juliette’s grandmother who ordered the raid in the first place knowing Juliette’s father would be the only vampire actually vulnerable to the hunters.

They take down the Guild together and reunite in the ensuing adrenaline. Juliette asks if Cal still wants to kill her, and Cal admits she never really did, and that monster can mean a lot of different things, but that Juliette isn’t one of them. As they’re leaving the scene of the final battle in the Guild, walking passed the charred decapitated remains of the Legacy leaders, Cal sees a cracked door. It leads into a library of suppressed knowledge- one tidbit of which is that if a Legacy isn’t consecrated by the Malkia serpent then it’s possible to attain humanity. The girls look at each other and the curtain closes on the choice they’ll make together.

[cynical-demon]

It was harder than it should’ve been to place people @rainbowsidesofacat

Alastair:

He did it for us, the ultimate sacrifice

He gave me his trust, and look how we paid the price

This bloodshed could have been avoided

If I convinced Heaven to work together

I took a hotel and I destroyed it

I know I could have done better

Better, instead of letting you down

Royce:

Come on little man, why the frown?

In the last 10,000 years

You're the first one to change this town

You can do this, now I know it!

For your story has just begun

You can't quit now, hell, you owe it

There's still damage to be undone

You've changed my mind, you've touched their hearts

Found the good in souls gone bad

The stage is wrecked, the crowd is gone

But my God, Alastair!

The show, it must go on!

Everyone:

We can do this

We can build it

Best hotel that you've ever seen!

Twice the bedrooms, we can fill it

Royce:

With more sinners than you can dream!

Everyone:

It starts with you, you know, it's true

Fulfill your destiny!

Alastair:

So long as I've got all of you with me!

Noah:

To build a hotel, I think we need some brick and lumber

Royce:

Good thing we're in Hell. Check out this little magic number!

Adrien:

Start with foundation

Royce:

A remedial creation from me

Royce, Noah, Adrien:

It's as easy as can be!

Alastair:

No time for crying, we got a lot of work to do and

We gotta try and make the best of what's in ruins

Edward:

New coat of paint!

Zavis:

New lights across the marquee

Alastair, Edward, Zavis:

With a little sorcery!

Alex:

After the battle, masterless cattle

Alex and Damien:

Overlords hanging by a thread

With a bit of bravado

Maybe tomorrow, we'll be atop the heap

Damien:

While the rest of Hell's pissing

Alex:

Abby is missing

Alex and Damien:

Fled with his tail between his legs

Nature abhors a power vacuum, it leaves room for you and me

The future of Hell belongs to The Vees

Abby:

This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air

And I barely escaped being killed by a hair

"Great Abbadon, altruist, died for his friends"?

Sorry to disappoint... That is not where this ends!

I'm hungry for freedom like never before

The constraints of my deal surely have a back door

Once I figure out how to unclip my wings

Guess who will be pulling all the strings!

Everyone:

We can do this

We'll be better

Though redemption may take a while

Wayward sinners, clear their ledger

Abby:

And we're doing it with a smile (Royce: Oh this guy...)

Alastair:

We’ll make a difference, wait and see

Alastair and edward:

We're gonna do this, you and me

Everyone:

And then tomorrow it will be a fuckin' happy day in Hell!

[empyreal-insights]

Flashback: The Men

{original post}

Last night I dreamt I was in a crowd, and got close to a fairly large group of marauding men. I watched them for awhile, knowing they were looking for a mark. I hoped the festive atmosphere would deter them. 

Once I saw they intended to do harm, I started speaking to them. I tried telling them they didn’t need to hurt anyone, that they could find another way to satisfy whatever need they had. 

They were startled, but quickly shook off the lecture. They kept going for… someone.  

So I stopped them energetically. Froze them solid. Then - more telepathically than literally - I reached into their chests and grabbed their hearts to rearrange them… 

Just then, my backup alarm woke me again. 

.

A little later, I go into my morning meditation. Typically I close it by consciously dedicating three breaths to something or someone. The last breath led me to say an incantation for the masculine. 

The world is coming into a deeper understanding of how toxic masculinity harms, maims, and kills us. As we reject that standard, we also must hold a vision of the Divine Masculine we require; the one that will thrive beyond the brokenness, misdirected anger, and strife. 

Let the pain and disappointment bubble up and pour over. Just know it’s important to fill that gap with a new vision: something we can respect, love, and nurture into wholeness. 

Never forget: nature abhors a vacuum, and summoning naturally follows a banishment.

.

Men: beware, and be aware. It is time to heal. 

Lift the armor and stone weights from your hearts. Let yourselves smile and laugh as you did when you were boys and babies. Bring that joy and crooked grin into your now. Play. Enjoy yourselves.

Use your strength to protect, shield, and deflect. Organize; become the faces of loving, sincere justice in your communities - not out of ego, but because it’s the right thing to do and be.

Use the energy of your manhood to create art, music, shelter, work the land. Do you know how many languages use similar terms for the gardening hoe and the phallus? That is by design. Prepare a place your people can grow in. 

Love women. All women. Honor them. Ask them what they need to thrive and provide it - without hesitation and out of love and respect, never ownership.

Get intimate with your dreams and partner with someone that supports them. You are not a reed in the wind; you are a man, and action is your birthright. Direct your drive by feeding it with the energy that compliments you.

Grow up. And keep growing. 

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

[iconfusionwastaken]

1 large 'Ingo dumped into Minecraft AU' post

lots of stuff under the cut

If you want to make your own AUs/fics/art/etc. based on/inspired by/for anything on this post, you're beyond free to do so.

Ingo is not eeby deebied to Hisui but instead the world of Minecraft, maybe it's like, idk, Hermitcraft, Dream SMP, 3rd Life, Last Life, Afterlife SMP, Empires SMP, EvoSMP, Hypixel, a Pixelmon server or anywhere else.

Maybe the roleplay that happens in these worlds are just roleplay, all done for fun, maybe it's instead reality for the inhabitants, not an rp, or it's instead a mixture of both.

Maybe he's stuck in a single player world (maybe he finds out he can exit this world, create new ones, etc. etc.)

Nevertheless, Ingo is a man from a mortal world stuck in a place where unless the world is hardcore, immortality is indefinite.

Memory loss or not, Ingo is gonna have a difficult time adjusting to a Minecraft world, especially 1 that runs off of Minecraft Mechanics.

If we go 100% w/ the video game abilities, & Ingo gains every ability normal Minecraft players have, he kinda becomes what the Pokemon world would see as a godlike entity. All of this could be overwhelming for him at 1st.

What about adding mods like many of us do? Imagine Ingo finding mods that allow players to make trains in Minecraft & installing them all in his single player worlds if he has any.

Anyways, say after Ingo is long finished adjusting & is now used to Minecraft, let's say it's time for Emmet to discover his big brother is alive. I have 2 ideas for this.

Getting isekaied back to Unova, & the MCC

Getting Isekaied Back Home

So Ingo for whatever reason is returned to Unova. Whether Ingo holds any memories or not depends on you. I'm going w/ no memories.

Ingo gets a poor reintroduction to the world w/ the wrong sort of people crowding around him.

He does the only thing he can do, armor up in a quick few seconds, & draws his shield & sword.

This freaks everyone else tf out because they were expecting pokemon not a goddamn sword!

Ingo does a classic minecraft escape, maybe w/ an enderpearl/towering up.

Both freak out everyone around him, but the towering causes more chaos.

Eventually the news spread around about this freaky guy who armored himself up w/o having it on him before & the likes.

Ingo tries laying low somewhere away from people, figure out where he is.

He types in chat, something along the lines of, "I've wound up in the wrong station, can the admin of this world help bring me to my correct station?"

Since he's the only person w/ chat, nobody else sees his message.

Or maybe, instead, everyone within a certain radius sees the message infront of them/hears it somehow & are confused bcus wtf is this? Also who is using Ingo's name? That's fucked he's a missing person.

Ingo tries to lay low, but fiascos continue to happen & eventually it gets out that this weird person "wearing" Ingo's face that may be a psychic/pokemon in disguise because of all the weird shit he pulls off & this freaky stuff he has on him, plus he has no pokemon & when people try to fight him he brings up a shield & weapons?

Ingo meanwhile is a confused lad & wants to get home, even when this place feels weirdly familiar & nostalgic, as are these strange creatures who are clearly smart enough to make their own choices like players.

Maybe he befriends some mons & they travel w/ him.

As ingo learns, people apparently don't fight w/ swords or whatnot, but w/ creatures of immense power instead. Regardless, he'd rather not fight anyone & instead run away, because it's 1 thing to fight another person who also has a weapon, & another thing to fight someone who is basically unarmed w/o the powerful creatures by their side, & something deep inside Ingo abhors the idea of harming these creatures at all.

At some point Ingo hears about this guy named Emmet who people are calling his twin? Well, Ingo remembers nothing, & has been down on his luck recently, but maybe this guy has answers? They do look alike after all.

So begins Ingo's journey to Nimbasa w/ many misadventures along the way.

Emmet who's recently heard of this Ingo imposter also learns this guy has been heading towards Nimbasa.

Thus, Emmet, still in grief over his missing twin, decides to confront this person wearing Ingo's face.

In Nimbasa, Ingo's recognized & chased by police under the impression he's guilty of identity theft & Ingo takes the chase to roofs which he uses blocks on him to bridge between but then he's cornered, there's no nearby ledge or roof, he has no blocks left, but he has a water bucket, & can get away by jumping down.

Meanwhile, the very ledge where Ingo is cornered at happens to be the enterance to the building & Emmet just got there, he was gonna enter the building & sprint his way to the roof top until he noticed Ingo who jumped off the ledge holding something in his hand.

Ingo attempts an MLG Waterbucket as he's done countless times before and ends up dying.

Listen we all have our days where things just go wrong.

Emmet sees this doppelganger of his brother jump down, fall onto the pavement legs first, collapse to his side while flashing red for a brief moment only for the body to disappear in smoke.

Everyone around Ingo at the time hears the words: Ingo fell from a high place

Even if Emmet is certain that wasn't his brother, that strange sentence only terrifies him.

Also, every object, from weapons, to armor, to food, & more, is scattered on the ground, as are xp points which have no where to go because no players are nearby.

Wait I just came up for another branch in this AU

Despite being confused, the police decide to confiscate all of Ingo's stuff.

Ingo meanwhile, who was lucky enough to have a bed on him & set him spawn somewhere near Nimbasa city & promply goes to get at least some iron gear since there's a good chance he isn't getting his stuff back. He isn't as dumb as to stay armorless forever.

When people try to do something about the XP, they can't, it just stays in place, only jerking around in the same small area.

IDK where to continue from here.

Branch 2! Emmet absorbs the XP!

When Ingo dies and looses all his stuff & leaves some XP behind, Emmet is the closes person nearby. Despite not being a player, the XP goes to him.

Emmet doesn't realize what's happened until it's already occured, as he hears the jingles of XP.

He doesn't feel different & after a checkup which doesn't see anything wrong, he continues life as normal, as much as he can given all the havoc going on.

It's generally assumed that the doppelganger is good as dead for a while until he's spotted again.

That's not the only thing however, Emmet's been feeling strange lately.

It starts small, being able to pick objects up much quicker, even when his hand was no where near them. If he stood next to an object he wanted, it could suddenly be in his hand.

Then it became involuntary.

He discovered that if he just had a quick snack, his stamina would suddenly come back to him, & he could go back to sprinting.

Whenever he wanted to take something on/off, the clothing in question would already be worn/taken off.

When going to bed, he'd feel the sensation of falling asleep in a matter of seconds only to wake up to morning so suddenly.

Eventually he's start to wake up standing next to his better when he swore seconds before he was falling asleep in bed.

Soon he can hold up to 9 objects in some pocket dimension he aruptly has, & he can cycle between all these objects.

When Emmet tries to put something down 1 day, he drops it on the ground instead, it looks tinier than it should be, & it spins slowly, just like everything the doppelganger of Ingo scattered that day

1 day, Emmet wakes up to a line of text is his sight, that nevers goes away no matter what direction he looks.

Emmet has joined the game

<Ingo> Hello! Do you happen to know who's server this is? I'm kind of stuck here and can't log out of here.

(I also have this idea where Ingo gets stuck in Unova w/ some other players who have long become good friends of him & all of them causing madness together but this is long enoug lmao)

I imagine if Ingo kept his memories, he'd not just be estastic to be home, but would go straight towards Nimbasa city, misunderstandings & madness still happens, but it's a smoother experience.

Sidenote, would miltank milk function just like cow milk from minecraft, curing status effects like poison & the likes? Would it only apply to potion effects or do effects from pokemon & more count too?

The MCC Reveal

Ingo, after having long since adjusted to the world, gets an invite to MCC, which he accepts.

Unrelated to Ingo going to MCC for the 1st time ever, the universe of Minecraft has found & established communication w/ the world of Pokemon, where Ingo once belonged.

It's huge news for both worlds, w/ constant updates of what people have learned about the other world being released.

Once again going the Amnesiac Ingo route, Ingo can't help but feel that the Pokemon seem awfully familiar, & the Pokemon universe as a whole seems so nostalgic to him.

Since MCC is coming up, Noxcrew decide to set it up so that when the event goes live, even the Pokemon universe can see what's going on.

It's the most the MCC has ever been hyped up.

When the teams are revealed, everyone from the Pokemon world who knows anything about Ingo does a spit take upon seeing him in 1 of the teams.

When the pokemon universe contacts the minecraft universe about Ingo, the Minecraft world is like: Ingo? Yeah he's a good guy who unfortunately has amnesia, why do you ask?

That's when the pkmn world reveals Ingo's history & he's from Unova & the Minecraft universe is like 'oh, SHIT.'

& so Ingo is informed that it was discovered that he has a twin, is from the pkmn world, among other things.

Alternatively, ppl could somehow not get te news about Ingo being in MCC, the event starts, but then people find out someone who looks like Ingo is in the event. He looks like Ingo.

Mid-tournament, people find out where the missing twin of Emmet is.

I wanna write down ideas for if Emmet became a player instead of Ingo, or they both end up in Minecraft, maybe they go w/ Elesa or it's just Elesa. Maybe their pokemon come w/ them, the likes, but I've already used so much brain juice plus this post is already long enough.

[valwentinefics]

Okay I'm a sucker for Zemo, and I keep refreshing Tumblr for new stories. Thank you for writing about him!

Could you do one with enemies to lovers, where both Zemo and the f reader won't admit anything to themselves? However when they go undercover in the club, to keep the disguise they have to dance together. At first Zemo does his dance, but the reader takes the reins and teaches him how to blend in better. Steamy time ensues after that, possibly ending with smut/slight breeding kink? Or just possesive smut 😅😂.

A/N: Thank you so much for this request I loved writing it! There really needs to be more Zemo fics, hopefully the next episodes don’t ruin him! This is also like my second time writing smut so i’m sorry if it’s not the best!

The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest - Helmut Zemo x Reader 18+

Warnings: Smut, breeding kink, tiny bit of choking, alcohol consumption, possessive behavior, dom! Zemo, sub! reader, light degradation, biting

Translations: Hase (Bunny/Hare), Mein schatz (my sweetheart), Liebling (darling)

Word count: 1848

REQUESTS OPEN

Y/n didn’t like Zemo. Y/n abhorred Zemo and everything he did. She hated his smug face, his head tilt, his stupid jacket that only had fur around the collar. Y/n despised Zemo, yet she couldn’t help the thoughts that creeped into her mind at night of his warm gloved hands roaming her body and his accented voice whispering what he would do to her in her ear. Those thoughts made her find Zemo even more insufferable than she already had.

Y/n could feel the bass throughout her body as she stood at the edge of the club, nursing a drink while she swayed softly to the beat. Stuff like this wasn’t her scene, she preferred the quiet warmth of curling up by a fireplace with a cup of tea, no sound but her own thoughts. Here, everything was practically screaming at her, it was almost overstimulating, but she stayed, not wanting to miss anything that could go down.

She almost decided to change her mind and abandon the godforsaken mission  when Zemo appeared at her side, doing an awkward little dance. Y/n watched him incredulously for a few moments, taking a sip of her overly sweet drink as she pictured all the ways she could punch him so he would stop dancing like that.

“Y/n could you not look at me with such hatred for one night?” Asked Zemo, his accented voice only just rising above the music. 

“That’s a lot to ask of a girl Zemo.” Y/n replied with disinterest, wanting this conversation to be over so she could go back to standing silently alone.

“Our disguise depends on us being friendly, well, friendly is too weak of a word. Will you cooperate or would you like to blow this whole operation?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he bore into Y/n’s eyes.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system, or maybe he was playing mind tricks, but as Y/n looked back into his eyes she could feel a warm feeling in her chest. Y/n held his gaze for a few moments before relenting, reluctantly realizing he had a point. With a sigh she held out her hand to the man. 

“I’m not a good actress Zemo, you better sweep me off my feet,” Y/n huffed, downing the rest of her drink and placing it on the table nearby. Zemo gave her a mischievous smile before pulling her into the crowd of people.

“Call me Helmut, it’s more natural.” He told her, his gloved hand resting on her waist and holding her close as he began to move his body to the upbeat music. Y/n followed his lead, her mind racing as she couldn’t remove her thoughts from the close proximity of them. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as her chest was shoved into his as someone pushed past her. If their closeness affected Zemo he didn’t show it as he continued to dance, moving his arm in a weird way.

“Ze- Helmut stop that, god you’re horrible at this. Your bad dancing is just going to bring more attention to us.” Y/n groaned, grabbing his arm and holding it still.

Zemo looked at her with a scoff. “You don’t seem like much of a dancer liebling, how do you suppose I should dance?”

Y/n knew her options were limited, and she cursed herself for speaking out on Zemo’s dancing. She had backed herself into the corner, and there was only one way out. Y/n spun around, her back flush against Zemo’s chest as she began to sway her hips to the beat. A groan sounded from behind her, so quiet Y/n wouldn’t have thought it to be real if not for the hot breath on her neck that came with it. 

She ignored the blush of her cheeks and the wetness she felt pooling between her thighs as Zemo managed to pull her even closer, his hips rubbing against her backside with controlled smooth movements. Y/n tried to tell herself she was getting no pleasure from this, but as she felt his bulge harden against her, it was hard to ignore the desire she felt for the Sokovian man.

She spun around to face him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, feeling too ashamed to have her face revealed to the world while she desired to be fucked thoroughly by the man who had destroyed the Avengers. In a way that turned her on even more, the sheer power the man possessed. She let out a small mewl into his neck as that thought, trying to focus on dancing instead of her desire and Zemo’s hand tortuously creeping to her ass.

“You feel it too, Y/n. The desire.” The Baron mumbled to the girl who tucked herself into his chest. 

“I can’t- I hate you…” Y/n replied, more trying to convince herself of it than him as she pulled away.

“Mein schatz, it’s the forbidden fruit that always tastes the sweetest.” Zemo whispered into her ear, pressing a small kiss right below her earlobe.

Y/n couldn’t handle it, she was soaked and desperate for his touch. Y/n grabbed at the fabric of his sweater, pulling herself into him. “Fuck me then, Helmut.” She muttered, looking up at him. Y/n hadn’t seen Zemo move so fast, his hand resting on her lower back as he quickly ushered her to a spare room and swiftly locked the door behind them. 

“Hase, you can back out of this any time, although I’ll be sad to see you leave. Oh God how I’ve wanted you on my cock since I first saw you.” Zemo spoke as he pinned Y/n to the wall, his thigh positioned between her legs, Y/n began to desperately grind against it. His accent came out more as he grew more aroused.

“Shut up Zemo, you running your mouth will ruin this.” Y/n tried to be intimidating, but as she pathetically grinded on his thigh she didn’t do a good job of it.

Zemo let out a chuckle, his hand gently yet sternly holding Y/n’s throat “Learn your place hase, and this will go well for the both of us.”

Y/n looked at his arm and back to his eyes, biting her lip. The lightheaded feeling she felt from being choked seemed to amplify her other senses, especially her need for him. With a small nod she agreed to stay in line.

The Baron smiled, letting go of her throat and shoving her to the bed, crawling on top of her, his gloved hand trailing painstakingly slow up her thigh, hooking a finger around the waistband of her panties and pulling them off. Y/n began to undress him as well, the two stripping each other of their clothes until they were both naked. Y/n pumped his thick cock with one hand, staring up at him with eyes full of desire. For now she had shoved her inhibitions to the back of her mind, not wanting to acknowledge them. Right now all that mattered was Zemo and the pleasure he could bring her. 

“Helmut, Baron, please I need you in me.” Y/n looked up at him with pleading eyes, the arousal she felt almost too much to bear. Zemo looked down at her with a small grin, positioning himself over her. She was caged in by his arms, his cock slightly pushing at her entrance. 

“Do you want me to fill you? Do you want your baron’s cum to fill up your needy little cunt? Dirty girl.” He chuckled as she squirmed at his words, her cheeks flushing with the embarrassment of what she wanted being so obvious he had said it out loud.

Y/n nodded below him, biting down on her lip as Zemo shoved himself into her with one quick thrust. She gripped at the sheets below her as he filled her, a long moan slipping its way past her lips. When Zemo had begun to pull out she let out a little whine, only to soon let out a yelp as he harshly shoved himself in. He continued his deep rough thrusts at a fast pace making Y/n unable to form any thoughts, only a string of moans escaping her.

“Baron, god, fuck, you fill me up so well.” she struggled to get the words out through her moans. Zemo seemed to like her inability to speak well, his cocky grin never leaving his face as he pounded into her, his grunts like music to Y/n’s ears. It was then she realized she was under Zemo’s thumb, she would do anything to experience this moment again and again, but oddly enough there was nowhere else she would rather be.

“You’re so insufferable, but right now, like this, you’re nothing but mein little hase. My little fucktoy, all mine.” Baron groaned out, leaning down from his position above her to bite her neck. Y/n knew it would leave a mark, she could feel a trickle of blood roll down to her collarbone, but she didn’t have the ability to care about anything but Zemo. “Tell me you’re mine, Hase. Who do you belong to? Who owns you, liebling?”

“You do Baron, I belong to you, you own me!” Y/n squealed out as she felt a tightening in her stomach, knowing her orgasm was close. Zemo seemed to know too as he reached down a hand and began to rub her clit just roughly enough as he pounded into her harder, causing her to drool a little from the pleasure she was receiving,

“Cum for me little hase, cum for me and I’ll fill you up with my cum. I’ll breed you like the little whore you are” He commanded with a growl. Y/n arched her back as she let out a loud moan, feeling the pleasurable release of her orgasm. She was panting as Zemo gripped her hips roughly and held her still as he spilled his warm cum into her. Y/n could feel the white liquid spill out of her once he pulled out. She didn’t care about how much of a mess she was, her brain was still fuzzy from her orgasm and the wild pleasure she had received from Zemo. 

Zemo had gotten mostly dressed, putting on his shirt as he admired his handiwork, seemingly unable to remove his eyes from the sight Y/n on the bed, his mark on her neck, his fingers bruised into her hips, and his cum trickling out of her. He pulled his jacket off his shoulders and laid it on Y/n’s pliant body, allowing her to rest.

“You’re mine hase.” Zemo stood in the doorway of the room, Y/n too fucked out to fully understand what he was saying “And I don’t like to give up what’s mine.” He closed the door gently behind him as he went back to the party.