#because his methods have been questionable so far

[xnightlynyxx]

I know Dan is planning to become the Foxes next coach, but I think Andrew will be her successor or at least an assistant coach

Think about it: he came to South Carolina and immediately started looking out for Aaron and Nicky, and as soon as Kevin and Neil showed up he made promises to protect them too. Andrew already adopts and protects troubled youth. You know who else adopts and protects troubled youth? Wymack. In this essay I will-

[arhvste]

“this is killing me.” kuroo mumbled as he tossed his phone to his side. “just trust me bro,” his best friend-turned roommate bokuto grinned. “this works everytime for me i swear!”

kuroo sighed before grabbing phone again to refresh his instagram story views once more. several people had already viewed the post-gym mirror selfie he’d taken in attempts to garner attention from one particular follower of his; you. “maybe it’s too cringe…” he muttered while over analysing the photo that had already gained a couple of likes within the twenty minutes it had already been up for. “nah.” bokuto reassured him and pat his friend on the shoulder. “you look sexy.” kuroo stared back at the two-toned haired boy. “… thanks bro.”

this isn’t something kuroo would typically post but times were tough and he was desperate. he’d seen you around campus but luck was not on his side when it came to scheduling and the two of you barely had class time together. yet the little class time you did share, kuroo hung onto it tightly and would let scenes of these weekly one hour classes replay in his head more often than he’d like to admit.

“i feel like a modern jay gatsby,” the ex volleyball captain huffed. “my selfie is the equivalent of the wild parties he’d throw in hopes to get daisy’s attention except i don’t want to post every night, i’ve already made myself cringe with this one post.” bokuto stared back at his friend blankly. “yeah… whatever that means.” kuroo frowned back “it’s a classic, you should know what i mean!”

how much longer was he going to have to wait? bokuto had promised him quick results with this method and so far he’d felt deceived and lied to. if talking to you when he got the chance wasn’t enough to get a conversation going outside the classroom, then social media seemed like the next best attempt to start interacting more.

what were you doing? why weren’t you viewing his story? could you even see his story? did he accidentally block you?

these questions ran through his mind as he quickly rushed to check to make sure he hadn’t for some reason blocked you from seeing his story. he half wished he did because then at least he’d know what on earth was taking you so damn long to see the photo he was increasingly starting to hate more the longer it was posted.

“this is stupid.” he stated as he faced bokuto who had zero concerns in his method in gaining someone’s attention. “it works you just have to wait, trust me.”

kuroo frowned as the little red hearts of others who weren’t you fluttered from the bottom corner of the photo. “look!” his best friend grinned as he leaned over kuroo’s shoulder and pointed to the screen of his phone. “you’re getting likes on it!”

“what’s the point if they’re not likes from the person i posted this for in the first place.” kuroo grumbled back in response. he couldn’t believe he’d been subjected to such an attempt to gain some attention from you. it was ridiculous.

it had been about forty five minutes since he’d posted it and he was slowly losing his mind. sure, the post was going to be up for twenty four hours (if he didn’t give into the voices in his head telling him to delete it) so forty five minutes was nothing, but the minutes were beginning to feel like hours and he was dying inside. why weren’t you viewing it already and what could possibly be keeping you off your phone right now?

“this is stupid.” he decided as notifications from his old team mates started to flash up on his screen. the last thing he needed was lev replying with ‘looksmaxing’ to a post that was secretly dedicated to you. “no, it’s barely been up!” bokuto whined. “you look hot so you should get some replies anyway what’s the big deal?”

pinching the bridge of his nose, kuroo huffed. “the big deal is the person i posted this for hasn’t replied!” what was the point in making sure to go to the gym during a rest day just to take this photo if he wasn’t going to at least make his existence more known to you? he’d even worked his legs enough to the point of managing to achieve the sweaty but sexy look. the muscles in his legs were dying, but his dignity sure as hell wouldn’t.

the college student opened up his phone with the intention to end the mental war inside his head once and for all by deleting the post altogether. bokuto watched his friend in defeat but his eyes flashed. “yes they did!” he yelled and pointed to the screen as your name flashed at the top of his screen.

kuroo’s heart jumped at the sight of your profile picture he’d made a daily routine of staring at and the now blue dot indicating a message from your profile in his inbox. to think he was going to delete this post just a second too, what were the chances?

psyching himself up, kuroo took a few quiet deep breathes before letting the time next to your message pass for a few minutes. he wasn’t an instagram warrior by any means, but he knew enough about general rules in order to not look desperate online.

bokuto watched over his friends shoulders as the two stared in anticipation awaiting the message kuroo had been dying for. this was it. leg day two times in a row was gruelling and he’d regret it for the next few days but it would have been worth it. the countless messages from his old teammates mocking his attempts at a thirst trap could be looked past now that you had finally given into the bait he’d so carefully laid. this is what he’d been waiting for. days of preparing and deciding how to gain your attention had finally paid off and he was about to reap the rewards he’d sown.

clicking the message with baited breath, his heart raced as bokuto’s grip of his shoulder tightened. finally.

‘the label on your shirt is sticking out, make sure to cut it’

“a wins a win.” bokuto filled the silence between the pair as kuroo stared at his phone with a blank expression. “… a wins a win…”

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[kuuhaiyu]

surgery needed for 7 year old boy in gaza

i'm making this post on behalf of @its2shimaa. in short, she's been taking care of her sister's 7-year-old son who was orphaned during the war.

shimaa's nephew was diagnosed with cholecystitis and needs surgery to have the gallstones removed from his digestive system.

for this surgery, shimaa only needs to raise $400.

in shimaa's own words:

My friends on Tumblr yesterday I posted that my brother needs surgery for the stones in his intestines and until this moment I have not been able to obtain the costs of the surgery, knowing that the surgery will be performed by a private doctor because there are no hospitals in Gaza. The occupation has destroyed it. The surgery is expensive and every day my brother goes away, he suffers more. I swear to you that there is no type of painkiller in the Gaza Strip that relieves the pain of a patient. Please, please, look at the medical report and test your humanity for the sake of my brother. Donate to him so that he can undergo the surgery. Donate and as soon as he undergoes the surgery, I will guarantee everything for credibility. I implore you all not to marginalize my brother. He has the right to live like the rest of the children in the world. May you always be with love and kindness.

if you can, please donate or commission me via p@yp4l at kuuhaiyu@gmail.com !

money collected through p4yp/l can be transferred to shimaa more quickly, more directly, and with far fewer fees than through her gofundme. i have already used this method to send money to support shimaa before and will post proof of donation as soon as it is available.

alternatively, you can donate to shimaa's gofundme or contact her via her tumblr or WhatsApp at +970 567 114 032 with any questions you have.

last of all, please reblog and share! this was how we were able to raise funds for shimaa and her family to obtain shelter last time. your reblog matters more than you think.

thank you to everyone for your continuous support!

[pearlywritings]

Surprisingly

synopsis: for the public eye, the head of the Oak Family and his wife are a loving couple. In private they are astonishingly content with each other too.

pairing: Sunday x fem!reader

tw: fluff, arranged marriage, reader is halovian, established some time before the game quest on Penacony.

word count: 2.8k+ words

Nothing supports the man’s prestige and public image more than a proper marriage with a proper woman. So, I want you to meet this very woman, my child…

Two months, fifteen days and one hour. That’s exactly how long ago Sunday became a husband. A role he didn’t imagine himself playing, not with the role assigned to him from above. But, it was Gopher Wood - his adoptive parent basically, who brought you to him and announced his grand plan. And even if the head of the Oak Family had his doubts initially, a thorough conversation held with and without the Dreammaster, plus your immaculate background and some more specific matters proved to him that you were indeed chosen rightfully. He wasn’t sure if it was Mr Wood’s way of helping him, offering you as an aid at handling some of the work-related matters but with the seemingly perfect image of being wed - the elder gave no answers, however Sunday knew better than to question some of his schemes.

And so, your union was sealed. The ceremony wasn’t something exceptionally huge, none of you wanted that, but it was public enough for everyone and their mother to be talking about it. A couple of perfectly sterile interviews, some joint photos and three or four public appearances together, and people have been fooled enough to believe that.

That was enough.

Something as shocking as a wedding would avert the public eye and serve a great purpose in deceiving the people. After all, newlyweds are far too busy for one of them to be plotting something, right?

Right. So right, that Sunday himself was in a somewhat daze for the first week. But it’s understandable - on top of his regular responsibilities he had to prepare for the wedding and get to know the person he was about to spend life with better. Surprisingly, you turned out to be very understanding and supporting from day one, actively participating in whatever additional activity served on the man’s plate. It was weird, new and confusing, but above all he caught himself considering it not unwelcome.

You are astonishingly easy to work with. Well-versed in the matters of Family (but he shouldn't be all too surprised, given who brought you to him), soft, yet - when needed - firm spoken, not afraid to face the crowd in your husband's place for a public announcement and taking a portion of his responsibilities without any questions asked. If not for your interactions outside of all of that, Sunday would've thought you were his secretary and not a wife (but even a secretary wouldn't have known as much as you are aware of).

You are…comfortable. Sunday should really reproach himself for giving in so quickly, but it’s so hard not to. Maybe his vigilance is lulled with security of his patron’s choice or maybe it’s his own longing for normal civil interaction with someone close, but it didn’t take much time to start entertaining your sparks of curiosity.

Oh, how curious you are. Despite being trapped in a loveless marriage, you’ve been willing to learn about him from day one, trying to unfurl at least one tiny secret of his every day. He knows that because you are methodical, because you write it down (and you don’t hide the fact - when he, alarmed, asked or rather demanded you to show him that little notepad of yours, you just did so, with an explanation of your reasoning.)

Speaking of getting to know each other better… It’s still half an hour before your recently established tea time, but… But maybe he could summon you earlier? 

I hope, my child, this woman will become your reprieve. You are not obligated to love her, see her as just a companion, but feel free to treat her as a continuation of yourself. I educated her to match you specifically, after all.

As a continuation of himself… Isn’t it cruel to speak such things of a sentient being? Isn’t it putting one into the position of submission? 

Somehow it feels bitter on the tongue when he thinks of you.

His hand reaches for the bell, but promptly stops before the fingertips can touch the polished metal. Ah, of course, he asked to not be disturbed today. So, let him not violate his own order. He can find you on his own, not to mention, a small walk around the building might help clearing up his mind. Lately, he’s been thinking too much.

Spacious halls of the Dewlight Pavilion are empty, he knows as much, yet he hopes he won’t have to roam for too long, as the gloved hands push the doors of the meeting room. Today you two decided to work from the main Family residence in need of some materials here, and since no congregations were scheduled for the day, the building was all yours.

Each step of his is muffled by the carpet, lining the exactly 39 stairs, every next one lifting some of the weight from his shoulders and smoothing the deep frown of light gray brows. When his heels click on the small podium with the additional three steps, Sunday feels like his head is cleared. 

Stepping on the carpet again, he finally ends up in the big hall with the 5 Lineages symbols and a big City Sandpit in the middle. Quickly fishing his phone out of the pocket, he swiftly unlocks the screen and finds your name in the recent calls, dialing it.

When did it happen that conversations with you outnumbered ones with his sister?

You pick up the phone after just two seconds.

“Hello? What is it, Sunday?”

Ah, straight to the point, he admires that. And the calmness of your tone is surprisingly grounding.

“I was wondering if you’d join me earlier,” he speaks softly, barely holding off from calling you ‘dear’. It’s not wrong for the spouses, but how would you react? He asks strange questions lately. “Tell me where you are, I’ll come fetch you.”

“To answer your first question, I’d love to,” the young man might lie to himself, but he swears he heard your voice sweeten just a little. It makes the little wings behind his ears flutter, which he is quick to still. “As for your second one, however, you might want to look down.”

Sunday follows your instruction without much thought, looking right at the red carpet covering the marble floor.

“...I don’t believe I understand.”

He hears you chuckle, a tinkling sound, lacking any malice. His left wing slightly jerks as the favorable noise fills his left ear through the phone.

“The City Sandpit, beautiful. I am not far from the origami birds’ nest.”

As he moves to round the table, your husband’s heart skips a beat. You called him beautiful, you have done so on multiple occasions already. You praised his intellect, you gently clapped for the perfect choice of the clothes for the day he made, you agreed with him on the most mundane things incorporated into your daily lives. And not once it felt forced or fake. You were surprisingly sincere with him - he would’ve thought that with the Dreammaster’s upbringing you’d have been all mastered flashy smiles and sickly sweet polished words.

But here you’ve been, admiring him in your own quite blunt kind of way.

He immediately spots your tiny figure among the fake buildings on the city’s layout. You are waving at him with a smile.

“Found me,” he hears again in the speaker, but now also from you as well.

“Found you,” Sunday echoes, reaching his free hand to you. When he curls his fingers, you understand and, clutching the strap of the bag hanging from your shoulder, carefully climb onto his open palm.

Your husband is careful, finishing the call and putting the phone aside, before cupping the other hand under the one holding your sitting figure. Bringing you closer to his eyes he can see all the little details on the pretty pale blue dress you left home in this morning, with your second pair of clipped wings wrapped around the waist like another skirt. Then his gaze skims along your neck, adorned in one of the pendants he gifted you and then up to the first pair of wings, bigger than his when you are your normal size. 

He doesn’t have an opportunity to marvel over your intricate halo, because your eyes capture his in a vice, looking at him inquiringly.

“Didn’t expect you to take a break earlier. I thought you liked to stick to your routine.”

This was probably the first thing you learned about your back then betrothed.

“I do,” a tiny smile adorns his pale lips, “however, today I managed to wrap the most attention-requiring matters up earlier. Now only the mundane cases are left.”

“Good to hear that,” you hum, swinging your stocking-clad legs a little. His golden eyes look over your form once more, capturing the image of surprising comfortability in the hands of a bigger being, one that could crash your body so easily at the moment.

“I do wonder however about the reason behind your current predicament,” the male tilts his head in an inquiring way. “I believe I’ve never seen you enter the City Sandpit.”

Well, not to count the very first time he was giving you a tour.

“Oh, as I said, I know your routine, so I usually leave it before our meetings. I actually enter it quite often when we stay here,” is your answer that makes Sunday’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Pardon?”

“It’s easier to do paperwork this way,” motioning to the bag still on your shoulder, you then huff in annoyance. “If only you knew how eager your subordinates to bother me whenever you are unavailable. I am well-informed of my seeming position as the “lady-of-the-house”, but I’ve never signed up to be a link element between you and them, let alone a pawn in someone’s game of becoming first to seek your favor. Pardon me for my straightforwardness, but I much prefer interactions without actual feedback from the interlocutor if the situation doesn’t require otherwise. Except for you, of course.”

Except for him.

“You are my equal. You can always order them not to bother you,” drawing his hands closer to the chest, Sunday turns and starts walking closer to the table’s side where the gates are located.

“As if,” he glances down and catches just the end of your eye roll. “Mister Wood would have had my head if I ruined your picture as little as being distant from your inner circle. I’d much rather prefer just to hide away when needed and return to my secondary duties once I’m done with the primary.”

With the Dreammaker’s upbringing you would think a person can’t be as open-minded. Sunday is sure that it was no different from his - after all you have the clipped wings to match his. But, it seems, you found a way to temporarily escape from the suffocating clutches. Today he learnt a new thing about you, and, surprisingly it warms his soul instead of feeling repulsed.

He carefully puts you down just in front of the gates from the city’s side. Almost knocking off  a little ”DO NOT TOUCH” card near it, your husband moves to the right to let you step out. And in a couple of seconds of blinding light you stand before him in all your tall glory.

“Thank you for making the trip across the city so much shorter,” you grin, shaking the bag’s strap down your shoulder and rolling it, before unwrapping the wings from around your waist and spreading them in a stretch.

“It was my pleasure,” his tone is even, yet the gaze with which he watches you move gives him out. To this day and probably for a long while the levels of intimacy that used to be unknown to him yet which you display are going to surprise him. Sunday almost feels an annoying twinge of upsetness when you rewrap your wings around the dress’s skirt. Though it lets him see a couple of ruffled feathers and he has to suppress the urge of his hand to reach and fix them for you.

Yes, there is some intimacy between you lately, but not close enough.

“If you give me a moment to drop off my papers, I’ll be swift in joining you,” your voice breaks the man out of his self-restraining thoughts, and he lifts his eyes from your waist back to your face.

“Ah, it won’t be necessary. I’d like to have our tea time back at the meeting room, I have some things to discuss with you.”

“So official,” you smile, taking a step to join his side. “Alright then, let us be on our way up. Would you like to fill me in on the agenda of our ‘meeting’?”

“Sure,” Sunday chooses to ignore your teasing, but habitually offers you his elbow to hook your arm in it. “My sister is going to visit soon and she seems to be quite pissed at me.”

“Miss Robin?” Your question is laced with puzzlement. “I assumed from your stories of her that she is hardly in a sour mood.”

“It is true, yes,” your husband sighs, leading you up the first set of stairs. “But I would’ve been mad too if my sibling had gotten married and I did not know a thing.”

“She does not know about us?”

The man nearly halts in his ascending. If he didn’t know better and where your thoughts and loyalties stood in this marriage, he would’ve believed you are offended that he kept such an important fact a secret from his only family member. Nevertheless, he continues his walking.

“I sent her an invitation, you know that. But it seems the planet she’s been on is pretty far away and she’s gotten my message only recently, on her way back. I loathe to admit it, but now I feel very bad and the situation itself is iunjust. I am aware we were in a rush, all because of the- you know why,” he sees you nod from the corner of his eye and feels your fingers carefully dig into his arm, “but Robin has always wanted to be a maid of honor at my wedding. And I ripped this opportunity from her.”

And I am not going to get married the second time. This he did not voice out loud.

For a moment you both fall silent. You get lost in thought, Sunday does so too, analyzing his own words, wondering if this speech of his was too personal, if it was painting him as weak in your eyes.

And his own.

You speak only when he reaches for the knob and twists in to swing the door open and lead you two inside.

“So, how much time do we have before she gets here?”

“Maybe a couple of days,” he breaks the lock of your arms and gets a hold on the strap, sliding the bag down your shoulder and turning to put it aside for the time being. “Why asking?”

“You are a good brother, I can see that, “ ah, here you are, praising him again. “And it’s obvious you care for your sister and wish to give her the world. I suggest organizing a small party for her. This way she could experience what she missed and get familiar enough with me. I can negotiate with Mister Wood, I am sure I can convince him - he has some sort of a soft spot for you, Sunday.”

Surprisingly, it twists something uncomfortable in the halovian’s stomach.

“It sounds… delightful. However, are you certain you’d like to go to such lengths for Robin?”

“Well, she is your sister,” you chose the table farthest from the one your husband has been working at and grab the back of the chair to move it so you could sit, “and I am your wife. I’d love her to believe in us too. If I am not overstepping, of course.”

That’s actually not a bad idea. If almost four months ago someone - even you - suggested he let his sister and future wife meet, he’d be hesitant. He knows his little sister, he knows how perceptive she is - he is not so sure he wouldn’t have cracked under her inquisitive questions about whether he was happy with the arrangement or not. Plus leaving her sad and aching for brother if he let her know of the unjustness of the situation and still chose to proceed with the wedding is just too much for him.

Now he, at least, will not be lying that he is content if being asked.

“I accept your offer and thank you profusely for it,” Sunday slightly bows his head, to which you shake yours, reaching your hand out to beckon him to join you.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll have time to thank me later, once we’ve already done something, alright?”

Surprisingly… It is indeed alright.

[harrysonlylover]

Red Line*

Summary: Agent Harry doesn’t hold back when he sees his girl flirting with another agent.

Trope: Agent! Harry

Warnings: Mean & dom Harry, oral, hair pulling, choking.

WC: 4k

Previous oneshot

A/n: The timeline of this oneshot is before At All Costs.

Harry has been acting weird lately.

Y/n wants to believe that it’s a coincidence, or that he’s just delighting in his position as a superior, but she knows deep down that there’s more to it.

His attitude towards her keeps changing, he’s either completely stern or completely soft. The latter is more confusing for her given his persona. It’s even more concerning when it’s shown in front of other agents.

The only logical reasoning would be the physical relationship that they have. They hook up when he approaches her (which has been increasing lately). But getting on his nerves is her favorite activity, so sometimes she barges into his office or room and initiates the first move. Of course, she does that because he specifies that sex will happen only when he says so. Though his plan doesn’t seem to work as he obliges to her wishes every single time and fucks her into the next training.

It started almost six months ago when he had it with her during an important training. She talked back at him in front of relevant agents from a different country. He commanded her to leave and wait in his office where he was going to issue a punishment for her. That went completely sideways when the verbal discipline he wanted to perform turned into degradation as they screwed each other’s brains.

They never actually agreed to a certain timing, Harry would simply show up and knock the air out of her lungs with a hungry kiss. He’s someone who likes order in both his personal and professional life, Y/n disobedience rendered him attractive to him in an odd way.

The nice outcome was the raw and dirty sex they had. The only orders she obeyed were the ones he gave her behind closed doors.

It isn’t exactly an ideal position because intimate relationships are not to be found in the workplace; especially in this dangerous field. That wasn’t supposed to be an issue since it was common knowledge that they hated each other’s guts.

But did they?

Harry’s weird behavior did not go unnoticed by Y/n, maybe it’s just their chemistry increasing but at this point, she can’t figure out anything. Lying to herself won’t benefit her; she likes him and she really shouldn’t but it’s already too late.

He isn’t a casual kisser but that changed recently. He attaches his mouth to hers the entire time as if they got glued somehow.

He developed the habit of resting his lips against her forehead during missionary, leaving a subtle kiss that she didn’t even catch up on until a while after.

Despite the sexual energy they shared, the stolen glances and lingering touches, by far his lips subtly brushing against her face was the closest form of obedience he had ever experienced.

Their bodies worked together in sync. A kiss here, a kiss there. Warmth here and warmth there.

They despised each other outside of the bedroom, Harry can’t handle someone who questions his authority and Y/n is exactly that.

She messes with his perspective about everything he has been taught, his morals, his personality, and his methods of training. Whenever they’re found in the same room together, know that some snarky comments will be thrown.

He hadn’t seen her in two days. It’s normal to go a while without seeing a colleague or an agent as everyone’s missions can vary. He lived his life normally without seeing lifelong friends for months, unaware of their safety and whereabouts. But the moment the clock turns 8 in the morning, he’s up on his feet strolling to Agent Marks’ office. All agents that he bumps into either move out of his way after greeting him or quickly hide inside a room.

And that is Harry Styles.

“Marks where is Miss Y/n?” Harry practically barged into the office making the agent in front of him jump on his feet in a matter of seconds.

“Morning S-ir” He stuttered in shock at the sudden entrance before processing what Harry asked him and turning his attention to the computer where he typed Y/n’s name as Harry gave him a cold stare.

“It looks like she’s scheduled to return today.” He answers Harry whose face shows a hint of relief upon hearing the information.

He walked out of the office without any other word and headed straight to the spacious gym where other agents were training as well. This time no one halted their movements or walked away, only because everyone wanted to admire his stamina while working out.

All agents were well trained and monitored, just because Harry radiated authority does not mean others were lower than him. He’s a well-respected man.

The attention in the room turned to him as he covered his hands in boxing gloves and began punching the bag in front of him.

Watching him exercise was similar to indulging in a movie about a ruthless athlete. He punched it nonstop as sweat dripped down his forehead until it ultimately covered his pump chest.

His stamina was otherworldly. He didn’t reach this position for nothing. While everyone admired him and secretly wished they could mimic his moves, Harry’s mind was somewhere else.

He couldn’t stop thinking about a certain girl and her safety. He’s not sure which is irritating him more; the fact that he’s unaware of her situation or why he’s so concerned with her.

His punches were coordinated yet extremely intense. His biceps flexed with every move and his abs contracted under the dim light of the gym.

He released every emotion that he couldn’t decipher into that punching bag. He didn’t realize how far he went until his friend Zayn stood in front of him and caught the punching bag in his arms.

“Mate it’s gonna fall off the hook.” He warned him, catching his eyes in a concerned stare.

Harry looked around him only to be met with the sight of an empty gym and a clock that was striking at 1 in the afternoon.

He’s been here for three hours?

He walked slowly to the nearest wall where he rested his back before sitting on the ground.

He lost track of time as his mind was conquered by Y/n. He shouldn’t be thinking about her or anything that’s related to her. And definitely not about the mole on her left hip and the softness of her—

“Are you okay?” Zayn rescued him from his merciless brain. Harry’s chest heaved as he closed his eyes to gain a moment of calmness that he rarely ever enjoys.

The bruises on his knuckles that were healing are now visible again and he can’t help but remember how Y/n expressed worry over them.

Does she care about him?

Is she thinking about him?

“I’m fine.” He replied to Zayn to avoid further questioning. He’s aware that his friend can get worried sometimes but Harry is a closed book. There is no need to confide anyone in.

He walked away after catching his breath, leaving Zayn standing in the middle of the room with unanswered questions.

A cold shower will always soothe Harry right after exercising, but especially when he’s losing control of his thoughts.

As the icy water engulfed his skin in a pleasurable sting, he rubbed his face and eyes to avoid the sinful images that were flooding his mind.

Although he shouldn’t, he realized that he never fucked Y/n in the shower. It didn’t take long for him to harden at the mere thought of their skin together under the water.

He can even imagine the way she’d rest her head against his body, bite his skin, and let out lustful moans that haunt his daydreams.

He is fucked.

“Fuck’s sake.” He tilts his head backward, allowing the cold water to drip down his toned body reaching his erect cock, earning a hiss from him.

He could fuck anyone right now just to get it out of his system. In fact, he could do that at any given time and yet he always holds back.

The gravitational pull Y/n has on him is insane. He wants her body attached to his at all times.

He showered quickly after muttering under his breath about self-discipline and wrapped a towel around his waist.

His mind was so occupied with Y/n that he forgot all about bringing in clothes with him. He’ll have to step out with only the towel covering his body, but that wasn’t much of an issue as he assumed that the center would be somewhat empty at this hour.

He strolled down the hallway with the towel as a layer for his lower body. The shower helped his nerves to calm down after all the torturous thinking.

He was headed towards his office that he stays in on most nights before hearing muffled voices coming from the gym.

Normally, he wouldn’t give two fucks. He can’t keep up with every single agent and he only interferes if he observes something against the rules.

But the soft voice followed by giggles that his ear can detect from miles away—that is his business.

He dismisses the fact that he’s half-naked as he directs his attention to the gym area where he sees Y/n, still in her field clothes standing next to an agent who is clearly thirsting for her.

“I’m glad that you’re back.” The agent practically had his body glued to Y/n.

“Hmm yeah?” Y/n used her flirtatious tone; the same one that had Harry weak in the knees. He clenched his fists, trying to hold back from using the training he had today to deform the guy’s face. All the stress that the shower took away came back and bubbled through his bloodstream.

“Of course. I missed you and I was wondering if you would like—“ Harry interrupted by pushing the door open with a force, catching them off guard.

“Hello Sir—“

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” His anger was visible and he looked like he was about to get reckless.

“Training sir—“

“Training your flirting methods?! They sure as hell suck.” Harry dripped poison with every word and his body language indicated how furious he was.

Y/n stood unbothered. She was amused even. Harry could easily tell that which pissed him off even more. Her eyes scanned his body the same way she eyes a candy.

The guy was swallowing down his throat, inattentive to the shared glances between Harry and Y/n. All he cared about in the moment was not upsetting his boss, and trying not to appear as a total idiot in front of Y/n.

“Get the fuck away from my face right this instant. Your actions will have a consequence.” Harry’s voice was threatening and devilish as if he enjoyed being this rough with agents. In fact, he lived for the thrill of it.

The agent scurried out of the room as fast as he could to avoid eye contact with Harry who was staring at him with a clenched jaw and bulging eyes.

If he wasn’t angry already, Y/n surely knew how to press his buttons. She casually headed towards the door with an amused grin planted on her face.

“Not so fast Y/n.” He grabbed her arm before she got to pass by him. She rolled her eyes instantly and looked away.

“Who the hell are you rolling your eyes at?” He grabbed her jaw with his hand, forcing her to look up at him.

“Is there anyone else in the room?” She replied in a sassy tone, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him.

His nostrils were flaring and she could almost hear his teeth grinding together. The look he gave her warned her that she was in for it. But obviously, she pressed further.

He glanced subtly behind him to make sure that the hallway was empty before tightening his grip on her arm and dragging her behind him.

“Where are you—“

“I don’t want to hear you talking.” She had really messed up.

When she returned from her mission, she craved nothing more than his body against her. It tormented her on the field, but she was instead met with an agent who was pining after her when she was not even interested.

She flirted back because she saw Harry’s silhouette while the guy was too busy staring at her.

Teasing Harry was her favorite activity. They were not official nor expressed romantic gestures but Y/n was curious to see Harry’s reaction upon seeing her with other men, and that guy was the perfect opportunity for her.

She didn’t have a particular response in mind, maybe just Harry being nonchalant but she certainly did not see this coming.

He guided her to his office where he shut the door behind him with a thud. He released her arm and stood in front of her as he looked down at her with furrowed eyebrows and a clenched jaw.

“What the fuck was that Y/n?” His tone fluctuated between high and low as he cornered her, making her lean against the door while his arms caged her on both sides.

“I don’t know. What was it?” She pretended to be clueless, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth; a move that he adores.

“So now you know nothing about being a slut?” He spat with anger, attempting to avoid the way she was tugging at her lip.

Their bodies were dangerously close, he wanted to bury his face in her neck and give her love bites that she’d have to hide but feel their sting whenever pressed on. Y/n craved sinking herself on his cock and caressing his face as he let out the most beautiful sighs. But Harry’s head was spinning with jealousy and Y/n opened Pandora’s box.

“Are you jealous Harry?” She cooed, placing her hand on his toned chest which was still moist from the shower. His pine shower gel was everywhere.

“It’s sir for you.” He moved her hand away from his body and wrapped it around her throat.

He didn’t want to admit it verbally, but he was about to burn the entire room when he saw her breathing next to a man who wasn’t him. These feelings of possessiveness keep increasing and he can’t fight his urges no matter how disciplined he is.

“I left for two days and you got all cranky.”

“Then you came back and started acting like a whore.” His grip on her throat tightened as he inched his face closer to her.

“We were just chatting.” She rolled her eyes again.

“First of all, you can only roll your eyes when my cock is stretching your pussy…” His face was practically glued to hers as his deep voice sent shivers through her body. His cologne made a complete mess out of her.

“… Second of all, he wants to fuck you and that’s my duty only. Do you understand?” His tone was a mix of possessiveness and softness.

“Yes.” Her brain barely processed left his mouth.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

With Harry towering over her, she took a quick moment to ogle his body. There’s a reason she likes it when he chokes her; other than the tingly feeling she gets when his hand covers her throat—his veins drench her panties.

They extend along his forearm down to his hand that she stares at during training. The more he tightens his grip—the more his biceps flex. His pumped chest and chiseled abs are a bit moist from the shower, and incredibly smooth because he applies a lotion. The towel is low on his waist giving a scandalous display of his toned V line, and an appearance of the ferns tattoo.

The water covering his curls dripped down to her chest then sternum; drop after the other before he lowered his face to catch them with his tongue. It felt warm against her skin—seeing him fresh out of the shower had her lusting for him to fuck her under the water.

His tongue moved against her skin, catching the fallen droplets before reaching her neck where he sucked harshly on her skin.

He pulled away abruptly offering her his devilish grin.

“Kneel.”

He switched back to his authoritative tone, he knows how much she loves being treated like a slut. She acted like one anyway.

“Yes sir.” She gradually went down on her knees, with her hands trailing his body just so she could take the towel off.

His cock stood against his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his tip.

“Don’t think for one second that this is a reward. Your mouth is nothing but a fuck toy.” He grabbed her ponytail in one hand and inserted his finger in her mouth with the other.

She sucked on his thumb, looking up at him with ‘fuck me eyes’ as she shamelessly continued to ogle his muscles. Her view was perfect. His V line and the trimmed hair had her pussy clenching around nothing.

She stuck her tongue out at him daring him to not hold back. She pushes his buttons every time so she can earn what she wants: rough sex and soft aftercare.

“Such an eager slut. Drooling for cock.” He slapped his cock on her face making her try to suck on it.

“Only your cock sir.” She knew that this would get him all worked up.

“Damn right. Only mine Y/n.” He grunted, guiding his cock to her rosy lips. She licked the precum off his sensitive tip earning a hiss from him.

Her tongue worked its way along his shaft with one of her hands cupping his balls. She maintained eye contact with him for the thrill.

Her mouth released scandalous moans to show him that she likes this. Her hand stroked his shaft while her tongue fixated on his tip.

“Sluts don’t get to enjoy pleasure.” He pulled his cock out of her mouth with a pop making her whine.

He spat on his cock before bringing it to her lips again and thrusting it all in one go. She gagged immediately and tried her best to bob her head against it. He slapped her hand away when she tried to touch his length and began thrusting his hips into her mouth.

“Can you hear that? The sound of your pathetic gagging? Way better than your sassy talk.” His voice shook at the end when his cock reached the back of her throat.

He had to balance between tilting his head backward from pleasure and looking down to see her beautiful ruined face.

Her cheeks hollowed around his shaft as he used her mouth. Her gagging had him weak in the knees, not to mention the tears streaming down her face along with her messy hair strands.

“That’s it, little minx. Make your throat ache.” He stroked her head before pushing it against his shaft, holding it for a few seconds, and pulling out.

She coughed heavily; trying to catch her breath as precum and saliva dripped down from her mouth to her chest.

“Aw, would you look at that?” He swiped his fingers along her mouth, catching their mixed juices together just so he could lick it.

“Whose cum is that hm? Whose cock are you choking on?” He asked with a raspy voice that had her squirming.

“You sir.”

“Hmm like music to my ears.” He took in her puppy eyes and ruined face for a minute or two, before thrusting his cock back in her mouth.

Her tongue felt so fucking warm that he had to restrain himself from cumming. He didn’t lie when he said that her mouth was his fuck toy. His hips rolled forward as he pushed her head on his length back and forth, letting out audible moans.

“This is the only cock you can suck Y/n.” He gritted through his teeth as he fucked her mouth mercilessly.

“When you wake up in the morning with a sore throat, you better keep that in mind.” Her whines were loud through the gagging and choking. Of course, her squirming never fails to make him smirk. She’s sassy until he makes her needy; that’s when sub-Y/n comes out to play.

“Oh poor baby, does your pussy need a cock to fill it?” He slowed down to watch more saliva leak from the corners of her mouth and to hear her beg for a release.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.” He sped up again—on purpose. She dug her nails into his thighs and pushed her head against his cock till her nose bumped his pelvis.

This exact moment altered his brain chemistry—she silently choked on his cock, a tear streaming down her cheek as she whimpered eagerly with puppy eyes.

She lived for this—she wanted him to use her.

He refrained from guiding her anymore as she took the initiative by herself and fucked her mouth.

“So dumb for my cock aren’t you?” He rolled his eyes in ecstasy when she swiped her tongue against his swollen tip.

His length had grown since she first began sucking it due to swelling—but that didn’t stop her from taking it all inside his mouth.

He felt his cock beginning to twitch which she seemed to enjoy. Of course, she’d want his load.

“Time to use your mouth as my cum dump, isn’t that right little minx?”

Her muffled moan and gagging sent him over the edge.

He didn’t hold back and released his load inside her mouth. His moans and curses filled the room as he kept letting out one rope after the other of his warm cum.

Y/n’s mouth overflowed as she eagerly swallowed it while some leaked out of the corner of her mouth.

“Take my cum, little minx.” He panted heavily—prompting his muscles to contract as his hand caressed Y/n’s cheek.

She took his cum every single time without hesitation, the same way he devours her cunt for breakfast.

He pulled out with a hiss—he was still leaking but he didn’t want to pressure her even though he knew she’d want it.

She was trying to lick every drop from the corners of her mouth. Her view was even better now—he looked heavenly with his body just standing there as his cock leaked on her face.

He kneeled to her level and lifted her body off the ground with one arm, before placing her on his desk. He was still experiencing the high of the orgasm—but he wanted to make sure she was okay.

She did not use her safe word and he wonders if she ever will—she likes it way too rough.

He wiped her face with tissues, pressing his lips against her temple like he always does. She rested her head against his shoulder as he stroked her head.

They never discussed his gentleness in the aftercare. It was the bare minimum of course but sometimes he liked to pretend that it was more than that.

It was an excuse to give her love. To tip the universe off its balance.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“This is the last time I wish to see you flirting with another man.” His tone remained neutral, but it was an order. A strict one.

“Don’t want to anyway.” She buried her face in his chest.

Her response caught him off guard. He can’t push away his possessive thoughts for long—but he can’t confess either.

He pulled away momentarily to fetch her a water bottle from his mini fridge. He helped her have some sips before wiping her mouth and kissing it—again.

Her mouth was addictive and damn it was he an addict.

He sticks to a lot of rules in his life—yet her lips feel so forbidden, inviting him into a world free of order.

She was his kryptonite.

His red line that no one would survive crossing.

Kindly reblog if you liked it!!

Taglist: @babegoals @hotnhardrrry @mattiehattuck1

[beenbaanbuun]

seventeen hyung line’s reaction to their youngest member forgetting to take care of themself

choi seungcheol

seungcheol is literally your father (or at least he believes so) so be warned, he will be watching you 24/7

notices the small things, like if your eye bags are particularly dark, and will call you out on it immediately

“how much sleep did you get last night?” he falls onto the couch, occupying the spot next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulders

“uh, like 4 hours, i guess,” you ignore the glare he gives you, “but it’s only because i was practicing late…”

he hums as he uses his hand to push your head onto his shoulder

“that’s not enough, kid,” he mumbles into your hairline, “not nearly enough, actually. how about you nap now?

you consider arguing, but you know it’s useless so you just nod and let yourself get comfy against him

he just sits and scrolls through his phone for an hour or so before rearranging you so you’re not leant on him

cant help himself when he sees you with your cheeks squished up against the pillow and takes a photo

carats will love it when he posts it on weverse…

yoon jeonghan

jeonghan takes care of you without even noticing you’re not taking care of yourself

it’s all part of being his baby the youngest

so you’re far from surprised when he comes into your room one day with a cup of ramen in his hands

he says he’s just come to see what you’re doing, but you cant help but notice that in between his own bites, he’s shoving mouthful after mouthful in your direction

and you barely get to answer his questions because whenever you try to, he just scolds you for talking with your mouthful

“so what did you say you’re doing?” he leans over to you, eyes trained on your computer screen as he holds another mouthful in front of you

you take it and begin to chew

“well, you s-”

“finish your food before you talk,” he scolds, “don’t be gross!”

you just roll your eyes and do as he says

you know there’s no point in arguing

joshua hong

joshua hong can and will make you go outside with him

most of the time he claims it’s because he’s in need of a photographer, but you begin to notice a pattern

oh, you haven’t been out in a few days? you’re practically counting down the seconds until josh is walking through your door with your shoes, ready to go

and don’t worry if you refuse - joshua has his methods

“i’ll tell seungcheol,” he says as he walks into your room, swinging your trainers from his hands.

“oh yeah? what will you tell him?” you pay him no mind, knowing seungcheol won’t care if you haven’t left the house in a few days…

“i’ll tell him all about how you’ve locked yourself in your room and you’re not sleeping or eating enough,” he grins at you, happy with the lies he’s spouting.

you gasp and stand up in shock

“that’s not fair!” you grumble, “you can’t just lie to him!”

joshua laughs and passes you your shoes.

“i can and i will,” he gives you an innocent smile, “now come on, my little photographer! you have a job to do.”

wen junhui

doesn’t necessarily notice you’ve been living off of energy drinks and snack food until hoshi mentions it one day in practice

and sure enough when he looks over he notices you with a monster can in hand and a bag of chips resting between your thighs

and actually, now that he thinks about it, you woke up too late to eat breakfast so this is your first meal of the day

he excuses himself from his conversation to walk over to you and crouch next to you

“is that all you’re eating?” he pulls you out of your daydream and you look at him in confusion, “i mean, you didn’t have breakfast, which you should’ve because cheol told us to eat a lot since we’d be too busy for lunch.”

you frown and look at the bag of chips, which is almost gone, and think about how you should’ve rationed them more

“i take that as a yes,” he frowns, “and don’t get me started on the monster! if minghao sees you drinking that he’ll have an aneurysm. doesn’t he always warn you about keeping yourself healthy?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes and put your drink down on the floor

“i just need the energy,” you complain, “my body feels tired.”

“yeah, because you didn’t eat this morning,” he argues and stands up, holding his hand out to pull you up too, “now, let’s go and beg cheol for a small lunch break, okay?”

kwon soonyoung

he notices the way you trip over during practice and have to stumble through the rest of the dance with a limp

immediately pauses the music once the routine finished and calls you out on it

“take a seat for a while,” he orders, “you cant dance on an injured ankle, and it’ll make it worse if you try to.”

but you insist that you’re fine because you don’t want to slow down practice or make it difficult for the others

there’s a staring match between you and hoshi for a while, but he will not give in

if there’s two things he cares about to the end of the earth, it’s dance and his members and you’re just unlucky that this involves both of them

“go and sit down before i drag you to the bench myself,” god, you hate how scary he gets when he’s teaching choreography, “and don’t test me because i will do it.”

you know he will, so you just bow your head and hobble to the side of the room where the bench is waiting for you

“good,” he mumbles, going back to the stereo that’s waiting for him to press play, “i’ll get someone to grab an ice pack for you, okay?”

jeon wonwoo

he likes to spend quiet time with you which means more often than not, he’s around to take care of you

like he’ll literally be sat playing games on his pc, checking on you out of the corner of his eye every few minutes

if he sees your eyes drooping for even a second, he pauses his game and gives you a soft look

“go to sleep, kiddo,” he instructs softly, smiling a little when you jolt yourself awake, “i can see you dropping to sleep over there. don’t fight it, you probably need it.”

you grimace, taking a deep breath before you sit up properly and rub your eyes

“i’m fine, woo,” you grumble, widening your eyes slightly to try and make yourself feel more awake

he just laughs to himself, shaking his head as if he didn’t believe you

“go to bed, or i’ll take you myself,” you roll your eyes at him, but open your arms wide

“carry me?” you beg as if you’re a kid rather than someone just a few years younger than him

to which he rolls his eyes jokingly and stands up from his desk

“you’re so lucky i love you,” he chuckles

“you love me?” you tease

“yes, even though you’re annoying…”

lee jihoon

he loves you, he really does, but sometimes he’s a little too busy to pay too much attention to the small things

besides, he trusts him members to take care of their maknae well

except the two of you are in the studio, just messing around really

it was your suggestion because you wanted to spend time with him, and he had nothing too important to do so obviously he said yes

you’re spitting absolute bars into the microphone whilst he struggles to hold in his laughter, but half way through he can’t help but notice a strange grumbling behind your voice

he pauses the track he quickly produced just moments prior to you stepping in the booth and your voice peters away

“have you eaten today?” he furrows his brows as he hears it again, “and don’t even think about lying to me, kid.”

you roll your eyes in annoyance

“i had breakfast…”

“it’s midnight,” he deadpans, “you haven’t eaten since breakfast?”

you shrug, not seeing the big issue

“wasn’t hungry, was i…”

he stands up from his desk and shuffled over to the booth’s door, pulling it open immediately

“don’t care, pipsqueak,” his voice is much clearer now he’s speaking directly to you, “let’s go eat. we can carry this on again later and then we won’t have your tummy grumbling in the background, yeah?”

[cordeliawhohung]

In Limbo [Chapter 6]

mafia!141 masterlist | In Limbo masterlist | general masterlist | taglist | playlist

mafia!Simon Riley x fem!Reader

no good deed ever goes unpunished

cw: minor depictions of violence, shady activities, non-con touching/groping, non-con kissing, a lot of hurt, no comfort, playfully shitting on people from Birmingham.

wc: 5k

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right; a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night. 

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth, either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to the club like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall. 

Shady activities in an alleyway. 

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit. 

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body that’s ingrained in his mind. Your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit — too overwhelmed to keep conscious. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps Mrs. Price is to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he could only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you was obvious. Short words, awkward exchanges, yet the impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you were trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door so he couldn’t follow you home. 

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands — as promised — you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you had now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he didn’t look at you while you did it. He would ask you questions and you would respond with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke. 

I’m just… glad you’re not doing it just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that.

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny quips.

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes — one which still carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone — and pushes the thoughts of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give. 

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” Simon playfully retorts. 

“Right,” he replies, rubbing his hands together, “so I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothin’ on the media or anythin’ like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.” 

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?” 

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a smirk. “Come on, Riley, when have I ever wasted your time?” 

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to wind and rewind through footage from a few days ago. Everything happens fast; speedy bodies darting across view, and the comedic speed up of light snow falling on the ground, but not sticking. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps, before it suddenly pauses again. 

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through this video again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…”

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before. 

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s when Johnny pauses the video. 

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shovin’ cash into his pocket like he struck a deal,” he concludes. 

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character. 

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters. 

“He outta. Fucker works here,” Johnny drops. 

A rancid, sour taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense to the point the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught on to the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago. 

“Who is he?” Simon demands. 

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Only twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.”

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts. 

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some more dark than others.” 

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it. 

“He here tonight?” he then asks. 

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head at Simon. “You’re brewing something up in that head of yours. None of it looks too cheerful.” 

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes. 

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit. 

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny spins in his chair to watch him leave. All he can make out are straight set shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood. 

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him, his voice too saccharine to truly mean it. 

There are very rare times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through John’s club. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder, and the mass of pulsing bodies splits for him like the Red Sea. 

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the other night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him.

“Marcel!”

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music, and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. Smart kid. Everyone knows not to mess with Riley. 

He leads the boy out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly questions anything besides an is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Frigid wind attempts to cut through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on Marcel. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security. 

A flickering security light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of the winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until he realizes it was only a pack of cigarettes he was searching for, and not something nefarious. 

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel. 

“You smoke?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers. 

Simon shakes the pack, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips.

“Cheers.” 

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smoothed face kid. Besides, he’s got a Brummie accent, and Simon fucking hates Birmingham. 

“What d’ya do outside of workin’ here?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation — but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette. 

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies. 

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.”

“Smart.” 

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter, the boy can warm up soon enough — Simon intends for this interaction to be quick. 

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?”

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel’s lips. There’s no exhale of smoke, or the embers brightening at the tip to show he’s inhaling; there’s nothing. 

“Bloke?” he repeats. 

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient. 

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing. 

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.”

“And what did he want?” Simon presses. 

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly. 

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears, but it’s impossible to tell if it’s from the cold biting his skin, or the rage boiling through his veins. “What did she look like?” 

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant, but I don’t know which one, I swear.” 

Sapori. Teeth nearly cut through the filter of the cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches, and he rips the thing out of his mouth to toss it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man — this Andrei — is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what else has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly. 

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering. 

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues.

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? Like when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel answers.

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that and sent me on my way.” 

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach as the chips he ate before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the raging storm barreling straight for him.

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads. 

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth. 

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him, and he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound. 

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out, ya hear?” 

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods.

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here again askin’ about it, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod,” Simon continues, and Marcel complies. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?” 

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head. 

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…” 

“Good, and don’t fuckin’ forget that.” 

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter — a shitty attempt at an apology.

“Take a breather, then get back to work,” he orders while he turns to leave, but Simon only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel as his attention is quickly brought back to the boy. “Keep in mind, that’s not even half of what I’ve got.” 

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his late father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too. 

Violent, angry, sinister — his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to fight against. A stereotype he’s been trying to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage. 

Something he can use to help you. 

Except while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of Cat’s Cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from.

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your payment days because you don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. There’s something you’re still missing. 

But you’ve run out of time. 

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver even though you’re already shaking. Marco's cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone — but you’ve learned that you’re never safe, not even when all the cameras in the city are trained on you. 

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands. 

“Long time, no see,” he greets. 

He’s friendlier than he normally is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap up into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it. 

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other night,” Marco then prompts.

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?” 

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. Face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.” 

Images of Andrei’s face from the other night sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone able to put him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. You never do.

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At that club?” Marco then asks. 

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully. 

“You a delivery driver now? Thought you were a waitress,” he digs. 

“Hostess…” you correct. 

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you lie. 

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer, and you try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.”

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric. 

“You know him?” you venture to ask. 

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.” 

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away, like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process. 

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? The man who fought with Andrei?” Marco asks.

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thigh as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist. 

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us. Thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside the VIP entrance during that time. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together. 

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply. 

Something in you wants to press him for an explanation of what he means, but you keep your lips sealed as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed — nothing but faint scars and scabs. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon. 

“Well, it doesn't matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, pet,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mothers phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal to you. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. In fact, you had planned to be hurt in some type of way. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail, and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure if you even accomplished that much. 

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree. 

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month.” 

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision when you open your eyes. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t. You can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.”

You’re crying now, and you hate it. Hate how weak and pathetic you are. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face — he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere, but his eyes are too hungry for it to be real. 

“Look at you,” he shushes. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as his arm keeps steady and firm around your shoulders.“Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.” 

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself. Never really belonged to anyone or anything but him.

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes ten times louder — the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but he only pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake. 

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you now, too afraid to fight back. 

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. Using his thumb, he wipes a stray tear from your face, and you can tell by his slick snicker that he savors the feeling. 

“For that, we’ll drop it down to three fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips — something chaste and quick — before he releases you and stands to his feet. “See you next month, pet.” 

Marco leaves just how he arrived — with a gust of bitter, frigid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything, that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless as the day you were when you first got yourself stuck in this mess. 

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin and look up at the source of the sound. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she’s holding the boy's hand to lead him out of the laundromat. There’s a look of disgust on her face, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure. 

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes after she leaves, wiping your face clean before you brave the cold streets of London to make your way back home. You promise yourself that once you get home, you’ll wash your mouth out with soap, and then call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift for tonight. 

No matter what, you can’t take Marco’s offer — that terrible promise he made you all those years ago. Maybe one day you won’t have a choice, but for now, you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

[metamatar]

Since the early days of British involvement with Zionism, Churchill sanctioned the dispossession of non-Jewish Palestinians by assuring that they have no voice in the affairs of their own land. “In the interests of the Zionist policy,” he stated in August 1921 as the government minister in charge of Britain’s colonies, “all elective institutions have so far been refused to the Arabs.”

A snapshot of Churchill’s stances on Palestine and race is found in the records of the 1937 Peel Commission hearings, convened to address a major revolt in Palestine. [...]

Horace Rumbold [...] asked whether Zionist policy is worth “the lives of our men, and so on.” And did it follow, he asked Churchill, that having “conquered Palestine we can dispose of it as we like?”

Churchill replied to that and similar questions by invoking commitments given when Britain captured Palestine toward the end of 1917. “We decided in the process of conquest of [Palestine] to make certain pledges to the Jews,” Churchill said.

Apparently skeptical, the head of the commission, William Peel, asked Churchill if it is not “a very odd self-government” when “it is only when the Jews are a majority that we can have it.”

Churchill responded with a blunt argument of might: “We have every right to strike hard in support of our authority.”

The historian Reginald Coupland nonetheless told the hearings that the “average Englishman” would wonder why the Arabs were being denied self-government, and why we had “to go on shooting the Arabs down because of keeping his promise to the Jews.”

Peel, similarly, asked Churchill if the British public “might get rather tired and rather inquisitive if every two or three years there was a sort of campaign against the Arabs and we sent out troops and shot them down? They would begin to enquire, ‘Why is it done? What is the fault of these people?… Why are you doing it? In order to get a home for the Jews?’”

“And it would mean rather brutal methods,” added Laurie Hammond, who had worked with the British colonial administration in India. “I do not say the methods of the Italians at Addis Ababa,” referring to Benito Mussolini’s Ethiopian massacre of February 1937, “but it would mean the blowing up of villages and that sort of thing?” The British, he recalled, had blown up part of the Palestinian port city of Jaffa.

Peel agreed, and added that “they blew up a lot of [Palestinian] houses all over the place in order to awe the population. I have seen photographs of these things going up in the air.”

But when Peel questioned whether “it is not only a question of being strong enough,” but of “downing” the Arabs who simply wanted to remain in their own country, Churchill lost patience.

“I do not admit that the dog in the manger has the final right to the manger,” he countered, “even though he may have lain there for a very long time.” He denied that “a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America, or the Black people of Australia,” by their replacement with “a higher grade race.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Zoro is jealous of how impressed you are with another man's strength. A few insults and broken breezeblocks later, he makes sure he's the only man you have eyes on.]

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Roronoa Zoro is a man too busy to boast. He perceives his skills and attributes as a means to an end and not a goal in itself; achieving unmatched swordsmanship is but a method of becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

It's completely useless to waste one's potential only to earn fame and admiration. If one sees their abilities as a goal, they tend to abandon their growth once the goal is achieved, never discovering what they can really do. Therefore, boasting is a manmade border between the current state of things and the wonderful possibilities.

Or so he tells himself.

The crowd cheers again as the blue-haired boy breaks another stack of planks. Each time he adds one more obstacle, the mob of onlookers is sure that this time, he's bound to fail. They've been wrong so far.

Zoro and you have been watching the show from affair but only because you refused to walk away. Sure, on your adventures you have seen people or unimaginable skills and attributes. Nevertheless, the man on the makeshift stage is just that - a man. No Devil Fruit, no canons-for-arms or anything of this sort. Just a person with determination and years of practice.

"Damn, that's some strength," you say in awe. "It's amazing."

Zoro only scoffs, scowling while he stands with his arms crossed. "Come on, this is nothing."

"Oh, right, breaking a stack of five wooden planks with your bare fist is just a regular Tuesday, eh?"

"Definitely not for a twig like him," he answers while still glaring at the boastful plank-breaker. "A gust of wind could break his bones."

Something about his huffing and puffing doesn't sit right with you. After all, why does he care in the first place? Zoro is not the kind of person to be interested in things that are not directly connected to him. It's almost as if...

Is he jealous of the attention?

"You know what, Zoro?" When you turn to look at him, he notices the challenging glint in your eyes. You're up to no good, aren't you? "I'd love to see you try and break even one plank."

He scoffs again but this time he looks almost offended at the implication. "I wouldn't even get out of bed for one."

"That's not a good measure." You shake your head decisively. "It's already hard to make you get up." Then, an idea sparks in your thoughts - something he's sure not to reject. "Let's do it like this. If you can one-up that guy, I'll do whatever you want."

Zoro's brown eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. He seems to be trying to guess how serious you are about your promise. "Anything goes?" he asks suspiciously.

"Nothing that will tarnish my dignity." As a warning, you point your finger at him. "Or dirty my shirt."

Then, to your utmost satisfaction, he gives you a smirk beaming with confidence.

"You're going to regret this."

"I hope so," you answer.

He clenches his jaw at your frivolous tone, his mind racing in a thousand different directions at once. What do you mean you "hope to regret" your wager? What exactly do you think he'll ask of you?

No matter the answers to his questions, Zoro has found a new source of motivation inside him. He can ask anything. As nice as that sounds, and he's sure to let his imagination run amok, the more satisfying prize will be the look of awe you're bound to give him. If you're impressed with this boastful twig of a man, how dazzled will you be with Zoro when he beats him? Maybe you'll finally stop looking at other men like they're actually worth even a second of your time or a speck of your attention.

"Hey, wood boy!" Zoro exclaims at the top of his lungs while making his way through the excited crowd towards the makeshift stage. "Let's see who's stronger."

"A brave challenger appears!" The blue-haired man announces. Whispers erupt among the onlookers. "Or maybe he's stupid?" he directs his question at his fans. Then, when Zoro enters the stage, the man looks at him with a feeling of superiority smeared across his face. "I'll have you know, I'm the local champion."

Up close, the blue-haired man looks even less impressive than from the ground. He's rather scrawny compared to men of similar strength and he could definitely use a long bath. Zoro is almost offended that you'd look at this poser of a clown instead of him.

"Only local?" Zoro asks. He erupts in laughter, making his opponent's expression visibly falter. "Not much of a title. I've seen rocks bigger than this island."

The whispers turn into loud conversations as half of the crowd demands Zoro to take back his words and the other half begs for a showdown to see who's the true master between them.

"Ambitious!" the blue-haired man exclaims with fake casualness, clearly trying to hide his own uneasiness. "That's what I like to see. But I must warn you that breaking wood with the sheer power of your bare fist is neither easy nor simple. Are you sure you can manage?"

Zoro laughs again. His posture only grows with confidence while the other man seems to be becoming smaller with each of Zoro's insults. "Wood is for children."

The blue-haired man swallows nervously. Sweat trickles down his neck. "Alright then." He clasps his hands together, rubbing them to ease the arousing tension. "What do you propose?"

"Breezeblocks."

The crowd audibly gasps and you're not any different. To break something that can render someone unconscious, if not dead, without having to use much strength? Even for someone like Zoro, the suggestion seems more than audacious. True, you wanted to see him prove his bold talk but not break his hands.

But before the blue-haired man can protest or diverge the discussion, a group of eager men bring a load of breezeblocks on stage. Their eyes shine with impatience and desire to see uncommon strength as they take away the wooden boards and set up the first breezeblock for each of them to break. The hollow bricks are placed atop regular, clay bricks that the blue-haired man has used to lay the planks on.

With a light gesture of his hand, Zoro allows the apparent master to begin. The man stretches his arms and cracks his joints. Despite being visibly experienced in this art, there is a noticeable nervousness in his movements, too. As though he's not as confident as he was five minutes ago.

Measuring one or two times beforehand, the local champion slams his fists on the breezeblock. A muffled thud resounds and the crowd falls silent. Then, a loud grunt fills the tense air but not a speck of cement is lifted. The breeze block did not break but considering the agony on the man's face and the deep red of his hand, something surely did break.

Zoro laughs for the third time. Strangely enough, he seems almost suspiciously laid-back. He reaches for the blue-haired man's unbroken breezeblock and places it atop his. If the crowd was silent before, it's deathly quiet now. They don't even dare breathe, awaiting the resolution of this unforeseen wager.

His eyes meet yours and never stray as he punches the stack of breezeblock. They break, fall and crumble on the stagefloor. Zoro doesn't look phased in any way, nor does his hand look to be injured. Judging by his casual attitude, he can easily break a lot more than just two breezeblocks. Maybe one day he'll find out but not at the moment - that's not the point of his little show of strength.

Some people try to accost him or talk to him as he makes his way back to you but Zoro's usual glares and silence quickly mitigate their enthusiasm and soon the mob of onlookers just cheers among themselves.

"Alright, I'm impressed," you admit with a nod. "In capital letters."

"So, anything I want, huh?" He can't help the smile curving his lips. It's a big word that you've used - a little too big for Zoro's imagination because it too happily strayed in directions that might break his heart permanently if you reject him.

"I suppose you do deserve compensation for holding yet another title of a champion. The dreadful weight of success," you say in a dramatic tone. "Now, what is this 'anything' you've decided on?"

Truthfully, he hasn't decided yet. If this "more than friends, less than lovers" situation he has with you was a game of chess, he's just made his opening move. You played back and put him in a place where there are simply too many options to reconsider. So what choice does he have to make to have you in a checkmate?

[mockerycrow]

HELLO the biggest congrats on 4k, you absolutely deserve that and so many more!!!

Could I see a female!reader x Ghost with the prompt:“I had a nightmare . . . can I stay with you tonight?”

TY and yet again, congratulations 🤍🤍🤍

REASSURANCE (Ghost x Fem!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

authors note; thank you so much anon <3 i hope you enjoy!

[WARNINGS; not proofread (like most of my fics), silent panic attack + light dissociation, implied you’ve never seen his face, hurt/comfort.]

You know Ghost has nightmares—everyone knows Ghost has nightmares. No one really wants to talk about it because he doesn’t, but everyone has seen the man up at ungodly hours of the night, or perhaps beating the absolute shit out of a punching bag at the on-base gym.

No one except for Price knows what Ghost’s been through, but no one really questions him. It’s unrealistic to think Ghost is the only one waking up due to their dreams—even Price does on the occasion. What Ghost doesn’t do is ask for help.

You had a weird gut feeling about tonight; you weren’t really restless, but you weren’t tired. Every time you laid down to try to get some sleep, your eyelids would slowly open back up. You tried multiple methods; white noise, thinking about nothing, thinking about a story, taking a sleep remedy—nothing.

You had a weird tightness in your stomach that you couldn’t shake. It’s no big deal, you’ve had several nights like this. Nights where you stay up, half expecting something to happen. You aren’t sure if its the military-esque anxiety flaring up, expecting an attack of some sort or if it’s just one of those nights.

You’re laying in bed, trying to think of what you have to do tomorrow. Might as well try to think of something useful, right? Let’s see, you have to do morning training and then you have to eat, brief with price, it’s your turn to help the armourer—the weapons master, you like to say to piss them off—and you also have to do paperwork.

A very tame evening, you think, avoiding the Q word everyone oh so desperately hates; including yourself. Because the second you say it, you’re going to be called by Laswell, or General Shepherd, or some other CIA federal agent bureaucrat about some fucking thing that’s happening in the god forsaken world that only, and only task force 141 can handle—

—Someone knocks on your door, breaking your disorganized thoughts. Your eyebrows furrow; no one should be up, maybe Price is, or Ghost. Did you forget some paperwork? You sit up, slip your slides on your feet, and you walk to the door. You unlock the door and open it, wincing from the bright light of the hallway pouring in, and you’re met with the large figure of Ghost.

You blink, unsurprised. “Hey.” You utter. “Did I wake you?” God, Ghost sounds rough. It sounds like he garbled glass—er, maybe that isn’t the nicest way to describe one of your superiors voices right now. It’s clear he just woke up. You shake your head in response, stepping aside. “Here, come in. It’s bright.”

Ghost silently obeys, stepping inside of your room. You close the door and head over to your desk. You feel around in the darkness until you feel your lamp and you click a button, turning it on, illuminating the room just enough for you to see Ghost. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants with one of his black, long-sleeve compression tops to go with it.

He’s wearing a basic black balaclava without the iconic skull, but.. His eyes are different. Distant and weary, cautious—panicked almost. Your eyebrows furrow together as his broad shoulders are tense, fists clenched.

“Ghost..” You call softly. He seems far away—he needs your help. “Ghost.” You say more insistently and louder, noticing the way his chest is barely moving. “Ghost, hey, can y’hear me? You need to take a breath..” You murmur, slowly approaching him.

He’s frozen but you see how his eyes flicker towards you, taking a moment realize where he is. You offer a soft smile you always show him and you nod. “There you are, big guy. Can I touch you?” You make sure to ask because you never know; a soldier during a flashback, touching them? That can be fatal—you trust Ghost as you don’t think he would ever hurt you, but you never know a person.

It takes him a moment to nod, which makes you promptly and gently grab his wrists. You gently guide him to your bed, and you sit him down. You’re nervous—you’re about to calm him down in one of the only ways you know how to, but you’re worried about the consequences you’ll receive afterwards. Oh well, you don’t care, not when Ghost’s eyes are as unfocused as they are.

The bed dips under his weight and you gently spread his legs, standing between them. You grab his arms; they’re deadweight, but his eyes flicker some recognition, allowing you to guide his arms around your waist. You guide his head to lay against your stomach, your hands cradling his masked jaw and the back of his neck.

Ghost takes in a harsh, shuddery breath which makes you hum in approval. “There you go, Ghost. Breathe, you’re alright.” You say in a mellow manner, your thumb brushing over his masked cheek. Ghost takes in another harsh breath as his arms tighten around you. You continue to try to ground him, talking and praising him for his efforts to stay calm. You know he isn’t in the right mind, but you’re still shocked he’s allowed you to touch him for as long as you have.

Something in your gut unravels as Ghost pulls his head away ever so slightly, ripping his mask off and throws it away like it was constricting his breathing. He buries the side of his face back into your stomach, taking you by surprise. Your met with his blonde hair in the low light, your heart stuttering.

You hesitate only for a moment before you bury a hand in his hair on the back of his head, your other hand returning to his jaw, your heart hammering as you note he has stubble as well as something on his skin, like deep scar tissue.

Ghost lets out a noise which you quickly hum in response. “It’s okay, let it out.. Won’t tell anyone about this, okay?” You assure him, causing another noise to escape him, almost like a laugh. “Kinda hard t’do that when a pretty girl is comfortin’ you.” He croaks, his voice broken—both his voice and sentence making your brain short circuit. You laugh in return, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Shush,” You murmur. “Just relax.”

Ghost nods against your stomach, shakily exhaling. You stay like that for a while; neither of you are sure for how long, and neither of you care. You’re enjoying the rare vulnerability Ghost is displaying, and he’s enjoying the grounding touch you’re currently providing him. The silence is comforting as you comb your fingers through his hair, and you enjoy the weight of his head and his arms.

“I had a nightmare…” Ghost utters. You hold your breath as he looks up at you, and oh god, he’s hot. “..Can I stay with you tonight?” You’re mesmerized by the way his nose is curved—clearly has been broken a couple of times and wasn’t reset right—by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, his big, beautiful brown eyes.. You nearly forget to respond. “Yes,” You push out, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the tension between his brows. “Always.”

[byeoltoyuki]

Criminal Love

↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

❧ Genre : romance , smut, forced proximity, morally grey reader

❧ Words: +25k

❧ Warnings: violence, mention of knives, guns, smut

❧ Summary: Hyunjin was a good agent. At least, he thought he was. The moment he is ordered to work with a very unpredictable, dangerous you (who also happens to be his little crush), things change. At every step you test his patience, push his limits only to see how far he’s ready to go.

❧ A/N : Aaaaaand it's finally out! It took me longer than I expected to finish this piece. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it! Like and reblogs are appreciated, comments too ♥

❧ Taglist: @lostgirlinthewoodss , @rylea08 , @minimin1993 , @avokralaim , @cheekycountesschoi , @rockyhedgehog , @skzfelixlove , @hyundai432 , @hyunlvrs , @naoristerling

“Did you hear? She got suspended. Again.”

Hyunjin was not eavesdropping. Not really. Not completely. It wasn’t even his fault in the first place if people weren’t being discrete and he just happened to be having his coffee right here. It wasn’t also his fault that the simple mention of suspension and again meant only one thing: you.

And that did get his attention. Without even realizing it, Hyunjin leant a little closer while sipping his coffee, wanting to hear more about their complaints.

“Again?” The second woman sighed and shook her head in disapproval. “It’s the second time this month alone! I really don’t understand how they allow her to work here.”

To that Hyunjin actually had an answer. Or at least half of it. The bosses could disagree with your behavior, your rudeness, your methods all they wanted – you were the only one who didn’t hesitate to dirty your hands, to infiltrate the darkest places and succeed. The results were staggering. No other agents managed to accomplish as much as you did in only two years. They hated you and admired you at the same time. And those women were no different. They could complain about you all they wanted, but they were simply jealous.

Yes, you were an incredible agent. Yes, your methods were questionable and a little bit bloody for Hyunjin’s liking (he shivered at the memory of you throwing a knife at another agent, grazing his ear, because he had offended you). But you were also a dangerous, cold beauty that they envied.

Jisung plopped beside Hyunjin with his own coffee in one hand. He observed his friend for a moment before smirking. “Why the long face? It’s only nine in the morning.”

Hyunjin ignored his comment, his attention was still on the women, straining to hear more about you. Unfortunately for him, they were done complaining. Or maybe they stopped because of the two men’s presence.

He sighed. “They’re talking about Y/N.”

Jisung snickers. “Of course they are.” He took a sip of his coffee, smiling knowingly into the cup. “And you’ve been eavesdropping because?”

Hyunjin shrugged, pretending that it was nothing. As if Jisung wasn’t already aware of why he was so interested. He took a sip of his own coffee, only to wince and realize that while he had been so concentrated on the conversation, his coffee got cold. What a lovely day, it couldn’t get worse.

“Because I thrive on gossips.” Hyunjin tried to make it sound like it was not a big deal. He wasn’t lying, not completely at least. He did enjoy office gossips; sometimes because the gossips were so ridiculous, he couldn’t understand how people could believe their words. Sometimes, because he would catch info he could use later.

“Yeah. It has nothing to do with our sweet and lovely Y/N.” Jisung mocked.

Hyunjin sighed in defeat. There was no use pretending with Jisung, despite his looks and his nonchalant attitude, he was incredibly observant and Hyunjin’s little (fat) crush on you didn’t go unnoticed. “Fine. I couldn’t help myself.”

Jisung’s grin stretched and he leaned closer, ready to either tease him till he would cry or be a good friend and end his misery. “See, not so hard! And since I’m an amazing friend, I will even help you. I know why they’re talking about Y/N.”

Hyunjin cocked a brow, taken off guard. But it made sense. The two of you were friends, Hyunjin just never guessed you would talk about your cases with him.

“Our little Y/N was hunting a criminal for the past week. Can’t remember his name even if I helped her to track him. He took a hostage, threatened the man’s life. What a bad idea, but he couldn’t know that, could he? She shot the victim in the leg to shock the dude. Worked marvelously. She got him.”

Was it anyone else, Hyunjin would have been surprised. But he wasn’t. The only thing that still surprised him was your creative ways at getting things done. Apparently, nothing could stop you. Not even someone’s else life was on the line.

“How did she even explain herself?” Hyunjin wondered out loud.

“That’s a good question.” Jisung admitted and shrugged, “She has her ways, I guess. She doesn’t tell me everything.”

“Sure about that?”

Jisung gave him a lazy smile. “By the way, boss wants to see you. Right now.”

Hyunjin groaned and quickly got back on his feet. “And you couldn’t tell me sooner?”

“Nope.” Jisung laughed, “Was enjoying the moment, you know.”

***

Hyunjin was not excited to see the boss. Not because he didn’t do his work and risked to get scolded, but more like every time he went to his office he could be sure to leave with some bad news. And that, he wished to avoid. He was tired and frustrated with his case. He had been working on the same case for the past few weeks and unfortunately, even with Jisung’s help, he couldn’t track the hacker that had been attacking big companies. The man or the woman was a ghost, leaving little clues to his or hers identity and it was slowly driving him crazy. 

Before he could even knock at the door, he heard voices. Especially one voice. Yours. And by the sound of it, he could easily guess that you were not pleased. Not to say pissed. He hesitated, hand frozen mid-air. Should he knock? Should he wait? But then, Namjoon wanted to see him and if you were already inside, he wondered if whatever the news was, you were supposed to hear it too. Curious, really. And unheard of.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and then pushed the door, deciding that with all the yelling, his knock would go unnoticed. Barely one foot in the office and Hyunjin halted, flinching as a vase flew straight to the wall beside him, shattering in pieces.

Well, you were in a mood.

Hyunjin was highly aware of your temper, heard stories about it, witnessed a few times too. It amazed him how you didn’t try to hide it. Some agents were just like you, anger eating them from inside, but they would do their best to hide their feelings just to avoid the troubles.

You didn’t and he had to admit that he found it a little hot. Maybe there was something wrong with him too.

He had been working for Namjoon for a little over five years and it was definitely a first for him to see someone show so much anger before him. Or was it directed at him? Which would be even odder. 

He cleared his throat and before he could utter a single word, your eyes found his. He froze, forgetting how to breathe for a second. There was so much fire, so much rage in your eyes, it was unsettling. Hyunjin wasn’t a coward, in fact, because of his pretty face people often underestimated him, when really, he was a great manipulator when needed and could fight for his life if required. But facing your fiery character and the anger in your eyes made his skin crawl and wish for the floor to swallow him whole. 

What a lovely creature. 

One last angry glare from you and then you huffed, crossed your arms over your chest and took a seat, ignoring his existence. 

Namjoon shook his head and sighed. Apparently, Hyunjin wasn’t the only tired one, the man looked like a ghost himself with dark circles under his eyes. “Come in, Hyunjin. Take a seat.” And then he looked at you again, pinning you with his stare, a silent communication going on. 

Whatever Namjoon had to say, you were part of it, now he was sure about it. He didn’t know how he felt about it. 

Hyunjin sat in the empty chair beside you, having a hard time not to look at you. He didn’t have many opportunities to be in your presence or even talk to you. No, you weren’t a kind of person who appreciated getting involved with others. Quite the opposite. Less you saw them and happier you were. And yet, despite this coldness, you were Jisung’s friend and Hyunjin couldn’t stop but wonder how Jisung managed to convince you that he was worth a shot. He was the opposite of you; lively, always friendly, spending half of his time cracking jokes. And yet, it worked. Unfortunately, Hyunjin never managed to get close to you which left him with no choice but admire you from afar. 

“I’ll make it short.” Namjoon started, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, looking stern and at the same time, preparing for another storm to blow up his office. Namjoon was indeed very tired and wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit. “I need both of you to work together on a case. And before you protest,” He pointed at you, his scowl deepening as he noticed you clenching your fists, ready to jump and protest, “It’s not negotiable.”

“You got to be kidding me!” You groaned, throwing your hands in the air. “You know I can’t work with him.” You pointed an accusing finger at Hyunjin as if he had personally offended you. Which he didn’t. Or at least, Hyunjin wasn’t aware.

“I’m not leaving you a choice, Y/N. Not this time.” Namjoon didn’t budge, his mind set. “Moreover, there’s no way you can succeed without his help.”

Hyunjin observed you in silence, his mind still trying to come to terms with the idea of working with you. He didn’t dislike the idea as much as you did, for obvious reasons. It was his chance to find out more about you, to solve a mystery he was so curious about. But it was obvious you didn’t share the sentiment; you were gritting your teeth, ready to snap.

“Is it a challenge?” You tried, hoping to avoid to work with Hyunjin.

Namjoon leaned on his elbows and looked straight into your eyes. “You can scream and kick all you want; I’m not changing my mind.” Then, he averted his gaze on Hyunjin. “I promise, she’ll come around.”

Hyunjin wasn’t so sure and you proved him right by mumbling a ‘like hell I will’. This was going to be an interesting experience.

“What’s the case?” Hyunjin asked, ignoring the thick tension in the room. He fought the urge to glance at you and instead gave his full attention to Namjoon.

“The two of you are going to fly to Hong Kong. I got you an invitation to a gallery opening party. You must attend it as a newly married.” Hyunjin blinked in confusion. When he was called into Namjoon’s office, he did not expect this turn of events.

“What do you know about Park Minjun?” Namjoon asked and eyed the two of you, his eyes lingering a little longer on you.

Hyunjin had a feeling he had heard the name before but couldn’t pinpoint from where. You, on the other hand, knew. You straightened up on your chair, all business. “He’s the CEO of PM Security. Worth billions if I remember correctly.”

Namjoon nodded. “We got a tip. Apparently he’s been selling weapons to dangerous people. Another deal is about to happen. I need you to find out what’s the deal about and find the names.” Namjoon finished, then with one final look at the two of you. “Any questions?”

“Yeah, “ You started and, without even looking at you, Hyunjin felt your murderous aura. “Can I punch you for this brilliant idea?”

Yeah. It’s gonna work out just fine.

***

You were still fuming at the idea of working with Hyunjin as the two of you stepped out of Namjoon’s office. Just because you couldn’t actually punch Namjoon as you desperately wished, you slammed the door behind you to make your point.

“Asshole.” You cursed under your breath, forgetting for a second that you were not alone in the hall and Hyunjin was still observing you. But for safety reason, he put some space between the two of you. He could tell you were craving violence and someone to blame for the outcome. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to get into a fight with his supposed partner for the next case.

Hyunjin watched you with crossed arms over his chest as you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your fists in hope to cool down. Impressive temper indeed. He wasn’t a violent person and wasn’t really attracted to violence but as he stared at you, from head to toe, he couldn’t deny that it suited you. You’re in deep shit, Hyunjin.

He thought about the mission, thought about pretending to be a couple and playing his part. Could he really play pretend? He did it a few times, of course. But with you? He wasn’t sure he would come out unscathed.

“We can make it work.” Hyunjin tried to convince you. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself with those words.

It didn’t convince you. You snapped your head towards him and assessed him. You knew who he was, not only because you had memorized every faces and names of people working here, but also because Jisung couldn’t shut up about him and about how amazing he was. He was a handsome man, that you could admit, as for being amazing, you weren’t convinced. The men working for Namjoon tended to be all the same; some with pretty faces and arrogant attitude. Not your cup of tea. And yet, even if it pained you to admit, Hyunjin looked different from them. Just by the way he was watching you, you could tell he wasn’t underestimating you just because you were a woman. No, he was also assessing you and wondering how it could work.

“It can’t be that bad.” He tried again, sounding a little bit more enthusiastic.

You finally moved from your spot and slowly approached him, watching him like a predator that you were. Hyunjin tensed. You grabbed him by his tie and pulled him closer to you. “You better watch out, Hwang or I might kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.”

Such a lovely creature, working with you surely would be fun.

***

Jisung was laughing so hard at the news, he fell from his chair. It didn’t stop him from laughing, quite the opposite. He held his stomach, unable to calm down. He had expected Namjoon to give Hyunjin shit for not having any break in his case. But it was so much better. Oh how he wished he could have witnessed the whole mess. Knowing you, Jisung had no problem imagining how delighted you were with the mission.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin groaned, palming his face.

It had been two hours since he found out about the mission. Two hours since your threat. Two hours since he couldn’t shake off the image of you pulling at his tie, threatening him so close to his lips. Yes, he wanted to find out more about you. Yes, he wanted to get close to you. But maybe he got more than he bargained for.

“Oh hell man, I’m having a blast.” Jisung cackled and wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes. “You and Y/N? Working together? Pretending to be married?” Just from saying it again, he laughed and Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself; he kicked his shin. “Ouch!”

“You deserved it.” Hyunjin responded unapologetic.

“Can you blame me? You two are so different. I don’t know how Namjoon came up with this idea.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “I know you’re going to try and make it work but Y/N…”

Hyunjin could only hope that your wish to succeed would be stronger than your aversion to working with him.

“She’s going to eat you alive.”

***

Hyunjin didn’t get even have a wink of sleep last night. Not this close to the departure for the mission. One week was what Namjoon gave the two of you to get your shit together and prepare.

Easy to say.

Hyunjin tried to reach out to you in hope to talk and prepare your story in case you had to share it with people, especially about your marriage. You ignored all his attempts. He had tried. He tried to talk to you, to get to you through Jisung, tried to corner you. And failed. You were slowly driving him nuts and even his optimism was slowly fading.

He was waiting for you at the airport, nervous. After ignoring him for a week, you finally texted him last night, giving the time and spot to meet at the airport. A message that frustrated him to no end.

He checked his watch and frowned. You were running late. Maybe the traffic or maybe you were toying with him. Probably the latter. But then, as he raised his head, he saw you. He spotted you among the parting crowd, walking confidently and looking too good to be real. You wore white jeans, a black tank top with a leather jacket. Your hairs were tied up in a messy bun with few strands framing your flawless face.

Hyunjin forgot how to breath as you drew nearer.

“Hello, Hwang.” You smiled wickedly, your smile promising torture.

“You’re late.” Hyunjin wanted to slap himself. He wasn’t planning to pick a fight with you, but somehow his brain refused to cooperate.

You arched a brow, amused. “Am I?” And took another step towards him. “Or were you just too eager to see me?”

Yes, you were definitely toying with him. He refused to play your game and instead he kept his face as neutral as possible. “You know I’m not happy about this mission either.” What a big liar he was.

“Sure about that?” You asked, unfazed with his attempt. “Because a little birdie told me you were delighted to find out we were paired for the mission.”

Hyunjin gawked at you, not believing his ears. “What? Who?”

Hyunjin knew way before you answered, who was behind those words but he needed to hear it.

“Your favorite hacker.”

Little shit. Han Jisung was a dead man. If he survives first.

You laughed at his pained face. Not a mocking laugh but a genuine one that made him blink and stare blankly at you. Hyunjin realized that he had never heard you laugh before and it was a nice melody to his ears. Playful, cheerful, warm.

“Come on, hubby.” You looped your arm through his, “Let’s do this.”

***

Surprisingly enough, the flight to Hong Kong was eventless.

Except for the part where you didn’t shut him out like he thought you would. No, after a whole week of trying to talk to you and plan, it was during the flight that you chose to talk. You took him completely off guard by admitting that he was right and you needed a story in case someone ask. The two of you established that you had been married for three months and had been together for two years. 

Hyunjin was bewildered how easy it was to talk to you when you weren’t threatening to kill him in his sleep. The moment you got your mind set on the mission, your feelings and opinions didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was to succeed and if for that you had to deal with him, you would do your best.

A very nice surprise.

Namjoon had thought about every little details that even Hyunjin hadn’t thought about. For instance, not even for a second Hyunjin had imagined that the two of you would have to share a room. It made sense, in a way, but it still shocked him. He was not ready for it. 

Hyunjin glanced at you, palms sweaty. He thought you would start a riot and curse Namjoon and his whole family. You did none of that. In fact, you looked completely relaxed. You pushed your suitcase toward the middle of the room and then stopped to observe the place. The room was big, huge windows that led to a small private balcony. A king size bed covered with petals of red roses and a couch that looked rather uncomfortable.  

You scoffed at the flowers, finding this little detail ridiculous. And so did Hyunjin. “He didn’t need to go to this extent.” But you didn’t seem surprised too which made him wonder how many times Namjoon had arranged things for you. 

Hyunjin followed you with his own suitcase. If there was only one bed and one couch, he would choose the couch, even if it didn’t look comfortable. He didn’t think you would accept to share a bed and he wasn’t sure he could sleep beside you at all. Not that he was scared for his life but sleeping with his crush did make him nervous. 

“Dibs on the right side of the bed.” You interrupted his trail of thoughts and threw yourself on your side of bed. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched Hyunjin with a smirk. 

Hyunjin gasped loudly and looked at you as if you had grown a second head. “Wait what?” 

You watched him from the bed, looking too smug for his liking. “What? Were you about to offer to sleep on the couch?” 

Hyunjin wondered if he was that predictable or if you were just that good at reading people. For a second, he considered lying to avoid embarrassment but one look at you and he knew it was pointless. He shrugged. “Yes.” 

“Don’t bother. I don’t care.” 

“Sure about that?” 

“Unless you’re a hugger, no, I don’t care.”

***

While you were taking a long, deserved shower, Hyunjin went through the few information Namjoon gave you about Park Minjun. Nothing really impressive; his family, about his wife, his kids, about his involvement with many powerful men in the society. Nothing really indicated that he had any involvement with the underground world. But then again, Hyunjin guessed that it wouldn’t be something obvious and they had to dig deeper.

Hyunjin threw his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes for a moment. The party, the CEO, pretend to be a married, happy man, you. It kept replaying in his mind. There were few hours left before the party and he couldn’t stop wondering how it would work out. How should they get close to the man and gather the needed proofs?

Before Hyunjin could delve more on the matter, you came out of the shower with just a towel wrapped around your body, water still dripping from your hair. Hyunjin opened his eyes only to gulp nervously at the sight of you. No make-up, amazing, toned body – he was both in hell and heaven. His pants grew tighter.

Instead of hiding from his intense gaze, you stopped by the bed, staring back. “Need a moment, Hwang?”

Yes. He cleared his throat and tried not to look at your legs. He knew, he shouldn’t be staring so much, but you looked just so flawless, he couldn’t tear his eyes from you.

“Still staring, darling.” You teased

Hyunjin squirmed under your amused stare. “I’m-“ sorry he wanted to say. But you didn’t want to hear his apology. No. Instead, you winked at him and then turned your back, letting him admire the view. You knew you looked good. You dropped your towel on the floor.

Hyunjin shrieked and quickly covered his eyes with his hands. You were toying with him, enjoying your moment judging by your sweet laugh.

“Cute.” He heard you whisper.

For a second, he peaked through his fingers, hoping you put some clothes on. But no. Still perfectly naked and with a glorious ass.

Shit.

“You’re enjoying this.” Hyunjin complained through gritted teeth.

You hummed, not disagreeing. You drew closer to the bed, enjoying how tensed Hyunjin got. How he desperately was trying to hide his eyes with his hands. Sadly for him, his body betrayed him. You smiled sweetly at him. “Just as much as you’re enjoying the view.” And you pointed at his pants, cackling at his pained face.

I need a shower. And a cold one.

***

Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin was ready for the party way before you. Instead of waiting for you in the room, he chose to wait in the main hall of the hotel, taking a moment to compose himself and repeat the made-up story in his head. Everything to distract him from the thought of you, naked with water dripping from your hair. He tried to shake off the image, but his mind refused to cooperate and replayed the moment over and over again like a broken record. This was torture and there was nothing he could do to escape.

“There you are, darling.” Your sweet voice echoed from behind him.

Hyunjin, very slowly, turned to face you. He sucked in his breath, taking in the sight of you. Obviously and objectively speaking, he knew you were a gorgeous woman, but tonight you had outdone yourself. The red silky dress hugged all your curves perfectly, the deep split on the left side exposed your thigh. Everything was flawless; from your dress to your hair, to your makeup – he was bewitched.

Hyunjin stared and stared, his eyes shining brightly. “You look dashing.”

You flipped your hair to make a point. “I know.”

He laughed and shook his head in fondness. Of course, you would say something like that. But then, your lips stretched into a big, genuine smile. “You look good too, hubby.” You stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand. “Let’s do it.”

***

The venue was huge and smelled of money. Impressive paintings, tables spread all around the place with food and drinks. Waiter and waitress walking around with drinks, trying not to disturb the important people. Everything was shining and glittering. A place, Hyunjin didn’t feel like he belonged to. Celebrities, politicians, the whole society had gathered at the same place. He wasn’t used to it, and he felt out of place.

You noticed it too. You nudged him playfully with your hips, grabbed his hand and squeeze it lightly. “Relax. Pretend you have loads of money and you will be just fine.”

Hyunjin glanced at you. It amazed him how natural you were. Nothing surprised you, nothing impressed you. No, you looked at the crowd, unimpressed, assessing them in silence. He bet, slowly a plan was forming in your mind. You grabbed two glasses of champagne from the closest waiter, thanking him with a smile before giving one glass to Hyunjin.

“Look,” you pointed at a person talking vividly with a man. “Park Minjun is already here. The man he’s talking to? He’s in charge of research for the army. Heard the army is developing a new weapon.”

Impressive. Hyunjin eyed the man; he looked to him like any other middle aged man in this room. Rich, wearing an expensive suit, arrogant, trying to make any more alliances.

“How do you know all that?” Hyunjin asked, admiring your knowledge.

You shrugged, your eyes still on the CEO. “I’ve been spying on them for so long. It helps.”

“Do you think Park Minjun is interested in what the army is developing?”

“Who knows.”

Hyunjin was tempted to ask more, to see what else you were hiding from him. He did none of that as he noticed some men staring at you. He recognized the look in their eyes: lust. He couldn’t blame them for lusting after his fake wife, you looked gorgeous and your dress was attracting attention. His body, as if having a mind of its own, moved; he put a hand on your hip, marking his territory. They could stare all they wanted, you were his for at least the upcoming days.

You didn’t shy away from his touch, quite the opposite. You leaned into his touch, feeling completely comfortable with his presence and his touch.

“Well, what’s a lovely surprise.” A man around Hyunjin’s age, or maybe a little older now that he looked at him, interrupted the two of you. He smiled widely, his eyes on you and then slowly his gaze slid to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had to admit, the man before him was probably the only decent one in the place. Or at least, the vibe around him made Hyunjin believe that. He was terribly handsome and looked just as rich as any other person in this gallery and yet, where others looked arrogant and judgy, he looked genuinely friendly and apparently delighted to see you.

And yet, your whole body tensed at his presence. You leaned even closer to Hyunjin as if he could protect you from the man or help you to disappear. It made Hyunjin only curious. Where was the confident woman? The one ready to snap some necks and kick some asses? Odd.  

“Hello Chris.” You finally found your voice and straightened your back, a sly smile on your face.

There she is.

If Chris noticed your uneasiness, he made no comment. Instead, he grabbed your hand and pulled it to his lips, kissing your knuckles, eyes on you. “It has been a while.”

“I’m a busy woman.” You chuckled.

“Don’t I know that.”

Hyunjin knew he wasn’t supposed to feel possessive over you but he couldn’t ignore the little, angry voice inside his head, telling him to yank you from this Chris’s hold. Fake husband or not, he wanted to keep you for himself while he could.

“This is Hyunjin, my husband.” You finished.

And just like that he relaxed.  He eyed you discretely, feeling proud, even if it was fake.

Chris arched a brow at the presentation. “Oh? Since when?” He eyed Hyunjin, assessing him. Despite his intense staring, Hyunjin kept his composure and stared back with as much intensity and still wondering who the hell this man was.

“I’m offended I wasn’t invited to the wedding. Or did my invitation got lost?”

You laughed heartily at his pained expression. “Don’t be sad. It was a small wedding.”

Chris put his hand over his heart feigning pain; you only slapped his arm playfully, leaving Hyunjin’s warmth for a moment.

“Fine, fine.” Chris conceded. “Knowing you, I expected a big fancy venue with at least hundred people.”

You only glanced at Hyunjin, your eyes softening at the sight of his face. Hyunjin almost dropped his glass, completely taken off guard with how sincere, how convincing you looked. He could read love on your face when he knew there was none.  

“I had everything I needed.” You said softly.

Chris gasped. “Who are you and what did you do to my snarky, little Y/N?”

You took a sip of your champagne and looked at him. “Don’t worry, she’s still here.” You leaned closer to him, your smile turning from gentle to wicked. “Ready to bite your head off for last time.”

Chris raised his hands in defeat and took a step back for good measure. Whoever he was to you, he knew about your character and tendencies. Hyunjin watched your interaction with even more curiosity.

“I apologized at least three times already. You can’t hold a grudge for so long, can you?” Chris complained.

You eyed him with a knowing look on your face, a silent message passing between you and him. “Fine, I forgive you. For good this time.”

“Thank you, love.” He joked, “Call me. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Chris left the two of you and yet you kept your eyes on his back as he began talking with a group of people.

“Who was that?” Hyunjin finally asked.

“A friend.” You simply said without elaborating.

Hyunjin wanted to know more but from the corner of his eyes he saw the CEO moving. “He’s moving. Let’s go?”

***

The two of you followed Park Minjun and three other men as discretely as you could manage. If the CEO seemed completely oblivious of his surrounding, the two men seemed more anxious; they kept glancing behind them, almost as if they were expecting someone to follow them or maybe even feared that they would get ambushed. Hyunjin supposed, in a way, they were right to be so wary since the two of you were indeed spying on them.

The noise from the main hall of the gallery was getting scarce until Hyunjin heard nothing except for their light steps.

“I think Namjoon was right. Minjun is involved with some questionable people.” You whispered as you watched the men get inside a room, closing the door behind them and locking it for good measure. “I recognize two of men with him. The third must be his bodyguard.”

Hyunjin looked at you with raised brows, surprised once more how it seemed you knew everything and everybody. He wondered again; what kind of missions Namjoon entrusted you with. “Who are they?”

Without looking at him, you neared the door. “They belong to the crows.”

Hyunjin’s whole body froze at the name. He had heard about them. The name had popped in many cases, but they never could find anything to dismantle the gang and arrest the leaders. It was frustrating how they always seemed to be few steps ahead of them.

“What are we doing now?” Hyunjin asked.

You looked at him, a wicked smile plastered on your face. “We eavesdrop of course!” You didn’t hesitate; body pressed against the closed door you strained your ears to hear their conversation.

Hyunjin followed your lead. He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours. A good agent would keep his mind clear and concentrate on the mission. Hyunjin was not a good agent. He couldn’t help but notice how smooth your skin was. Your sweet scent. And the smile that never left your lips. Get a grip, Hyunjin!

“I expected your boss to show up.” Minjun’s rough voice could be heard from behind the door. He sounded displeased and annoyed.

“I’m his right hand and tonight I represent the crows.” The other man didn’t sound fazed with Minjun’s annoyance and yet Hyunjin could detect a hint of threat in his voice. “I’m sure it’s acceptable to you. Or maybe you should find another willing party. After all, we’re not the one in need, are we?” Now he was taunting the man.

You glanced at Hyunjin, exchanging a knowing look. Just few words but enough to prove that they didn’t come here for nothing. Few words to incriminate the man.

Minjun grumbled, displeased with the man’s attitude. “Fine. Where is it?”

Whatever the ‘it’ was, you couldn’t hear the rest of it. Steps echoed in the hall, alerting the two of you that you were no longer safe and had little time to no time at all to hide. Hyunjin’s heart leapt in his throat as he tried to find a solution, a way out. But you. You didn’t panic, you barely looked at him. Instead, you straightened your back and slid your hand under your dress and took a knife out.

“What the hell.” Hyunjin muttered to himself, eyes bulging at the sight of the knife. “We’re not fighting.”

You scoffed and stepped before him, ignoring his remark. Hyunjin wasn’t a fighter, but you were and right now you were itching to fight the intruder.

At the sound of steps growing louder, closer; his body moved on its own accord. He pushed you against the closest wall, trapping you with his body. He cupped the side of your face, his thumb rubbing a spot on your cheek.

Your sweet scent hit him like a truck. All he wanted in the first place was just to pretend, to make it look like the two of you were making out in the hall, to make the intruder feel out of place. But your fucking addicting scent drove him absolutely crazy. His eyes kept darting back and forth between your eyes, another kind of fire glowing in them, and your plump, red lips that were slightly parted in surprise. God, how much he wanted to kiss you. To smear your perfect lipstick.

Pretend. Mission. Fake.  He repeated those words in his head, trying to persuade himself that this was more than enough.

It wasn’t.

“Do it, hubby.” You encouraged him after seeing him struggle to keep his control.

And Hyunjin did. His mouth crashed against yours. The kiss was bruising, needy, he had absolutely no control over his body, over his mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of you, to memorize how good you felt against him, how nice your lips felt against his.

His grip on your face tightened as you parted your pretty lips, inviting him in. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pushing his face even closer to you.

Hyunjin’s free hand slid slowly from your chest, to your stomach, to your left, exposed, thigh. He grabbed your leg with strength and wrap it around him, giving him more access to your body, to feel more of you. To let you feel just how affected he was. How hard he was with just one kiss. You moaned into the kiss as his fingers dug into your skin.

So. Damn. Addicting. Hyunjin forgot all about their problem, all about the steps that grew only louder. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. There was only you and your gentle moans, urging him to ravish you right on the spot.

“Hey!” A loud, croaky voice interrupted them. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re not allowed in there!”

Hyunjin’s deep growl made your grip on him only tighten. You didn’t care about the intruder, but you cared about those stupidly addictive lips.

“What the-“ The man halted not far from you.

Hyunjin, unwillingly, slowly dropped your leg and parted from you. He wiped the corner of his lips and winked playfully at you before facing the man. “Sorry. I wanted a moment with my wife. She’s just so beautiful, I can’t have enough. Can you blame me?”

The man contemplated the idea of telling Hyunjin once more that you weren’t supposed to be there but one look at you and your disheveled self and swollen lips – he hesitated.

He ruffled his hair in frustration. “Just leave.”

***

“What do you think is his business with the crows?” Hyunjin asked as you stepped inside your room.

“No clue. They’re dangerous and powerful. It can’t be good.” You commented.

Barely inside and you were already undressing, with still no consideration for Hyunjin. He froze right on the spot as he watched you unzip your dress and let it pool at your feet, leaving you in nothing but your high heels and panties. He gulped, unable to avert his eyes even if a little voice was screaming at him not to look. He couldn’t. Not when you looked absolutely breath taking with your smooth skin, legs to die for and your long hair falling over your exposed breasts.

Another time, Hyunjin would have managed to keep his head cool and look away. Now? Now he knew how your lips tasted and how your skin felt under his touch. He couldn’t think straight.

“You can’t keep doing that.” Hyunjin managed to complain, his trousers grew tighter.

“Doing what?” You batted your eyelashes, trying to look innocent but your proud smile betrayed your intentions.

“That!” He pointed at your body. “I’m a man and I’m trying to be respectful.”

“I see that. You’re staring. Respectfully.” You laughed and slowly approached him, your smile turning into a smirk, knowing you were playing with fire and testing his patience.

Hyunjin should have known from the beginning that you were a menace. Jisung was right, you would eat him alive and he would say thank you.

“Must be hard watching and not being able to touch.” You cooed at him and poked his chest.

“You’re a terrible human being.” He complained without meaning his words.

“Am I?”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Bad idea. Your sweet scent hit his nose, making him slowly lose his self-control. He couldn’t think about anything else, only you and your body too close to his. All he needed to do was take the last step towards you, grab your neck and kiss you.

Think about the mission, Hyunjin. You can’t do that. But did he listen to the little voice? Hell no.

“Play with me, hubby.” You whispered, pushing his last limit.

Hyunjin snapped.

Or more like his self-control snapped. He grabbed the back of your neck and claimed your mouth. He devoured your mouth, showing you no mercy. He bit on your lips and pulled your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss.

“You’re driving me nuts.” He groaned against your lips. “And I do not appreciate that.” He gave your hair a harsher tug, exposing the tender flesh of your neck. A perfect canvas for him. His lips slid from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck, leaving pretty marks on his way, claiming you just the way he wanted.

“I’m glad.” You moaned as your hands found their way to his head, pushing him closer to you, wanting to feel more of him. “It won’t be fun otherwise.”

Hyunjin bit on your collarbone in response. He wanted to make you pay for testing his patience, for making him yield so easily. He wanted to hear you plead for more, to hear your scream his name and ask for more. It was his mission for the night and he refused to stop. He scooped you in his arms, taking you off guard – you yelped in surprise. He carried you to the bed and dropped you on the mattress.

The sight before him was his personal hell. Your pretty lips swollen, your hair spread around you, your nipples hard and begging for attention. A goddess waiting for someone to worship her and he was more than willing. But slowly. Despite his own needs and wish to jump on you, he took his time to memorize your body; every little scar, and you had many of them, every mole.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer.” You teased, resting on your elbows as you watched him, biting your lips.

Hyunjin chuckled at your attempt at provoking him. He unbuttoned his shirt, button by button, watching as your eyes followed his every move, watching as you licked your lips at the sight of his bare skin.

“Might do it later.” He admitted. After all, he wouldn’t mind to immortalize the moment.

Hyunjin threw his shirt somewhere on the floor before his hands found their way to your ankles. Gently, he stroked your ankles that were probably tired after a long night wearing heels. Without a warning, he pulled you to the edge of the bed, closer to him, a wicked smile on his face.

Slowly and without breaking the eye-contact, he dropped to his knees. He grabbed your panties and tugged down, exposing your pretty and already wet pussy. Whenever you had planned to get him on his knees or not, you were ready for him and he had to admit he enjoyed the sight before him.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Hyunjin asked. His soft lips leaving a trail of kisses across your thigh, setting your skin on fire.

“Don’t be a tease.” You ordered and nudged him with your knee but Hyunjin was having none of that.

“Come on. Tell me. Is it my tongue you want?” And to make his point he licked your skin, from your knee to your thigh, getting dangerously close to the place you really wanted him. “Or is it my fingers?” Still teasing, he barely brushed his fingers against your pussy, making you hiss in frustration.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” You threatened him, refusing to give him the power over you.

Hyunjin only laughed against your skin and bit your thigh playfully, your threat doing nothing except turning him on.

“Come on, Y/N. it’s not that hard.”

Your ego demanded that you kept your mouth shut, but your body was on fire and on edge and growing impatient. You needed him to touch you.

Your body won the war. “Please, Hyunjin. I really, really need you.” You begged as prettily as you could.

And how could he refuse when asked so nicely? Hyunjin delved in, eagerly, letting the taste of you consume him. There was no stopping, not when you sweet taste invaded all his senses and turned him into an addict.

“Fuck.” You cried out and arched your back.

Hyunjin devoured you, licking, sucking, knowing exactly what you needed. It was as if he already knew how your body worked, what made you curl your toes, what brought out your sweet cries.

One particular strong suck had you reach out for his head, tugging at his locks. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to bring him closer to your pussy or put some space – it didn’t stop him. Hyunjin’s gaze met yours, eyes shining with mischief.

He kept his mouth on you and slid two fingers inside you, stretching you. Your every little cries made him suck only harder, pump his fingers faster until you were nothing but a mess, writhing and begging to come.

And you came hard in a silent scream, body trembling.

If you thought, Hyunjin would give you a minute to recover, you were wrong. He flipped you on your stomach, his hands slid from your shoulders, to your back, to your ass. Such a nice and beautiful ass. Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from giving it a strong slap.

He hurried to unzip his pants, the urge to sink inside you getting unbearable. He nudged your pussy with his cock and you pushed back, whimpering, needing to feel him inside. Hyunjin, despite his own needs, still had some control left. Seeing you so wet, so desperate and lost to your own pleasure because of him pleased him.

“Hwang, I swear to god-“ You started but all words died on your tongue the moment Hyunjin buried himself deep inside you with one strong push. “Fuck!” You cried out.

The pain, the stretch, followed by pure bliss made you grab the sheets, holding for your dear life. You expected Hyunjin to take his sweet time, to make his thrusts slow and controlled.

You were wrong.

Maybe it was because of your pleas, maybe because of how nice and perfect your walls felt around him. Or maybe the little control left had finally snapped. He set a brutal rhythm. His grip on your hips strong, almost painful and that would leave, without a single doubt, marks. And you didn’t care.

“So. Damn. Perfect.” Hyunjin managed to say in between strong, deep thrusts.

Hyunjin leaned over you, slowing his thrusts for a moment, only to fist your hair and yank your head back. His warm breath caressed your neck. “This is payback for all the teasing, Y/N.” His voice sounded rough and ominous.

It should have been a warning and you would have given a damn any other time. But Hyunjin was good. Felt too good. Your mind was blank. You could barely remember your own name.

As Hyunjin forced you to arch against him, his fucking increased, reaching deeper, making you see stars. Mouth opened, tears in the corner of your eyes, there was no stopping. With one particularly strong push, he tipped you over the edge. Your orgasm tore through you, violent, powerful, toe-curling. For a second you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. And Hyunjin kept going, seeking his own release.

Fingers digging into your skin, Hyunjin came with a loud groan, spilling himself inside you.

With his release came a realization. I’m fucked.

***

Hyunjin woke up with a feeling that something was off. He looked for his phone on the bedside table, only to see that it was three in the morning. He yawned and rolled on the other side, wanting to get closer to you and to your warmth. Only to find your side of the bed empty and cold. He straightened up on the bed, staring blankly at the empty spot. Slowly, he touched it, confirming that his mind hadn’t imagined it being cold. No, you had left the bed and apparently the room a long time ago.

Hyunjin didn’t know how he felt about it. Should he worry? Did you need space after what happened between the two of you? Or worse, did you regret it? Hyunjin refused to imagine the worst scenario, but he struggled. He considered, for a short moment, to get out of bed and start looking for you. What if something bad happened?

He heard the bip from the door and quickly lay down on the bed. He squinted, forcing his eyes to adapt to the darkness. 

You walked inside the room on your tiptoes, trying not to make any noise, trying not to wake Hyunjin up. Too late for that, but he did his best pretending to be asleep. Hyunjin hoped you couldn’t see how he was peeking at you or how fast his breathing got.

You paid no attention to him as you got closer to the bed. You untied your hair and ruffled them in frustration. Whatever you were doing at this hour of the night, you didn’t look too happy about it. Slowly you took off your leather jacket and threw it on the chair and then, and it made Hyunjin fight a gasp, you pulled out your gun.

Where the hell were you? What were you doing? He wished he could just ask you these questions, but he wasn’t sure you would take it well. Not yet at least.

Hyunjin tried to calm his heart, to steady his breathing; you got closer to the bed and watched his sleeping form.

“Such a pretty boy.” You hummed, face relaxing at his sight. You gently brushed some strands of hair from his face and Hyunjin fought a shiver.

***

He woke up a second time but much later. He expected to see you sleeping beside him, after all, weren’t you supposed to be tired after going out in the middle of the night? Yet, he found once more your side of the bed empty. He groaned and quickly crawled out of bed. He had questions and for that he needed to find you.

Turns out, finding you wasn’t as hard as he expected. Maybe for a moment, he had forgotten that you were also human and needed to eat. Hyunjin found you at the restaurant, dressed in a pretty white dress that gave you an almost innocent look which unsettled him. But not only that; you were talking vividly, laughing and smiling with Park Minjun.

Hyunjin paused, staring blankly at you and the man. It amazed him how easily you talked with the man, how genuinely interested you looked. If he didn’t know about the mission, he would have believed you were long lost friends. It impressed him how easily you adapted to different situations, different people, letting them see and hear what they needed, what they wanted.

When you spotted Hyunjin, your whole face lit up. Hyunjin gulped, not liking how his heart reacted, not liking how your smile cheered his soul. He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the images of your kisses, of your touches, of your smooth skin against his, of your lovely voice. He didn’t regret his choice, but he was also aware that he was in deep shit.

Hyunjin took a deep breath and started walking toward your table, confident. A small smile crept across his face as your own widened.

“Oh, babe!” You called for him, pretending so well to be completely smitten with your husband. You welcomed him with a sweet smile and a kiss on his cheek (he swore his heart missed a beat). “Sorry, I was too hungry and you looked so sweet. I didn’t want to wake you up.”

Voice sweet like honey, Hyunjin found himself at the loss of words. There was no way you left him without a word just because he looked sweet, but you were so damn convincing. He shook his head before chuckling. Two could play this game. He took a strand of your hair, curled it around his finger before bringing it to his lips. You sucked in a breath, your eyes locked on him.

“It’s fine.” Hyunjin leaned and pressed his lips against yours. As much as he wanted the moment to last, he couldn’t ignore any longer the man’s presence. “Hello, sir.”

The CEO eyed him from head to toe, nodded as if he liked what he saw. If only he knew. “You must be Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin pulled the chair and sat beside you. “The one and only.” He smiled at the man while his hand slipped to your thigh and rested there comfortably, loving the warmth of your skin under the palm of his hand.

Park Minjun smiled as he brought his cup to his mouth. “You have a fabulous wife. So passionate.”

Hyunjin looked at you, eyes softening. “I know. I’m a lucky man.”

Slowly, he rubbed circles on your thigh and you had to fight back a shiver. You could have stopped him, quite easily, but his touch was too addictive.

Minjun cleared his throat. “Y/N, it was lovely meeting you. But I believe I should leave the two of you alone. Enjoy your stay.”

The moment he was out of sight, you dropped your act. A long and tired sigh escaped your lips and you sank further into your seat. And yet, you still didn’t try to pry his hand off your thigh.

“Learnt anything?” Hyunjin asked, resting his head in the palm of his free hand.

“Nothing important. I thought charming him would serve me. Maybe not now, but later.”

Hyunjin hummed. You were right, it could be useful. “He looked charmed.”

You chuckled and poked his side playfully. “Why? Are you jealous, Hwang?”

Hyunjin could have stopped the little game, could have dropped his own act – he didn’t. He leaned closer, looking at you with a smirk. “Why should I be? I was the one making you scream my name. Not this old man.”

You gasped and feigned outrage. “My, my. Scandalous.”

“I know.”

“Now, that being said,” Your smile turned wicked. “I put a tracker on him.”

***

Jisung took his sweet time to answer the phone. It almost comforted Hyunjin to know that even with you, he acted this way. Except for the fact that you weren’t as patient as him. You groaned and threw your arms in the air, growing annoyed with every attempt at reaching for your friend.

“Hello my lovely, favorite couple ever!” Jisung’s cheerfulness brought a tiny smile to Hyunjin’s face, until he remembered that he wanted and needed to kick his ass. “How’s your honeymoon?”

“A lot of fucking. Something you can’t relate to because you’re forever bitchless.” You didn’t hesitate to humble him.

Hyunjin tried to stifle his laugh, only for you to glance at him with a frown, silently warning him.

Jisung gasped through the phone, offended. “Rude.” And for good measure, added, “Bitch.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well,” Jisung began, “I know for sure that there is no way you fucked Hyunjin.” Jisung sounded so confident and yet none of you tried to correct him.

Hyunjin glanced at you but you ignored him, staring at your phone instead and looking tired. Finally, the consequences of your late night activities were showing. You needed to rest but something told him that a comment from him would earn him an even deeper frown.

At the silence, Jisung squealed. “Right?”

“I put a tracker on Minjun. I need you to tell me what he’s doing.” You said instead, refusing to satisfy his curiosity.

Hyunjin heard Jisung tapping on his computer, guessing he was already on it.

“I’m not done with you.” He warned the two of you. “He’s coming back home.”

Only then, you finally looked at Hyunjin, nodding. “Then so do we.”

***

Namjoon was in a bad mood. Hyunjin guessed it the moment he stepped inside his office. He kept tugging at his hair and muttering under his nose. Whatever was bothering him, meant probably no good to him too.

Hyunjin had been back for only few days which left him little time to check on his other cases, make a report about Park Minjun, meet with Jisung to know about the man’s whereabouts.

And you. You simply vanished. He should have known it would happen. He should have guessed that whatever happened between the two of you during your mission would end the moment you stepped out of the plane. It still left a bitter taste.

“I read you report.” Namjoon finally said.

“Did Y/N make her own report too?” Hyunjin wondered.

Namjoon quirked a brow at him. “She did.” He sighed. “The crows are bad news. I hoped you would be able to gather more information.”

“Y/N made contact with Park Minjun.. Maybe if we meet him again, she could gather more.”

Speaking of the devil, you barged into the office as if you owned the place. Namjoon barely reacted at your rudeness, obviously too used to your behavior. You dropped on the chair beside Hyunjin, refusing to acknowledge his presence which pissed him off more than he was willing to admit to himself.

“Weapons.” You announced, “Your tip was right. Minjun does sell weapons to dangerous people and now he’s going to sell them to the crows which sucks. They’re already powerful enough.”

Hyunjin almost jumped out of his seat and grabbed you to question you. He held back. Barely. “How did you find out?”

Instead of looking at him, you checked your nails, looking disinterested if not bored. “I don’t think you want to know.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath, counting till ten to calm himself down. If there was one thing, he disliked about you it was how easily you switched from being nice to the bitchy-old-self. It made him wonder if the side you showed him was real.

“What did you do?” Namjoon asked instead, sensing the tension in the room.

You sighed and slid your gaze to him. “Let’s just say that some men are eager to talk in promise of a blowjob.”

Hyunjin winced, unable to stop himself.

Namjoon nodded, unfazed with your explanation. “We need tangible proof. I’m counting on the two of you.”

Great. Just great.

***

Despite Namjoon’s words, Hyunjin doubted you would agree to partner with him. It was one thing when it was expected of you to pretend and be seen, but looking for information was different. You obviously had your ways and Hyunjin would be a nuisance.

Before you could leave him, Hyunjin grabbed your wrist and forced you to stop and look at him. There was so many things he wished to say but one look at you and only one question remained in his brain.

“You didn’t really give him a blowjob in exchange for information, did you?” He asked, his voice rough.

You scoffed at his question and pulled away from his grasp. “Why? Jealous?”

“Y/N.”

You pushed him away from you by poking his chest angrily. “I have my ways to get the job done, Hwang. Just because we fucked, doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

Of course, you would go back to being the cold, unpredictable and distant self. He wanted to yell at you, to shake you and remind you that you didn’t always have to work alone, that you could rely on him.

“Namjoon needs proof.” You added, “I’m going to give him that.”

“And I’m going to help you.” Hyunjin insisted.

“No fucking way.

You had been staring at your computer’s screen for the past twenty minutes as if the solution to your problems would magically pop up on the screen. Obviously, it didn’t which turned your mood even sourer.

The deal with the crows and Park Minjun bothered you. Despite knowing that the man was selling weapons, you had to find a way to get close and get a real proof. But how? You couldn’t really show at his doorstep and ask him about the details. And getting closer to the crows would be too troublesome. With a long and tired sigh, you threw your head back and closed your eyes to think. Sadly, your brain didn’t want to think about work and possible solutions. No, it chose to think about a very cute, yet annoying man.

“Fuck it.” You groaned and tried to erase his image from your mind. You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to remember the night you spent together. You didn’t want to remember how easily your body craved his touches. And you certainly didn’t want to admit how much you still wanted more.

Your doorbell rang and brought you back to reality. You glanced at the door, tempted to ignore whoever dared to disturb you at your place. Not many knew where you lived, it was better this way for your safety.

It rang a second time followed by a loud knock.

“Open the damn door, Y/N!” Jisung’s loud voice reached your ear.

“Of-fucking-course.” The temptation to ignore him was strong but you also knew that Jisung was a stubborn one; he would alert the whole neighborhood if it meant you would open the damn door.

Unwillingly, you forced yourself out of the couch to open the door. “What the fuck do you want?!”

Jisung lifted his bag and wiggled it playfully before you as if it would change your mind about his presence. “Let’s get drunk.”

Tempting, you had to admit it. You stared at the bag before sliding your gaze to him. Jisung was smiling so widely, knowingly, it annoyed you. He didn’t come here just to get drunk; he wanted information and the best way was through alcohol.

“Fine.” You stepped out of his way. “Come in.”

Jisung didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried inside before you could change your mind. He eyed the room, gasping at the mess. Folders were spread all around your table along with your clothes. Despite being back for few days now, instead of properly unpacking, you left your clothes all around the living room.

“Are you going to tell me?” Jisung asked and glanced at you over his shoulder, “Or should I make you talk?”

You eyed him, incredulous. Jisung tried to sound intimidating as if he could actually make you talk but with his boyish looks it just didn’t work. You drew nearer, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You were the predator in the room and you didn’t mind reminding him. You stopped, barely any space left between your bodies.

“And how are you going to make me talk, Ji?” You flicked his nose playfully.

Jisung gulped, not so confident anymore. You laughed and pulled back to give him space. You pulled out a bottle of bear from his bag and walked to the couch. “What exactly do you want to know?”

You plopped on the couch and relaxed.

“How’s work with Hyunjin?” He asked as he grabbed his own bottle and sat on the chair, watching you.

His question didn’t surprise you but it still annoyed you. “He’s a pain in my ass.”

Jisung wiggled his brows playfully. “I’m sure you’re the perfect partner too.”

You already regretted letting him in. You didn’t want to talk about Hyunjin with him. You didn’t want to talk about him at all in fact. But one look at Jisung and you knew he wouldn’t leave until he got his answers. God help me.

“You know I prefer working alone. It’s easier. I don’t want his life to depend on me.” You explained.

Jisung hummed, knowing how your brain worked. “But sometimes it’s nice to know someone has your back. Hyunjin is loyal and will do anything to help you.”

You knew. Your last interaction showed just how much he was willing to help even if you were a cold bitch to him. You wanted to keep him away from you, from the danger that you loved to surround yourself with. He didn’t need this drama in his life. Hyunjin was a nice guy. Even before working with him, you had heard stories about him and you had witnessed on many occasions how wiling he was to help people. Even those who didn’t deserve his help.

“You know I’ll put him in danger.” You sighed in defeat.

Jisung pointed at you with his bottle. “Pretty sure it’s not your call to make.”

***

You didn’t know how you felt about visiting Hyunjin’s office out of the blue. On one hand you knew the reasonable thing to do would be to apologize for your behavior and have a truce with him. But on the other hand, you weren’t particularly fond of the idea of working with him again. You feared that more time you spent with him and more likely you would put him in danger. And maybe grow fond of him too. It was dangerous for your plans and so out of your character. You didn’t have time for men or the patience. You could deal with one night stands; you had your needs to fulfill after all. But more? No. Not your thing. 

But Hyunjin was testing your boundaries, your willpower without even knowing it, therefore it made him dangerous. 

You stared at his half-opened door, hesitating. All you had to do was to walk in, offer him a coffee and apologize. And then ask for his help. Not so hard, was it? It was. You took a deep breath, composed your face and walked inside his office confidently. 

“Hello, Hwang.” You hummed, sounding as friendly as you could manage.

If you had thought it would go easy, you were terribly wrong. Hyunjin barely acknowledged your presence, the only sign that told you he had perfectly heard you, was the way his body tensed at the sound of your voice and how he stopped taping on his computer. Yeah, easy peasy. 

His reaction didn’t deter you. You got to his desk and put the cup of coffee you got him beside his computer, pretending that everything was alright.  

And yet still no reaction. 

You observed him in silence for a moment, taking your time to memorize every part of his face. You smiled when he crunched his nose, his resolution to ignore you slowly crumbling. The corner of your lips quirked up. You sat on the edge of his desk and gently grabbed his chin, tilting his head. “I didn’t give him a blowjob. But I beat the shit out of him when I got the information.” 

Here was the truth of what really happened. Of course, you were ready to do a lot to succeed but you still had your own limits. And you had other effective means to make someone talk. You let go of his chin and tried not to smile at his reaction. 

Hyunjin tried to keep his face straight, to hide his emotions but you saw a glimpse of surprise on his face anyway. You noticed how his body relaxed instantly at your confession. Slowly, he outstretched his arm and grabbed your peace offering. You watched him, eyes never leaving him as he brought the cup of coffee to his damn tempting lips and took a sip. If from outside you were smiling at the little win, inside you were slapping yourself for admiring him a little too much. 

“Thank you for the coffee.” Hyunjin held the cup with one hand and leaned back against his chair. “Why are you here, Y/N?”

‘Because I was an ass to you and I’m sorry. And I need your help.’ You wanted to say. Instead, you eyed him, captivated with his lips and some creams in the corner of his lips. 

“According to Namjoon and also you, we are partners. Can’t I visit my partner?” You tried to play coy, when really, all you had to do was be sincere with him. But it went against your nature and your damn ego. 

Hyunjin wasn’t impressed, judging by the way he quirked a brow and didn’t comment. 

Yeah. It wasn’t so easy after all. You were too hopeful. Who would have guessed that the sweet and gentle Hyunjin could actually hold a (totally justified) grudge. You underestimated him and that was your mistake. 

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. I need your help.” 

Hyunjin whistled, impressed with how long it took you to admit the reason behind your visit. “And here I thought you didn’t need a partner.” 

You chewed on your lips, so tempted to make a snarky comment but you couldn’t. You did need his help. “You won’t make it easy, will you?” 

Hyunjin shrugged as if it was nothing and took another sip, waiting for your explanation, not agreeing right away. You had to admit that you were impressed how easily he managed to keep a straight face, not giving in right away. You knew better than to underestimate an opponent but somehow you did. 

“Fine.” You raised your hands in defeat. “Do you remember Chris? There’s a party and I know Minjun will also attend it. The two of them know that I’m married, it would be weird if I show up without my handsome husband.” 

You waited for him to show any sign, but Hyunjin only stared at you, making you feel uneasy for the first time. He wouldn’t refuse, would he? Not that you couldn’t make it work without him. You were pretty sure you could convince anyone. But deep inside, you wanted him to be by your side. Even if it was a very dangerous game. But then, he stood up and took a step towards you. He put his hands on the desk, on every side of you, trapping you between the desk and him. 

“And how badly do you need my presence, wifey?” He asked, face a little too close to your liking. You could see every little mark, his pretty mole and those damn lips. You could barely remember his question, your attention on his lips only. Someone talked about a mission? A plan? Who cared when you could just tilt your face and claim those lips for yourself.

Seeing how unresponsive you were and with your eyes locked on his lips, Hyunjin couldn’t stop himself from leaning even closer. His lips brushed the shell of your ear; your body reacted on its own, shivering in both excitement and need. “Are you even listening, wifey?”

“I am.” A big fat liar, yes.

He clicked his tongue at your blatant lie and pulled completely away, freeing your body and also your damn brain from his spell. You blinked in confusion and had to fight back the urge to pull him back.

“I’ll help you.”

***

It had been ages since the last time you attended one of Chris’s parties. You avoided those kind of parties if you could. You hated the people that attended it, always the same one: arrogant, rich, who still managed to complain about every little thing when they had everything they needed. You loathed them and hated their conversation. But at least with Chris it was different. Maybe it was because of him and how genuine he was about what he did or maybe he just always managed to ground you.

Tonight was no exception. The venue was huge, classy and smelled of money. Fortunately for you, this time around you didn’t need Chris’s presence to help you to go through the night. You had someone better and definitely more distracting than your friend.

Hyunjin looked insanely good in his red suit and with his hair pushed back. A model. If he ever got tired of his current job, you had no doubt that he could revert to modeling and he would succeed. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who noticed how good he looked tonight; many women had their eyes on him. Too bad, he wasn’t there for them. To mark your claim, you looped your arms with his and gave him a sweet smile. Take that bitches, he’s mine. Very adult of you.

“I know what you’re doing.” Hyunjin whispered and brushed his lips against your forehead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned innocence and took a sip of your drink, nevertheless a smug smile spread on your lips.

Hyunjin chuckled and shook his head, fond with your attempt at hiding your intentions. “I don’t care about those women. But do you know what bothers me?” His fingers slid slowly from your shoulder to your arm to your hand – you shivered in response and looked at him expectantly. “Those men eye-fucking you.”

Oh dear, where was the sweet Hyunjin? He looked anything but gentle right now. In fact, the murder in his eyes reminded you a lot of you. Maybe, he wasn’t that different from you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, making sure not to spill your drink over him, you pressed your body against him. “Maybe fuck me in the middle of the room and they’ll get the hint.”

Despite the display of affection that clearly attracted more attention on the two of you, Hyunjin played the game perfectly. He put his hands on your hips, his grip strong and delicious. “Is it a challenge?”

This time, you were the one to shake your head, amused with the outcome. Here you thought, you could make him blush and change the subject. But no, Hyunjin still managed to surprise you. “When did you get so bold, Hwang?”

“I believe you’re rubbing on me.”

“Namjoon is going to have a heart attack if you start behaving like me.”

Hyunjin could actually imagine Namjoon’s reaction and shivered. “I’m sure it would please you.”

You didn’t comment but your silence spoke louder. So did your smirk.

Reluctantly, Hyunjin let go of you. “He’s here.” Hyunjin commented as he finally spotted Minjun. And as much as you wanted to enjoy your time with your fake husband, you had a job to do. “He’s with his wife.” 

You groaned at the mention of the wife. “I can deal with him but her-“ While investigating about Minjun you found plenty of interesting and disturbing information on his wife. From outside she looked like the typical rich wife. Inside? She was an ugly, manipulative bitch. She had no problem with using her power to bully the weak, to use her influence to get what she wanted. Whoever she wanted. The kind of person you just wished you could shoot and never look at again. Sadly, if you wanted to find out more about the CEO you also needed to face her. 

“I can’t promise I won’t snap.” You finished. 

“Well, my lovely wife,” Hyunjin took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m more than willing to hold you back.” 

Park Minjun spotted the two of you before you could even reach them. His whole face lit up like a Christmas tree, genuinely delighted seeing you again. Maybe not Hyunjin, but you for sure. 

“What a lovely surprise!” He took you completely off guard by reaching for you and giving you a hug. You didn’t peg him for a hugger, but apparently he was. “Such a delight! You look lovely, Y/N.” And then he shook Hyunjin’s hand, surprisingly with enthusiasm. 

“Thank you M. Park.” You gave him your prettiest smile, trying to look as genuine as possible which with Hyunjin’s presence influencing you, wasn’t that hard. At least, until your gaze found the old hag’s face. The urge to slap her was strong; she was ogling Hyunjin as if he was a piece of meat and not a human being. 

“Darling, this is Y/N and Hyunjin.” He introduced you. 

Lazily her gaze slid to you, looking at you as if you were nothing but dirt under her feet. Such a lovely piece of shit, you thought. 

“He’s way too pretty to be your husband.” She commented with a huff of disdain. 

You are going to die. Slowly and painfully.

“He’s way too pretty to be tied to a woman like her.” She completely disregarded you, her attention fully back on Hyunjin.

“Come on darling.” Minjun tried, sensing that her comment brought a tension that wasn’t there a moment ago. “Don’t be rude. Y/N is a lovely and charming woman.” 

“For a whore maybe.” 

Mission, mission, mission. You repeated the word in your head, trying to calm the fire spreading through your veins. Trying to keep your temper in check and not give in to your urge to slice her open with your knife and see if she bled the same color as you. 

Fuck the mission. Discretely, you pushed back the sleeve of your left arm, ready to grab your knife. Before you could get it, Chris appeared right beside you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles as a greeting, his smile charming but his eyes were burning with fire and a threat. A fire that would usually appease you and remind you your place. Not tonight. You were too gone.

“And she is family to me.” Chris announced as he let go of your hand and turned to face the couple. Despite now the polite smile on his face, the threat was obvious. “Please refrain from insulting her or I’ll take it personally.” 

Minjun’s face paled at the threat. It would have amused you to see him squirm if it wasn’t for your wish to fight. He cleared his throat and hurried to take his wife’s hand. “We’re going to grab another drink, let’s talk later.” 

The moment they left, Hyunjin let out a long sigh and looked at you with a knowing look. Someone wanted to scold you but you didn’t give two shits.

“Piece of shit.” The two of you said at the same time.

Hyunjin surprised you with his words and reaction, but oddly, it soothed your nerves and the fire burning inside your veins. Yeah, he was right, you were rubbing on him. 

Chris palmed his face. He barely avoided a massacre right in the middle of the party; just thinking about what could have happened tired him. 

“As much as I hate the woman, you can’t hurt her.” Chris’s hard gaze fell on you and you would have winced at it if not for Hyunjin’s comforting presence. 

“She’s a bitch!” You protested.

“And you have dozens of witnesses.” He gestured at the people surrounding you. “Don’t get sloppy.”

Fine. Chris was right, but you still felt the need to get rid the world of another ugly human-being. Hyunjin sensed that; he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him. 

“It’s not like she was going to kill her.” Hyunjin told him, confident. 

Oh Hyunjin, if only you knew.

You wished he hadn’t said that. Not only because he was wrong, but also because it would alert Chris. 

“Sure about that? Y/N was ready to pull out her knife and end her right on the spot.” He looked at your covered arm, knowing a small knife was hiding under it. “She craves violence but I’m sure,” his gaze slid to Hyunjin, “you already knew that.” 

Your palms were sweaty. Chris made you squirm under his mocking gaze. He knew this whole couple thing was fake, he felt it from the first time he had seen Hyunjin and Hyunjin’s faith in you only proved it. 

“Have fun.” Chris said with one good look at the two of you. “But don’t cause trouble.” 

So tempting to tell him to fuck off but you resisted only for the sake of pretense. 

“You weren’t really planning to hurt her?” Hyunjin asked.

“She insulted you. This old damn hag-“

“Simp.”

“Take that back, Hwang!” 

****

It was only much later that you managed to have a second chance with Minjun, without his wife scowling at you. You didn’t even have much to do to attract his attention; the moment you found yourself alone with your drink, he didn’t hesitate to approach you. Obviously, Hyunjin’s presence never bothered him, but Chris? He clearly didn’t want to attract his attention a second time.

“I’m so sorry for my wife’s behavior.” He apologized, standing close to you.

You smiled sweetly at him, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s fine. No harm done.” But what you really wanted to say was that his wife would not live another day if she ever made another comment about Hyunjin or even dared to look his way.

He smiled, grateful for your gentleness.

Another man, in black suit, joined the two of you. He nodded his head at Minjun and stood closely to the two of you. You remembered him. The same man that went with Minjun to meet the crows. You listened to the man, looking invested in whatever he was saying while your mind was going through different ways you could get information out of him. Instead, you spotted something else on the bodyguard as he moved: a gun.

“Nice gun.” You commented, taking the two men off guard. Of course, they judged you for your looks and underestimated you. As if a woman who looked like a doll could know anything about guns. You stared at the gun for a moment before averting your eyes. “I don’t recognize the model.”

Minjun whistled, impressed. “You are full of surprises, Y/N.”

That you were. You smiled into your drink, trying not to look too smug. “My uncle is an avid collector.” You glanced once more at the gun. “He taught me how to shoot.”

Minjun made a sign with his hand and the bodyguard took few steps towards you before pulling his gun and handing it to you. You glanced at the man, making sure he didn’t mind you touching it; he nodded his head and smiled.

“Oh. I expected it to be heavier.” You commented as you admired the gun. You moved it around, weighing it.

“It’s a new design. I wanted to make life easier for my men.” Minjun admitted, proudly.

You handed the gun back to the bodyguard, your gaze on the older man. “Guess you’re full of surprises too, M. Park.”

“It’s a hobby of mine.” He confessed.

“That reminds me of my uncle.”

“I bet I’d get along with your uncle.”

He wouldn’t.

***

Of course the crows would want the best guns on the market and if Park Minjun was the one making them, it was no surprise they agreed to work with him. But still, you needed more to be able to stop them. Maybe talking with Hyunjin would clear your mind and help you to find a solution to your problem. But before you could do any of that, Chris grabbed your arm and pulled you to the balcony where nobody could hear you.

Chris did not look amused when he met your eyes. In fact, you were pretty sure he was upset and was trying really bad to keep his own temper in check.

“What’s wrong Chris?”

“The fuck you’re doing, Y/N?” He scowled.

It wouldn’t be very wise of you to play pretend with him; Chris could read people easily, even you which annoyed you half of the time. Tonight was no exception. He could tell you were up to something and probably something bad. He wasn’t wrong.

“Nothing.” You raised your arms in defense. “Yet.”

Chris took a deep breath to calm himself. “What’s your business with Park Minjun?”

Nothing went unnoticed, how sad. Unfortunately, you couldn’t share your mission with him, no matter how close the two of you were. “None. We met not long ago while I was enjoying a nice weekend with Hyunjin.”

Chris scoffed at the mention of your fake husband. “Who clearly knows shit about you.”

In a blink of an eye you stood before him, your knife no longer hidden under your sleeve and pressed against his throat. “And you better keep it that way.”

Chris didn’t even blink, he stared at you, unimpressed. Wouldn’t be the first time you threatened him. Nor the last. “You and your love for knives is terrifying.”

“Don’t see why.” You shrugged and pulled away. It would do you no good to fight him and you weren’t that confident either. Behind his calmness, Chris was a sleeping storm; a storm you would rather avoid.

“Did you know Minjun sells weapons?” You asked instead.

Chris raised his brow at the change of subject. “Yes. He’s been a little paranoid recently. Some people want him dead, I heard. Beomseok offered him a deal: he will protect him but in exchange he will decide to who he sells the weapons.”

What a shitty deal, you thought. From outside, it looked nice; Minjun kept his business and his life, but really, he lost everything. “Basically, the crows are taking control over his business in exchange for his life.”

“Yes, nothing good will come out of this deal.” Chris admitted as he kept his eyes on you. You could tell there was more he wanted to say but chose to hold back.

“What?”

“You’re asking questions but you already know the answers.” He noted, expecting you to spill all your secrets.

Your only reaction came in the form of a lazy, knowing smile.

***

Hyunjin was going to be pissed. Rightfully so. And you would probably need to find another peace offering quite soon. You knew leaving him behind wasn’t the nicest thing to do, especially not since you were the one who requested his presence at the party. But you couldn’t involve him in your plans. Not only he wouldn’t approve of your ideas but you bet he would try to stop you. Therefore, you left the party without looking back.

Just in case, you had left your car in the parking lot with clothes and weapons. You hurried to change, ditching your dress for a more comfortable outfit: black pants, grey t-shirt, a jacket and a cap to hide your identity if needed. You hid your favorite gun under your t-shirt, reveling in the feeling of it against your skin. You hid another knife in your boots, tucking it safely.

Once ready, you slumped in your seat, you waited and watched people coming in and out of the venue. Your plan wasn’t the best one and you weren’t fully sure it would lead you anywhere but you were tired of waiting and trying to find other ways to get proofs.

You didn’t need to wait long for Minjun to leave the party along with his wife and the bodyguard. Perfect. You waited for the car to start, gave them a moment to leave the parking lot and then you followed.

Obviously, you couldn’t invite yourself at his house and search the place, too dangerous. But the bodyguard? He was there the night the deal happened which meant he had valuable information and stalking him would be a piece of cake. And it was exactly what you did.

The bodyguard dropped the Parks at their house, stayed barely five minutes inside before leaving again. You hoped he would drive to his place – it would be easier to slip inside and get to him. But no, you supposed like many men he needed to unwind after a long day of work and the best place for many happened to be a bar.

You followed him inside and observed him from a corner, watching as he talked to some other men. You weren’t a very patient person, half of the time, but when it came to work and your preys, you didn’t mind waiting as long as it helped you to get what you needed.

And you were rewarded. He left through the backdoor to smoke. And it was your chance. The place was perfect; barely any light and nobody outside. And no security cameras. He shouldn’t have used the backdoor.

Satisfied, you moved closer to him without making any noise and pointed your gun at his head. “Let’s play a game.”

He froze at the sound of your voice and the feel of the gun pressed against his head. He was sloppy and it was his mistake. He should have known that working for Park Minjun would bring him trouble; he should have watched his back. Too bad for him, but good for you.

You got around to face him. The moment his eyes fell on you; you knew he recognized you. His arm twitched, wanting probably to reach for his own gun but you shook your gun and pressed it a little harder against his head.

“Now come on, play nice.”

“What the fuck do you want?” He spat angrily, fuming that a woman managed to ambush him so easily. You bet, he was even angrier with himself for underestimating you, for being deceived with your sweet looks.

“Told you, let’s play a game. I ask you questions and if you play nice you stay alive. Easy right?” You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the little game. You enjoyed making the strong men squirm.

He scoffed. “You won’t kill me.” And here he was underestimating you again.

You sighed, disappointed. Fine, if he wanted to play the tough guy. With a blink of an eye, you grabbed his arm and kicked his right knee making him fall on his knees. “Ah, men on their knees, always such a nice sight.” You smiled sweetly at him. “Now. I heard that your boss is working with the crows. Where can I find the contract?”

He looked at you. Really looked at you. You were a different person and he had finally realized it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hovered over him and shook your head. “I really want to play nice but you’re making things unnecessary complicated.”

He spat at your feet in response.

“Rude. Sure you don’t want to answer?” You tried to give him another chance. “No?”

Because he was so concentrated on your gun, he didn’t notice you pulling out your knife, you stuck it right into his left thigh. He screamed and grabbed his thigh, cursing loudly.

“Now, let’s try again. Where can I find the contract?” You asked again, your voice much colder.

“I don’t know!” He wailed.

You applauded his attempt at lying to your face. He should have understood by now that you were ready to get your hands dirty to get your answers, but he still tried to resist.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket which made you pause. You took it out of your pocket to see Hyunjin’s name on the screen. As tempting as it was to ignore his call, you couldn’t, not after leaving him without a word at the party.

You sighed and looked down at the man. “Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut.” And then you answered your phone. “Hi darling!”

“Where the fuck are you, Y/N?” Hyunjin almost growled on the phone.

Yeah, he was pissed. “Somewhere. Busy.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry. I should have texted you but I got carried away.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. The moment the plan formed in your head, you couldn’t really think about anything else. “And I didn’t warn you because I knew you wouldn’t agree.”

The man at your feet opened his mouth, wanting probably to scream and hope to get some help. You were faster; you put the gun into his mouth. He whimpered, eyes wide.

“Y/N.” Hyunjin’s voice sounded darker.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

There was a silence on the other end and then he exhaled loudly. “And is the other person with you fine?”

Busted. You glared angrily at the man. “For at least another ten minutes, yes.”

You imagined Hyunjin ruffling his hair in frustration, torn between the wish to tell you to stop and something else.

“Be careful.” Was what he chose to say.

“Aw darling, you almost sound like you really care for me.” You grinned, delighted with his words.

Hyunjin hung up first. Satisfied, you turned your attention back on the bleeding man. “So? How about you end your misery? I was there when he signed the contract.”

“You’re not going to spare my life.” He managed to say. It wasn’t a question; he had realized by now that you weren’t a nice person.

“No. But if you play along I’ll make it painless.” You admitted.

He considered it for a moment. There was only the two of you, the gun still pointed at him and his thigh was bleeding. He could try to overpower you but the way you looked at him made him pause. There was no trace of the gentle woman he had seen before. No, your smile was cruel and eyes cold. The eyes of a killer.

He was fucked.

“They kept the contract. Boss was furious that they didn’t even get him a copy.”

You crouched down to his level, watching him closely. You needed to know if he wasn’t trying to lie to you. He wasn’t. He looked tired and paler. “They never play nice.”

He nodded, agreeing. “There’s something else. When he signed the contract, they showed him the list of clients he could sell to.”

“Let me guess,” You hummed, “Bunch of assholes he didn’t want to sell to?”

“Yes. They kept it too.”

“I see.” You straightened up and pointed your gun at his head once more. “Thank you for your help.” And shot.

***

You came straight home after dealing with the bodyguard, desperately needing a good shower to get rid of some blood on your hands and get rid of your bloodied t-shirt. But more importantly, you needed to plan now that you knew who had the contract. All your plans for the rest of the night vanished the moment you spotted Hyunjin, sitting on the floor against your door.

What the hell. You were going to kill Han Jisung for not minding his god-damn-business. There was no way Hyunjin found your address without his help. You didn’t want him to know where you lived. You didn’t want him to get even closer to you; it was too risky for both you and him.

You stared at him, forgetting how to breath. You didn’t expect to see him so soon and definitely not after you had killed someone. You didn’t want him to witness you in this state but there was no way you could hide now. So you stared, thinking about what you could do, what you would say. What you could say.

Hyunjin looked tired and worried. His hair a mess, you bet he kept ruffling his hair in frustration, wondering what exactly you were doing. Or maybe he was messing his hair because he knew exactly what you were up to and it scared him. But even like this, he looked insanely good. You’re insane, Y/N.

You exhaled and chuckled. “I’m surprise my neighbor didn’t call the cops.”

Easily, Hyunjin got back on his feet and waited for you to join him. “Oh don’t worry. The old lady did threaten to call them. But I charmed her.”

Of course, he did. Nobody could possibly resist him. And yet, you wondered how he managed this miracle. You knew Mrs. Kim; she was an old, cold lady, who loved her peace and didn’t appreciate strangers. In fact, she didn’t like many people, you included. Not that you minded.

“And how exactly did you charm her?”

“I told her that we fought and I was willing to stay at your door the whole night if it means you will forgive me. Turns out she’s a romantic. She wished me good luck.” Hyunjin admitted, a faint blush on his face.

You would have never guessed. But then again, you avoided the old woman as much as you could.

Hyunjin’s eyes roamed your face and then your body, silently checking for any injuries. You winced because he couldn’t miss the blood on your clothes. He closed the distance between the two of you and cupped your face, worry written all over his face. “Are you hurt?”

You should be annoyed. Annoyed that Jisung told him where you lived. Annoyed that he came here. Annoyed that he cared so much for you when you were half of the time a bitch to him. Annoyed how your heartbeat quickened at his touch. Annoyed how your insides melted. But you didn’t feel annoyance. No, you felt the butterflies in your stomach and the need to wrap yourself around him and let his warmth consume you.

“I’m fine.” You assured him, your throat suddenly dry.

Despite your answer, Hyunjin didn’t look fully convinced. You held your breath as his hands slowly slid from your face to your neck and then to your unzipped jacket. His frown only deepened at the sight of blood. Sensing what he was about to do, you grabbed his hands and forced him to stop, remembering too late that your hands weren’t very clean either. “It’s not my blood.”

“Are you sure?”

It appeased your heart to know that he wasn’t worried about what you did, only about you. A small smile crept across your face. “Yes. I was too fast for him.”

Hyunjin took you off guard; he pressed his forehead against yours, exhaling in relief. “Good.”

The reasonable thing to do would be to tell him to go home. The reasonable thing would be to put some distance between the two of you, but your body refused to move and your words got stuck in your throat. The little voice inside your head screamed at you to escape his warmth – you didn’t even try. No, you closed your eyes and reveled in the moment. It felt too nice. Too good. Girl, you’re fucked.

“Want to come in?”

***

You didn’t want to get used to the feeling of waking up beside a still sleeping Hyunjin. It went against your rules and compromised everything you worked for. And yet, as you watched him sleeping, a few strands of hair hiding his eyes, you barely cared. You hadn’t felt this calm, this peaceful in years. It disturbed you but it was also nice.

You reached out to touch his face, but Hyunjin grabbed your wrist and instead pulled you right in his arms, his grip strong around you. You squealed, surprised. And here you thought he was still sleeping. He tricked you.  

“Were you pretending, Hwang?” You tried to sound annoyed to hide your own embarrassment.

Hyunjin held you a little tighter as he planted a kiss to the crown of your head. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

You huffed against his chest and pressed yourself a little more against him, wrapping a leg over him. Yeah, it was a nice change. 

Hyunjin chuckled at your unusual behavior. “And here I thought you didn’t mind sharing a bed with me as long as I wasn’t a hugger.” He threw back your own words at you. 

And he was damn right. You never liked huggers and yet you couldn’t deny that you were enjoying it with Hyunjin. To save your face, you tried to extract yourself from the safety of his arms. You barely made it before he pulled you back with even more strength and wrapped his limbs around you. 

“No, no. Don’t even try. You’re stuck with me.” He warned you. 

“Let me go, Hwang.” You tried again. But he didn’t let go. “Hyunjin.” 

He hummed against you and brushed his lips against your skin, shutting you up pretty quickly. “Try calling me Hyunjin again and you won’t leave this bed at all.” 

You were glad your face was hidden from his eyes, preventing him from seeing the light blush that formed on your face. He was a menace and was getting better at it with every moment he spent with you. You were in trouble. 

***

By some kind of miracle, the two of you managed to get ready and leave on time. Hyunjin thought the two of you would get to the office together, but sadly for him you had other plans in mind and you couldn’t let him come with you. 

“Wait, you’re not coming with me?” Hyunjin realized when you were finally ready to part from him. 

“Yeah. I have few things to do.” You admitted, feeling a little nervous under his knowing gaze. Of course, he knew you were up to something again. 

Hyunjin stayed close to you, watching you, thinking about what he should do. The reasonable thing to do, and especially because he was your partner, would to push you to tell him your plan. But Hyunjin knew better. He could try to force you but he wanted you to willingly include him in your plans, to show him that you trusted him. 

“Does it involve you ending up with blood on your clothes?” He asked instead. 

“No.” You said. 

“And you won’t get hurt either right?” 

Did your heart miss a beat at his genuine concern for your wellbeing? Absolutely. You cleared your throat and avoided his eyes; you didn’t need him to see the different emotions in your eyes. 

“No. I’ll be fine.” 

Hyunjin gently grabbed your face and brushed his lips against yours. “No more killing, Y/N.” He insisted.

You opened your mouth to protest but he hurried to add. “For the week.” 

You shook your head, chuckling to yourself. “Careful, Hwang. You’re becoming like me.” 

***

You arrived at the restaurant shortly after. Despite your intentions, you hesitated at the entrance. You easily spotted the person you were looking for through the window; your cousin looked just the same. Still cheerful, still loud and just like every time you saw him, he was surrounded by his friends. You felt a pang in your heart. You used to love spending time with him, he was the only family that still mattered to you, the only you cared about. You didn’t want to involve him in your plan, but he was the safest choice.

You took a deep breath and pushed the door. You walked in as if you owned the place. A small smile towards the waiter and then, you walked straight to your cousin’s table. He was too busy telling a story, he didn’t notice you until it was too late. The moment his eyes locked with yours, a huge grin spread on your lips.

“Hi, sweet boy.” You plopped on the empty chair beside him. “Hello boys.”

A hush fell over the table; all they did was stare at you.

“Well look at that. Isn’t it your sweet little cousin?” One of his friend beamed in delight and mischief. Beomgyu was still this mischievous kid that followed your cousin. You could scowl at him all you wanted, he never cared which you couldn’t help but appreciate.

“It has been a while kiddo.” You leaned closer to him and nudged his arm playfully. “Still a troublemaker?”

“Look who’s talking.” He teased back. “Hey, Yeonjun, when was the last time you saw your cousin?”

You rolled your eyes in response. It wasn’t even that long. Maybe two or three months ago. At best.

“Six months ago.” Yeonjun answered, tapping his fingers on the table, unamused.

Oops. So maybe you got carried away with your work and forgot to visit him. You didn’t look so smug anymore. “It can’t be that long!” But it probably was. “I’m sorry.” You raised your hands in defense. “I’m a bad cousin but you already knew that.” 

You weren’t really bad cousin. You knew that. And so did Yeonjun. When he needed you the most, you were there. When he finally found the courage to put his past behind him, you were delighted to help him to have a fresh start.

Yeonjun sighed and just when you thought he would make it harder than it had to be, he threw a fry right at you, an devilish grin on his face. 

You gasped loudly. “Asshole!” 

“Love you too, pumpkin.” He blew you a kiss. 

“Ugh not this nickname.” You groaned but even if you didn’t like it, your inside warmed at his words. You shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. 

“Are we about to start a food fight?” Beomgyu asked, already grabbing a tomato, ready to aim. 

“No!” You both answered. Yeonjun probably because he didn’t want to be banned from this restaurant and you because you didn’t want to dirty your clothes. 

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Yeonjun leaned a little closer. 

“What do you mean?” You feigned innocence. “I miss my cousin.” 

Yeonjun rolled his eyes at your bad acting. “As if.” 

You did miss him, but he was right, you weren’t here because of that. “Fine. I need your help.”

He cocked a brow, a little intrigued. Usually, it was the other way around and it made him curious. “I’m listening.”

“I need you to steal a very important contract from your old daddy.” 

He wasn’t supposed to follow you. He should have headed straight to work and forget about the different plans that were probably forming in your head. But could someone blame him for worrying? He knew how reckless you were and no matter how good you were at your work, one day it could fireback. So instead of doing his own job, he followed you as discretely as possible, knowing that if you ever caught him, you would be pissed. 

Out of all the places he expected you to go, a restaurant wasn’t one of them. He waited and watched from across the street. You looked comfortable with the group of men, smiling and laughing. A sight he still wasn’t used to see but couldn’t deny worked against him. Your smile warmed him and his heart beat a little faster, imagining it was for him. It dawned on him that your smile meant a lot to him and if he could, he would keep it only for himself. If he could, he would keep you for himself.

Seeing you safe and sound should have been enough for him to leave and go back to his business. But did he? No. He stood rooted to the spot, staring at you.

Hyunjin was not a jealous person. Or insecure. At least, he thought he wasn’t. But apparently, when it came to you, everything changed. The moment he saw one of the men lean into you and wrap his arms around you, Hyunjin couldn’t ignore the green monster inside him. He wanted to talk to the two of you and yank you away from the man. He wanted to ask you the difficult questions. But he did none of that. Because there was one thing he didn’t want: fight with you. 

Or maybe he was just a coward. 

***

Hyunjin came back to his office feeling suddenly tired but also needing a distraction. He thought working on his other case would distract him from thoughts of you, from the image of another man holding you. It was a useless attempt when you lived rent free in his head. 

“Fuck.” He cursed and gripped his pen so tightly he broke it in two. 

“Someone is in a mood.” Jisung’s cheerful voice interrupted his trail of thoughts.

Hyunjin blinked in confusion, his eyes on his broken pen. He was a mess and he bet it was written all over his face. He tried to compose himself as Jisung approached, but failed.

“Dude, you look miserable.” Jisung commented and plopped on a chair, making himself comfortable.

For once, Hyunjin didn’t feel like talking to his friend, knowing damn well he would seek information out of him, knowing he would read right through him.  “What are you doing here, Ji?”

“I was bored.” Jisung shrugged as if it was nothing which earnt him a scowl from Hyunjin, ready to fight him. Jisung raised his hands in defense. “Fine. Stop looking at me like that. You’re becoming like her.”

But his scowl only deepened at the mention of you.

Jisung sighed in defeat. “Fine. I saw you earlier, you looked pissed as hell. I tried calling for you a few times – you either didn’t hear me or ignored me on purpose.”

“And you don’t like being ignored.” Hyunjin commented.

“That,” Jisung agreed with a nod, “And I was worried too.”

Hyunjin considered not telling him what was bothering him but he quickly figured that if he couldn’t openly tell you that he was jealous, he could at least share it with Jisung. Hyunjin ruffled his hair in frustration and groaned. “I followed her this morning and saw her with a bunch of men.”

Jisung leaned closer, his attention fully on him, a tiny smirk on his face that irked Hyunjin. “Nothing unusual for the moment.”

“She looked really close with one of them. I-“

“Damn man, you’re so whipped.” Jisung couldn’t hold back.

“Am not.” Hyunjin protested in vain. He stared at Jisung for a moment, sensing that he had lied not only to his friend but also to himself. Hyunjin buried his face in his hands to stifle another groan. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Jisung chuckled at his misery. “Well, a piece of advice; you should talk to her and clear the air.”

“You know her better than me.” Hyunjin reminded him. “Do you really think she will take it well?”

Jisung considered his question for a moment. “Probably not.”

***

9pm.

On a normal day, Hyunjin would have been already back at his place, relaxing with some food and a TV show. Tonight, however, he dreaded the moment he would have to go back home and found himself stuck with thoughts he wanted to avoid. But if Hyunjin thought staying at work would save him from you, he was wrong.

The door to his office was pushed, the sound making him realize that he wasn’t alone on the floor as he initially thought. His eyes widened in shock to see you standing by the door. He gulped nervously as he eyed you from head to toe. Hyunjin didn’t think you could look any better but you proved him wrong again. You wore different clothes from this morning; a leather skirt along with a white blouse. Hair tied in a ponytail, red lips. Sexy, confident and delighted with his reaction. He quickly averted his eyes, refusing to let you see how affected he was with just your presence.

Foolish of him to think it would stop you.

Hyunjin heard your light steps getting closer to him. He tried to pretend you weren’t here but as you got closer, so did your sweet, intoxicating scent. He watched from the corner of his eyes as you sat on his desk, your skirt hiking in the process. He shouldn’t be staring at your lovely legs but the temptation was too strong and he was just too weak when it came to you. Hyunjin closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.

“What’s wrong, Hwang?” You asked and gently grabbed his chin, forcing him to face you.

Such a simple touch and yet it sent shivers down his spine. A simple touch that set his body on fire. “Nothing.” But maybe, Hyunjin was a little stubborn too. “I’m just tired.”

You scoffed at his blatant lie. “You’re a terrible liar. Try again.”

Hyunjin resisted. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“Why not?” You asked instead. “You’re my partner.”

‘Am I only that?’ he wanted to ask instead but no words left his mouth. He simply stared back at you, watching as a frown formed on your face at his silence and refusal to cooperate. It only proved you that there was something wrong with him.

Hyunjin easily freed himself from your grip and slumped further into his chair. “I’m sure you have better things to do, Y/N.” Maybe pushing you away wasn’t his brightest idea, but Hyunjin wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself and to hide his emotions. He didn’t want you to see just how affected he was.

“You’re right.” You said and jumped from his desk. For once, you didn’t want to push his limits. You didn’t want to fight. “I should probably go back to people who actually miss me.”

The moment you turned your back to leave, Hyunjin saw again the image of you, happy, with a man other than him and he didn’t like it. Before you could take another step, Hyunjin bolted from his chair and grabbed your arm. He spun you in his arms and claimed your mouth, any protests swallowed by his mouth.

There was absolutely no way, he could let you leave.

Contrary to what he thought you would do; you didn’t try to push him away. No, he felt you smiling against his lips, knowing you had win this game so damn easily. It should alarm him, but he didn’t find it in him to care. Not when you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. Not when you fought him just as hardly for dominance.

Hyunjin lifted you from the floor, bringing you back on top of his desk. He stood between your legs, grinding against you. His whole body was begging him to do something, to taste you, to devour you. You were his drug and he was more than eager to indulge in his addiction.

“And here I thought you wanted me to leave, Hwang.” You managed to say, wanting to sound smug, but instead your voice came out breathy.  

Hyunjin refused to answer to your provocation. Instead, he hiked your skirt and slid his hand between your legs, humming in satisfaction. You were soaked and he barely touched you. “How come you’re already this wet, darling?”

Hyunjin slipped two fingers inside you with ease, teasing. So wet. So warm. So perfect. And only for him.

You bit on your lips to prevent a moan from escaping. Futile attempt. “Mmmh, maybe because I was thinking about you.”

Hyunjin smiled lazily. “Is that so?” He pulled out his fingers and brought them to his lips, to have a taste. His drug. “Are you hoping to get fucked tonight, Y/N?”

Judging by the glint in his eyes, you guessed that trying to play coy would get you nowhere. “Yes.” You admitted. Because truth was, you couldn’t get enough of him too.

Hyunjin’s smile stretched wider. His hands left your body to unzip his pants, showing you your prize. His pretty cock. Hard and needy. “And who am I to deny you?”

You licked your lips in hunger and anticipation, your body remembering how nice he felt. How nice his cock could stretch you. 

Hyunjin pushed your legs further apart and filled you to the hilt with one strong push. You threw your head back as a loud and needy moan escaped your lips. Hyunjin groaned as you clenched without thinking around him.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He growled and slowly pulled out until just the tip of his cock was inside of you.

“Don’t hold back.” You pleaded. You wanted him to show you no mercy. To ruin you completely. To leave you begging, drooling, unable to do anything except beg for his cock.

Hyunjin hovered over you and planted a sweet kiss. The last one before he let go. He thrust back in. Strong. Deep. Every thrust harder than the last.

You thrashed under him, trying to grab at anything to keep you grounded.

Pointless. 

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the intensity. But his hand closed around your neck, forcing you to keep your eyes open. Forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fucked you with intensity, bringing you closer to your sweet release. So close you could taste it. You could feel it.

“Please, Hyunjin,” You begged, tears pricking your eyes. Your whole body was burning, shaking, begging for release. “I’m so close.”

Hyunjin smirked, “I love when you beg, Y/N.”

Just when you thought you would explode, Hyunjin slowed down. He did once. Twice. By the third time you writhed and cried. You grabbed his arms, scratching him in retribution but it only made him grin.

“Say what you need.”

“Hyunjin, I can’t. Please.” You pleaded, too desperate for relief.

And he complied. He fucked you with force, hitting the sweet spot inside you that made your toes curl. You tried to keep your eyes open, but you couldn’t. Not when your orgasm hit you, waves of pleasures. Your body shook, unable to stop as Hyunjin kept fucking you.

Hyunjin came with a shudder before collapsing on top of you, his head pressed to your breasts. You stayed in silence. The only sound in the room were your pants and the loud beating of your hearts.

“Come to my place?” You found your voice and yet you didn’t sound like yourself. Too vulnerable.

Hyunjin peeked at you, his hair sticking to his face. “Round two?”

***

You were full of surprises.

Hyunjin realized as he stood in the middle of your living room that he should definitely stop making assumptions about you. He came to terms that despite the time the two of you had spent together there were still so many layers of your personality, many things about your life that he didn’t know but was more than eager to find out.

Who would have guessed that you enjoyed cooking? It seemed so out of character. He thought your hobbies would definitely revolve around knives and different kind of weapons. And maybe a shopping addict because your outfits always looked on point. And yet when he glanced over his shoulder and saw you cooking and humming to yourself, it seemed so natural. You had tied your hair in a messy bun and had changed into more comfortable clothes; grey sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt. You looked so homey, so comfortable, Hyunjin had to fight the urge to join you and backhug you.

He shook off the image of you and him for the sake of his sanity and instead took his time to observe your place. Last night, his attention was fully on you, he barely noticed the details. Hyunjin expected to see a place cold, without personality and with only few furniture because you seemed like someone who just didn’t have time to linger for long in one place.

Boy wrong he was. Warm colors, fluffy blankets and pillows spread all over the couch and on a single chair. Dozens of shelves with books occupied two walls. Pictures all over the main wall in the living room. So many pictures. Hyunjin walked to the wall, his hands in his pockets. Pictures that showed you at different stages of your life. On some you looked like a high-schooler, on some a little older, and always surrounded by people. You looked happy, a big smile plastered on your face on every pictures and sometimes you were making silly faces. On one picture he recognized Chris; he had one arm around your shoulders, dimples on full display and another girl with the two of you. But what got his full attention was the picture of you and the man he recognized from earlier. You were on his back, laughing.

“Ah. You found my wall of memories.” You joined him and looked fondly at the pictures.

“You look different.” Hyunjin admitted without looking at you. You looked free, happy and so warm. A side of you he saw glimpses from time to time but he wondered what it would be like if you were always like this.

You hummed in response.

“Who are they?” Hyunjin asked when really all he wanted to ask was: who is this guy?

“Friends. Some I met years ago and some during my missions.”

“And him?” Hyunjin ended up pointing at the mysterious guy. Was he another of your friends? He looked too comfortable with you, too touchy, too close.

Your face softened at the picture. “My cousin and the only family left. He’s a pain in my ass but I love him.”

Did Hyunjin feel a little dumb for believing he was something more? Yeah. But was he also relieved? Hell yes. He almost wept in relief. He didn’t dare to look at you, scared you would see the emotions written all over his face. But if he thought he could hide from you, he was once more wrong. You saw how tensed he was before he found out the identity of the guy and you didn’t forget his behaviour in his office.

You drew nearer, watching him. “Tell me, Hwang,” You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tug at his hair. “Did you think he was my man?” You brushed your lips against his, smiling against him. “You’re a terrible spy by the way.”

Fuck my life. Hyunjin should have known that his spying skill weren’t on par with yours but he still thought he was being discrete. Or maybe he was too caught up in his head when he saw you with your cousin and simply didn’t hide well enough.

You bit on his lower lip making him growl. “Were you jealous?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth to protest but closed it as quickly. Who was he kidding? He was jealous and you both knew it.

You laughed fondly and pecked his lips once more before going back to the kitchen without a word.

Jisung was right. He was completely and utterly whipped for you.

***

When Namjoon asked to see him, Hyunjin almost expected another meeting with you. Yet, this time around he was the only one to come. Was it an ominous sign? Maybe but Hyunjin refused to think about it. The past week was incredible. It seemed that the universe was finally smiling at him. Or maybe he got lucky. Either way, he was thriving.

A lead in his case. Many nights tangled up in your sheets. Many stolen kisses. Many giggles. Everything to be happy.

“Should I worry?” Namjoon asked as he eyed him. “You look too happy.” He added seeing his confused face.

Hyunjin bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his smile and shook his head.

Namjoon quirked a brow but didn’t comment. He pushed some papers instead towards him. Hyunjin leaned closer and took a look. He stiffened as he saw the names mentioned on the papers.

“What the,” Hyunjin stopped himself on time. His eyes darted back and forth between what clearly was the contract between the crows and Park Minjun. “How?” But Hyunjin had a feeling, he already knew how. The image of you and blood on your clothes popped in his mind. It had to be you.

“Y/N brought it yesterday. Along with the list of people the crows wanted to sell the weapons too.” Namjoon explained and relaxed in his seat. “I have everything I need for the next step. Which also means the two of you don’t need to work together anymore.”

Hyunjin’s stomach sank at his words. Of course, it was bound to happen sooner or later and it shouldn’t worry him so much now that he was spending more time with you without even talking about work. But then, he was with you last night, you could have told him. But you didn’t. Why?

Namjoon observed him in silence. He expected Hyunjin to be happy to finally be free of you and your temper, but he guessed easily he was wrong. “You seem disappointed.” 

“I-“ Hyunjin began and stopped himself. Disappointed was an understatement but he couldn’t tell him that. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened his back. “No, I’m good.” 

“Is that so?” Namjoon wasn’t convinced but didn’t insist, it wasn’t his business. “But in case you’re wondering, Y/N asked for few days off. You won’t see her around.” 

***

Hyunjin had a bad feeling that had everything to do with the damn contract you had brought to Namjoon. You kept doing things on your own, things that clearly were dangerous if not impossible to accomplish. And yet, you somehow managed to pull it off. Did you get help? Did you somehow manage to infiltrate the crows? Or maybe you had someone inside who was willing to take a huge risk for you. There were so many possible theories in his mind. One thing was sure, he needed to make sure you weren’t in trouble. 

Like any normal person, Hyunjin tried calling you. Once, twice. Ten times and with no result. It was his first clue that something he didn’t know about was going on. Then, he called Jisung. He didn’t want to overstep some boundaries but he couldn’t ignore how his worries were consuming him from inside. 

Thankfully, Jisung didn’t send him straight to his voicemail. “Whatever it is, I can’t help you.” As if Jisung knew from the start why he was calling.

Hyunjin’s nostrils flared at his words. “Where is she?” 

“Who?” 

“My mother.” Hyunjin snapped. It wasn’t in his character to snap at people and especially not at his friends but his patience was running thin. “Y/N. Who else?” 

“No clue, why?” 

Hyunjin took a deep breath, clenched his fist and counted to ten. Why did it need to be so damn complicated? “Jisung. You’re a terrible liar. You have tabs on everyone. Even Namjoon. So tell me, where is she?”

Jisung gasped loudly, offended that he would use his little secret against him. “I do-“

“Please.” Hyunjin cut him. “I just need to make sure she’s okay.” 

“I promise you she’s more than okay.” Jisung tried to appease him.

“Jisung.”

“You can’t call me every time you need help with her! I’m also her friend and it sucks to be stuck between you two.”

Hyunjin winced at his words that felt like a slap. Jisung was right. And Hyunjin did feel bad about it. Except, when it came to you, he became a selfish bastard. “And I’m sorry for that. But please, help me out.”

“She’s going to have my head.” Jisung grumbled more to himself than to Hyunjin, but despite his words, Hyunjin heard him doing his little magic trick on his computer.  

***

Getting inside a bar, unnoticed, in the middle of the day was harder than Hyunjin had imagined. And just maybe he had overestimated his spying skills. Again. The first person to notice him was the barman; he stared at him with a quirked brow, clearly curious with Hyunjin’s little game. Hyunjin expected him to say something and maybe call the security– he didn’t. He shrugged as if he didn’t care, as if it wasn’t his business.

Hyunjin was not complaining with his little luck.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Hyunjin recognized your voice instantly. He found you at the other side of the room, heading to the hall along with two other men. And boy you looked pissed. He didn’t know what these men did to offend you, but he bet they were about to spend a very bad time with you.

Any other day, Hyunjin would have felt sympathy for these poor men, but then, Hyunjin really looked at them. One face, he was familiar with. A man he recognized from an old case; he had been a suspect but because of lack of proof he was still a free man. Why are you with him, Y/N?

Curiosity got the best of him; Hyunjin followed you, trying not to make any sound.

“He’s furious.” The second man commented, sounding nervous as he spoke.

“I don’t see how it’s my problem.” You completely disregarded his worries.

“Y/N, you don’t understand. He’s ready to shoot us all if we don’t confess-“ He tried again but you raised your hand, without even looking at him, and it was enough to shut him up.

Hyunjin had to admit it; he was impressed with how your whole body radiated with authority and power. They obeyed you as if they were scared of what you could possibly do to them if they utter one more wrong word.

“And I think,” A voice echoed right from behind Hyunjin. He realized too late that while he thought he was being discrete, someone else had spotted him and had a gun pointed right at his head. Shit.

“You should have this conversation somewhere else.” The man behind him finished.

You glanced over your shoulder. Instead of freezing on the spot or calling for him, you simply stared blankly at them. For once, Hyunjin couldn’t read you, couldn’t tell how you felt about seeing him here. And maybe it worried him a little. Whatever you were doing, he wondered if it was on Namjoon’s behalf. Would you compromise your mission to help him out?

“Walk.” The man behind him gave him a nudge, forcing Hyunjin to get closer to you.

Hyunjin tried to keep his cool, tried not to show how he truly felt but his heart was beating fast and loud inside his chest.

Hyunjin was shoved inside a room. He barely had time to react and to steady himself that a man punched him in the stomach. He stumbled and cursed under his breath. Maybe following you wasn’t his brightest idea after all. Despite the pain, he managed to have a proper look at you. To others, you looked cold, but he saw how your body was tense, your fists clenched. You weren’t indifferent after all and this small fact comforted him.

“What should we do with him?” One of them asked, eying you as if you were the one to decide.

“We should kill him.” Another suggested as he pointed at Hyunjin with his gun. Someone was eager to get rid of him. Hyunjin would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit worried for his safety. If you didn’t intervene, he would have to fight his way out.

Too concentrated on you, Hyunjin didn’t pay any attention to the other three men. He should have. One of them closed the distance between them and drove his knee into the back of Hyunjin’s, forcing him to the ground. Hyunjin groaned, his instincts wanting him to fight back – he didn’t. No, Hyunjin’s whole attention was only on you.

“Who sent you?” One of them crunched to his level but despite his closeness, Hyunjin’s eye were still on you. That, didn’t go unnoticed. The man punched his face, not liking Hyunjin’s behavior. “I asked you a question.”

“What make you think someone sent me?” Hyunjin finally answered but still was not looking at him. He was watching you. And only you. He didn’t want to miss any flinch, any twitch of your eyes, every twitch in your jaw. He wanted to see how you reacted to the violence. See if you cared. “Have you seen this lady?” Hyunjin pointed at you. “What make you think that I’m not here because of her? Because she had me completely bewitched?”

The man scoffed and straightened up. “This bastard is crazy.”

The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Nobody talked. Hyunjin because there was nothing left to say. You, because you were staring back at him. As for the men, they felt there was something going on but couldn’t understand it.

 “Leave us.” You ordered without looking at the men.

“Y/N. You don’t have time. Boss wants to see you.” One of them reminded you.

The only sign of your annoyance was your clenched jaw but you still weren’t looking at them.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You warned them.

But they weren’t listening to you. Or maybe they didn’t know you well enough not to push you. “Let us deal with him.”

A knife flew straight to the man’s shoulder making him cry out in pain and stumble.

“I’ll deal with him and then I’ll meet with boss.” You assured them with one deadly glare. “Now, get lost.”

And this time, they did.

Hyunjin had hoped you would drop your act with their absence, that you would explain yourself – except you didn’t. You stared at him with annoyance and already another knife in your hand.

Hyunjin got back on his feet. He wished he could come closer to you, could wrap his arms around you and make sure that everything was fine. But for once, he listened to the little voice in his head, telling him to stay alert. It wasn’t over yet.

“They respect you.”  He commented.

You shrugged and your eyes darted on your knife. “They do. Most of the time.”

“Who are they, Y/N?” Hyunjin wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to his question.

“Idiots working for the crows.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched in his throat. “And their boss wants to see you.”

You tuck the knife back in your boot and took a deep breath. The situation couldn’t get any worse, but it somehow did. “Yes.”

There was one question that Hyunjin should be asking. One question that was right on the tip of his tongue and yet, he couldn’t do it. Asking it would complicate things.

“Ask it, Hyunjin.” As you grew nearer, Hyunjin’s heart beat faster. The way you looked at him, the way your body moved – it screamed danger. You halted right before him. Gently, you stroked his cheek.

Hyunjin didn’t want to ask because now he knew, the moment you would give him your answer; his bubble of happiness would burst for good. He did it anyway. “Are you working for the crows?”

Please, say no.

“Yes.”

Hyunjin barely had time to hear your answer. To understand it. Everything turned black.

Rage nearly consumed you.

Hyunjin shouldn’t have been here. He shouldn’t have been seen by these idiots. The moment Jun had pointed his gun at Hyunjin, you had to fight the need to step in and damn the consequences. But then, when Doyun forced Hyunjin on his knees, the urge to hurt someone got so strong, you weren’t sure what compelled you to keep your composure. From outside you had looked indifferent, cold, but inside? You were screaming and burning with the urge to kill and get Hyunjin far from this damn place.  

You were late and judging by how anxious the guys were, you could only imagine in what kind of mood the boss was. But you didn’t care. Not when another man occupied all your thoughts.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed Jisung’s number. You prayed for his own good that he wouldn’t make you wait and answer the god damn phone. There was only one, insufferable person, who could have told Hyunjin where you were.

He answered. “Listen,” Jisung tried but you didn’t let him talk.

“Shut up! You little piece of shit!” You yelled, your grip on your phone was so strong, you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked. “What were you thinking, Jisung?”

Jisung sighed on the other side. He had been your friend long enough to know that whatever excuses he would try to give you, in this state, you wouldn’t listen. You wouldn’t care. “Hello to you too, sunshine.” He chose to say instead.

He had a dead wish. “Don’t.” you warned him with a growl.

“Y/N…”

“What were you thinking?” You repeated again.

There was a loud noise from Jisung’s side, as if he had either pushed something or maybe smashed it. “He was worried, ok? What were you expecting me to tell him?”

“Anything! What if I was with my uncle?” You refused to imagine what could have possibly happened but your brain still did it. You closed your eyes, wanting to erase the image from your mind but it wouldn’t go. You kept seeing Hyunjin and the damn gun.

Your hand shook and at any moment you could let go of your phone. “He would have killed him on the spot, Ji. No question asked.”

Jisung didn’t say anything for a moment, proceeding your words. “And it bothers you?”

“Of course, it does!” The moment those words left your mouth, you realized two things: one, how true they sounded and two, you regretted admitting it to Jisung out of all people. You adored your friend, but he was noisy and would make sure to remind you every day your confession.

“Oh Y/N,” Jisung cooed, forgetting for a second that you were in a sour mood. “Do you actually like Hyunjin?”

Yes. But you held back those words. He didn’t need to know it. “You’re next on my shit list.” And you hung up.

He wasn’t really on your list. Would probably never be, but you didn’t mind him worrying over it.

You stared at your phone for a moment, considering your next step. The reasonable thing to do would go and meet with the boss as it was expected of you but one glance at the door behind you and your resolution wavered. You couldn’t leave Hyunjin unattended. You couldn’t let someone find him and hurt him.

Fuck it.

You opened your conversation with Chris and quickly texted him.

‘I need your help.’

***

Your uncle was indeed incredibly pissed. Not that you expected anything less and not that you could blame him. After all, he had been working on his little project for a year, making sure that everybody was on board with his plan. Making sure to drive Park Minjun in a corner, leaving him with no choice but beg for his help. And what help. A shitty contract. The control of his business in exchange for safety. If only he knew that his current situation was because of him.

Lee Beomseok, your uncle, and the boss of the crows. A man known for his business, for his methods, for his cruelty and zero bullshit policy. He was respected and feared in the underground world. Sometimes, you were impressed with his accomplishment. But most of the times, you wanted to see his world burn.

“Confess!” He yelled at the poor, shaking man at his feet. So maybe Jun wasn’t exaggerating when he said your uncle had finally lost it and started killing every suspect, even if it meant killing his own men.

“Please.” The man begged, his shaking only intensifying as your uncle pressed the gun harder to his head. “It’s not me. I would ne-“ But your uncle didn’t give a damn about his talk of loyalty. He shot the poor man in the head.

You whistled, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest, a look of indifference on your face. “Someone is in a mood.”

You didn’t think his face could get any angrier but it did. The veins in his neck were showing, his face red. “Leave us!” he barked.

Nobody protested, they scurried away in fright.

Your uncle stared at you, his breath shallow. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, probably trying to calm himself down. You weren’t one of his men, his outbursts didn’t faze you. Not anymore. You weren’t ten anymore and he knew it.

“You were supposed to lead them astray.” He said after a moment of silence. He walked to his chair and took seat.

“I did.” You reminded him without bothering to look at him, instead you checked your nails, knowing damn well that your lack of reaction would only fuel his anger. Maybe it amused you a little to see him in this state, his composure long forgotten.

“Y/N.” He warned you.

“What?” You sighed and looked at him, “It’s not my fault if someone gave them your stupid contract and the list. How did you even manage to lose it?” Were you enjoying yourself reminding him his own failures? Absolutely.

You noticed how his left eye twitched at your words, you bet he wanted to grab his gun and shot you on the spot – he wouldn’t. After years of working for him, you knew he valued you too much to kill you.

He slumped further into his chair. “I’m still looking for the fucker who dared to betray me.”

You pushed yourself of the wall and took seat. “Where did you keep it?”

He looked at you, annoyed. “Where do you think?”

“Your safe then. Not many people know where you hide it.” You noted, “Maybe, instead of shooting all your poor men, you should look into your closest circle.” Not that he would find the traitor among them but you wouldn’t mind seeing him kill some of his trusted men.

He considered your advice for a moment and nodded his head. “When I find the traitor, I’ll make him pay his mistake.” He promised.

Except he would never find the traitor. For two simple reasons. One, he underestimated his own son too much and two you made sure while Yeonjun was helping you to steal from his old daddy, Jisung erased all traces of him ever being present in this place.

“Do you need my help?”

Your uncle shook his head. “No. I need you to take care of some business partners who became too bold.”

Of course, the answer to all his problems was always to kill.

“How should I deal with them?”

“Do what you do best.”

A small smile spread on your face. His order was clear. But there was something else you were better at. He just didn’t know it yet.

Hyunjin woke up with his head killing him. It took him a moment to force his eyes to open. He tried to straighten himself in the bed, only to groan in pain. Fuck my life. He palmed his forehead, trying to sooth the pain.

It took him another five minutes to notice his surroundings.

A room. A very unfamiliar room. And then everything flashed through his mind.

The bar. You. The crows. You. Him almost dying because he cared too much. Him being an idiot. You. A damn spy right under their noses.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His head was no longer the only thing that hurt. His chest. His heart clenching so tightly, he thought he could die. Hyunjin couldn’t breathe properly with all the thoughts and images running wild in his head. And yet, with his panic came one realization.

He was still alive.

Hyunjin forced his breath to slow down and had a proper look at his surroundings. It was clear to him that he was no longer in the bar. The room was too nice and looked to expensive. Had he been taken prisoner?

Hyunjin climbed off the bed and slowly approached the door, expecting that any second someone would pop out of nowhere and attack him and finish the job.

None of that happened.

He tried the door and surprisingly it was unlocked which left Hyunjin even more confused. Was he not a prisoner? Why would they let him roam free? With this thought on mind, he left his room, trying not to make any sound until he was certain that he wasn’t in danger.

Hyunjin’s confusion grew with every step he took. The place he was being held in was really too nice and looked expensive. He quickly realized it wasn’t a house but a damn penthouse. Would the crows keep him in a place like this? He doubted.

Instead of finding a stranger or you, Hyunjin found Chris on his phone, wearing comfortable clothes. That was not how he expected things to turn out.

“Oh. Good, you’re awake.” Chris offered him a comforting smile. “How’s your head?”

Hyunjin opened his mouth and closed it right away. He didn’t know what to say, what to ask. Nothing made sense anymore. He went for the easy answer, “I’ll survive.”

Chris hummed. “She didn’t need to smash your head so hard. But then again, it’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Why am I alive?” Hyunjin asked. It was the question that had been plaguing his mind the most.

Chris looked confused for a second. He cocked his brow, “Why shouldn’t you be?”

Because you had betrayed them all. Because while Hyunjin was slowly falling in love, you were only using him as a distraction and a means to an end. And yet, despite your harsh words, he was alive and safe. It bothered him and left him with even more questions.

“Because none of it was real.” Hyunjin finally admitted.

Chris got back on his feet and slowly approached him. “You’re alive because most of it was real.”

Hyunjin wanted to protest but Chris was right. He was alive which had to mean something. “You knew.” He said instead.

“Which part exactly?”

“That I couldn’t be her husband. And that she’s working for the crows.” The first time Hyunjin had met Chris, he had thought the man was suspicious because there was something going on between him and you. But maybe, he was wrong. Maybe, it had everything to do with Chris knowing exactly who you were.

“I had my suspicions for the husband part. But honestly, knowing Y/N, I wouldn’t be completely surprised either. As for the last part.” Chris paused and for a second it seemed to Hyunjin that he was somewhere else, lost in a memory. But then, his smile widened, his dimples showing up. “Yes. I wouldn’t have met her otherwise. She saved my ass.”

Chris put his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and gave it a strong yet comforting squeeze. “I think you know by now that our little Y/N is a little crazy and dangerous. She has been working her ass off to get what she wants. She was ready to sacrifice everything and everybody in exchange for her revenge. But not you.”

It was obvious by now that Chris knew everything about you. It would have bothered him another time, but now it comforted him more than he was willing to admit. Your betrayal still left him confused and hurt, but he found solace in his words.

Chris’s eyes softened while observing him. “She asked me to get you out and keep you safe for a while. But I figured you’d need some company, so I called for back-ups. They should arrive shortly.”

****

When Chris mentioned back-ups, Hyunjin didn’t think much of it, mainly because he had no clue who could help him out. Turns out, Chris knew exactly who Hyunjin needed to see. How he knew Jisung, Hyunjin could guess. But Namjoon? That was a whole new mystery for him to figure out.

“Dude, you look like shit.” Jisung commented and playfully patted his cheeks.

Hyunjin swatted his hands away from his face. He should probably feel concerned that Jisung kept telling him how bad he looked, but he was too tired and not in the mood for his playfulness. “Oh, fuck you.”

If he thought Jisung would be offended, he was wrong. Jisung chuckled and glanced at Chris, sharing a knowing look. “Sounds a lot like her.”

Namjoon sighed. “I think I need a drink. Or two.” As if Chris had sensed his need, he brought him a glass of what looked like whiskey and a second one for himself. “Thank you. Did you hear from her?”

Chris shook his head as he took a sip. “Not since I confirmed her I retrieved Hyunjin from the bar.”

While they talked, Hyunjin listened and watched. They all seemed so relaxed, unbothered and friendly with each other. And Hyunjin just couldn’t understand why. He never would have guessed that Jisung and Namjoon would actually meet outside of work. Scratch that, he wasn’t even aware they talked, despite Namjoon being their boss.

Sensing Hyunjin’s eyes on him, Namjoon stopped talking and instead approached him. “I have something for you.” He took out his phone and shoved it into his hands. “It’s all the information I have on Y/N.”

Hyunjin hesitated for only a second. Or maybe two. He started reading, surprised Namjoon had so much on her. After his encounter with you, Hyunjin didn’t know what to expect but every word he read about you made his heart clench painfully. A happy family torn apart by a terrible accident which left you an orphan at such young age.

“Lee Beomseok is her uncle. He took her in after her parents’ death.” Namjoon stopped his reading. “Instead of giving her a loving family, he raised her to become a killer. His personal weapon.”

No wonder they respected and feared her so much.

“He made sure she was the best at everything. And she is.” Namjoon continued, “But despite knowing how clever she was, he underestimated her.”

Hyunjin could barely imagine what life was for you. You were just a child, grieving, and yet forced to become something that was not in your nature. Hyunjin’s heart ached for your lost childhood, for the little girl turned into a killer for someone’s greediness.

“What changed?” Hyunjin asked. They hadn’t confirmed him that you weren’t a villain in the story, but it was implied.

“She found out he killed her parents.” Chris was the one to answer his question.

“What?” Hyunjin couldn’t believe it.

Namjoon nodded, confirming Chris’s words. “Being the closest to him, she could have easily killed him. But Y/N plays the long game. When he asked her to infiltrate our ranks, she saw it as an opportunity.”

“And you let her?” Hyunjin had a hard time believing that. Namjoon seemed as someone who always went by the rules. But apparently, Hyunjin was wrong once again.

“Oh believe me, I wanted to arrest her the moment she told me who she was.” Namjoon confessed, his eyes on his glass as he swirled the whiskey around in his glass, a small smile on his face. “But she was hella convincing.”

Yeah, he bet you were.

***

When Jisung and Namjoon left, Hyunjin returned to his room. He needed some time alone, even if he appreciated Chris’s company and willingness to answer almost all his questions. He needed to think, to proceed with all the information he had heard tonight about you.

Tonight, Hyunjin realized just how strong you were. Not only physical strength but also mentally. You managed to hide all your hatred, anger and resentment for years for the man only to have a chance to watch his empire crumble. But also, he admired how despite all the ugliness and death you had witnessed through the years, you still saw the good in people and the world.

Only one question remained. What of you two?

Before Hyunjin could dwell on the matter, he heard familiar voices from afar. Your voice. You were back and safe. It should have been enough for him, for now. But no. Bewitched, he followed your voice.

“You should talk to him.” Chris advised you.

You disregarded your jacket along with your gun and few knives. “That’s not a good idea.”

You didn’t look like yourself. Your hair was a mess. Dark circles under your eyes. He wondered how long he had been unconscious because you looked exhausted and unsteady. At least, you weren’t hurt.

Chris sighed and ruffled his hair in frustration. “Stop being a coward.” You snarled in response, eyes shooting daggers. But Chris wasn’t impressed with your attempt at intimidating him. “You care for him and he cares for you. Don’t run away from something good in your life.”

“Me caring for someone never ends well.” You whispered and avoided his eyes.

“I disagree.” Chris put his hands on your shoulders and gave it a squeeze. “Yeonjun would disagree too.”

“You know it will put a target on his back.” You protested.

Hyunjin decided that you should have this conversation with him and not Chris. He couldn’t hide his presence any longer. “I think; I have a say in this.”

Chris didn’t seem surprised seeing him in the room. Or maybe he had spotted him from the beginning and was trying to make you confess so Hyunjin would know how you truly felt. You, on the other hand, froze on the spot. You couldn’t look at him.

Chris walked to Hyunjin, patted his back and smiled. “Good luck.”

Yeah, he would need it.

For a while, you looked everywhere but at him. It annoyed Hyunjin that you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t talk to him. After everything they went through together, he didn’t think you would try to avoid a confrontation.

Hyunjin considered what he should say. Ask about your life with the crows? Ask about your family? Or should he just ask what he meant to you? Now, he knew that you cared more than you were willing to admit and this thought comforted him. Not everything was a lie. Not everything was a game.

“Namjoon told me your story.” Hyunjin finally said and started walking toward you.

That got a reaction from you. Your eyes widened in surprise. “Namjoon was here?”

Hyunjin nodded. “Chris called Namjoon and Jisung. He figured I’d need their help to understand.” And then another step toward you. But you, you took a step back, trying to keep the distance between the two of you. As if it would stop Hyunjin.

More you tried to escape and more it amused him. Until there was nowhere else to go. You had your back pressed to the wall and Hyunjin stood right before you, giving you no choice but to look at him.

“Stop it.” You put your hands on his chest and gave it a push. He didn’t budge. “Hyunjin.”

“I’m sorry he stole your childhood.” He said instead. His voice soft. Compassionate.

You averted your eyes. You didn’t want to see the emotions in his eyes. You didn’t want him to convince you there was a something out there for the two of you. “Don’t be.”

“You deserve to be happy too, Y/N.”

“I’ll be happy if you stay away from me.” You snapped and looked at him. The need to push him away was strong but the moment your eyes locked, your heart missed a beat. Despite your outburst, Hyunjin was smiling fondly at you. “There’s something incredibly wrong with you, Hwang.”

Hyunjin chuckled, agreeing with you. He leaned closer, his lips hovering over yours. “You’re a very bad influence.”

You sucked in a breath. “Even more reasons for you to stay away from me.”

He hummed. His lips brushed yours, so lightly, it could have been your imagination. “I don’t want to. And I don’t think you really want me to either.” And then another press of his lips, this time a little stronger. “You can’t get rid of me now.”

“I’m going to kick you.” You threatened. You would do no such things. Not when he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or punch you.” You sounded less and less convincing. With every small kiss, your resolution crumbled.

But then he stopped. Hyunjin grabbed your chin, his grip strong. “You’re not getting rid of me, Y/N.”

“When did you get so bold?”

“When I realized I fell for you.” Hyunjin admitted. There was no point denying it. No point hiding it. Despite knowing now everything you had done, some terrible things to get what you wanted, Hyunjin couldn’t deny how he felt. Couldn’t unsee the good person hiding in you. “That’s why, my lovely, murderous, Y/N, there’s no getting rid of me.”

Slowly, you pushed yourself from the wall and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You are in trouble, Hwang.”

“Worth it.”

[killerpancakeburger]

SILVER-TONGUED

SUMMARY: Soap drops by your office to pick you up, like every friday evening for your poker game with the Task Force. But when you turn out harder to remove from your desk than expected, he's going to resort to a different method.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Clingy!Soap, Established Relationship, fluff, swearing, mention of chronic pain, suggestive/light smut: dirty talking, gropping, foreplay (?), semi-public (happens in your office on base but no one walks in lol), (they keep their clothes on). Idk how to tag, help

WORDS COUNT: 1.2k

A/N: Just because I wish I had a Soap to sweet-talk me from my desk at the end of the workday. *sigh wistfully* This is the filthiest thing I've ever written, so... enjoy? But also forgive my amateurism.

Plunged into your work, you’re essentiellement deaf and blind to the outside world. When you notice Soap's presence, he had the time to sneak into your office and behind your chair, arms folded over your backrest. By the way he pronounces your name, you can tell this isn’t the first time he's calling it.

“Hey,” you salute, surfacing back to reality with difficulty, focus not leaving your computer's screen, but reaching backwards blindly with one hand for contact. He grabs it right away.

“What's up?”

He chuckles a bit at that.

“Day's over is what's up. Ye coming?”

Your eyes fly to the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. The evidence is damning: your shift has been over for ten minutes. It is far from unusual for you to stay too late, but tonight's friday and the 141's weekly poker game is summoning you in the form of an overeager Scotsman whose eyes you would damn yourself for.

On the field, the Sergeant MacTavish can remain immobile for hours on end with a sniper rifle in hand, stoically waiting for a target to get in his sights. On base however, your lover can hardly stay still more than a minute without a reason he'd deem legitimate.

His question is very much rhetorical. You tried to slip away once, not because you didn’t want to come but because you were worried the guys felt obligated to invite you out of politeness, and somehow Johnny must have read your mind because he snatched you and fireman carried you all the way there.

You wouldn’t have forgiven him if he had dared to pull those antics in front of others, but he managed to keep that spectacle just between the two of you. You still yelled at him a lot afterwards though. And punched him. And kicked him. Felt like hitting a punching bag anyway, so you didn’t feel guilt over the fact that he wasn’t defending himself at all. Once you were done huffing and puffing, you just glared at him, out of breath, fists clenched, and he stared back shamelessly, a grin on his face. The genuine joy in his expression was contagious, so you started laughing uncontrollably, and he joined you quickly. 

Coming from anyone else, this overly familiar behavior would have disturbed you. Being carried around like a helpless toy, powerless to resist someone else's will, wasn’t something you were fond of. But Soap proved himself time and time again to be safe. He could tell apart your serious reluctances from your playful protests, and if he had any doubt that you were uncomfortable, he would have stopped messing around instantly.

Deciding for you in that particular moment eased you off a burden, saving you from crippling indecisiveness and from endlessly weighing pros and cons in awkward silence. It was a favour.

You never contemplated refusing the offer again after that.

“In five minutes,” you bargain, not wanting to interrupt yourself in the middle of a task.

He loudly whines in protest at that, acting more distressed than he actually is.

“Nooo. Come ooon. Ye can finish later.”

“Be quiet,” you retort, and yet unable to curb an amused smile from stretching your lips.

He sighs exaggeratedly before admitting defeat. For exactly five minutes and not one second more.

“Bonniiiie.”

You don't relent.

“I'm almost done!”

“Ye were s'pposed to be done 20 minutes ago!”

You don't have any good argument to oppose that truth, so you remain silent. Soap does not.

He starts massaging your shoulders and dispensing cajoleries into your ear to coax you into compliance. You manage to tune him out until he curiously presses the tips of his fingers into your trapezius muscles and you wince. He lets out an impressed whistle.

“Fuck, yer tense. Yer shoulders feel like reinforced concrete.”

You sigh, having heard that one before.

“Bane of my existence,” you mumble absently.

He hums pensively, and you think that's the end of the matter, until his hand slides down your chest, all the way from your collarbone until your navel, leaving shivers in its wake, and his lips settle on the crook of your neck.

Concentrating suddenly becomes impossible.

“Johnny,” you call out in warning.

Or at least that was the goal, but you can hear in your own voice how affected you already are.

He treats his name like a demand for more, and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck and your shoulder, tugging on your collar to have more skin to work with. Meanwhile his hand caress and grope your torso, burning you through your clothes, in slow, unhurried motions that feel terribly suggestive. He knows your body so intimately well, only brushing the sore spots, like the side of your ribs, where the bone presses right beneath the skin, teasing the sensitive areas and tenderly stroking the rest.

“What do you think you're doing?” you contrive to ask, resisting the temptation to close your eyes to focus solely on his touch.

This may be afterhours, but you’re still in your work office, and anyone could barge in. While the idea may be arousing in theory, you know that the reality would mortify you.

“Just helpin’ ye relax, hen. Ye work too hard. Lemme take care o’ ye.”

Once again, you can’t find a good argument to oppose him. You do work too hard, and you desperately need to unwind before the pressure you self impose makes you explode like a time bomb. Since you've started dating, Soap had a tendency to mentor you into taking it easy, and he never steered you wrong until now.

You sigh in defeat, lift a hand to grasp his mohawk, letting your head tilt backwards, and surrender to his wandering hands and mouth.

Two fingers glide on the inside of your thigh, from knee to groin. In the meantime, his hand squeezes your breast. His lips stop from sucking and licking your flesh only to whisper filthy nothings into your ear.

“Could sneak under yer desk… make myself at home between yer legs… and let ye fuck my face while nobody knows. Would help with yer tension, ah'm sure.”

You suck in a gasp at the conjured mental image, legs spreading almost immediately. You, digging your fingernails into your palms with restraint, Johnny's cerulean eyes almost shining in the half-light of the bottom of your desk as he's staring hungrily at you, kneeling. Him raising a finger across his lips in silent command before spreading your knees further apart and nuzzling against your crotch. You fighting back against the urge to grind on his face and suffocate him between your thighs, the knowledge that he's not averse to the idea making things worse.

“Johnny,” you whimper, beguiled. “Fuck.”

He lets out an appreciative hum.

“Knew ye'd like that.”

The fingers tickling your inner thigh finally move to where you want them most. You grit your teeth to contain the moan that threatens to escape you as his middle finger runs up and down your slit.

Then the racket of your phone vibrating against the wood of your desk abruptly brings you back to reality. Your eyes open wide and you raise your head to see who's calling, only to swear in horror as Ghost's mask occupies the screen. As the contact's photo vanishes, a notification indicating seven missed calls makes your stomach twist in fear.

One does not stand up Lieutenant Riley and comes out unscathed.

[gallierhouse]

“is armand a coward?” “is he insane?” “is he smart or stupid?” “is he honest?” IS HE BORING THO? the only question is he boring?????

I know you’re being silly, but I have actually written about this before. Multiple times, actually. But my organizational system is so bad I have no idea where any of those posts are. It’ll be in the tag somewhere if you want to look. I’ll sum it up here, though.

Armand both is and isn’t boring. In a vacuum, he’s an interesting person. He’s 500 years old and he’s got no hobbies to speak of besides gardening and torture. He’s got a penchant for v-necks. He led a cult and burnt people alive and then he led another cult and had them murder people on stage every night for a hundred years. He used to wander museums at night. He has a large collection of sunglasses. He’s been following a painting of him paid for with his body for 500 years but he never took it home or destroyed it. He’s surprisingly adept at real estate for someone who lived an ascetic lifestyle for 200 years. He’s got neat handwriting. He doesn’t have a real accent. He’s numbered his memories chronologically. So all that’s interesting. Even if he were actually a soft, beige pillow, he’d still be interesting by virtue of having lived five centuries. But Louis finds him boring because Armand’s always trying to please him. Armand has an idea of what Louis wants (“not Lestat”), so everything he does is designed to not be Lestat, and to fulfill the submissive role in their D/S relationship. By being who he thinks Louis wants him to be, he makes himself boring. He’s not actually boring, but Louis only ever gets to see the boring version of him, because it’s all he’ll ever show Louis. He’s always modulating his behavior to meet the expectations of the people he wants approval from, which makes him boring to that person. It’s boring if someone only ever does what you want and what you say. “You can pick what we have for dinner, I don’t mind” every night for 77 years. It’s boring!

Armand’s not boring. He’s just backed himself into a corner that makes everyone he wants approval or attention from see him as boring. It’s a silly problem to have. Louis would probably be more attracted to him if he showed the side of himself he shows to Lestat. But Armand’s so devoted to pretending to be a civilized, well-adjusted person who isn’t violent and isn’t unstable and isn’t selfish and isn’t anything like Lestat, and isn’t anything besides stable and safe and patient and kind and loving, that he’s filed off his own edge. You can see him compartmentalize it. He hunts alone. He leaves the penthouse. That’s something he does for himself. The only time he allows himself to be whoever he really is without the expectation of someone else, and it’s out of sight for both the viewer and Louis. He declaws himself for the sake of others, and he’s naturally hurt when people say things like, “Where are your claws? Why don’t you have claws? You’re boring!” It’s a mean thing to say to someone who spends all their time and energy attempting to be interesting to you, even if their method is self-defeating and stupid. I think Armand might think of himself as boring, though. But his metric for what’s normal and abnormal is so far removed from any conceivable standard of normalcy it’s not really a valid opinion to hold. He’s silly, okay?

[lexsssu]

Naive (Alhaitham)

TAGS: Alhaitham/F!Bunny!reader, friends to lovers, pining, yandere, possessive behavior, obsession, mating cycles/heats, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Why do we have to learn more math even if our major has nothing to do with it? At this rate, I’m going to flunk and take it again next semester…”

Alhaitham’s fingers twitched unconsciously as your pair of long ears drooped down, hanging by the sides of your face almost as if they were pigtails instead of actual appendages.

“What the heck am I going to need calculus for when I’m trying to develop improved cultivation tools and methods? It’s not like I need to find out the value of X while I’m plowing the fields or something…”

His heartbeat is delayed for a single second at the mention of ‘plowing fields,’ and he has no one else to thank other than the hormonal male Akademiya students who’d made one or two passing unsolicited remarks about Amurta’s only female beastkin student.

He made sure to memorize their faces and names for him to deal with at a later date.

“Alhaitham, help meeee…!” 

Despite being a proud descendant of the Taguel, the way you so easily beg and plead so submissively at him with large watery eyes and a pout formed by a pair of luscious lips has him wondering if you were unconsciously using some sort of secret seduction techniques passed on through your clan. Perhaps you were even secreting some sort of pheromones that made him calmer, more relaxed, and susceptible to your whims…

“Knowledge always comes at a price. I’m willing to tutor you, but you’ll owe me a single favor that you can’t refuse and which I can redeem at any time of my choosing,” bright turquoise orbs darkened as he leaned his head against his curled right fist. “Are you still willing to pursue this knowledge despite the costs?”

“Of course! I trust you, Alhaitham. So why would I be scared about the favor I’ll be owing you for this? Knowing you, you’ll probably make me do some paperwork or help with your research,” you giggle, the fluffy cotton ball of a tail you had wagging at how silly your friend was. 

Why would you ever be afraid of him when he’d been nothing but honest with you? Alhaitham wasn’t some random cur that tricked hapless maidens into his slimy grasp.

If only you knew just how depraved he truly was when it came to you. 

Then again, it is his luck that his adorable little bunny was such an innocent creature that only saw the best in him.

It’s up to him to make sure no one ever takes advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Even if it means he has to carefully plan and wait for the right time to finally express his true desires, he is willing to be patient. Especially when he knows that you are what awaited him at the end.  

You remain blissfully unaware of his thoughts and intentions, not even questioning him or thinking how odd it was for him to have you sit on his lap as he taught you your most dreaded subject.

Alhaitham is a good man and an even greater friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both graduate within the same year with, as expected, flying colors, much to the joy of your respective families. It’s a solemn yet joyous affair, one that you invited him to because how could you not when it was with his help that you managed to even graduate with honors?

There is sure to be some teasing courtesy of your family once you get home, but that is the last thing on your mind as you leap into Alhaitham’s strong arms.

Even through the layers of your graduation attire, you feel the wall of solid muscle that is his body, something that always amazed you when he was one of the most brilliant scholars in Sumeru.

“Thank you, Alhaitham. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without you always having my back,” you don’t notice the way his sandstone-colored irises seem to dilate as you curl around him, your entire body supported by a single arm around your soft waist while another hand settles upon the plushness of your bum.

Being so close to you like this allows him a whiff of your scent, a mix of soft floral and woody notes with a hint of fruity and citrus underneath. He feels his body heating up from the inside as his senses are assaulted by your voice, your body, and even your smell.

He won’t be able to last long if you keep this up.

Don’t you know how much you drive him crazy?

Rational thoughts come second to instincts when it comes to you, something your kind is very much familiar with.

If there aren’t so many people right now, he’ll throw you onto the grassy ground and mount you right here. He’ll put a whole litter of kittens in your belly and take care of you and your new family for the rest of his days—

Somehow, he manages to keep himself from making a scene by fucking you right in front of your family and the entire Amurta faculty, namely your master, Sage Naphis, whose short temper was legendary throughout the Akademiya. 

However, each day that passes and each small action you make only wears his thinning patience and self-control. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but rather a question of ‘when,’ and only the Archons know when that will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So…Acting Grand Sage, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do great things, but Sumeru’s de-facto leader? Makes me wonder why you’re even hanging out with a country bumpkin like me~” Sticking your tongue out playfully and winking at him, you miss the way he swallows seemingly nothing but air.

“Don’t be absurd. Who I associate with of my own volition is no one’s business but my own.” 

Although he may look and sound cold at first glance, you have known Alhaitham long enough to know for sure that he simply has his own ways of showing he cares. He wouldn’t let Kaveh stay at his place if he didn’t care about his friend after all. And even if the scribe wanted to be stubborn about it initially, you simply offered to house Kaveh instead, which ended up with the architect staying at Alhaitham’s in the end.

It’s honestly downright adorable how contradictory he could be at times, seemingly wanting to maintain an unbothered and uncaring attitude when you knew full well how good of a friend he was.

If only you knew that the real reason why he allowed Kaveh room and board was that he’d sooner gut the other man than let him stay in the same house as you. 

He’d gouge the architect’s eyes out if they even settled too long on you.

It’s one of the reasons you’ve come to harbor feelings for him.

He is handsome, he is brilliant, but most of all, he is kind even when you have nothing to give him in return aside from your time and friendship.

You repeatedly stamp down the warm bubbly feelings within you that try to rise to the surface, repeatedly telling yourself that there is no chance that such a fine specimen as Alhaitham would return your affections.

Archons know just how many times you’d fingered yourself to thoughts of him during your heats. How you imagined scenarios of him coming to you in the dead of night, whispering sweet nothings and promises of breeding you full, just as nature had intended.

But there’s no way that could ever happen…right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"'m sorry…didn't know…it'd come early this…year…!" 

You are a pitiful mess as you lie on the grassy ground, your body overheating from the inside as the symptoms of your heat swiftly overtake all rational thought. According to your calendar, it wasn’t supposed to happen for another few days!

He memorized the exact dates of your cycle, so he knows full well just when you’ll be perfectly ripe and ready for the taking.

Had you not forced his hand in the first place, he’d have gladly waited for your regular heat.

“Don’t l-look at me…Haitham…!” 

How can he not look upon the stunning sight of you looking so hot and disheveled because of your need to be mated and bred? It is a sight he will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

You desperately force down the beastly instincts that urge you to submit to the nearest virile male and present your soaked cunt that begged to be bred. It is humiliating, especially because Alhaitham is forced to watch your lewd and debauched display. 

It brings him such glee at the knowledge that no one will ever get to see you like this. 

Whether it was your upperclassman Tighnari, your friend Cyno, or even Kaveh, none of them will ever have this privilege.

You don’t even want to think about how you’ll face him after this.

Because why would he ever want a mere beast like you?

It is his misfortune that he wasn’t born a beastman like you were. However, he’ll make sure to make up for what he lacked tenfold.

You sniffle, feeling small tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body and mind fight one another. Your hands move to cover your face, unwilling to let him see any more of the pitiful sight you made.

There’s no need for you to look for a mate from the other beastkin clans.

He’d rather burn Gandharva Ville to the ground than hand you over to the likes of Tighnari. 

Just because the other male was your senior and studied under the same sage didn’t mean that he’ll let that damnable fox sink his claws into you. 

“No. I believe I have a better solution for your plight,” with one hand, he pins both your wrists above you as he settles himself in between your legs.

“Mate with me.”

His words send a shock through your body, floppy bunny ears standing ramrod straight as you gaze up at him with large eyes, heart beating like a drum as the weight of his statement registers in your mind.

“Don’t you see? It’s simply because our bodies are compatible with one another that your heat opted to arrive earlier than expected. Your body already knows what your mind has yet to even comprehend,” Alhaitham’s turquoise orbs seemed like they were almost glowing in the dark as they gazed down at you like a predator eyeing its prey.

You were always the only one meant for him, even if you didn’t realize it at first.

And yet, you don’t feel a single ounce of fear.

Rather, you want to be devoured by him.

You want him to stuff you full with his cum again and again until his seed takes root in your awaiting womb and bears fruit.

You want him and will gladly take everything he’ll give you.

“Alhaitham…mate with me, please?”

[marzipanandminutiae]

I have a question, where would gnc/trans people get their clotges in the days before the selling of premade clothes? I assume some was stealing from relatives, and that soem of them did know how to make clothes, but that doesn't seem at all likely to be the most common method

That is an amazing question!

Unfortunately for a lot of people, we don't really know- many trans folks flew under the radar and as such details of their lives are unclear. Legendary stagecoach driver Charley Parkhurst, for example, left no sort of record as to where he got his clothes (especially since he lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for many years of his life). And figures like Mary Jones, a Black trans sex worker from the early 19th century, flit into and out of the pages of history so quickly that there's barely enough info to get their vital statistics, let alone shopping habits.

However, my guesses would be as follows:

Secondhand shops. These have existed for a very long time, and if you already have at least one outfit that makes you read as the correct gender, nobody would question you going through that section of the store/market/whatever.

Sympathetic conventional tailors or dressmakers. This is almost certainly where middle- and upper-class GNC or trans people got their clothing- one can hardly imagine legendary writer George Sand buying her suits secondhand, after all. And since humans have always been human, and Let People Dress How They Please; They Aren't Hurting Anyone is a sentiment I've seen at least as far back as the 19th century, I suspect there were far more of these than many people might think.

Clothing workshops catering to the demimonde- that is, to theatrical companies for costumes, or to sex workers. Certainly this is where drag performers got their stage gear, and one imagines people for whom gender variance crossed the line from performance to identity- like Fanny Park and Stella Boulton -might have turned to their costumers for everyday attire, too. And catering to sex workers probably got all sorts of requests that were seen as outre for the time (in a roleplay capacity- most sex workers dressed conventionally while not actively Doing Sex), but their money was as good as anyone else's.

Friends and relatives. Some families knowingly supported their crossdressing or trans loved ones. Even partners who married the person in question as the binary opposite gender could fall into this category- Lili Elbe (though she lived after premade dresses began to rise in popularity) first experimented with feminine attire in dresses and jewelry loaned by her enthusiastically supportive wife Gerta Gottlieb. In fact, Gottlieb was bisexual, and their marriage was only annulled because Lili was a woman now and same-gender marriage was illegal in Denmark at the time.

Also yes stealing from your relatives was also an option, of course. if they were less than sympathetic

The king of France???? this is the wildcard, and my absolute favorite: the Chevaliere d'Eon, when she transitioned in the 1770s, got the king to not only formally state that she had been assigned female at birth (there had been speculation about her physical sex for years at this point) but to pay for her new wardrobe of gowns. Absolute Queen.

"but didn't her mantua-makers notice Some Physical Things?" she's believed to have had some form of gynecomastia, based on her autopsy, and they'd never have cause to see her in less than her calf-length chemise. if they did see anything, they kept their mouths shut, and rightly so.