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sunboki · 2 months

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— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. 12k words

AUG'S NOTES. if there’s ever been a more spontaneous fic in history it would be this… every sentence is write is purely self indulgent…. (genuinely a written version of the stories i make in my head while laying in bed)

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

It’s a fever dream walking into the Kingdom that, compared to yours, looks positively flourishing with life. Beasts of all kinds roam about, carrying on with their daily lives, oblivious to the winds of death they’ve swept your way.

Everything in your body feels as if it’s shutting down, unable to feel the sensation of your legs as you trudge forward, the younger, much kinder Beast ensuring you kept pace.

Freezing temperatures carry on the longer snow falls, gluing strands of hair to your forehead, blanketing your lashes while your nose runs incessantly.

In front of you now lies the castle, far grander than you could’ve ever imagined. Twin spires peek above the low-hanging clouds, stone columns towering above.

From your distance you spot two knights positioned on either side of the entryway, large armored helmets with hawk feathers adorning the ridges.

One knight stops your ascent, the light-haired man rolling his eyes profusely.

“Minho, this is important.”

“Important enough you’re bringing a Mage into the Kingdom?”

His voice smooth as honey, he sports a dominant tone when speaking. Stare observant, he watches the other Beast’s expressions with uncanny precision.

“Because if you haven’t noticed Hyunjin,” He leans forward a bit, whispering. “You have the entire Kingdom’s attention.”

At this, either of the Beasts who escorted you turn around, and upon doing so are met with hundreds, if not thousands of eyes boring into their soul. Whether it’s younger Beasts or aged soldiers, those heinous vermillion orbs seem to see through you.

You gulp.

“C’mon,” Hyunjin harshly beckons, nudging you forward through the gates with the younger quick on his tail.

Every color in the Palace is monochromatically grey, although strikes of royal blue reside in large drapes hung from perched balconies.

Similar guards to those outside sift throughout the room, familiar hawk feathers litter everywhere in sight, paving paths to the core of the room where a throne sits.

Pointed edges flank either side of the massive chair, the ocean blue rug underneath reflecting up and out of the ceiling — a glass design stretching wide across the throne room, emphasizing the dusky weather outside.

According to the younger Beast whose title you learned as Jeongin, the King was currently participating in a hunt with Changbin (the lead hunter of the Palace), so after hasty appreciation of the sheer volume of this breathtaking castle, you’re forced toward the dungeons.

Jeongin wears a pitying frown, promising to return with some food to your chambers in the case the King doesn’t arrive for a while.

At least someone in this Kingdom doesn’t insist you’re beheaded.

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

A voice erupting from the darkening depths to your right make you jump, chained wrists clanging abruptly. Through minimal lighting of the burning lamps hastened upon the walls, you make out the silhouette of a man, face bunching in a sweet manner when he smiles.

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

“What’re you in here for?” You begin, gaze narrowed in confusion. The chubby-cheeked stranger smiles haphazardly.

“I would ask you the same thing. I’m the King’s Advisor, he just gets tired of me and puts me in here sometimes,” Your chamber-mate sighs, and once you take in what he professed, the urge to laugh becomes too strong to control.

Laughing for the first time in quite a while is sort of relieving, especially when this new acquaintance of yours begins whining his dismay, aimlessly trying to hush your giggles.

Red eyes. You can see them blinking up at you, gleaming when he grins his pointed teeth.

Quickly pausing, you wait in horror as he gradually sniffs in.

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

His phrase is cut off by a loud ringing noise, a familiar echo of keys tunneling down the dungeons stairwell.

Another stranger unlocks the door. He’s burly, with curly hair in disarray. Cuffs of animal fur wraps around defined biceps, his top a tight-fitted arrangement of fur and woven leather paired with small iron spikes studding the shoulder lining.

A scar passes down the corner of his lip, long since healed but remaining faded.

“C’mere,” He ushers, voice gruff and rumbling when he unlocks your shackles, big hand pushing you forward up the stairs.

If anybody here had pure Beast in their bloodline, it would be this man. His demeanor is rough, but his touch on your back is surprisingly gentle whilst guiding you upward.

Again you’re granted with the wondrous sight of the Throne Room in all its historic glory, although your gaze directed at the floor keeps you ignorant to so many heads bowed, so many voices cast to silence upon the click of footsteps approaching.

And when you look up, you meet strikingly blue eyes—perhaps a genetic mutation of a sort.

They’re stunning, enrapturing almost, and you find the need to break eye contact immediate, more dire than normal while staring down at you.

Plump, full lips and perfectly sculpted facial features seem that of a Greek god’s, too ethereal to exist in your reality. A glittering, silver crown sits stark atop a black nest of hair.

Either arm rests on the sides of the throne, and you swore you’d never seen someone look so, King-like. That, and the massive cape of wolf-skin draped over his back.

A devil, dressed as an angel.

“Your Highness, this Mage was found near the L/N Kingdom by Hwang Hyunjin and Yang Jeongin while scouting the territory.” A palace-woman announces, the same guard who lingered outside, Minho, standing to your side.

Your blood boils, disregarding every ounce of amazement once inhabited.

It’s him. The man responsible for the demise of loved ones you couldn’t count on all of your fingers and toes.

Minho, as if sensing your frothing rage, mutters through his helmet a staggered warning—remaining upright and unmoving at attention.

“Do not move and do not look into his eyes unless you’re asking for death.”

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

You can’t remember the last time you were genuinely angry. You were happy, surrounded by people you loved.

Those people weren’t here now, they were killed.

“You murderer! You’re a—“ Your attempt at lashing out at the King stalled when Minho kicks the crevice between your knees, forcing you down on the carpet below.

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

Palace representatives gasp their bewilderment, some beckoning you away to the dungeons, others urging Minho to end you right here and now.

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

The King’s raised hand stalls the accusations, his familiar clicking footsteps nearing closer till he stands before you.

Shifting down into a squat, the man tips your chin up to meet cerulean again, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“Don’t get it mixed up little one,” He murmurs, the pad of his thumb controlling your movement.

“I did not kill your family. Your family killed themselves.”

Fist sharply winding around for a punch, he catches it before you can even register your predicament, iron grip strong enough you fear he might just snap your wrist in half.

“And I wouldn’t recommend fighting back, otherwise I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Concluding his threat the further he bends your wrist, you whine, face scrunching from the pain until he finally stops, amusedly surveying your expression.

Denying your own enraged shaking, you suck your teeth, focus vehemently pinned onto him.

“Why would you care about my safety?” You snarl, trying to wriggle his hold off to no avail.

“Because,” The King cocks his brows. “I like you.”

About to spit another word, he interrupts you, index tracing the veins of your arm.

“Plus, I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.”

You shiver.

Your second day and you feel as if you’re officially going insane.

The only person tolerable here is Jeongin, that chamber guard whose name you don’t know, and Felix, the castles cook. You barely see the King, and even when he’s present he’s usually quartered in his study.

What he does there remains unknown, information learned in the mere form of startled maids leaving the room and gossip among those wandering the Kingdom.

“Do you know what he does?”

Felix looks up from the dish he was laying in front of you, wispy blond locks bouncing with the movement.

“Does what?” He piques, ridding a stray piece of hair clinging to your sleeve.

“The King, what does he do all day long?”

One thing about Felix you love, his honesty. Regardless of if most would tell a quick fib and flee, Felix, although occasionally working around a topic, takes the time to actually explain things to you.

Allows you to learn more of the place you’re going to have to call home.

“Hm..” He pulls a chair from your right to drop into, and for a moment, you see Ms. Maewether in that smile of his. Your heart aches.

“Chris— I mean, King Bahng is always busy. He plans trade agreements, oversees the hunts, and basically keeps this castle alive.”

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

Felix nearly squeaks, burying his head in his hands. Evidently, you weren’t supposed to hear that part, but an eagerness to know more about this solitary King kept your hesitance at bay.

“That’s his name. Christopher Bahng, but you’re not allowed to call him that and not allowed to tell anyone about us having this conversa-“

“Tell who?”

You quite literally almost fall backwards in your seat, failing to anticipate the pair of hands placed on Felix’s shoulders.

A pair of hands, followed by a pair of ocean blue eyes, boring right into you and the horrified boy in front of you.

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

“Tell who, Felix?” He speaks, tone nothing short of teasing—though the boy looks just as startled, practically sweating through his clothing.

Still adorning that flanking wolf-cape of his, his dark hair is slightly messy, expression distorted curiously.

You hate him to admit, but King Bahng is horribly attractive.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, Your Highness,” Felix chirps, fixing you with a ‘Don’t say a word’ glare you cease to argue with.

Rising up from your seat quickly as if you had any duties in this Kingdom to tend to, you find yourself stalling.

You have so many questions. …And the overwhelming urge to slap him across the face.

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

The last words come out involuntary, used to referring to your own father this way. It made you sick to know you regarded his murderer the same.

And though the King didn’t stand extremely tall (considering how young Beasts were already your height), his hulking stature felt as if it could swallow you whole, pointed canines flashing when he smiled, sending your head reeling.

Pleased.

King Bahng was pleased hearing something nonthreatening come out of your mouth.

Vile.

Yet, you simply curtsied and hurried off, ceasing to notice the immediate growl Felix directed in the King’s direction.

“Good lord, I know she smells good but you’re practically undressing her with your eyes,” The freckled boy grumbles, returned with an uninterested expression from his friend.

Before the King can head off to whatever meeting he has planned, however, he spins on his heel.

“Have you consulted Seungmin about the scent-blocking salve?”

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

“If there is one Mage left, it’s mine. And since she’s the survivor, she’s mine.”

Yeah, he’s not beating the possessive allegations. But if he’s going to gain your trust, and eventually, after much thought, become mates, he’s keeping every other Beast in the Kingdom at a distance from you at all times.

“Jeongin will report when it’s completed. And Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

And with that, Felix follows your exit, leaving the King to his own devices, your nectar-sweet smell lingering in his nose.

“If I stare at the same wall for hours and hours, shouldn’t it break by now?”

“You’re a Mage, not telekinetic,” Han replies, repetitively scanning over a piece of parchment assumed to be a guest list.

In the midst of your incessant boredom, you found yourself following the King’s Advisor around, peering over his shoulder at the endless list of haughty names written in languid ink strokes.

Amongst them, you ceased to find your father’s name. You knew it wouldn’t be there, but somehow, you wished if you blinked enough it would magically appear.

King L/N, written in that same, cursive font.

Rounding a corner, you conclude if there’s anyone you avoid more than King Bahng (a.k.a Chris), it was Hyunjin. That man was a serpent in a Beast’s body.

Catching sight of his dreaded ponytail, you hastily retrace your steps, hiding behind a massive doorframe while Han stares at you as if you’re a rodent scurrying at his shoes.

“He won’t bite y’know.”

“If only you would’ve been there when he first found me,” You whisper angrily, practically clawing at the wood desperately till he leaches you out.

Leaching enough, in fact, that you end up right in Hyunjin’s line of sight, who surveys you up and down with a cocked brow to the point you’re sure steam is billowing from your ears.

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

He does bite. He sinks his teeth into the flesh and tears.

You won’t bleed without biting back.

Han’s iron grip tightens on your arm as slowly, oh so slowly, Hyunjin walks closer.

The strategist prowls, edging right up in your face—noses a thread-width apart.

His glower sets your fury alight, lips curled in a deriding notion.

“No need to glare, wouldn’t want wrinkles ruining that face of yours.”

“No need to get so close unless you plan to kiss me, mutt.”

Though, just as Hyunjin preapres to lunge, a big hand holds him back, animal fur cuffs indicating it isn’t the King who stepped in.

The man who had fetched you from the chambers earlier divided either of you. Shorter, but evidently stronger.

“Control yourselves, both of you. For as long as she stays in the Kingdom, she’s The King’s property—“

“I am no one’s property,” You snarl, and the guard turns.

Basked in clear lighting, you can finally see him. Honing dark brown hair hanging above his eyebrows, the same scar resides by his mouth, though, his eyes are much kinder than you expected.

Taking a slow inhale, he reads your conflicted expression like an ornate mirror.

“One mage in the Kingdom of Beasts? Sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are his property. So as long as she’s here, nobody lays a finger on her, understood?”

Glancing to each person, either of them ease their apprehension, the bewildered Jisung next to you stifling a breath, Hyunjin rolling his eyes with a loud huff.

Baiting seconds pass, and in that period of time do you realize you never caught his name. Specifically, the guard’s name.

“Excuse m-“

“Seo Changbin,” Han interjects. “His name is Seo Changbin.”

Ah. Right.

Now on the roster of least-likely to kill you, Jeongin, Changbin, Felix, and Han.

Filled with a need to evade, you stand merely as a spectator as each horridly red hue snaps to stare at you, your heart spiking an alarming rate.

The King’s Advisor’s fingers tighten to the point you’re sure he’s blocking blood flow.

“You need to leave. Jisung, get in contact with Seungmin and see when the salve is done,” Changbin instructs, already shoving Hyunjin away.

Salve. What salve?

Failing to give you any explanation, you’re dragged off, boisterously complaining before the highly annoyed man abruptly pauses, finger nudging your forehead irritably.

“You smell.”

Then he leaves, and you’re left to wonder if you’re still in primary school or the Kingdom of Beasts.

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

First thing in the morning, you’re torn from your slumber with a blazing sun scorching your eyes.

Your canopy beds silken drapes doing little to block the attack, you whine to an apologetic Jisung who merely sighs in return.

“Sorry sleeping beauty, but we have an appointment to attend this morning. Can you handle getting dressed on your own?”

You roll your eyes, groggily pulling yourself upright. “I was an heiress, not helpless.”

To which he cracks a miniature grin and slips out the door, allowing you to hurriedly strip off your chemise and messily arrange your stays and petticoats.

Out of all things you’d been deprived of, a part of the L/N Clan unable to be divided was your garments.

Somewhere, in the midst of fabric and citrus scented soap, you swear you can still smell bits and pieces of home.

What this appointment entailed you failed to ask, gingerly hustled down winding hallways barely illuminated with sunlight.

The Kings Advisor expertly winds further and further down, georgian architecture littered in symmetrical golden portraits and decorum, casement glass windows twinkling as you walked past.

Having reached a dead end, you’re pleasantly surprised to watch Han jar a brass doorknob open, paving a breathtaking view of the garden ahead.

Garden had to be an understatement. This amount of foliage was nothing short of a forest.

Flowers of all kind surround your walk to a shrouded greenhouse, abnormally brick relative to it’s stone-castle counterpart. Its walls are overgrown in slithering vines, door nearly invisible without proper inspection.

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

Granted, it’s been years since you’d seen any form of green vegetation, your astonishment felt justified.

“We’ve arrived.”

Oh how you wish to stay here forever. Not captive by the Beast Clan, no, but in this garden, hidden.

And if the last door took effort to pry open, this was a new challenge entirely. Through thickets of dense hedge and tangled branches, Jisung had to quite literally ram himself into the chittering wood for entry.

“Knock next time would you?” A voice projects from inside, belonging to a man clad in rounded spectacles, a slightly hooked nose, and cleanly hair parted to the side.

The Kings Advisor, apparently having known him, beams his prize-winning smile upon seeing the man.

“Seungminnnn—“ Han drawls out, excitedly waddling over to wrap him in a crushing hug. Stiffly, Seungmin pats his back, an action you fondly watch from afar.

“Ah!” The more ebullient of the two springs up, turning to you. “This is Seungmin, he runs the apothecary here.”

Nodding stiffly, Seungmin ushers you to one of the many mahogany chairs circling a gateleg table; a vase—likely jade with its pale green hue—filled with indigo hydrangea presides in the center.

“And,” Han’s outburst cuts off your awe. “He’s practically my little brother.”

Now you’re in awe again, but for a different reason. And by the evident frown on Seungmin’s face, he can tell.

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

Though, before you can reply, Han slaps his hands on either of the man’s shoulders, expression transformed into one of seriousness.

“About time I left then, yeah?” Was spoken while his form hurriedly retreated out the door, leaving you with more questions than answers to what just occurred.

“..He forgot something again.”

Biting back your laugh, you finally take a seat, given ample time as Seungmin shuffles off to the side to acknowledge your everything to its fullest extent.

Matching the plant-infested interior, verdant drawers scatter the corners, a lone, looming medicinal cabinet left ajar as the chemist poured over a variety of assorted concoctions.

Air stained with a damp smell of earth, you notice, much to your curiosity, the longevity of such a place.

This apothecary, though inside the castle, feels like an entirely new settlement of its own. An establishment existing before the war, rebuilt (inefficiently) enough to where it was only required to stand stable.

From first sighting you’d grown an attachment to it, but this newfound understanding, these newfound details setting the apothecary apart from your predicament let you imagine yourself anywhere else, back to a nostalgia you longed for.

A short term fix.

“This.” You’re handed a phial from overhead. It’s a slightly green substance, thicker in texture that rests heavy in your hand. “Is for you.”

Slipping across from you, he surveys your analyzing, arms crossed over a deep brown waistcoat.

“And this is..?” You inquire, looking up from the cork-sealed glass.

“A salve. You had better not waste it, material is low as is and I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.”

Well that didn’t answer your question. You’ve heard conversation about a specific salve for days on end, but no genuine explanation caved in—

‘I’ve been waiting years for this winter to end already.’

Repeatedly mulling over the words, you can practically feel your heart palpitating, head beginning to spin.

..End already? The endless winter.. ending?

“So you’re saying,” You murmur, placing down this special salve in order to truly regard him.

“There’s a way to end the Endless Winter?”

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

“There’s an end to everything sweetheart. Life, death. Start, finish. War,” He meets your eyes with a conniving grin, a face you hadn’t seen on the man before.

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes.

Peace? Peace when there was no peace left to be made, no kingdom remaining to make peace with?

“And how do you think the nonexistent Mage will make peace with Beasts?”

Seungmin grins.

“Well there is a Mage left,” He scornfully states, flicking your forehead whilst you palm the sting, frown evident.

“And as far as making peace goes, marriage.”

Marriage.

What.

“Wait- so you’re telling me big bad King Bahng could’ve just hooked up with a Mage and called it a day and everything would be fine?”

Seungmin clears his throat.

“One, Bahng doesn’t ‘hook up’. Two, it’s not as easy as that.”

Of course it’s not as easy as that. Why would it be?

You wish to claw your eyes out of your head, anticipating his explanation.

“Because if you weren’t aware before, marriage ties between Mage and Beast are very difficult to establish. Bahng is picky on everything, and even pickier when it comes to mates.”

But before you can argue there were thousands of suitors roaming the L/N Kingdom for him to pick from, Seungmin interrupts.

“Plus, if anyone else were King I’m sure we would’ve had peace decades ago. You’re lucky you’re in the castle right now, otherwise you would be eaten alive.”

Your face scrunching worriedly, he rakes an exasperated hand through his hair, plopping down on the vanity’s chair.

“Your scent.”

Again, you’re reminded of Han’s ‘you smell’ comment. Why is it showing up a second time?

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

“Mage have specific scents. You can’t smell it since you’re not Beast. But let me tell you, you smell fucking delightful.”

Oh.

That’s what he meant by eaten alive, and the entire ‘you smell’ conundrum.

Seungmin, rather entertained with the shock written on your face, shrugs his shoulders, nonplussed by the crassness of his earlier statement.

“Now you get the use of the salve, right? And why you’re not allowed to leave the castle?”

Your mouth feels dry of response, beckoned toward the exit without so much as a peep passing through your lips.

However, right as the you’re halfway gone, he stops you, brows cocked.

“Do us all a favor and marry him, will you?”

And like that, the apothecary’s door thumps closed behind you.

If only the “him” he was referring to wasn’t King Bahng, you might’ve agreed.

Marriage in the L/N Kingdom had been a sacred event.

An event you’d been prepared for since childhood, fed daydreams of a day you would be married to a prince-like man with perfect features and a perfect personality, every element fabricated from a young age.

Truly, you loved it. Loved visualizing a life shared with your loved one, whoever that man would be.

Little did you know he might just be King of the Beast Clan.

No. You refused. Marrying a murderer, the murderer of your family, was the last thing you would oblige to.

He sent the command, he led the attack, and you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction of marriage.

Although, one problem. Similar to life back at the L/N Kingdom, supplies only lasted for some time before shipments became low, and pretty soon (according to Seungmin) the salve you were given would run dry.

Meaning, your meager chance of protection lay completely exposed, susceptible to any Beast daring enough to try something.

Two sides of a coin remained. Heads, you marry the murderer of a King and spring returns, or tails, you abstain and are eventually left vulnerable.

You’ve always been the person to confront a difficulty head-on, but, in this case, a different, defensive approach crossed your mind.

Run away.

Despite Seungmin’s sensible reminder to not leave the castle, what other option sounded suitable?

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison.

Or maybe, never drink the poison in the first place. Evade.

Three days have passed since you received the salve, and after applying it behind your ears and between your elbows at dawn, you were free to do as you pleased—within the castle walls.

Yet, tomorrow’s dawn would be divergent. Tomorrow, you would be days away from the Beast Clan.

Sneakily roaming around, you managed to find certain outlets to your disposal. Nearby the chambers you’d been kept in was a moth eaten, hooded cloak seemingly unworn for quite awhile. Ideal for an anonymous escape.

Furthermore, amongst the colloquy during a dinner with Changbin and Felix in the Great Hall, you distinctly recall overhearing information about the stables.

If you were to flee, you needed a horse, and thanks to the guard, you knew right where to find one.

Unable to sleep the night before, your dry eyes blink through the dense darkness, sweeping the candlestick from your side table for a minimal source of vision.

Lathering a copious amount of salve all over your skin, you slip down the winding stairwell, grateful for the shadowed moonlight gazing down upon the Throne Room as you venture.

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

Sweeping the fabric over your shoulders, you slip the hood over your head, creeping down the steep steps leading into a surrounding ward.

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors.

Blindly searching, the whinny of a mare alerts your close distance, carefully winding through lead ropes and linked fences to the first horse in sight.

You have to be fast, the sun will rise at any moment it pleases, and it’s impertinent you’re gone by then.

Hoisting a mere saddle pad over the back, you deem the saddle too noisy, slipping the reins overheard and adjusting their length accordingly.

Jogging forwards, you’re brisk to gain a running leap atop the horse prior to the thunder of hooves charging forward.

Closer to the gatehouse you near, a luckily open drawbridge allowing easy passage across.

Faster, faster. You can’t afford to slow down. Daylight is beginning to peer above the horizon, warming your back with rays of sunlight amongst a snowy landscape.

And when the kingdom wakes up, it’ll be as if you were never there.

But, an undecided factor stayed. Where would you go? There was no kingdom left for you, no home to go to.

For now, you needed to prioritize finding a hiding spot, if only for a night, that supplies warmth.

Given the opportunity, too long out here and you or your horse will indefinitely succumb to the frigid conditions.

Veering off sharply, you sidle beneath a barren magnolia tree, its thick trunk barely blocking the unforgiving wind. Pretty soon you’ll have to keep on, but for now, you’ll savor the temporary peace.

Blue skies indicate it must be nearing morning, and you assume the castle will be slowly waking up. By now, King Bahng would likely be awake as well, you’ve been told he doesn’t sleep well anyway.

Scouts. He’ll send scouts most likely. Knights like Minho or Hyunjin.

Ugh, the mere thought of Hyunjin finding you a second time makes you nauseous.

Except, the longer you consider it, King Bahng is the worst case scenario.

I could break you any time I wanted, Mage. So behave.

Those words send an entourage of chills slithering up your spine, and not from the cold.

Because while Hyunjin is a type of spiteful strong you want to avoid primarily due to how annoying it is, King Bahng is a quiet strong, the kind that wouldn’t confess his anger, but have you witness it firsthand instead.

Enough thinking. You have to go.

Using the bumpy roots below you for leverage, you wind a leg around the horse’s back, aiming to reach the edge of the territory before midday.

That was the goal, until you’re pummeling to the ground.

The moment is instantaneous, your horse releasing a shriek as it’s swiped right off its feet, slipping onto hard, icy ground and simultaneously crushing you in its descent.

Almost like vomit you feel the screech of pain building in your throat, a numbness in your right leg along with the warmth of blood soaking your clothing doing little to sustain level breathing.

Then, in the midst of your hysterics, you look upon the visible side of your horse, a pair of claw marks scratched right across its stomach.

Scrambling out to the best of your abilities, you bite your tongue, praying this is one of Hyunjin’s sick, sadistic games and not an obvious ambush.

You refuse to die like this. You’ve survived once and you’ll be damned to give up now.

“I’m impressed. You’re not as weak as I thought.”

A sneering tone speaks from behind you. According to the claw marks, Beast, but not one you remember. And with your current state—being unable to rise to your feet—you’re utterly incapable of ascertaining an identity.

Instantly, your hand reaches up to trace the alcove beneath your ear and neck, any ounce of hope disappearing upon feeling for the salve.

Gone.

“Now, care to tell me what a Mage is doing in Beast territory?”

He’s hiding behind you on purpose, drawing you into a sensory overload, a panicked frenzy of adrenaline and fear.

Deer caught in headlights.

A curved claw unlike those in the Kingdom of Beasts winds your head back, staring straight into the face of something you can hardly deem Beast, more like wolf.

He has this terrifying look in his eyes, and breath that stenches of metal and flesh.

This man is the kind of Beast you’d grown up believing in. Violent, merciless.

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please.

As if second instinct, you assess everything around you, snatching the closest stick to you and jarring the sharp end through the bottom of his chin with all your might.

A gagged, sort of howling sound emits from above you, putrid-smelling blood spraying all over your face.

In split seconds does another form appear in your peripheral, your dread heightening before ultramarine stills the horror in its tracks.

King Bahng.

He’s quiet, expertly slicing the back of the neck, the attacker dropping to the ground motionlessly.

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

If the first Beast hadn’t killed you, he certainly would. He said it himself, whenever he pleased, he could break you.

So when King Bahng’s arms extend toward your position on the ground, you prepare for the worst, crawling backwards as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, he kneels down in front of you, and, as your vision clears, you notice the concern written on his face.

Weird, the feeling compiling in your gut as he looks at you like that. The way your eyes build with tears, lungs finally hacking for as much non-congested air available without a single word said.

Just by his expression alone, you’re a fit of blood and tears, the aftershock hardly helping ease the experience.

Crying, in the middle of a forest, with King Bahng as a witness.

“I know, I know,” Is all he whispers, and you barely recognize when he hoists you into his arms, the searing sting of your leg your only indication of movement.

Smoothly maneuvering you again his chest, he cradles your body close, one hand directing his horse as you ride back to what you assume to be the Kingdom.

Through the aching pain, you can’t even be upset about returning, merely focusing on the subtle warmth of his body and the strength willing you to say something.

“You speak nothing of this moment,” You murmur, the King’s body erupting into a tremor of laughter.

“I speak whatever I like whenever I like, sweetness. No one touches what’s mine, yeah?”

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you.

Yet, your snarky remarks are depleting in tandem with your energy; the soothing, shushing sound he’s making and the repetitive thump of hooves doing little to keep you from sleeps tempting beckon.

Eyes drifting closed, his tightened grip pulls you closer, your cheek smushed into the fabric of his coat whilst lost in slumber.

“Hold on a bit longer for me, we’ll be there in no time.”

Recovery, to your luck, is swift. Either that, or Kim Seungmin is secretly a Mage, because within a week spent off your leg, you’re back to normal.

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

Initially, despite the agony blazing through your body, you were thankful you barely recalled seeing anyone, swept into the apothecary immediately.

The last thing you wanted to see after returning would be the faces. Plus, what about your friends? Jeongin, Felix, Han? You’re sure they looked destroyed.

Except, it’s all fake. A feign kindness given to you only by sympathy. What do the faces matter anyway?

You gorge that question to the very back of your throat when said Cook walks through the apothecary’s door, utmost apprehension apparent. He grabs your face, brows knit—but not in an angry sort of way, more like staving-down-tears.

“Don’t you ever do something like that ever again.”

Past him, you can’t help but smile seeing Seungmin’s softened expression watching Felix, adoring his preciousness just as you are.

“I promise.”

Nodding curtly, he turns around, leaving you to view the many ingredients scattered across his apron.

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Craning, you can barely make out his deep voice, lowered to a nearly inaudible decibel. Ears flushed pink, you’re filled with a worrisome amount of happiness seeing Felix’s embarrassment trying to maintain an upset facade.

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

“I said I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

Precipitously slipping outside, both you and Seungmin are left to stifle your bubbling laughter, graced with the most appetizing platter you’ve had the pleasure of eating a few minutes later.

However merciful those first few days were, dissipated. And in a short amount of time, you could feel the eyes boring into your back, the questions resting on the tip of tongues.

All the same, nobody mentioned it. And if anything, that made the paranoia grow.

It was gradual. The subtle shadow you swore you saw in corners, the terror stopping your heart in your chest when you swear someone breathed down your neck.

Your body may be healed, but your mind certainly isn’t.

To a degree that two weeks later, you’ve found sleep nearly impossible, lingering in the kitchen in the wee hours of morning, teetering on your wits end.

Some occasions it’s Felix who you see first, wiping the sleep from his eyes, loading coal into the furnaces to heat the kitchen for the day. Other days it’s handmaids, shuffling around busily, carrying goods to and fro.

This time, Minho arrives first, for once wearing regular clothing opposed to his usual armor, steaming saucer in clutch.

Perhaps this is an opportunity, he is a knight after all.

“Hey Minho?”

Tired eyes sweep to your figure on the table, the rim of his cup held to his lips.

“I’m too paranoid and at this point I might die of sleep deprivation,” You huff, referring to his raging, bed-headed self . “…Could you teach me how to use a sword?”

He’s staring at you like you‘ve grown two heads, pulling a chair back to settle in, arms crossed over his chest.

No sentences need to be said aloud, merely spectating the gears turning in his head enough to set your nerves on edge.

Yet, in the midst of your waiting, you note a peculiar bruise peeking from his collarbone, another lingering a tad bit lower.

“And you think a sword is going to protect you?”

The question is genuine, lacking the bemused nature you were expecting.

Another thing you’ve noted throughout your sleepless nights was the continuous amount of times you’d watch the King’s Advisor sneak into his quarters, a realization keeping your response baited.

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

“Hey, those marks on your neck and shoulder, are those from Ha—“

“When do you want to train.”

All lightheartedness vanishing, you have to chew your lip to avoid ticking him off further by giggling.

“Tomorrow?”

Pushing in his chair with an agreeable hum, you merely whisper a hurried “Thank you” he grunts at, rushing off to who knows where and giving you leeway to recover from the hilarity of it all.

Tomorrow, however, came far too early, not anticipating to be woken up at the crack of dawn, grumpy enough the prospect of blackmailing the King’s Advisor became dangerously tempting.

Yeah, good luck. He’s not budging until you’re on your feet.

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

Rushed into a loose gown, you’re led to the Inner Ward, an open sector in the middle of the castle.

Upon being met with a too-smug Minho, you can practically see the word “payback” hovering above his head, busying himself with fetching supplies.

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

Except, you’re puzzled. You’re being taught how to deul, yet your teacher isn’t adorning armor nor gear of any kind.

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

“First, we learn how to properly move.” He hands you a wooden sword. “If I so much as leave a scratch on you I’m as good as dead.”

Again, he may appear snarky, but his tone is nothing short of serious. Minho is hard to read.

Wait.

Seeing past your panic, the Beast seems to answer your unspoken question.

“King Bahng is visiting the villages today, he won’t be back till the evening.”

A wave of relief grounds your bones, standing rather pathetically while Minho aids in critiquing your position, instinctively shifting into his own in front of you.

“Now, there are a lot of things to consider when dueling. I’ll narrow things down. Don’t overestimate or underestimate your opponent, trust your gut, be aware of everything, and lastly, do not be afraid to deceive.”

Promptly, he’s lashing out before you can even process his advice, wooden weapon drawn above his head as your grip tightens, attempting to block the strike only for his foot to press into your stomach, sending you falling right onto the ground instead.

“Isn’t that unfai—“

“Like I said, deception is your greatest weapon. In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.”

He reaches a hand out for you to take, helping you back up again only to both fall back into your stances.

“Keep in mind, your sword isn’t your only weapon.”

Minding his instruction, you continue onward, sparring heartily till the beating afternoon sun becomes too hot to bask in any longer. Amongst the four hours you had been consumed in training, you’ve snagged certain valuable points.

Calmness is crucial. Your mind streams clearer when you parried, void to the opponent’s increasing frustration—given an advantage of both agility and focus.

Two, unpredictability is a gift. Minho is especially good at being unpredictable.

Whether he charges headfirst or aims the forte of his sword toward particularly weak points, you begin to mimic his performance, growing closer and closer to conquering those signature tactics.

Of course, your enjoyment can only last for a bit before it spoils.

Spoiling as in, Hwang Hyunjin’s random appearance, sauntering into the area as if he’s King himself.

“Well look at this, didn’t think I’d see our runaway and Minho here.”

There’s an air between Minho and Hyunjin, one that forbids Hyunjin from egging his superior on, just like when you were first brought to the Kingdom. Lucky for you, you could be degraded as much as he approved of.

Feigning a dramatic gasp, he gestures to either wooden sword held in raw palms.

“No way, you’re learning how to deul?! Don’t tell me you’ve never learned basic attacks? Oh right, you never had to fight, huh, princess?”

You bite the skin of your cheek, minding your composure.

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it.

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

Keeping Minho from intervening, you apologetically nod to his disproving expression. He knows it’s stupid, even while fetching his armor and adjusting the metal plating to your body, and you do too, but you can’t afford to back down, you won’t.

Testing your abilities carrying a legitimate sword this time, Minho grants Hyunjin a terse scowl, their own wordless agreement to tone down on anything too harmful.

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

Straight away, he charges his right foot forward, the metal colliding with a loud ring, narrowing your body to shield your unprotected side.

Hyunjin, though skillful in his wrist mobility, clearly uses his size compared to you as an advantage, carelessly throwing around his jabs whilst relying on form alone.

You shuffle back and forth continuously, the commotion of metal rifle drawing the attention of Beasts alike throughout the castle, stopping their movements to survey.

Lurching himself forward once more, you will your legs to support you, balancing the crushing force of his pushing ascent with as much strength as possible.

“If you win, you get whatever sensible award you want,” He grits, using pure weight alone to gain higher vantage. “But if I win, you marry King Bahng.”

Suddenly, interrupting your stunned reaction to his proposal, Minho’s reminder breaches your eardrums.

Deception is your greatest weapon.

Honestly, you’re bewildered Hyunjin hadn’t played petty thus far, and you have no doubt he will any moment now.

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

Maintaining your gaze targeted on his face, you steal the chance, slipping your sword right beneath his feet, hooking the guard just fast enough to cause his legs to buckle.

The tip of your sword centimeters from his neck, you cock your brows, finding satisfaction in the glare he’s boring into your skin from his spot on the ground.

In a game of swords, it doesn’t matter how dirty it’s won, it matters who won.

“If King Bahng wishes to marry me, he will deul me himself. That decision isn’t up to you.”

Stalling his immediate laughter upon nudging the sharp point right up against his pulse point, you chuckle.

“I might have to do this more often, you’re not bad when you shut your mouth for once.”

Dropping your sword, you reach out a customary hand he rejects, either of you following Minho to the side stalls to return his armory before a haunting voice stops you in your tracks.

“One more match?”

You’d been ignorant to the Kingdom’s sudden burst of energy, the trembling chains of the drawbridge dropping onto cobblestone ground, the gates shifting open.

Having appeared through thin air stands King Bahng, constantly arriving at the worst of timing.

He’s clad in traditional armor, though his has fancier plating, cleaner sheen, azure hues hidden within the gorget.

Your stomach ties itself into a knot, piecing together the details.

“If this is about the deal, I don’t think I-“

“Oh please princess, this was never up to you. We did this for the sake of the Kingdom, you think we ever considered your say in this?” Hyunjin interjects, quickly escorted away by a frowning Minho and an additional guard you don’t recognize.

Huh?

What… What is he talking about? For the Kingdom? What does he mean for the sake of the Kingdom?

Do us all a favor and marry him, will you? Seungmin’s words ricochet in your skull, the parts assembling perfectly into place.

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage.

They knew all along. They knew you were set to marry him and yet, no one told you.

If your betrayal had been violently inflicted, you would look like a rag doll. All this time, these moments you thought were glee-filled, hopeful.

Lies.

Tearing the King’s chance to speak from his fingertips, you pick up your sword, denying your shaky, white knuckles and replacing those broken feelings with rage instead.

No, you can’t afford to show weakness. You must replace these feelings as quickly as possible.

No weakness, no mercy.

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

“Pick. Up. Your. Sword. And fight me.”

Releasing a sigh, he cautiously pulls his own sword from its sheath, waiting to be counted off unlike Hyunjin.

However skillful you’d been before had completely vanished. Though, you would give yourself the benefit of the doubt, this fight meant your future, meant the minuscule bit of freedom you’d gotten to experience here.

The last thing you wished was to realize you had been lied to, but even more so to realize you’ve been lied to in front of the entire Kingdom, curious faces peering from the castle’s allures.

Your swings sloppy, you credit the severity of the blows as you attack and defend, evidently dueling with fatal intent.

You’ve lost this battle, you know it. Your senses are too overwhelmed to assess spatial awareness, and every muscle in your arm cries out for relief.

Swept off of your feet in a repeated cycle to earlier, you accept, sitting below the tip of King Bahng’s sword, your defeat.

Almost automatically, the pieces of pride you’d attained after your victory against Hyunjin amounted to nothing.

You may beat everyone else, but you will never beat this man, now matter how hard you try. The odds will always soar in his favor, and you will suffer the results of it.

This is not a game you’ll win. Because from the beginning, you existed as a marionette, enjoying such naivety till the comprehension as to who controlled the play hit you.

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

If your insomnia before was grueling, this was an entirely new extreme.

Averaging a meager two hours per night, you’re positive you’ve memorized the guest list by heart, staring blankly at the crinkled parchment, unblinking.

In a matter of days, the congratulatory ball will be held.

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

Weeks ago, the guest list had simply been a past time, a mandatory errand for the King’s Advisor, a ball you weren’t aware, and wouldn’t be aware, was meant for you.

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty?

Yes. Empty is the word. An emptiness gutting you from the inside, the ugly drawback of exhausted options and worthless optimism.

There’s a lot of things to ponder on as well, factors you have to analyze, ensure it wasn’t another stage for an audience you so foolishly performed.

No escape.

Tuesday, two days before the ball, Jeongin drops by your door, carrying a package under his arm and that effortlessly adorable smile gracing picture-perfect features.

“This is for you, from.. um..” The anxious boy stammers, placing the binded package on your room’s veneer.

“You can say his name, Jeongin, I’m not mad.”

He exhales audible relief, slender fingers wrapping around your hand before you can bid him farewell.

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

You force a tight grimace, agreeing despite your contradicting expression.

Perhaps he is, perhaps he isn’t. You don’t know what to believe anymore.

Slipping from bed once the young boy’s footsteps fade in the distance, you gingerly unwind crimson ribbon, allowing the leather exterior to unfold.

Inside lies a gown.

A gown that, investigating how breathtaking it is, should be considered nothing short of a ball gown the longer you stare.

Designed as a mantua, the white fabrics paired with lace neck frill and engageantes add an elegance you’ve never seen before. Light, subtle blue hides beneath ruffles of the skirt, further accented by equally blue lace strings fastening the back together and outlining the seam of your square-cut stays.

You can only marvel at the gift given by your future husband, wishing so terribly you could simply run into his arms and pretend everything was well.

If only it was under better terms, as if nothing had happened. If King Bahng was another man, it’d be possible.

And Wednesday night, the root of your problems bares his face, knocking at your door while you were under the impression it was Han instead.

Acting as if you didn’t care was much easier around everyone but him, especially when you were halfway into tying the laces of your dress, the dress he had purchased for you.

What awful circumstances.

“Don’t touch me,” You hiss, regarding the man across from you with a frown.

Lifting either hand in the air, he seemingly invites you to figure out the impossible strings yourself, cueing a very aggravated, very futile attempt at tightening the ties of your ball gown before (hesitantly) allowing the man to slip behind you.

Of course you had to choose now to try it on.

His touch irritably careful, he ensures the fabric is snug fitting but breathable, each woven thread in its coordinating pattern.

Where he learned this you have no idea, only aware of how horrific this close proximity is, your restlessness growing unbearable.

Running his tongue over his top teeth, he backs up slightly, taking you in with apparent speechlessness.

He clears his throat.

“I won’t apologize because I know it means nothing to you, but please, let me explain. I intended to tell you, I just-“

He sounds timid, like a child.

A sour, bitter fury froths like bile in your throat. You want to explode.

“No. No. I didn’t want this! I won’t!” You wind around, pointing an accusing finger to his chest. “You killed them all, my family, my loved ones, children. I hate you. I hate you!” Your voice breaks, a gravelly, disgusting drawl raking your throat raw. Salty, burning tears drip down your collarbones.

Grievance. An innumerable stage of sadness you hadn’t reached before now, overflowing.

As he tries calming you down, you only grow angrier, pushing from your path to the door, ripping the handle awry.

Instantly, his arms wrap around your middle, hauling you back as you kick and scream, fingernails digging into any available skin, dress puffing as your legs flail.

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

You’re certain the entire kingdom can hear you, but that’s the last concern occupying your headspace, too focused on escaping, far off as you had done earlier, anywhere but here.

“Stop crying,” He commands, either hand on your wrist pinning your back to the bed, expression morphed pitifully. His calloused hand swipes the storming rivulets from your cheeks.

“Please, Y/n, please stop crying. It hurts.”

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

“It hurts..?” You murmur, eyes shifting over his face. “…You hurt?”

Incessant crying causing your skin to burn, he only blinks at you.

A fit of anger forms just as fast as it disappeared in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re hurting? You’re the sick son of a bitch that killed my family and took everything I’ve ever loved away, you don’t deserve to hurt!”

Sucking in a necessary inhale, you angrily flail, wrinkling your nose at the careful tilt of his head, the distance of his face from yours, every scar, every pore close enough to see.

What happened to the King who threatened to break you? Why is he pitying you, looking at you with such kindness?

Longing to bring up how useless the deal was, how the benefits of the marriage aren’t your responsibility, you simply glare, emotions a whirlwind you can’t explain, can’t say aloud.

And all he does is stare. Staring like you’ve said nothing at all.

You want to cry out, want to curse him for all eternity, curse those blue eyes that seem to pave a pathway through your soul.

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

“Because I’m not fully Beast. My mother was a Mage. She turned against my father after I was born, left us, and vowed to do everything in her power to destroy Beasts.”

Your face contorts nonsensically, his tight hold on your wrists loosening the longer he speaks.

“And I assume,” He redirects your head, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter.

“No one ever told you Mage’s started the war.”

You scoff.

“Or that the Mage planned to cut off all trade supply simply out of spite. And so, I did what I had to—“

“You did what you wanted to. You killed helpless people because of your own problems, my family had nothing to do with it!” Vocal cords throbbing the louder you scream, you try kicking your legs to no avail.

“Your family, Mage, had everything to do with it. My people would have died-“

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

“But I am, so you might as well let me join them.”

He sighs, a stray, obsidian strand of hair hanging over his forehead.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You test the words on your tongue, wedging your hand out to grab his face, feeling the dip of his jaw as he sucks in a breath.

When you first met, he had told you he’d break you. This change of heart confuses you, grates more anger in your chest.

“And why is that?”

Opening his mouth, he momentarily closes it, then opens again, contemplating the statement with caution.

He’s right, in some way.

You’re not supposed to be alive, not supposed to be saddened. You were meant to be in the ground with them, be one of the many bodies littering the L/N Kingdom, granted an eternal sleep.

Yet, you aren’t.

You survived, and you despise this man with every fiber of your being for that.

But things cannot change. You can’t bring them back, and his situation is just as painful as yours.

You both lost people, or, would’ve lost people.

An explanation or an apology, as he said, isn’t necessary.

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

Forcefully grabbing his chin and jutting him closer to you on the bed, your voice drips with venom, noses mere breadth apart.

“Then end this winter and marry me, Your Highness.”

For a split second you swear his gaze drifts to your lips, but you shake the thought away, his sharp canines glinting off the mirrors reflection.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to propose?”

“You killed my family, no need for formalities.”

“Care to remind me why you agreed to marry him? Weren’t you planning to kill him?” Felix piques, apron woven around his thin waist, skillfully measuring flour that’s dusted over his nose.

You needed to get your anger out, then devise a plan. Show King Bahng you weren’t going to succumb to his charms, tricks. Ever.

You hum from your spot on the counter, conversing just as you’d done back in your kingdom with Ms. Maewether.

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

“Oh no, I still plan on killing him, I just want something first.”

Except, you didn’t talk about murder in front of Ms. Maewether. That was new.

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

Snapping your fingers, you cheerily tap your heels against the cabinets below.

“I want to see spring again.”

Silence overcoming the kitchen, it takes Felix a full minute to understand your preposition before bursting into unadulterated laughter. Well, until he realizes. Then he pouts.

“Aw, I was really looking forward to seeing Chris rejected at the altar.” The smaller Beast whines, popping a piece of sugary sweet dough his mouth and handing another to you.

“Hey, now that’s just cruel,” You mumble, muffled by the delicacy you’re currently chewing on.

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

The phrase sounds stupid, but it’s true. Logically, emotionally it’s true. There is a lot in need of discussing.

For now, you’re indifferent.

“I’ve always thought you two were similar.”

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve always wanted to protect what mattered to you most, and maybe, one day, you can understand why he did what he did.”

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

Nevertheless, an invisible barrier rests between you two. A lie. His lie. The Kingdom’s lie.

“Felix, I will never understand why he did it,” You humorlessly chuckle, hopping from your spot. “So tell me, why did you lie?”

All morning you debated the right time to confront him. Tonight was the night, the congratulatory ball, the wedding. Why wait?

Freezing with his back turned to you, he stops mid-slice, dropping the knife atop the cutting board and gradually facing you.

Oh Felix.

His nose flushed pink, lips quivering, you allow him to race forward and hug you, head tucked into your shoulder while you stand there, motionless.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It was decided from the start, but we were told not to tell you, not until King Bahng told you himself.”

You want to tell him it’s okay, make some jokes, act like things are normal. Though your arms stay glued to your side.

“I guess Hyunjin beat him to it, huh?”

His arms tighten around you and, with a sigh, you pat his back, gently nudging him off of you where you can hold that sweet face of his.

“But don’t worry about me, alright? I can handle this, and I forgive you, so let’s move on from this, Lix.” Tenderly rubbing the skin of his cheek, he meekly smiles, an action you can’t help but feel relieved seeing.

You’re strong. You have to be strong. For Felix, for Han, for Jeongin, for your friends throughout the Beast Clan, you’ll be strong. You’ll enjoy wearing the gown regardless of who bought it for you, cherish the wedding no matter the man you’re wedded to.

If you’re going to have to live like this forever, you might as well make the most of it.

On today’s occasion, you’re dressed by a hand maid sent to your quarters, polished and puffed to perfection by the time five o’clock arrives and the banquet officially begins.

And when you see yourself in the mirror, you’re not exactly sure who stares back at you.

She’s pretty, yes, but she isn’t Y/N. She’s a Queen, the Queen of the Beast Clan.

Your stomach wrenches.

By tomorrow, you’ll be married. Married to King Bahng. You will be a wife, the wife of a King just as the L/N Kingdom intended.

The thought continues to plague your mind, sucking more and more oxygen from your lungs that as you’re escorted to the ball room.

You can hardly inhale and exhale normally as Changbin, whom you appreciate enormously, walks you down the aisle, past an abundance of people you’ve never seen before. Beasts, business men, acquaintances alike.

Sensing your panic, your linked arms allow him to spare you a meager glance you anxiously return.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

All previous calmness long dissipated, when you finally redirect your attention from your feet and take in King Bahng waiting at the altar, your rampaging anxiousness increases tenfold.

As the audience claps and either of you turn with your backs facing the crowd, you scorn your lack of a poker face when the King rests a hand on your back.

“Breathe,” He utters, only a whisper you heard.

Wishing to thank him, you bite your tongue, considering the man you’re referring to in the first place prior to replying.

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

Stifling an exhale, you spin on your heel, both bowing to the public before facing each other and holding hands, an action that shouldn’t cause goosebumps to swarm your arms, but does anyway.

“You plan to smash my face in at our wedding?” He murmurs below the customary vows, acknowledging your fingernails digging into his hand.

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

The retort vanishes when he presses his lips to yours, doubling back in shock before his palm on your back keeps you close.

Granting you breathing room if only for an instant, a slow grin tugs at the edge of his lips.

“Then before I die, let me have this first.”

And he dives right back in again, kiss surprisingly tender compared to what you’d expected. Something bruising, dominating.

Instead, the King was soft. Soft as he held your cheek in a hand, soft when pulling you in by the waist.

Separating if only for a fraction of a second, you reach to hold his face, every instinct beckoning you to push him away dissipating into nothing but the nullified drone of your head and the insistent racing of your heartbeat.

“Are you that nervous, pretty? Your heart is-“

You pull him to your lips once more, hating how easy it is to forget, how his lips numb your thoughts—though unable to get enough.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

The guests hollering in your peripheral the lone sound breaching your eardrums, you can’t help thinking.

He did this for his people just as you would’ve done. As for the Mage instigating the war, some secrets shall remain hidden, unable to be answered. You have to accept that among many things.

The King has done nothing but care for you, and as much as you resent him for it, you respect him, if only a tiny bit, as well.

He’s irritable, and not to mention annoyingly handsome. His sympathy-filled eyes might be the death of you, and those dimples of his are stupidly lovable.

But he’s your husband, and somehow, strangely enough, you don’t find yourself hating the thought as much anymore.

Not when he holds you, and especially not when he kisses you as if it’s your last.

After the many hours spent celebrating, you couldn’t have been more enthusiastic about returning to your quarters.

Joined by King Bahng, you find traversing as easy as ever with the help of the (half) Beast behind you, helping navigate past multitudes of people, oddly comforting touch on your back guiding you through the hallways.

Arriving at your room, he pauses, awkwardly shifting his weight on his heels, bewitching gaze flitting left and right, uncharacteristic to his usually smug attitude.

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

You wanted to photograph this moment in your mind forever, debating on whether you should tease him about it, egg the normally stoic King on.

However, you tip his chin down, pressing a chaste, soft peck to his lips, amusedly observing him freeze before melting into your touch.

“Could be better.”

He huffs a sigh in response, and you’re left wondering if this is the same man who threatened to break you, the one who now looks like a pouty toddler.

Although, just as you slip by, he takes ahold of your wrist.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

And, suppressing your chuckle, you close the door behind you.

Hastily undressing into nightwear and slipping into bed, you stare up at the ceiling, hours passing from the ticking of a clock in the corner, echoing around the room.

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

“My gods, what are you doing here?” You whisper into the darkness, the door creaking behind his crouched form, King Bahng’s crouched form.

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that.

Pulling the covers further over yourself, you squint accusingly at the man as he enters, silencing your urge to reprimand he saw you mere hours earlier, presumptuously sitting opposite to you.

He scans what’s visible, fixating on your hand for a moment.

“You kept the ring on?”

Noting the gleaming jewel on your ring finger, you can’t help but feel slightly bashful. It’s not like you’re really married, but the thought sends a sort of satisfaction spreading throughout your chest.

“If I take it off, will it become winter again?”

He grins, giggling childishly.

“Is that the only reason?”

Debating on your response, you wet your lips, looking back up at his barely distinguishable face shrouded in darkness.

You have no doubt he’s thriving off your hesitance.

Oh how badly you wish to wipe that look clean, but in reality, keeping the ring on feels as if a part of you from your own kingdom is with you, similar to your old clothing.

The part of you that, if not invaded, would belong to someone loved, newly wedded.

“No,” You mutter, though the phrase is barely audible.

He perks up.

“Hm?”

You regret saying that. But he’s already heard, there’s no use lying aimlessly.

“I said no, that’s not the only reason.”

“Care to tell me the other reason?”

Rapidly averting your attention to your hand, you discover speaking is easier when not looking at him.

“Keeping it on makes me feel like I’m really in love. I like imagining that, being married.”

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?”

Unlike before, there’s no waver to your voice, no caution.

Winding around to your side of the bed, he settles beside your feet.

You clear your throat.

“I wanted to see spring again, and to you, I’m simply a present. A playtoy to your disposal. This isn’t marriage, not how I was taught, this is just a business arrangement.”

Nevertheless, the hurt leaks into your voice. So long to a resilient tone.

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

Come to think of it, it’s the first time he’s ever called you by your name apart from last night.

Having had enough of his nonsense, you spring for his collar, dragging him below you on the bed. Opposite to earlier, you’re on top this time, you’re in control.

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

“I would deny it a thousand times, but you wouldn’t believe me. And I don’t blame you for that.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I only ask you don’t doubt this marriage. This isn’t a business arrangement, and I will treat you with as much respect and love as possible, even if you don’t want me too. That is what marriage is, how I was taught.”

It’s your turn to inhale, lost within the confines of this dark space.

“Chris, do you love me?”

You both have people you love, people you want to protect, wanted to protect. It wasn’t his intention to hurt you, not when he found you after you ran away, not when ordering a salve to keep you safe, nor now, as you lean above him.

Like he told you. You weren’t meant to survive. You were supposed to be peacefully asleep, forever.

This man, this Mage, this Beast, is as much a murderer as your savior. You choose how to condemn him.

“I do, more than you could ever imagine.”

How can you stay mad at a guilty man, a man who kept you alive when you were on the brink of death? Who now professes to loving you, wanting to give you a marriage you’d been cheated of, give you everything you’ve been cheated of with everything in his power.

Hovering right by his lips to the point your chests touch, you place a miniature kiss there.

“I hate you, so much.”

Then another kiss.

His arms, wrapped around your more elevated form, drag you down in an embrace. One hand presses your face to his shoulder, another rubbing circles on your back.

“And I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry.”

Raising up, you can’t contain the tremor of your lip, the way your eyes shakily close shut as you steal a third kiss from his lips, a kiss he returns, hands carefully holding each side of your face.

“Chris?” You manage, currently straddling his lap, his body resting against the headboard.

Kindly, he keeps a palm against your lower back, helping you balance.

“Can you show me what it means to be loved?”

You never understood how a person could melt until this moment. He wears that look again, like in the forest. The look that makes you cry.

What love looks like for Christopher Bahng, you don’t know. You have no doubt there will be ugly moments, moments you’ll reconsider, rethink.

You’re both hurt, some wounds still hurting. But for him, for you, you’re willing to take that chance.

“I’d be honored.”

FIC TAGLIST. @stayceebs97 @duhgirl @yourgirljanvi @readr1221 @spearbinnie0327 @hyunjinsartpeice @cheesytangerine @palindrome969 @luminouskalopsia @kiaralynn3838 @chrizztopher97 @starlost-andfound @weeping-angel-in-the-tard1s @zaggprincess2

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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yandere-writer-momo · 21 days

Text

Yandere Fairytale Series:

Rapunzel

Part 1 Part 2

Yandere Witch x Rapunzel Reader x Yandere Prince

Vinicio had finally discovered his princess! He was so thrilled to live out his biggest fantasy of saving a damsel in distress! He’d make sure to pamper you for life once he was able to save you from this tower! But first he had to gain your trust… so he’d be an open book.

Vinicio had kept his promise to you. The lavender haired man smiled below your tower while he’d shout at you so you could hear him.

You genuinely enjoyed his company as he’d share stories with you of his kingdom and about the outside world. Vinicio made you curious of what lies beyond your tower in merely a day.

Vinicio began to visit you for the next two days before he told you he had to return to his kingdom. His company was refreshing and comforting since Hilda had been gone for so many days…

It was the weekend when Hilda returned to you. The young woman shouted for you to let down your hair so she could climb up

Hilda’s arms engulfed your form as she eagerly inhaled your scent. A big smile on her pretty face when she finally pulled away.

“I’m so sorry I took so long. I went a bit further than normal and I brought you a gift.” Hilda reached into her satchel and pulled out a small box wrapped in parchment paper. “It was a little expensive, but I wanted to make it up to you.”

You opened the gift and were in awe of the seashell comb inside the box. The little white comb was covered in seashells and pearls… “It’s beautiful, Hildy.”

Hilda blushed at the nickname before she shyly glanced to the floor. Her green eyes peaked up at your smile while her heart fluttered.

“It’s not as beautiful as you.” The two of you shared smiles before Hilda began to get around to cook with you.

To Hilda, this was the ideal life. To cook and cuddle with the woman she loved as the two of them were far away from civilization. Her mother, Agnes, had handpicked (your name) just for her! You were Hilda’s bride and she’d never let anyone steal you away! Not like your mother was taken from Agnes! No! Hilda wouldn’t let any man in your vicinity! She didn’t want to lose you to childbirth like Agnes lost your mother!!

Agnes had told Hilda of how your mother was her lover before your mother was swept away by a handsome noble who spotted her in the village. Of how that man’s friend sullied Agnes and created Hilda (a fact that didn’t stop Agnes from loving Hilda). Of how Agnes had tirelessly searched for your mother only to be too late… Agnes simply couldn’t bear to leave you in the care of the man who had ripped her lover from her.

Agnes didn’t want Hilda to go through the same pain she did so she used her magic to build this tower. A spell that aged her significantly, but it was worth it so Hilda could be happy. Hilda was so blessed to have Agnes as her mother and you as her lover (a fact you were unaware of). And now Hilda had to magic to protect you! The two of you will never starve or lose one another! Hilda had the abilities to give you a good life.

Yet you didn’t weep like you normally did when she returned from her trips… Hilda observed your chipper form in suspicion. Had you been in contact with anyone else- no. That wasn’t possible. No one has discovered this tower in over twenty years and Hilda would prefer to keep it that way.

It was another month before you saw Vinicio again (luckily when Hilda was gone again). This time the prince brought you a large bouquet of flowers. You believed they were called roses! Except Vinicio had kindly removed each thorn.

Vinicio excitedly chattered away with you as he shared that he was camping nearby in the forest. The prince shared his woes with you. Vinicio had been hounded by his parents to get married since he was the only heir to the throne, but he was insistent to find his own wife. “I want to marry for love, despite that being corny.”

Despite how the warning in men was instilled in you, you didn’t feel like Vinicio was evil. He was rather charming actually and he had such a trust worthy aura. You enjoyed his friendship… yet you were unaware that Vinicio was actively courting you.

It took four more months of Vinicio’s visits for you to lower your hair and let him into the tower to talk. Vinicio always kept a polite distance even as the two of you shared tea. You were so happy to hear about the outside world and be shown the wonderful world of books.

You had to hide your books under your mattress from Hilda (an action you felt guilty to do) but you adored the stories from the words. Why did Hilda keep you away from civilization? It seemed wonderful to be out in the world!

You shared your desire to see the world with Vinicio’s whose eyes went dark as he smiled at you. “If you want to see the world, I can take you. We can see it together.” And you made the mistake of accepting his offer.

Hilda, on the other hand, felt as if she was going insane… at least until she discovered a romance novel under your mattress when she changed your bed sheets. Hilda nearly went ballistic at the novel that detailed the make believe love between a man and a woman. Yet she refrained from acting out on her feelings of betrayal. No… she’d have to punish you.

Hilda wrapped her arms around you as you at the meal the two of you made together. A few tears fell down her face which made you do a double take. Yet you couldn’t even ask her what was wrong before she grabbed the shears off the table.

“I’m so sorry… but you can’t leave.” Hilda began to sob. “Whoever that man is, he is going to ask to marry him and he will take you far away… you will be locked up somewhere else. This is all for your own good.”

Your screams echoed throughout the forest as Hilda chopped off your long locks. The young woman sobbed the entire time as she cut each chunk to a shorter length. You had to learn that you couldn’t leave her. Hilda didn’t want you to suffer the same fate your mother did. This was all for your own good.

When Vinicio came by after a week, he was shocked to not see you greet him right away. “(Your name)? Can you let down your hair?”

He had no suspicions when your long locks were tossed out the window for him to grab. The prince quickly scaled up the tower with a big smile on his face. Today was the day he’d ask you to be his wife… his forever princess.

“(Your name), I was thinking all week about this but I think I’d like to marry you.” Vinicio shouted as he inched closer and closer to the balcony. “I’ll take you far from this tower and we can see the world together. You can have as many dresses as you want and we can eat all kinds of good food! Would you like that?”

Vinicio couldn’t help the dread that began to pool in his stomach when you didn’t respond. Why haven’t you responded? Were you okay?

Yet he was shocked when he came face to face with the wicked grin of Hilda once he reached the balcony. You loudly sobbed as you sat tied up in a chair with your own hair. Your poor hair in a messy, (hair length) style. Was this the witch who kept you locked up? Did she hurt you?

The two stared at each other for a few seconds before Hilda sprang into action.

Hilda’s Ending:

“I won’t let you take her!” The black haired woman threw herself forward and shoved Vicinio off the balcony. The man couldn’t even scream before he fell down the tower in shock.

You began to sob when you heard a loud, wet thud. There was no doubt in your mind that Vicinio had splattered all over the bottom of the tower… a sight you didn’t want to see of your poor friend.

Hilda turned to you with a thrilled look on her face. “He’s gone… we’re safe now. We can be together just like we’ve always been.”

The black haired woman knelt down beside you as she knelt down to cup your tear stricken face in your hand.

“Shhh. Don’t cry. I’ll explain everything, okay?” Hilda pressed her lips against yours in a tender kiss. “It’s better this way.”

Vicinio’s Ending:

Vicinio side stepped Hilda, which caused the young woman to nearly tumble off the ledge. Yet Vicinio had caught her and slammed her head into the balcony, knocking the witch unconscious.

Vicinio quickly ran over to you as he began to untie your binds made from your own hair. Vicinio pulled you into a tight hug as you cried into his chest.

“It’s okay… I’m here now.” Vicinio pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll make sure that witch is punished for her crimes.”

You froze when he said that. Witch? Hilda wasn’t a witch…

You gasped when Vicinio gave you a smile, yet the look in his eyes made your blood run cold.

“I’ll have her burned at the stake for hurting my precious princess.” Vicinio took your hands in his before he pressed tender kisses to each of your knuckles. “We can ride my horse back to my kingdom! I have a small group of my men down below to bring any of your belongings too. I can’t wait to be married!”

You trembled as Vivinio continued to babble on and on about your future marriage. Perhaps Agnes and Hilda had told some truth about men…

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hezzabeth · 6 months

Text

There was someone singing in the greenhouse, someone with a pitch-perfect deep voice. Revati closed her eyes, pressing her ear against the glass door.

In a field where the paper daisies grow,

Underneath the sun's harsh glow,

I wander through, light and free.

Paper daisies, pink and white,

Your petals so bright.

I sing to you as the world beyond burns.

The smoke coils in the sky far above,

But your petals still dance around me.

Don’t be afraid; soon the rains will come.

Everything lost will grow again.

Paper daisies, pink and white,

Your petals so bright.

I sing to you as the world beyond burns.

The stars begin to rise,

My hands scooping your seeds.

Soon you will take flight

Towards the soft moonlight.

There was an old, prop piano in the abandoned Holly Bush Tavern. The only person who could play it properly was Mr. Gupta. During holiday festivals, he would coax melodies out of the sticky keys while Mrs. Gupta sang in a nasal voice. This was different. The singer’s voice filled Revati in a place she didn’t know was empty. The singing stopped abruptly as Revati’s weight caused the door to creak. Of course, the door creaked. The greenhouse was a wobbling claptrap box made out of welded-together old windows. Miss Grassroots, a tourist who had been dead for almost six years, had built it. Inside lay the heart of Baker Street. The heart had begun as a rose garden. Nanni was the one who began picking up the fallen red petals, drying them, and turning them into tea.

Revati only had vague memories of the first day of the invasion. Mrs. Grasston and Dusk had invaded the kitchens and gift shops. Together they managed to pool together seeds and cuttings in order to grow a small food supply. There was a wall of tomato vines, grown from several seeds found in old slices left in the bin. There were the garden beds where the potatoes and carrots grew. In fact, the potatoes were what kept Baker Street from starving to death. Next to one of the largest windows, the herb and weed boxes grew. Revati’s father was the one who ripped open gourmet tea bags in their home, discovering dried seeds inside. Bridgadeiro Bun was sitting under the lemon tree. “You’re a pretty good singer,” Revati said gruffly. “I was just trying to cheer up Deshia; she’s been feeling a bit depressed lately,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree's trunk. “Who’s Deshia?” Revati asked, faintly confused. “The lemon tree, of course! She said nobody's chatted with her for years,” Bridgadeiro said. Suddenly, the tree shook its branches, causing a fresh lemon to fall into Bridgadeiro’s lap. “Thank you for the gift, sweetheart,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree again. Revati stared at the lemon tree, not quite sure what to think. Could a tree really be depressed? It would explain why the lemons were so withered and small.

“All Buns speak plant; it's the same gene that causes our pink hair," he said. Revati glanced around, her eyes briefly falling on the giant pumpkin vine near the door.

"Are the plants talking right now?" Revati asked curiously.

"Most of them fell asleep hours ago. When they were awake, they just kept jabbering on about a golden lady," Bridgadeiro remarked.

"So, the lemon tree is depressed? I could get Aurora to come in here and read to her," Revati conceded.

"It's more than that. She misses the lady who planted her; she doesn't understand why she vanished and never came back," Bridgadeiro remarked. Revati found her hands stroking the book of fairy tales nervously.

"If she's talking about Mrs. Grassroots, she died," Revati replied flatly. Six years ago. Six years ago, there were over a hundred tourists living on Baker Street. Nanni, who had spent years living with mother, insisted on moving into an abandoned hat shop near the edge of the park.

The day the tornado hit was the same day Nanni decided to tell Revati all about her family history.

"I always carry the death stone in my handbag, along with everything else I'd ever need in an invasion," Nanni pointed out. Technically that was true; Nanni's giant handbag was filled with almost anything.

Outside, Revati could hear her father trying to roll down metal shutters. There was the sudden horrible roar, and Nanni's wall exploded in a cloud of rubble.

"A lot of people died," Revati finished, her voice trailing off. First came the tornado that caused a gap in the mirror walls. Then the trickle of automatic vegetable cleaners who decided to exploit the crack. Finally, the battle on Mansfield Park between the cleaners and a group of tourists.

"The lady that planted this tree was actually a member of the Lost Princess rebel army; she convinced a bunch of tourists to fight with her," Revati remarked, shaking her head. Then she firmly opened the book of fairy tales.

"It looks like some people survived," Bridgadeiro replied.

"I don't want to talk about it; I just want to read! Here, you can read with me; you might like this story," Revati replied.

Once long ago, in a lost village near the foot of Mount Raya, there lived a special little girl. She was known for her kindness and her deep love for nature. Everyone in the village called her Naisha. Naisha had a special gift; she could talk to plants. The villagers often saw her whispering to the flowers; they adored her magical gift.

One day, Naisha learned about a legendary tree called the Kalpavriksha. The old ladies in the village whispered that it had the ability to grant any wish. Drought, fearsome and terrible, had swept through the land. Flowers withered, no longer able to whisper. Trees forgot their songs. Naisha decided she must seek out the tree and wish for one thing alone: rain.

"Wake up," a voice screeched, and Revati's eyes snapped open, the book of fairy tales tumbling onto the ground. Aurora was standing above her, the bright morning sunlight making her hair glow.

"Morning," Revati yawned and then jumped when she realized Bridgadeiro was asleep next to her.

Bridgadeiro slowly awoke, smacking his lips together.

"Juniper said you were in here; she never mentioned the boy," Aurora remarked coldly as Revati slowly stood up.

"Anna made him sleep in here; I must have passed out while reading," Revati said.

It was then that Revati realized Aurora was holding a tray filled with fresh strawberries.

"Hmph," Aurora said, shooting Bridgadeiro a suspicious look as he also stood up, patting the tree trunk.

"Let me guess, Queen Victoria sent these with an apology?" Revati asked.

"Yes, and a request to fill her vodka order," Aurora said, placing the tray on the ground.

"If she was really sorry, she'd give us a strawberry plant," Revati pointed out.

"Oh, you don't need one of those! You have the fruit," Bridgadeiro remarked.

"You can't just shove a strawberry in the ground and hope for the best; it rots," Revati replied. Bridgadeiro merely leaned down, examining the strawberries. After a few moments of careful examination, he picked up the biggest, brightest berry.

"You can; you just need the right formula," he said. He vaguely walked towards one of the empty garden beds that was going to be turned into an onion patch. Carefully, he dug a small hole and placed the strawberry inside before covering it in earth. Then, he reached into his massive jumpsuit pocket and this time pulled out a small vial of portable perfume.

"One pump should do it," Bridgadeiro remarked before pumping a cloud of perfume onto the soil. The earth began to twitch and vibrate, and Revati gasped as greenery sprouted from the soil. The plants quivered and then twisted as white flowers bloomed. The petals then shriveled and fell off as the center of the flowers grew into green berries. A few seconds later, the berries blossomed into a deep red.

"They shouldn't be doing that! Strawberries take two weeks to grow," Aurora gasped.

"I suppose they would in the wild, but I just gave them a pump of my Gene Grow fusion serum!" Bridgadeiro said, leaning down to examine the strawberries.

"They should produce fruit every day, but only if you talk to them nicely," Bridgadeiro added as he picked a strawberry and handed it to Revati.

Revati sniffed it suspiciously before taking a tiny bite. It tasted just like a strawberry.

"Does that stuff work on all plants?" Revati asked curiously.

"It tends to go a bit haywire when you spray it on legumes; you end up with giant beans that have no nutrients," Bridgadeiro said.

"I saved your life; think it's only fair you spray all the plants in here," Revati said firmly.

"It would be better if I planted their seeds outside and created new crops; otherwise, the rapidly growing plants could burst outside the walls," Bridgadeiro replied. Revati nodded crisply.

"I'll be sending someone to check on your efforts later today; I'll be far too busy working," Revati replied with as much dignity as she could muster in a sleep shirt before marching out of the greenhouse. The book of fairy tales lay abandoned on the ground.

Revati carefully changed into her work uniform. When she was a child, her wardrobe consisted of souvenir t-shirts from the gift shop fashioned into dresses. Now that she was almost an adult, Revati had to get creative.

Most of the gift shop sweatshirts had been swiped long ago. Instead, Revati put on the top half of the cafe's old uniform. It consisted of a magenta and purple striped waistcoat with a navy blue blouse covered in tiny clocks. The bottom half should have been a matching bustle skirt. Revati switched it with the men's purple trousers. Revati then carefully redid her braid and applied some more soot lipstick. Aurora, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, was waiting for her in the kitchen.

"You're wearing your second best outfit," Aurora remarked.

"I suppose I am," Revati replied as she grabbed her coat.

"I thought you said you were done with romance after that whole mess with Little Hardi last summer," Aurora said, and Revati stopped walking.

"I am!" she protested, and Aurora pressed her thin lips into a disapproving frown.

"You were sleeping with him."

"God forbid I fall asleep next to another human being," Revati said as she marched through the cafe past Nanni, who was sewing something.

"You kept him! You gave him a job," Aurora added knowingly.

"I didn't keep him! He's not a feral child; he can leave whenever he wants," Revati snapped as they stepped outside, and she put on her sunglasses. Olde Landon was always at its worst in the morning. Like all major tourist attractions and cities, Old Landon had an atmospheric blanket high above the park's surface. It meant that nobody in the park froze to death at night, but it also meant the morning light was far too bright.

"Is that Little Hardi and Queen Victoria standing next to the fountain?" Revati sighed wearily.

"They both arrived at sunrise; I told them you were busy, so your mother made them breakfast," Aurora remarked.

"Sunrise; of course, they sacrificed sleep so they could get here first," Revati remarked, marching towards the two other leaders. Queen Victoria was wearing one of the park's costumes, a stained white lace wedding dress. Little Hardi, on the other hand, was wearing a deep blue doublet with a ruff collar and matching tights.

"Little Hardi, is your brother still unconscious?" Revati greeted him.

"We took a vote last night, and he played Macduff," Little Hardi replied.

Revati, who knew fully well what that meant, had to stop herself from flinching.

"You killed him? That's a little harsh," Revati pointed out.

"It was for the best; we need a strong leader during a time of invasion," Little Hardi remarked practically.

"Time of invasion? Isn't that a little dramatic?" Revati had to ask.

"There must be another crack in the wall; thank Jane, it's probably not too big! You two would be far too young to remember the vegetable cleaner invasion," remarked Queen Victoria.

"I was twelve," Revati said dryly.

"I was fourteen; the tornado destroyed the Hamlet's haunted castle ride, and the appliances killed the actor playing Ophelia," Little Hardi pointed out.

"You're both still tiny children as far as I'm concerned; I can't believe this is who I have to work with," Queen Victoria replied, and Revati brushed past her with annoyance, heading to the dress shop across the street.

The shelves of the dress shop had long ago been stripped bare. All that remained were the three Penny Farthing Bicycles that had been part of the shop's window display. Revati wheeled her Penny Farthing outside only to see Queen Victoria having a heated discussion with Aurora.

"What do you mean she's going to ride to the wall by herself? All representatives from all towns should go!" Queen Victoria was screeching, slapping Aurora's shoulder with her fan.

Revati parked her bicycle and marched towards Queen Victoria, grabbing her hand.

"Slap my assistant again, and I'll break your fingers; you know I can do it," Revati growled.

Little Hardi, who was now sitting by the fountain, laughed.

"I was just speaking the truth! We have a treaty; during times of crisis, we unify," Queen Victoria said, her voice tight and a little frightened.

"I don't see Lady Morganna here," Revati pointed out, referring to the ruler of Medieval faire.

"You know perfectly well Medieval faire cut us all off after the tornado hit! They probably all died off years ago," Queen Victoria snapped back. Queen Victoria was right. Medieval faire was located in the center of a massive fake castle complete with a drawbridge. After the invasion, Lady Morganna had yanked up the bridge and refused to speak to anyone. Anna and Nanni had tried to visit several times with baskets of dried lemons. They were horrified when someone from above threw the contents of their toilets onto the streets.

"My new friend said he saw naked people in the wilderness dancing around a murdered television! Sounds like Lady Morganna to me," Revati merely replied, pointing to Bridgadeiro. Bridgadeiro, who was in the middle of taking several pumpkins out of the greenhouse, waved.

"Could be a coincidence; regardless, you are not going to the wall! We need to have a proper group committee meeting first! Then a vote," Queen Victoria's.

Revati just rolled her eyes and released Queen Victoria's hand, causing her to stumble and fall onto the floor. Revati then reached into her jacket, pulling out her stun gun, shoving it into the queen's stomach. The Queen made a faint whimpering sound as her eyes rolled backward, and she collapsed again. Revati then aimed the gun at Little Hardi, who held his hands up, protesting.

"I'm not going to stop you! I came here to propose marriage," Little Hardi insisted.

"Marriage? To me?" Revati asked dubiously.

"All kings need a consort, and I'm not interested in Big Hardi's husband," Little Hardi said, slowly getting down on one knee.

Revati stared at him and shook her head.

"I'm seventeen," Revati pointed out.

"Well, the wedding wouldn't be for another couple of years," Little Hardi replied.

"I thought we agreed to keep our relationship professional after the handkerchief incident," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi held a hand to his heart.

"I told you dozens of times I had nothing to do with my brother's plot," Little Hardi insisted.

"He accused me of cheating on you using an old prop handkerchief as evidence, and you believed him despite it being the exact same plot of the play Othello," Revati pointed out. The entire incident occurred over a year ago and ended with Revati kidnapped and tied up on the stage in a white fluffy nightgown.

"I'm a very insecure person," Little Hardi pleaded. Dating while trapped in a fun park during the apocalypse was difficult. Before the feral children came along, Revati was the youngest person on Baker Street. All the teenagers in Whistleton were raised to be incredibly prissy. Most of them refused to do anything more than dance or hold hands. Little Hardi had been a fun, age-appropriate choice. Little Hardi was happy to do far more than hold hands.

"No," Revati said firmly.

"No? Really?" he asked, sounding faintly surprised.

"First of all, your legal system involves killing criminals on stage in the middle of plays, which is horrifying," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi shrugged.

"Secondly, I'm not an idiot! You just want to marry me so you can take over our greenhouse," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi gasped as if looking deeply insulted.

"That's not true! If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, but no such roses see I in her cheeks," Little Hardi pleaded as Revati climbed onto the penny farthing.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #science fiction #speculative fiction #speculative worldbuilding #futurism #sci-fi #creative writing #scifi story #science fiction novel

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toxophilitis · 3 months

Text

The Widow's Horny Family

CHAPTER ONE

Peggy Winters was on her hands and knees, her ass jutting into the air.

She had been working on the oven for half an hour, telling herself she would never allow it to become so dirty ever again.

But that was not all on her mind.

She was also thinking of a hard cock.

She had been thinking of hard cocks for weeks now. Each day her thoughts became more and more erotic, tormenting her and making her cunt pulsate and twitch, quiver and become very wet. The sensation was pleasant enough, she enjoyed it when her cunt tingled and burned. But it would be better to have a sweet, hard, throbbing cock fucking into her pussy.

As she leaned over to peer into the oven, scraping at a particularly stubborn spot, her ass arched higher into the air, the back of her skirt lifting.

When she heard the soft gasp, she did not at first associate it with Donny. In fact, she did not associate it with anyone or thing at the time she heard it. Her thoughts were too deep in erotic revelry. But she did hear it plainly when the gasp came a second time.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she found her son, Donny, standing in the doorway, his eyes enormous as he stared at her. Peggy’s eyes began to glow with pleasure and a smile of greeting formed on her full, moist lips. Then she realized where her son’s gaze was.

Oh, my God! she thought. My dress!

But it was too late flow. The dress was an old one that she wore when she took on housecleaning once a month. It was frayed and faded and a bit too small for her, with a short skirt. Even the skirt was torn with rips in it. But she liked to wear it when she tackled the house.

She knew what her son could see, or thought she knew. Donny could see almost to her ass.

In fact, Donny could see his mother’s ass.

He could see the backs of her thighs, the creamy flesh of them, and he could see the bottom portion of her panties. A flush crept over Peggy’s face when she realized her son was not leaving, but seemed to enjoy the view. Despite the erotic thoughts she had been having, her first impulse was to sit up and conceal what he was gazing at so hotly. But she couldn’t move... she felt frozen in that ass-up position. She was trembling, but she couldn’t make her arms move, couldn’t sit back.

She saw the glowing of her son’s eyes, saw his mouth slightly parted. She also saw the delight on his face as he stared unabashedly at her exposure.

Peggy had been worried about this.

She suspected her son had been pecking at her for some time. He was a precocious boy, bold and unafraid. She had seen the way he looked at girls in the neighborhood, his eyes gleaming with desire. She had given consideration many times of having a talk with him, but kept putting it off. It wouldn’t do for Donny to start getting his hands on the girls, feeling them up, maybe sticking his cock into some tight cunt. If that happened, the first thing she knew, angry parents would be down on her.

On the other hand, she knew that she would have to do something about Donny sooner or later, probably sooner. She had been watching him develop sexually, keeping her eyes open for any sign of overt sexuality on his part. She knew he was preoccupied with sex; she had seen the spots on his sheets where he had either jacked off or enjoyed a wet dream.

Peggy was not one to attempt to halt her son’s sexual nature or anyone else’s, including her own. But she did want him to exercise caution.

Another thing that troubled her was his interest in a lovely blonde girl. She had observed them often, and they were quite close. The girl seemed to be equally precocious and had flirty eyes that dared and challenged. The girl went out of her way to make it obvious that she would welcome Donny’s attentions. If it were just that, Peggy wouldn’t mind if her son fucked his cock into her tight cunt.

However, the girl’s parents were not that friendly. They presented an aloof and standoffish manner, seldom speaking to others. They didn’t seem at all friendly, and Peggy was afraid that if they found out Donny was doing some exploring of their daughter’s succulent pussy, there would be trouble.

Now, with her son’s eyes unabashedly gazing at her upturned ass, Peggy watched his expression closely. She tried to sit up, but her arms would not push and her thigh muscles didn’t want to work. Since she had been thinking of erotic exercises and her cunt had been steamy, her gaze drifted downward, seeing the growing bulge in the front of his pants.

She felt a catch in her throat as she understood it was her, her ass and thighs, that was giving him this growing, hard-on. She wondered if it was possible that Donny was interested in her, his own mother, that way. If the swelling lump in his pants was any indication, she knew he was interested, very much so.

For just an instant, she felt humiliation, but it was such a fleeting instant that she let it go. It was replaced by a sense of elation, of pleasure. She felt a pulsation between her thighs, the tingle of her cunt becoming more pronounced.

This is silly, she thought. Waving my fucking ass in the Goddamn air and letting my son look all he wants and me... staring right at his cock. Silly... but kind of nice, too.

Donny never took his gaze from his mother’s ass. He could see the slight puffing of her panty crotch. Finally he shifted his eyes and was looking directly into those of his brother. He grinned wickedly, and Peggy gasped when he ran his hand down and cupped his cock and balls, giving his prick a squeeze.

“Donny!” she said sharply, finding the strength to sit on her heels. “What are you doing, young man?”

He ignored his mother and arched his hips forward, his hand still cupping his cock and balls. “Want some, Mother?” he said boldly, then laughed.

“Donny!” Peggy gasped, but her eyes burning as she watched him squeezing his cock and balls.

Knowing she should be angry with him, she found that impossible. On the contrary, watching him so openly fondle himself excited her more than she would have suspected. There was a lurch in and around her cunt, a lurch quite similar to an impending orgasm. She felt her tits swell, and, without looking down, she knew her nipples were pressing against the faded thin fabric. She had no bra on, and her tits were molded by the tightness. Her son’s gaze moved to them, and she saw him lick his lips hungrily.

Peggy stood up, her legs shaking as her son continued to look at her, his hand still on his cock. One of her thighs was revealed by a long rip in the dress, and she made no attempt to cover it. It was too late, she thought, Donny has already seen almost every thing I have.

Besides, she wore shorts a lot, so there was nothing wrong with her thigh showing. What was wrong about it was the fact that a smooth thigh was more enticing when seen through a ripped skirt than when she wore shorts.

“You’re beautiful, Mother,” she heard him say in a strained voice. “You’re really beautiful.”

She could not answer him, her gaze burning on his hand as he moved it up and down his swollen cock. Her cunt was burning like liquid fire now, and the cheeks of her ass had clenched tightly. She leaned against the kitchen counter, a position that earned her hips to arch forward and her tits to become more taut, her nipples outlined.

“Nice,” her son said as his gaze moved over her straining tits. “You’ve very nice tits, Mother.”

She made some small, strangling sounds. “I... I have some nice dreams about you.” Donny was saying as his gaze moved about her body. “Some really nice dreams. You want to know what kind of dreams, Mother?”

“I... I think you better go,” she said in a thick voice, but not with much conviction. “This talk isn’t right.”

She gasped when she saw him pulling at the zipper of his pants. She lifted one hand as if to ward off a blow. “No, don’t you dare. Donny! Don’t you dare take that thing out of your pants!”

Re ignored her, pulling the zipper all the way down. She watched with hot eyes and bubbling twit as his hand went into his pants. He didn’t take his cock out right away, but teased her by playing inside his pants. Peggy felt her son knew she wanted to see his cock, that he was very much aware of her excitement end steaming cunt. She couldn’t understand how he knew what she was feeling he did, she had no doubt.

Then he pulled his prick from his pants.

Peggy gasped again as she saw her son’s cock.

He released his prick and let his cock wave freely. Donny’s cock was standing firm, very hard. Peggy’s eyes glazed over with flaming desire as she stared at his prick. His cock was long and held promise of becoming quite thick as he grew older. His prick head was quite large, she thought, for his age. The piss hole was flaring and he was dripping clear fuck juices. She could see a pulse beating along the side of his cock as his prick pointed up toward the ceiling.

Donny began to move toward her, and she leaned against the sink as though entranced by his youthful, sweet cock. When Donny was standing in front of her, he lifted one of his hands and placed it upon a firm, spongy tit. Again Peggy gasped.

Her son was almost a head shorter than she was, and she stared down at him, searching his face for something, she didn’t know what. His hand cupped her tit, fingers curling around her tit as he squeezed and felt. Her nipple burned into his palm, and her legs trembled so badly she thought she would fall. With his hand on her tit, her cunt was throbbing hotly and soaking the crotch of her panties. She wanted to remove his hand from her tit, but it felt so good... so damned good to have a hand on her tit after two long years. With her body shaking, she dropped her hands, and the back of one brushed over the dripping head of his cock. She felt the fact juices smear her hand, and her cunt almost convulsed.

“Donny,” she said, not sharply now but in a whisper. “Don’t do this to me... please. I’m weak... I may not be able to stop.”

“Then don’t stop me, Mother,” he replied, bringing his other hand up to squeeze her other tit. With both his hands on her tits, Peggy began to whimper. She was not afraid, and her whimpers were those steaming with intense desire.

Her hand moved of its own volition, and she brushed it about his throbbing cock deliberately this time. She ran her fingers along the hard side, brushed a fingertip ever his smooth cock head and across the dripping piss hole. She moaned, jerking her hand away.

She grabbed his wrists and removed his hands from her tits, then found the strength to walk from the kitchen. She went down the short hall and into her bedroom. But, as she turned to close the door, she found Donny right behind her, his cock still sticking out so sweetly.

She looked down at his prick for a long moment as he stood there, expectation on his face. Lifting her eyes, she stared into his, and, with a deep breath, grabbed hold of her son’s cock with tight fingers.

“All right, Donny,” she said in a thick voice. “There doesn’t seem any way to make you behave. I want this as badly as you do. But I’m warning you, Donny, if you say one word about this to anyone, I’ll blister your ass good, understand?”

He nodded, still grinning lewdly at his mother.

She walked over to the bed. Running her hands under the faded old dress, she stripped her panties off and flung them to the floor. She climbed onto the bed and spread her thighs wide. Donny, with his eyes staring between his mother’s thighs, shoved his pants down quickly, then knelt between her legs, his cock bulging with eagerness.

Peggy took hold of her son’s cock as she lifted her crotch a bit. She placed his swollen prick head upon the lips of her desperate cunt.

“Push, damn you!” she told him.

Donny pushed.

Peggy groaned as his cock entered her cunt. That was all she required to make her start churning her ass. She had her ass twisting and writhing before the full length of her son’s cock was inside her gripping cunt. She flung her arms above her head, her auburn hair flying about as she moaned with passion. She gripped the rungs of the headboard with tight fingers, closing her creamy thighs about her son’s now-pumping hips. He held himself with his hands on each side of her chest, grunting and panting as he fucked his cock in and out of her clinging, slippery cunt.

Peggy’s ass moved with him, bouncing up and down on the bed, meeting his cock with her cunt, hearing the moist slapping of his crotch upon hers. She felt his balls beating a tattoo against her upturned ass. Her eyes were open but were glassy with the intensity of the ecstasy that flowed through her excited body, making her mind reel.

The sensation of having a hard cock fucking into her cunt after such a long time was thrilling.

She lifted her crotch higher as she began to scissor her hot, smooth thighs about her son’s hips. She made soft, mewling sounds as her tongue licked her lips. The throbbing hardness of her son’s cock seemed to fuck very deep into her bubbling cunt, deeper than she would have expected. His prick also stretched the hair-lined lips of her pussy in a delicious manner. She felt her clit scraping against his taut cock shaft with each plunge he made, and there was an explosive orgasm building like liquid fire in the pit of her trembling stomach.

The panting and gasping of her son excited her, telling her his pleasure was as good as her own.

Then Peggy began to squeal in a soft voice as her orgasm rumbled to a head, causing her cunt to flex on her son’s cock, to tighten and relax. It was a motion that she had no control over, a thing her cunt did on its own. The rippling waves of her cunt actually sucked Donny’s cock. Despite the ecstasy that boiled through her, she managed to see her son’s face contort a few inches away from her own. The throbbing of his cock became more pronounced inside, her cunt, the beating of his balls upon her squirming ass became faster. Donny was making sounds as if he were strangling.

“Do it!” she urged in a thick voice, banging her cunt hard against his fucking cock. “Do it, Donny! Don’t hold it back! Let it go! Come, damn you, come!”

With her cunt gripping his cock in contracting waves of her steamy orgasm, sucking on his prick in a powerful, satiny way, Peggy badly wanted her son to come inside her cunt. She did not want him to jerk out, come on her thighs or stomach. She wanted his come juice gushing hotly into her pussy. Donny’s body became tight, then he seemed to shiver.

“Ohhhh!” he groaned.

Peggy felt her son’s cock lurch, then his come juice struck the sensitive walls of her satiny cunt. She felt the throbbing spurts filling, her, and it triggered a second orgasm within, her body. She screamed with ecstasy and churned her ass swiftly against him, grinding powerfully, her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. She gurgled as if she were clicking, her hips moving against him as his cock spurted creamy come juice into her pussy.

When Donny slumped on top of her, exhausted, Peggy wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly while he recovered. She could feel his cock still inside her cunt, and she felt the involuntary squeeze the hair-lined lips of her pussy gave his prick. She moaned softly with pleasure, then released him.

“Get off me,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, Donny pulled his prick free of his mother’s clasping cunt. He rolled onto his back beside her, arms and legs flung out, his smooth chest rising and falling.

Peggy sat up, glanced at her son’s wetly glistening cock and, cupping a hand between her thighs, entered the adjoining bathroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror above the sink accused her reflections.

How could you? How could you fuck your own son? Are you that hot for cock? Then she answered herself. You’re Goddamn right I am!

She used a damp cloth between her thighs, tossing it into the clothing hamper. Again she looked at her reflection, somehow thinking she would see a monster, a sex-crazed woman without guilt or shame.

She saw none of that.

She saw a face that was still beautiful, with honey-colored flesh and green eyes, eyes that now sparkled with the satisfaction she had not felt in two long years. She saw a woman with rich auburn hair that had coppery highlights, a woman with a face that could grace any magazine cover.

She saw a woman who still had the same figure as when she was cheerleading in high school. She saw a woman with firm tits, high and spongy on her chest, with nipples that still jutted.

Peggy’s waist was still very narrow, with a flat stomach that had just the hint of roundness to it. Her hips were rounded and flowed gracefully to enticingly long, creamy smooth, thighs and curvy legs. Her ass swelled and arched in a teasing manner, the cheeks as firm as any teenage girl’s ass, writhing when she walked, tantalizing any who watched.

Peggy was a woman with an erotic mind, and a body to match.

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jungkookschin · 1 year

Text

to err is to love

synopsis: planning your twins' mario theme bday party with your baby daddy/ex husband makes you start to feel weird things .. but no, you will not walk down that path again !!!

word count: 6k

pairing: dilf!jk /ex husband!jk / ceo!jk x afab reader

genre: fluff, angst, comedy, jk and oc's rich friends spoil their kids 🙄, guest appearance from g idle and enha

authors note: if u have any comments plss put it in the asks bc this is a secondary account😭ily all, this may be a part of a series if the feedback is good. i have winter break for the next three weeks so im popping these fics out very quickly!

read the first drabble here!

to err is to love masterlist

They say you find the purest love on earth by looking into your mother's eyes- and you've never really understood that until you had your own kids.

The pure adoration you have for your children is unimaginable, indescribable, unmeasurable. Your heart aches, is inter-permeated with the sweetest types of love when you think about your children. Menial tasks like simply waking them up for school in the morning, drool on the corner of their small mouths, have your very being beaming with captivation. Even the tiniest gesticulations have you enchanted, an absolute fool for your kids. It takes constant internal berating to remind yourself your kids need discipline, but it's instinctive of you to spoil them, which is precisely why you often find yourself begging your friends to join the three of you in a late night game of Among Us.

Your love for your children is also why you agreed to co habitat with your ex-husband Jungkook.

You and Jungkook were victims of a young pregnancy, one that had you ripping your hair out when you peed on that stupid stick. Though not a teenage pregnancy, getting pregnant at the tender age of 22 wasn't the most ideal of situations. Who knew that such a horrific time in your life would turn into the greatest of blessings?

Jungkook was your first boyfriend; you consider him your first love, basically the only man in the world you have been in a serious relationship with.

The night after your second anniversary date, Jungkook decided that you had him way too obsessed to just let you waltz back into your home, practically having his balls in the palm of your hand. So he insisted that you stay in his car a little bit longer; he then abused his power as son of Jeon Enterprises to take you to one of his dad's luxury hotel rooms. Jeon Enterprises runs Korea's largest and most popular chain of hotels and casinos, and surely his father the CEO was livid once he discovered what his son had done.

His father called him up to his office, and Jungkook was gnawing on the inside of his cheeks when he took that elevator forty stories up. Jungkook took the berating pretty well- after all he had the best night of his life with the girl of his dreams. That was the second most angry he's ever seen his father.

The most angry he's ever seen his father was when he broke the news to his dad that you were pregnant. That day he took a pretty harsh beating that left his ass sore for weeks .

Flash forward seven years his dad is absolutely enamored with his grandchildren, being the principle contributor to how spoiled his kids are- but flash forward seven years later he's also lost you.

A couple years after your children were born, you and Jungkook had your dream wedding in Paris at only twenty four years of age, and three years after that was the grim and ugly divorce.

A series of grievances and humilation that were a result of your relationship left you so broken, and you would never forgive yourself if you allowed yourself to stay with him. For the sake of your children did your relationship remain amicable and cordial; you refused to let them grow up in a broken home.

Your little babies were Haru and Hina, and may or may not be named after your and Jungkook's favorite anime characters; but that's what the younger versions of yourselves decided on and are the names you've chosen for their precious little faces. Your fraternal twins are objectively the cutest little kids you've ever seen, even though you may be a teensy bit biased. Nonetheless the twins wonderfully compliment each other like the perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwhich, which is sorta expected- they literally have the same DNA.

Time has flown by, with your kids entering first grade. Hina's a little clumsy, still falling over her own feet despite having fine tuned her motor skills for the past four years, but luckily Haru's always there to pick her up and wipe the dust from her knees. Even so, your kids are kids, and often bicker and quarrel with each other. Often did you find yourself dragging one twin to a corner of the house whilst Jungkook drags the other somewhere else, sitting them down and having that stern mom/dad talk which encouraged them to love and forgive each other (which may be hypocritical because their parents weren't even capable of doing so). A nasty fight had you and Jungkook almost violently tearing your kids away from each other when Haru dropped a banana right in front of Hina's cart in Mario Kart. just when she was about to get second place.

In fact, it had taken a whole week for Haru and Hina to agree on a shared birthday party theme for their sixth birthday. You were convinced that they would never come to a unaninmous agreement, and almost made the plan to go with the "beach" theme, which you really didn't want to do because that was boring. So you were absolutely delighted when they waddled towards you and Jungkook at the dining table and announced that they wanted a Nintendo theme birthday.

It's yours and Jungkook's deep and profound shared love for your children that have you working so hard to make this party a success. The clock reads 3:40 AM, T minus ten hours until the party starts. Albeit, it would have been so much easier to simply hire a professional party planner, but you both felt so much more accomplished doing it yourself. You and your ex husband Jungkook sit on the floor of your living room, systematically reviewing the checklist of tasks that need to be completed before the start of the party. A giant easel with a huge notepad stands in the middle of the room, and you use a fat ass sharpie to write everything down.

"You'll pick up the cake at ten?" you ask, words muffled from the sharpie cap in your mouth.

Jungkook shakes his head. "Namjoon hyung said he'll bring it, so I'm free to help set up the bouncy house when the guys arrive."

You nod, drawing a fat check mark next to the boxes that read 'cake' and 'bounce house'. You falter in your actions before pondering aloud. "Would it be fucked up to ask Jake and Heeseung to pick up the pizza?"

Jake and Heeseung were your kids' babysitters/tutors for when neither you or Jungkook could be home. Hey, your kids didn't have the new iPad 5's for no reason; work had to be accomplished. Jake and Heeseung were still college students, but a relationship based on courteous trust between you and them had flourished, so you and Jungkook both whole heartedly trusted them to watch over the twins. Jake and Heeseung love your kids, and your kids love them- maybe a little too much. Haru exposed Hina's crush on Heeseung, which made her dad have a splitting headache and Hina burst into tears while she rolled around on the carpet.

They are still broke college kids, so you did feel somewhat guilty asking them to participate in the preparations for the kids' party, hence why you're verbalizing the inquiry to Jungkook.

Jungkook's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Why would it be fucked up? We pay each of them fifty dollars an hour, so they better be willing to do us some favors every once in a while."

"You're right, and I know we can count on them. Can you ask them in the groupchat?"

Jungkook does so immediately, and you check off the box that reads 'pizza'. You skim over the other boxes, one reading 'costumes', which refers to the handmade Mario and Princess Peach costumes you ordered. You check the box off, the costumes sitting in a box at the corner of the room.

Face paint? Check. Your friend Miyeon said she was happy and willing to paint the kids' faces. You would just have to reimburse her for the price of the materials.

Yoshi and Bowser mascots? Check. Jungkook's friends Hobi and Jimin were forced agreed to put on the bulky costumes to entertain the kids.

Decorations? Check. You and Jungkook collaborated on a plethora of the cutest DIY decorations- and you were absolutely enthralled with how they turned out. You used old Amazon cardboard boxes to create the item boxes in Super Mario; you used little headbands from the dollar tree to create Mario and Luigi hats for all the guests. AndyYou were particularly proud of the turf you used to create a grass-esque backdrop for the photobooth.

Balloons? Check.

Bubble guns? Check

You plop down on your couch, sinking into the welcoming beige leather of the sofa. "I think we're ready," you mumble aloud, stretching out your poor back muscles that were aching from hunching over.

Before your children's father can even sneak a word in, you’re shifting your body so that your head rests on the armchair, yawning dramatically from the vexing lassitude. “G’night.”

Jungkook smiles bitterly to himself at the sweet sight of you drowsing off.

You're awake just enough to feel him gently lift you bridal style, as if you are as light as a feather before he tiptoes up the stairs, careful not to make any thumping sounds that would wake up the kids. This isn't out of the ordinary. Despite not being together, he found himself carrying you and your children back to your respective rooms quite often. Jungkook often returned home late at night. after a long day of work at Jeon Enterprises, to find you and your little twins asleep on the couch, the TV still playing reruns of Ninjago- the twins' favorite show. Quite frankly he's surprised that they didn't ask for a Ninjago or Lego theme party.

Seeing the way you had each twin snug to your sides, your chest rising and falling while light snores escaped your lips made his heart twist and turn in indescribable ways.

The situation at hand is no different. "Wanna sleep in my room tonight?" Jungkook inquires softly, makes you lazily shake your head. "Too intimate," you sleepily mumble. "We're not together anymore, Koo."

Jungkook bites back a response and silently acquiesces. He walks toward your bedroom instead of his, still with gentle steps to make sure his children don't abruptly wake from their sleep. He gently sets you down on your full sized bed, pulling your thick comforters over your body to shelter you from the cold.

Just as he's about to leave, your fingers are reaching out to tug onto the hem of his oversized black tee. "Just tonight," you murmur, eyes still closed.

Jungkook silently nods, slipping into the bed with you. His breath hitches in his throat when you roll over and lean your head in the crook of his armpit, your hand sneaking up to rest on his chest. The familiar and intoxicating scent of your vanilla body spray debilitates his senses and makes his head dizzy.

It takes him a while to fall asleep that night.

"What the fuck?!" the blaring screech of your voice rapidly pulls Jungkook from his slumber. He rubs the crust from his eyes with a fist before blinking at his panicking baby mama who is pacing around the room.

"Did we- did we sleep together?" you whisper yell, as if your previous scream didn't already wake the kids up.

Jungkook sighs at your overt reaction, knowing that it was too good to be true for you to ever warm up to him. "No," he groggily responds, sitting up and resting his back against the bed frame. "We just fell asleep next to each other," he clarifies, somewhat dejectedly.

You huff, a pointer finger and thumb coming up to massage your pounding temples. "We can't do stuff like that!" you hiss behind gritted teeth, your hands thrown down petulantly, an incredulous look on your face, which just makes Jungkook scoff.

Jungkook pushes the comforters aside, sitting on the edge of the bed where he just buries his face into his palms and groans. "Yes Y/N, this is the worst thing in the world! God forbid that you lie next to the father of your children!" he enunciates exasperatingly, irritated that you are so unnecessarily and dramatically pulling your hair out at the mere idea of falling asleep next to him! Like he hasn't seen you butt naked; like he wasn't front row at the birth of his children.

You shoot him a dirty look. "We are not fighting on the day of our children's birthday party," you say sternly, eyebrows creased to show him how serious you are.

"I wasn't the one that started it," is all he mumbles before exiting the room, shutting the door a teeny bit harder than usual, the echo of door slamming leaving you somewhat shaken up.

"Thank you so much for bringing the pizza," you smile warmly at Heeseung, one of your kids' babysitters, a stark contrast to when you violently snatch the pizza boxes out of his hand and scurry toward the dining room table to arrange the pizzas around the cake.

Heeseung and Jake awkwardly trail behind you, unsure of what to do when you're basically prancing around the house making sure everything is in order.

"The decorations look amazing Ms. L/N," Jake speaks up, marveling at the Nintendo theme party you've successfully put together. You really are satisfied with how everything turned out. From the giant blow up Mario water slide that cascades into the pool to the mini mushroom cake pops, everything is as pretty as planned. The dining table looks spectacular, the grass back drop you DIY-ed is behind a huge neon sign that reads Happy Birthday Haru and Hina! in the same font as the Super Mario logo.

The kids have yet to arrive, only your and Jungkook's friends are spread around the house; some sit at the coffee tables, others lounged around the couch, Hoseok and Jimin in the upstairs bathroom trying to squeeze themselves into their costumes.

"Thank you," you smile sweetly at the two boys. "Honestly I put so much into it I'm starting to feel like it's my party, but I'm really happy with how it turned out."

Heeseung and Jake politely chuckle along to your attempt of a cordial joke; they had to do stuff like that in order to kiss your ass. After all, you did bless them with a very generous fifty dollars per hour pay rate.

"We have a gift for the kids, by the way," Heeseung adds, holding up and presenting two identical chrome gift bags in his hands.

You shoot them a mother like smile. "Thank you so much, guys. The kids are so lucky to have you in their lives," your words trail off and your attention inevitably shifts to the contents of the gift bag. "May I ask what you got them?" you whisper, the side of your palm on the right end of your mouth so that no one would overhear the shamless inquiry.

"Oh, of course," Jake responds, polite as always. "Just a barbie doll for Hina and some pokemon cards for Haru," he elaborates, a gentleman-like smile on his lips.

"Sorry Ms. L/N, we know it's not much but-"

You don't mean to cut Heeseung off with your hasty actions, but you are just so relieved. All yours and Jungkook's friends are so insistent in spoiling the shit out of your kids. A humble and simple gift like the one from Heeseung and Jake is what you have been begging God for. Your kids are six years old for goodness' sake! There is no reason for them to have overtly luxurious and brand name items.

Before Heeseung can finish the sentence, you're grabbing the two boys' wrists and dragging them over to the mini bar, where Jungkook's friend Taehyung and your friend Soojin sit, leisurely chatting and taking sips out of Caprisuns that were perfectly arranged on the snack table. Your friends are certainly a spectacle, both dressed up as if they were attending a top class business meeting instead of a children's birthday party. Taehyung's wearing a suit and tie, Gucci shoes on his feet while Soojin's adorned in a pink blazer and mini skirt set. She looks impeccable, and had it been a normal day you would have complimented her, but it's not.

"You see this?" you hold up the gifts dangling from your fingers, waving it in Taehyung's face, the two of them owlishly blinking up at you. "Barbie dolls and pokemon cards are what my kids should be getting on their birthday, not a Chanel wallet or Gucci tie!" you hiss, gesticulating towards the Chanel and Gucci bags that idly sit on the gift table.

Taehyung smirks at you, raising a brow while he teasingly gnaws on the plump of hit bottom lip. Soojin just raises her eyebrows in amusement; their eyes meet each other before they both burst out into a fit of giggles.

"Y/N, you're such a cute mom," Soojin cooes, reaching out to pinch the apples of your cheeks. Taehyung mirrors her actions, standing up and gingerly patting you on the head.

"Relax, girly pop," he teases. "No one will even know that the wallet was three thousand dollars. Your kid's not even gonna use a fucking wallet. Just take it for yourself," he casually shrugs, his suggestion making you roll your eyes.

Taehyung randomly gestures to Heeseung and Jake, looking towards you quizzically to request an elaboration of who the two were. "Y/N, don't tell me you.." he postulates, giving you a look that can only be described as perverse, and you understand exactly what he's implying. "Does Jungkook know about this?"

"Kim Taehyung," you say sternly behind gritted teeth, your mom tone jumping out. You inhale, composing yourself before you continue. "These are Hina and Haru's babysitters. They're both business majors at SNU," you explain.

"Ah, business majors!" Soojin claps her hands in excitement. "Let me tell you about my investment firm," she suggests with a cheshire smile, gesturing for the boys to come closer to chat.

Taehyung makes a psshh sound with his lips. "Don't listen to her. Her shit's plummeting on the NYSE. Let me tell you about Kim Estates. We're a private company- actually we're looking for summer interns next year." He slyly pulls out his business card from his shirt pocket with two fingers.

And of course, Heeseung and Jake are oggling at the sight, internally celebrating that they got plugged into one of the top socialite circles in Korea.

You shake your head, somewhat annoyed and somewhat endeared at your friends' antics. You rush upstairs to check on your kids, who are supposed to be changing into their costumes: a Princess Peach dress for your babygirl, and a Mario costume for your baby boy.

You step into the master bathroom upstairs, absolutely enchanted with the sight in front of you. Haru looks absolutely adorable in his denim overalls, red long sleeve tee, and red Mario hat. The brightest of smiles lights up your face, and you immediately pick him up, peppering his face with sloppy mom kisses on his chubby little face. Thank goodness he's not at the age to be grossed out by his mom's affection, so he just giggles in response.

Your mother steps out of the closet, Hina in her arms. Your daughter looks like the loveliest girl alive in her Princess Peach dress, a golden crown adorned on her cute little head.

"Oh my!" you exclaim, rushing towards her. "My princess looks so beautiful!" you comment. You reach out to her with a vacant hand and enveloping her securely with a single arm, so you had one kid on each side of your body.

Hina wiggles in your arms, pouting at you. "Mommy, I told you I can walk all by myself!"she complains, pouting at you whilst she glares at you with a not-so intimidating glare.

You giggle, setting her down at your feet. "Sorry baby girl, I forgot that you're all grown up now!" you tease.

Haru who practically worships his sister follows her lead, wriggling out of your embrace before standing adjacent to Hina. You don't mind it. You're not the type of mother that lives in the past, the type that constantly reminisces over when the kids were babies. You live in the present, enjoying every moment before it passes.

Your mother kisses her teeth, making a tssk sound with her lips before she shakes her head. "These kids are getting too entitled," she grumbles, both of her hands coming down to gently slap both of the kids in the back of their heads.

"Mom!" you hiss, kneeling down and rubbing your hands on their heads to soothe the pain.

Both of your children remain tight lipped, knowing better than to talk back to their sometimes violent grandmother. The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, you suppose, deciding to relinquish any objection against your mom.

"So Heeseung and Jake are already here," you tenderly say, "Go downstairs and hang out until your friends get here."

Hina immediately crimsons, fidgeting in place at the mention of Heeseung, which elicits a snicker from her brother. "I'm going to tell Heeseung hyung you like him today," he mocks, an immature teasing tone in his voice, typical of a six year old.

Hina fumes, jumping down in place with her hands thrown down. "You better not!" she seethes before directing her attention towards you.

"Mommy, tell Haru that he's not allowed to tell Heeseung oppa I like him!" she cries, jumping up and down to prove a point.

You bite your tongue, briefly recalling when you yourself told Heeseung that your daughter harbored a little crush on him. "Haru," you say sternly, "You will not betray your sister. You guys are on the same team," you firmly instruct, eliciting a snobby look from your son.

"Now go downstairs and greet your friends, okay?"

"Okay, mommy!" they chant in unison before racing down the stairs.

Your mother crosses her arms before she lightly exhales. "They're growing up too fast, already knowing what crushes are," she sighs somewhat bitterly. You chuckle lightly, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Times change mom, kids aren't going to act like how I did when I was a kid."

Your mother simply makes the signature tssk sound with her mouth before vacating the restroom. On the way out, she bumps into your bumbling baby daddy, who politely greets her before stumbling into the restroom. When you lay your eyes on him your breath hitches in your throat, because he looks so good. Since the divorce you swore that you would never go back, but he looks so daddy in his white button up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off the tattoos embellishing his forearms.

You're pulled out of your trance by his rambling. "Hina still has a crush on Heeseung?" he hisses, the most mortified haze on his face.

You just shrug, knowing how perplexed he gets at the mere thought of his daughter being romantically involved with somebody. Jungkook paces around the room, grumbling incoherent phrases to himself. "Y/N, should we get new babysitters?" he asks, to which you shoot him an incredulous look.

"No!"

"I just don't want Hina to start loving him more than she loves me, like what the fuck!" he grumbles exasperatingly, which makes you laugh a little.

The harmonious sound of your laughter pulls him from the wormhole of his thoughts. "So this is funny to you?" he satirizes, approaching you as you giggle.

"Yes," you curtly respond, making Jungkook playfully roll his eyes. A brief moment of silence washes over the situation, and you feel the urge to fill the void.

"Look Jungkook," you begin, trailing off a little while you lean against the bathroom counter. "I'm sorry for overreacting this morning. I guess we never really discussed boundaries," you continue, "And-and you are the father of my children so I guess sleeping next to each other shouldn't be that bad- I don't know." You begin rubbing your biceps with your palms, suddenly self conscious of yourself.

Your diffidence softens Jungkook, a familiar ache pounding in his chest. "Hey Y/N, it's okay," he quickly expresses to assuage any insecurities that are bubbling inside of you. He has always been a fool for you. "I think it would be productive to have a conversation about boundaries," he communicates, as polite and sweet as ever. You slowly nod, purposely not replying so that he would have to say something.

"So boundaries?" he ponders aloud, making his way towards you. "Can we hug?" he asks, opening his arms a little, making you pout at the ridiculous question. Nonetheless, you walk into his embrace and wrap your arms around his torso, only momentarily before you step back. "It would be weird if we didn't," you laugh, making him raise a brow.

"What about kissing?"

He asks the question with no particular tone in his voice; he looks serious as ever as he gazes you with his doe eyes, and it makes you gulp. His words have a profound effect on you, making it feel as if your guts are twisting up; you shoot him a firm look to disguise the butterflies bursting in your stomach.

"Jungkook, we can't do this."

"But why not? We live together, have kids together, why can't we?" his eyebrows are furrowed in desperation, and you have to rip your eyes away from the sight in front of you.

"No Jungkook," you calmly explain before inhaling deeply. "We tried before and It-it didn't work out. I don't want our kids to live in a household where their parents are constantly breaking up and getting back together."

Jungkook sighs, sitting on the ledge of the bathtub where he rests his elbows on his thighs. He purses his lips, attempting to conjure a redeemable response.

"Love," you blurt out. "Love. We can't do this because there's no love."

Jungkook slowly raises his head to peer at you. He does it so steadily that it becomes agonizing; you don't want to see the look on his face. When you see him, he just looks defeated. "Do you really feel that way?' he asks, despondency laced in his voice.

You falter momentarily before you look directly at him and nod. He purses his lips before bitterly nodding to himself. "Alright Y/N." And even if your words pierce through him like a bullet, he still speaks with composure and grace. "Let's go downstairs and wait for the twin's friends to arrive. I'll see you there, okay?" He gives you a polite tightlipped smile before walking out of the room.

Once he leaves, a relieving sigh leaves your lips. You know that no matter what Jungkook thinks he feels, his emotions just aren't a direct reflection of reality. You've been with him long tenough to understand that he's mistaking his attachment to you for love. It was only a matter of time for him to realize that the two of you aren't suitable for each other, that it was better for to remain co parents for the sake of your children.

Jumping back into a relationship would only complicate things and exacerbate the situation for the children. You will not let that happen. You recompose yourself, touching up your appearance in the mirror before rejoining the party.

Thankfully, the party goes exactly as planned. This would surely be one for the books, with the kids frolicking through the grass in the backyard with their water guns and Mario hats. Heeseung and Jake served as excellent chaperones/mood makers/life guards, with Hina on Heeseung's shoulders and Haru on Jake's shoulders whilst they sparred in an intense chicken fight. You swore you almost had a heart attack when Tyler, the baby brother of one of Haru's friends leaps into the damn pool. You jumped in with all your clothes on to pick him up and prevent him from drowning.

On top of that, you find Hina's incessant clinging to Heeseung a little excessive. She follows him around like a kicked little puppy, even waiting outside the bathroom while he takes a piss. Poor Heeseung doesn't have it in him to tell Hina to leave him alone, so you have to force Hina to revert her attention to her friends.

The kids absolutely ate the Yoshi and Bowser costumes up, tackling and climbing on poor Jimin and Hoseok as if they were playgrounds. Not to mention that it was absolutely suffocating and hot inside of the costumes.

"Heejoon! Get off poor Yoshi!" Heejoon's mother exclaims, rushing over to practically rip her kid off Hoseok's shoulders. She shoots you an apologetic look, making you laugh.

Towards the end of the party, Miyeon finally pulled out her face painting kit and painted the most beautiful designs on the kids' faces. Hina had a butterflies on the sides of her chubby cheeks, and Haru had the red Spiderman mask on his.

"Oh, try not to sneeze on me when you get your face painted, alright?" Miyeon captures everyone attention when she yells to the long line of children waiting to get her face painted. She wipes off some kid's saliva on her face and presents the kids with a faux smile, not like they'd be able to tell the difference anyways.

Another highlight of the party was when Jungkook's friend Namjoon showed up with his baby girl, Lauren. Unlike Hina and Haru, Lauren is actually a baby- only about five months old and she is the cutest baby you have ever seen in your life. (After Haru and Hina, of course). Lauren really turned out to be the star of the party, everybody crowding around her just to get a glimpse of the kid. You took plenty of photos of your kids with Lauren, pondering when all of Jungkook's other friends would finally have kids of their own. So far it was only Jungkook and Namjoon. You reckon Yoongi may be next since he recently married.

Once all the kids finally leave, you are spent, exhausted from the long and tiresome day that you just lived through. But hey, the all the kids went home in one piece and that's what matters. With much of your gratitude, your friends stick around to help clean up, but you ultimately decide that you would put the real deep cleaning off until tomorrow.

After showering your children and tucking them into bed, you and Jungkook are left sat in his bedroom with the plethora of multi colored gift bags surrounding you. Your friends and your kids' friends' rich parents have spoiled Haru and Hina so much that you the ground isn't even visible.

Jungkook looks equally spent, roughly tugging at the tie that was once neatly tied around his neck. He runs his hand through his hair, exposing his handsome forehead, and you have to force yourself to look away before you start having inappropriate thoughts.

He settles down besides you, leaning against the wall of his bedroom. He holds up a palm, gesturing you to give him a high five, which you gingerly comply to.

"Good job Y/N. You worked really hard today and the party turned out amazing." He offers his utmost kindness and support as he always does, and it's this cordial atmosphere that makes you think that you and he truly are better off as co parents.

You shoot him a confused look. "You did just as much work, Jungkook. Thanks for being such a great father," you grin at him, noticing how his features light up.

He chuckles lightly. "Well, it's our job," he shrugs.

You purse your lips before agreeing. "I think we're pretty good parents," you say half joking, which makes Jungkook laugh.

"Of course we are, the kids have manners, they're provided for, they're healthy- what else could they need?"

"I mean, you're right, but what if we somehow fuck up and cause them some unintentional childhood trauma?" you ponder aloud, which makes Jungkook shoot you a playfully incredulous look. "I highly doubt it," he says. "You're a great mom Y/N, truly. That's why I admire you so much."

His saccharine voice is laced with benignity, making you feel as if colors are bursting in your chest. Is it really necessary for him to be this sweet? He should have told you that you were a great mom and left it at that.

You turn your head just to see that he is already gazing at you with that sincere glimmer in his eyes. It's the same lovestruck look he had on his face at the wedding, honeymoon- the same look he gave you when he first laid eyes on his children. His adam's apple visibly bobs, drawing your attention to his thick neck.

Jeon Jungkook is and will most likely always be the most handsome man you have ever seen.

The thought terrifies you wholeheartedly, but the implication of it is so exciting- so intriguing that you can't help but want to be sucked back into Jeon Jungkook's world. The notion lights a fire in your heart, and your rationality ceases. Your eyes trail up to his eyes, then back down to his mouth, where you subconsciously lick your own lips.

A desperate haze is painted on his face; his eyes are following yours, ignited curiosity adjuring to know what's on your mind. Yet, he cannot bring himself to verbalize his thoughts, too entranced with how utterly beautiful you are.

He exhales slightly, his hot minty breath hitting your face, and that's when you decide fuck it, it wouldn't hurt to give in just once.

You close your eyes and lean in, gently kissing his bottom lip whilst his lips latch on to your top lip. His kisses are so sickeningly sweet, his tongue sneaking into your mouth to make contact with yours. His palm gently raises to cup your cheeks, cradling your face ever so softly while he bestows you with the most languid of kisses. His lips pull you in closer, the cold texture of the buttons on his shirt making you shudder.

You sigh into the kiss, prompting Jungkook to pull you into his lap, which he does with ease. Your legs sneak around his torso, your arms around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

His hands remain wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. His embrace is so comforting- so secure and familiar that you want to stay in his arms forever.

To your surprise, you aren't nervous; you're eager as ever. You've succumb to the temptation that is Jungkook, and it feels perfect- it feels right, like you're finally home. The sensation of his lips against yours is so familiar, so comforting, so perfect- as if your lips were made to be against his. Despite it being two years since you've kissed him, the two of you make out as if you are professionals at eliciting the sweetest sounds from each other.

The sound of your phone ringing is what draws you away to him, your eyes glancing towards your phone that lights up. "I think Seojun's mother is here to pick up his iPad- he left it here," you explain to which Jungkook just nods.

"Do you want me to hand it to her?" Jungkook asks, slowly and steadily.

The atmosphere is confusing, because the two of you were just making out as if your lips were magnets and now you're speaking awkwardly to each other.

"No, it's okay- um- I can do it," you say, and then you're stumbling out of his lap and walking down the stairs.

find out why jk and oc divorced here!

#jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts jungkook drabbles #bts jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagines #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk scenarios #bts angst #bts fanfic #jeongguk fanfic

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 month

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In The Way I Need You | Part 10

Series Masterlist

➪in which you start your first shift at jess’ after leaving clay’s house in tears, and a confrontation at work leaves you feeling a lot worse than before.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay watched you flee his house with tears in your eyes, and he couldn’t even question you on it before you were gone, your body covered back up by your dress from last night instead of his shirt.

He had no idea what happened in the three minutes he left you alone for, but apparently it was a lot. Only a few seconds passed by the time he made it to the front door to go after you, but when he looked outside, you were long gone.

You said you weren’t feeling well and that you needed air, but he was still confused as to why you didn’t let him take care of you. If you weren’t feeling up for that second date, then he would’ve happily let you lay in his bed all day until you felt better, but you fled before he could even offer that to you.

What happened?

His brows furrowed as he closed the door loudly and made his way back up to his room, planning on calling you, or at least texting you, as soon as he located his phone.

But as soon as he entered his room, that plan slipped his mind as his gaze narrowed onto the framed picture that was placed on his still unmade bed. Clay felt his heart drop as he neared the photo, a sick feeling creeping up his throat as he realized who it was of.

Clay picked up the picture of him and Sam that was taken on their wedding day, and he couldn’t even recognize the version of himself in the photo. It felt like so long ago, and he knew he was a very different person now.

The guy in the picture was a lovesick fool who missed every single warning sign and red flag Sam gave out. His twenty two year old self felt like a stranger now since he had been forced to grow up so quickly after Joey was born and Sam left him.

He wanted to laugh, because the second things had gotten good with you, Sam fucked it up for him without actually being there.

Where did you even find this picture? He couldn’t remember where he had put it after tearing his room apart of anything that reminded him of her, so what were the odds that you had found it?

Clay looked around and noticed one of the drawers in his dresser was open a bit, and when he pulled it open and saw an unfolded blue shirt thrown in there, he knew that was where you discovered it.

This was the drawer Clay barely went into as it was full of all his old tees he used to wear when he was in his late teens and early twenties. They were his vintage and graphic shirts, and the ones he didn’t wear often, so he truly didn’t remember putting the picture in there since he hadn’t opened the drawer in quite a while.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he picked up the shirt and and looked down at the photo. No wonder you suddenly didn’t feel good, Clay was beginning to feel sick, too, as he stared down at the smiles on his and Sam’s faces.

Young, dumb and naive Clay. How stupid can you be?

With a groan, he tossed the shirt onto his bed before turning the frame over and practically ripping the back of it off. He pulled the photo from the glass and tossed the frame aside, too, and without a second thought, he ripped it into countless pieces.

He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do that before he met you, but now that he’d had a glimpse of what life looks like with you, he never wanted to go back. He hadn’t even thought about Sam at all since he left her that final voicemail, and he hated the fact that you must think that he still loves her.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The only part of her that he loves is the one he shares with her. The one that brought you and him together. His son; someone who he doesn’t even consider hers anymore.

Joey isn’t Sam’s. He never was. She brought him into the world, and then she abandoned him. No mother does that to their child.

As far as Clay was concerned, Joey was all his.

He throws the pieces of the picture into the garbage bin beside the dresser before looking around for his phone. He finds it on his nightstand next to his alarm clock with your sticky note on it, and his heart ached even more.

Without wasting a second, he picks his phone up and calls you. He sits down on his messy bed and tugs at his equally messy hair as it rings and rings, and he knows you probably won’t answer him for at least a few hours.

You were upset, and rightfully so.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he started when he was met with your voicemail, and he would’ve laughed at the fact that he is leaving someone else another pointless voicemail, but you weren’t just someone, and nothing was pointless when it came to you. “I didn’t realize I still had pictures with her around, and I hate that you found that. I swear, I would’ve never told you to grab some of my clothes if I remembered that it was in there. It wouldn’t even be in there anymore.”

He felt stupid calling you like this, but he needed you to know as soon as possible that he was over Sam and that she was no longer in the picture.

“Sam doesn’t mean anything to me. All she is…she’s just the person who helped bring my son into the world. That’s it,” he was rambling now and felt his chest tighten. It hurt a bit, and it felt like he was straining his heart, so he knew he needed to end the call and calm himself down. “I’m sorry. Please, call me back.”

He hung up after that and tossed his phone onto the bed before sitting down and running his hands through his hair.

How did he always manage to fuck things up? It was going great, you trusted him enough to let him pick you up after a night out, and your second date was a mere few minutes away from happening when you left in tears. Ones that he caused, more or less.

You were embarrassed as you turned off your phone, declining Clay’s second call to you since you left his house crying.

Sam was stunning, and now that you knew what she looked like, you could see the similarities her and Joey share.

You felt like an idiot and you were humiliated and feeling so insecure right now. A million doubts ran through your head and left it hurting, and your unrelenting tears definitely didn’t help.

Once you were home, you completely shut yourself off from everything and tried to focus on preparing for your first shift at Jess’ cafe. You wanted to check your phone and even wanted to see what Clay had said in his texts, but you also needed some time away from all that.

So you didn’t turn your phone on for the rest of the night, and by the time you entered Jess’ the next day, you still hadn’t powered it on. You didn’t have much time to use your phone as Jess would be starting your training any minute now, but you still didn’t want to completely cut Clay off. You decided that much after a whole day had passed.

You turn your phone on and click on his contact, but before you could read one of the four texts he sent you, Jess calls your name, and you have to put your phone away and begin training.

Around an hour passes before Jess allows you to continue your shift without her hovering over your shoulder. You had just taken your first order when your new coworker moved to get started on it. “Oh, you don’t have to do it for me,” you wave him off. “How am I supposed to learn if I don’t actually make the drinks?”

He just shakes his head with a grin, “The guy you took the order from is a regular,” he says. “Trust me; it’s best if I make his drink. If you mess it up even a little bit, he’ll ruin your whole day.”

“Okay,” you laugh and decide to let him take this one as you begin to wipe away the messy counter. “Good looking out.”

He smiled over at you as he made the drink and gave it to the guy you took the order from, his glare turning into a content smile as he sipped on it. “See? Told you,” he mumbled and you just shook your head, setting the cloth aside and beginning to change the coffee filters. “I’m Miles, by the way.”

You look over and see that he held his hand out to you. “Y/n,” you say and shake his hand. “I’m new, clearly.”

“I can see that,” he nodded and braced his elbows against the counter. “You new to the city, too?”

“Um, kind of,” you answer and wipe your hands on your brown apron. “I’ve been here for about a month now. Still getting used to all of it.”

Miles nods in understanding, giving you a boyish smile afterwards. He was cute, but not nearly cute enough to get your mind off Clay. Miles looked to be around your age, or maybe a bit older, and he had dark brown hair that covered his forehead, and from what you could tell, his eyes were a deep green. “Yeah, the city isn’t for everyone,”

You furrow your brows then laugh. “Oh, no, I’m not…I love it here so far,” you further explain. “It is a lot to take in, though.”

“Ah,” he nodded again and gestured to the customer on his side of the counter, politely pausing your conversation as he began taking the girl’s order.

You smile at him and turn to your side, and your breath gets caught in your throat when you meet Clay’s pretty blue eyes as he enters the shop. He briefly smiles but it falters as he nears the counter, guilt swimming in his gaze as he places his hands against the marble. “Hi,”

“Hi,” you whisper back and try to distract yourself by cleaning a nearby mug. An awkward silence fell over the two of you, and you hated every second of it. It was never awkward with Clay, and the sudden change had your face heating up as you avoided eye contact with him. “Um, do you want a coffee? Or a pastry?”

Clay sucked in a breath and shook his head. “No, I just,” he trailed off and you hesitantly met his eyes again. “I wanted to see you. Wish you luck, you know, on your first shift.”

He was dressed in what you think is his work attire - though it looked just as formal as his usual clothing - and your heart swelled a bit at the fact that he stopped by before work so he could talk to you, even though it was a bit out of the way from what you knew about where his job location is.

“Oh,” you say quietly and want nothing more than to throw your arms around him and kiss him right then and there. He was so sweet, you hated how tense things were between you right now. “That’s…nice, Clay. Thank you.”

Clay smiled at you but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You wondered if he felt as miserable as you did, then you remembered you hadn’t actually read his texts, so you really had no idea on how he was feeling right now. “Yeah,” he murmured and his eyes held so much longing, you felt your own burn a bit. It looked like he wanted to ask you something, but he didn’t and instead said, “I don’t know if you read my messages or listened to my voicemail, but…I’m sorry about yesterday. If I had known…”

You tear your eyes away from his and bite down on your lip. “Yeah, I um…haven’t gotten around to checking my phone,” you confess and grip onto the edge of the counter as you feel your face begin to heat up. Glancing to your right, you can see Miles eyeing the two of you with a poorly hidden look of judgment on his face, and you could only hope he didn’t bring this up later.

Clay stayed silent and nodded. “Oh,” he said quietly and it somehow made you feel even worse. “That’s okay. Just, whenever you get the chance…I miss you.”

You bite down harder until you were sure you were about to make your lip bleed before looking up at him. You wanted to say it back, but you were still hurt and a bit stubborn and your emotions were a mess right now. “Do you need me to watch Joey later?”

His face falls a bit and he steps away from the counter. “Yeah, if you’re able to. If not I can call my-”

“No, I can,” you say quickly and give him a tight smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

Clay swallows hard and nods, giving you a so clearly forced smile and making your heart ache even more. “See you later,” he rasped and turned around, leaving the shop without another glance at you.

As soon as he was gone, you blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and turned your back to the rest of the shop as you pulled out your phone. It was nearly dead as you didn’t bother plugging it in last night, and you were seriously regretting that now as you finally allowed yourself to read Clay’s messages.

8:09 AM

Clay Beresford: I’m so sorry you found that, I swear I didn’t know I still had pictures of her and I around.

8:43 AM

Clay Beresford: Sam is not in our lives anymore, I promise. I care about you so much, and so does Joey. Please call me back.

1:19 PM

Clay Beresford: I understand that you need time, and I’ll give you as much as you need. Just know that she means nothing to me anymore, and she hasn’t for a long time now.

9:21 PM

Clay Beresford: Joey missed you today, we both did. I know you have your first shift as Jess’ tomorrow, but are you still able to pick him up from school after? I’m sorry again, Y/n. I never wanted to hurt you.

He’d been trying to apologize and explain ever since you left.

You felt your eyes sting again, and you brought your phone up to your ear after clicking on the voicemail. “Everything okay?” Miles asks as he hands a freshly made drink to a girl. His voice sounded a bit humorous, and you furrowed your brows at it but couldn’t call him out on it before Clay’s frantic voice met your ear.

Your lip was hurting now as you had gone back to biting it while you listened to his voicemail, and by the time it was over, you were sure you could taste a hint of metal on your tongue. “Fuck,” you whispered as you typed out a text to him with shaky fingers.

Miles coughed loudly next to you, and you lifted your gaze and glared at him. “I take it you and that rich guy are close?” He laughed and leaned against the counter with his arms crossed. “Or maybe you were but not anymore. He looked like a kicked puppy walking out of here, poor guy. But he’s not poor, right? He looks like he probably owns his own business or something.”

“Shut up,” you say before you could think it through. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to quickly apologize, but Miles just scoffs.

“Oh, come on. A guy like that has no business coming into a place like this. I bet he could buy this whole street if he wanted to, then he’d own us,” Miles continued and you forget your task of texting Clay back in order to defend him from your coworkers petty assumptions.

“And what if he could? What if he did? What would you do about it, Miles?” You ask with annoyance lacing your tone. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to assume all this stuff about Clay when he had no idea what he was actually like.

“I’d quit,” Miles answered with a shrug. “I don’t need some rich prick holding anything above my head.”

You drop your phone onto the counter loudly and move towards him. “Shut the hell up,”

Miles laughs again and it only irritates you further. “Make me,” he muttered. “Christ, Y/n, you don’t believe guys like that actually care about people like us, do you?”

“People like us?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Poor people. We don’t need the rich pitying us when they have it all at their-”

“Shut up,” you nearly yell and then realize you were literally in the middle of your first shift and getting into a heated argument with your new coworker you only shared one brief conversation with before this. The patrons looked over at you with wide eyes and quiet laughs, and you felt embarrassed for the second time this week.

You couldn’t say anything else, and neither could Miles, as Jess came in from the back room and glared at the two of you. “What is going on?”

Miles just raised his hands and turned back to another customer. “You hired a spaz, Jess,”

You opened your mouth to give him a witty remark, but Jess reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Hey,” she said and pulled you with her into the storage room. “What’s going on? You were doing great when I left you, and now I find you yelling at my best worker?”

You let out a surprised laugh, “He’s your best?” Jess raises a brow at you and you sigh before looking down at the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, slightly frustrated as she crossed her arms. “Just tell me what happened. Why were you and Miles arguing?”

You huff and meet her gaze. “You know that boyfriend I told you about at that bar? Well, him and I got into a fight or…something, and he came into the shop today and apologized and I stupidly pushed him away and I guess Miles decided he should assume all these things about him and I couldn’t just stand there and take it,” you explained as plainly as you could, not wanting your boss to completely know what’s been going on in your personal life. “I know it’s a dumb reason, but I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry, Jess, I promise I’m not like that all the time. I just got mad.”

Jess pursed her lips and nodded, her hard gaze dropping a bit. “So I missed seeing just how cute your boyfriend supposedly is?” She teased, lightening the mood and making you huff out a quiet laugh.

“He’s very cute,” you repeated your words from a couple nights ago, and you were reminded of the way Clay came out and picked you up before taking you back to his house and taking care of you. “Things are messy right now, and I’m sorry I allowed it to be brought into my work life. What happened with Miles won’t happen again.”

You shifted the conversation back to a more serious one, and you could tell Jess appreciated it by the way she smiled and nodded at you. “You better not,” she said sternly. “Because I like you, Y/n, and I want you to have a real chance here. Okay?”

Nodding quickly, straighten yourself out. “Okay,”

“Good, now get back out there,”

A few hours later, you successfully made it through your first shift and were currently listening to Joey ramble on about what he did at school in the backseat of Rick’s car.

You were nearly back to Clay’s place when Joey shifted and tugged at his backpack from its place on the floor. You reach over and help him, and once he grabs a piece of paper from it, you let it gently drop back down as Joey leans against the seat again. “I made this today,” he said and held the paper out to you.

Taking it from him, you’re once again almost in tears as you look at the drawing. Joey was getting better at drawing and coloring with each passing day, and his attention to detail at his young age was extremely impressive. This drawing was of you, Clay and Joey, with you being in the middle this time and the Beresford boys on either side of you. “Wow,” you say quietly, meeting Rick’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You’re quite the little artist, huh, babe?”

Rick gave you a knowing look as Joey said, “Daddy and I like it when you’re at our house. You make things better,”

And then you were on the verge of tears for the second time today.

@evilnight07 @espinathena-17

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #clayton beresford imagines #clay beresford imagines #clay beresford x reader #clayton beresford x reader #clayton beresford #awake 2007 #awake #clay beresford #in the way i need you #in the way i need you series

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juyeonszn · 7 months

Text

SWEET

PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 4.61k

GENRES fluff ﹒ smut ﹒ minuscule bit of angst

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, boy next door/neighbor au, reader was in a toxic-ish relationship, juyo is so cute and so sweet, until he’s kinda 😵‍💫 yk?, um kevin and changmin appearances, reader being absolutely irrevocably impossibly down bad for juyeon’s hands, so hand kink lol, making out, vaginal fingering, cum eating…. lol, they get a little sappy at the end

SUMMARY maybe this was for the better. maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor.

MORE i would like to apologize for putting this out a day late… um i was really busy preparing for my enhypen concert so 😭 not a lot of writing was happening since there wasn’t enough brain juice flowing. anyways. ENJOY <3 pls rb if u did! (ALSO THANK U REESE AND @sungbeam FOR BETAING AND EDITING <<<3 i love y’all sm)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

If there was one thing you took pride in, it was your keen sense of hospitality.

You’d been raised as the type of girl to always be welcoming when a new face arrived, to be that guiding light for them as they adjusted to all the changes in their life. When you were little, your mother taught you to introduce yourself first, because you never knew if that person was shy or not. Of course, there was the usual ‘Stranger Danger’ pep talk, but it differed greatly from the new friend pep talk.

The first time you exhibited this wonderful trait of yours was in middle school when the foreign student in your class was forced to stand at the front of the room. He wasn’t necessarily shy, but you could tell he didn’t really enjoy being put on the spot, hands behind his back as he said his name and where he was from.

Kevin Moon. Age 13. Vancouver, Canada.

The only empty desk in the classroom was the one beside yours, and that was the golden opportunity to become best friends with the new kid. As soon as he settled into his seat and class had resumed as normal, you leaned over slightly and cupped a hand over your mouth to whisper loud enough that he could hear.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!”

He gave you a small smile in return and from then on, you and Kevin Moon were the best of friends.

The second time you proved your kindness was your freshman year of college. It was still syllabus week, but your professor had sent out an email over the weekend with papers that needed to be printed and brought to class. The guy next to you didn’t get the memo, freaking out over already messing things up on the first day.

You didn’t know him at all, but you felt bad that he was so stressed. In turn, you decided to rip up your own papers. He looked at you like you were crazy, maybe because you were. What idiot does something like that?

You give him a warm smile. “There. Now we’re both missing it.”

All he can do is laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m Changmin.”

“Y/N.”

After that, Ji Changmin came to be another one of your closest friends. It was kind of silly that something your mother instilled in you at a young age had become such a big part of your life. It brought you people who you’d cherish forever. But it also brought people you wish you’d never met.

“Get the fuck out.”

“Y/N, babe, we can work through this—”

“Are you deaf?” Your tone raises and your feet carry you to the front door, swinging it open. “I said to get out of my apartment.”

“We’ve been together for three years. You’re not gonna fight for us?” He pleads, clasping his hands as he stands in front of you.

“Why would I? Why should I stay with someone who doesn’t value me enough to stay loyal?” You seethe, your anger growing in size the longer you glare at his pathetic face. The face of a man you thought would love you until death did you part.

“She meant nothing to me!” He tries to rationalize with you, but you won’t have any of it. You weren’t stupid and you sure as hell weren’t blind.

“Do you take me as a fucking fool, Daehyun? I’ve known for months that you weren’t ‘working late at the office’. She even DMed me and showed me screenshots of your messages. Now get out before I call the cops.” You’re so pissed off that you don’t even realize you’re crying, fat tears trickling down your hot cheeks.

“After all I’ve done for you and all I’ve given you? You’re gonna act like a bitch?” He drops the innocent boyfriend act, backing you into the doorframe.

“Leave, Daehyun.” You say flatly. You’re not gonna give him the satisfaction of crumbling beneath the weight of his words. You knew the truth, you knew what kind of person he truly was after all this time.

He scoffs, grabbing his jacket off the hook beside him and finally storming out of your apartment. You cover your mouth with your hand to muffle the sobs that so badly want to escape. You watch as he bumps shoulders with a stranger holding a box, thankfully not looking back at you.

You make eye contact with said stranger, eyes wide like a child who’d just gotten caught with their hands in a cookie jar. His eyes resemble those of your friends’ when you told them you’d found out about your boyfriend’s infidelity. You both stand there for a moment, an impromptu staring contest ensuing.

Quickly, you snap out of your trance, cowering into your apartment. You vaguely remember the elderly woman across the hall mentioning that someone was moving into the unit beside yours. She had never told you a specific date, though. Had you known it was today, you might’ve expedited the dramatic break-up with Daehyun.

How could you possibly introduce yourself to him after he witnessed that? And in your current state; snot-nosed and teary-eyed? There was no way. You’d just have to postpone that for another day. Hopefully he didn’t mind too much.

“Was he cute?”

“Kevin, why is that what you’re worried about?” Changmin’s mouth pulls into a thin line, smacking the slightly older male over the back of the head. He winces, caressing the spot to ease the pain.

“I wasn’t really paying attention to that when I had just shoved my cheating ex boyfriend out of my apartment,” you push around the ramyeon on your plate with your chopsticks. “I do feel terrible that he had to see that though. But how can I face him after that?”

Kevin taps his chin with his index finger, lips pursed in thought. “Why don’t you bake for him? Welcome him to the complex like the hospitable neighbor you are.”

“That’s not a half bad idea, actually.” Changmin nods, shoveling some rice onto his spoon. The Pisces deadpans and reclines in his chair.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Okay, enough bickering you two. I need you to finish eating so I can start planning what to bake.”

The third time you practice your mother’s life lesson, is the next evening when you’re face-to-face with your neighbor’s door.

Your hands have begun to clam up beneath the warm tupperware of cookies you were holding. Were you supposed to just knock on his door like everything was fine and dandy? What if he wasn’t even home? Maybe you should just leave the baked goods with a note and—

The door swings open to reveal the stranger from a few days ago. However, this time he also wears that expression of shock, cat-like eyes widened. Your mouth moves like fish out of water, not sure what you should say or how you should say it. So you don’t think and you just act, extending the tupperware towards him.

“H-Hi, I’m Y/N, I’m your neighbor,” your speech is a little shaky, but you’re too nervous to focus on that. “I— um— I baked these for you as a housewarming gift to welcome you to the complex. As well as an apology for making you a bystander in my messy breakup.”

His features relax as a smile inches its way onto his face, graciously accepting the treats you made for him. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that. And don’t even worry about it, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“N-No, you’re fine, I swear! We shouldn’t have aired our dirty laundry so publicly like that. You did nothing wrong.” You wave your hands as if physically dismissing his words. He lets out a little chuckle that warms your chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad that you left the dude. He sounded like a total asshole,” your neighbor tucks the tupperware under his arm, leaning against the threshold of his apartment. “You seem too nice to settle for somebody like that. From what I’ve seen, of course.”

You don’t know why that has your heart skipping a beat like a high school girl. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he really was cute. He had a boyish charm to him, but not so much so that it overpowered how handsome he was. Kevin was going to have a field day with this information.

“Uh, thank you. I should be getting back to my place now. I have an early day at work tomorrow. Have a good night!” You clear your throat to kick yourself out of whatever stupor you were about to fall into, bowing. As you’re turning on your heel to make the ten foot trip to your own apartment, he calls out your name.

“I’m Juyeon, by the way.” He grins, waving as you push open your door.

“Now that is quite the interesting development.” Kevin snorts, helping himself to one of the raspberry filled donuts you’d just finished baking.

“If you keep eating my product, I’m gonna have to kick you out of the kitchen and out of my bakery,” you chide, swatting his hands away from the baker’s rack. “And how is that interesting in the slightest? I literally gave him the cookies, apologized, and that was that.”

“He was literally flirting with you, Y/N. Changmin, tell her I’m right. Apparently I’m no longer a voice of reason here.” He says through a full mouth.

“I mean, yeah? Kinda? Calling a girl nice is usually guy code for ‘I think you’re attractive and I could see myself sleeping with you’,” Changmin shrugs, tearing off a piece of Kevin’s donut. “But I also see where you’re coming from. You did just meet each other. He could’ve just been trying to console you in a way.”

“Why am I even friends with men when they’re useless?” You throw your head back, speaking to no one in particular.

Perhaps Kevin truly was overthinking the situation. Juyeon seemed to be a kind person who probably didn’t want any problems with his neighbors. It made sense why he’d side with you after witnessing your break up. Besides, the wounds were still too fresh to even consider thinking of anyone else in such a way. No matter how hot they may be…

You’d just have to wait and see for yourself. Only time could tell what would become of the nature of your relationship with your cute new neighbor.

You look insane with everything in your cart, filled to the brim with baking ingredients. It was around 10 PM and here you were, at the grocery store buying the things needed to make cinnamon rolls. Being a baker with a bit of a sweet tooth meant your cravings got a little out of hand at times, forcing you to make drastic decisions. (I.E. grocery shopping so late at night.)

Even your clothing choice was silly: flimsy pajama shorts with Care Bears patterned on them, a baggy t-shirt, and matching slippers. It’s not like anyone cared anyway. And it wasn’t like you were trying to impress anybody either.

But as you’re walking towards the registers, you start to regret your outfit. You very quickly spot your neighbor with a basket on his arm, waiting in line for self-checkout. You feel all the color drain from your face as you stand there, staring like an absolute idiot.

He’s dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants, a hoodie swallowing his figure. He looks so effortlessly good, it kind of makes you upset. Because how are you just now meeting a guy who’s both kind and attractive? As far as you were concerned, they didn’t exist in real life— they only existed in fairytales.

Juyeon looks up from his phone and catches your eye, his hand coming up to give you a little wave and one of those crinkly eye smiles that he does when you pass each other in the hall.

As the weeks have passed, you’ve seen him more and more than you deemed normal. You’d bump into each other on the way to or from picking up your mail, you’d hold the elevator for the other in record time, and you’d even leave your apartments at the same time. Now it appears you’re running into the guy at the supermarket, too. You tried to chalk it all up to coincidence, that you just both happened to be thinking on the same wavelength.

But shyly waving back to him right now reminds you that divine intervention had crazy ways of working its magic. Perhaps those had all just been openings for you to engage in something more with your cute neighbor. And there was only one way to find out.

You psych yourself up as you walk towards him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Juyeon’s smile grows wider as he notices you approaching. “Hey, stranger. What are you up to tonight?”

“Some late baking,” you giggle, wanting to punch yourself in the face for sounding like a goddamn school girl. “I was actually wondering if you’d like to come over and keep me company? Totally up to you of course! I just thought it might be nice to get to know each other properly.”

Your suggestion is what leads the two of you to meet back up at your apartment after purchasing your respective groceries. You attempt to tidy up as best you can while you wait for the knock at your door, setting out all the ingredients on the counter and preheating your oven.

The soft knock comes moments later and you find yourself practically running to open the door, grinning at the sheepish expression on Juyeon’s face. You allow him inside of your apartment, trailing after him into the kitchen. Part of you felt like you were moving on too fast after Daehyun. As a baker, your kitchen was your safe space. It was where you went when you needed to be alone and in the comfort of what you knew best. Kevin and Changmin were the only ones you trusted to be within that element. For you to let Juyeon in— to let him permeate the walls you’ve never let down before, not even with your ex— was brand new territory.

“I almost forgot you own a bakery,” Juyeon speaks up, fingers tracing along the stand mixer. “But seeing all this expensive equipment reminded me of that. It only makes sense that someone as sweet as you would constantly be around sweet treats.”

You fail to bite back your smile. Maybe this was for the better. Maybe it was okay to let your guard down every once in a while, so long as it was always for your flirty neighbor. He laughs when you nudge his shoulder, grabbing all the dry ingredients for the dough.

“On a scale of one to ten, how patient are you?” You ask, avoiding his eyes as you open the flour. The question was in regards to several things.

“I’d say about an eight or nine. Patience is a virtue, you know. It comes easily if you practice hard enough.” He answers, leaning against the counter and watching you.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, searching for your measuring cups. Both you and Juyeon begin to measure out the dry ingredients, dumping them into the mixing bowl. You decide to let him take some of the reins, folding in the mixture of milk, egg, butter, and yeast. While he does that, you prepare the cinnamon sugar.

“I think I’m done. What do I do next?” He turns to you, head cocked to the side slightly. You might actually die of cuteness aggression. The duality of man would one day drive you to the brink of insanity.

“Now you just knead it until it’s smooth.” Your back is to him as you say this, putting away any refrigerated items so they don’t go bad. But as you face him again, you wish you hadn’t.

Your eyes zero in on his hands, kneading the dough with careful, nimble fingers. You feel light-headed as you slip into a spell, gawking at how long and slender they are, massaging the dough like an expert. How had you never noticed how big and pretty his hands were?

Maybe baking with Juyeon was a bad idea. You could barely focus on anything but his fingers pressing the under-construction-cinnamon rolls into the counter. Oh how badly you wanted to be that dough— his hands all over you, groping and massaging and kneading and caressing everywhere they could reach.

The veins running up his arms weren’t helping either, instead fueling the fire burning in the pit of your stomach. You feel your lips part, eyes glossed over with that all too familiar lustful intensity. You wouldn’t be surprised if you had to wipe away drool after this.

“Y/N?” Juyeon glances up from the dough, a little taken aback by your reverie. He follows your line of sight, grinning to himself smugly when he realizes what has you so transfixed. He’s finally found your weakness, and he couldn’t wait to dangle it over your head. Patience was a virtue, but perhaps it would be okay for him to dabble with a vice for once.

He pushes out the dough, using his thumbs to spread it into a rectangular shape. He feels his blood pressure rising the darker your eyes get. However, he’s aware that you just recently got out of a relationship. He wants to move at a pace you’re comfortable with. So he won’t take the first step. He has to leave that up to you.

It’s at a certain point that you come to, blinking to force away the dirty thoughts plaguing your mind. You travel your field of vision to his face, where you find him already looking at you. Your cheeks heat up in mortification from being caught red-handed. You were just gawking at the poor guy’s like they were a piece of fresh meat. This was terrible.

You swallow thickly, averting eye contact to grab the bowl of cinnamon sugar. “Uh, we can start forming the rolls now so they can rise. And then— um— and then we can make the glaze.”

The burn of his gaze on your profile has you tripping over your words, cinnamon sugar sprinkling onto the counter space surrounding and the knife almost slipping from your grip when you go to cut the dough. Juyeon catches it for you, wrapping his fingers around yours to guide your movements and keep them steady.

You feel his breath behind your ear, his chest pressed to your back. His hand is so much larger than your own, nearly covering it entirely. He doesn’t make an effort to move either, rolling the dough into swirl shapes along with you. The whole time this is happening, neither of you are saying a word, letting the silence consume you and the air around you.

As the rolls are rising/baking, you set up everything necessary for making the icing. Juyeon watches with hearts in his eyes as you whisk the sugar, cream cheese, vanilla, and butter in a separate bowl. He wonders how many other people you let see you in this setting. How many people get to see you do the thing you love so dearly?

“I’d like to visit your bakery sometime, if you wouldn’t mind,” Juyeon suddenly says, resting his elbows on the counter as you taste test the icing. “I wanna try all of the desserts you bake.”

“I’m opening later tomorrow morning actually,” you smile, humming in appreciation when the sweetness of the glaze hits your taste buds. “You can come with me to try the fresh batches before I put them out? I’ll warn you though, I get there at like six.”

“AM?” His eyes practically pop out of their sockets.

“Yes, AM.” You laugh, lightly shoving him backwards.

“I’ll put like ten alarms so I can make sure I’m up in time, then.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tipping his head to the side. The goofy smile on your face remains even after minutes have passed and the two of you are just waiting for the cinnamon rolls to finish baking.

It feels like hours have gone by with the two of you standing there when they’re finally ready. The ding of the oven has you springing into action, putting on some oven mitts and taking out the baking sheet. Juyeon's eyes light up and even though you’d just been losing your mind over how insane he was making you, you find yourself cooing at him.

He laughs as you grab a couple spare icing bags for the cinnamon roll glaze, filling them generously. You hand one over to him and decide to split the rolls evenly, icing one half yourself while he does the other. And for once, you think that tonight might end normally. You think that nothing eventful will happen and you’ll just ice the cinnamon rolls without problems.

But you were wrong, like always.

“Ah, shit—”

You glance up from the roll you were glazing to see what the fuss was about. Juyeon’s icing bag tore somehow, the sticky topping getting all over his hand. Truly, you were no better than a man, with the filthy thoughts inhabiting your brain almost instantaneously.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, licking the glaze off the back of his hand and wrapping his lips around his thumb. You felt dizzy, drunk on the sight of your extremely attractive neighbor doing something so sensual without even trying to. You bite your lip, accidentally dropping your own icing bag due to lack of attention.

Juyeon smirks slightly, relishing in the way it takes absolutely nothing to hypnotize you with his hands alone. He really tried to keep himself contained. He really wanted you to extend the first olive branch, but he knows you’re apprehensive. So just this once, he tells himself that it’s okay to initiate, to give you a little push in the right direction.

He takes a step closer to you, caging you against the counter. You stare up at him with wide, doe eyes, as if you were completely innocent despite the naughty images flashing behind them. Juyeon brings his thumb up to your lips, the pad of it still covered in icing.

“Think you could clean this up for me?” He asks, voice low and husky. You could actually combust with that all on its own.

Just like your formal introduction, you don’t give yourself the time to think, and act, instead, running your tongue along the length of his thumb. Juyeon doesn’t restrain the groan in the back of his throat, holding your face in his hands and pulling you in for a kiss.

You reciprocate immediately, fisting his hoodie like it was the only thing capable of stabilizing you. Maybe it was, with the way Juyeon’s lips synchronized with yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. You thought the ground would swallow you whole and wake you up from this dream. On what planet did someone like Lee Juyeon like a girl like you?

His hands slide down your body, groping everything in their path desperately before cupping under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter. He knocks the baking sheet of cinnamon rolls out of the way, palms rubbing up and down the sides of your legs. You want more, so much more, but you’re afraid to ask. You’re afraid to start something you’re not even sure you can emotionally handle.

Juyeon senses your hesitation, detaching from you momentarily. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I understand if you still need time.”

“N-No, I want this— I want you— I'm just… scared.” You breathe, your forehead using his shoulder for support.

“I'm not him, Y/N. I can give you the world if you’d let me. I’d never do what he did to you, that’s a promise.” He holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing the crown of your head.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling up at him. “I trust you, Juyeon.”

You reconnect your lips as his fingers slip beneath your pajama shorts, toying with the waistband of your panties. His lips curl up when he feels you squirm, legs parting to make more room for him in the middle of them. You sigh, body shuddering when he drags his knuckle down your clothed slit.

Juyeon hooks his fingers into your shorts and underwear, hauling them down your legs. You place your hands behind you to brace yourself, a shiver trailing your spine when the cool air of your apartment hits your warm core. He groans again at the sight of you bare for him, using two fingers to spread your lower lips.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he swears, his thumb slowly circling your clit.

You whine, tossing your head back as he applies more pressure. Bit by bit, you begin to lose yourself to the pleasure of Juyeon’s gorgeous hands. Soon the stimulation on your clit amplifies when he adds another finger, thrusting it in and out of your entrance. He curls deep inside of you, like he was reaching for something he’d left.

One finger turns to two, and before you know it, Juyeon’s openly finger fucking you on the counter. He leans over your body to keep your lips together, kissing you sloppily while all his focus is on drawing you to the edge. You can almost taste it, your saccharine release in your field of vision now.

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly he was able to wind you up and trip you over the edge, but you feel too euphoric to care. You pause in your kiss to look down at his handy work. (No pun intended.) It makes your head feel foggy and your vision blurry to see his deft fingers fucking you open, veins bulging, like he’d done this many times before. Your hooded eyes follow them up his forearms, a whine escaping your lips.

A particular curl of his fingers and circle of his thumb have you clenching around him, creaming like you’d never had an orgasm in your life. He doesn’t slow his assault, bringing you down just to put you back up on that summit once again. The overstimulation has you cumming a second time in a matter of what felt like seconds, whimpers becoming voluminous moans.

Juyeon kisses you softly, gently pulling out his fingers to lick them clean like he did with the cinnamon roll glaze. A choked groan bubbles past your mouth, tossing an arm over your eyes. He laughs, towing you to the edge of the counter.

He brushes some stray hairs out of your face, moving your arm to smile dopily at you. “I hope you know I was being serious about the whole treating you better thing. If you’ll give me the chance.”

“I know. I told you I trust you, remember?” You nip at the inside of your cheek. His eyes crinkle up like they tend to do when he’s smiling so genuinely. It forces the wind out of you, because how could you ever get used to a sight so stunning?

“You’re so cute.” He laughs, kissing all around your face and smushing your cheeks together.

“Juyeon,” you mumble. “I’m half naked…”

“Even better,” he grins, pecking the tip of your nose. “Makes it that much easier to do all of the other things I wanna do to you.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smut #juyeon x reader #juyeon smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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Starring: Frat boy! Sukuna and a (possibly) pregnant reader

Synopsis: Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. While it can be read on it's own, this is also part of the Frat Boy Au, which you can read here!

Content Warnings: a pregnancy scare, other than that, it's mostly fluff ;)

(Also, if yall want a song to go with the fic: New Mistakes by Jellyfish inspired it)

You had experienced time slowing down before. It slowed down as you walked across the stage for your high school graduation. It had slowed down again when you got your acceptance letter to college. It slowed down the first time you saw your now boyfriend, and when you met his mom for the first time. But it had never been slower than it was now, as you sat on your bed, staring at the Clearblue pregnancy test in your hand.

“Well, what’s it say?!” You roommate, Mei Mei, asked- arguably more nervous than you were. She knew Ryomen was bad news, but she didn’t think he was this fucking bad. She moved to try and take the test from your hand, only for Shoko to slap her shoulder.

“Stop making a bad situation worse Mei.” Shoko growled, irritated from not being able to light a cigarette during this high stress situation.

“Two lines…” You mumbled, not looking up from the stick, “Two lines, what does two lines mean!?” Their expressions told you everything you needed to know. Panic filled you as you dropped the test and grabbed a pillow to scream into. God, how could you have let this happen?! Your period was only a few days late, you had taken the test mostly to put Mei Mei at ease. You didn’t know if you were happy you took it or not anymore.

“It’s okay Y/n, we’ll figure this out.” Shoko sighed as she rubbed your back, failing to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“How am I supposed to tell him?!” You panicked as you ripped your head up from the pillow, “How do you tell someone you ruined there life?!”

“You ruined his life?!” Mei Mei scoffed in disbelief at the assertion, “You should be asking him how the hell he plans to make this up to you! He ruined your life!”

“Nobody's life is ruined!” Shoko snapped at the both of you. “It’s a baby not cancer, Jesus fucking Christ. And it’s not like you don’t have options. You’re the one in control here Y/n, whatever you want to happen will happen.” She said, motherly assurance uncharacteristically thick in her tone. It did make you feel a little bit better about the situation. You weren’t absolutely powerless here.

And it wasn’t like you were against being a mother. Quite the contrary, you liked the idea. Of course, you never thought it would be this soon in your life, but…the universe had a funny way of handling things. And if you were going to have a baby, you didn’t think you could have picked a better guy than Ryomen. He was loving, and kind, not to mention the fact he was guaranteed a good job out of college. But, you also knew that he was beyond nervous about being a dad one day, terrified by the notion of becoming his own father.

“I need to talk to Ryomen.” You sighed.

🍼🍼🍼

“Dude, In what world does a theoretical physicist need to know about the themes of The Metamorphosis, so a dude becomes a bug, so wh-”

“Hey, shut up Y/n just texted me.” Ryomen cut Satoru off as he checked his phone, the buzzing alerting him to a notification. They were sitting next to each other on the couch, venting about classes they hated. Sugruru was sitting on the arm of the couch closest to Satoru, and Nanami taking up an entire love seat across from them as he played on his own phone. It was a relief to have an excuse to end this conversation really. Ryomen did not have it in him to try and listen to his frat brother straight up misunderstand classic literature for the millionth time.

“And you couldn’t wait to answer it until I finished my sen-”

“No, Y/n texted.” Ryomen said without looking up from his phone, but trusting his tone got across his annoyance. Satoru knew you took precedence, Ryomen didn't know why he was acting like you didn’t all of the sudden.

“And she couldn't wait for two-”

“Are you still talking?” Ryomen snapped. Satoru let out an irritated grumble, frustrated he couldn’t go on his (ill informed) rant about how classic American literature, and literature in general, was useless. “Y/n wants to come over.” Ryomen informed his frat brothers. “Like, now.”

“What’s up with Y/n?” Suguru asked from his spot on the arm of couch, deciding it was safe to enter the conversation now that there was no hope of Satoru going on his rant.

“No clue, she just says we need to talk.” He grumbled softly as he typed on his phone. It wasn’t like you to be this cagey about anything, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t concern him at least a little.

“Dude, shes gonna break up with you.” Satoru's mouth moved faster than his brain did, and for it he got a swift elbow to the stomach.

“No she’s not.” Ryomen hissed. “She just wants to talk.”

“It’s probably to make plans for fall break, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Nanami said, quickly getting irritated with all the arguing.

“Yeah, the dorms close in, what, like two weeks?” Suguru confirmed, “She’s probably gonna ask to stay with your family so she doesn't have to fly back to her own.”

“You’re probably right.” Ryomen took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. That made sense. You got along great with his mom and brother, and your own family basically not at all. It tracked that you would rather drive a few hours and spend a week with people you liked than fly out to people you didn’t. Yeah, that made sense. Yeah.

So why did he still feel so anxious?

🍼🍼🍼

Ryomen had never been more convinced that you were going to leave him than he was now. As you sat across from him on the bed, starring at your fidgeting hands as if they held the secrets to the universe. Something was palpably wrong, he could feel it hanging in a thick veil between the two of you. He didn’t know if he should reach beyond it to hold you, or give you your space and let you come to him. He settled on nervously picking at his nails.

“So, uh, you wanted to talk?” He asked.

“Yeah, I, uh..I’m just trying to think of how to say this.” You muttered. He felt the color drain from his life when you said that. What did he do? Was it about Amy- or whatever the fuck her name was? That was a month ago now, surly it wasn’t that. Was it someone else? That thought made Ryomen realize that actually, he was capable of murder.

He could feel his jaw clench at the thought of you with another man, white hot rage filling his hands and emotions while images of you with a stranger flashed in his head against his will. What the fuck did that asshole have that he didn’t? What made them think they were worthy of your smile, of your laugh, of you? Who did they think they were?

“Ryomen, I’m pregnant.”

“He’ll never love you like I do.” There was a thick silence of a different variety as they two of you spoke over each other, both of you trying to process what the other said.

“A-are you saying the…baby won’t love me?” You weren’t offended, you were just confused.

“You’re fucking pregnant?” Ryomen could feel his entire world shifting in real time. Thank god you weren’t leaving, but…Pregnant?

“Yeah, that’s what I said, what did You say?” You questioned again, trying to figure out where the fuck that came from. Of all the things you expected him to say, it wasn’t whatever he said.

“It doesn’t really matter what I said, forget I said anything, how long have you known?” He asked, finally pushing past the veil to wrap his arms around you.

“Like…maybe thirty minuets?” You sighed, rubbing your face as the stress came back. “My period was a week late, so…I took a test, and well…Baby.” You still weren’t sure this was all real.

Ryomen felt the world freeze around him as reality took hold. A dad? He couldn’t be a fucking dad. He was in his fucking twenties, he still had two years left until he graduated, he couldn’t be a dad yet! He thought about his own father, who buckled under the pressure and ran off the moment things got hard. What if he inherited that kind of cowardice? Hell, he didn’t even have the spine to tell his dad to fuck off when he came back in his life after eleven years of radio silence just to completely take control of his future, how the fuck was he supposed to raise a child?!

“Babygirl, that’s amazing!” He smiled, pulling you into his lap and kissing your forehead, “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

“You think so?” You whispered, taking some comfort in his confidence, It eased your own fear about the uncertain future.

“Of course I do.” He assured you with the grin that got you into this mess in the first place. Ryomen was fucking petrified of what came next, and he could tell you were too. To him, easing your fear was the most important thing. He could have his own freak out later, right now he needed to be here for you.

And his words did the trick. Slowly you could feel the tension melting from your shoulders as it settled in that he wasn’t mad, and you weren’t in this alone. “God, I was so scared you where going to leave.” You confessed, feeling the tears pool in the corner of your eyes. His arms tightened around you, holding you like he feared you might be the one to run.

“I’m not going anywhere Babygirl, I promise,” He swore to you, kissing the top of your head, “Wherever you are, that’s were I’ll be. Right next to you and our baby.” His smile was so reassuring, for a second, you actually felt hopeful for the future. He pulled your face to his, and you melted into his kiss.

Ryomen laid with you in his bed, cuddling and talking softly until you finally passed out. He insisted on you staying the night with him, if for no other reason than he found comfort in having you near. He waited until he knew you were in a deep sleep, breathing softly and steadily. He kissed your cheek before he slipped out of bed, into the kitchen for a beer, then out to the balcony to drink it. He was leaning against the old wooden railing, running a hand through his hair as he tried to visualize what his future would look like now.

“So a baby, huh?” He nearly jumped out of his skin at Suguru's voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ, a warning Geto!” He hissed as he took a drink of the cheap beer, giving Suguru the side eye as he leaned next to him.

“Sorry, I’ll make sure to yell at the top of my lungs everywhere I go from now on.” Suguru chuckled softly.

“How do you know we’re having a baby?” Suguru grimaced a little at the pink haired mans question, knowing he got the information through unethical means.

“Satoru listened in on yours and Y/n conversation.” He said as if his ear wasn’t pressed up against the door too, “Sorry.”

“Mmm.” Ryomen groaned, not wanting to accept the apology, but acknowledging it none the less.

“So…whats the plan?” Suguru asked the question no one really wanted to ask, but everyone wanted the answer to.

“The plan is I’m going to be a dad, I guess.” Ryomen grumbled, not really use to the idea yet. He took another drink.

“Well, in that case, congratulations then!” Suguru smiled, taking the cheap beer from Ryomen’s hand and lifting it up, “To the new dad! You’ll do great.” He said as he took a drink.

“Gee, thanks you’re too kind.” Ryomen scoffed.

“Hey man, I’m serious.” Suguru insisted, “I think you’ll be a great dad, if for no other reason than cause your dad sucked. You have the perfect example of what not to do.”

“No I don’t.” Ryomen argued, stress edging into his tone against his will, “My dad wasn’t even there to show me what to not do, he was fucking gone! I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do!” His panic was getting the better of him. He took his beer back and took another drink.

“No one does.” Suguru chuckled, still as calm as ever. “You think this shit comes with a manual? No parent in the long history of parenting has ever known what they were doing. But, you’re worried about it. You’re worried about being a good dad. And that’s further than any shitty parent gets. Probably further than you’re dad got. It shows you care man. And besides, you’ll have Y/n with you. She’s going to be a fantastic mom. If shes got the patience to deal with us, a toddler will be a breeze.”

“I don’t know man. What if…what if I am just like my dad?” Ryomen muttered. He looked just like him. He was going to take over his business. Hell, after his dad forced him to be a business major, Ryomen even changed his last name back to his fathers. It made sense at the time, a Sukuna should be the one to take over the Sukuna family business. But, now? Now that he had to pass that last name on? He wasn’t sure he wanted it. “What if it’s just…in my blood to be my dad?”

Suguru actually laughed at that, hard enough to embarrass the man next to him. “Ryomen, being a shitty person is not genetic I assure you. If it was, Nanami would be a lot more insufferable. It’s not up to our parents to decide who we are as people, that for us to decide and us alone. You’re not your DNA sequencing, you’re the actions that you take and the choices that you make. Your father has no control over that.”

“I mean…yeah. I guess you’re right.” Ryomen muttered, taking another drink before handing the bottle back to Suguru. As cliche as it may have been to say, he was starting to feel better. Maybe he wasn't doomed to be his father. Maybe the Sukuna name wasn’t a death sentence.

“Of course I’m right.” Suguru grinned as he finished off the beer. “So what are you going to do now?” He asked.

“Now?” Ryomen sighed, “Now I need to go talk to my mom.”

🍼🍼🍼

It was a week before Ryomen found the time to make the drive home. A week that he spent attached to your hip. A week making sure you didn’t have to lift up a single thing, a week of threatening anyone who dared smoke around you, and a week of coming to terms with his new future. The two of you had spent the time researching doctors, and on baby forums looking for advice. He was relieved to admit, he kinda became fond of the idea of having a little baby running around.

He started to imagine what they would look like, what they would sound like, and what their favorite color would be. Money wouldn’t be an issue once he took over Malevolent Shrine International, so he wasn’t worried about that. Honestly, you wouldn't have to work if you didn’t want to, and if you did want to he could afford child care. The two- No. The three of you were going to be okay. He hoped it would be only three.

He knocked on the door of his childhood home, having forgot his key and not being willing to go all the way back for it. Much to his dismay, Yuji answered the door.

“Sorry, sign says no solicitors.” He said, quickly trying to close the door. Ryomen was fast to push against him, trying to get his body through the crack in the entry.

“Open the door brat or I’m going to wipe your hard drive.” Ryomen threatened,

“College hasn’t changed you one bit, has it?” Yuji scoffed, sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“It’s made me more prone to violence, wanna see?” Ryomen growled as he pushed against the door harder. Yuji stood firm though, an immovable object to Ryomen’s unstoppable force.

“I’m going to tell Y/n you said that!” It was Yuji’s turn to threaten, “I’m also going to tell her that you beat me up! And you’re mean! And that you kick kittens!”

“Why you little-” Ryomen finally got his arm through the small space, almost getting a hand on his little brother before his mothers voice brought the entire show to a halt.

“Are you two Trying to break my door?!” She sounded exasperated, “Yuji, let your brother in!” The moment their mother got involved the boys remembered how to act, with Yuji calmly opening the door and Ryomen walking in like he wasn’t just trying to strangle his little sibling.

“Hi Mom.” He said, smiling warmly as she came up and hugged him.

“Hi Honey,” She said, giving him a soft pat on the cheek. “Wheres Y/n? I made coffee.”

“She had a test today, she couldn’t make it.” He said. That was a lie. You were completely free, but, he didn't want you here for this conversation.

“Mmm, you know your ears turn red when you lie, right?” His mom laughed as she walked to the kitchen. He followed her with a roll of his eyes, sitting at the kitchen table.

“She was busy, alright?” He defended himself as his mom put a coffee cup in front of him, sitting across from him with her own.

“Sure. So what did you need to talk about sweetie?” She asked. Ryomen took a moment to really study his mom. She didn’t look so different from how he remembered her in his childhood. A few more wrinkles, a lot more gray hair, but still his mother none the less. He wondered how she felt when she realized she was having a baby.

“So, um…Y/n is…” He couldn’t make eye contact.

“Ryomen, don’t tell me you got that poor girl pregnant.” She gasped, putting down her mug and looking at him with demanding eyes.

“Why would you jump to that?!” He tried to deflect.

“Then tell me she’s not.” She said, looking at him with a scowl that dared him to try and lie.

“....She is.” He sighed, taking a drink from his coffee to get away from her disappointed gaze.

“Sweet Jesus...” His mom sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. Then she laughed a little, shaking her head with a soft smile she tried to hide behind her coffee cup.

“What?” He asked. She shook her head again.

“Nothing just…well, I guess I was around your age when I had you. A little younger. You can’t really be mad at the apple for not falling too far from the tree now, can you?” She chuckled softly, and it put Ryomen at ease. So she wasn’t going to eviscerate him. Good.

“Yeah, well…Gotta honor some family traditions, am I right?” He tried to joke, only to be quickly shut up by his mothers disapproving glare.

“So whats your plan big man?” She asked, “You’re not going to leave her alone with this, that’s for damn sure.”

“No mom, I couldn’t even imagine-”

“Good, cause I’ll choose Y/n over you every time.” She teased.

“I know mom.” He smiled, “Good to know you like her, cause that makes this question a lot easier to ask.”

“Oh?” He really caught her attention now.

“I was wondering, do you know where Grandmas wedding ring is?” He bit his lip as he finally said it out loud. Even before you were pregnant, every time Ryomen imagined his future, it was always with you as his wife. He couldn’t conceive of a life without you by his side, now more so than ever. He was going to make things right, and unlike his own dad, he wasn’t going to wait for the second baby to do it. He knew he was on the right track when he saw his mothers proud smile.

“As a matter of a fact, I think I do. I think I know where some of your old baby clothes are too, hold on.”

🍼🍼🍼

“Ryo!” You smiled as he walked into the entry of the frat house, carrying a walmart bag of old baby clothes. You were down the stairs and in his arms in an instant, laughing happily as you jumped to him. He caught you with a grin, spinning you around before putting you back on the ground.

“I could get used to that.” He teased. You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“I’m sure you could. Ryo, I have amazing news, I- wait, what’s in the bag?” You asked as your brain finally registered that there was something in his hand.

“Oh, yeah!” He smiled excitedly as he put the bag on the coffee table, “Remember how I went to talk to my mom? She says hi by the way, but look! She still had some of mine and Yuji’s old baby clothes!” He said, pulling out a truly precious onesie, covered in stars and a rocket ship, followed by a red, blue, and yellow stripped jumper.

“Oh baby-” You sighed as you realized your good news might actually not be good news.

“I know it’s not a lot, and its all kinda old and used, but it’s a start, you know? Something to bring the baby home in.” He said, putting the clothes down and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Baby, I’m not pregnant.” You dropped that like a nuke. He blinked at you as he tried to process what you just said.

“Huh?”

“I’m not pregnant Ryomen, I’m sorry. I got my period.” You said, gently cupping his cheek. You did not expect a reaction like this at all. Confusion, sure, but not…disappointment?

“But I thought you took a test?” He asked, trying to catch up to reality.

“I did, but it must have been a false positive. Apparently that’s pretty common with my birth control.”

“Oh…” He wasn’t expecting to feel so upset about this either. Like the entire world he had build up in his mind was gone. He realized he was going to be mourning the death of someone who truly never existed, and felt so ridiculous about it. He didn’t realize he was tearing up until you brushed a tear off his cheek.

“I’m sorry Ryo…but, hey! Look on the bright side, we get to keep our twenties!” You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled gently and nodded.

“You’re right it’s just…I don’t know. I kinda liked the idea of starting a family with you.” He confessed softly, an idea that would have made his skin crawl just a little over a year ago. You really did force him to grow up. You laughed a little more sincerely this time, and gave him a quick kiss.

“Sorry Ryo, if you want a family, you’re gonna have to upgrade from the girlfriend package to the wifey bundle.” You teased him.

“Y/n!” Gojo yelled from up the stairs, “Nanami got tired of waiting for you, he un-paused the game!” You paled as you realized that Nanami was unfairly demolishing you at street fighter.

“Hey! That’s illegal!” You yelled as you ran up the stairs to try and salvage the round. Ryomen watched as you ran away, an unfamiliar fondness growing in his chest. Normally, he would have been unbelievably jealous you were hanging out with his friends- especially without him. Now though? He saw it as a good sign.

“Upgrade, huh?” He muttered, mostly to himself. His hand dropped into his pocket, clutching the ring box there. “Don’t worry Y/n. I plan on it.” He promised as he went up stairs to join you.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk frat boy au #frat boy sukuna #sukuna fluff #domestic sukuna #curseless au #dad sukuna #sukuna x reader fluff

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moralesmilesanhour · 8 months

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if you believe in me - 01

summary: You and Miles decide to make it official. Kind of. wc: 763 warnings: none a/n: I love setting my characters up for failure <3

Miles hadn't texted you at all since the kiss, but not for lack of trying.

He would begin to type out a message:

"hi".

No, too empty. Perhaps a bit creepy.

Backspace.

"hey :)"

Would you expect him to use smiley faces? No, it felt too different to how he spoke in real life. Backspace.

Maybe he should rip a page out of his classmates' playbook. It always seemed to work for them when he peered over at their screens.

"wyd?"

He frowned at his phone in bewilderment. Why would he ask that all of a sudden with no context?

Backspace.

"Hey, Y/N! Just checking in to see how you're doing."

Miles mentally cursed himself when he realized how much the text sounded like an email.

He flopped down onto his bed in defeat, and checked his digital alarm clock. 7:30 pm. He had been sitting there for an entire half hour and could hardly get a greeting out, probably leaving you to wonder why the boy who had literally kissed you last week couldn’t be bothered to send a text.

Miles knew that today would be special when his phone alarm actually woke him up - and from a dreamless sleep, at that. Normally the sun would practically blind him after the curtains were thrown open by his mother, yelling frantically about how he was going to be late in half an hour. The sky was miraculously just turning a periwinkle blue outside, and the possibility of actually getting breakfast seemed within reach for once.

Miles squinted to read the menu above him. Ordering a spicy beef patty before 8 in the morning sounded like a poor dietary decision, so he went with a bacon egg and cheese sandwich like everyone else. As soon as he backed up from the counter, he made the mistake of glancing to his right at the fridge containing drinks on the other side of the bodega, and his stomach dropped.

Your jacket was instantly recognizable, even from a mile away.

Miles threw on his hoodie and shuffled over to the aisle behind him, where he pretended to be preoccupied with a container of instant coffee while trying to keep his face covered. When he saw movement in his periphery, he ducked his head and inched his way towards the freezer that contained his prized can of Arizona tea. He was about to reach for the handle, just inches away from success, when your voice stopped him:

“Morales?!? Where the hell have you been?”

Fuck.

“Hey,” Miles gave you a tight smile as he turned slowly to face you. “How…how are you?”

“I’m good,” you nodded, before lightly smacking him in the arm. “Haven’t heard from you in a minute, though. Why I ain’t catch you in class?”

The boy shrugged. “I dunno. Still in the same seat every day. Maybe you just missed me.”

As he said this, Miles recalled seeing you in the cafeteria while making his way upstairs the other day and ducking behind a trash can before your eyes could meet. You having gone back to your regular seat in AP Calc made avoidance even easier; he could simply time when he went over to his seat, a small crowd of students providing ample cover.

“Chopped cheese!” a man called out from the front, interrupting his thoughts.

“That’s me,” you said with a grin.

“”Bacon egg and cheese!”

“And that’s me,” Miles replied as he spun around to retrieve his order, making sure to leave room for you to pass behind him after grabbing your sandwich.

Once outside, he realized that you were staring at him. Not just in passing, but expectantly. Was he meant to do something?

“What?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

“You like me, right?”

“I-um…yeah,” Miles’ eyes darted away from your face. “I don’t think I’d kiss anybody I didn’t like.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you didn’t text me at all afterwards. I was starting to get the wrong impression!”

He snorted, “Well, now you’ve got the right one.”

“Sooo…” you tilted your head. “Does that mean we’re like, a thing now?”

He tensed at the suggestion. ‘A thing’. You’d think it was obvious what that meant, but what did it really mean in tenth grade? Sit at home and kiss a lot?

But your smile began to falter the longer he took, and the sight stung him.

“I guess we are,” Miles finally replied. He looked down. “What are you doing?”

“Holding your hand, duh!”

He let you intertwine your fingers with his, tentatively squeezing them in return.

#miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x black!reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #moralesanhour

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sunboki · 2 months

Text

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.