#but it does outline what abuse can look like
Text
I don't say this to invalidate Jonathan as an abuse survivor, nor do I encourage people to treat survival like a competition in any way. This is so that people understand the differences in what Jonathan and Billy were up against. Here's the abuse of children wheel for reference:
Note: This wheel isn't exhaustive. There could be abusive behavior that is unaccounted for. The Duluth Model is also not perfect, as it focuses primarily on the abuse of women and children by male abusers. Still, this model provides a good overview of what abusive behavior can look like.
Long Post Under Read More...
My memory isn't perfect, so feel free to correct me, especially when it comes to Lonnie Byers. I will also reference Runaway Max insomuch that it provides a possible look at Neil's behavior in the overall canon with an awareness that the novel itself isn't actually consistent with the TV timeline. While events may or may not be the same, the abuse that is portrayed in the book and Neil's characterization is consistent with what is implied or explicitly shown in the show.
We don't know a lot about Lonnie's time with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will. What we do know is that Lonnie was emotionally abusive towards both Jonathan and Will for being sensitive. He's not a good father, but in terms of long term power and control over Joyce, Jonathan, and Will, he has none. This is taken from him when Joyce separates from him. This act also empowers Jonathan to take a stand against him.
When we look at the wheel, there is some attempt at physical violence. The extent of violence towards Jonathan and Will is unclear. It's implied that he was emotionally and physically abusive towards Joyce, and a bad spouse who only cared about his desires. He used homophobic language towards Will, and Jonathan as the older sibling tried to protect Will from the ongoing arguments between Lonnie and Joyce, and any possible domestic violence he was responsible for.
Lonnie Byers used intimidation tactics on Joyce and the children. He may have tried to use institutions against Joyce to "win" arguments, but this isn't clear. The Byers are isolated because of their class, but it's unclear if he intentionally tried to isolate his children from their peers. He is emotionally abusive towards both his children. He doesn't appear to be economically responsible, as he contributes nothing to the family and attempts to exploit his son's death for profit. He does attempt to use his privilege as an adult to push and threaten Jonathan who with Joyce's help is able to kick him out.
Any power and control Lonnie has over his family has already been lost by the time The Byer's story is established in the first season. He comes back into their lives briefly as Will disappears and is presumed dead, when he tries to cash in on suing the quarry. He is a cheater, an alcoholic, and an opportunist. He is a dog with no bite, though, as any adult privilege and institutional power he may have had was ruined by his own reckless behavior and neglect. He is an abuser who neglected his responsibilities as a parent. However, he is not as we will see with Neil this kind of "mastermind" when it comes to power and control.
No child should have to take a stand against an abusive parent, but Jonathan did so with a relatively lower risk to his safety as Lonnie had already lost significant power and control over his family through Joyce's separation from him. It was still brave. It doesn't invalidate the seriousness of the situation to say this. It is just to establish that Joyce, Jonathan, and Will were and are in a different stage of "recovery" than Billy who I'll discuss next.
Without a doubt, Billy's father has more power and control over Billy than Lonnie has over Jonathan and Will. That doesn't invalidate anything Jonathan and Will may have gone through, but it's also important to be real about the danger of immediate harm an abused person is in when we have discussions like these. Unfortunately, Billy's story is split up into pieces across different mediums and he never gets to tell his own story. Still, there's more than enough evidence to show that Billy is at higher risk of being harmed by his parent and the kind of harm done to him spans almost all categories in the power and control wheel used above.
If we work backwards, we know that Neil abused Billy's mom. His physical violence is explicitly shown. Billy tries to protect his mother as a child, but he's also thrown to the ground. Then, Billy's mother leaves without taking him making him vulnerable to Neil's violence on a regular basis. This is not true for Jonathan and Will. Neil having full custody of Billy is dangerous for Billy, who has no rights or privileges to protect him as a child. Neil is continually able to use his adult privilege to control Billy and punish him if he does anything "wrong." Again, this is not true for Jonathan or Will.
If we take anything from Runaway Max to be true in combination with what we know to be canon in the show, Neil has used almost every single method on the power and control wheel to abuse Billy and there is no indication that he has stopped the entirety that Billy is on screen. Neil uses intimidation effectively to make Billy do what he wants him to do. This isn't true for Lonnie, who can't force his children to listen to him anymore. Neil threatens to send Billy away in the book (using institutions), and he moves Billy far from California in both the book and show which is a way of isolating Billy and using his adult privilege to control who Billy is able to see and where he is able to go. Lonnie doesn't have that kind of control over Jonathan and Will.
Similar to Lonnie, Neil is emotionally abusive. This kind of abuse is perhaps the most common, and it can do serious damage to a child's well being. This is where I want to emphasize that just because Lonnie isn't as immediately dangerous as Neil doesn't mean he didn't harm his children or that they don't need to heal from his abuse. That being said, Billy was still being subjected to this kind of abuse from his father who also called him slurs and hit him with no one to protect him. He had been abandoned by his mother who was the only one to express any joy or love for him. This did not happen to Jonathan and Will who still have a mother who loves them.
Continually denying a child their parent's love and actively teaching them that they're unlovable through emotional abuse and abandonment doesn't encourage any child to act positively or help others or be nice. Why would it? There's no motivation to try when the child is taught that no matter what they do they will be mistreated. That's what we see happen to Billy.
If you've read the book, then you know that Neil beats Billy unconscious. This may or may not be true for the show, but Neil's physical violence and Billy's reaction to it heavily imply that this happens regularly. Billy isn't shocked and he doesn't fight back. People have argued that Jonathan is braver than Billy because he pushes Lonnie away, but again Billy's situation is much more dangerous as he lacks any kind of support system outside of his father's custody over him and Neil is quantitatively more violent than Lonnie.
When people see scenes of Billy being abused or read about them, I want people to understand that these are not one and done incidents of abuse. They represent a pattern of behavior. A pattern of power and control over Billy by his abuser. When people look at these scenes, they need to understand that these things were happening to Billy frequently even if we don't see it happening frequently on screen.
I've seen people argue that Billy at ~12 years old is "continuing the cycle of violence" by bullying other kids while he's being abused, but I think that it's pretty harmful to compare a child's violence to that of their adult abuser. There are a multitude of cases of child abuse where a child exhibits violent behavior after enduring prolonged abuse at home. To say that child is now becoming the abuser isn't right, and it is that kind of thinking that trap these abused children in a dangerous situation without intervention.
Jonathan and Will weren't surviving the same situation as Billy, and they weren't left with the same choices to make. You can argue that everything is a choice, but a child who is in the custody of their abuser will behave a lot differently from a child who has a safe adult to live with. Children and even teens don't have all the tools to cope with abuse, so to praise one for surviving well and to condemn the other for not surviving well ignores the role that adults in our society play in protecting all abused children. We can't pick and choose who deserves to be treated with human dignity.
Billy has endured more abuse than Jonathan and Will. Neil is more violent than Lonnie. Neil has more power and control over Billy than Lonnie has over Jonathan and Will. Jonathan and Will have a loving mother and friends. Billy's mother abandoned him, and his step mother doesn't protect him. These should not be controversial statements to make, but I think people look at statements like these and think that saying these things invalidates the abuse that Jonathan and Will went through. It doesn't. It's just different, and it's ironic when the people who say that we're invalidating their trauma go on to mock Billy's suffering or use either Jonathan or Will as models of who Billy should be while surviving abuse.
At the end of the day, we've got to stop comparing apples to oranges here. Yes, I know. I've technically compared the two here, but it's only to establish that really these situations are different even if all child abuse can cause harm no matter the "degree" of it. We can't always predict how that will impact a child, but we do know things like early intervention and support systems matter. The fact that Jonathan and Will had that but Billy didn't, does matter.
#billy hargrove#jonathan byers#abuse tw#the duluth model#again not a perfect model#but it does outline what abuse can look like
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reverie, (18+)
♡ Pairing: Prince!Hyujin x Lord's Daughter!Reader
♡ Genre: royal au, historical au, love at first sight, fairy tale elements, angst, fluff, eventual smut
♡ Word Count: 18.9k
♡ Summary: Staring out from your window everyday where you live confined, Hyunjin sees you- melancholic, lonely, beautiful; love at first sight. He wants to know you, to take you away from where you remain, doomed to be solitary. Spending your every moment daydreaming about the perfect life, meeting Hyunjin sparks a hope that you'd long since given up on- that your reverie can become your reality.
♡ Warnings: reader has an evil step-mother and step-sisters, involuntary confinement, themes of loneliness, isolation, and emotional + verbal abuse, reader is very touch starved and has low self-esteem from her mistreatment, past + referenced parental death (none are described) as well as having a parent who is sick, outdated marriage traditions, chan is featured and goes by chris, incredibly unrealistic because of the fairy tale romance inspo lol but it's a fun read, i hope!
♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): virgin reader + virgin hyunjin, petnames (darling), loss of virginity, nipple play, oral (f + m rec), unprotected piv, creampie
♡ Notes: hey yall sorry its been a over month since my last post :') i was going thru a lot in my personal life that made it hard to write, as well as i HATED my first draft of this fic so i decided to entirely rewrite it gfsdhsdg but it's finally here after a lot of grief !! I honestly still don't like it all that much but I didn't want it to sit in my drafts any longer or rewrite for a third time so :') anyways i took a inspo for this one from rapunzel and cinderella, as well as a bit from sweeney todd (if you’ve seen the movie pls tell me you see the vision of hyunjin as jamie campbell bower’s character…) + a smidge of romeo and juliet.
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
Sighing as he watches the scenery slowly pass him by through the carriage window, a deep frown adorns Hyunjin's face. He's no stranger to traveling, and normally he quite enjoys the break from the typical royal monotony, but this time around he can't bring himself to enjoy the sights that pass him by. The abundant flower fields, the surrounding lush forest on the edges, the perfectly blue sky.. none of them prevent the melancholy from setting in; because waiting for him at today's destination, in a manor just a fair few miles outside the castle city's walls, is yet another girl hoping to be his bride.
He's tired, to put it plainly; tired of meeting girl after girl who cares not for who he is as a person, but what his lineage offers them- and he expects today to go no differently. Why would he after the countless disappointments he's faced, after the myriad of times he's expected a night to end badly, and been proved right? And perhaps it is unfair of him to judge how the afternoon will go well before he's even met her, but his expectations have long since been set.
Hyunjin's royal attendant, who accompanies him to all his meetings and currently sits beside him within the carriage, does his best not to show how the prince's constant sighing grates on his nerves. Royal attendants should always be calm and patient in the face of frustration, and that is what Christopher strives to be; so he speaks to the prince as kindly as his dwindling patience will allow him. "Must you look so miserable? I imagine the girls won't take kindly to the prince looking at them with such disdain."
"Girls? Plural?" Hyunjin asks, groaning audibly when his attendant nods. Great. As if a blind setup with just one girl wasn't enough.. Still, he doesn't need to be reminded to mind his manners. He'll hold himself to the utmost royal standard when the time comes, as he always does- and he tells Chris as such. "I certainly hope so," Christopher responds with practiced ease, "There aren't many demoiselles left to meet, and your father will be disappointed if we return with more outright denials."
"I'm aware," Hyunjin replies simply, frustration still clear in his voice, though he tries his best to temper it. He knows his attendant is not wrong, and is simply trying to look out for him while also keeping Hyunjin's royal duty in mind. It's imperative that Hyunjin marry before his father's illness progresses to the point that he must concede the throne, and it's Christopher's job to ensure that Hyunjin doesn't forget that.
But still.. despite the circumstances begging for urgency, this is not a matter that Hyunjin is willing to bend on. He values true love, romance, genuine connection above all else; and so when he marries, he'll do it for real love, and real love only- even if it means the throne passes him by and goes instead to his uncle. Hyunjin doesn't understand, nor does he care, why the law requires him to marry to take the throne. He imagines it's related to ensuring that the noble line continues- something he ultimately pays no mind to and refuses to take seriously, though he knows he should.
Hyunjin is considered by most of the royal family to be stubborn by nature, a trait his father has told him countless times he gets from his late mother, but Hyunjin himself likes to believe he is reasonable. While he's not entirely malleable, he does act with the country's best interest in heart, and he swallows down all frustration and gracefully does whatever he feels he must in favor of doing what is best for the citizens.
It just so happens that marriage is the one thing on which he will not compromise; and stubborn or not, Hyunjin thinks he should be allowed this one thing. All he wants is genuine love with someone who places the same amount of value in that love as he does, and he never expected that such a wish would be too much to ask for. But either way, all he can do for now is straighten his posture, put on his best smile, and hope that against his expectations, today will bring him the love he’s been searching for.
Similarly, you too stare from your window; though not from a horse-drawn carriage, but from where your bedroom lies on the second floor of your late father's manor. According to your step-mother, a very important suitor is coming to meet your step-sisters today, and she has taken every necessary precaution in ensuring you would be out of the way for the evening. You were used to such treatment by now, and being locked away in your room and ignored for hours on end was no longer something that brought you the intense grief it once had.
Sad to say, it'd become a simple fact of life since your father passed; you were used to the loneliness and the sadness and the grief of having a family that did not love you as you loved them. Truly, you loved your step-mother and sisters, and back then you never would've guessed they secretly abhorred your existence. But your father passed, and with his passing came the truth- that she never loved your father, or you- just what he had; and she was raising her daughters to be just the same.
Against his wife's knowledge or wishes however, your father's will had stipulations she must follow if she wanted to inherit his estate- the most important of which being that she care for you, his precious, only biological daughter, as one of her own until the day you are wed and depart from the manor to be with your new family. Thanks to this clause, your step-mother provides for you; and though it is only the bare minimum amount necessary, it could certainly be worse. You still have your childhood bedroom, all your precious belongings, 3 hot meals a day, and the maids who helped your father raise you still checking in on you.
The maids are forbidden from interacting with you more than is necessary, as your step-mother makes it her mission to make you as miserable as possible within the limitations your father's will provides, but they do what they can. The small talk they provide while filling your bath with hot water, and the snuck in messages written on scraps of paper hidden beneath your dinner tray are often the highlights of your day. You are lonely, but not alone, and that keeps you going on the particularly hard days.
Days like today, where the padlock your step-mother installed outside your bedroom door is ordered to remain locked no matter what, ensuring that you are unable to leave and ruin her evening, or her plans. She intends to find her daughters wealthy, prestigious husbands- men that cannot be given the chance to look upon you, lest they decide they like you more than her biological daughters.
You wouldn't misbehave regardless of whether or not the lock was in place. You're so used to being locked away in your room that even were the lock to no longer exist, you don't think you'd even notice; because you wouldn't ever try to leave in the first place. And compounding on that, you don't think yourself particularly special or beautiful enough to "threaten" your sister's marriage prospects; all you'd do is needlessly subject yourself to reminders that you're lesser than when they inevitably gloss over you.
You simply.. exist. But in your step-mother's eyes, that's your greatest sin. She hates you, and your existence alone causes her great grief. The simple fact that you exist prevented her from truly obtaining what she wanted most; your father's wealth hinged on you being taken care of to obtain. And thus, she couldn't just throw you out and leave you to your fate as she originally intended; so she begrudgingly provides for you, the depth of her loathing coming out in passive-aggressive words, meals resentfully delivered, and a locked bedroom door where she can leave you for a time and pretend her greatest wish is true- that you don't exist.
Staring out your window is how you've come to spend most of your days. Daydreaming, listening to birds sing, watching deer graze and rabbits sprint across the fields and between the trees. You reread your books to the point you could recite them with ease, you fantasize about love and companionship and freedom, and you wonder if there will ever come a day where such joy can be yours. You suspect not; when you do marry, it'll likely be to some terrible man your step-mother chooses on the basis that they continue your misery.
But in the sanctity of your bedroom, inside your imagination and idle daydreams, you can pretend that true love and happiness waits for you. Where you are valued and cherished and adored, where you are wanted and craved, where a life without you in it cannot even be imagined, for it would be too painful for your lover to even consider.
Lost in thought as you are, you almost miss it when the carriage your step-mother and sisters are expecting comes into sight. And normally you would pull yourself away from the window, make sure you're out of sight from whomever exits the carriage, lest whoever your step-mother is having over recognize you. But this carriage is so different from the ones that typically arrive at the manor that it makes you curious.
It's fancy- easily the most extravagant and ornate carriage you've ever seen; not that you've seen many, but the point stands. It's clear that whomever your family is meeting today is no ordinary suitor. There’s a crest beholden on the door, one that seems vaguely familiar, and you wish you could place it as it would assuredly be a hint to who is arriving, but the memory of what family it comes from eludes you.
It’s been so long since you’ve been out to the city, or communicated with families your father was close with, that it's hard to recall the family crests you once so easily recognized. But whatever family it belongs to, one thing is clear- they are surely wealthy and prestigious to afford a carriage this grand. No wonder your step-mother wants you out of the way today; if a wealthy suitor somehow chooses you over her real daughters, that would be her worst nightmare.
You watch with bated breath as a man steps out from the left side of the carriage, a man you can tell from dress alone is some sort of attendant. He works his way around to the right of the carriage to open the door for whoever remains inside- the wealthy suitor being an obvious guess. And really, you should look away and mind your own business lest you risk angering your step-mother, but you can't help yourself. This is the closest thing to fresh entertainment you’ve had (and are going to have), and so you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away.
And oh, the man who steps out when the door is opened for him is breathtaking. Even at a distance, he’s positively ethereal- easily the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. And you are certain that, even with your lack of worldly experience, he is utterly without comparison. He’s pretty, impossibly pretty, with long black hair, half of which is tied back by a ribbon, rings adorning his fingers, ornate yet dainty bracelets that seem to perfectly match the necklaces he wears, and beautiful, pure white and dangly earrings that remind you of a teardrop in shape, all of which match his equally embellished doublet.
He looks so very grand, elegant, to the point that you feel absolutely unworthy to even be looking at someone so strikingly gorgeous and well dressed. God, if he chooses one of your step-sisters to marry, someone so clearly wealthy and beautiful and important.. you just know your step-mother will lord it over you as her greatest proof that they are better than you.
The bitter, hurt part of you half wished the man your sisters were meeting today would be boorish and unimpressive, but of course that’s not the case.. And it saddens you, strangely. You like to think yourself above pettiness, and you’d rather experience the world through a lens of kindness despite what you’ve suffered, but seeing someone so utterly perfect going to meet your sisters, and knowing how they will mock you and laugh in your face should he fall for one of them..
Maybe, somewhere deep down, you’re jealous. Jealous, and angry, and hurt, as you’ve always been, but tried not to acknowledge. And it’s not the perceived wealth you’re jealous of, or the possibility of a beautiful husband, but the chance for connection they have that you don’t. That they can meet someone like him and be given the chance to fall in love, while you are forced into isolation and monotony. It isn’t fair, and it never has been, but today of all days is where you feel that injustice most strongly.
You choke on the melancholy, your eyes well with tears that you try to blink away as your hands ball into fists in your lap. You shouldn’t have watched the window today or let your curiosity and boredom get the best of you- all you’ve done is make yourself impossibly sad. You begin to stand from your seat by the window, ready yourself to close the curtains and wallow in your bed for the rest of the evening, when suddenly, you freeze. Your hand unmoving on the curtain, eyes widening with the realization that your sister’s suitor is looking at you. And it's not as simple as a passing glance- no, he is staring at you.
Hyunjin’s eyes widened when he first saw you in the window, at first just passively looking over the manor and taking in the sight as he readied himself to enter, before his eyes fell upon you. And upon seeing you, he became completely and utterly enraptured by your beauty, in a way he’s never experienced with anyone he’s ever met before.
He can’t help but stare, can’t manage to tear his eyes away from your visage even when Chris calls his name. And when you stand to close the curtains, and your eyes travel to him and meet his gaze, his breath catches in his throat, his heart skips a beat before it races, and his face flushes to an impossibly bright pink.
How and why does he have this feeling? How is that you enchant him with just a glance, when others have failed to with much more? You’ve not yet truly met, nor spoken a single word, and yet he feels it firmly- a desire hereto unmatched, that does not follow preconceived notions of what is logical, the kind you would only read about in the great romantic works of playwrights and novelists. A feeling he never expected to be based in truth, but here he is now, feeling it for himself- love at first sight.
And if love at first sight is real and it is true, then he cannot wait to meet you. To learn your name and hear your voice and speak with you until your throats run dry. He’ll devote himself to learning everything about you, to carving your every word and thought into his memory. He wants to learn what it is about your soft, melancholic expression that he finds so entrancing, to discover what it is that causes his heart to stir in ways entirely foreign to him.
“Your Majesty, Your Highness, Prince Hyunjin, Hyunjin-” Christopher tries every way possible to get the prince’s attention, letting out an exasperated sigh when Hyunjin finally turns back to him. He doesn’t even know what caught his attention- when he tried to follow the prince’s gaze, all he was met with was a window with its curtains pulled shut. “My apologies. I just-” Hyunjin starts, taking one last glance at the now empty window before turning back to his attendant. “Nevermind. Let’s just go inside.”
Chris quietly huffs his agreement, quickly offering the manor’s maids who were waiting on them his apologies in Hyunjins stead, as he is used to. He’s accustomed to not understanding what goes on inside the prince’s head, but at least he seems prepared now.. Almost happy, Chris would think if he didn’t know better. Regardless of its origin and whether or not he understands where it came from, he will welcome it- because it really is vital that Hyunjin choose a bride with haste.
The start of the evening goes as predictably as anticipated from that point on- the maids lead them to the great room, offering tea and freshly baked sweets while they wait. Hyunjin politely turns them down while Chris stands a comfortable distance away, there simply to keep an eye on the prince and observe how the arranged meeting proceeds. The lady of the manor enters the room after some time passes, bowing politely and apologizing for the delay before ushering her daughters into the room.
They’re dressed extravagantly, as expected, with expensive jewelry, perfectly laid hair, and tasteful makeup. They introduce themselves politely, though they erupt into quiet giggles afterwards, likely excited that one of them will potentially be chosen to marry the prince. Their mother shoots them a look, and it makes them clear their throats and cease their elated giggling, returning to proper posture with their hands folded in front of them, both smiling at him sweetly. But something’s wrong..
Hyunjin looks between the girls, their mother, and back to the girls, head tilting and brows furrowing in confusion; he doesn’t see the one from the window anywhere.. Shouldn’t she be here? “Isn’t there another?” he asks, and the dame’s eyes widen for a moment, a complex flash of emotions that Hyunjin doesn’t have enough time to fully decipher within them, before she reverts back to her previous calm, inviting demeanor.
“I believe I wrote in my proposal to the royal family that I have two, and only two, daughters. Perhaps there was a miscommunication between you and your men?” She suggests, and though it’s spoken kindly, Hyunjin gets the distinct impression that she wants to shut down any talk of a third daughter here and now. Christopher too is confused, but he apologizes to the dame, insisting the mistake is his fault, though it certainly isn’t.
The dame accepts the apology and swiftly moves on, though the tension still lingers. Even as she begins to talk at great length about how wonderful her daughters are and how lucky everyone involved would be should Hyunjin choose one of them to be his princess, there’s an edge beneath the kindly spoken words that hint towards how bothered his mistake made her. Her daughters too seem tense when he first questions if there is another, though by the time they are allowed to speak themselves all tension in them seems to melt away, instead focusing on singing their own praises and expressing their desire to see the royal castle.
It’s so jarring, tense, awkward, that it completely prevents Hyunjin from being able to focus on a single word the girls say. Ordinarily, he would not bat an eye at someone correcting a mistake in his speech or for having come to an incorrect conclusion, as it is imperative that a prince goes about his dealings with as correct as information as possible. But that being said, the dame’s reaction rubs him the wrong way, especially when paired with the nervous flash in her daughter’s eyes as their bodies tensed..
If he was simply mistaken, it would be natural and correct for her to clear up any misgivings he has about her family and estate kindly- there’d be no reason to address him with such underlying hostility or be on the defensive, as if he’d brought up a point that needs to be fiercely fought against. The emotion that flickered in their eyes, the terse words filled with faux-niceties, the shift in body language.. They suggest to Hyunjin only one thing- that a third daughter is in fact here; and for some strange reason, the lady of the house doesn’t want him to meet her.
But why would that be? The ideas that cross his mind make him woefully unable to focus on anything spoken to him. Maybe you’re already promised to someone else, maybe you’ve been married before and are now widowed, living in your old family home while stricken with grief.. Maybe you’re a cousin simply having a visit that by pure chance coincides with the prince arriving too, or maybe he imagined you somehow. But could that really be? You were so real, that doesn’t seem possible..
“But what do you think? .. Prince Hyunjin..?” One of the girls asks, and when he doesn’t reply, Chris clears his throat and steps forward to subtly nudge the prince, breaking him from his thoughts. “Allow me to apologize. The prince is.. tired these days. He’s got a lot on his plate, as I’m sure you understand,” Chris says, shooting Hyunjin a look that begs him to take the lead and finish cleaning the mess he’s made.
“Yes, I’m sorry. Uhm- perhaps you could allow me a small break? And then I promise you’ll both have my undivided attention,” Hyunjin suggests, being sure to offer them his most charismatic smile in the hopes they’ll look past how inattentive he’s been thus far. They agree easily, giggling and lightly blushing, assuring him a break is good for everyone (which he knows isn’t true, but it’s polite of them, at least.)
This time, he accepts the tea when it’s offered to him, chugging it down in a display that goes completely against the manners that have been drilled into him. He asks to be led to the nearest restroom, splashes water on his face and wills himself to focus on the task at hand. And though it comes with great difficulty, he forces himself to pay strict attention to every word spoken to him from that point onward, though your image continues to exist in the back of his mind the entire time.
Hyunjin steps out of the manor with a sigh, finding himself entirely drained after his meeting with the two sisters and their incredibly duplicitous mother. Originally, he’d planned to leave before nightfall, but they somehow managed to rope him into having dinner with them, and to say it was exhausting would be an understatement. Now he stands in the light of the moon, deep frown returning as he waits for preparations to leave to be made- because he absolutely refuses to stay here until morning.
As expected, once he broke himself out of his fog and started paying attention to what they were saying, they were incredibly vain and equally daft, and the more he spoke to them, the clearer it became that they weren’t fit to someday sit on a throne. It was extremely obvious that they were vying for increased fortune and pride- and at the behest of their mother specifically. To old herself to marry into the royal family, it seemed she was content to allow her daughters to do the social climbing on her behalf.
Not that her daughter’s are completely ignorant of this plot- he’s sure they’re well aware of the benefits if one of them becomes a princess, and are well instructed and prepped on how best to appeal themselves to a noble’s proclivities. Unfortunately for them, Hyunjin is unlike most nobles, and he takes the task of one day rearing his country very seriously- much too seriously to marry someone selfish, and without grace or tact, nor whom he fails to have a genuine connection with. Beauty alone won’t be enough to win him over.
Saying that however.. He can’t seem to stop thinking about the strikingly gorgeous girl he saw from the window. He feels himself a hypocrite, saying it takes more than good looks to win his heart, and yet still finding himself hung up on the mysterious beauty in the window. He looks up to that window, and sees nothing- the curtains are drawn, the room pitch dark, and there’s a part of him that considers the dame’s words true. There is no third girl, and what he saw was perhaps a phantom, a trick of the light, a mysterious cousin, or..
Well, he doesn’t know what, but he can’t allow himself to continue to linger on a girl that may not even be real, or obtainable if she does exist. "What's going on with you tonight? You never have a good time at these things, but you've been more off than is.. typical of you," Chris suddenly speaks up after Hyunjin sighs once more, and the prince frowns as he looks to his attendant.
A lot weighs on his mind; more than he feels he can even begin to explain. The way Hyunjin's thoughts swim in his head like a whirlpool- can he even begin to express himself in a way that is coherent and understandable to his most trusted attendant? Regardless, he has to start somewhere, and so he tries. “I’m afraid that I’ll never find what I’m looking for. Those girls were.. vapid to say the least. I’ve no interest in marrying a social climber, but.. I am beginning to think that perhaps I have no choice.”
Chris' expression softens as he offers Hyunjin a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. There is little he can do to make the prince feel better about his circumstance, he knows; he often has to remind Hyunjin to keep his royal duty in mind, and though it doesn't always show, he does feel bad that the prince is forced into such a situation.
It can't be easy bearing such a burden, and Chris certainly doesn't envy the struggle to find a bride under such constraints, or the responsibilities that will come to Hyunjin once he is wed. “Well, don’t fret too hard about that just yet. We still have a few more interested parties we’ve yet to meet. And maybe the universe wants to show you the wrong first, so that when you meet who is right.. you’ll know,” Chris says earnestly, trying his best to show the prince support.
"Mm, maybe," Hyunjin mumbles, desperately hoping his attendant is right. He hoped you would be that right person, but if fate deems it right to show him heartache and to put him through trials before happiness can come to him then he will just have to accept that. Chris frowns, but knows there is not much else he can offer to ease the prince's worries; so he instead turns his attention to the carriage to check on the progress for departure.
“Looks like we’re ready to depart,” Chris says after the coachman finishes adorning the carriage with lanterns suitable for the night ride back to the castle, "Maybe you'll feel better after some rest. And if you'd like, we can talk some more about this tomorrow." Hyunjin simply nods, following his attendant to the carriage with an immense weight still on his shoulders.
Despite what he logically knows, he can't shake his sadness over the fact that his burden wasn't lifted this evening, the irrational sorrow that comes from his hopes being dashed- that the beautiful girl he saw in the window could not be met.. But he tries to think that maybe it’s for the best that there wasn’t a third daughter for him to meet after all. Given the influence of their mother, she’d likely have been just as bad as her sisters, and that would’ve surely broken his heart beyond the ache he feels now.
Chris approaches the left-side door first, opening it swiftly and then standing to the side, motioning for Hyunjin to enter first, as is customary. Hyunjin places a hand on the doorframe and a foot on the iron step, ready to step inside in the carriage, but takes one last glance at the manor before he does. And there, a glimmer of hope- the image of you, just barely there peeking through the curtains, the faint light of a candle flickering in your hand.
Though a considerable distance away, he can see your eyes widen when you realize he sees you yet again, gasping and quickly moving away from the window, the light of your candle disappearing with your image. “She’s there!” Hyunjin exclaims, instantly separating himself from the carriage, and taking an unconscious step back towards the manor. “Who’s there?” Chris questions as he follows Hyunjin’s gaze to the window, confused to, again, find absolutely no one and nothing of note.
"I.. don't know who exactly, but she was there, I saw her," Hyunjin continues, and while Chris is still utterly baffled, he does see that the curtains are slightly swaying despite the window being closed- meaning someone was there, and caused them to shift by either touching them, or walking past them. He looks back to Chris, sees the hesitant, puzzled expression, and tries to explain himself in the briefest, but most concise way possible.
“I saw her in the window when we first arrived too! I asked the dame about her, thinking she may have had another daughter, but you heard how she reacted- she brushed me off so coldly.” "Well.. maybe she was telling the truth? It's possible she's simply a maid," Chris suggests, but Hyunjin quickly shakes his head. "She isn't. I assure you, after seeing their maids I wouldn't confuse her for one.. She's entirely unlike any of them."
"Okay.. So she's not a maid. But there could still be a reasonable explanation for everything," Chris says, and oh no, he can instantly tell where Hyunjin's mind is going. "Exactly! So I'm going to meet her, and find out what that reason is," Hyunjin says, wasting no time in walking back up to the manor. “What? How exactly do you plan on doing that when the dame clearly didn’t want you to meet her?” Chris quietly exclaims as he follows Hyunjin towards the direction of your window.
“There’s a trellis near her window, and I intend to climb it,” Hyunjin smiles, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable plan and not at all insane for him to do. “Go back to the carriage, and instruct the coachman to drive it down the road and out of sight. I don’t want the ladies of the house to know I’m still here if they happen to look out from their windows,” Hyunjin instructs, and again, Chris is absolutely floored by the prince. “Your Highness, you- you can’t be serious,” he quietly exclaims again, though he can tell Hyunjin is entirely serious about all of this.
"Just do this for me, please? I need to do this- for my peace of mind if nothing else," Hyunjin tells him, and though Chris still doesn't understand why the prince is so adamant about meeting you, he can see the sincerity and the drive in his eyes, and so he concedes. “Fine, just.. try to be discreet and don’t take too long, okay? And don’t make her uncomfortable!” Chris warns and Hyunjin thanks his attendant warmly before turning his attention back to your window.
He approaches the manor carefully, tiptoeing up to the trellis that will act as his ladder to your window. He places a foot into one of the slots and carefully adds his weight, making sure it’ll hold before he begins to climb it in earnest. He’s never done anything like this, but he knows he’d regret it if he didn’t at least try to meet the woman who so easily captured his heart with just a glance, while desperately, and maybe vainly, hoping he has a chance with you.
Hyunjin knocks softly on the window once he reaches it, doing his best to make it loud enough for you to hear, but not so loud that he would alarm anyone who may be nearby. Though your room is dark, the moon offers just enough illumination through the curtains that he can make you out. And while unlit, you are still holding the candle in one hand, while the other is nervously placed over your heart.
You can't believe this happening- the devastatingly handsome man meant to be wooed by one of your sisters saw you again, and is now at your window? Your heart is racing out of control, you don't know what to do or what to think seeing him there, waiting for you to approach the window, approach him.
You didn't even expect to see him again when you stepped to your window and peeked out; you simply saw lantern light from your window whilst preparing for bed, and it piqued your interest. You wanted to know what was going on, of course you did, so you looked, fully expecting the answer to be guards doing an uncharacteristically late sweep of the grounds, or maids sneaking out to meet the secret lovers you knew them to have.
But what you saw instead was the beautiful man from earlier in the process of stepping inside his grand carriage- and as if sensing you were watching, he turned to the manor, his eyes instantly falling on you. Just as you had this evening, you gasped and quickly shuffled away from the window, blowing out your candle as your heart pounded in your chest. Several seconds passed, and with trembling steps, you stepped back to the window and took one more cautious glance outside, only to see him approaching the manor, clearly intending to seek you out.
You gasped again, moving away from the window once more, mind reeling and pulse quickening. And now he’s here, having clearly climbed the trellis up to your window, hope in his eyes as he looks at you and waits. Swallowing, you carefully set the candle down on your nearby nightstand before you take cautious steps back towards the window, opening it ever so slightly. “May I come in?” he asks quietly, likely recognizing that speaking at full volume would be unwise, “I wish to speak with you.”
His voice is as silky and pretty as you imagined, and it positively jolts you. Everything about him seems impossibly perfect- part of you thinks that you've must've already fallen asleep, that you're tucked in bed and having a vivid dream based on the events of the day. But no, you've never dreamed as vividly as this, and you'd certainly remember if you'd crawled into bed after checking the lantern light from the window.
And that leaves you with a dilemma; the man, as gorgeous as he is, is still a stranger- and certainly you can't just let a strange man enter your room through your window.. That goes against everything your father ever taught you about safety. So you hesitate, observing him carefully for a moment.
And maybe it's just the fact that he's beautiful, or your yearning for connection that makes you want to trust him, even if it makes no logical sense to do so. You can't help but think he looks genuine and sincere, and well.. you can't ignore how desperately you desire to talk to someone, anyone, for more than the brief amount you're allowed to with your maids. Still, even if you crave connection with someone, you should be careful who you speak to shouldn't you?
He notices the hesitancy, recognizes what kind of situation he's imposing on you, and so he speaks up again, "Or I can stay here and we just talk through the window? If that's okay with you." Hyunjin knows he's being unreasonable and getting way too ahead of himself in his desire to speak with you, and it's crucial that he does his utmost to show you that he has no intention of making you uncomfortable.
Really, you should turn him down; but logic has left you, and truth be told you don't entirely trust that he can stand at the top of the trellis and support his own weight for much longer. So, you open your window further, granting him permission to step inside in your bedroom. He crawls in through your window as quietly as he can manage, smiling at you when he's fully inside. His smile is timid, and a bit awkward- this is easily the most nervous he’s ever felt, and he knows he’s going about meeting you completely backwards, but what other choice did he have?
Your mother, aunt, or whoever she is to you- he doubts she would’ve allowed him the chance to meet you. Her words and body language were much too passive aggressive to lead him to believe she’d meet the request to speak with you kindly, nor does he think she'd take kindly to being insinuated a liar. Additionally, it was highly unlikely that she’d willingly and truthfully divulge information about you or answer his questions. And so it led him to this- his fateful first meeting with the girl of his dreams happening within her moonlit bedroom.
He's completely out of his depth and unsure of himself or anything he's doing, but he holds out his palm, offering for you to place your hand in his. You blink, look up and down between his hand and his patient expression, and then you remember- oh, right, proper introductions. The setting is unorthodox, but it seems he still has it in mind to be polite and correct; as much as is possible, anyways.
You hesitate a moment, but ultimately place your hand in his, and he bows to you, lifting your hand to his mouth and placing a chaste kiss just above the knuckle. It's a simple, proper greeting, one that most people your age are entirely accustomed to, but it's been so long since you experienced it that it makes your skin erupt in goosebumps and heart thump erratically in your chest.
And there's the fact that he's jaw droppingly gorgeous- that certainly doesn't help.
You do your best to collect yourself when he straightens back up and looks at you once more. "I'm Hyunjin," he tells you in case you don't know, voice still as soft as it was at your window, a near whisper, "would you tell me your name, please?" This whole thing is entirely out of order and backwards, but you politely curtsey after offering him your name, though it feels silly to do so in your night chemise. And something about the way he looks at you makes your face burn hotter than it ever has.
All he’s heard is you speak your name, but he already considers your voice to be just as pretty as you are- he hopes he’ll get to hear it far beyond this single night. "If I may, I want to ask.. Do you know who I am? Or why I came here today?" He asks, looking directly into your eyes as he awaits your answer. You swallow, the eye contact making your heart skip a beat and pulse climb, but you steady yourself the best you can to answer. "You're.. a suitor who came to meet my sisters. But I didn't know your name until you told me it."
Hyunjin's eyes flicker with unfamiliar emotion as he takes in your answer- he knew it! You're no ordinary girl, nor a housemaid with an unusually lavish room. And what strikes him, apart from the confirmation that you're related to the girls he met downstairs, is what you said about him. You didn't know his name, don't know who he is apart from a potential suitor to your sisters.
He still doesn't understand why you weren't allowed to meet him, but it gives him hope- that if you are unwed, your love can be genuine. You won't marry him for title or wealth or power, but for who he is as a person. In the 4 corners of your bedroom, his name holds no weight, and that's all he's ever wanted.
But he should ask now, before he gets too ahead of himself and breaks his own heart, or lets a leap in logic carry him far beyond where rationality can reach him- ask if you are already promised to another. "Are you betrothed?" Hyunjin asks, and you quickly shake your head, surprised by the way he smiles in a mix of joy and relief to know you are unwed. Is that.. a good thing?
You're not even sure why you shook your head so vehemently when he first asked, as if you wanted there to be no mistake. Why would it matter to him if you are going to be married to someone or not? But something about his smile tells you it matters to him very much, though it is impossible for you to fathom why that could be. "Why do you ask..?" you question hesitantly, unsure of what you even hope to hear in response.
"Since I first saw you in the window, I've wanted to know you," he tells you earnestly, and your heart once again skips a beat. You knew he saw you, and you knew that were he perceptive enough to tell you aren't a maid he'd likely have questions about you or lingering curiosity. But it still surprises you that he shows this much interest- that it's more to him than just a passing question he'd be content to forget about in a day's time.
“Why didn’t you ask my mother then?” you ask him, though you suspect you know the answer. It’s not that he’s trying to solve a mystery or investigate why a seemingly innocuous girl is tucked away out of sight from visitors- and while you’re sure he’d welcome the answers to such questions, it’s more than that. For some strange reason, it’s just you- you as a person that he wants to know.
And you don’t know what to do with that. Your existence is so often ignored and trivialized, you can’t begin to understand why a glance of you in the window is enough to drive him to seek you out. You can’t understand what it is about you that is worth this, worth the curiosity and the climb to your window. Why would anyone want to speak to you so badly? You’re not special enough to warrant this.
“I did ask, and I didn’t like the answer,” Hyunjin says, and you blink in surprise. You can easily imagine that your step-mother would dismiss your existence when asked about you, or say something along the lines of “she doesn’t matter,” or “don’t worry about her, she’s nobody,”- so it’s not that that surprises you. What surprises you is that he heard an answer and not only didn’t accept it, but said he didn’t like it. Why?
Try as you might, you can't understand his motivations. Even if he could tell there was more that your step-mother wasn't telling him, why does he care so much about who you are? All visitors before Hyunjin who have stolen a glance at you either never asked about you, or have accepted her answers at face value, and it made sense that they did- because what reason did they have to push for the truth, or meet you regardless of her wishes?
“I’m interested in you, and I didn’t believe what I was told. I want to know you,” he continues, reiterates his sentiment, and you feel utterly frozen. All you can manage to do is blink up at him, your breath and words caught in your throat. And you realize your hand still rests in his, and you’re sure he can feel the way it trembles- from confusion, from nerves, from the simple act of even being held by someone for the first time since you were a child. But he doesn’t let go, and you don’t take it away- because he’s interested in you, and you want to know what that means, want to cling to the possibility that you can have the companionship that has eluded you for years.
“But.. why?” you finally ask, mind reeling from the possibilities. Regardless of what your step-mother may have told him, there’s one thing that she’s never wrong about- that you’re nobody, nothing, that your existence is a hindrance and you’re better off shoved aside where you can’t impose on her. You used to challenge that thought, but you’ve long since lost the will to fight against it, often finding yourself believing it to be true. And since you’re not special, or important, or particularly pretty, why is he so interested in you? You just don’t get it.
"If you'll forgive me for being forward.. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on. And I know it's presumptuous of me, and perhaps shallow, to want to meet you so badly for that alone but.. I couldn't let the image of you go. I had to take the chance to find out who you are," Hyunjin spills his thoughts freely, making his desires and motivations clear.
And just as before, it leaves you completely stunned. What he's saying.. that can't be right. You? The most beautiful he's ever seen? That feels like something you should be saying to him- Hyunjin is easily the most radiant and ethereal person you've ever seen, but he's saying all this about you?
You're rendered speechless, face burning impossibly hot as the words repeat themself in your mind on a loop. "I've got to go," he continues, slowly letting go of your hand as he prepares to return to the window, "but I want- I hope you’ll allow me to see you again." I hope you'll give me a chance to win your heart, he wants to add, but he's already been much more forward than he'd ever imagined himself to be, and he doesn't want to jeopardize anything that might be budding.
He steps back to the window and you follow, watching as he readies himself to climb back down the trellis he used to reach you. "We'll meet again?" he asks after settling his weight on the trellis, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. It feels foolish, and a bit naive to wish so hard that you'll desire to see him again; all he can do now is hope the impression he made is enough to allow you defy your sense of logic, just as you've done to him simply by looking his way.
You smile softly, the first smile you've shown him, the first you've done in God knows how long- and you nod as you promise him you will. You don't know how it will work or where it will lead, if anywhere, but you think you'd regret it if you didn't at least try. You miss companionship, you miss having someone to talk to, you miss smiling and the feeling of comfort and joy that comes from being close with someone who understands and knows you. You don't want to let this opportunity to have someone in your life slip you by.
Hyunjin's heart jumped when you smiled at him, and he returned the smile brightly as he said his goodbyes, heart still thumping and smile still plastered on his face as he descended the trellis. He looks back to the window, waving to you when he sees you watching from between the curtains, a giddy feeling building in his stomach when you wave back. Following the dirt road away from the manor, he meets back up with Chris at the carriage, happily relaying everything that happened to him on their way back to the castle.
You retired to your bed once Hyunjin was out of sight, but found it hard to sleep following your interactions. Curled up under the blankets, eyes closed and heavy, ready to sleep, but mind racing and replaying the night's events. There's a chance that this is a mistake, but you don't think you'll regret having taken the chance- because the hope and joy you feel now is the most delightful feeling you've experienced since you were a girl, and that feeling alone is worth whatever trouble it may bring your way.
It's hard to explain in words the emotions that come from having Hyunjin close to you. From having just a few short months ago gone from spending your nights restless from loneliness, to now lying awake in bed wondering if tonight will be one of the nights you hear his tap on your window. Going from hardly ever speaking a word, to now talking so much that your throat aches. To never feeling the warmth of another, to lingering touches and reluctant parting of held hands heating your skin.
You suppose what you can say is that it feels like the hole in your heart is being mended; a void wrenched open by loss and sadness slowly repaired with each clandestine meeting you share. It's bittersweet, sometimes; your melancholy was easier to ignore when you didn't have someone to share your thoughts and feelings with. It’s strange, how gaining what you were missing makes the bad in your life hurt much worse. It awakens a new fear within you- that one day, Hyunjin will tire of you, and you'll be alone once more.
As if knowing your fears, irrational or not, Hyunjin makes it no secret how he feels about you, or what he hopes the two of you may become. Besides, the very reason he first came to the manor was to answer a marriage proposal- so of course he makes it clear how much he likes you. And though you're aware of his feelings, you don't feel any sort of pressure or expectation from him, nor does he ever make you uncomfortable. You get the distinct impression that should you ever reject him, Hyunjin would move on gracefully, even if it weighed heavily on his heart.
All that being said, he hasn't blatantly asked you to be his bride yet, though it is obvious he wishes to. And putting aside what is rational, proper, or logical, you don't think you'd turn him down were he to ask you now. Hyunjin has become the highlight of your days, the hope that keeps you going when loneliness and sadness acutely strike you. He's radiant and intelligent and effortlessly witty; and you can still remember the way his eyes lit up the first time he made you laugh.
You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing too loudly, and Hyunjin's eyes crinkled as his smile beamed. He told you it was the prettiest sound he'd ever heard, that happiness suited you much more than sadness, that he hoped you'd smile and laugh more than you'd frown. And you think as long as you're with him, that'll be an easy promise to keep.
You've confided in him much of your life, your thoughts, and your feelings. He's an attentive listener, as well as empathetic and compassionate. And while you're sure to most it's the bare minimum, it felt nice to be listened to for once; to cry openly without being ignored, or mocked on the off chance you were acknowledged. It was nice to be held and gently consoled as you let out years worth of pent up tears flow out, though by the end you were always greatly embarrassed by your red eyes and puffy face.
Hyunjin, who wasn't fond of your step-mother from the start, liked her even less after you'd explained what you'd gone through following the loss of your father. It was interesting, as well as vindicating, hearing in detail his first impression of her, and how accurately he pin-pointed her personality and motivations. He told you he was used to dealing with people such as her, and his ability to nail her down was proof enough of that.
That's why he likes you, he said; likes that you're nothing like your step-mother, or step-sisters, or the countless other people he's met that hold the same motivations and values as them. There was no denying that his attraction to you started with your appearance, he admitted so himself right from the start, but you believe him when he says he's not superficial enough to marry for looks alone.
Whether you're as pretty as he says you are is still a matter of contention within yourself, but you try not to reject the compliments; especially not when he speaks them so earnestly. You don't find yourself special, but maybe it's enough that he does. And you recognize that everything about your relationship with Hyunjin is unconventional, but you don't dwell much on it.
You never would've had the chance to meet someone normally, and you welcome the solace and joy he brings you just by being near. When you think further upon how close the two of you have become, you wonder if words like "friend" or "companion" are enough. You wonder if this is what it means to be in love, if longing and desire and joy are really as hand in hand as they were always portrayed in your novels.
His tap on your window comes earlier than you expect it to today, elation spreading through your veins instantly as you rush to the window to open it for him. Normally, Hyunjin doesn't come to you until the sun has long since fallen, but tonight he arrives while the last specs of sunset still linger on the horizon. "You're early," you comment simply, a small smile spreading on your lips as he steps his way inside to your bedroom.
"Couldn't wait anymore," he replies, meeting you with a soft smile of his own. Summer brought with it longer days, which meant longer waits for Hyunjin to arrive at your window, and less time spent together before he had to rush back to his home. He pulls you into an embrace, gentle and warm, and you squeeze him tight for a small moment before you allow yourself to melt in his arms.
His hands rest comfortably on your back, lingering even as you pull slightly away to look up at him. "Your hair has gotten longer," you muse, taking a soft strand into your hand and admiring it between your fingers. "Has it?" he asks, having not noticed himself; it's hard to notice subtle changes considering he sees it everyday. "Do you like it?" he follows up, ever so slightly tilting his head as he awaits your answer.
"I do," you reply as you let it fall from your fingertips, now letting your hand fall to his shoulder, "it's pretty." He hums in response, smile turning bashful. Since becoming more comfortable in his presence, you speak your mind more openly, which also means he receives more compliments from you. There's a shyness that lingers, a blush often overtaking your cheeks after an admittance of finding him pretty, or handsome, or beautiful, but it never stops you from saying what you truly think.
Hyunjin is used to receiving compliments; and it's not meant to sound vain, but that's the reality of being the prince. And because he is used to them, he is normally unaffected by such words; but with you it's different. He isn't blind, of course, he knows he's conventionally attractive- but it's the intent of the words that matter. Unlike others he's met, you are genuine and sincere. You don't speak with ulterior motives, you don't say things unless you earnestly mean them.
So, when you say he's pretty, he takes great pride in it; because you aren't saying it out of a sense of obligation or gain. You just like him, and he likes you- that's all there is to your interactions. The affection you share is the realest thing he's ever felt, refreshing and authentic.
You know he's the prince, though he hasn't yet told you himself; you overheard your sisters speaking about it to each other just a few days after their arranged meeting. They were by your door, loud voices carrying and infiltrating your space. You think you were meant to hear it- vain and confident in themselves as they are, you suspect they wanted to rub it in that one of them would marry the prince.
Not that you cared- unbeknownst to them, you already met him yourself, and you’re the one the prince really shows interest in. And his identity shocked you at first, but as you thought about it more, it made sense; his impressive carriage, his elegant attire, the way he carried himself and spoke, why you thought you recognized his family crest- it all clicked.
Given all you've learned about him, what he thinks about the world and what he values, it makes sense that he wouldn't tell you right away, and you don't hold it against him. Going your whole life questioning the motives of others, and perceptively picking up on their dishonesty.. it must be hard. You can't even imagine it.
In turn, Hyunjin can't imagine how hard your own sufferings have been, his heart aching terribly for you whenever you put your sadness to words. There's a strange sort of comfort that comes from it however; your lived experiences being so entirely different, but aligning in just a way that leads you to understand one another.
Still, there were many times that Hyunjin wished the solutions to your problems were easy- that he could just use his authority as prince of the realm to give you your life back. Unfortunately, he thinks his interference would only make things worse for you; wish as he may that he could simply order your step-mother to be kinder to you, there's no way he can do so without great risk to your well-being.
It's frustrating and saddening to realize how little his power can do to help the one he cares most deeply for. There were equally times he wishes he could just take you away from all that hurts you; but until you either agree to wed him, or he becomes king after marrying another, he has no authority over who may or may not reside in the castle.
His greatest hope, of course, is that you'll wish to marry him. He doesn't even want to think about the devastation that will be wrought upon him should you reject him. You like each other, that much is true and plainly obvious, but marriage, especially to someone destined to rule, may not be something you want. And besides that, he's always wanted his marriage to have real affection tied to it- and until he knows definitively where your heart lies, he will be patient.
Though they sound like complaints, Hyunjin actually loves the progression of your relationship. Yes, it saddens him that as things stand now he can't remove you from the source of your pain or change things, but there is an equal amount of good that has come from his experiences climbing to your window.
His heart beats fast and erratic whenever you look at him and smile, your soft, small giggles and sweet laughs make his ears and face burn pleasantly. It doesn't always show, given his natural charisma and learned manners, but you fluster him more than you realize. His brain stutters when you compliment him, his body crawls with goosebumps when you initiate a hug or hold his hand, he unconsciously holds his breath when your face ever comes slightly too close to his own.
Though his father still urges him to bring home a bride sooner rather than later, he has managed to quell his father's worries by describing his affection for you. It's also what allows him to regularly leave the castle to meet you, with Chris himself also attesting to how genuine the prince's infatuation for you is.
And it's moments like this, when you're in his arms and looking up at him with your soft doe eyes and sweet smile that he feels the urge to kiss you the most. Before he can think about it much longer, you're separating from his hold, grabbing his hand and leading him to your bed with a softly spoken, "Shall we?"
It's your routine when he visits to sit or lie in your bed together, talking endlessly until the time comes that he has to depart. Sometimes you fall asleep, in which case he just indulges in the feeling of holding you close, stroking your head until the chirp of birds begins with the start of the sunrise, alerting him it's time to go.
Sometimes talking is too hard, and all you want is to feel him close and let your negative feelings wash away in his hold, and let them be replaced by his warmth. Sometimes you run out of things to say and simply enjoy each other's company in comfortable silence. Oftentimes, Hyunjin just being in your space with you is all you need to be happy.
There's an unspoken hope there that you share- that someday soon you'll be able to fall asleep together, to wake together, to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, for every moment to be spent with the person that rouses your once dormant heart. There’s still part of you that questions if you can really be loved by someone as good as him, but it’s what you hope for more than you’ve ever hoped for anything.
"Wait-" Hyunjin calls softly as you begin to step towards the bed, and you stop, turning back to look at him with a curious tilt of the head and questioning eyes. He swallows, beginning to lose his nerve as you stare at him. He wants to tell you how badly he wants to kiss you, to ask if it's something you'll allow him, if you crave it as much as he does.
"What is it?" you ask, squeezing his hand when you feel the slight anxious tremble. His face reddens, and he internally curses himself for having such difficulty. He once felt it was entirely unlike him to be reduced to such shyness, but you bring it out of him with just a look. "I just.. uh, well-" he starts, but before he can get much further, you hear a sound from the hallway that makes you jump.
"Shit-" you mutter in a harsh whisper, the sound of a metal object clinking just outside your door. Hyunjin doesn't realize what it is just yet, but the sound is one you can instantly recognize- it's the sound of your step-mother taking the padlock into her hands. You scramble to push Hyunjin in the direction of your bathroom as you hear the lock begin to turn, afterwards standing near your open window as calmly and naturally as you can manage.
Hyunjin doesn't have any time to think about what's happening, or to dwell on the sound he heard outside your door before he hears it start to swing open. All he can do is hide himself behind your bathroom door, and pray that whoever is entering your bedroom has no reason to step inside your bathroom.
Your step-mother enters your room with suspicion clear on her face, looking around the room with narrow eyes and scrunched brows. You take a quick, cautious glance towards your bathroom, relieved to notice that Hyunjin isn't in immediate sight. Thank God, you think; you don't know how she'd react to seeing the prince inside your bedroom, and you don't want to find out.
"Who are you talking to?" she asks, taking a stern step closer to you. You swallow down your nerves the best you can as you prepare yourself to answer- you can't give her any reason to suspect you're lying. "I was talking to the birds," you answer, pointing to where a nest of them rests on the tree nearest to your window.
The family of birds are settling in for sleep now that the sun has sunk, and you hope your step-mother finds it believable enough that you'd talk to them as they ready themselves for bed. Her eyes follow where you point, easily spotting the birds beginning to tuck their heads down, and she scoffs. She could've sworn she heard another voice replying to you but.. that'd be impossible, wouldn't it? Who would even be here talking to you?
Yes, though she hates to admit when she's wrong, she was likely just mistaken. The other voice she thought she heard was likely just you supplementing a conversation you wish you could be having with another person. There were never two people- just you, and the lonely life she inflicts upon you. So she smiles, condescending as ever as she speaks, "Yes, well. I suppose that's all you can do."
Your step-mother takes one more cursory glance around your room before she decides she's satisfied and turns to exit your bedroom. You breathe a sigh of relief when she finally steps out the door, and Hyunjin steps out from your bathroom just as the sound of the lock on your bedroom door clicks shut. He recognizes what it is more clearly after hearing the sound of the lock a second time, and his heart sinks at the realization of what that sound means.
"Hyunjin?" you whisper in question as he walks right past you, heading straight for your closed bedroom door. He takes the doorknob in his hand, twists it and pushes the door- and what he feared to be true is immediately confirmed. The door doesn't open, harshly stopped as the lock clanks against the door from the motion of it trying to be opened- you're locked in. Why are you locked in?
When he turns back to you, you say nothing; just look at him with those deeply saddened eyes that twists his heart into knots. "You're.. are you always locked in your room?" he asks, though he dreads the answer- and he suspects he already knows. You feel as if you'll sob if you speak, so you don't- you just nod.
His heart sinks to the pit of his stomach, a complex mix of sadness and rage on your behalf beginning to boil in his veins. He knew your step-mother to be vindictive, vain, materialistic, mean, but this.. It was a cruelty positively unheard of, and he couldn't fathom why anyone would have so much hatred in their heart as to resort to this.
He clenches his fists, takes a breath, tries to quell the intensity of his anger before he steps back to you. Your eyes have fallen to the floor, head hung low, hands balled into fists. Hyunjin softly calls your name once he's returned to your side, and you look up at him, eyes glassy as you blink away the tears that try to form. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you to his chest and hugs you tight.
Your reaction is delayed, the complex whir of emotions dulling your senses, but you eventually return the hug. You hold him the tightest you ever have, your hands gripping and bunching the fabric of his linen shirt. Carefully, Hyunjin leads you to your bed, where he knows you find the most comfort. You crawl into bed as soon as he pulls back the blankets, practically curling into a ball as soon as your head hits the pillow.
Hyunjin lies next to you, pulls the blankets up to your chests once he's settled, holding you once more after you move in closer. You press yourself close to him, curling your limbs around his, clinging to him in a desperate need to stay as close as possible. Head pressed into his chest, he softly strokes your head, whispering comforts to you until he feels your body begin to lose its built tension.
Now more than ever, Hyunjin is firm in his belief that he can't let things stay this way- there has to be some way he can use his power to help you. He doesn't want to walk away after knowing the true depth of all that you suffer, he wouldn't forgive himself if he did. Again, he calls to you softly, and when you look up at him he asks, "Do you want to leave? Get away from here?"
You blink, processing the question and wondering how you should answer. Unfortunately, the answer isn't an entirely simple yes or no. The truth is, you wish you didn't have to; this is your father’s manor, the house you grew up in, and though you've suffered greatly since his passing, you find it hard to let go of the happy memories that came before the tragedy.
Despite that, even if he were still here now, it is true that you'd have to leave eventually; you'd marry someday, and married women always leave their childhood homes behind when they wed. Still, when you think of never seeing the manor again, of never returning to your childhood bedroom or talking again with the maids who helped raise you, you feel impossibly sad.
You wish you didn't feel so tied to your home, but it's hard to let go, even when you know it is what's best for you. Additionally, when you did let your mind wander and think about what sort of life you'd lead if you ran away, you realized you were impossibly scared of the world. You've been locked away for so long that you don't remember the way to the places you once recognized, all your connections have been severed, and getting to the castle city, even if you did remember the way, would take days on foot.
Add the fact that you'd have no money, and no way to prepare food for the trip without getting caught, you never let yourself entertain the thought of running away past the occasional frivolous daydream. Sure, you could climb from your window and leave without getting caught, but you could never convince yourself that it was worth trying.
But now you have someone, don't you? Someone who cares about you, who would help you find your way in the vast world you've been kept away from, someone who doesn't want to sit idly by and let you suffer any longer. All you've done since meeting Hyunjin is hope- and the more you look at him and see how vividly he cares, you think that maybe your hope isn’t misplaced. That maybe the life you’ve always wished for is actually obtainable if only you just try.
"If I leave.. where would I go?" you can't help but ask now that you are entertaining the thought of fleeing from the source of your suffering. Realistically, you know there is no way you can do this without Hyunjin's help, and you're sure he knows this too, but you don't want to ask too much of him. You're thankful to have him to rely on, but you don't want to impose- so it's imperative to you that he offers first, so that you don't feel as if you're burdening him.
"Stay with me," he offers without any hint of hesitation, "even if we never wed, even if you never desire me the way I desire you, stay with me." Hyunjin takes your hands in his, squeezes them in his as he continues, "I promise, you’ll never have to suffer again as long as you are in the castle. Please, leave this place with me.”
Your heart skips and stutters, emotion crawls back up your spine and pricks your skin, hitching your breath. And shit, Hyunjin realizes what he just said- he got ahead of himself, and brought up that he lives in the castle. He wanted to admit the truth of his identity carefully, but now.. well, he supposes if you agreed to leave with him, it would've come out tonight regardless.
Still, he stutters as he tries to explain himself- how it was never intended to be a lie he kept from you. How he doesn't often have the chance to meet people who don't already know his status so when you didn't recognize him, it made him happy. How he enjoyed that you could talk to him without pretense, how refreshing it was to him and how it was exactly what he needed, what he'd been looking for.
You smile, even giggle a bit once he gets really deep into his spiraling ramble of explanations. He stops then, nervously giggling back when you squeeze his hands and tell him to slow down, that you understand him completely. "I knew," you tell him after a moment, "well, not the whole time- I didn't find out until later. But I didn't bring up that I knew because it didn't change anything for me. I never cared that you're the prince. To me, you're just Hyunjin."
God, the relief that spreads through his body at your words- a massive weight has lifted from his shoulders. And the confusion you felt about why someone like him could ever fancy you so much- you feel like you understand more now why he likes you, and it helps ease the burden of your self-doubt. You sit up from the bed, looking down at Hyunjin with a timid, yet eager smile.
"Let's go," you tell him, and he quickly sits up with you, a bright smile of his own plastered on his face. "Right now? You're sure?" he asks, trying (and failing) to hide the excitement in his voice. You nod, and he positively beams, ready to help you with everything you need. You don't have many bags, much less ones suited for travel- so you settle for choosing the largest of them all.
Hyunjin helps you back the things you can't bear to part with; old gifts from your father, sentimental pieces you can't bear to part with, the blanket your mother knitted for you when you were still growing inside- you stuff your bag to the brim with your most precious belongings. It's heavy by the time you're done, and Hyunjin takes it and slings it around his shoulders, promising to treat it with care until it's delivered safely to the carriage. "Are you ready?" he asks after you both approach the window, and you pause, turning around to take one last look at your bedroom.
Once you leave, you'll never be back, and with that comes strange, new and complex feelings. But you think it's more than past time you left this place behind, and made a new place your home- a place where you are free to be happy and to exist without guilt. "I'm ready," you affirm as you turn back to the window, and Hyunjin smiles and nods, giving your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he lets it go to climb out of your window.
Hyunjin steadies his weight on the trellis, and you lean out of your window to check how far down the ground is- and shit, you might be afraid of heights if the way your stomach drops is any indicator. "I'll wait for you at the bottom," he tells you after noticing the apprehensive look in your eyes, and you nod with an anxious swallow. Hyunjin has done this a million times at this point- you can do it too! No problem!
Of course, Hyunjin makes the climb look effortless, but you suspect you won't have nearly as easy of a time climbing down. Once he's finished his climb, he takes a few steps back to see you clearly when he looks up, smiling at you encouragingly. You take a breath to steel your nerves before you take a cautious step out of your window, carefully finding your footing on the trellis before adding your weight- the same way you saw him do it.
You descend much, much slower than Hyunjin did, impossibly terrified of losing your footing and falling to the dirt below. When you finally reach the bottom, you let out a massive sigh of relief, and Hyunjin pulls you into a hug, beaming as he squeezes you- he's proud of you, you think.
His joy adds to your own, so much so that you can't help but show it. Leaning closer, standing on the tips of your toes, you kiss his cheek- a way to tell him thank you, to show him how much you like him, and to convey how happy you are with him. He blushes ever so slightly as his smile grows, a giddy feeling once again building in his stomach.
"When all this is behind us, and you're safe at the castle with me.. Can I kiss you?" he finds the courage to ask, your face flushing as you smile and nod. "I'll look forward to it," you tell him, and you raise your pinky to him, intending for it to be a promise. With a soft chuckle, he interlocks his pinky with yours, happily solidifying the promise.
"This way," he tells you shortly after, separating your pinkies to take your hand in his, and lead you to where the carriage awaits him down the dirt road, and away from the manor. You take a final glance back at it as you walk with him, whisper goodbyes to all the things you'll miss, to your father most of all.
As the carriage comes into sight, it really sets in how real all of this is- how with this night, your life will become completely different. You wonder how everyone will react when your maids enter your room in the morning and find that you aren't there- part of you is sad you can't bid them goodbye personally, but you hope they'll be happy for you and wish you well.
You hear the coachman call to Hyunjin's attendant as you step closer, informing him with surprise in his voice that he is back earlier than expected- and with you. His attendant, who you know as Chris, and have heard many stories about, steps out of the carriage with an almost bewildered expression. He certainly wasn't expecting this to happen tonight.
Hand in hand, Hyunjin continues to lead you up to the now open door of the carriage, with Chris standing next to it. "Are you..?" he asks tentatively as he looks between you both. Together, romantically, you infer him to mean. "We'll discuss it later," Hyunjin says, turning to offer you his usual warm, reassuring smile before he looks back to his attendant, "for now, I'd like you to formally meet the future princess."
Living in the royal castle is something you never would've believed would ever happen to you, and it became your reality in the strangest of ways. To think that a beautiful man came to your window in the night, that said beautiful man wanted to marry you, and was the prince of the realm of all things.. It was confounding how you ended up here.
There's part of you, that even having known the truth for months, still can't seem to wrap your head around Hyunjin being the prince. You suppose it comes down to knowing something and seeing something being entirely different- because though you knew, you never, until now, saw him in his element, so to speak.
Watching him interact with the world behind your small scope was as enlightening as it was affirming; you saw a new side of him, but it was a side that was still firmly Hyunjin. He was eloquent but opinionated in royal discussions, he was kind and grateful to his workers, he was stern when something needed done, but never cruel or overly demanding- again, all you could think was that he’s perfect.
Was Hyunjin getting ahead of himself when he introduced you to his attendant as the future princess? Maybe. But though you haven't said it aloud, you think you fell for him harder since coming to the castle; and being the princess, while a stressful endeavor that requires you to intensively study politics and speech, will be worth it to stay by his side.
The parts of Hyunjin you've come to love the most are the parts you realized are reserved only for very few to see- the part that is wittier than political discussions will allow, who is secretly a bit dramatic when things don’t go his way, a hopeless romantic who clings to the ideals of literature.
And further beyond even that, are the parts of Hyunjin that are for you, and you alone; where natural charisma melts away into bashful sincerity. Whose soft, affectionately spoken words are said with an equal mix of earnesty and boyish timidity. Whose graceful confidence is intermixed with the subtle complexities of shyness and the seeking of your approval.
All these aspects combined are what make him so special to you, and you will be forever grateful that after all the suffering you’ve endured, you are allowed to love someone as good as him, and are loved by him in return. And thanks to his help, not only do you live a life you could have only ever dreamed of, but are adjusting quite well to that new life.
Some things are the same, such as having kind maids who helped you settle and attended to your needs, but then there were things that were entirely different from the life you lived before. You have your own attendant now- a sweet boy that Christopher vouched for named Felix, who Hyunjin affirmed you would be able to trust with your life, as he does with his own attendant. And truly, Felix did quickly become someone you felt like you could rely on and trust; oftentimes, he feels more like a best friend than a royal attendant.
Though he makes sure you stay on top of your studies, and fulfill all tasks you need to have done, you can also easily spend hours giggling away about various things- like how Chris is so serious but also a secret softie underneath, about your relationship with Hyunjin, about Felix’s secret crush that he hopes to confess to after preparations for your wedding to Hyunjin are concluded.
It’ll still be some time before that day comes, as apparently the king is sparing no effort in making it an extravagant event to remember- his only son is being wed, after all; it’s worth the kingdom celebrating to the fullest extent possible. You try not to think about the life you left behind, but you often wonder if your step-mother and sisters have connected the dots between your disappearance from the manor, and the announcement of the prince’s wedding.
If not, she’s certain to realize once the day has arrived; because all reputable families of the kingdom are invited, and she never turns down a royal invitation. The offer to rescind their invitations came up, of course, but you declined- because there’s a part of you that sincerely wants this to strike your step-mother in the core of who she is, and make her reflect on herself. And if it doesn’t, well.. You’ll find some satisfaction in seeing her appalled and infuriated that you’re thriving despite her meddling in your life.
Currently, you and Hyunjin still reside in separate rooms because unwed couples sharing a bed before marriage is deemed inappropriate- not that either of you care; it doesn't stop Hyunjin from sneaking to your room at night, in much the same way he did when you lived back in your father's manor. Sneaking across balconies, quietly climbing over each and every banister until he reaches your room- it's a far cry from the "proper" way a prince is expected to behave, but when it comes to the whims of his heart, he pays no mind to such expectations.
What was once a knock at your window is now a careful tap to the glass of your balcony door, where Hyunjin stands and waits with a shy grin for you to greet him. You never lock the doors, as you're sure he knows- but regardless, he always waits for you to come and let him in yourself. It's just the same tonight- he softly knocks and waits, smiling when he sees you rise from your bed to come to the doors.
"My darling," he greets you sweetly when you open the door, taking your hand and kissing just above the knuckle as he bows to you. You've experienced the greeting what feels like a hundred times over at this point, but it never fails to raise goosebumps on your skin; especially when he looks up at you and smiles before he straightens his back and stands tall once more.
Instead of inviting him inside, you step past the door to stand on the balcony with him, the cool breeze refreshing after having dealt with the heat of the late summer sun prior. He wraps you in his arms, wasting no time in tilting his head down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. His lips on your always fill you with just as many butterflies as the first time, his hands finding their way to your waist causing you to shiver.
"I've missed you," he breathes against your lips before he kisses you again, and you hum as you return the kiss, wordlessly agreeing with the sentiment. Preparing for the wedding makes you both incredibly busy these days, from dress fittings to studying in your case, and readying to ascend the throne in Hyunjin's.
With hardly any free time to yourselves, this is how Hyunjin ensures he gets the chance to spend at least some time with you. Sneaking over to your room, no matter how exhausted the day has made him, because now that you're in the castle with him, he can't go a single night without seeing you, feeling you, at least just once.
And normally, he would follow such a kiss with conversation- ask about your day, what you did and how you're feeling, what preparations for the wedding were done today, etcetera. But for whatever reason, right now he just wants to keep kissing you, over and over again, for as long as you'll allow him.
Maybe it’s because the last few nights he hardly got to see you for more than a few moments, leading to greater longing. Maybe it’s because the wedding looming closer makes the reality that you’re together feel so much more real- you’re his, and he’s yours, and there’s so much beauty in being in love, in promising that you’ll remain together no matter the years that pass or challenges that come.
Your arms wrap around his neck, your body pressing closer into his, and it’s almost criminal how much that simple of an action makes his head spin. You’re a clingy lover- not that Hyunjin minds by any means; he loves it, in fact. He loves feeling wanted and desired by you, and the way you crave and seek out his touch; the problem, so to speak, is the way his body reacts to your close proximity. It’s.. an indecent reaction- one that he has to do his best to contain, lest he do something improper and act gracelessly.
Still, you tempt him- with doe-eyed looks, pouting lips and gentle caresses to bare skin. He desires you, wants to lay your bare and look upon every inch of your body, to feel you naked beneath his fingertips- but he can’t, not yet. And so instead, he has to make a conscious effort to not linger on such thoughts, to swallow them down until the time is right. But the more time he spends with you, the more difficult a task it becomes; and now, after having gone a handful of days not being able to see him for more than a few passing moments, you cling to him more than usual, making the need inside him impossible to ignore.
You drive him utterly crazy with a simple touch- and he wonders how much of it is a conscious decision, and how much is executed simply by instinct. Do you realize just how deeply you affect him, or do you act purely on what feels good and right to you? Maybe it’s an equal mix of both- enjoying the effect you have on him, but also thriving in the euphoria that touching him makes you feel.
You haven’t gone much further past passionate kissing and idle, yet purposeful, groping of each other’s bodies, as Hyunjin tries his best to be proper and “follow the rules”- in which having intimate relations whilst unwed is wildly improper, and against everything he’s ever been taught. But when the wind blows your robe partly open, and he sees nothing underneath but your soft white lingerie, he can’t help but recall that such rules have always been pointless to him.
Hyunjin has always followed his heart before considering consequences and what is "right." So, if you're in love, if you want each other more than words, if you know you're going to be wed soon anyways, why should he hold off from following what his heart desires? Nothing about your relationship with one another has ever been conventionally proper, nor followed pre-established rules and notions, so why hold himself to such things now?
Do you think and feel the same as him? He suspects you do, but tonight he intends to find out for sure instead of wasting any further time questioning the depth of your intent, and considering conventional rules above his feelings. His hands squeeze your waist as he turns you both around, pressing your backside against the sturdy balcony banister, the sound of surprise that leaves you muffled by his lips that have still yet to part from yours.
"I want you," he says after pulling away from your lips, though still close enough for you to feel his breath directly on your skin, "more than I fear is allowed." There’s a fear there- that the depth of his longing is entirely one-sided, that the way in which he craves you goes unrequited, that the longing you feel doesn’t go past its current boundary.
Hyunjin rests his forehead against yours, eyes staring straight into yours in a way that makes you feel equal parts vulnerable and warm. "Do you want me too?" he asks carefully, setting aside his nerves and uncertainty, his hands trailing over where the wind tousled your robe and exposed your shoulder.
"Say no, and I'll stop right now. We'll move on as if this never happened until you're ready to discuss it," he continues, hand pausing where the strap of your bra lies, uncovered thanks to your partially fallen robe, "but I need to know- if I am allowed to want you as badly as I do, and if you return these feelings." He watches your reaction attentively, unconsciously holding your breath as he waits for a hopefully favorable response.
You swallow, heart nearly beating out of your chest as you open your mouth to speak, and you're certain that Hyunjin can feel the goosebumps rising on your skin- goosebumps that exist solely because of him, and not at all from the late night chill. "I want you too," you respond, and you can see the way relief and excitement wash over him. A million promises and "thank you"'s linger on his lips, but instead of speaking them aloud, he pours them into his kiss, letting his body do the talking for him.
His hand travels away from your shoulder, down towards your waist, where your robe is held together with a loosely tied ribbon. The anticipation makes you shiver, and when you feel the knot come undone, you pull away to allow him the chance to look at you. It's utterly nerve wracking being this exposed, and you don't feel the least bit confident in yourself- but at the same time, you know how much Hyunjin reveres you, and so you want him to look.
While it's still a struggle to believe all that he sees in you, you know this is something he'll sincerely love. From the very moment your touches started to become more intimate he has craved this sight of you, and you grant him the opportunity to stare as much as he wishes to. You leave him breathless for a moment, and for quite possibly the first time, you watch in real time as something shifts inside of him.
The look in his eyes changes, first from awe as he unconsciously sucked in a breath, to utmost, almost overwhelming desire. He takes you in his arms and lifts you up, and you instinctively cling to him with a surprised squeak. His hands hold you up from under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him while tightly holding his arms. He places you on the thick banister, and you shiver when the cold iron makes contact with your skin through the thin material of the robe you’re wearing.
He kisses you with fervor, his tongue sliding past your now parted lips. Comfortable with your position and Hyunjin’s strong hold on you, you move your hands from his arms to his face, holding it as you invite his tongue further inside your mouth. One of his hands continues to support you and hold you close to his body, while the other slips your robe further down, until it falls down your arms and pools at your elbows.
Another breeze rolls by, and you shiver once more, this time fully feeling the chill. Your thin, almost sheer lingerie does nothing to hide how hard your nipples have gotten, allowing Hyunjin to see them clearly when he pulls away from your kiss and glances down. He licks his lips as he stares at them, lets his free hand move away from your legs and up to your chest, palming one of your breasts over the thin fabric of your bra.
You gasp when his fingers brush your nipple over the fabric, and Hyunjin drinks in the way your body reacts to the near overwhelming sensation his fingers grant you. Your hands fall back to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as your body squirms. "Does it feel good?" he asks, this time watching your face as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, attentively watching the way your face changes.
Biting your lip and closing your eyes as you nod, your legs instinctively try to close together but are unable to due to his place between them. The soft, near whiny gasps you let out are intoxicatingly sweet, a sound Hyunjin could easily imagine himself becoming addicted to. He kisses you again, lingering on your lips and briefly muffling your whines before he trails down your jaw and to your neck, where he places wet, open mouthed kisses.
His touch makes you hot- so much so that the cool breeze no longer affects you the way it had moments prior, your shuddering coming solely from the way he's making you feel. He slips a hand inside your bra, touching your nipple directly now, the pad of his thumb rubbing over it in rhythmic strokes. He can feel your thighs tremble and squeeze him, still desperately trying to close together, driven by the innate need to seek friction.
You don’t outright say you need more, but your body does more than enough to tell him- and so Hyunjin dips his hand further down, slowly traveling between your bodies, over your stomach until it reaches its destination between your legs. He doesn’t know what to do, really- but he’s nothing if not a romantic at heart, and he lets that guide him onward. Following the romantic fantasies that often played in his head, he brings his lips back to yours, sensually kissing you as he rubs your heat over your panties.
It's so wet- much more than he ever could've anticipated. The fabric, that was already so thin and nearly sheer to begin with, has become almost entirely see through and now sticks to you uncomfortably (though Hyunjin’s hand is proving to be a perfect distraction from the discomfort.) His own fingers become slick even without direct contact, and it excites him as much as it drives his curiosity. What do you taste like? Is it okay for him to find out, or is that too far?
He wants to know, desperately wants to know- “Can I taste you, please?” he asks in a soft, pleading tone; it’s okay if you say no, he’d never question your limits, but fuck, he really wants it. You let out a breathy, eager “yes,” to which he responds with the most breathtaking smile. You watch with bated breath as he begins to trail kisses down your torso, leaving a few lingering touches to your nipples and stomach on his way down.
Hyunjin helps you slide off the banister, hands securely on your hips and guiding you forward, closer to him. He completely kneels down in front of you, presses soft kisses to your inner thighs as he guides one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. You lean back against the banister, your hands holding it for support while his hands rub over the back of your thighs and to your ass. He holds you there, occasionally squeezing, and you can feel him smile against the meat of your thighs when it causes you to squirm in his hold.
You watch his tongue dart out from between his lips, wetting them before he finally brings his face closer to your center, giving you a curious kitten lick over your panties. That alone is enough to make you jolt, and he squeezes you a bit tighter in response, trying to help you stay still while he explores the newly accessible parts of your body.
He can’t think of a single thing he could compare your taste to, but he loves it, an involuntary noise of pleasure rising from his throat. He quickly grows dissatisfied with small, careful licks- he needs more of you on his tongue, needs to taste you directly. But rather than separating from you and wasting precious time getting your panties off you, he decides it's a better idea to simply pull them to the side.
Your balance falters for a moment when he moves his hand away from your behind to shift your panties out of his way, but he’s quick to bring it back and continue to hold you once his tongue has once again met your core. Your grip on the railing tightens, head falling back and eyes fluttering closed as you let out a low moan. You never expected to be experiencing your first time with something like this outside, on your new balcony of all places, but you can't deny that it excites you.
It's fun, exhilarating, almost freeing- something that would've forever eluded you had you not met Hyunjin, and fallen in love with him. And oh, you’ve never felt anything as good as his tongue between your folds. You divert your gaze back down, mesmerized by the sight of him between your quivering thighs, and he too is mesmerized- by your taste, by the way you drip on his tongue, by the way you gasp and cry out when his tongue finds your clit.
He alternates between swirling his tongue around it, and giving you long, flat licks, both of which drive you crazy with need for more. You try your best to not let your noises get past a certain volume, teeth digging into your bottom lip almost painfully, hands desperately clutching at the banister as your body involuntarily trembles. It doesn't take long for Hyunjin to find the pattern you like, what motions cause you to cry the loudest despite your desperate attempts to contain yourself.
Your stomach rapidly tenses and contracts, your moans quickly turning into high-pitched whines as you’re driven closer and closer to release. You’re dizzy, mind practically floating with immense pleasure, your hips unconsciously rolling into his face as you seek sweet, blinding relief. Hyunjin’s cock throbs painfully in his trousers, straining against the fabric that has now grown tight around him, but he ignores it, completely focused on you.
He looks up at you from between your legs, watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you take desperate, panting breaths, sweating clinging to you in an ethereal sheen. You take one of your hands off the banister, instead burying your fingers into Hyunjin’s long hair. He groans against you, unexpectedly enjoying the way you slightly tug on the loose strands.
The feeling in the pit of your stomach grows in intensity, your eyes rolling back as he flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you please. You let go of his hair when you feel your orgasm start to peak to clamp your hand over your mouth, wanting to avoid waking the entirety of the castle with your moans if you can help it.
He squeezes you once more, does his best to hold you upright as you lose yourself to the feeling. It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, the tingling that starts in your spine spreading throughout your entire body, as mind numbingly euphoric as it is overwhelming. He doesn’t separate from you until he feels your thighs relax and legs go limp, carefully removing your leg from its perch on his shoulder, holding you steady as he rises back up to his feet.
It takes you a moment to return your senses, only just barely registering Hyunjin talking to you as you blink away the fog of pleasure muddling your brain. He’s asking things like if you’re okay and if it felt good, grinning when you nod and answer him with meek affirmations. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on him, and it somehow adds to just how amazing you feel.
It’s in that moment, where he’s stroking your cheek while kissing you, tongue exploring your mouth and sharing the taste of your release with you, that you decide you want to return the favor. Mirroring what he’s done to you, you let your hands wander his body until they meet the waistband of his trousers, where you slowly undo the buttons. His breath hitches when you sink to your knees, anticipation rising in tandem with his nerves.
Will you like what you see? It’s not something he’s ever worried about before, but now he finds himself awaiting your reaction anxiously. Wanting to spare him the late night chill, you don’t pull his trousers and underwear all the way down, instead just pulling down enough for his cock to spring free of its confines. And, wow- it’s much longer than you expected, as well as mouth-wateringly pretty, the vein running along the length utterly entrancing to you.
Pre-cum leaks steadily from the tip, and you curiously stick out your tongue to taste it as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock. He hisses and softly gasps, twitching and throbbing in your hand that is so much softer than his own. You quickly move on from small, careful and curious licks to swirling your tongue around the tip, sometimes stopping the movement of your tongue to press wet kisses to it.
His pre-cum smears over the tip and all over your lips thanks to your kisses, and it’s easily the most erotic thing he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. And God, when you look up at him through your lashes as you kiss him, your pretty lips wet and glistening because of his release- he has to make conscious effort to not let out a visceral groan.
After a few more soft, wet kiss, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue, leaning forward on your knees, using your hand to guide his cock into your eager mouth. His body shudders as he groans, the more you take of him into your mouth, the more he struggles to restrain himself. Hyunjin leans forward, grabs the banister for support while he watches you try to work him in past your limits- taking him in until you gag, retreating just long enough to recover before resuming, trying to take him further than last time with each attempt.
Tears prick the corners of your mouth, threatening to fall with each additional inch taken down your throat, but you refuse to concede. He brought you such unimaginable bliss- and you’ll do anything to make him feel the same. Just as Hyunjin had done, you proceed purely on instinct, staring up at him as you finally succeed in taking his entire length into your mouth. And fuck, the sight of you- how is he supposed to retain composure after seeing you like this?
Grip on the railing tightening, his eyes roll back when you start bobbing your head along his length, the sound of his cock sliding back and forth in your mouth creating impossibly salacious wet sounds. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, down to your chest and thighs, but you continue on, paying no mind to the mess you're making on yourself.
For the first time, you hear Hyunjin speak with an utter loss of composure- no smooth charisma, no eloquently crafted line of dialogue; just pure, pleasured rambling. "Darling, I can't- feels so good, I-" he cuts himself off with a curse, biting his lip as he feels you caress his throbbing vein with your tongue. He’s never felt so good before, and he’s so close- but what is he supposed to do? Release in your mouth? Is that even okay?
He intends to ask, opening his eyes to look at you as he does, but oh- the sight of you instantly causes the words to die in his throat, the sight of you paired with pleasure he feels is just too much for him. He cums with a moan, loud and pretty, his cum gagging you as it shoots straight down your throat. You pull away seconds later, releasing him from your mouth with a pop, swallowing the cum that lingers on the back of your tongue as you wipe your lips clean with the back of your hand. You look up at him next, taking in the sight of your normally elegant lover looking so debauched. He’s breathless and utterly disheveled, but still so impossibly perfect.
Hyunjin helps you to your feet after he’s collected himself, pulling you into an emotionally charged, sensual kiss; lips parted, tongue seeking yours. He lifts you up once more, deciding that both of you have spent more than enough time on the balcony, continuing to kiss you even as he carries you inside your bedroom. It makes the walk more precarious, but neither of you care, absorbed in one another as you are. And maybe you should feel some amount of shame for having pleasured one another in such an open space, but it’s the furthest thing from your minds.
All that matters is Hyunjin; how he makes you feel, and how you make him feel. Lying you on your bed as gently as he can manage, he finds his place between your legs as you fall to your back. His hands find the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off your body. Your robe is the next thing to be removed in your flurry of impassioned kisses, followed by your bra, and all of Hyunjin’s clothes.
“Love you so much, my darling,” he breathes against your skin between his kisses to your lips, hands roaming your body, “want to be inside you.” You pull away enough to see him clearly, your eyes finding his even in the dark of your room. “I want it to,” you admit softly, heat rising to your face, “I love you, Hyunjin.” He smiles, brief and timid, before he kisses you again, slipping one of his hands between your thighs to feel your heat with his fingers.
He rubs his fingers between your folds, and you let out a shuddering breath, body trembling with anticipation. You’re still so wet, and Hyunjin can’t help but involuntarily groan when he imagines what you’ll feel like wrapped around his cock. He takes his cock in his hand, smears your essence along it to get it wet, glancing up at you after he aligns himself with your hole. You look apprehensive, and he’s immediately worried you’ve changed your mind and want him to stop-
But when he offers, you quickly shake your head. You’re nervous, that much is true, but you want this- everything you experience with Hyunjin is new and beautiful, and you’re certain this will be too. And every time you’ve been hesitant, or scared, or anxious, he was there for you; he held you and listened to you and helped you find not only the courage to be where you are now, but your self-worth too. You love him, you trust him- and what better way to show him the depth of your love and trust, than to offer yourself to him, body and soul.
With one last affectionate kiss, a softly spoken promise to always take care of you, he begins to slowly push inside you. You both gasp, sensitive from your prior orgasms, the effect profound even before he’s all the way inside. There’s a slight discomfort at first that quickly gives way to tingly pleasure across your body, the sensation effectively stealing the breath from your lungs. Hyunjin clenches his jaw, breath growing more labored, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you even when his body is completely still.
He leans back down to you once your hips are flush together, wraps his arms around you, pressing your body against his. You wrap your arms around his neck, while he holds you under your shoulders, kissing you as he experimentally rolls his hips into yours. Each roll of his hips is slow and purposeful, as is each kiss you share. You understand now, why sex is often referred to as making love- because there can truly be no other way to describe the moment you share, and the feelings that come with it.
When he pulls away and looks down at you, his heart races even faster; you’re so pretty, beautiful- with your hair fanned out around you, the moon shining through your balcony doors highlighting the sheen of sweat in the most ethereal way. All he can think about is how much he loves you, how lucky he is to have you, how good you are to him. You’re perfect, utterly perfect in every conceivable way- and he knows you’d say just the same about him, would still find new ways to compliment him once you ran out of words.
Despite the languid pace, it doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to feel close again- he’s already cum once, and the sensitivity he feels from it in combination with the way your walls squeeze him is impossibly overwhelming. He squeezes you closer, his chest pressed against yours, his face burying its way into your neck. You can tell how close he is, from the way he twitches and throbs inside you, to the way he gasps and moans close to your ear.
Wanting to cum again with him, you move your dominant hand between your bodies, finding your clit with your fingers. When Hyunjin feels what you’re doing, he separates from you enough to watch, looking between your bodies to watch the way your fingers move. Your walls start to squeeze him tighter as you work yourself close to your release, and he can’t help but groan, hips picking up speed as he chases his orgasm with you.
Your noises grow louder once he picks up his pace, and you’re sure the guards outside your room have realized what’s happening- but neither of you can bring yourselves to care about containing yourselves anymore. You cum in tandem with one another- Hyunjin first, a strained groan of your name passing his lips as his cum shoots deep inside you, the feeling of it sending you over the edge with him.
Both of you are breathless and hot, with hearts thumping the hardest they ever have, but he kisses you regardless, paying no mind to his desperate need to catch his breath. He brings one of his hands to your face, caresses it as he kisses you, and still after he pulls away. He looks at you with such pure affection, soft admissions of love and tender care softly spoken for only you to hear.
Even after he carefully pulls out, he sticks close to your side, holding you close in his arms, refusing to leave you to go back to his own room. This is his place now- with you, listening to your soft breaths and stroking your head as sleep begins to take you. His own eyes quickly grow heavy, your warmth inviting, and he knows he’ll soon fall asleep with you. He whispers his affections, his love for you and how happy he is, knowing that this night is just one of many perfect nights you’ll continue to share in the future.
network tags: @skzstarnet @ksmutsociety
#ksmutsociety#skzstarnet#skz x reader#hyunjin x reader#skz smut#hyunjin smut#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz fanfic#mdni + divider graphic credit: @cafekitsune
484 notes
·
View notes
Note
Praise kink with Nanami, please😭
·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.
nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.
your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.
the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.
"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."
"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."
your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.
"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."
you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.
"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"
"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.
"feels good?"
"uh-huh"
"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."
"mmph~"
"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"
"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."
"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."
his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.
you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.
his cock twitches.
he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.
"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.
you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.
he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.
"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.
the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.
"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."
he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.
"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"
you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.
"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"
"yes, doctor kento"
"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."
your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.
no more secrets x
#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento smut#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#nanami smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut
669 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dirty Work 2
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.
You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.
You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.
As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.
You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.
You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.
The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.
As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.
You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.
You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.
You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress.
Home, to another man that makes you nervous.
🧹
Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.
You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.
“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”
“You get fries?” He growls.
“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”
“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.
“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”
“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”
He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.
It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.
You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.
You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.
You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…
You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.
🧹
The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.
You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry.
‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’
Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.
You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.
You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.
As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.
You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.
You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.
“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.
You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.
You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.
You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.
You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?
He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.
When I woke
I took the backdoor to my mind
And then I spoke
I counted all of the good things you are
He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.
You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.
The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.
It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating.
The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.
Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.
A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.
You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.
It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.
“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.
You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.
You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?
You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.
As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.
“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.
You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.
“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”
You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#maid au#marvel#mcu#thor#avengers
286 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to just focus on all the good Gentlebeard stuff and for the most part I am, but there’s just this small kernel of popcorn in my brain that’s really bugging the shit out of me and I’ve gotta get it out.
Look, I’m not an Izzy fan, nor am I a hater. I enjoyed him as a deadpan antagonist who couldn’t understand why Ed was so into *that* guy in season 1 and I enjoyed him as a reluctant Gentlebeard shipper who had his own arc of finding community in season 2, but ultimately I’m here for Ed and Stede, so if they tell me that Izzy’s only there to serve Ed’s character growth, I can go with that. But Izzy’s death… didn’t really do that…?
If they’d established all along that Ed’s trauma came exclusively from being Blackbeard with Izzy, then Izzy dying being what symbolically frees Ed from Blackbeard and allows him to be Just Ed would make sense.
But they very much did not do that. They told us in both The Art of Fuckery and The Innkeeper that Ed’s trauma comes from him thinking he’s unlovable and not a good person because he killed his abusive father. This has precisely nothing whatsoever to do with Izzy, so Izzy dying does absolutely nothing to free Ed from the darkness, and I’m just so, so confused about why it’s being framed that way.
And like… as an aside… Ed didn’t need to be free of the darkness. He needed to learn that he was still lovable and loved even with the darkness. So like… letting go of the darkness so that he can be free to be loved by Stede is… kinda antithetical to the conflict they established for Ed’s arc.
Izzy fans have outlined at great length why Izzy’s death doesn’t make sense for Izzy’s arc, and I don’t disagree. But Izzy’s death doesn’t really make sense for Ed’s arc either. At best, it’s just a thing that happened. A thing that really didn’t need to.
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mortala, the word, derives from the Latin adjective "Mortalis." meaning "subject to death." Comparable to the English word "Mortal." meaning the same.
—
You live in a rotting world. And that's not a metaphor.
You've known that since you can remember. It's a fact that's been drilled into your mind on repeat.
A rotting world that you must not explore. Stay where you are, stay where you're familiar with, stay where you're comfortable— In The Cinders with your older brother.
The Cinders might not look pretty, but it's not horrible. Steer clear of most streets, keep your head down, don't poke around in other people's business, and you'll be fine. You've learned to navigate pretty well, not to toot your own horn.
Plus, you've got a job, and so does your brother. Not good ones, but ones that can, with a joint salary, keep a crumbling roof over your heads.
—
Another thing that's been forced into your mind since you were spoon-fed is to never, ever disobey Belamour.
Belamour is a peaceful organization that was made to keep you safe. To do this, they have strict laws in place, and officers crawl over the cities to make sure you follow them. They are not a government, and they make it very known that they are not.
If you fail to obey, you'll get sent to your city's rehabilitation center! Isn't that nice? Or, on the worse side, you can end up in the Belamour Rehabilitation Center all the way in The Frost.
You and your brother made an agreement when you were very little that you would stick together, and neither of you would break any of the rules for fear of being sent to a rehabilitation center.
. . . An agreement your brother broke.
Now you have to find out how to get him the fuck out of there.
Mortala is a 16+ game due to explicit language, violence, death, anxiety, mention of past emotional abuse (not of MC), messy relationships, and more. A detailed trigger warning list will be listed before every chapter.
Customize the flawed main character, ranging from their gender to their style. (Semi-set personality. Set last name and age.)
Make risky choices that might result in you dying or being injured.
Build relationships between characters, romanceable and not.
Finally wipe The Cinders' ashes off you and explore more than just the burnt city you grew up in.
Go against everything you were taught growing up.
Lie to save your (and your brother's) skin.
These characters are not all romanceable, and you will not meet most of these characters until Chapter Two. Also, it's important to note that not all these characters have plot armor. This does not include sub-romances or all the characters you'll interact with.
FINNLEY ROSE. ✩
----
Finnley has raised you since you were 5, making him 11 when you started to rely on him. You never really understood the gravity of that until you were in your late teenage years, and that's when you really started to appreciate him. You regret things you've said to him, how you've hurt him— and lately, with his absence, that's all you can think about.
----
His skin is a shade lighter than yours, the same textured hair as yours, and he has brown hooded eyes outlined with eyelashes that make you jealous. He stands at 6 feet, 2 inches. (187.96cm)
HIRO LA'EI. ✩
----
Hiro has been your best friend since you were in diapers. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. You genuinely think he might be one of the sweetest people alive, despite what others might assume, and he jumps at the chance to help you with anything. . .
----
He has tan skin, wavy dark brown hair, and pretty doe-like brown eyes. He stands at 5 feet, 10 inches. (177.8cm)
! Option to have a crush on him— it goes nowhere, though.
MEDUSA CALIXTE. ♡
----
Medusa. What can you say about Medusa? To put it plainly, she's your best friend's ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him and gave no reason. At the time of their relationship, you thought she was. . . interesting, for lack of a better word, and when she left your best friend, it took a huge toll on him, and from the looks of it, it barely affected her.
----
She has russet brown skin, coiled light brown hair, often shoulder-length and worn in dreads, and upturned hazel eyes. She stands at 5 feet, 2 inches. (157.48cm)
MONROE HALILI. ♡
----
Your brother's best friend. They're concerned, and not just about their best friend. They're observant, annoyingly so, and can tell how bad his leave has affected you. Obviously, due to their status, they've taken it upon themselves to check on you- wanted or not.
----
They have deep tawny skin, curly black hair with white underneath, and dark brown monolid eyes framed with long, naturally curled eyelashes. He stands at 6 feet tall. (182.88cm)
! Option to have a childhood crush on them. (Three-year age gap.)
LIVIA ALARIE. ✩
----
Monroe's daughter. From what you heard from your brother, she's incredibly timid- Oh, and she's smiled at him. (He wouldn't shut up about it for a week.) You've never seen her or talked to her yet.
----
She has tawny skin, wavy black hair that reaches below her ears, and dark brown almond eyes. She stands at 3 feet, 7 inches. (109.22cm)
VIVIAN DE LA CRUZ. ♡
----
Your ex. You still think about them occasionally— you don't date someone for 5 years and forget about them even if you want to. You don't like how things ended, but you don't know if you want to see them again.
----
They have warm golden skin, light blue wavy hair, and downturned brown eyes. They stand at 6ft, 1 inch. (185.42cm)
! Details of the past relationship in their character profile.
Character profiles
Hiro La'ei
Medusa Calixte
Monroe Halili
Vivian de la Cruz
Informational posts
The Cities
Belamour Organization
Outside of Tumblr links
Playlists
Pinterest
Demo/Proof of concept
Extra
My other interactive fiction blog @destined-if
My personal account @bunnifly
Important
My banner is by Thomas Dubois
This interactive fiction is very loosely inspired by The Hunger Games
Thank you for reading ♡
#interactive fiction#choicescript#dashingdon#romance#thriller#dystopian#sci fi#mortala#cog game#cog#hosted games#choice of games#if wip#interactive novel#if#if game#interactive game
290 notes
·
View notes
Note
shao nsfw alphabet perhaps?
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Shao's version of aftercare is having his partner his personal arm candy. Kissing his neck, small hands exploring his proud chest, just completely clinging to him as if you cannot life without doing so. He is very satisfied in drapping one arm loosely around your waist while you absolutely worship him
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Overall, he is in love with all of himself. He is proud of his physique and wants his partner to appreciate it too. He'll purposefully but subtly show off his muscles and prowess. His aim is to have control over her reactions. Only he can make you shiver and shift so stiffly. That blush on your cheek is because of him and he quite enjoys that. He is also very proud of his horns
Their small stature. Shao is a wicked man who enjoys a partner who is in smaller stature to him. Loves how much smaller you are than he is. So delicate, so easy to crush...oh how he wants to break your body to only know the touch of him. There is not greater pleasure than that
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Prefers to absolutely cream pie his partner. He will have you filled up to the brim, leaking from your abused little hole while your small body twitches. He wants you thoroughly
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Wants to breed you so fucking badly. Why do you think he cums so much inside you? How even when his seed oozes out, he'll push it back it? It's all so that you will sire him many sons
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Shao knows sex well. He is quite the charmer in terms of carnal desires. He has frequented brothels and has taken many concubines during his time. He knows where to pry and push to have his pets sobbing and whining
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
He's a fan of all positions that give him the advantage but his favorite is with you lying face down and his large and rough hands holding your hips up. Though, he also like watching you pathetically bounce on top of his large cock like a greedy little slut too
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
General Shao makes it amusing for himself. He is not cracking jokes but harsh teases and jests. He'll chuckle at how drunk you look while his cock fills you up. He quite enjoys making fun of your rapturous expressions
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
General Shao does not have any hair located on his body. He is armored by tough scales that are course and rigid to the touch
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Not one for romance. His love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. It is more specific to say words of praise and adoration and body worship are his love languages. He is not the type to shower you with roses but he will treat you to the fine things in life such as nice dinners and expensive gifts
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
General Shao would never waste his seed like that. It is much too valuable to be pumped out by his own hand. No no, you must always be there to receive his natural essence
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Size difference- is size is not to be trifled with. Everything about Shao is large, very very large. He works his partner open. First with his tongue, thick and wet. Then with fingers, long and pointed. He makes sure to take his time in part to prepare you but largely because he loves how it makes you writhe and squirm. His size is enormous, the stretch is something so awful but oh is it perfect. You wouldn't take him any other way. He'll slowly fuck himself into, spreading more and more of you apart until finally he feels himself hilted inside. Then the claws of his fingers trace over the outline that is so clearly etched into you. He laughs lowly, a hand now at your neck as he whispers pure filth into your ear from behind
Body Worship- Shao wants to be praised. He wants to be revered as if he a god. When his partner worships his appearance, his strength his ego blooms and bursts into pure sexual prowess
Power and control- It's all about the power play for him. He likes to be in control and be in charge in the bedroom. You have no complaints. He is dominant, he is commanding. He will have full control over you and your release. General Shao has his partner finishing multiple times before he even begins to consider closing that final distance between you two. He loves how it is his and only his actions that bring you to such raptor
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Prefers to ravish you in his personal bedroom. There is something so...naughty about bringing such a pretty little thing like you to his room and ravaging you until the sun rises
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
His partner's small stature really gets him going. He muses about all that he could do to you, how small you are, how easy it would be to crush you but he would never do that. The fun would be over then
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
His partner attempting to be dominant over him. He is absolutely not one to be commanded. He lives that life serving under Sindel's thumb. The bedroom is his kingdom and he will not share it
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Loves, and I mean loves, when he receives oral. It barely fits past your lips and he loves that. He loves watching them warp around his girth, impossible to take all of him down that throat of yours. He watches you with keen eyes, never once does he look away from you
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
When actually having sex and not teasing, he is fast and overpowering. It will always be a rough experience for his partner no matter the time and place x
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Shao has actually grown quite fond of quickies. He thinks it's so cute how you babble as he quickly shoves his massive length into your suffocating and straining heat
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Shao will try risks if it pleases him. If his interest is found with a new method, he will try it
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Too much for his partner's own good. You will know no peace during those long drawn out hours
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Has toys but uses them exclusively on his partner. He'll mostly use vibrators on you in teasing ways. He wants you begging him for release and his cock
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Very unfair. He'll edge you, have you cumming again and again even when you tell him its too much. There is simply no stopping his playtime with you
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He's actually pretty quiet in terms of vocalizing his own pleasure but he is loud in his verbal teasing of you and his rather low laughter
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Wants to sit upon Sindel's throne and bounce you atop his cock while you cry and whine in front of a large crowd of people. What a great way to start his reign as Emperor
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Large and in charge. Shao is massive and imposing and so is everything about him. His length is long and thick. Curves upwards and is colored slightly tanner than his skin
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Considerably high. He likes to have sex with partner every other night at least. It is hard to catch time to breath during the multiple rounds that occupy the night
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Doesn't fall asleep and instead excepts you to just absolutely drape yourself over him, kiss his neck and tell him just how amazing the sex was. He is always very pleased with himself
#mortal kombat#mortal kombat fanworks#mk1 2023#mortal kombat headcanons#mk1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat smut#general shao#shao kahn x reader
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
wanna be your victim, ready for abduction
ship: tentacle monster!wanda maximoff x reader
summary/request: mating season makes wanda moody. companion piece to infect me with your lovin’, fill me with your poison (not required, but recommended)
word count: 3.8k
warnings: dark themes and smut (18+ proceed with caution), dark dom wanda, dubcon, kidnapping, implied drugging and somno, noncon medfet, stockholm syndrome, pet play adjacent, forced intimacy, pet names (little one, pet, human), abuse, vaginal sex (reader receiving), tentacle sex, oviposition, pregnancy, breeding kink, size kink, praise kink
masterlist | monsterfucker celebration 2022 masterlist
A sharp rush of electricity across your skin wakes you violently from your unconscious state. Your body reacts on its own, jerking in the bounds you had no idea you were in. The distinct smell of a sterile hospital room fills your senses, and you start mentally taking stock of any signs of pain in your body. Was there an accident? Were you carried to an emergency room? Do hospitals usually secure you to operating tables like this?
Other than the dissipating shocks still tingling through your body and the disorientation that still has your vision blurred, everything feels normal. You blink a few times, trying to adjust your eyes in the harsh light from the lamp angled at your face.
The room comes into clearer focus, and you're even more confused than you were already. It looks more like a lab than a hospital room. The light blue of the tile floor shimmers under the fluorescent lights, almost iridescent, like one of those pretty jellyfish when their translucent skin catches the light peeking through the ocean waves. There's the faint imprint of what looks to be a high-tech door on the wall opposite you, beyond another table similar to the one you're strapped to. You suppose the keypad next to the faint outline of the door is what slides it open. Next to you is a table with various medical tools. Scalpels, gloves, forceps. The one on the very end makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion.
What could be happening to you that warranted use of a speculum?
"Hello?" Your voice is raspy. Suddenly, you're made incredibly aware of how dry your mouth is. You wiggle in your bounds again. This time, they feel looser - perhaps from your sudden struggling earlier. You're able to squeeze your wrists out of the cuffs, which leave angry red marks where they dug into your skin. You rub them, pouting.
Nobody responds. You sit up on the table so that you can reach down and uncuff your ankles. The cuffs unbuckle easily, and you slide off of the table after that, looking to the other side of the room where you couldn't see before. There's a door on that wall too, with a matching keypad. You steady yourself, still feeling a little weak, before going over to that door. The keypad is a touchscreen. It lights up green as you tap it, but the text that appears is nothing that you can decipher, no language you've ever seen before. After aimlessly tapping to different screens, none of which you can read, the door shockingly slides open with an eerie silence.
You don't even get a chance to react before you're shoved to the ground by something - far too hefty to be a person pushing you down. The tile floor that you were admiring earlier does not offer you a soft landing, and you groan as you push yourself upwards. Your efforts are stopped dead in their tracks by your limbs being pinned to the floor.
Above you, a woman comes into view. Her wild mane of hair frames her stunningly beautiful face, her eyes piercing through you like daggers. For a moment, a wave of calm almost rushes over you at the sight of her. You're not sure why, really. Perhaps just your brain trying to cling to any semblance of hope that was torn away the second you realized that this was not a hospital.
Your eyes trail down her body, widening as they reach the bottom of her torso. Jutting out from her are what can only be described as dark tentacles, thicker and without suctions like octopi have, but tentacles nonetheless. A quick glance at your limbs makes you realize that they are what shoved you down and are pinning you to the ground. You tug at them experimentally, before they're slammed back down.
"You're not very smart, are you?" The woman says to you, tilting her head with slight amusement at the fact that you're still attempting to escape.
"Who the hell are you?" You try to sound intimidating, but you're sure that no matter your efforts, it's useless.
"Does it matter?" You don't know how to answer that. She watches your chest heave from the attempts at wiggling free, which somehow you're still trying. It's cute, seeing you struggle like this. She takes a single ounce of pity on you. "Wanda."
"Great, so what the fuck am I doing here, Wanda? And what the fuck are you?"
Apparently, you've pushed your luck too far, because one of Wanda's tentacles loops up and around your throat, giving you a warning squeeze. She lifts you from the floor, not even sparing you a glance or acknowledging your legs flailing as she carries you back to the table you woke up on.
"Put me do-ow..." The words get choked out of you as she squeezes your throat tighter. Wanda's eyes narrow as you continue to thrash in her grasp. She only lets up and releases her chokehold on you when your body is forced to stop struggling to preserve the little air she allows you. You cough, already dry throat desperate for any sort of relief.
"You're very lucky that you're only useful to me alive," Wanda states, tentacles finally unraveling from your arms. You don't even get the chance to protest or ask what that means - not that your voice would allow it in this state - before you see one of her tentacles spurt out a foggy red mist over your face, and your vision fades to black once again.
The smell of something cooking greets you as you finally come to. Your entire body feels sore, particularly between your legs. You remember the speculum on the medical table and wince. The chill of the room makes you suddenly very aware of your naked body. A few bruises litter your skin. You prod at one on your thigh, hissing at the pain.
Thin metal bars surround you, and you realize that you're in an oversized dog kennel. Wiggling your fingers through the crate, you try to find the latch on the outside, but it's got a blocky device on it that has the same keypad as the laboratory doors did. You huff and grab the soft blanket that’s crumpled up in the corner and wrap it around yourself.
The crate appears to be set up in the corner of a very quaint looking kitchen. That explains the smell. Two women’s voices fill the room. One is Wanda. The angle you’re at doesn’t allow you to fully see her face, but you can just barely make out her hair on the other side of the kitchen island. Sitting on a barstool on the island is a dark haired woman, dressed in a neat purple sweater.
"If you don't expose your human to your true form, do you not think they'll be afraid of you when the time comes?" Wanda asks the other woman, who snorts in response. “What? It’s a fair question, Agatha.”
“Oh, hon,” the woman, Agatha, laughs. “I know this is your first abduction, but you don’t have to act like it. Fun fact, humans tend to soften up more towards other humans versus hideous eldritch beings.”
"So?” Wanda huffs, stirring the pot on the stove that’s giving off the delicious smell. She doesn’t look nearly as scary anymore, tentacles tucked away elsewhere, wearing a long cardigan and mom jeans. For a “hideous eldritch being”, she’s rather adorable.
“You have stacks and stacks of trashy human romance novels on your shelves,” Agatha scoffs. “I shouldn’t have to explain why being nice to the creature you want to mate with is more helpful to you in the long run. Though, guess you always have preferred more instant gratification.”
The word mate rings in your ears. Is that why Wanda took you - to be some vessel for a freaky alien species?
Frantically, you try to mess with the keypad, only for it to flash red symbols at you. Even though you don’t speak the language, you know that means you’re not freeing yourself.
“You roll your eyes at me saying ‘you catch more flies with honey’, but I’ll have you know that my human never tried to escape from a kennel,” Agatha says, without even looking over at you. You freeze. Wanda whips around from the stove, looking much more like the terrifying monster she was earlier.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Wanda says through grit teeth, marching over to your cage.
“Nothing,” you lie. She narrows her eyes. Agatha is silently sipping her tea in the background, watching the mental tug of war with great amusement. To both you and Agatha’s surprise, Wanda simply presses her thumb to the keypad and opens your cage, moving so that you can crawl out.
Still wary of Wanda, you slowly stand up, holding the blanket tighter around your body. Wanda opts to ignore you and go back to the stove, leaving you confused on what to do. You stand there dumbly as Agatha keeps talking to Wanda about her own “pet”. Wanda has her back to you again, and you consider running before you remember the way she so easily overpowered you before.
There’s an empty stool next to Agatha. You tentatively go to sit in it, but just as you touch the seat, Agatha coughs and says, “Wanda, your pet is trying to get on the furniture.”
“Get down,” Wanda says firmly, shooting you a look over her shoulder.
“I want to sit down.”
“Then get on the fucking floor, human,” Wanda spits out the last word like it’s venom. She says it like there’s a hierarchy present, and she’s clearly the apex predator with you beneath her. The bit of self-preservation left in you finally takes over, and you sink to the floor next to the stool. “So, you can listen. Now, crawl over here.”
Humiliation fills your body as you follow Wanda’s orders, crawling the other side of the kitchen island and sitting near Wanda’s feet. You refuse to look up at her, keeping your head ducked down, staring at the hardwood floor. Two bowls are set down in front of you. One is filled with water, the other is filled with what appears to be some kind of stew over rice. You look up at Wanda.
"For me?"
"Can't have you starving now, can I?" Wanda gives you the first smile you've seen from her. Your heart leaps a bit.
"Can I have a fork?"
Agatha finds this very funny for some reason. You shoot her a look, but it's not very intimidating from your position on the floor.
"No, little one. Pets eat on the floor," Wanda pats you on the head condescendingly. When you give her a grumpy look and nudge the bowl away from you in silent protest, her hand reaches out for your head again. Only this time, she tugs your head backwards by your hair, tight grip making you wince. Wanda gets close to your face, eyes intense. "You eat and drink from your bowls, or you don't get any food or water at all."
She releases you aggressively, causing you to topple a bit in your kneeling position. You almost want to call Wanda on her bluff, remembering the comment she made earlier about how she needed you alive. But, your dry mouth and growling stomach have other plans.
You duck down to lap at your water, and you're so thirsty you finish half the bowl in record time before moving on to your dinner. Really, you have no idea how Wanda, who must be some sort of extraterrestrial being, learned to cook human food, but once you taste it, you're certainly not complaining. Wanda and Agatha keep talking about Agatha's pet, ignoring you as you devour your meal.
When you finish, you look up at Wanda. You don't know why, maybe you're hoping for some sort of praise for doing what you've been told. Something to tell you that you've satisfied her for now. She rewards you with such, patting your head and wiping the rice that stuck to your face before slipping a thick collar around your neck.
"What's this for?" You ask, playing with the shiny tag that dangles from it.
"In case you forget who's in charge and try to escape," Wanda says plainly, patting you on your cheek.
“Is all of this really necessary?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Wanda doesn’t even look up from what she’s typing to answer you. This is the third time in the month you’ve been with her that she’s taken you down to the lab for a “check-up.” Whenever you ask about why she’s giving you full medical exams - and snarkily ask where she got her doctorate - she just shushes you and continues looking at your charts.
You assume it has to do with that comment Agatha made on your first night about mating, but even when you ask about that specifically, Wanda just ignores you and continues your exam.
“You don’t give a lot of answers,” you huff, swinging your legs so your heels hit the side of the bed. Wanda visibly scowls at the thumping noise. “Are you gonna steal my brains or take over the world or something?”
“Only if you keep annoying me.”
“So, that’s a yes.”
“Don’t worry about that, little one,” Wanda hums, finally abandoning the computer to cup your face. You’ve gotten used to her touching you by now, so you don’t squirm away like you often did in the first weeks. “You’ll get your answers very soon.”
“Wanda, it hurts,” you sob. “Please.”
Your limbs are pinned tight, positioned spread eagle on the soft bed that you had just come around to getting comfortable napping in. Wanda’s tentacles twitch slightly around your wrists and ankles, and she hovers above you panting hard, eyes closed in a mix of pleasure and desperation. One tentacle is pushing its way roughly into your cunt, thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. That doesn’t stop her though. You’re not sure anything would.
“Too bad,” Wanda grunts, tentacle thrusting deeper inside of you. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
“Y-yes,” you admit. As pathetic as it is, Wanda’s praise has fueled you a lot through your time held captive. You fight back so much that it’s rare, but when she is soft with you, it fills you with warmth that you want to bask in all day. “I’ll be good.”
“Good,” Wanda moans, rewarding you with her fingers on your aching clit. You almost scream at the stimulation, everything too much for your fragile body to handle. A burst of fluids gushes into your cunt, and you assume that means that Wanda’s climaxed. “Good pet.”
Alien anatomy will remain a mystery to you, however, because Wanda just doubles up on her thrusts inside of you. The extra fluid lubricates you enough so that it doesn’t hurt as much, and your eyes roll back in your skull as your body finally succumbs to the pleasure of being stretched and filled.
You hate that you ache to touch Wanda. Maybe it’s just your raging hormones or the forced intimacy that you’ve come to enjoy as of late. You want to wrap your arms and legs around her and pull her body into yours. You crave being able to nuzzle into her skin, maybe even mark her neck like she does yours. But that’s not in the cards for you. At least not now.
You’ll win her over.
It’s not like you have a choice in being here, might as well try to make the most of it.
"Stop that," Wanda scolds, one of her tentacles reaching out and bopping you on the head.
You ignore her, continuing to press your nose to the window, peering into Agatha's home beside yours. Agatha's pet is being tugged into her lap, and you gasp quietly to yourself as you realize that she's slipping a strap into them. "Human, what did I say?"
Wanda marches over to the window beside you, curiosity over what has you entranced overtaking her annoyance with you not listening. She shakes her head when she sees the scene you're watching.
"Little voyeur, are we?" Her hand runs through your hair as your breath catches. "You're lucky Agatha doesn't mind. I think she's actually been planning on this."
"Why don't you ever fuck me like that?"
"What?" Wanda's taken aback by your question.
"You always fuck me with these," you pat the tentacle that's slowly started wrapping around you. It squeezes around you as a warning, but you stupidly ignore it. "I've never even seen Agatha's tentacles."
"She's an idiot. She thinks that her pet won't resist if she waits to show her true form. Her pet will see soon enough.” The thought of the breeding period that the two women talk about still makes your stomach twist in knots. "I was kind and didn't deceive you. I showed you what I was right away."
"Kind is not how I'd put it," you grumble, moving away from the window. Regret immediately hits you as you're jerked back to the couch by Wanda's tentacles. She pins you to the cushions, closing the curtains with another tentacle so Agatha can’t catch a glimpse.
“I don’t appreciate how cocky you’re getting. Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”
“How could I forget?” You try to avoid her gaze, but she grabs your jaw, forcing you to look into her eyes. It’s hard to tell what Wanda’s moods will be like. Sometimes, you’re able to push her buttons without much punishment. Other times, you’re almost immediately reprimanded for so much as being too slow responding. The drastic shift of moods is the worst part of everything. If Wanda was only cruel to you, you’d at least know to never step out of line, and it would be easier to deny how deeply attached you are to her. It’s almost like she enjoys giving you room to fuck up so she can break you in all over again.
“Would you rather be Agatha’s toy? Is that why you’ve been spying on her lately?”
“Maybe I should,” you growl.
“So, you like her better, huh? Is that it?”
“She’d be better than you! I hate you!” You cry. Wanda looks genuinely wounded by your words for a second, but it doesn’t last long. A tentacle is shoved past your lips, and you immediately gag on the appendage.
“You don’t,” Wanda says in a low voice. You swear you hear her voice crack. “I know you don’t. I see how you look at me. I feel you curl into my side at night. Hell, you were the one to ask to sleep next to me.”
You gurgle around her tentacle, tears streaking down your face. Wanda, overwhelmed by her own emotions, pulls back. You gasp for air, coughing a little. She cups your face, smearing your spit on your chin. Your eyes flutter shut at the comforting motion.
Always soothing the pain she causes.
“Say you love me.”
“Wan--”
“Say it. Say you love me.”
There’s a silent please left in the air. She’s desperate for it, you can hear it in her voice and see it in her watery eyes.
You could make her say it. You could hold that over her, if you wanted. But you take pity on her.
“I love you.”
Wanda knows you mean it. She doesn’t say anything back, just nods and pulls you close to her. You can hear her humming softly, something you’ve noticed she does when she’s upset. You crawl fully into her lap, sighing against her neck. She hesitates for a moment; but, as you settle she finally wraps her arms around you.
“Will you make that rice dinner tonight?”
“Of course, little one.”
Agatha always teased Wanda about how her breeding period made her moody. You didn’t put much stock in it until you got to see for yourself how drastically Wanda’s demeanor shifted after her rut.
Even though you made fun of her for being kind and introducing her alien body early on, it made it much easier on you when Wanda went into a full frenzy one day, pinning you down to the bed and fucking you for hours until you were filled with gooey, wet eggs.
It was drastically different than the other times Wanda had taken you. She didn’t tie you down with her tentacles, but rather held you close to her chest in her arms, breathing heavily against your cheek where she kept pressing kisses and mumbling praises, telling you how good you were doing, how well you were taking her, how pretty you were going to look full of her brood.
Wanda even let you touch her, allowing you to mouth at her tits, tugging on her nipples as she thrusted deeper and deeper into you. After she stuffed you with her eggs, she didn’t let you get up for hours, grabbing anything you needed from the side table with her tentacles.
Since your stomach had become swollen with her, she hasn’t snapped at you once. She’s constantly doting over you, always asking if you need anything and insisting on doing things for you. Though you had long since broken past her pets belong on the floor rule, sometimes you still sat between her legs while you watched television out of habit. But now, Wanda forces you to sit on the couch, propping you up comfortably with plush pillows.
You’re not sure what normal pregnancy feels like in comparison to alien ones, but you assume that human babies don’t come with an occasional subtle glow in your stomach that your alien partner is fascinated with. Wanda’s always touching you now, hands rubbing over your tummy, feeling her eggs shift inside of you.
���You’re beautiful,” she says one day while you lay on the bed with her reading. You look down and see her staring at your stomach, fingers tracing over the subtle outline of the eggs.
“Me or your babies?” You laugh, scratching her scalp as she presses a kiss to your stomach.
“Both, but mainly you.” Wanda crawls further up the bed, meeting your lips in a deep kiss. You moan as she bites your lip, smirking against you. She pulls away, and you see a little sparkle of mischief that you’ve never seen in her eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing,” Wanda hums.
“Liar. Tell me.”
“Oh, I’m just thinking about how much I like you like this. Seeing you full of me.”
“Kinky,” you tease. Though, the statement makes your cheeks heat up with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Her possession over you has shifted into pure devotion, and you were more than happy about that.
“Mhm. And as soon as these babies hatch…” Wanda presses a small kiss to your cheek and whispers against your skin, “I’m going to fill you up all over again.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff smut#dark wanda x reader#darkfics#c: wanda#silver's 2022 mf celebration#silver writes#tentacle mommy!wanda#IS THAT MY TAG FOR HER
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
would you be down to give me a rough outline of how Prowl has been characterized over the publication history of the tf comics? I mean, in as far as you know about it. Every time you mention the costa stuff it makes me curious
I can try! I can't really drill down well without a thing to focus on specifically, but here are some general highlights.
Furman (and stuff that directly draws from Furman's run, like AHM as a whole) characterizes him basically as he did when writing Marvel G1, and gives him so little to do that not very much really comes out even then. Uptight, stick-in-his-ass, still a basically Good Guy TM and while he puts people's backs up a little, he's not under any level of suspicion. This is the closest to continuity-agnostic "fanon Prowl" you get in IDW, because that fanon figure draws quite a lot on the Marvel G1 characterization (when it isn't simply making things up wholesale, anyway). Furman copies his own homework, basically, lmao.
Roche is the guy who wrote phase two Prowl into existence as we know him. Rather infamously because he thought it was an interesting take on the character to er, ignore all the above stuff and make the Autobot SIC a rat bastard, lmao. Roche and Barber's interpretations came to dominate the character in IDW going forward, but they do differ. Roche's Prowl is more isolated from other characters (one does not really imagine Wreckers Prowl calling Bumblebee his best friend sincerely, as exRiD Prowl does), and people treat him as disliked by default. Even before the worst of what he does comes out, his reputation precedes him. Also, Roche's Prowl speaks fairly neutrally, whereas exRiD Prowl speaks more casually than fandom tends to admit to! Finally, Roche's Prowl is less spontaneously, outwardly emotional than Barber's is later on, and tends to fit the fanon stereotype of "always restrained" more.
Costa came in post-AHM but pre-Wreckers and hated all that, so he retconned it. LMAO. His Prowl is the archetype of the "good cop" protagonist surrounded by corruption, combined with surface level noir tropes that sort of work in tandem with those but lacking any grit. (Costa seems to understand what noir looks and sounds like, but none of the underlying narrative devices that make it function as noir.) This Prowl is specifically supposed to be (here's the retcon) someone who used to be more deliberately cold, removed and logical but who has specifically decided to change to be different following his experiences on Earth. (Spotlight: Prowl is a good one-issue explanation of Costa's perspective on Prowl, which is not the same as being a good comic.) As time goes on, the sheer unpopularity of this take pushed Costa to undo it a bit, and reintroduce some level of ambivalence to him... but by and large he remains kind of the "good authority figure who objects when the systems are misused" type, almost? His conflict with Spike is very much over the fact he expected better of Spike, see.
Barber's Prowl notably does not wholly throw the Costa stuff out the window. (This is why the Spike stuff features a lot; it's really the only strong emotional hook Costa's work gives you for his version of the character to grab at.) But Prowl is back to being a morally gray figure whose moral ambivalence is very strongly tied to his role as an authority figure- and that's worth mentioning. Prowl's downward spiral being intrinsically linked to his refusal to relinquish authority, and his abuse of it, is something that is all Barber and not Roche. (In Wreckers, Prowl is an asshole because of personal arrogance. In exRiD, he's more an asshole because of his role enabling a wider system, by the end. IMO that's a big difference, anyway.) He is not starting off exRiD loathed by absolutely everyone, or a figure of preexisting serious mistrust. That's something that develops over the course of the comic as things come to light for the characters in-universe, meaning exRiD Prowl feels like he's put up a more convincing shield in front of his worse dealings over the course of the war, perhaps. His position deteriorates significantly over the comic. He is more prone to balancing his deliberate cold-heartedness with angry or emotional outbursts than we saw in Wreckers, leading to him having multiple outbursts that worsen his situation over the course of the comic. This is the Prowl who holds grudges.
Roberts' Prowl is kind of different to talk about to the above because his Prowl in Shadowplay and his Prowl in Titans Return are different genres. I can do a post on that if folks really want but it probably is its own post, haha.
IDK feel free to clarify any specific stuff you'd like a vibe on if you want, this is all just what came to my mind instinctively!
#idw*2 is a mess and i would need to reread to criticise it properly.#dw is just Marvel Again but with the inexplicable stranglehold praxus has on fanon forever added
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
Please imagine:
[5k words of an outline for a big Bingge centric AU, mentioned QiJiu and MoShang and potentially one-sided BingQiJiu. Time travel, fix-it(?)
Warning for canon typical child abuse and torture, mention of sexual abuse, minor mention of cannibalism, Bingge is his own warning let’s be real]
Binghe goes insane from Xin Mo and abandons his humanity completely, then devolves further into a rabid beast until Mobei and the Wives all work together to put him down. Xin Mo is so entangled in him that it can’t exist past its host anymore, so it unleashes all that it has left to prevent Binghe’s death.
That’s when the reset happens.
It’s like coming back from the brink, when your head breaks the water and the dark recedes from the edge of your vision as air fills your lungs. Sanity is a cold thing when surfacing from the depths of madness, but it keeps the warm animal-hunger of bloodlust and beastly instinct on the edges of his consciousness and that’s fine.
He’s a child again when he regains conscious thought, standing in front of the tea set, about to make that first cup of tea for his future Shizun, and he can’t afford to be a beast right now. There’s a part of him that feels different, the parts that Xin Mo devoured alongside his sanity have now been returned to him, soft and squishy and human. It’s strange, coming back to humanity after so long - how long? Decades? Centuries? Time has lost all meaning to a beast that could hunt and breed whenever it pleased.
Binghe doesn’t remember how to make tea. He’s not certain he ever knew at this age, but the beast in him recoils at the memory of scalding tea dumped on his head. He looks around, as subtle as he can, to find something that might help him avoid that. Shen Qingqiu is talking to Ming Fan, rattling off the necessities they need to provide the first new disciple since Ming Fan became head disciple, but Binghe can feel the man’s attention on him. Shen Qingqiu has noticed his hesitation and he’s waiting to see what Binghe is going to do next. There’s no help to be had there.
Ning Yingying lurks around, too curious of the new shidi to stay away, and Shizun indulges her as long as she stays close enough that he can track her. She would know how to make tea. She has always been one of his smartest wives - she made the array that pinned him down and stripped him of fang and claw and poison so Mobei Jun could shove portals under his skin, drain him of his healing blood and finally unmake him.
It was an agonizing way to die. He deserved all of it and more.
When it seems like an opportune moment he quietly asks Yingying shijie how to make tea fit for their Shizun. She pretends to tie his hair for him - shidi can barely see through this fluff, this won’t do, here’s how you tie it properly - and tells him the instructions in a whisper so quiet even he can barely hear it.
Shen Qingqiu notices, of course he does, but he pretends that he doesn’t. The tea is not great, but it’s palatable and Shen Qingqiu drinks all of it while he runs Binghe through the rules of the peak and the expectations placed on a scholarly disciple of Qing Jing. It’s such a jarring difference from the first time when he got sent away right after the tea incident that he can’t help but drift in his chaotically spinning thoughts instead of listening. This is not the kind Shizun, he thinks. So why did the tea make such a big difference? (Years later Yue Qingyuan happily tells him how he blackmailed one of the rich boys into showing him how to make tea for his own peak’s tea ceremony because he didn’t trust the adults enough to ask and couldn’t afford to seem lesser than those of higher birth and Binghe finally Gets It.)
His thoughts are interrupted when Ming Fan arrives and shoves the ‘new disciple care package’ in his arms. Binghe is still not used to being tiny again, so he tries to hold all of it like he would as an adult and can’t, dropping his manual and the writing kit in the process. Yingying immediately hops to pick it all up, scolding their shixiong for bullying the new shidi while Shen Qingqiu watches with a cold mask of indifference.
The manual has fallen open and it gives her pause when she picks it up. “Shizun, I don’t think this manual is right.” Shen Qingqiu says nothing, but he takes it from her and glances at the pages.
Binghe is certain that he’s the only one who notices how Shizun’s hold on the book tightens in anger until his fingers turn white. “It’s an older manual,” he says, neither voice nor expression giving away the rage he must feel to grip the book so tight. Luo Binghe knows even his smallest tells and the man is seething. “Go to the library pavilion and pick up the proper edition for your shidi. Dismissed!”
It’s a few days later when Binghe is trying to find a good spot in the library to practice his calligraphy - he knows how to write, in theory, but he forgot so many of these mundane little rituals in his madness that he needs to refresh the memory - when he walks into the range of a silencing array. It’s obviously a fluke that it extends into the corridor, but if Binghe puts his ear to the wall he can clearly hear Shen Qingqiu rage at his hallmasters and the head of the library pavilion because of the manual. The fake, harmful cultivation manual, one of many that have ruined and killed lonely disciples before, the ones who didn’t have friends or other support to notice that something was wrong.
Manuals Shen Qingqiu has ordered removed and destroyed when he became peak lord. Orders that the hallmasters ignored. Does Peak Lord Shen think they have the time to waste on something like this when the peak is already short staffed? There are more important parts of the collection to maintain than the beginner manuals - the only ones who would ever fall prey to the false manuals anyway are the charity cases, and they are not the ones who fund the scholarly peak. Really, this wouldn’t even be an issue at all if Shen Qingqiu didn’t let Liu Qingge goad him into taking on a dirty beggar child. Don’t they all know that things crawling in the dirt are never worth the trouble? Once filth, always filth.
Luo Binghe is almost bowled over when Shen Qingqiu storms out of the meeting, blind to his environment. The man’s qi roils, razor sharp like shattered glass, his anger driving him to the cusp of a qi deviation. Binghe has a hunch that whatever this is about, it’s not about him. Shizun would not be so angry on his behalf.
He could never figure out why the man mistreated him, could never break Shen Qingqiu open enough to get the answer he needed. This feels like an opportunity, a chance to unravel this puzzle, and it tickles his instincts to have something to chase, to press his nose to the trail and hunt.
So he starts to sniff around. People overlook children so easily, it’s almost effortless how he finds piece after piece. He learns that the people on the peak - the cultivators from his generation in particular, the pavilion overseers and the hallmasters - don’t respect Shen Qingqiu and often undermine his authority when he’s not there to personally force them to adhere to his standards. There’s an especially tense period every time after the Peak Lord leaves for the city - for the brothel, they say, to drown in his lust or to use some hapless girl as a cauldron and bolster his own mediocre cultivation - when they seem especially bold, holding his indulgence over his head like a finely balanced sword.
He learns from Yingying that he’s the first disciple to get into the peak through the selection for the last decade. All the other disciples are young masters and scholarly prodigies who come recommended by their mentors. They don’t need their Shizun’s encouragement to try and bully Binghe, even when he’s not rolling over like he did in his first life. He fights back, tooth and nail, a rabid little thing that leaves scratches and bruises on anyone who would provoke him and he doesn’t have to worry about sleeping in the woodshed because more often than not the dormitory overseers isolate him from the others as a form of punishment.
Shen Qingqiu doesn’t interfere. He looks with the same disdain at both perpetrators and victim, bruised black and blue, and forbids them from leaving the peak until they are presentable again. It’s not until a particularly bad fight when Binghe takes a bite out of one of them, digging his teeth into a soft cheek and swallowing both the bloody chunk and the screams of terror with dark satisfaction, that Shizun’s hand is forced. Binghe is thrown into solitary confinement until the boy’s parents can come and demand fitting punishment for permanently disfiguring the rich brat. Binghe is grateful for these few days of isolation. He needs them to shackle the instincts screaming for blood, to calm his demon side that’s straining against his seals. It wasn’t like this the first time, but he came back as a beast in a boy’s skin so it’s not surprising.
He puts on the face of a lamb when they lead him outside, to the cold morning light and then to the punishment hall. The boy’s parents - a high-ranking official in the mortal Emperor’s court and his lady wife - look at him like he’s less than dirt, but there’s a glint of cruel satisfaction in their eyes when the stone faced Shen Qingqiu announces his punishment: by their demand, Binghe is to receive ten lashes with the discipline whip, or fewer if he passes out.
The Sect Leader came to oversee the punishment and the horror on his gentle face is obvious to all. The disciple whip is a cruel thing, one that can cripple even advanced cultivators, and will set Binghe’s cultivation back by years if it doesn’t ruin it altogether. The Sect Leader gives Shen Qingqiu a pleading look and Binghe lifts his head to tell him not to bother - when could Yue Qingyuan ever influence Shen Qingqiu for the better? - so he catches the Sect Leader’s expression when Shen Qingqiu flicks the case open and takes out the whip. Just for a moment, his expression flickers into surprise, then relief, before it turns into a blank mask. Binghe has no time to ponder what the hell that is about, because Shen Qingqiu swings the whip with the ease and confidence of practice and the line of fire down his back startles a scream out of him. He lived a whole life as a warlord and demon, but this body is that of a human child, unaccustomed to this sort of pain.
The world fades to black after two more strikes.
When he comes to, he is laying in a soft bed. The bedding smells clean, but oddly stale - like a guest bed they only air out every other day, but never use. He turns his head and the bamboo house comes into focus. It’s Shizun’s room and Shizun’s bed, but that makes no sense - where does the man sleep if not in his own bed? His cultivation isn’t good enough to forgo sleep altogether. There’s something here, a corner piece to this puzzle Binghe is struggling to fit into the big picture. Is this why Shizun keeps going to the brothels? Can he only find rest in the embrace of women? Binghe, formerly a very active master of a harem with hundreds of wives and concubines, can’t judge him for that. He already dismissed the rumors about Shizun abusing a cultivation cauldron; dual cultivation is one of the few methods to mend ruined meridians and Binghe still remembers how wrecked Shen Qingqiu’s cultivation was when he caught him.
There is yelling from the main room, Mu shishu’s incensed voice and the low rumble of the Sect Leader as he tries to calm him. Eventually a blank faced Shizun leads both of them inside and Mu shishu ignores all etiquette to rush to the bed and take stock of Binghe’s injuries.
“These… these are not the marks of a discipline whip,” he says, confused and relieved.
“Of course not,” Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “I don’t keep one of those wretched things around on my peak. As if those fools could tell the difference between a discipline whip and a regular slaver’s whip. All they wanted was to hear the little beast scream.”
The Sect Leader hurriedly reassures Mu shishu that the whip strikes are painful, but with the right treatment they won’t even scar.
“Zhangmen-shixiong, are you saying that from experience?” Mu Qingfang asks, massaging his temples and startles a little when Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan say “Yes!” in perfect unison. Another corner piece for the puzzle.
After his injuries are treated and Yue Qingyuan shepherds the healer outside, Binghe is left alone with Shen Qingqiu.
“What am I to do with you, little beast? If you don’t learn to rein yourself in, I will kick you off my peak before you can drag our reputation down.”
“He deserved it. They started it.”
“And? This is not Bai Zhan. You are in no position to make such a ruckus about things. Your stunt lost Qing Jing almost a tenth of our yearly funding. My own shizun would have beaten me to death if I pulled something so idiotic.”
“Then why didn’t you?” He’s starting to understand Shen Qingqiu, the wretched little slave, who clawed his way up to become Peak Lord despite his ruined cultivation and digs his teeth into what’s his so nobody can take it away, but he still wants to hear it from the man himself. “Do I remind you of yourself, Shizun?”
“Little beast, you are asking for a beating.” Shen Qingqiu forgot his fan, or else he’d be hiding behind it, as always. Binghe’s Shizun has such a terribly thin face. “You have potential and drive to make something of yourself. I want to see how far it will take you. If you learn how to hide your claws better.”
Oh, Binghe knows exactly how far he can go. But he humors his Shizun and does a demonstration of his White Lotus routine. Shizun fetches a fan just so he can smack him over the head, but says that it’s an adequate act, for now. However, if Binghe can’t fool the peak into believing that he mellowed out from the punishment, then he shouldn’t expect help from his master!
They settle into an understanding over the next few years. They are not of a kind, but they are both beasts after a fashion and now that he finally peered under Shen Qingqiu’s unbreakable armor, he doesn’t resent the man as much. Is he himself not a violent, monstrous thing once you peel off his pleasant facade? What filled the human child with fear and resentment entices the adult demon that now lives in his skin. Besides, Shizun hasn’t hurt him in this life. Shen Qingqiu usually lets him be, only interacting with him as much as any other discipline, but sometimes under the guise of chores he takes remedial lessons to perfect his act. The years he let go of his humanity took their toll and he needs the guidance to set some of the details right.
“I think I might be part demon,” Luo Binghe says one day, sipping tea in the bamboo house. For two hours straight Shizun poked and prodded at his insecurities, reaching for a level of unpleasantness he doesn’t often aim at him and Binghe kept his mask of a perfect, demure youth all throughout. At the end of it Shizun poured him a cup of tea and reluctantly praised his acting. It’s a thorny thing, Shizun’s praise, but it has set a warmth in Binghe’s chest that refuses to go away.
“You are fifteen. It’s probably just puberty.” Binghe laughs at his Shizun’s expression of disgust. Shen Qingqiu is technically not wrong either, because it’s his steadily growing sex drive that keeps aggravating his demon half. “I have met men who wish they could be demons. I don’t care as long as you don’t tarnish the reputation of the sect.”
“The sect or Qing Jing Peak?”
“The sect. Drag me down with your madness if you want. I chose to take responsibility for you as your Shizun, but leave the others out of it.”
The others in this case, Binghe has learned, means Yue Qingyuan. Binghe is not sure what ties the two men together (ten thousand arrows and a throat split open on the shards of a blade) but it’s a kind of devotion and he wants it for himself. He set this thread of fate against Xin Mo’s blade and it remained unbroken, so he wants to tangle himself up in it until he can forget that he has no thread of his own. He couldn’t find true peace in the embrace of a thousand women, but when he imagines himself sandwiched between Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan, the most resilient and the strongest man the human realm can offer, he thinks he could be satisfied. Shen Qingqiu’s sharp edges stimulate the demon part of him that wants to court with his fangs and claws bared and Yue Qingyuan’s soft brotherly manners soothe the neglected human boy he tried to rip out of his soul, but never managed. They would be perfect.
But first he has to find out why Shen Qingqiu keeps pushing the Sect Leader away and mend their relationship somehow, and a crucial step to that is making sure Liu Qingge lives. Binghe now suspects that the Bai Zhan War God’s death was an accident, but it drained Shen Qingqiu of any will to stand up for himself and he can’t allow that to happen this time around.
“When I passed Liu shishu earlier I sensed that his qi was unbalanced. He is heading to a deviation soon.” He can blame it on his Shizun that he learned to sniff out impending qi deviations, because Shen Qingqiu had them often and always, always tried to cover them up. “I know he is going to Lingxi caves for isolated cultivation and I overheard Mu shishu say that Shizun is following him in a fortnight. I want Shizun to be prepared to call for help if Liu shishu turns violent and attacks him.”
It’s a battle to convince Shizun to take the emergency talismans, but Binghe eventually wears him down. He spends the whole night before Shizun enters the caves drawing the talismans; it’s his punishment for bothering Shen Qingqiu so much in the past two weeks. Soon after, the Sect Leader leaves and Binghe doesn’t remember the exact timeline anymore, but it sounds like things are happening the way they did before; Liu Qingge’s death and the demon invasion was barely a week apart and Yue Qingyuan was absent for both. So Binghe loiters around the emergency medical team and waits.
Nobody notices it when he slips into the backline of the emergency team, keeping pace with them through the winding pathways of the Lingxi caves until something calls out to him, his instincts suddenly on high alert, and he falls behind, just as unnoticed. The side cavern is almost completely blocked off and once Binghe squeezes inside he can’t see anything, but he doesn’t need his eyes to tell what happened. Poisonous, disturbed qi saturates the cavern, heavy on his tongue with pain and fear and desperation, the rage of a dragon trapped in a bottle, thrashing to break free. He can feel the marks gouged into the walls when he touches them, can taste the blood saturating the surface when he licks along a deep crack.
A beast was trapped in here, a beast that tastes like Yue Qingyuan.
The discovery makes him giddy and he has to tear himself away from the cavern before the qi could damage his human cultivation or the sweet song of blood could awaken his demon half. Outside he finds that things happened as he expected, and to his relief both Peak Lords live. Liu Qingge seems unbearably insistent on undoing the damage he did to Shen Qingqiu’s reputation in the past, but Shizun seems just as annoyed by his attempts as Binghe, so it’s fine.
The demon invasion happens just on schedule and Binghe goes in with a plan to use the demon elder’s poisonous attack to pretend that was what awakened his demon half. It's a good plan, one that's immediately dashed by Liu Qingge, who can't bear to sit and watch when Shen Qingqiu gets to fight. For a blissful moment Binghe entertains the idea of revealing himself anyway and ripping Liu Qingge limb from limb, but he restrains himself and moves right on.
The encounter with Meng Mo is different. In the dream realm Binghe is not a child and he shuts off access to the dream before the old demon can pull anyone else in with them. Then he bows to the elder with all the respect his old mentor earned in that other life. “This Binghe is overjoyed to see Meng shushu has found him again.”
It’s strange, to explain what happened to him to someone who can’t possibly remember those events, but Meng Mo takes it all with grace, even when Binghe admits that Xin Mo trapped the demon in his own nightmare and slowly consumed him. Binghe doesn’t strictly need the grandfatherly old demon in his head - because as much as Meng Mo would deny it, Binghe has met enough demon families to now recognize him for the very typical demonic grandfather that he is - but his presence feels right and his power can tide them over until Binghe decides to break the seals.
Together they hatch a plan to trap his Shizun and his Shibo in a dream until they are forced to talk to each other. It’s easier said than done, because with Liu Qingge nipping at his heels again to demand a spar (get a hint already shishu, Shizun doesn’t see sparring as a bonding activity and you never told him that you mean it that way!) Shen Qingqiu refuses to go down to the brothel to sleep. Finally, when sleep deprivation is driving Shizun to the brink of a qi deviation, Binghe has enough and bluntly presents him with a sleep tonic. “You can take it willingly or I can hit you over the head and take you down to the city. Your choice, Shizun.”
It’s enough of a threat that Shen Qingqiu allows Binghe to distract Liu shishu with a barrage of very specific questions about an upcoming nighthunt and sneaks out to the city himself. The distance would usually be a bit bothersome, but Binghe can grasp the thread tying Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu together and pull them into a joint dream in the middle.
It’s worse than he expects. He gets a front row seat to their worst nightmares and even fully knowing that these are only memories, his demon blood burns to rip their enemies apart. Meng Mo bodily drags him outside of the dream so his enraged howling can’t disturb the long overdue reconciliation between Xiao Jiu and his Qi-ge.
“He was so cruel to me in that first life, I never imagined that he ever had it worse,” Binghe admits quietly when his rage has cooled, pale as a ghost as they watch the shade of Qiu Jianluo force himself on his child slave.
“Have you ever…?”
“No. Even I had my limits. I made sure they wanted me, even if they regretted it afterwards.” How many women did he feed to Xin Mo’s endless appetite over the years? He never counted. Meng Mo just hums and then shoos him away; the old demon can maintain the dream until the humans are done sorting themselves out and it’s probably not good for Binghe’s psyche to watch all of this.
The next few years are a blur. Binghe keeps his distance from Shen Qingqiu when it becomes clear that the reconciliation followed them out of the dream. He doesn’t want Shen Jiu to think of him as a disciple, a child, he wants to leave and return as a dashing suitor, so he watches from afar as things slot into a much more pleasing picture than before. With Yue Qingyuan’s broad shoulders propping him up, Shen Qingqiu finally gains the power to back up his words and a genuine confidence to match his proud bearing. He kicks all his detractors off Qing Jing and calls an audit from An Ding to clean up all the leftover filth before the new hallmasters take their post. Yue Qingyuan shuts down a nasty comment during a peak lord meeting about Shen Qingqiu’s brothel visits by reminding everyone that they are allowed to visit their family outside the sect if they want to, and this is everything the sect gossip talks about for the next sennight. It prompts Ning Yingying to bashfully admit to her trusted Luo shidi that her mother is one of Shen Qingqiu’s 'sisters', that she joined the sect on his recommendation. Maybe A-Luo would like to meet her sometime? He’s like a little brother to Yingying and she wants him to meet her family.
Not everything is perfect, of course. Qing Jing is still heavy on the physical punishment, second only to Bai Zhan, because the fear of pain works extremely well on the rich brats, but Binghe’s growing restlessness sees him punished more than all the disciples put together and on him it has a very different effect. He can’t help it, his libido is out of control and the people he wants are out of his reach, so the only things he can channel his restless energy is aggression and too long nights of masturbation that leave him too tired to function the following day. At one point Shen Qingqiu even threatens him with the whip again if he doesn’t cut it out, and the thought of Shen Qingqiu whipping him bloody fuels his fantasies for the next several weeks.
It’s three months before the Immortal Alliance Conference when Meng Mo digs his heels in about the course of their future.
“We are not getting Xin Mo.”
“I need it if I want to become strong again.”
“I reviewed all of your memories and I can confidently say that’s not true. The wretched thing hurt you more than it ever helped.”
“I will never get out of the abyss without it. I need it for that long and then I will lock it away.”
“If you pick it up you will never be able to put it down again. Just like in that other life.”
“Then what do you suggest? Am I to just stay in the abyss and perish?!”
“No, of course not. Ask Xiao Mobei to teach you his portal trick.”
“... Let’s start with the obvious that it would not work and let’s not go into the logistics of how I’m even supposed to get hold of him.”
“You have actively used Xin Mo for fifteen centuries.” Was it really that long? It didn’t feel that long. “You have absorbed enough of its residual energy that with the right teacher you should be capable of learning portal manipulation. Whether the Mobei boy is willing to teach you or not is another matter.”
“We were friends before I went insane.” Before he merged the realms and accidentally destroyed Mobei’s entire kingdom and all his subjects in the process. “I think I have a way to convince him.”
Thus starts the long chase to get into Shang Qinghua’s house so Binghe can talk to him in private. It’s much easier said than done. Much as Qinghua has made his peak self-sustaining, he is still busy as hell and when he's not then he's in his leisure house which is the most well-warded building in the entire sect. They only manage a meeting with two weeks left to go before the conference.
At least convincing Shang Qinghua is easy enough. “I recently found out that I'm part demon and I want your prince to help me get away after the conference” is a clear motivation why Binghe would want to talk to Mobei and “I can see from your bruises that he's trying to court you - very carefully, by his standards, I don't see any frostbite - I can make him understand that you are not interested or how to do it the human way, whichever you prefer” makes Qinghua’s expression twist into something both calculating and flustered. The wonders a millennia lived as mostly a demon does, Binghe muses. He was too young and too human to realize that Mobei was pining hard for his little snake of an advisor the first time around. He's not surprised when it all turns into a Human Courting Dos and Don’ts 101. He's not sure if Qinghua is really interested or he's just too scared to turn Mobei down, but when he comes to finalize the details of his getaway the leisure house stinks to the high heavens of happy ice demon, so it's working at least.
He talks Mobei down from letting his entire menagerie loose on the disciples (Qinghua breathes a sigh of relief. He might be able to keep his position as a spy and not lose all his enrolled disciples after all) and shows him where to send the most dangerous beasts for a more targeted attack against Huan Hua’s adult cultivators. Binghe doesn't much care about the disciples, but the least amount of damage done against the sect, the more likely Shen Qingqiu will take him back soon once he returns.
The night before the Conference he finally visits Shen Qingqiu in his dream to show the man his true self. “I told you that I'm a demon.” In the dream Qingqiu is scrawnier and not quite the perfectly polished image of a peerless immortal. Binghe revels in tracing his eyes over all the scars he can see that have been long erased from his skin in the waking world. “I need to leave for a time, after the conference. But do not fret. When I return I will be Junshang and lay the demon world in front of you and Sect Leader Yue as a courting gift.”
He keeps Shen Qingqiu in the dream long enough that his Shizun can't talk to him in person before the event begins. It would spoil the fun to have a fight with his future intended before the hunt.
This plan, unlike the demon invasion one, goes off without a hitch. When Qinghua is portaled into Mobei’s palace a week later for one last report before Binghe leaves, the man has only good news - the sect only suffered injuries and no deaths, and as an added bonus the Iceclaw Assassin Wolf they dropped into the Huan Hua ranks took out the Old Palace Master and his most trusted people before it self destructed. It’s a better outcome than he dared to hope for.
Mobei refuses to teach him portals (for now) but gives him a token that can portal him out of the abyss if things get dicey or Binghe is done training, so that's fine as well. All is ready. Binghe is going to go into the abyss and then seven years later he’ll come back out, fully in control of his heavenly demon heritage and as much of a beast in body as he is in spirit.
The Northern Consort greets him coldly, glaring at him from under a huadian painted with Mobei Jun’s blood that leaves no doubt in anybody’s mind about the king’s devotion to his little human husband. “What took you so long?” Shang Qinghua asks, unwinding one of his many layers of fur and dropping it on the shivering Binghe. The pelt barely covers his shoulders, but it warms Binghe all the same. “Zhangmen-shixiong has been hounding me day and night about your return. Shen Qingqiu refuses to hold their wedding without you there.”
“Ah, but Shang shishu.” Binghe spreads his arms wide, showing off his new physique with a grin. “I promised to lay the demon world before their feet. I couldn’t possibly return before I was capable of upholding that promise!”
Consort Shang is unimpressed.
“Next time, just get them a stick of tanghulu to share. Much easier to get and I bet you anything they would appreciate it more.”
He might not be wrong about that. What is the demon world to a pair of slave boys who rose to the top of the cultivation world on their own power? Comfort food made by his own hand is a much sweeter gift.
Binghe is still going to conquer the demon world for them regardless. He promised, after all, and what kind of husband would he be if he went back on his promises?
#svsss#luo binghe#shen qingqiu#shen jiu#bingqijiu#tc writes#if I ever find the energy to write all these fics it will be all over for you#Bingge is a bit removed from his grudge against SQQ bc it happened so long ago#but in exchange he can be a feral beast in human skin#as a treat#there was no good spot to fit it in there but Bingge also forgot how to cook#he had to have turned into a literal abyss monster for the others to finally decide to put him down and it did no favor to his tastes#poor Yingying had to experience a lot of undercooked or questionably seasoned meals during their friendship#also please imagine YQY going through a few less palatable iterations during his time in the cave#before he remembered that he was supposed to be a boy and was let out#locked in the dark trying to remember that he's not a sword or a beast that's all hunger and sharp edges#his shizun kept him in there until he stopped roaring and screeching and started screaming like a proper human should#I like my Yue Qi with Hidden Layers and at least half of those are also very feral#they conflict nicely with how much of an enabling wet blanket he is#and I say that with all the fondness in the world#I like Yue Qi I want to give him headpats and lock him in a room with Xiao Jiu until they sort their shit out
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
Haunted
“Something's gone terribly wrong,
Won't finish what you started
Come on, come on, don't leave me like this”.
Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Summary: Reader escapes her abusive ex and moves to the alps. Bucky is in denial about some things, like what the year is, and if he’s dead. Part 2/6
Warnings: ghosts, death.
Masterlist Pt.One Pt.Three
“Steve!”
Bucky is falling, eyes locked with his best friend, it all happens in an instant. One second he’s reaching out, watching Steve disappear in-front of him. Falling from the train feels like time froze, but it ends when he hits the frozen earth. He’s gone on impact. His spirit won’t accept it, it won’t accept that he failed.
Bucky rolls in pain, screaming Steve’s name. Steve is long gone, Bucky has no chance of catching up with the train. He stands, grabbing his riffle that landed near him. He lets out a yelp of pain when he tries to move his left arm but it’s dead weight. He throws the gun strap over his head, tightly gripping his arm to his body.
His mind races as he runs through the trees, one boot after the other. Bucky never backs down, he never gives up. Even when every muscle in his body is screaming to stop, go back, slow down. He runs for miles. He can’t feel any part of his body now. He’s almost frozen solid. But still, Bucky keeps taking one more stride. He spots a light in the distance and has a burst of energy.
A small cabin comes into view. He’s bumbles through the door without notice. He prays no one’s here, he only speaks English and doesn’t know how to explain. It’s empty when he does a quick check. That’s enough for Bucky to throw the gun on the coffee table. He peels the blue jacket from his body, his chest puffs out with every jagged breath.
He lays down on the couch, letting his feet hang off the side. He doesn’t know how he got himself into this position, but he just wants to go home. This was Steve’s territory. Bucky never wanted to be a hero. What he does know is that he’s fucked. There is a snow storm passing through, and no one would make it here in time.
He falls asleep, nightmares of being frozen in the ground flash in-front of his eyes. His arm torn off, bones and flesh exposed. He screams for help, he begs for Steve to come back. He replays falling, over and over again. He just wants it to stop. He shoots up on the couch, being awoken by the sound of the door opening.
He looks up wildly as the bright sun blinds him, he sees the outline of two old ladies come through the door, paper bags in arms. He quickly stands, about to excuse himself for intruding in their home. But he notices the way they don’t stop talking when walking in. One keeps going to the kitchen and one turns around to set a fancy new tv on the coffee table.
The women can’t see him, Bucky walks over to the kitchen, waving his hand in front of the senior citizen. She just mindlessly puts away groceries. He scoffs, turning to the taller lady of the two. “Can you really not hear me?” He laughs. The woman jerks her head to the side, squinting her eyes at the empty living room, his eyes grow, knowing she heard him.
He goes to say something to the woman with the groceries but when he turns around she’s not there, and he can’t find the taller woman now either. They’re gone. He sits down on the couch, pulling his left arm to his chest. He closes his eyes and suddenly he’s back on the train with Steve, the events of falling replay. Then he’s being awoken again by the sound of the key turning.
He sees you walk through the door, the sight of you causing him to jet up. You look so cold in only a sweater. He says “Hello?” But you just stare past him. He can’t wrap his head around why no one can see or hear him. Maybe he’s invisible, he got pumped with some kind of super power just like Steve.
Bucky is sat with his head in his right hand, when your legs come into view. He looks up and your stood there with a feather duster and an old rag, leather polish already sitting on the table. He stands, swiftly gliding past you. He watches you reach out for the wall. Shaking your head free of something. You look dazed for a moment.
Watching you devour apple pie made Bucky like you more than he’d care to admit, after a certain point, he started to feel like a creep watching you saunter around the cabin. You didn’t know someone was in the room when you decided to strip all the layers of your clothes and curl up on the couch.
Bucky may be a lot of things but a weirdo, he is not. He is starting to feel like he is invading your privacy. He makes his way for the front door, swinging it open, letting the snow hit him in his face. You jolt up behind him, and he instantly feels guilty. You look like a deer caught in headlights.
He stands frozen in place as you make your way in-front of him and close the door. Standing this close to you he can see the color of your eyes more clearly, they shine in the golden lamp light. You’re breathtakingly beautiful to Bucky. Your beauty isn’t like any other girl he saw back home. Almost futuristic in a way.
Before Bucky can disappoint himself any further you walk away, find yourself tucked into bed. He stays in the living room, accepting that of course he gets the couch again tonight. When his eyes close, he is holding on to the side of the train. Begging Steve not to drop him, but he does. He falls, and falls over again. It only ends when he hears glad shatter and you scream.
He watches you as you sweep up the glass, your brows pressed tightly together. He can feel the blood pumping rapidly through your veins. He doesn’t like that you’re afraid. He doesn’t know what to do to make you relax, he follows you up the stairs and sits with you while you sleep. He reaches out, moving your hair from your face, and you take a long deep breath. You produce a smile, causing Bucky to smile, he leans over you and grabs your blanket, pulling it over you.
He quietly steps down the stairs and stands in-front of the couch. Every time he sits on it, he has horrific nightmares, maybe he should try the chair. He sits down, kicking his boots up on the coffee table. Like clock work he’s falling, then limping through the woods, holding his arm. This time he sees you in the distance about to enter the cabin, he yells for help but you don’t hear him, he’s right behind you as you close the door, but he’s too late. He tries the handle but his fingers pass through it, they disappear for a second like a mist. Bucky blinks at his hand as it regenerates in-front of his face.
He hears Steve’s voice echo in the woods “Buck! Come back!”. He turns around and faces the pitch black trees. His left shoulder starts with a searing pain, then it turns into a mind numbing ripping and tearing feeling. Bucky sobs out “help me.” Before he falls to the ground. He jerks awake from his dream, feeling the soreness in his otherwise dead weight limb.
You gasp and Bucky jerks his head in your direction. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, your hand covers your mouth. You’re looking right at him, he swears it’s almost as if you could see him. Then you scream at the top of your lungs and Bucky knows, you really can. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” You yell, you look more terrifying than anyone Bucky had been fighting before all this.
He stutters out a reply “I, I’m a sergeant in the United States military ma’am. I was wounded fighting some Nazis not so far from here. This place isn’t safe. I need your help getting out of here, I need to get to a town and find a phone.” He waits for your reaction. When it doesn’t come he continues, “I’m calling my friend, Captain America. Do you know who that is?”.
You stare at the man who you think broke into your house. He’s obviously completely off his rocker. “I don’t have anything of value, take the rugs, they’re worth the most besides the copper wiring.” You say, backing yourself away from the intruder. Bucky doesn’t say a word, too confused by what’s going on. “I don’t think the nazis are coming for you sir, that was 70 years ago,” you trip going backwards on the steps but catch yourself with your hand “no need to do anything rash.” You finish, completely terrified.
Bucky stands and doesn’t say a word. He just walks out the front door into the daylight. You’re left all alone wondering if any of it really happened. You barely slept all night, due to the nightmares, maybe this was a walking nightmare, something made up by your mind to fill in gaps. You tried to rationalize it as you close the front door. You can’t rationalize the strong scent of pine and mint that fills the whole living room. You lock the door behind yourself, then start searching the cabin for you phone. Once you find it you see that you have no bars. You have to go outside for service.
There is no possible way you’re following outside, what you think is either a serial killer, or an apparition your mind created. You can’t take that chance. You go to the front door, looking out at the rising sun, it was no longer snowing, so the rays were bouncing off the white crystals. You notice there are no foot prints in the snow on the porch. Surely if the man had walked out the door, you would be able to see his tracks. The pristine white coat stared at you through the window. Now you know your mind is playing games.
#avengers fanfiction#avengers#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#james bucky buchanan barnes#marvel#mcu#bucky fanfic#ghost#bucky x you#winter solider x reader#bucky x female reader#supernatural#fanfiction#fanfic#the winter soldier#cabin#mountains
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
currently trying to calm my nervous system enough to sleep so i can wake up way too early and watch this last episode, so here have a silly little list with no particular order or logic of some of my realisations about yr from the first five eps of s3:
this series lives in the rewatch and in the parallels - like all good stories there is potential and reality explored on every plane. there is parallel hurt and heartbreak, parallel vulnerability. parallel institutions, parallel but so very different love interest outside of the elite. parallel intimate gay videos that shook the narrative to its core. parallel crushing responsibilities and floundering grief.
the commentary on elitism lives in every sentence. "you have already [taken a side]." there is no neutral ground, there never has been.
sara and august's relationship mirrors wilhelm and simon's - only an entire season behind. my god do I have Thoughts about this, but basically if you want to track their arc you have to look a season removed. august fought to be seen by sara this season the same way wilhelm fought to be seen by simon in season two.
the way this entire arc this season could have vilified the concept of pornography in a very sex-negative way but didn't is a breath of fresh air.
the definition of what is public and what is private aren't objective truths, they're so intertwined with community, isolation and social standing, and simon and wilhelm struggling to come to terms with this reality has been heartbreaking to watch.
djjskalskdkslsjdjd simon's songs make me laugh mostly because the lyrics sound like things I tried to write when I was 15 and thought I knew the entire spectrum of human emotion and enough basic guitar chords to be a popstar; I giggled very much a lot at his cheesy metaphors.
the cycles of abuse described in the story are tragic, terrifying and real. all of it, from self- and institutional- to interpersonal-abuse are outlined in such a nuanced way that it hurts to watch. it's incredibly clever if you look close enough.
this has never been a love story. this has never been a love story. this has never been a love story. this does not mean we haven't seen a love story nor that we won't get a happy or hopeful ending here, but young royals is a drama series with its inception firmly in the genre of teen murder mystery that through careful molding has become a politically charged statement against the oppressive culture of the elite. this has never been a love story, it's been about what happens when two people (two siblings) enter this world, and whether they can survive it, disrupt it, or be decimated by the strength of it. this has never been a love story but I love omar and edvin so much for making us believe it was.
#there is so much more whizzing around in my lil head but let's stop while we're ahead#let me know if you're the tiniest bit curious about any of these thoughts#young royals#young royals season 3#yr season 3#young royals analysis
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
(NSFW) SHORT — Kai (02)
Originally Written: 07-15-20
Prompt: I wanted to wait, but I'm weak. Could you please write a little scenario of Kai, where the reader has been playing with his nipples for a while now, to the puffy and flushed point, and now they lower a hand to his crotch, lazily stroking him just to piss him off and try to make him even louder?
Kai wants to scream. Of course, doing that would just give you way too much satisfaction, so instead, he bites his lip until he tastes copper in his mouth.
He's sitting in your lap, which is embarrassing enough in the first place, but what's making it worse is that your hands are reaching around to his front... and playing with his nipples. You've been at it for a full ten minutes by this point. Kai hated it to begin with, but—
A rough pinch at both sides has him biting back what he knows is some awful noise.
He's not supposed to be sensitive like this. He's an assassin of Blight, not some cheap whore who gets hard just having his nipples abused. But. He's hard, and so far, it's just from your touch at his chest and the little giggles of amusement that he can hear you trying to stifle. It's humiliating, but somehow, that's just making him hotter.
"Does it feel good?" you ask almost mockingly. Kai isn't going to dignify it with an answer until you dig your nails into his nipple on one side.
"F-Fuck—!" is what comes out when biting his lip fails. Kai feels his hips twitch. "Quit that!"
"Mm, why should I? I mean, you obviously like it. Just look at yourself~" You sound way, way too pleased with yourself. Kai sort of wishes he could choke the smugness right out of you.
He's going to ignore the fact that he could never do that to you. He's also going to ignore what you said and absolutely not look down and see what you've done to him. In fact, Kai's going to keep his eyes closed and distance himself from the feel of your fingers at his chest as much as possible— before he does anything else awful.
"Kai," you say with that stern tone that always makes him shiver. "I said, look."
Growling low in his throat, Kai obeys.
The second he looks down, he feels himself suck in a breath. His nipples are downright red where they poke out between your fingers. You pull away for long enough to let him see that they've also gotten swollen and puffy. His whole chest is flushed pink.
Kai whines a lot louder than he wants you to hear. The sight of that makes his head spin. Even the scars crisscrossing his chest, ridged under your fingers, are less shameful than what he just saw. It's so embarrassing that he feels ready to get up, shut himself in his room, and not speak to you for a week or so. He can't believe that you're seeing him like this— he can't believe he's letting you. But, at the same time...
You pinch his nipples again and Kai arches into the touch.
"You're sensitive, aren't you?" you breath right into his ear. "Getting turned on just from this?"
Now that you've said it, Kai is painfully aware of how hard he's gotten. The one mercy here is that he's facing away from you so you can't see the bulge in his sweatpants.
"Sh-Shut up," he hisses. "You're th-the one who's doing this to me."
"But you like it. Your cute little tits are all red just from a little bit of touching..."
Kai makes an infuriated noise, squeezing his eyes shut. You give both of his nipples a rough twist— and the sound that leaves him is unmistakably a moan. He grits his teeth in a desperate attempt to hold back anything else that could slip out, but all he gets is another twist that has him jutting his chest out even farther for more.
When you laugh, Kai thinks that he should probably elbow you in the ribs. You deserve it at this point— for doing this to him.
But instead, he tries and fails to stay still, squirming helplessly in between bitten-off moans.
When one of your hands slips down to his crotch, Kai almost jolts out of his skin.
You cup the bulge in his pants, sliding your fingers over the outline of his fully-hard cock, tracing the line of him, and feeling out the wet spot at the tip. Kai heaves a sharp, miserable breath. The noise that slips out can only be described as a wail. He's so turned on that it hurts. He wants you to get your hand down his pants and stroke him off for real, not torture him with these little touches that are just working him up and making him want to scream.
"Come on—" he bites out. "Do something, already. Quit fucking around." Even though his words are sharp, Kai's voice is tense and strained, higher-pitched than he's ever heard it.
"I am doing something~" you hum. "I want to see if you can come like this. Or at least... how worked up I can get you. If you get desperate enough to beg, I'll give you what you want." With what Kai knows is a smirk, you lean up behind him far enough to nip at his ear.
Kai makes a low, frustrated noise. His hips buck up into your touch out of his control. There's drool dripping down his chin. This is misery, and there's no making you stop.
(Never mind that he could easily stop you if he wanted to. Don't think about the fact that he's twice as strong as even your best effort. Ignore that he could get up and leave and stroke himself off alone without you forcing him to stay.)
Eventually, you abandon the touch between his legs in favor of tugging at both of his nipples again. Kai whines through his teeth. This is too much.
All he has to do is beg, his head unhelpfully supplies.
No. No begging. He'll outlast you even if it kills him. He can be patient. He doesn't have to give in and plead just so that you'll give him some relief.
Kai sniffles in a way that he prays you don't hear. His eyes are stinging. He squirms in your lap, feeling your nails dig into his nipples torturously. It's so humiliating it feels like it'll kill him, but Kai knows that he's running out of fight to keep his pride.
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know your requests aren’t open cuz of school, cuz I relate. But when (and if) u are free, could u write smtg for andrey rublev, maybe smut?? Thank u and love u.
Could you break a heart, if I asked you? - ANDREY RUBLEV
Majorca was another type of beautiful in December. The weather was warm enough to go sailing by day and just about cold enough to warm up by cuddling at night. Not that Andrey minded, anyway.
This night was much like the other nights of our week long vacation, except for one minor detail. I could not sleep. I didn't know whether to attribute it to the nap I'd had that afternoon, or to the wetness between my legs. Whatever the case, i needed to sort out the latter.
Andrey had been doing an interview with some Spanish sports network, and he was currently on his way back. His work seemed to follow him even when he was deliberately trying to run away from it.
I shifted to lay on my back, legs bent at the knees and slightly ajar. I ran my hands up my body, pulling my nightshirt up as I went, imagining it was him. I imagine bis fingertips brushing against the underside of my breasts, moving upwards towards my nipples. I whimper pathetically as my other hand cups my soaking middle over my panties.
Pulling my panties aside, I bite the corner of my lip as my other hand plays with my erect nipples. I imagine it's his fingers instead of mine that were rubbing my clit, preparing my entrance for his- my fingers.
"Andrey," I moan helplessly, as I play with my breast inch my fingers intomy throbbing heat. Once I get accustomed to the intrusion, I begin to pump my fingers.
My eyes screw Shut as I feel a knot tighten in my lower stomach. I rub on my clit with my thumb, making me draw nearer and nearer to my release and just as I am about to come, my hand gets pinned above my head.
"honestly, malenkaya, I haven't been gone that long, have I?" Andrey whispers to me.
"i- please," I say, not sure what I'm begging for.
"you're so needy. Such a mess for me, yes?" He rasps. I nod, fully aware of his leg between mine, pressing against my throbbing heat.
I need him.
Involuntarily, I rock my hips against his thigh, leaving a trail of wetness on his pants. His eyes fully dilate and I know he's gone feral.
He trails kisses along my jaw as his free hand plays with my nipple. The pleasure he's granting me is mind blowing, but not enough.
"Andrey," I whimper "let me touch you."
His lips never disconnect from my neck as his large hand let's go of my small ones. I immediately begin to tug on his shirt, wanting to take it off him. He catches on and detaches from me and takes off his shirt and pants, which are now stained with my arousal. I see the outline of his cock through his white Calvin Kleins, and I know he is painfully hard.
He pulls me towards him by my thighs and his mouth immediately latches onto my breast and he begins to suck and bite me. I moan his name out loud, glad that nobody outside these walls can hear us.
His fingers deftly massage my folds, looking for my little nub, and one he finds it he abuses it. I try to close my legs around his hand but his other hand makes sure to keep my thighs apart.
He keeps his thumb pressed against my clit as his middle and ring fingers slide into my moist, warm sex.
"Andrey," I whimper as he pumps his long fingers in and out of me. My orgasm build shamelessly quickly, and i find my body jerking in the throes of an orgasm.
"you're so fucking perfect for me," he said as he fingered me through my orgasm. "So beautiful. I love you so much."
I only realised that I had been squeezing his biceps and I left crescent shaped marks in them when he shifted tho take his boxers off. He was violently aroused and ready to come at my second. I found myself slickening at the thought.
"do you want more?" He asked as he aligned himself with my entrance. I nod frantically, looking up at him doe-eyed.
"you know that's not how it works, so be a good girl and use your words," he rasped. The combination of his dirty words and the head of his cock pressed against my entrance sent me into another state.
"Yes, Andrey, please," I beg.
"so needy, he rasps as he kisses the nape of my neck.
Slowly, he enters me and the familiar stretch to accommodate follows suit.
The pleasure is immediate and intense.
He pulls out again, leaving me empty and wanting.
"please," I beg, almost in tears.
"such a needy girl," he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear lovingly. I melt.
Without warning, his hand wraps around my neck and he thrusts into me fully. My eyes close involuntarily.
"open your eyes, malenkaya, I want to see them go hazy as I fuck you the way you like," he commands. My eyes immediately open and find his staring at me like I'm the only woman in the world.
His first thrusts are slow and careful, getting me used to his intrusion, but as time goes on, caution is thrown to the wind and he fucks me with reckless abandon. I can feel his other hand dig into my waist, adding another layer of pleasure. Soon, I am clenching against his girth, signalling that I am close.
"let go for me," he says, and that's all it takes for my orgasm to come crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. Not long after, he fills me with his hot seed with a groan.
""fuck," he whispers. "You're so precious. You did so well for me. I love you."
He kisses me on the lips as his grip around my neck loosens.
"let's get you cleaned and fed. Come on now malenkaya," he says before scooping me up in his arms.
I haven't written smut in like... Forever so I'm sorry if this was trash fr. But I need to practice
Sorry for posting late; I did warn you about my hectic schedule.
-sadie
#Andrey Rublev x reader#Andrey Rublev smut#Andrey Rublev x oc#Andrey Rublev fanfiction#Andrey Rublev fanfic#Andrey Rublev#tennis x reader#tennis imagine#anon asks
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Know I Hate it When You Cry: Part 3
Rooster x Reader
Catch up on Part 1 or Part 2!
Bradley Bradshaw x Reader pairing
Summary: Reader gives Rooster a shot.
Also- text messages are in italics and purple!
Warnings: *** This story contains Mentions of Abuse (physical, emotional, sexual)*** Please be advised this could be triggering. Angst, Eventual Smut, Protective and adorable Rooster.
18+ Minors DNI.
Laying on your bed, your hand absentmindedly runs across your healing abdomen as your stare up at the ceiling. You traced the outline of the freshest bruise softly, thankful that Penny had put you up in her sister's cozy home. She was traveling Europe for the summer, and after a phone call, Penny had situated you there for both your privacy and protection. She knew Grant was unfamiliar with the home should he come sniffing around Miramar.
Bradley's words about protecting you replayed over and over in your head; "I know I don't. But I want to."
You couldn't figure out why he cared. He barely knew you, and you told him just that. You remembered the frown on his face, his eyes meeting yours. Before he could reply, however, Penny came over, sensing the tension.
"Time to go, Bradshaw," she had said in a friendly and soft tone.
The look he gave you before pushing back his barstool was one that could only be described as determined.
Your phone buzzes next to you, bringing you out of your daze and causing your previous hand motions to halt. Looking over, you feel panic wash over you as you see a text appear from another unknown number.
Breathing deeply, you swipe open your phone.
Unknown: So Penny may or may not have caved and gave me your number. dont hate me.
A pause, and then another text comes through:
Unknown: its bradley.
You heave a massive sigh of relief and the panic is replaced by tiny butterflies in your stomach. Damn you, Penny. After saving his number, you quickly respond.
You: Hmmm bradley? doesnt ring a bell
Bradley: 😢 i should've known a girl like you was out of my league
You: Are you hitting on me again?
Bradley: depends...is it working?
You laugh, picturing him with a smirk on his face and nervously running his hand through his hair.
You contemplate a response, nervous to say the wrong thing, and still confused about what you felt for him.
He was kind, for some reason truly cared about you, and probably the sexiest man you had ever met.
Fuck it.
You: surprisingly yes.
Bradley: i knew it. what time does your shift start?
You: 8
Bradley: pick you up in 20? i know an awesome diner.
Your heart thuds against your chest. Were you doing this? Biting your lip, you agree before you can change your mind.
You: dont be late bradshaw
You text him your address and throw yourself back against your pillows..
"Jesus christ."
––
Exactly 20 minutes later, Bradley's Bronco pulls into the driveway. Your heart thuds against your chest as you watch him from your place in the kitchen. He's wearing another open Hawaiian shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and a pair of faded jeans. His aviators reflect the sun as he makes the short walk towards the front door.
Hearing the doorbell, you make your way over, opening it with a shy smile.
"Hi," he smiles.
"Hey," you reply, turning to lock the door behind you before turning to follow him towards the car. "I'm glad you texted me." You say genuinely.
His mouth pulls up to one side in a lopsided smile as he opens your car door for you, "Me too."
"So where are we going?" You ask once he joins you in the car. Your heart skips a beat when his hand reaches to grab the back of your seat as he turns to look out the rearview. You feel the car roll in reverse down the driveway.
You could smell his cologne, woodsy and warm. Being so close to him made you downright dizzy.
"Well," he says, concentrating on maneuvering the car in reverse, "I really hope you like milkshakes."
You nod with a laugh, "Obviously."
"Good," he replies, straightening the car out and putting it in drive, looking over at you with another smile, "Because this might be the best one you ever have."
–––
"Well shit." You say after the first sip of your chocolate milkshake. It honestly was the best one you'd ever tasted.
"Right?" He responds with an I told you so expression gracing his face.
"I'll give you this one. This is insane," You point to the perfect milkshake in front of you.
He shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head before gazing at you again.
His stare makes you flush as you reach for your straw, needing something to fiddle with. "So, um, did you have the day off?" You ask, curious why he was suddenly freed up on a week day.
"Yeah," he replies, pausing to take a sip of his milkshake and you watch his lips wrap around the straw. "My jet had a technical issue and we needed to rush it to the mechanics to get it all sorted. Cut my day short, but can't say I'm too upset about it." He winks.
"Stop hitting on me." You half joke.
"You're making that mighty hard to do." He says softly.
If you were flushed before, you were beet red now. "Thank you, by the way. For last night." You say, wanting to clear the air.
Bradley nods attentively, his face completely neutral. "Of course. I meant what I said."
You nod, looking down. "It's obviously, not really something that's easy to talk about."
You look around self consciously. The tiny diner Bradley had chosen was almost completely empty. Pictures adorned the walls and a jukebox softly played "Don't Be Cruel." You adjust your legs on the leather booth.
You check his expression again, his brow furrowing and his hand extends towards yours, palm facing up.
You look down at his hand before placing your’s on top of his. A spark jolts up your arm at the contact. His palm was calloused but somehow soft, warm to the touch, and you couldn't help but notice how perfectly your hand fit in his.
Sighing, you look into his eyes again. "Bradley I don't want to bring you down with me." You say honestly.
He frowns, cocking his head to this side, "What do you mean?"
"It's just that I come with a lot of...baggage. Grant, my ex, he's not a good man." You say, finally admitting this out loud. Not just to Bradley, but finally to yourself. "I have a lot of shit I need to work through and your job is stressful enough. You don't need to add me to your list of things to worry about."
"Hey, hey," he says softly, his thumb rubbing over the top of your hand, "Don't say that. You're not just a thing to worry about. I know we haven't known each other long. As cliché as this sounds, I just really want to get to know you. Please don't shut me out."
Tears prickle in your eyes and you attempt to blink them away. No one had ever shown this much compassion towards you. Over the years, Grant had isolated you from your closest friends and remaining family. For so long, you were on an island by yourself.
"We'll take it slow, yeah?" He checks again a small smile on his face. "This," he motions between the two of you, "Moves at your pace."
Who was this man and how on earth did you find him?
“I’d really like that.”
——————————————————————————-
We’re giving Bradley a shot!! This one was cute and fluffy…next chapter is when the #drama will start. 😈
Part 4.
Taglist:
@rosiahills22
@m3laniehearts
@savannahcole99
@emma8895eb
@atarmychick0077
@galaxy-moon
@5ugarcan3
@luckyladycreator2
#rooster bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw smut#rooster bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x y/n
306 notes
·
View notes
Note
FF and ITMF sometimes tear my soul apart because I KNOW I have read some of the fics being looked for but I just can’t find them in my ao3 history. Does anyone know how to do a better google search using keywords to find fics on ao3??
I know! I always see a summary of a fic in an ask and go "I've read that!" But can never remember the name 😂
I don't know about anyone else but I usually use the AO3 search along with Google if that doesn't work. My way is pretty haphazard as I just put in all sorts of things relating to the words in the ask lol which doesn't always work, anyone have a much better way? 😅
- Mod C
---
jcbmcdrmtt said: A google search like “keywords site:archiveofourown.org” will search for fics on AO3 only, if that’s what OP was asking? But this is getting less and less useful as more authors lock their fics to logged in users only to prevent AI scraping and abusive comments; google won’t show you those fics if it indexed/updated them after they were locked :/
gloriousclotpole said: You can search google like site:archiveofourown.org “keyword” “keyword” “verbatim phrase” and it will turn up specific fics which contain all the words in the “”
* Note that the google search I outlined treats chapters of fics as separate web pages, so try to use keywords that all come from one chapter or you might accidentally exclude results that you want! For example, if you include keywords from the start of the story and from the end you might exclude both chapters from your search because both keywords don’t show up in a single chap. TLDR choose keywords from a specific scene contained in a single chapter if you can.
evadingreallife said: I have struck gold many many many times on ao3 typing anything i wanted to find in the "search within results" search bar at the bottom of the filters menu. Especially when i dont remember the specific tag or i remember half a phrase of the summary or a certain word etc. Or if i want anything that mentions for example space and not just the "space au" tag etc
44 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
captainswanoutlawqueen
CaptainSwan OutlawQueen
finprovdigitalmarketingcourse
Untitled
atexshop1
Atex Shop