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eightmakesonebraincell · 2 months

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ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for hongjoong), fluff, angst, crack, and as always - a brainrot of every pirate trope to exist

length: 10.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, ransoming, verbal abuse, abduction), alcohol, pet names

a/n: maknae line will come yes but who knows when 🤷‍♀️ work has been really testing my dopamine vibes this year 😔👎 thank you @sorryimananti-romantic for keeping a detailed hitlist for me ♡

hongjoong

pov: you're a royal princess rescued by him

“captain, are you sure we can’t toss her overboard?”

jongho and hongjoong watch as wooyoung’s face falls after you pointedly ignore his attempts to make conversation once again

for someone who is technically their guest aboard the arriba, it seems as though you are hellbent on being as difficult as you can be

“unfortunately, we can’t,” hongjoong grouches to the younger, “not unless we want to exchange our payment for a hefty bounty on our own heads”

when jongho sighs, the captain squeezes his shoulder in comfort and adds on, “trust me, i’ve thought about it too”

hongjoong and his crew are privateers - pirates in theory, but technically excused so long as they have their letter of marque to state that they are authorised to attack other vessels

rescuing a royal princess was never explicitly part of the contract, although he thinks that not rescuing you would have pretty much been equivalent to a blatant show of insubordination

you had been taken ransom by one of the merchant ships the arriba had been plundering

needless to say, they had been close to tossing you overboard too; your kingdom had never paid for your ransom

the lack of response from your parents wasn’t anything you weren’t expecting but it’s a sore spot nonetheless

so it’s certainly hard for you to play friendly when you’re quite literally shucked off from stranger to stranger faster than a hot potato

san tugs wooyoung closer towards him and gently says to you, “he’s just trying to be nice - we all are”

the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“i don’t need your pity,” you answer, the only sentence you have spoken today

you’ve lived two decades of your life pretending you don’t see the pitying gazes of your maids and butlers

you certainly don’t need pity from these people - pirates no less

“it’s not-” wooyoung starts to say

but the captain steps in before he can defend himself

“if this is how you’re always acting, i’m starting to see why your kingdom never paid for your ransom”

had hongjoong been less preoccupied by your words, he would have realised that your tone is candid, as if it is only natural for the people around you to pity you

but he’s clouded with his mindset as captain, unable to stand by idly while his own crew put up with your attitude, and so the words come out anyway - shards of shrapnel that bury themselves into your heart

there is only a fleeting second when your eyes dilate with hurt

you conceal it immediately, replacing it with a steely gaze, yet the image has already seared itself into hongjoong’s mind

“maybe you should throw me overboard, then,” you counter, “i’m sure my family will thank you for it”

and even if you have completely neutralised your expression, no one misses the wounded tone of your voice before you disappear down into the lower deck

mingi lets out a low whistle after the resounding slam of the hatch closing

“you fucked up, captain”

hongjoong doesn’t need anyone to spell it out for him

the heavy feeling in his stomach is telling enough

it isn’t until the moon has long since risen that you emerge through the hatch again

you had bypassed the sleeping quarters to the hold, wedging yourself between barrels of grain until you were sure no one would find you

not that they would have tried to anyway - seonghwa had told them all to give you some space

you had run your finger up and down the sides of the barrels repetitively for hours on end, mind simultaneously void and filled with thoughts

the walls you had built around yourself kept you safe, but it had started to become awfully lonely after a while

when it had become a little too suffocating in the hold and you guessed that most of the crew was asleep, you had softly padded back up the stairs and across the main deck

you now sit on the foredeck where the endless expanse of the sea stretches out in front of you, closing your eyes and letting the swaying of the ship lull you into tranquillity

tonight, the moon winks down fondly upon the waters

hongjoong watches you from the quarterdeck

he’s seen you sit at the front of the ship on many nights when you should really have been asleep

he wonders if you’ve always looked so small and fragile with your knees drawn up to your chest, or whether it’s because the flash of hurt in your eyes and voice is still fresh in his mind

“go, captain,” yunho murmurs from where he’s at the helm, “it’s a quiet night”

hongjoong startles at having been caught gazing, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away

“why should i, if she’s just going to ignore me?” he scoffs

but he knows he’s just being petty at this point and his chest churns in agreement

“maybe,” yunho hums softly in response. “did seonghwa ever give up on you, though?”

it’s rhetorical - hongjoong knows the answer better than anyone

the captain doesn’t say anything but after several beats of silence, he sighs and makes a move to the foredeck where you are

yunho smiles to himself

you and hongjoong may be more similar than his captain realises

your shoulders stiffen when the sound of hongjoong’s footsteps approaches

you’re not sure what to expect and you don’t exactly want to find out and risk getting hurt

but having spent all day swimming alone in your thoughts, you do want to show that you feel apologetic because admittedly, you were being an ass too

getting up to walk away when he’s taken the first step certainly won’t help your case

you hold your breath in awkward silence as he settles down beside you, leaving a respectable distance between your hunched figures

only now is hongjoong realising that he hasn’t actually thought about or decided on what he wants to say to you

but he can feel the confusion rolling off of you in waves, so he grits his teeth and says fuck it

“i won’t apologise for defending my crew, but i’m sorry for how i did it and for what i said”

he hopes you know he is sincere when he continues, “we all have our prickly edges. i can’t fault you for yours”

compassion is a foreign concept to you and so you’re a little stumped for words

hongjoong isn’t sure whether your silence is a good or bad thing, but you have yet to stand up and walk away from the conversation

“there’s only about a week left until we reach port and we’ll leave after you make it back to your kingdom and we receive our payment. i’m not asking for you to be friendly, but let’s at least be civil with each other until then,” he says

you want to nod, agree, anything

and yet you can’t seem to make your head move or the words to come out of your mouth

rome was not built in a day. but neither did its walls fall in a day

hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer when instead, you ask, “how many people have you actually tossed overboard before?”

he resists the urge to laugh at your question, suddenly endeared by the fact that you’re still bothered by his very empty threat

“none, but my offer still stands. you’re welcome to be my first,” he deadpans

you let out a snort and although you quickly turn your head away, hongjoong sees the hint of amusement in your eyes

no further words are exchanged between the two of you and you do not acknowledge him when he eventually stands to rejoin yunho at the helm

but it’s a start

and as with any relationship, be it friend, foe, or lover, there is always that

a beginning.

hongjoong isn’t really expecting much to change immediately so he doesn’t pay you much mind when you walk into the mess hall the following morning

you hesitate at the entrance when you see most of the crew are already present, the conversation you had with hongjoong last night replaying at the forefront of your mind

you chew on the inside of your mouth

wooyoung stops mid-conversation at the scrape of a plate on the table, looking up to find you sliding into the seat beside him with a tight-lipped smile

to your surprise, he greets you with enthusiasm and immediately drags you into the conversation

hongjoong watches as you slowly warm up and add one or two comments of your own in between bites of your hardtack

and when he catches your gaze after staring for too long, he gives you a smile to convey his appreciation; to acknowledge your efforts

you return it with a small smile of your own and unbeknownst to you, it stays on your face for the rest of the day

slowly, there become more and more reasons that elicit a smile out of you

you still sit out on the foredeck when everyone else has gone to sleep, but on most nights, hongjoong will join you even if just for a while

the two of you are content to sit side by side with nothing but the steady pulse of the ocean and intermittent creaks of the ship’s hull to break the silence of the night

tonight though, you find curiosity burning through you

“what’s it like?” you ask

“being a pirate?” he clarifies

you shrug vaguely, unsure yourself either, “being a pirate. being at sea. sailing with your crew”

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because there is too much he wants to say

when hongjoong answers, his voice rumbles softly from within his chest, tender and heartfelt

“there’s a sense of freedom that you can’t obtain when you’re bound to land and society. sailing the waters, the only limits are those of the open seas and of your own compass… the sunrises, the storms, the moonlight - it all becomes part of your home”

hongjoong leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, tilting his gaze up towards the twinkling sky

he reflects, “you experience brotherhood and gain a family that is worth multitudes more than the treasures you can accumulate, even if you were to live as a pirate for several lifetimes”

you’re enraptured by his words, like poetry that swirls off the pages of a book and drifts into your very soul

“i may be the captain of this crew, but they make me who i am. without them, i am nothing”

his words wash over you and unearth vivid memories

“that’s what the queen always says to me,” you reveal

a small smile starts to grace hongjoong’s face, but it falls just as quickly when he hears your next words

“that without her - without her title - i am nothing”

it’s funny, how the same phrase can hold such different meanings; can evoke such different emotions

you don’t elaborate any further, but hongjoong doesn’t think he needs you to in order for him to understand

he just wishes he had more time to show you that your mother is wrong

he can’t though

tomorrow they reach port and you will return to your rightful place in the palace

“tell me more about your crew,” you attempt to change the topic, “how did you all find each other?”

so hongjoong tells you

he talks for hours and hours and you listen all the while with a heavy heart, clinging onto his every word

on your final night, you two stay like that until the stars disappear and the horizon becomes streaked with the pale hues of sunrise

after the ship docks mere hours later, only hongjoong accompanies you to your kingdom after goodbyes are exchanged

wooyoung doesn’t take it well, and you find yourself holding back tears of your own as you are let through the palace doors with the captain by your side

but you blink them away when you approach the throne room because vulnerability is not an emotion you are willing to display

“y/n”

the queen addresses you curtly when you enter, and hongjoong wonders for a split second whether he has brought you back to the wrong kingdom

he knows your mother does not treat you fondly, but it’s still staggering to see it before his very own eyes

the monarch glances distastefully over him before her eyes flicker back to you

“i did not expect your return,” she states

your eyes remain impassive as you merely answer, “neither am i delighted to be back”

hongjoong recognises this look

he’s seen it when you first boarded his ship; he’s seen it when your hackles were raised

he’s seen it in himself, when he had been a teenager filled with nothing but growing resentment, before he had met seonghwa

your mother sneers, “then you should have made yourself useful and stayed with the pirates. as a whore or a dog, whatever it took.”

hongjoong has understood you since learning of your demons, but right now, he is you

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, standing before a couple who are his parents only by title

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, who doesn’t know what he has done that deems him undeserving of love

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, all alone with no one to take his hand

“or really, you should have died on the ship”

hongjoong is close enough to you to hear the small hitch in your breath at your mother’s final jab

he may not have had someone to save his younger self, but he can do that now

he can be the person he so desperately needed years ago

and so he does just that.

hongjoong grabs your hand and drags you out of the palace

no one stops the two of you from leaving and he is unsure whether his heart hurts for you or sings with relief

you can only stutter in shock as you try to keep up, “hongjoong, what about your payment?”

his determined steps do not slow down, even as he looks back at you with a sure smile, “i told you before. some things are worth more than money”

the comforting squeeze of his hand conveys that you are worth more than any amount of money

the form of the arriba grows bigger in the distance and you think you can see the movement of excitement on deck when the crew spots your figures

hongjoong has slowed down his steps, but he has yet to let go of your hand

“and you deserve to know that. welcome to the crew, y/n”

to a family and love that you never had

you think you like the sound of that

“thank you, captain”

seonghwa

pov: you're a royal navy officer in disguise

you lay awake in your hammock, listening to the soft snores of the crew members around you

sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore

particularly tonight

you contemplate whether it’s worth the risk to simply not show up

you know what the consequences are if they capture you - a slow and painful death - but you’re unsure whether you want to put ateez on the line too

your ship is currently docked for the night, having made a port stop at alcarres following one of the crew’s wishes to retire the pirate lifestyle and settle in the small town

their last night with ateez had been celebrated with sloshing rum and rowdy jigs, something you had found strange

there’s none of that in the royal navy

when one leaves, it is shameful and through one of three options only; old age, crippling injury, or…death

you had asked seonghwa, the quartermaster, why he and the captain were so accepting when crew members left as they wished

he had simply smiled and answered, “better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew”

his words are like a sharp stone in your shoe as you finally slip out of your hammock and make your way off the ship

as ordered, you head to the tavern addressed

you salute the person in front of you and ease into your seat with a formality only when he disregards you

“admiral jang”

“you’re late,” the royal navy officer raises an eyebrow

“sorry, sir. i had to make sure everyone was asleep”

it’s not exactly the truth, but no one needs to know that you had spent an hour in your hammock questioning your morality

he ignores your excuse, jesting as he asks of your captain, “has the pirate king found the chart’s whereabouts yet?”

the charts

centuries ago, a crew of experienced sailors had travelled the six great seas and created the original navigational charts

the charts had become scattered and lost over time, but its value only increased exponentially as more and more sailors became victims to the sea trying to map its waters to the same detail and accuracy as the original charts

of the six originals, only the whereabouts of five are known, with most of them within the possession of the royal navy

it’s rumoured that hongjoong - the pirate king - has his hands on two of them and is currently tracking down the lost chart of the aurorian sea

the only sea that has yet to be chartered after its original map due to its dangerous and unpredictable sailing conditions

you know that your next words can hold an inexplicable amount of possibilities

“not yet. the last lead didn’t get him anywhere. turned out the last of the ahn clan had passed a decade ago”

his lips flatten at the lack of worthwhile information

“where’s the captain headed to next, then?” he probes

for a split second, the thought of lying crosses your mind

you can’t provide a different location - it would be much too obvious and would raise immediate suspicions

but you could give him a different time frame

after all, it’s not uncommon for navigational routes to be one to two weeks off should the waters be unpredictable enough

you find the truth spilling out of you anyway once you’re looking into his stone-cold eyes

“vlasgar. in about three weeks’ time”

for a moment, time stands still as your heart pounds and you attempt to slow your breathing, the officer staring back at you calculatingly

then he finally hums in satisfaction

you think that he is going to dismiss you, but as you make a move to leave, he leans back in his seat

the split second of hesitation was enough

“remember where your loyalty lies, y/n”

the air feels cold with the underlying threat

seonghwa’s words flit through your mind

better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew

you swallow, “of course, admiral”

and then you’re dismissed with a nod

the unsettling feeling follows you all the way back to the ship and every miniscule creak of the floorboards underneath you seems to be amplified in the silence

you let out a short gasp of surprise when you’re about to climb back into your hammock, only to see seonghwa blinking blearily at you

“couldn’t sleep ‘gain?” he mumbles

you choke out a response, “yeah”

“i’ll make you tea b’fore you sleep ‘morrow,” his words slur with sleepiness

“okay,” you whisper

but you know it won’t make a difference

after all, there’s no remedy for guilt

it continues to fester the next day, as you linger outside the captain’s quarters

you can’t remember why you had come down to the lower deck, but it doesn’t matter now, not with seonghwa and the captain discussing what you think is related to the aurorian chart

“do you think he’s still in vlasgar?”

“min taesoo? it’s hard to say. but i’m sure he’ll have acquaintances still on the island who may have an idea of where he’s gone”

min taesoo

your brain tries to carefully file the name away, knowing that it’s what admiral jang would want to know, but at the same time, your heart tries to pretend it doesn’t know what you have heard so that you can forget about it

you find yourself scratching the name onto a scrap of paper anyway

unbeknownst to you, at the almost-imperceivable sound of your footsteps walking away, the two men behind the doors share a look

the crew sets sail again in the afternoon towards the next destination - vlasgar - and the scrap of paper in your pocket weighs you down so heavily that you feel off-kilter as you absentmindedly follow jongho up into the rigging to unfurl the sails

you’re near the top of the ropes when a sudden wave lurches the boat to starboard

it’s only a small push, really, but with your mind elsewhere, it catches you off guard and you miss your next step

the feeling of your hand dislodging from the sudden drag of your body weight brings you back to the present with a yell of surprise

(whether it’s your own or jongho’s, you can’t remember)

your sailing experience takes over and you try to swing your body back towards the safety of the rigging

you barely manage to grasp the ropes again but your hands slip down with your weight until they hit the next knot, the hot rush of friction threatening your grip

with adrenaline rushing through your body, you shakily climb back down, where there are several pairs of hands waiting to help you down the rest of the rigging

seonghwa’s hands do not leave you even after your feet are planted on the deck again

dread and shame heat the back of your neck and curl around onto your cheeks, knowing that a mistake like the one you had just made - accidental or not - would lead to a punishment like confinement in the lower deck back in the royal navy

except, when an apology starts to form on your lips, seonghwa bursts out in dismay

“y/n, your hands!”

you let out an unintelligible noise as seonghwa gently turns your palms over and you realise that the ropes have grazed some of the skin off

“it’s fine,” you want to say

but you’re silenced when he leads you to the small sick bay on the orlop deck

even if there is no surgeon on board, there is a small chest fastened to the wall that is home to their few and valuable medical supplies

you sit as he fusses over you with alcohol and strips of cloth

although he does a good job of wrapping your hands, your insides start to bleed with how intensely guilt eats away at you, like a maggot deep inside the core of a festering apple

that night as you shuffle towards your hammock to sleep, you flinch when you find seonghwa already sitting in his

he’s fighting the heaviness in his eyes as he carefully cradles something

upon seeing you, he wordlessly hands it to you with a sleepy smile before he finally sags into his own hammock with a content sigh

you look down and the warmth of it seems to burn through the padded dressing that the man before you has tenderly wrapped around your palms

the sensation travels upwards to burn your heart too

because in your hands is a cup of warm chamomile tea

and yet, despite the emptied cup, you find yourself unable to fall asleep

but in the darkness of the sky, with no witnesses other than the waves and sea foam themselves, a small piece of crumpled paper gets tossed overboard that night

the closer their ship approaches vlasgar, the more distant seonghwa notices you become

he worries

seonghwa thinks he worries for the reasons that he should be

he is the quartermaster; entrusted to protect the crew as the captain’s right-hand man

if that means ensuring no one will compromise the rest of his crew, even if it’s you, then so be it

that’s what he justifies to himself as he walks through the cobbled streets of vlasgar, slinking through the shadows as he follows your figure from a safe distance

(in reality, seonghwa worries for the reasons that he is not quite ready to admit yet)

he follows you into the dim bar of a tavern and carefully situates himself where he can watch over you without being discovered

he orders a mug of common ale as you approach someone

the man is dressed in civilian attire, but seonghwa can tell straight away from his demeanour and expression that he is not as ordinary as he appears

it’s confirmed when he hears you say, “admiral jang”

and then he sees it

the small but striking lapel pin on the breast of the man’s coat - the royal navy’s insignia

seonghwa feels for the sash that’s hidden underneath his own jacket and his fingertips meet the cool metal of the pistol tied inside

“you better have updates for me, y/n. what’s the pirate king’s purpose here in vlasgar?”

seonghwa knows he only has about five seconds to make a decision - one that could jeopardise the crew, or one that could jeopardise you

but you surprise yourself and the both of them when you answer steadfastly, “i don’t know, sir”

despite the din of drunker patrons in the tavern, it seems to fall deathly silent

“am i hearing wrong, officer?” the admiral questions with a disbelieving scoff

to your credit, your voice does not waver when you state again, “no, sir. i believe the captain and quartermaster are lying low. they have not revealed anything to me nor the rest of the crew”

seonghwa suddenly understands why you have distanced yourself

the admiral’s jaw tics

“is that so.”

you do not respond, only focusing on the spot between his raised eyebrows as he leans forward across the table

“where does your loyalty lie, y/n?”

neither the admiral nor seonghwa need to hear your answer to know the truth

a small crew may be outnumbered, but they have strength in loyalty and devotion

there’s a glint of movement from underneath the table as the admiral inches something out from his belt

seonghwa makes his decision

you flinch, eyes wide as there’s a deafening gunshot and the table beside you splinters and scatters the tankards of alcohol onto the floor

instantaneously, chaos erupts

there are drunken yells of fright and weapons clumsily brandished, tables upturned and chairs hurled across the room

it only takes one other misfired shot for the tavern to descend into hellfire as customers who were previously drinking together now turn on one another

nobody notices the two pirates dashing out, not even admiral jang, who is busy wrangling two inebriated men off his arms

your composure dissolves the moment you are dragged into an alleyway several streets away and you look up in shock to discover-

“seonghwa?! why are you here?”

“i could say the same about you,” he counters, hardly out of breath

you’re stunned by the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the mess that he has just dragged you out of

something clicks

“was that you? did you know all along?”

seonghwa smiles, “let’s just say you’re not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak around. plus, it’s uncommon for sailors to have the experience that you do without having had some sort of training”

you curse under your breath and wince, “does hongjoong know too?”

the quartermaster nods and you fear the answer to your next question

“then why has he not…why have you not…”

“killed you yet?” seonghwa chuckles. “i’m sure you’ve realised by now how skewed the royal navy’s beliefs are”

you’re quiet

the royal navy has always been cult-like in preaching the ruthlessness and barbarism of pirates, drilling into the officers the belief that pirates are the scum of the sea

but everything that you’ve known has been proven false since you’ve joined ateez; ironically, the pirates are more humane than the royal navy themself

their crew stand at attention whenever hongjoong or seonghwa walk onto the deck - not out of cultivated fear but genuine respect

when jongho is sore and tired from handling the riggings on a particularly rough and windy day, the others will offer to cover for his chores instead of flogging him into submission

and when mingi is divvying up the shares of the provisions and loot, the others will slip an extra bar of soap for seonghwa, the shiniest ring for mingi, or the largest bottle of rum for yunho, because they want to make each other happy

“hongjoong is the pirate king, yes, but a king should not take the lives of others for his own power. a true king uses his power to change the lives of others for the better…like yours…and like mine”

you frown with a jerk of your head

“what do you mean?”

you can’t see seonghwa as a broken man whatsoever

he gives you a weak smile, “i, too, used to be part of the royal navy”

your jaw drops

everything clicks into place - how he had figured out you weren’t just a common sailor and why he hadn’t confronted you about it

the shame and guilt come rushing back over you in a storm that is much too familiar by now

“i’m so sorry, all i’ve done is betray your trust-”

“but that’s what second chances are for, no?” seonghwa cuts you off, playfully flicking your forehead as he reminds you, “and i’m pretty sure you’ve chosen me over the royal navy”

your cheeks grow hot

“not you. the crew,” you mutter

he laughs and it’s a wonderful sound

“come on, it’s late,” seonghwa beckons. “let’s get some sleep”

when he sees that you’re still rooted to the spot, unsure whether you are deserving to go back, he decides for you and moves behind you to gently nudge you forward by the shoulders

you let him guide you

his hands are warm, you note, even through the linen of your shirt

his hands are also pretty, you observe, when he tries to fluff your hammock once you two have crept your way back to the berth

seonghwa helps you up into the hammock and you watch as he climbs into his

his hands are also teeming with love, you realise, when he wordlessly extends his arm nearest to you in a silent invitation

if you both reach out, you can just entwine your hands together from your respective hammocks

the burns on your palms have healed nicely and without the need for them to be wrapped, you can feel every expanse of his hand covering yours

he doesn’t retract his hand and neither do you, even though it’s not the most comfortable position and you both lose feeling of your arms soon after

but you lay in your hammock, drifting to the soft snores of the crew members around you and the soft tug of seonghwa’s fingers in yours

sleep comes easy to you

particularly tonight

as it will for the rest of your life

yunho

pov: you're the crew's navigator

you know it’s going to happen even before it actually does

you can feel it in the air and from the way the baby hairs around your hairline start to frizz

but you never say anything because you wouldn’t trade it for the moment when the first raindrop hits the back of yunho’s neck and he abandons his duty at the helm to drag you out onto the upper deck

(hongjoong only sighs in defeat before he stations himself at the helm instead)

you don’t like the rain

not like yunho does

you are already looking up from the map spread out in the captain’s quarters, a knowing smile on your face just from the sound of his bounding footsteps alerting you of his presence, when yunho appears with the beckon of rain

you pretend to let yourself be dragged to your feet along to his urges of come on!

but then you dash forward towards the hatch with yunho chasing after your bright laughter

in the short span of time that it has taken him to fetch you, the sprinkle of rain has steadily grown and the weathered planks of the deck are already a dark grey

you feel the coldness of the raindrops hitting the crown of your head and the spreading chill as your clothes start to become damp

but that’s not what makes you feel alive

yunho catches up to you easily and then he is snaking his arms around your waist to lift you up into the air

you barely have time to squeal and steady yourself on his broad shoulders before he is spinning the two of you around, the world blurring away as the spotlight shines on him and he is all that you can see

the deck is your stage and the sea is your audience

rain with yunho is twirling hugs, tiptoed kisses and tinkling laughter. it’s soaked shirts and rosy cheeks and the only thing that matters in the moment

you don’t like the rain, but it’s easy to like the rain when it’s with him

(hongjoong lets the two of you be - so obviously and hopelessly enamoured by each other - because when one sees people in love, one cannot help but watch and smile)

the rain eventually peters out and you and yunho must return to your respective duties, but not until you two have changed out of your drenched clothes and sneaked in a few more kisses

a few hours later, you hear the racket above the deck as a ship pulls up beside the arriba and ropes are thrown across from both sides to lash the vessels close together

hongjoong comes down to join you in his quarters, but he’s not alone

behind him is the captain of the silver light, dae jihoo, and his quartermaster, with seonghwa entering last

you note that this crew doesn’t have a navigator of their own

but you suppose that’s one of the reasons why their captain had implored an alliance for this particular raid

the crew of the silver light are wanting to target the prosperity triangle - an area between three large ports that is frequently trafficked by wealthy vessels transporting valuable goods

it’s a raid that would prove difficult for a smaller pirate crew like your own and the silver light, and especially if they have no navigator

but it’s not uncommon for pirates to form temporary alliances for such purposes, and together, your crews have a good chance of plundering a fortune

you nod your head in acknowledgement when hongjoong introduces you to the two pirates as ateez’s navigator

you don’t miss the way jihoo’s eyes seem to linger on you for a second too long before he flashes a crooked grin and gestures towards the navigational map spread out on the oak table

clearing your throat of discomfort, you step forward and flatten the creases out with your hands

“this is the most open spot within the triangle that the vessel we’re after will pass through,” you tap an annotated spot on the chart, “and this is where we are now”

you slide your finger across, “we’ll follow the rhumb line west to avoid the shallower waters and when we can catch the trade winds, it should be smooth sailing from there”

jihoo challenges you, “how can you be sure we’ll catch the ship within the triangle?”

“they’ll need to sail past the equator and i’m almost certain their ship will be slowed down by the doldrums. we can easily gain knots on them”

he squints at the scribbles you’ve made noting down what you’ve gathered of the wind patterns

you know for a fact that it will mean nothing to him, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because jihoo appears to make up his mind

“when do we set sail?” he directs his question to your captain

“three days from now”

he grunts a noise of affirmation and stands, which hongjoong takes as the cue to see them and the rest of their crew off your ship

you trail behind the group as you all head back to the upper deck

you prepare to emerge from the hatch with a playful wink, knowing that yunho will be craning his neck from the helm to get a glimpse of you, when a sudden holler surprises you out of your thoughts

it’s immediately met with the answering cries of several other pirates - none from your crew - and you hurry to clear the hatch to gain your bearings

you’re thrust right into the throes of battle as ateez are forced to unsheathe their cutlasses to defend against silver light’s sudden attack

having been caught off guard, basically none of your firearms are loaded with gunpowder, rendering them unusable

you will have to make do with the short sabre at your waist

there’s no time to account for the whereabouts and safety of your crew members and you just have to pray that you all make it out of this unscathed

especially yunho

but as ateez retaliate, you all notice something is off about the situation

your crew is very quickly overpowering the other pirates - it was a losing fight for them from the very beginning

it makes no sense to you nor the rest of your crew

the losses of breaking the alliance before the planned raid, much less through betrayal, far outweigh any gains they could possibly make from their choice of action

it makes absolutely no sense

until it does.

you are blocking the swing of a sabre with your own when you are tugged backwards harshly by the collar of your shirt

there’s an angry snarl in your throat as you prepare to turn around, but it’s quickly silenced by the warning shot of a pistol right beside your ear

the cold ring of metal is then pressed to the back of your head

you know that firearms require time to reload and there’s a chance that this pistol is now useless

but, like wooyoung has taught the rest of the crew to do, they may have pre-prepared several pistols and you are not willing to play with fire - especially when you are only the flex of a finger away from death

you vaguely hear someone yell out your name in panic, but you’re not quite sure you hear correctly over the clamour of cutlasses clashing, warcries resounding and your own heartbeat pounding

“stand down or your navigator dies,” the voice behind you thunders

it’s jihoo…and he wants a navigator for his crew

“ateez,” one of your men commands, “lower your weapons”

your crew may make decisions fairly, but in battle, only hongjoong has the power to make commands

yunho has never spoken against his captain or disobeyed orders

until now

the words do not come out of your captain’s mouth but yunho’s

the rest of the members hesitate - they will not stand down unless hongjoong commands them to, yet, they are unsure whether they will be able to follow should he demand them to fight on, even if it means endangering your life

but there is no guarantee jihoo will let your crew go unharmed even after you all surrender, and as the captain, hongjoong must make decisions in the best interest for the crew

“captain!” yunho yells desperately

yunho never yells

“stand down,” hongjoong commands

silver light’s captain steps in closer behind you until you can hear and feel the noise of intriguement that leaves his mouth down the back of your neck

“that your loverboy, hmm?”

he smirks

there’s a false moment of primal relief when the press of the pistol is removed from the back of your head, but it is immediately replaced with fear that is irrevocably worse as he aims it in yunho’s direction and shoots

“no!”

you shriek and pull against the tug of his hold, still fisted around your collar, your pupils blown wide with terror at the sight of the clean hole in the mast right beside yunho’s head

“it’ll be pretty boy’s head next if you don’t come with me,” jihoo coos into your ear

the fight slips out of you immediately

because if you can save him, a life for a life, then you will

even if the sight of mingi holding yunho back from lunging forward when the pistol’s barrel returns to your head makes your heart clench painfully

“y/n, don’t you dare,” yunho pleads, voice filled with anguish

you’re barely given enough time to lock eyes with him and say resolutely, “remember what you said to me,” before you are tugged away to the boarding plank

ateez can only watch helplessly as the planks are removed from over the bulwarks and the last of the ropes are untied, releasing the silver light from their ship for good

jihoo tugs you down the hatch as the ship starts to pull away, and just like that, you’re gone from their sights

“fuck!” yunho shouts furiously, unable to contain his emotions as he turns around and connects his fist with the mast

right where the musket ball had made a hole

his hand pulls away with bloodied knuckles from the splintered wood and the sheer force of his punch

a concerned whine leaves seonghwa’s mouth and he tries to approach the taller, but yunho shakes him off and looks determinedly at hongjoong

“we’re sailing to the banver isle just east of the triangle. we’ll ambush them there”

seonghwa looks between the two, hope flickering in his chest at the potential plan, “you think the silver light are stupid enough to try taking on the prosperity triangle alone?”

yunho chuckles darkly, “they were fucking shitbrained enough to take y/n, so yes”

nobody disagrees and hongjoong smirks dangerously

“ateez, ready the sails for banver isle,” he commands. “prepare for battle”

because not only have the silver light taken you away from ateez, but they have also annihilated the light from yunho’s eyes

gone are his warm brown orbs - they are now black holes thirsty for retribution

there will be lives to pay and even that will not be enough for the void

unaware of what your crew is capable of, jihoo looks down at you with a triumphant leer

“you’ll navigate us to the triangle in three days’ time. don’t even think about lying - you’ve already shown me where the location is”

with an even nod you reply, “of course”

it’s true though - you have absolutely no intention of navigating them somewhere else

because you know yunho will be waiting there for you

amidst chaste kisses exchanged between plush lips cold from the rain, yunho tells you in a brief moment of seriousness

“don’t show them where the real location is,” his breath is warm across your cheeks. “you know the coastal island roughly ten nautical miles away? show them that instead”

you tilt your head to look up at him, “you think they’ll betray us?”

“no,” he reassures you with a deeper, slower kiss, “but we can never be too safe”

and even if your vessels miss each other this time, you have complete faith that yunho will sail to the very ends of the world just to find you

two days before the originally-planned raid, the arriba sails as closely to banver isle as possible without risking running aground

yunho has navigated the ship around the back of the isle so that the form of the rocky terrain conceals them from sight

once the anchor is lowered, the crew members use every ticking moment to make preparations

swords are sharpened and firearms cleaned

mingi distributes the gunpowder and ammunition, which is pre-loaded into muskets, pistols and swivel cannons ready to be engaged

the ship’s sails and riggings are checked and yeosang keeps a keen lookout in the crow’s nest

and it’s as if the world itself can sense the brewing storm that grows inside yunho

the sea is eerily still and silent, but the sky is an omen to something impending, its rolling clouds dark and angry with the threat of rain leering over the waters

yunho doesn’t actually like the rain

he only likes it because it’s with you

rain with you is barefoot dancing, breathless confessions and bashful giggles. it’s drenched locks and fluttering eyelashes and the only thing that exists in the moment

but as the profile of the silver light finally approaches the isle two days later, the heavens split open and you are not by his side

rain without you is falling pinpricks, frigid winds and flaunting mockery and yunho despises it with his entire being

at yeosang’s call of, “vessel approaching from starboard,” up in the lookout, yunho smothers the fervid desire to barrage the other ship with cannonballs like hail from hell; to unleash an inferno that blazes through their hull as he sadistically watches the crew jump for their lives

he stamps out the hunger to shoot the ones that make it into the sea, not to kill, only to maim and induce a long, painful struggle in the open waters until death becomes inevitable - until there is enough blood spilt that it becomes the only stench in the air that stretches across for miles

yunho leashes his monsters with an iron fist

because he will not do anything that could even remotely endanger your life

even if it means that he has to hold back - to sit and wait like prey instead of advancing on the other ship like a predator

at least not yet.

silver light do not know, but this is the calm before the storm

the heavens may be crying, the winds may be howling and the waters may be roiling

but this is nothing compared to yunho

yunho is a tempest of unparalleled rage and their ship is in the eye of his storm

as the bowsprit of the silver light starts to appear around the isle, the members ready their grappling hooks and yunho draws his cutlass with a menacing whisper of unsheathing metal

you are his treasure, and pirates never lose sight of their treasure

today…you return to him

yeosang

pov: you're a tavern keeper

watching the ale reach the brim of the tankard you are holding, you’re about to step away from the barrel when the voice of a patron sounds behind you

“‘scuse me, could i get a mint-”

you look up and turn around in confusion as their voice cuts off

only to have the question taken right from the tip of your own tongue as you’re met with the face of the person you had loved for years

the same person you have spent twice as long trying to forget

eyes searching each other’s in a surprised stupor, seeing kang yeosang standing right in front of you takes you back to those memories that you have tried to remember and simultaneously bury

it thrusts you headfirst into what used to be of your shared love - like the feathery remnants of a dream, so distant from the fingers of your consciousness, suddenly returning to vivid existence when you least expect it

“hey, mint leaf. i’m back”

yeosang at least has the perceptiveness to appear a little apologetic, immediately pulling you into a hug and pressing soft kisses against your hairline uncaring of the other people in the tavern

it’s been several weeks since you last saw him, and whilst he had warned you he would be gone for longer this time, you hadn’t expected it to mean two whole months

he’s a small merchant who also fishes along the coast to earn enough to make ends meets, so he’s often gone for a few days or a week or two

you knew what you were in for when you first made it official with him, but just because you become accustomed to something, doesn’t mean it gets any easier

and he’s never been gone for this long

something must have happened - something good - because he looks alive, cheeks glowing and eyes fiery

“i met the crew”

“the crew?” you ask, hands reaching for the bourbon to prepare him a drink as he lets himself behind the counter to stand beside you in your workspace

he nods excitedly, "wooyoung’s pirate crew, ateez"

you think you know where this is going to go and you hate that your stomach sinks at the thought of what your future may become, because yeosang looks so happy to tell you about this and a happy yeosang is all that you could ask for

“the captain offered me a position as their lookout”

you pick out your next words carefully as you hand him his finished drink - a mint julep with two sugar cubes, just the way he likes it

"aren't…isn't being a pirate dangerous?"

“not as dangerous as you might think, actually. they’ve been showing me the ropes the last couple of weeks and…and i think i want to join them. officially”

there it is

the forked end of the road

you wonder how far two people can keep walking with their hands intertwined before the distance becomes too great and they have to let go

his words become a little muddled when he goes on to tell you about how they divvied up their recent loot to include his share too

how he’s gained more money than he’s made from the last two years of working as a merchant and fisherman combined

if he joins his old friend and his crew, he could earn enough to buy his parents a proper house; earn enough to build you your very own tavern

you want to tell him that you don’t need the tavern, just him, but you also know just how important his family is to him

his filial desire to take care of his parents was one of the very reasons you fell in love with him in the first place

before you can say anything though, the tavern keeper is interrupting to let you know that your shift is over

yeosang immediately perks up and herds you out of the place, claiming that there is a new fishing spot he discovered that he has to show you

and so you sit while he rows his modest boat, only the splash of his oars disturbing the peaceful stillness that has settled over the waters as the sun dips below the horizon

the waning light casts a soft, warm glow over him, like a gentle kiss against his skin and birthmark

if angels graced the earth, there would be one sitting right in front of you

“i missed you, mint leaf,” he confesses, gaze shyly averted. “i thought about you when i was gone”

“did you think about showing me this place?” you feel a little breathless

he nods, “every single night”

and that’s enough for you

it feels like everything is okay again

it doesn’t matter if you’re standing at a forked road

you think that perhaps, for him, you can walk on an unpaved path - just so that you can keep holding his hand

“y/n”

yeosang’s voice is deep

the word sounds foreign to your own ears but you don’t dwell on it

(because if you do, you’ll wonder whether it’s because you’ve forgotten the sound of his voice or because you want to hear him calling you something else)

“what would you like to order?” you ask

(because it’s easier to pretend that he’s just another patron than to admit that he used to be all that you ever knew)

yeosang fumbles a little but then regains himself, “oh, um- just a mint julep, please”

you turn your back to him to prepare his drink, hands reaching for the barrels lined along the bottom shelves without needing to look

you’ve made this drink too many times to count

half of those times were in the safety of the darkness that midnight offered; when the tears could flow freely without anyone seeing

it’s only when you start to mix his cocktail that yeosang realises he didn’t ask for his sugar cubes, but he figures the drink will taste bitter tonight either way so he opts to watch you instead

he wishes that he could walk past the counter like he used to and wrap his arms around you

he wishes that he could whisper endearments into your ears and press them against your lips

he wishes that he could show you that he still loves you

“do you still love me?” your voice wavers with hurt as you stand in front of him

he’s finally back after being gone for four months this time and you hate this conversation as much as he does, but it was bound to happen eventually

yeosang pleads, “more than anything”

“then why does it hurt so much? loving you…and being loved by you”

he doesn’t have an answer

but god be damned if he doesn’t try to find a way to fix things

“tell me, mint leaf, what can i do?”

you blink back your tears furiously, having already made up your mind while he was still at sea

“let’s break up”

because in the end, unpaved paths have too many rocks, too many thorns and too many arched roots; they were never meant to be walked along

you pass yeosang his finished drink without another word and then move further down the counter to serve a different customer

his eyes linger on you wistfully before he tears them away from you

it’s a good thing his hair has grown long enough to cover his face when he looks down

because his eyes start to grow wet at the sight of the mint julep you have made him

with two sugar cubes in it, just the way he likes it

perhaps, once you’ve loved somebody, you never really stop loving them

yeosang shows up again the next day and seats himself at the bar

you don’t serve him though, actively avoiding his end of the counter and letting another of your staff tend to him

he orders his usual but he leaves out his request for additional sugar cubes

it feels wrong for him to order it from someone that isn’t you

but you’re watching out of the corner of your eye as the worker mixes the bourbon, sugar and water, topping it with a few mint leaves and then sliding it across the counter for him

you let out a little sigh, half amused, when he takes a small sip and smacks his lips together at the bitterness

you take two sugar cubes and drop it unceremoniously into his pewter cup before you realise what you’re doing

yeosang immediately seizes the opportunity to talk to you

“my crew’s docked for the fortnight…” he waits to see if you’ll respond. you don’t, but you also don’t move away, so he continues. “we’re making some repairs to the hull and sails before our next raid”

you have half a mind to walk away after you reply, “i didn’t ask”

he forges on regardless

“we’re going to work with another crew for this one. it’s going to increase our chances of a successful raid because-”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean for it to when you hiss again, “i didn’t ask”

yeosang’s mouth closes as he pulls away slightly, back straightening

then he says in a softer voice, “i’ve been doing well. wooyoung still takes care of me, even though i’m not new to the crew anymore. i also saw my parents today and they’re happily retired now…”

you don’t stop him from talking this time

because how many sleepless nights have you spent sitting outside your tavern looking up at the stars; how many times have you served a mint julep to a patron and accidentally added sugar cubes; how many moments have you been consumed by the thought of him, simply wondering if he is living well?

this is everything that you have ever wanted - yeosang in the flesh letting you know that, yes, he has been well

but it is also everything that you have ever feared - that he has been well even without you

you don’t know what to feel

“my parents asked about you,” he says gingerly. “how have you been?”

his voice is barely audible, as if he is afraid of what you might say

or perhaps, afraid that you might not say anything at all

“good. excellent,” you force a small smile, your eyes still focused on the mint leaves floating in his drink. you don’t think you can look at him. “i own this place now”

his body loses its tension, cheeks rounding as he looks at you with genuine relief

“that’s…that’s really good to hear”

his words sting

you are unsure if it stings your ego or if it picks at the wound in the shape of the person you have lost

but it hurts to know that he has worried over you in the exact same way you have over him, the whole time you two have been apart

you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation and hot tears well in your eyes almost immediately

your bottom lip starts to crumple so you rush into the back room to escape

“y/n!” yeosang calls out after you, alarmed

when you don’t stop, disappearing into the storage, he jolts up from his seat and follows

your body shudders with every heaving breath you take, unable to stop yourself from crying even harder when you feel him tug you into his chest

you try to pull away but his sturdy arms tighten around you

yeosang refuses to let you go once more

“i hate you,” you sob, struggling against his hold as you hit his chest weakly

he hushes comforts against the crown of your head, soothing noises as he endures your fists

“you have every reason to”

yeosang holds back tears of his own

he feels your body gradually losing its fight, sinking into his embrace instead, hands desperately holding him close

your voice is so impossibly small when you tearfully confess, “but i still love you”

“oh, mint leaf,” he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your face and cradles your jaw tenderly, “i still love you, too”

he presses a soft kiss against your forehead, pulling away once only to reaffirm, “so, so much”

when he kisses you again, his lips taste salty against your own, but nothing has ever tasted sweeter than this

your breath no longer stutters but the tears continue to run down your face because your heart finally feels right after all these years apart

and yet-

you pull away

“we can’t do this”

yeosang feels his heart shattering

“why not? i don’t understand,” he whimpers

“you know why,” you say distressingly, “my life is here, yeosang. i can’t just leave and return whenever i want. but you, on the other hand? you can. you go where your crew goes - you belong with them”

“but my heart belongs to you. please, y/n,” he begs

his arms are still wrapped around you and you feel his desperation as his fingers cling onto you like a lifeline

you look earnestly into his bloodshot eyes, your own vision blurry, “yeo, you’re not the one who gets left behind here. you’re not the one who waits weeks, months, years on end, just hoping that the next person to walk in is the person that you want to see”

he wants to plead that he waits to see you, too, but he knows that he’s the one who leaves, too

“you’re the right one for me - the only one for me - but it’s not the right time,” you tell him gently

slowly, his arms lower themselves from around you

“it wasn’t the right time then and it isn’t the right time now,” he repeats, “then when is the right time for us?”

you shoot the question right back at him, “when is the right time for someone whose life is to sail the world?”

neither of you know the answer

nobody does, because loving a pirate has no certainties

but yeosang doesn’t give up

“if we can’t ever be sure, why don’t we just make it the right time ourselves?”

you caress his cheek sweetly, and despite having stepped away from you earlier, he leans into your hand, starved of your loving touch and affection

“yeosang…what if we’ve already had it? what if…meeting each other was already it? what if we’re just meant to love from a distance, not side by side?” your voice is poignant but resolute

he brings up a hand to cover yours, still warm and tender against his wet cheek

how is it that he can be touching you yet simultaneously feel worlds apart from you

“okay,” he accepts with a whisper

if loving you silently is the only way he gets to love you, then he will choose it in a heartbeat over losing you entirely

he thumbs away the remainder of your tears

“can i kiss you? one last time?” he asks

you nod

“one last time”

your lips slowly meet, slotting together as they find their home in each other’s dips and curves

his hands cradle the small of your back and neck and your own hands rest against his chest

the kiss you share is steady, longing and bittersweet

it conveys everything that you want to say to each other, and even then, it is hardly enough

thank you

i’m sorry

i love you

goodbye…

you can feel your eyes burning up again, but you focus on the feeling of yeosang’s lips against yours instead

because you know that the moment one of you pulls away, that is it forever

in the world of love, there are people who are ill-fated

they meet the right person, but at the wrong time

and then there are people like you and yeosang

not ill-fated, but star-crossed lovers

the right person…

but just not meant to be

2K notes · View notes

sunboki · 2 months

Text

— ENDLESS WINTER. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x f. reader

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

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

WORD COUNT. 12k words

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

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

alternatively :

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Growing, learning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had been peaceful.

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

Your blood runs cold.

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

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

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

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

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

Smell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You won’t leave, simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shoot!

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

However, your success is short-lived.

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

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

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

Beast.

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

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

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

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

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

Mage.

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

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

“One remained, huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Minho, this is important.”

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally, somebody else is here.”

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

Unusually, his hands aren’t chained.

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach sinks.

“Wait… You’re a Mag—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A devil, dressed as an angel.

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

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

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

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

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

Your patience dissipates, lip twitching involuntarily.

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

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

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

“Monster! A bloody— fucking— Monster!”

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

It wouldn’t matter, would it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shiver.

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

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

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

“Do you know what he does?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris?

“Who’s Chris?”

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

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

“Tell who?”

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

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

King Bahng. In the flesh.

“Oh.. Hey Chri— Hello Your Highness.”

Again he corrects. These two must know each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve received a fair warning on the latter.

“I’ll be off now, Your Highness.”

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

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

Pleased.

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

Vile.

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

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

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

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

“Possessive, are we?”

His glare shuts the cook up immediately.

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

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

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

“Hm?”

“Don’t expect her to warm up to you.”

King Bahng hums.

“I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He won’t bite y’know.”

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

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

Mocking. Ruby-red, mocking eyes.

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

You won’t bleed without biting back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse m-“

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

Ah. Right.

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

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

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

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

Salve. What salve?

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

“You smell.”

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

You smell? What’s that supposed to mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jisung, having noticed your amazed expression, chuckles.

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

“We’ve arrived.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shocking, right?”

Yes, shocking for certain.

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

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

“..He forgot something again.”

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

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

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

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

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

A short term fix.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His brows crease critically, seemingly sarcastic.

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

“Peace.”

Automatically, you roll your eyes.

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

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

Seungmin grins.

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

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

Marriage.

What.

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

Seungmin clears his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your scent.”

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

He groans frustratedly, wordlessly praying you understand.

You don’t.

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run away.

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

Die physically or mentally, pick your poison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo. There’s the cloak.

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

On your left, across the butcher’s vendors.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enough thinking. You have to go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone.

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

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

Deer caught in headlights.

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

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

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

Minho, Hyunjin, hell, anyone. Please.

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

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

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

King Bahng.

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

“I could’ve handled it myself.”

It’s a lie. He doesn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mine. You hate the effect he has on you.

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

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

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

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

A little sensitive to weight, but overall, healed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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

He rushed here, cute.

“I’ll bring breakfast down here.”

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

“Hm? What was that?”

Ah, at this point you’re picking fun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Minho?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seems his love life isn’t a concern.

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

“When do you want to train.”

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

“Tomorrow?”

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

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

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

Seems you underestimated Han Jisung’s stubbornness.

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

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

Perhaps this is karma coming back to bite you.

Ouch.

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

At your confusion, the knight chokes a cocky guffaw.

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that unfai—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know nothing about me.”

“I know enough.”

Now he’s asking for it.

“Say,” He sneers. “Let’s duel.”

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

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

Somehow, it grates your nerves further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deception is your greatest weapon.

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

You can’t afford to waste the opportunity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One more match?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh?

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

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

But if I win, you marry King Bahng.

Marriage.

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

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

Lies.

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

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

No weakness, no mercy.

“Fine, let’s duel.”

“But-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This theatre was particularly unforgiving.

He won.

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

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

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

You’ll be attending said ball as the bride.

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

Your chest feels.. sad? Empty?

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

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

No escape.

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

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

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

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

“He— The King, he’s a good person.”

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

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

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

Inside lies a gown.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What awful circumstances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He clears his throat.

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

He sounds timid, like a child.

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

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

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

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

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

Catastrophic.

“No- No!”

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

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

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

Your response shortens into a simple sob, aching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don’t. He beats you to it.

“..Do you know why my eyes are blue?”

What?

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

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

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

Rearing deja-vú reminds you of your first encounter.

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

You scoff.

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

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

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

“Mine already did. So now what?”

A minuscule pinch occupies his brows.

“You weren’t supposed to be alive.”

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

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

“You know I can’t do that.”

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

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

“And why is that?”

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

He’s right, in some way.

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

Yet, you aren’t.

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

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

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

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

So you’ll get what you want, tangibly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Technically, he was your new Ms. Maewether.

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

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

He raises an eyebrow.

“And what would that be?”

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

“I want to see spring again.”

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

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

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

“According to you yesterday, not really.”

Ah. Right.

“We just… have a lot to talk about.”

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

For now, you’re indifferent.

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

The cook’s outburst catches you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

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

Leave it to Felix to be your reasonable opinion.

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

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

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

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

Oh Felix.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your stomach wrenches.

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

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

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

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

It’s fine. It’ll be fine.

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

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

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

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

A sharp nod of your head is enough.

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

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

“Keep giving me ideas and I migh-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Was the kiss too much?”

King Bahng, asking if his kiss was too much?

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

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

“Could be better.”

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

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

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You crack a smile.

“Good night Chris.”

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

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

Then, abruptly, your door creaks open.

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

“I needed to see you.”

Ah. Don’t say things like that.

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

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

“You kept the ring on?”

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

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

He grins, giggling childishly.

“Is that the only reason?”

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

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

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

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

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

He perks up.

“Hm?”

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

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

“Care to tell me the other reason?”

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

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

You miss the sad lilt crossing his face.

“We are married.”

Without missing a beat, you meet his stare.

“Are we?”

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

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

You clear your throat.

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

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

“Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

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

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

“You don’t deny it.”

A silence passes.

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

He sucks in a breath.

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

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

“Chris, do you love me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you, so much.”

Then another kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d be honored.”

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

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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yoitsjay · 4 months

Text

Dad or Daddy

Pairings: Ghost x gn!reader

Summary: laswell bragged about how great of a babysitter you were. So Ghost just had to find out for himself.

Warnings: sexual innuendo, but no action. Cliffhanger

Word count: 1,639

Render credit: @ave661

You had gained a reputation originally by being a very good babysitter for laswell and her wifes adopted baby, you were a trusted friend of Kate's wife, hence the immediate job, and then Kate started to brag about how you were the only one who seemed to put her baby to a dead sleep, your voice and the warmth that radiated off of you was alluring, and it soothed a lot of people, babies included.

One day you were relaxing at home, you already had a plan to make your way to a local bar that night and had told kate and her wife all about it and that it was a new bar and grill that some other friends of yours had been raving about. Little did you know she would be giving a certain someone your location, and you would end up having a very eventful night.

So when that evening drew in, and you were dressed and ready in a cute ish outfit you put together to perhaps attract some attention to yourself. Maybe you would get lucky… Can't help but dream really. Regardless, you take a cab to the bar, planning on having a few drinks. It doesn't take long to get to the bar either since the location wasn't far from your home, however you did not want to walk home drunk, since something could happen and you wouldn't be in the right mind to defend yourself.

Upon entering the bar and grill, the strong aroma of savory food and alcohol fills your nose, however the smell is anything but repulsive. There's a small dance floor placed in front of a DJ booth on the right side of the room, directly in front of you is the large bar with a huge shelf filled with bottles of different alcohols and mixers. and on the left side of the room are booths and tables to seat at if you're there to grab dinner with a friend, family or other. You were hungry, but since you were alone you just walked straight up to the bar.

You order one drink and a water to start, switching from alcohol and then to water, just to make the night last a little bit longer, you had no plans till monday and it was saturday. After the two drinks you ordered a couple appetizers, munching on some potato wedges when you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder, it was light, but you could feel warmth from the hand that poked you, and you turned your head, resting a hand atop your full waterglass, just in case. "Hi?" You asked out in a questioning tone.

The man who had tapped you was tall, and muscular and he was wearing a black hoodie and jeans, however the most unusual thing was that he was wearing a skull ski mask that obscured his face. "Are you Y/N?" he asked, and you raised an eyebrow before speaking. "I am, who are you?" You asked him, and the man sits down beside you on the free bar stool to your right. "Im Ghost- Laswell told me a lot about you, you're a close friend according to her? and I hear that you're one damn good babysitter." He explained, and your previous defense dropped when he mentioned Kate and being a good babysitter.

Upon hearing that a soft chuckle escapes your lips and you nod. "Yeah thats right… you must be the silent killer from the 141 if i remember correct. she doesnt talk a lot about her work around me, but i do know that The Ghost is one mysterious guy… so how can i help you?" You asked, and watched as the large man rubbed his knee slightly. "Well- i have a 5 month old daughter, and i can never find a decent babysitter during the months im on deployment, i dont get a lot of breaks so its hard to see her, and her mom isnt in the picture." he explained, and you nod to show him that you were following along.

He continued a moment later. "All the other sitters i've hired have flaked after a month, or less than that, and well, Laswell says she is going to be home a lot more often which means you'll probably need work… What im asking is if you'd like to babysit for me? you would stay in my house, semi-permanently unless im home for breaks and whatnot, you'll be paid 100 per hour and all of your grocery expenses will be payed for too, and of course you can use any streaming service, my room- all of it. i just really need a reliable babysitter who doesn't flake out on me."He explained, somewhat breathless at the end of his request. You stare at him for a few moments, a smile slowly growing across your lips.

"Take me out to a nice dinner, and I'll be your permanent babysitter for 75 an hour." You stated, extending his hand out to him to shake. You didn't know if he was smiling or not, but the crease by his eyes told you that he was relieved, and just like that you shook hands and the deal was made. The dinner happened the next weekend, but Ghost took you to one of your favorite restaurants in town which just so happened to be your favorite as well. You talked and got to know him a bit, his interests and what life was like in the special forces. You couldn't help but admit to yourself that even with the mask you could tell this man was attractive, with the way he spoke and carried himself, he knew he was good looking too.

On monday he introduced you to his five month old, and she was an absolute sweetheart of a baby. He had a few more weeks left of his break so in that time he got you used to his apartment. It was a two bedroom, one bath apartment, a perfect size for him and his kid, and maybe a lover if he chose to have one. The apartment was simple though, one plant in the living room that was withering away, most likely a house present. And for the most part the apartment was clean, save for some scattered kids toys on the ground.

And in a blink the weeks had passed and You were back at simons apartment, this time with a suitcase full of clothes, and he was getting ready to leave, you said your goodbyes and off he went, and you stayed, living in his apartment for months. you took young charlotte everywhere with you too, back to your apartment on some occasions to clean up some dust, your friend was house sitting for you so it did not get too bad.

You and Ghost face timed every night so he could talk to his daughter, though of course she couldn't talk back, but she knew that the man in the skull mask was her father and she was filled with glee whenever she got to see him through the screen. On top of that you started having your own little chats with ghosts after Charlotte was put to bed. At first it started with little flirty messages, and then heart emojis or kissy faces, and Ghost wasn't shy with his responses with flirty remarks, though he didn't use emojis yet. You weren't a rookie so he didn't have to be professional with you it seemed.

One night seemed to be a gamechanger for you and him however, you had once again put Charlotte to bed and she was out like a light, no sound could wake her. You had a drink or two, and decided to get out of your uncomfortable clothes, making his way into his bed where you had made your home after the first three months of staying in his home, and still as naked as the day you were born you took one of the blankets off Ghosts bed, posing in front of the body length mirror in his bedroom, and with the blanket hanging from your lower torso, hiding the important its, you posed and took a scandalous picture of yourself, with a sultry expression on your face.

Immediately you hopped into his bed, and sent it to him, a grin spread across your lips as you sent him the picture without a word before or after. You shut your phone off, not wanting to see him type out a response to take a picture. However you were growing concerned when more than five minutes passed without a response, so you checked yours and Ghosts chat, seeing that he had read it.

Just as you checked the chat, you saw him begin to type out a response, and your face grew red in anticipation, and his reply finally appeared.

"You've been teasing me for months darlin' and now this? Buckle up sweetheart because when I get home you're not leaving my bed for weeks."

His response had your eyes blown wide open, and you could feel yourself get aroused at the thought of him doing.. everything to you. You quickly messaged him back however. wanting to tease him just a bit more.

"Oh shit- That picture wasn't meant for you ghost, it was for another cute guy- don't take things the wrong way, i'm just your babysitter,"

You sent that reply quickly, and immediately he was typing again, only sending you a red angry face.

"I'm taking the next plane back home. you and i will be having a long… chat… when i get back. cuz i know damn well you ain't talking to nobody but me."

And that's when you knew that you were smitten with your little kids dad, absolutely smitten.

#fanfiction #ghost x male reader #call of duty: moderm warefare 2 #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x gn reader #gn reader

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a-not-so-clean-blog · 29 days

Text

Nu carnival x ftm period

Mentions of blood, general pain, dysphoria, and drugs

♦️Garu, Aster, Morvay

Yakumo

Boy is comforting by nature and he will do anything in his power to make you feel better. Warm soup, mint tea, any kind of comfort food; he'll make it all for you. If he needs to he will even fight the awkwardness and ask his grandma for advice on how to make “someone” on their period feel better. He knows better than to out you to anybody, even to the people he trusts most. He just wants you to feel better.

Edmond

He's going to need some help. He heard that people like chocolate when this happens so he gets you expensive chocolate confections from your favorite bakery. If he's not too busy he might make some with you. Quality time is important to him and he wants you to know he's here to support you even if he's too awkward to express it with words. He will make time to try and comfort you as much as he can but it will be in all non verbal ways.

Olivine

He will pray for your recovery. He sympathizes with you, he understands how much his essence imbalance hurts him so it makes sense that your hormone imbalance hurts you. It hurts him seeing you so uncomfortable and him not being able to help. He really doesn't want to leave you alone and it hurts him when he can't be by you to help. Even if it's simply grabbing something for you he wants to take as much of your burden as he can.

Quincy

Quincy is big and I think he's very warm too, especially his right hand because of the gem. He cuddles up to you and uses himself as a hot water bottle. Resting his hand on your stomach and letting you use him as a pillow. If you have any kind of mood shifts he takes it in stride. It kind of reminds him of dealing with a cat; wanting pets one moment and biting his hand the next. It doesn't bother him much though and it's nice having a grounding personality like his around while you wait out the pain. He probably offers some natural pain killers if it gets bad.

Kuya

He has a herb that he gives you to help. You don't know what the plant is but it helps. All the pain and discomfort are gone but it makes you feel weird in the head. You've tried finding the plant but no book or even Quincy knows what it is. Kuya just tells you not to worry about it and enjoy not being in pain. You should probably be more weary of him but the herb works so well that you can't really say no.

Blade

He freaks out when you tell him you're bleeding. He thinks you're injured and immediately goes into protection mode. You have to explain it happens to some guys monthly. That's satisfactory for his curiosity for now. It's best to just tell him what helps you manage pain. If you don't he will take the initiative to look up what will help…and he will want you to try the weirdest home remedies. So unless you want him asking you to put a frozen potato wedge cover in sesame oil in your underwear, I suggest being open with him very early. It's so hard to say no to his puppy eyes when he's just trying to help.

Garu

This gets a little weird so continue with caution. He smells it right before you start bleeding and it scares him the first time. It hurts your heart to have him look at you so worried for a week. You know he's just concerned but honestly it doesn't help the dysphoria at all.

Karu

He is confused. Normally if something is causing you pain he just breaks it. Like when you stubbed your toe on the table, no more table no more problem. However he can't just rip your guts out, that would just make more of a problem. He tends to keep his distance unless you give him a specific task, once the task is over he's going back to keeping his distance though.

Dante

He is no help. Honestly he has no idea what to do. Normally the guys he's around only bleed when they are stabbed, but at least he knows how to dress a stab wound. This however, is out of his league. When this time starts he will assign a personal assistant to you to help. They have full permission to get you literally anything you need. Dante doesn't want to know about periods and assumes you don't want anyone to know about yours either, so your assistant is also sworn to secrecy.

Rei

No help in the beginning. I don't think he's been around many AFAB people so you are going to be his first reference point. After this happens a few times though he actually figures out the best ways to help you. He will learn what makes you feel better in terms of painkillers vs muscle relaxers, he learns if any foods make you feel worse and avoids them. Yeah he treats it like an experiment but as long as it helps in the long run he doesn't think it matters. Also he memorized all the early signs and is fully prepared for when it actually starts. I'm not sure how skilled he is with a scalpel (or if you can trust him with a scalpel) but he may offer to remove the problem if you want.

Eiden

I think he's the only one on this list who truly understands how much this week triggers your dysphoria. He will do anything he can help physically, but he is also extra protective of your masculinity during this time. He will literally fight anyone who misgenders you, and makes sure to give you lots of compliments. “Y’know most guys can't handle pain as well as you do. I've even seen knights cry at the sight of a paper cut haha!” He's very proud of you and will make sure you know just how manly you are.

Aster

Also kinda nasty so read at your own risk…. “Free meal”. He uh, gets pretty excited when it happens. He tells you stuff like “you look so handsome today~” and other masc compliments but it's all a ploy to get in your pants. Honestly he's more pushy than Morvay is when you're bleeding. It's just that the constant smell of your blood is impossible for him to ignore. He helps with pain management but is really only invested in the clean up.

Morvay

He heard an orgasm helps with cramps… this is the only thing he will do to help, but being a service bottom he does it so well. He will bring you food in bed, let you eat, make you cum till you can't see straight and pass you, rinse and repeat for a week. He gets so pouty if you leave because “doctor Morvay” just wants to make you feel better.

#i think these headcanons cursed me because ya boy is having stomach pain now #a degenerate writes #Nu carnival Yakumo #nu carnival Edmond #nu carnival olivine #nu carnival Quincy #nu carnival Kuya #nu carnival Garu #nu carnival Dante #nu carnival Rei #nu carnival Aster #nu carnival Morvay #nu carnival Eiden #nu carnival x reader #nu carnival #x ftm #ftm reader #tw periods #♦️

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zepskies · 4 months

Text

Being Human – Part 2

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: Thank you for your lovely responses on Part 1!! I'm very excited to bring you the next chapter of Being Human.

Chapter Summary: You know that Alec is hiding something, and it’s more than the fact that he’s been dating another girl behind your back. [Set during 2.11]

Song Inspo: “Sailing” by Avant

Word Count: 6,200

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, two-timing (don’t worry), mentions of Manticore’s training (torture), hurt/comfort, mega feels, smuttishness.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 2: The Only Place

Alec showing up at your door unannounced isn’t anything new.

This time, however, he comes bearing a raw chicken in a plastic bag and a sack of potatoes. Your eyes go wide as you let him into your apartment.

“Where the hell did you find that,” you gesture at the chicken. In this economy, it might as well have been a five-pound lobster with a side of caviar.

Alec waggles his brows at you and flashes his familiar grin.

“Farmer’s market,” he says. “I fought some rich lady and her Pomeranian for this.”

You extend “gimme gimme” fingers at the bag as you lick your lips. You two are going to eat good tonight. You can even use the bones to make soup for the rest of the week.

Still, something niggles at the back of your mind.

“But this must’ve been so expensive. You didn’t have to do this,” you say, looking up from the bag of goods to your boyfriend’s face. He gives you an easy smile as his arm hooks around your waist.

“Don’t worry about it. I won a few pool game bets off Sketchy. Not to mention a couple of his paychecks,” Alec says.

His smirk makes you shake your head, but you wonder if he’s telling you the truth. He always seems to have cash to spare, despite the fact that he’s only been working at Jam Pony for a few months—barely making minimum wage.

Regardless, you start to prepare the chicken with what seasonings you have in your pantry while Alec peels the potatoes for you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

Not for the first time, you wonder how he really lives. You’ve never been to his apartment before. Despite being friends with Max (there seems to be history there), he just got to Seattle a few months ago. And as for family, he claimed he had to leave home.

“It was what you’d call…an unstable environment,” he’d said.

That, you could understand. Your own father had died when you were fairly young. After the Pulse, a virus had swept through and ravaged your hometown in rural Massachusetts.

Unfortunately, a shortage of antibiotics at the local hospitals left your mom without much help to fight off what ailed her body. You’d spread her ashes in the Charles River, where she used to love to paddleboat with you when you were a kid.

Then, you’d packed up what little you had and left the East Coast to make a life for yourself out here, alone. The city had been a challenge for you at first, being a smalltown girl at heart, but the hustle and bustle distracted you in a way you’d needed.

Now, Seattle has become your home, for better or worse.

Alec knows all of this about you. He knows about your guilty pleasure of fried eggs, rice, and Vienna sausages: one of the ultimate struggle meals. He knows you love ice cream so much, you’d eat it for breakfast if you could.

He also knows you wanted to be a veterinarian, of all things, before the pulse. Now you have no hope or prayer of ever affording college, even if you tried.

But Alec…he still largely remains a mystery to you, no matter how deep he’s wedged himself under your skin.

“You’re really concentrating on that chicken,” Alec says, but his voice startles you, as it’s suddenly very close to your ear. You jump slightly as his arms wrap around your frame from behind.

You giggle a little, but you tilt your head to allow him access when his lips find your neck.

“Have I thanked you for this yet?” you ask. “I can’t remember the last time I had honest to God poultry…that also didn’thave a 50% chance of being radioactive.”

You feel the shape of Alec’s smile against your skin.

“No, as a matter of fact, but feel free to express your gratitude sexually,” he rejoins.

You have to laugh in earnest at that. You wash your hands in the sink before you turn in his arms and take his face gently in your hands. You bring him down to you for a sweeter kiss than he expected.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. “It’s nice, having someone who thinks about me.”

His brows furrow a bit at that. He didn’t think bringing you an unexpected meal would be all that impressive, but…he also knows how long you’ve been alone.

For reasons he can’t tell you, it makes a twinge of guilt hit him behind the ribs.

All throughout dinner, and afterwards, Alec is hooked on the familiar soap opera playing on the TV in the living room. You both are sitting on the couch, but you’re half watching him, amused by his reactions. He’s absolutely glued to an episode you’ve already seen.

“You’re even more obsessed than I am,” you tease.

Alec spares you a wan look. “I just wanna know whose baby it is.”

A teasing smile forms across your face as you shift onto your knees and lean over to him, as if whispering a secret in his ear.

“And it’s actually twins,” you tease.

His expression of enrapture shifts with a wry edge.

“Twins, huh?”

That seems to take him out of his enjoyment, somehow.

You frown a little. “You okay?”

“Always,” he responds, glancing at you. He visibly lightens up, pulling you into his lap with a muttered, Come ‘ere.

You giggle at his manhandling and oblige him with a few stolen kisses.

You feel bold enough to push him back to lie on the couch, and he actually lets you. His hands find your hips while you move to straddle his. Your fingertips drift down his chest as you consider him with a tilt of your head.

“Why haven’t I ever been to your place?” you ask. You draw an imaginary pattern across his chest, grazing him with your nails. His skin prickles under his clothes, but he stares up at you and shrugs without giving into your distraction.

“What, do you live above a strip club or something?” you add, smirking.

Alec’s expression matches yours as he squeezes your hips. “I like coming to you.”

Letting out a breath through your nose, you lean down and try plying him with slow, nipping kisses down his jawline, then his neck.

“Hmm, I still think you’re evading,” you say between kisses. “Tell me. Why haven’t you invited me back to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you getting demanding,” he teases back, even though his breath hitches when you nip a bit harder, just under his ear. Your deft hands run over his chest, toying with his senses. Already the scent of the soap you use has invaded his nose, like it always does. Jasmine.

“You knew this about me,” you say against his skin. He feels the movements of your lips like an added tease.

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. His smirk deepens. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

You smile. “So answer the question. Or do I have to punish you?”

Fuck, sweetheart, be my guest, Alec thinks. But he forces himself to focus on your words, reading between the lines of what you’re really fishing for.

“My place isn’t all that safe,” he says.

You snort. “Safe is relative in this city. Besides, I thought you said my apartment was questionable at best.”

“I said you needed better security.”

“You’re my security.”

Alec’s smirk returns at that. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Better than a doorman,” you joke, leaning down to him again. “You deliver right to my door.”

“You think you’re so clever,” Alec says. Your lips find his in a kiss, and they lure him back into the pull of you. How easy it would be, just to let you “catch” him. Every night. Every day.

Your arms cage his head as you finally lay down on top of him, slowly rolling your hips against his. Both of you feel his hardness twitch against your thigh. You smirk against his lips.

“And right on time,” you quip.

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You lower down and kiss him with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” you mutter.

Your exasperation has reached an all-time high.

You’re really trying not to clock this bitch in the throat. When she grabs you by the hair, however, you have no choice.

Your punch lands squarely up the bridge of Marina’s nose with a crack that makes even Original Cindy wince.

You feel sick to your stomach.

Not just because your coworker and former friend Marina has stumbled to the floor, looking up at you with ire and a bloody nose. But because you just found out that you and Marina have somehow been dating the same man.

Alec had been standing off to the side with a semblance of concern behind his eyes (but mostly shock). You turn to him next, and he freezes. All the nearby Jam Pony employees watch the scene as you grasp Alec’s arm and warn him with only your eyes—it’s in his best interest to follow you to the lockers.

He acquiesces, even though his shifty eyes say he wants to bolt. Cindy’s shaking her head with a flat expression. Max is outright glaring at him. Sketchy is grinning, shoots him a thumbs up as the two of you pass by.

Alec heeds your unspoken demand, but he crosses his arms once you let go of him.

“Apparently, Marina claims you’re her boyfriend,” you accuse. You press two fingers into his chest. “Despite the fact that you’ve only been dating her for what, two weeks tops? A relief to me, since I thought we’d been dating for almost two months.”

Alec laughs nervously and rubs the back of his head. “Well, you know, we never did say that we were exclusive—”

“Did you sleep with her?” you ask.

He falters at the look on your face. So incredibly hurt, but still holding out a sliver of hope.

The longer he stays quiet, the more that too starts to dim.

You can’t help yourself. You slap him across the face.

Alec takes the hit, making it look like it actually hurt him in the way he snaps his face to the side. He’s more shocked than anything, though he knows he doesn’t have a right to be.

Your lower lip trembles, but you also gasp with a wince and hold your hand, because somehow his face felt like a slab of iron. Shit! Does he have a metal plate in his head or something?

Alec sighs. “You okay there?”

He reaches for your hand, but you back away from him.

“Don’t touch me. Never touch me again,” you say shakily, through tears.

You don’t want to admit that your heart is breaking. You fucking idiot. You should’ve known your instincts would be right about Alec McDowell.

You grab your clipboard and your forgotten backpack from the floor by your locker, and you walk away from him before your tears start to fall.

In the aftermath of the fight, Normal raises hell about the fact that Marina’s quitting. You can’t really give a shit, but you’re not about to follow suit. You’ve never, and will never let a man get between you and your money.

You take your deliveries for the morning and start on your route.

And if you have to park your bike in an alleyway to cry without the prying eyes of your coworkers, then that’s your right as a woman.

Alec hides it well, but inside, his chest aches the way his face should. He doesn’t altogether know or want to think about why.

So he worms his way into a delivery run with Max to distract himself (and to escape Jam Pony HQ). Max gives him hell, as expected, but he tries to ignore her and get this job over with so he can drink himself into a stupor at Crash tonight.

…Or try to. Getting drunk is a difficult feat with his genetics, not to mention a very expensive pastime.

Right now, he and Max are riding their bikes through the richey rich side of town, so at least it’s cleaner. Manicured hedges and tall gates surround every house here. It’s almost kind of familiar, though he’s too focused on following Max to care much.

“I mean, it’s not like I intended to date ‘em both at the same time,” he defends himself. “And then when it turned out I was dating them both at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t intend to tell both girls about the other one. …You know, eventually.”

It’s like the universe itself calls himself out on his lie when the front tire of his bike skids. He pulls to a sharp stop in front of an iron gate and falls over onto the asphalt, but his reflexes are quick, and he picks himself up with a forced spring in his step.

“But let’s be real for a moment, shall we?” he says. “I mean, suppose I did tell them. What would happen, huh? Same thing. Big fight. Lots of anger and resentment and recriminations, and then who wins? Nobody.”

Max continues to watch him with a deadpan frown. “Well, at least in this case, you won.”

“Exactly,” Alec smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His expression falls anyway. “Well, no. Seeing as though neither of them will be likely to speak to me, which makes any kind of sex a virtual impossibility…at least for a couple of days.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Clearly both of them lost their damn minds to even give you the time of day.”

Alec has a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s waylaid by a memory that used to make him smile. It now just settles heavily in his chest.

Two Months Ago...

Just then, the bartender slides you a beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you answer.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. You tense up and blush at his proximity, making his grin deepen.

Damn, she smells good, he thinks.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

He knows he’s making you nervous in a good way. He can sense it, though you eye him wryly. He means to go in for the kill, but he’s thwarted when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink, the way women do when they have their own unspoken language.

You then smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

He’s still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

He means it. Every time you turn him down, he’s genuinely disappointed.

But if you ever change your mind, he’ll be right here waiting.

That memory falters as Alec stares up at the familiar mansion. He just doesn’t remember that he’s been here before—not until he rings the doorbell. That sound dislodges a fragment in his mind.

One that makes him hide from the surveillance cameras on instinct. It has him throwing the package over the gate and grabbing Max to guide her away from the house before they’ve been able to get a signature.

And a name rings through all the clutter. A name that was once seared into his mind is wrenched open like a badly sewn wound.

Rachel.

You don’t see Alec for a few days. Which is good, because you’ve been avoiding him.

Until he finally shows up for work, and somehow, he looks off. He lacks the jovial, devil-may-care attitude he wears like a second skin.

He glances at you down the line at your locker, catching your gaze.

You still can’t bear it. You turn your head away, feeling like a coward. You hear his locker door slam loudly and he leaves without even getting his schedule from Normal.

You rest your head against the cool metal of your locker.

“Where the hell’re you going, mister!” Normal calls after his former favorite employee.

Despite your better judgment, you sigh and push away from your locker to face your boss.

“He’s got a stomach bug. Real nasty,” you call out.

Normal’s frown deepens, but his expression softens from his hardened edge.

“Oh. Well…that’s all he needed to say,” he sniffs. He hands what would’ve been Alec’s load of packages onto Sketchy, who gives him a flat look.

“Go, get to work. Bip, bip!” Normal points a finger at him, then dismissively at the door.

Sketchy rolls his eyes, but he makes sure to send you a “thankful” look before he heads out. You give him a sardonic smile. Serves him right for taking Alec’s side in this whole messy situation, like the man children they both are.

Original Cindy comes to your side and lightly bumps your hip. She’s a strong support as always, and you give her a small smile.

“Come on, boo. I’m buyin’ your drinks at Crash tonight,” she says. You loop your arm through hers.

“Thank God for you, OC,” you breathe, though with a smile that feels a little more like yourself.

“Ladies night, it is,” she snaps playfully.

And if that’s what tonight is, then you’re going to look good. No ratty jeans and boots meant for walking. After work, you dive into the depths of your closet and find an old favorite of yours: a black leather skirt and a lacey top, open-backed and a sweetheart neckline. You complete the look with a pair of heeled ankle boots and the only shade of red lipstick you own.

You just don’t count on Alec wanting a night out too.

He hangs out at Crash all the time. You can’t be surprised, you remind yourself, when you spot him at the bar. Except he doesn’t wear his usual suave confidence. No, he’s hunched over a glass of whiskey as he sits alone in front of the bartender. He doesn’t even notice you, Max, and Cindy as you guys claim your usual table in the back.

You can’t help it though. Your eyes keep drifting back to him.

Both Max and Cindy catch you, with something like sympathy on the latter’s face.

“I’ve never seen him like this before,” Cindy remarks. “Anguished, and all Heathcliff-like.”

She’s right, you think. He’s been like this for days.

Max seems to know him better than anyone. You turn to her in askance.

“This isn’t just because of…what happened, is it?” you say.

Max sighs and shakes her head. “No. I don’t think so.”

But she’s either unable, or unwilling to give you any more to go on.

…Goddamn it, you think, as you contemplate doing something stupid, like going over there to talk to him. You know you shouldn’t give him the time of day, but God help you, you still care about this asshole.

You heave a sigh. “I’ll be back in a few. And if not, I give you full permission to haul my ass out of this bar.”

“Don’t do it,” Cindy advises, with the tone of someone who knows you’re not going to listen.

You get up from the table and give your friends a placating hand. You roll your shoulders and force your feet to move—towards the bar.

The seat to Alec’s left is empty, and you take it. His gaze slides toward you, and he’s forced to do a double take. His familiar once-over has you almost smirking, but even that is missing something. It’s like something sucked the life right out of him.

He gives you a haphazard smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t talking to me,” he says.

“How many of those are you going to drink?” you ask, gesturing at the third glass of whiskey in his hand. He glances down at it, then at nothing as his gaze travels away from you.

“Until I can’t feel the burn anymore,” he replies. Even his voice isn’t like him, dull and wry.

You hesitate, but you surprise even yourself by offering an olive branch.

“Look, if you want to talk about what happened…or anything else—” you try, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally looking at you again. “I should’ve made it clear from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

Your heart plummets. Your mouth works past shock and fresh hurt. You fight the sting in your eyes as your mouth flattens.

“So, you and I were just casual,” you confirm. “None of it meant anything to you?”

He looks over at you and pins you there. There’s a glimmer of something behind the cool green of his eyes. Like maybe part of him wants to rebel and give you hope.

He stays quiet.

So with tears in your eyes, you close out your tab, and you leave the bar to go home. You can’t even bring yourself to look over at your friends. You’re too embarrassed.

Meanwhile, Alec focuses on the contents of his glass, even though he knows nothing will ever be enough to numb him.

Now that Manticore’s psychological reprogramming has crumbled, now that he remembers what happened two years ago—and what he did—nothing will make his fractured, bloody insides feel like nothing ever again.

Max and Original Cindy see the entire scene play out from across the bar. Cindy shakes her head with a hum of disappointment that black women have perfected.

Max’s answer is to get up, with much the same reluctance as you had, albeit for different reasons.

“I know I’m gonna regret this,” she sighs.

“Take your time,” Cindy says. She already has her flirtatious eye on another woman by the pool table.

Max smiles in amusement and leaves her friend to her business. She goes to her fellow transgenic and slips into the same seat you occupied moments before. Alec barely looks up at her.

“Call me crazy but I get the feeling you’re in some kind of jam,” she says. “More than just about your messy ex situation, though that was a nice cold shoulder you gave her.”

“Okay, you’re crazy,” he replies, raising his glass back to his lips.

Max presses her luck, asking about the locket Alec has always kept. At Manticore, he’d kept it in his shoe. He’d pull it out at night and try to remember why it was important, but he never could. All he knew was that it made him feel better, and he’d go to sleep easier.

Max saw it on him days ago. And now they both know it had belonged to Rachel Barrister, daughter of Robert Barrister. The man Alec was once sent to kill.

He’d both failed and succeeded.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Max,” Alec says snidely. “Stay out of my business.”

“Fine,” she says, but part of her still worries about him. And she worries about you. “Look, I know we don’t always get along—”

“Nicely understated,” he cuts, and sets down his glass a bit too hard on the counter. The bottom of it fractures. “Barkeep!”

“But if you’re in some kind of trouble and you need my help, then you should ask now, and not when it’s too late and everything’s all messed up, like you usually do,” she says.

“Well, I appreciate the offer, Max. I really do,” he says dryly, “but you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“You know, I would, see, but…you wouldn’t understand,” Alec says. He points out that Max and the rest of her little X5 friends left Manticore (escaped) when they were kids. The truth is, she has no idea what he’s endured ever since.

Manticore cracked down on the next series of X5s like him, and every series afterwards—they all paid the price for what Manticore saw as the failure of Max’s unit. Lax training. Traitors. Deserters.

Alec didn’t see it at the time, not completely. He now knows just how deeply fucked up he was.

And is.

There’s no fixing it, like there’s no use trying to fix a broken toy.

So Max eventually walks away from him, just like you did. Just like he should have done for Rachel.

He knows he hurt you, but he also thinks it’s working out better this way. Better that you walk away from him, before he gets you hurt even worse.

It happens in stages, the way Alec’s memory unlocks.

It sorts through the psychological methods of torture and erasure Manticore used to try and scrape the Barrister assignment from his mind. Not only did it not work, but Manticore still won. No matter what he does, he can’t block out the pain or the rush of memories. He can’t not feel.

It’s a frustrating state of being for a soldier.

Alec’s laissez faire way of coasting through life after Manticore burned down was his version of stoicism, of surviving.

But if this is living, then he doesn’t want it.

That’s why he loses focus. He runs headlong into the trap his rational mind is warning him of—into that mansion, where Robert Barrister has led him with the torturous siren song of Rachel’s favorite piano sonata. The very same one he taught her, just two years ago.

Alec wants to rip the notes out of his head, but he still goes to the house.

Somehow, a fifty-five-year-old man gets the drop on Alec, a soldier. A transgenic.

Barrister knows who and what he is. He’s been in the game long enough against Manticore to know who he used to sell his products to, but he can’t quite pull the trigger on that gun, even though Alec goads him on. Shouting at him to do it. End his misery.

Rachel.

Max saves his ass again. It’s a frankly embarrassing number she’s racked up on that count, as she stuns Barrister and knocks him out before he can deliver the kill shot directly into Alec’s temporal lobe.

Alec doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care, until Robert tells him where she is, upstairs in her room. Alec travels down the familiar corridor, and he sees her again.

Rachel. Oh God…

She’s wrapped up in wires because of him; in a coma, slowly dying for the past two years. She pulled her father from the car that was meant to explode and end his life. Rachel fell.

Alec sinks down into a chair beside her bed. For a moment all he can do is stare at her pale face.

Because of him. His job. His mission, that he couldn’t complete, because he tried to save her. It was too late, she paid the price, and it was all because of him.

Because he couldn’t fight the training drilled deep into his mind. He couldn’t fight his captors, not hard enough.

She paid the price.

Alec sits at her bedside for as long as he can. He slips her locket back into her cold hand. He holds her as close as he dares, and begs for forgiveness through near-silent tears.

“I didn’t understand,” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t understand…how much I loved you.”

Alec attends Rachel’s funeral, a few weeks later. He stands almost a quarter of a mile away, but he can still hear the service. He goes to her grave, and he accepts the caustic words from her father.

“Never come back here,” Robert hisses. “I wanted to kill you. I hated you that much. But I’m still her father. I want her to be proud of me…and I don’t want to be like you.”

Alec silently accepts this. He knows what he is. Now, he knows what he’s done is unforgivable.

He also knows it’s time to let her go.

So he says a silent goodbye before he walks away from the grave and the cemetery. He intends to go home…

He doesn’t quite make it there.

Alec is forced to walk through a torrent of rain. He barely feels it beating down on his head, back, and shoulders.

Somehow, he ends up dripping wet at your apartment. His tall frame takes up your doorway when you open it to him.

This feels familiar, you think, as you take him in. Once again, you’re dressed in just your pajamas of choice: a loose shirt over a pair of shorts. Your hair is tossed into a bun.

You aren’t sure if it’s rain or tears dripping down his wet cheeks. His eyes are red enough to convince you of the latter.

“What’re you—”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His voice is a hint unsteady.

Your mouth falls open the slightest bit, but eventually, you sigh.

“Alec,” is all you can say. Go away, are words you can’t force past your lips, even if you have every right to say them.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I uh…I don’t know why I’m here.”

“You don’t know?” you repeat, your eyes widening incredulously.

He shakes his head, but he aims to leave. This was a mistake, he thinks.

You don’t know what to make of him right now. Hasn’t he hurt you enough?

He seems different though. He looks like he’s one step shy of falling apart, and you’ve never seen such rawness in his eyes.

Something inside you breaks, and you grab his wet hand before he can escape down the hall. You’re persistent in leading him inside your apartment, where it’s warm. You offer him some dry clothes he left behind last month.

After he gets changed, he sits on your couch with you. His silence is so confusing, you’re not sure what to do.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Me,” he says, chuckling humorlessly. “I’m what’s wrong. I uh…I should go.”

He gets to his feet, all twitching nervous energy, and again he tries to leave. You feel compelled to stand with him and follow him to the door.

“Wait,” you say, holding the door closed. Your hand lands on his arm, imploring with everything you have. “Alec, just tell me what the hell is going on. You’re scaring me.”

His eyes drag up your body, and slowly meet yours.

I didn’t understand…

Alec can’t help it; he raises a gentle hand to touch your cheek. You don’t deserve someone like him wrecking your life. He can’t be fixed, and he doesn’t want to break you too.

You hold his hand to your face. “Alec. Talk to me, please.”

In your face, he finds concern and the threat of tears, and his heart continues to hemorrhage.

There’s still room for you there. You’ve carved out a place in what’s left of it, without him realizing. He’s getting better at seeing the warning signs.

You let out a shaky breath. “Just tell me the truth. Are you in trouble? Are you here because you have nowhere else to go, or—”

“Honestly, yeah,” he finally admits.

You deflate in response. What the hell?!

Now you’re just about ready to push him out of your apartment and warn him that he better not come back. His grip on your arms stops you.

“This is the only place…” he continues, his jaw working. “Can’t seem to move my feet anywhere else.”

He means what he says, even if it’s not coming out right. After seeing Rachel’s prone body in her bed, coming back to face you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And yet, there's nowhere else he could go that felt right. He meets your eyes and notices the way you’re holding your breath.

“Uh, I kinda lied to you before,” he confesses. Your brows raise at that.

“When?” you challenge.

He licks his dry lips. “At the bar. Last time we met.”

“So when you said,” you struggle to articulate it, because just the thought of it still hurts. “What you and I had…that it didn’t mean anything…”

His hands slide down from your arms, to hold your hands in his.

“I was an idiot. I didn’t know what it meant,” Alec says. “I do now.”

Your eyes flood with tears as you let go of a heavy breath. Alec releases your hands to hold your face with shaking hands. In turn, you hold his wrists steady.

"You really hurt me, you know," you say. Your voice is a near whisper, but your words cut into him all the same.

"I know," he replies, as his thumbs caress your skin. "I'm sorry about that. About everything...which is why we probably shouldn't do this."

He really says that, even as his hands drift down to your neck, where he can feel your pulse beating and picking up speed. Alive.

“What?” you ask, with genuine confusion. You pull away from him a little, frowning up at him. "Then what are we doing right now? Either you want to be with me, or you don't, Alec."

His eyes meet yours.

You’re so real, so honest. Alec starts to think, to understand that this is what lured him in. It had him coming back to you every time you turned him down. It kept him coming back to you when you were his.

She can still be yours, he thinks. It’s a selfish thought, but here he is.

So he draws you in and kisses you deeply.

He doesn’t know how this can still feel right, even though his chest pulses with pain. But maybe, being with you is a different kind of pain. Maybe it’s not pain at all.

You asked him for the truth though. He can’t give you everything, but he can give you one piece of the puzzle; perhaps the only one that matters. He parts from you, opening his eyes to find your face. Your eyes are still closed, and when you open them, you start to blush.

It almost makes him smile, but his brain is still warring with his heart.

“I’ve only ever cared about one person in my life…and I lost her,” he says. “I’m not good at this.”

“How,” you ask, a bit hesitantly. “How did you lose her?”

His throat is tight. It’s all so fresh, he doesn’t even know how he gets out the words.

“She died,” he admits.

Your expression falls, and you shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, holding onto his shirt. “I’ve lost people too.”

He thumbs at your cheek. He sees your sympathy so clearly across your face, though he doesn’t know how you can still give that to him. It goes against everything he’s ever been taught, and everything he’s learned in order to survive.

He can’t help but let you back in, just like you’re about to do for him.

“It’s really this simple. If you want me to forgive you, if you really want to be here, with me, exclusively…then all you have to do is stay,” you say at last. Your lips press together for a moment. “But if you play me again, Alec, I swear to God—”

“No. No swearing’s necessary,” he says, and kisses you again. He’s surprised he’s able to smile, just a little, and he does so against your lips.

You break from him to grip his shirt and glare up at him. “You understand me?”

Alec’s smile deepens a fraction. He brushes your hair away from your face.

“Indeed, I do, Miss Ma’am.”

It takes you a beat, but you roll your eyes, despite a lingering blush.

“Ugh, don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” he starts to tease. “You seem to like giving out orders, I just thought you’d like a title change to go with it.”

You slap his chest half-heartedly. “Shut up.”

“See? More demands,” he quips. “I don’t know if I can work in this environment—”

You pull him down for a kiss to shut him up indefinitely.

And like it so often has, it leads into your room with the two of you falling haphazardly into your bed. He situates himself between your legs and traps you underneath him as he kisses a wet path up your neck. You arch against him and your hands dive under his shirt to help him wrench it off.

It’s all very fast, and a bit frantic until he has you naked underneath him.

His hand finds your cheek, touching softly, like he’s afraid to break you. There’s pain in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. Your brows furrow, though you caress a hand up the back his neck. He shudders when you unintentionally brush his barcode.

“Alec, what happened?” you ask.

He shakes his head. He wishes he could tell you. He wants to tell you…everything. It scares him, because he also wants to run out of here, putting as much distance between himself and you as possible.

But again, he’s selfish. This time, he understands why his heart is pulsing with both pain and longing when he stares into your eyes for too long.

“I can’t,” he says. “Not tonight… Can we just focus on the good part here?”

Despite yourself, you smile with a small huff. You take his face in your hands and bring him down to meet your searing kiss.

The good part, indeed.

AN: And here's an angsty Part 2! lol Let me know what you think! 💜

You might want to buckle up for where we're going next...

Next Time:

He takes one corner of your towel and peels it off you slowly, until your body is bare for his gaze. His eyes take in every inch of you before they make it back to your face.

He smiles, taking down the messy bun from your head to have your hair fanning wildly across his pillows. Your hands move across his chest and further down, but he puts a stop to your exploration. He grasps your wrists and pins them down to the bed with a strength you can’t escape.

You raise your brows. “Alec?”

“Trust me,” he says, dipping down to kiss your neck. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

You suck in a breath. Far be it from you to argue with that.

“Is this one of those sexual favors?” you tease. He laughs against your skin.

“You’re about to find out.”

Keep Reading: Part 3

Series Masterlist

Alec McDowell Masterlist

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Ko-Fi Me ☕

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#The Only Place #Being Human #Part 2 #alec mcdowell #alec mcdowell x reader #alec mcdowell x you #alec mcdowell x female reader #smuttish #max guevara #original cindy #DA 2.11 #the barrisford agenda #Dark Angel #Jensen Ackles characters #Jensen Ackles #zepskies writes

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ratherbefangirling · 10 months

Text

Belong pt.7

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, Omegaverse

Synopsis: The pack seems to be falling for you but Jungkook doesn't like it one bit. What happens when he learns you are his mate

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Jungkook walked into his professors office. Along with Namjoon as his guardian. The instinct to hide behind his pack alpha was pretty strong.

"Don't worry." Namjoon comforted rubbing his back. "I have all the papers here about Y/n's friends admittance to the hospital. I'm sure we will figure it out."

Jungkook nods biting his lip in worry.

They knock the professors door.

"Come in." The voice calls.

"Oh Jungkook ssi. And this must be your guardian."

"Pack Alpha. Kim Namjoon."

"Yes. Please take a seat."

Namjoon explained the situation to the professor.

"I'm not sure how much I can help you. You understand that he could have submitted before and its an important project for the final grade."

"Ofcourse professor. But it would be very gracious of you if you could offer us any solution."

The professor thought for a moment.

"While usually I don't do this but to raise your grade you may volunteer to supervise the freshmen trip. I'm the Head of the committee and we could use some man power."

"Thank you. Thanks a lot professor." Namjoon says flashing her a very bright blinding smile and Jungkook would be jealous except he knew how Namjoon always giggled when he was truly happy. The professor seemed charmed.

Namjoon rubbed Jungkook's back reassuringly.

"Everything will be fine now."

"Thanks hyung."

"You're welcome."

Jungkook fiddled with his thumbs. Unsure how to broach the topic of you. He almost hated that you came in their lives but in reality he hated himself for being insecure.

"Hyung." Jungkook started.

Namjoon's phone began to ring.

"Give me a moment Jungkook." He said before answering the call.

From the end of the corridor, a figure waved. Jungkook waved back to his friend Eunwoo.

"Hyung, I'm going to go meet Eunwoo. See you later."

Namjoon nodded and gave Jungkook a side hug before leaving.

"Still need Mr. Alpha to protect you." Eunwoo joked as Jungkook neared. Jungkook only rolled his eyes in response. He had enough of his friends teasing. Yes they had to listen to him show off about his pack and he might have gone over board. But nobody can blame him, he felt so good with his pack.

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook asked.

"Nothing important just dropping off some forms. You?"

"I kind of missed an important deadline so Namjoon hyung came to talk to the professor."

"You should be careful kook-ah." Eunwoo cautioned his friend.

"I know. I know."

Working together with your soulmate had to be the best thing ever. Jimin thought.

The two of them had been very busy after their break they had to set up a new exhibition. And setting up a new theme was never easy from looking into artworks, their aptness, setting them, having the backdrop and lighting changed to fit the new theme, archiving carefully the old ones, separating the loaned ones and returning them before their due. Making sure new pamphlets and posters are printed according to the guidelines.

The two of them had been working overtime because of all that. So when their boss instructed them to overlook installation of some of the artworks that had been bid on previously. They took the time to have a lunch break.

The restaurant was nice and casual. It was famous for its latest addition. A Polaroid wall for people to make memories. They gave you a free picture if you left a review. Otherwise they'd just put your picture on the wall. Whoever planned it, their plan was working the place was packed.

"What do you want to order?" Jimin asked.

"Chese burger and potato wedges." Taehyung answered perusing the drinks section.

"Fine I'm having the lemon chicken bake pasta. What about drinks?"

"Mojito." Tae decides

"The Berry slushie sounds good to me. You want dessert?" Jimin says.

"We can grab churros on our way back from that bakery we saw while we came here." Tae suggests.

"Ok. I'm going to go order now." Jimin replies.

"Am I seeing things or is that y/n" Tae wonders aloud.

Jimin turns and there you are. A sight for sore eyes. He misses your company but there is nothing he can do about it.

Taehyung tugs his sleeve. "Jiminie ok"

Jimin nods.

You too seem to notice them as the server guides you to the table. You nod your head in greeting but focus on Yeonjun.

Jimin feels a flash of possessiveness and jealousy.

"Do you want to share the milkshake?" Yeonjun asks. "Their large one is cheaper but I can't finish it alone."

"Yes, it's fine." You reply. It's weird to sit across Jimin and Taehyung and not with them.

Their faces look tired but you suppressed your curiosity about them. There was no point of being overly friendly.

"Are you going to the camping trip?" Yeonjun asks.

"I think I will Suyeon send me the brochure. It sounds fun. What about you?"

"If you're going I'll go." He says smoothly causing you to blush.

Jimin can feel his temper rising. My omega his brain screams.

"Yeonjun." You whine and hit him playfully.

"It's true I've already been there with my pack so I'm only going if there's good reason."

"So I'm your good reason?"

"The best."

Taehyung's eyes narrow. Both of them can't help but eavesdrop on your conversation.

You chuckle.

"Sure sure. I'm sure I'm not that special."

"You are. You are special to me." He replies.

The server comes with your meals.

They try to ignore it. They really do but you sharing the Milkshake with Yeonjun's the last straw.

When the time comes to pay the bill you learn that it has been paid and they leave you a note.

Have a nice day Y/n

Love jiminie and tae

"Do you know them y/n?" Yeonjun asks.

"Yes they are omegas I'm close with."

"Oh." Yeonjun said. It wasn't unheard of for omegas to court omegas but it was odd for friends to behave this way. Maybe they were trying to warn me. Yeonjun thought.

Taehyung and Jimin share a look. They need to tell Jungkook. If he doesn't get his act together now he never wouldn't even get a chance to try.

You call your mom when you reach home. You hope she'll let you go on the trip.

"Hello?" You ask as soon as she picks up.

"Hello Y/n everything ok?"

"Yes everything is fine? How's your day going?"

"Good good things have been busy here but it's nice. How's the pack?"

"Good... they're fine." You answer.

"I remember courting your dad. What a time it was. Make sure you enjoy it."

"Mum actually our college is going on a trip can I go. I'll send you the details."

"Ah my baby has grown up. Ofcourse you should go. I will send extra money ok. Buy yourself nice clothes and things you need too. "

"Thank you mum."

"Anything for you. Now I'll check the brochure send me any forms I might need to fill."

"Ok understood. Thank you. Love you. Bye."

"Bye love you too." Your mum replies before hanging up.

You feels so happy you do a little dance of celebration.

You text Suyeon.

Y/n: I got it. I got permission. This is going to be the best trip ever

Suyeon: fr fr. I'm so happy congratulations 🎊 👏 💐 🥳

Y/n: ☺☺

Y/n: let's go shopping 🛍 for cute outfits.

Suyeon: 🤑

You giggle to yourself.

•○•○•

You called Suyeon. You were supposed to go shopping together but you hadn't heard from her all day.

"Hello y/n. What's up?"

"Where are you ? We were supposed to go shopping today?"

"God that was today. I'm sorry actually Soobin's birthday is coming up so I'm with his pack. Rain check. Let's go tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I have to study for a class test."

"I'm sorry. Honest mistake... why don't you go with the pack."

"The pack."

"Yes its not like you are not close to them. Things might be awkward because of a certain someone but that doesn't mean you shouldn't hang out with the others. I mean you always miss them. And you did go out shopping with them before."

You find yourself being convinced. So you knock on their door.

Yoongi opens the door.

"Is everything ok?" He asks looking over you to see any signs of panic and injury.

"Hi yeah. It's just that Iwasgoingshoppingandwonderedifanyonewouldaccompanyme?"

"Slow down biscuit."

"I sorry I'm a bit nervous."

"No need to be nervous. Now did you need something? Why don't you come in first huh. Its so hot you might get a sunburn."

You nod and follow him inside.

"I wanted to go shopping because there is a University trip and I was wondering if anyone would like to come with me?" You tell Yoongi.

As you enter the living room. You see Jin and Taehyung snacking watching anime in the living room.

"Y/n!!" Taehyung is the first to notice you and calls you excitedly.

"Y/n come sit we were just talking about you. You'll like this one." Jin said patting the empty space next to him.

You felt your heart warm.

"Y/n needs to go shopping for... where are you going?" Yoongi tells them.

"Camping." You supply.

"Oh I have just the thing for you. Guys take care of her."

"Do you want to go right now." Jin asks turning of the TV.

"Yes I was supposed to go with Suyeon and she's busy and then I'm busy so today I'm hoping to find something good but if I go by myself it'll take longer to find myself things."

"Give us 15 minutes." Taehyung says and he rushes into his room.

You nod. Jin goes to the kitchen and brings out cookies.

"Here's a little snack. I will be back quick." Jin says.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome sweetheart."

As Jin leaves you sit on the couch and munch cookies. You feel comforted by the packs scent. You didn't realise how much you missed the pack. In a way you were grateful your best friend made you come to the pack.

Yoongi enters the room smiling fondly at you. He places a box infront of you.

"What's this?" You ask.

"A first aid box and some camping essentials. If you need anything else ask me. Me and Jin hyung go fishing so we have enough camping supplies no need to but things you will only use once. I can teach you some things if you want as well. There is basic first aid supplies and then there are fire supplies to light up campfire post rain as well and other things."

"Thank you." You say touched.

"Anytime biscuit." He replies feeling good.

Taehyung and Jin come out of their rooms dressed up. You can't help but admire how good they look. Jin is dressed in a button down and black ripped jeans and Taehyung's dressed in a tshirt with rips and faded blue jeans and a beanie.

"Come on let's go. Y/n." Jin says.

"Ah yes." You look at the kit.

"You can take this when you come back." Yoongi says.

"Thanks."

"Come on Y/n-ie we are getting late." Taehyung says.

Yoongi comes to drop you all out. Even opening the door for you.

"See you later. Have fun." He says.

You all wave him goodbye.

Jin turns the radio. You sit next to him and Taehyung is in the back but leaning front.

"So do you have any outfits in mind?" Taehyung asks.

"No not really. Something comfortable but also I look good in and avoid material that can get damaged in a camping trip." You reply.

Jin's and Taehyung's phones both go off at the same time. Taehyung looks at the phone and his expression turns into neutral, Jin looks at Taehyung via his back mirror, Taehyung mouths 'tell you later'.

"Is something the matter?" You ask.

"Nothing. Why don't you tell me have you thought about buying boots?" Taehyung answers.

Namjoon: pack meeting to discuss Jungkook and Y/n situation. Everyone needs to be present tonight.

All I'm going to say is that rereading this to collect info I just made up along the way makes me reflect on the bizarre writing process. Anyhow I made notes not to forget from now on.

When I write it feels like going up a mountain but reading was just like walking down a hill.

It's been a while I got busy with life and a little writers block I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts.

Taglist @jaiuneamesolitaiire ; @mintsugarmy ; @goooood-vibes ; @juju-227592 ; @singukieee ; @zae007live ; @rainbow-bunny-bts ; @fluffy-canada-pancakes ; @bleubirdinthesky ; @kyrah-williams ; @thedarkwinterrose ; @realswimshaddy ; @emu007 ; @jcrml ; @scuzmunkie ; @angel-121 ; @passionandsuga ;@popcatx0 ; @exfolitae ; @raineandskye ; @notsooperfect ; @toriluvsfics ; @northspiritstorm

#bts x reader #bts x you #ot7 x reader #bts ot7 x reader #bts omegaverse #bts au #bts fluff #jungkook x reader

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

Text

Evil Woman, Don't You Play Your Games With Me Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: How did Evil Woman get her name? Contains: Black Sabbath references, Eddie Munson bein' the smoothest nerd in Hawkins, pre-relationship cuteness. Words: 600ish

"Is that Ozzy?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at the tape player embedded in the dash, as if it were able to answer your question.

"Yup," Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of the gas station potato wedges you'd picked up to share on the way to Lover's Lake. There wasn't much to see in Hawkins, Indiana - your home for approximately one week - but with a tour guide like Eddie Munson, you'd happily visit every rusty dumpster.

You swallow and pause to listen closer to this unfamiliar song.

"Holy shit. Is this 'Evil Woman'?" You look at Eddie in wonder.

"Yup," he repeats, popping another potato in his mouth.

"What the fuck! Can I?" You reach toward the knob that controls the volume and hesitate. He nods. You turn it up and alternate between staring at the tape player and looking at him with excitement. He smiles and watches you react until the song ends and the next track begins. You twist the volume knob back and turn to him.

"I've been hunting for this for years! I must've pestered every record store employee within an hour of where I used to live! It was only released in Europe! How did you get this?!"

He grins and continues eating until you run out of questions.

"I've got a guy."

"You've got a guy."

"Yup," he smirks.

"You're gonna hook me up, right? You're gonna make me a copy?"

"Depends," he shrugs.

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on if I'm gonna be YOUR guy or not."

A slight blush appears on his face as he watches you process his statement. Did he just? Is that? Oh. You let out a surprised chuckle.

"That was smooth, Munson," you admire.

"Did it work?" he asks cautiously, one eye scrunched as if that'll lessen the impact of a rejection.

"Hm…" You gaze into the distance and pretend to think about it, just to make him sweat a little. Turning back to him and trying to contain your grin, you finally answer: "Yeah. Yeah, I think it did."

"Oh, thank fuck," he exhales.

Eddie was waiting for you in the school parking lot the next morning, bouncing his back against the side of his van with a grin plastered on his face. You parked as close as you could get, grabbed your backpack, and went to join him.

"The cassette you requested, milady," Eddie bows dramatically and presents you with a tape. Every inch of writeable surface is decorated with a custom-made Munson design. You accept it with a smile, but he starts rambling before you can thank him.

"It's the first track on Side A, but I put some other stuff on there I think you'll like too. I know you're a freak who doesn't like Dio yet, but there are a few of those. I will make you a convert, mark my words. And my favorite Sabbath song. And some Anthrax. And one from the new Iron Maiden album. Just… stuff," he finally trails off.

"Much obliged, Dungeon Master," you say with a wink.

His eyes widen, and he swallows hard.

"Say that again?" he asks, voice barely a whisper. God, he's adorable.

You slowly step closer, rising to your tip-toes when you reach him, and whisper breathily into to his ear: "No."

When you return to the ground and grin up at him, he growls and glares and rolls his eyes.

"Alright, Evil Woman, if that's how you wanna play."

#writings of despair #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #it wasn't officially released in the us until 2002 #look at these little bootleggin' babies

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makeitmingi · 4 months

Text

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 14]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

Yunho chewed on the nail of his thumb nervously as he sat in his car. How was he supposed to act when he saw you today? He left you, asleep on your couch last night. Well, he wrote a note but should he have woken you up?

"Argh!" He fell forward onto his steering wheel. Yunho inwardly cringed, imaging how if his mother knew, she would nag him for being 'un-gentlemanly'.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

Yunho looked up to see San there, tilting his head in confusion, having seen the taller's quiet outcry.

"You okay?" San asked. Yunho nodded glumly. He gathered his things and got out of the car. Seeing the two other cars parked there, he knew that the kitchen crew was in already.

"We had a break yesterday, why do you look more tired?" San chuckled, slinging his arm around Yunho's shoulders.

"I'm fine, San. I just stayed up too late playing." Yunho said.

"Yeah, after abandoning Yeosang and I mid-game. What gives man?" San raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, I just had to suddenly go somewhere for... a thing..." Yunho tried his best not to give anything away, making San scoff. They walked in together and the kitchen was already bustling, as expected. While San greeted everyone excitedly, Yunho ducked into the locker room to put his stuff down.

"Morning." Yunho gulped, greeting everyone. You were standing at the other side, your back to him. With your music playing in your ears, you didn't hear his soft greeting.

"Are you okay?" Seonghwa asked. Yunho nodded his head, going to the front of the house to get the barista counter ready.

"I'll start the bacon garnish for the bacon quiches coming out." You said, turning around.

"Before that, taste test this, please." Jongho placed one of the pastries on the board and cut into it with his knife. The crisp sound of pastry sounded through kitchen.

"So layer of puff at the bottom, layered the thin potatoes over and doted camembert cheese with thyme and black pepper." He said.

"Mmm, it's good. How did you prep the potatoes?" You asked while chewing the bite.

"Thinly sliced, then cooked in cream for a bit until just before tender then I laid it over the pastry. Oh, I also shredded some gruyere over. And 5 minutes before it was done, I cracked the black pepper over, was worried it might burn in the oven." He explained.

"Good decision. Hwa, Woo, come taste." You called them over. Jongho cut them wedge to try. Seonghwa nodded in approval while Wooyoung happily leaned on Jongho.

"This is amazing. You, just promote him to sous already." Wooyoung said to you.

"He's been doing the duties of a sous for so long, he just doesn't want to take the title." You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I would rather not work the pass. I'm fine doing prep when I can." Jongho said, bringing the other potato camembert pastries to the side for service later.

"Working the peanut butter frosting now for the chocolate cake." Wooyoung announced, running to the mixer.

"Orange pound cake ready to hit the ovens." Seonghwa said.

"I'll start on the candied orange peel topping while you make the drizzle?" You asked him. He nodded and you both started on those tasks. Yunho peeked through the small window, you seemed fine. You weren't unhappy and Seonghwa didn't look like he wanted to kill Yunho so maybe he was fine.

"Aww." He whimpered with dread, his shoulders slumping slightly. Mingi, who was standing there, watched his best friend with much confusion. He chuckled before moving over.

"Yunho."

"AH!" Yunho jumped, falling back slightly while panting with his hand over his chest in fear.

"Buddy, what is wrong with you?" Mingi asked. Having heard Yunho scream, you poked your head out. Yunho and Mingi both looked over at you.

"Everything okay here?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. Mingi shrugged, nodding over to Yunho.

"I'm fine. Thanks, (y/n)." Yunho cleared his throat, straightening up. You nodded slowly, not really knowing what was happening between them but you didn't really care to get involved.

"Oh, yeah. Yunho, you left your scarf at mine last night. It's in my cubby." You said and Yunho nodded before you went back into the kitchen. Mingi's eyes were wide, his jaw slightly slacked as he turned to his best friend.

"You left your what where?" Mingi asked.

"She invited me to her place for dinner last night." Yunho explained with a sigh.

"Is that why you've been distracted and jumpy?" Mingi questioned again. Yunho nodded then shook his head, then ultimately just let his head drop in frustration.

"Ah... no, it's not that." Yunho grumbled, rubbing his temples. Mingi just playfully smirked.

"It's okay, Yun." Mingi teased, wrapped his arm around his best friend.

"What's going on?" Hongjoong came over.

"So our dear boss here, apparently left San and Yeosang mid game yesterday. Yes, they complained to me about it. But what I've heard is that our boy here, actually left to go to (y/n)'s place for dinner. Even left his scarf there." Mingi informed. Hongjoong's eyes widened as Yunho facepalmed.

"You suck, Mingi. I'll explain what actually happened when I clear my head." Yunho rolled his eyes and entered the kitchen.

"Hey." Yunho came to you. You held a hand out to him as you were stirring something in the sauce pan, taking a spoon to taste it.

"Yeah. What's up? I already told you that your scarf is in my cubby, get it yourself if you need it." You said, still moving along the bench but at least were listening to Yunho now.

"No, not that. Thanks by the way. I just... you're not mad?" Yunho winced as he asked.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" You scoffed.

"Because I just left you there on the couch...?" Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. You stopped, staring at the wall before turning to look at Yunho.

"And what do you think you should have done instead? Yunho, I'm not mad. I would have been if you had actually woken me up. And anyway, the person who should be mad is you. I invited you over and fell asleep." You shrugged.

"No! I'm not mad at all! I know... it's tiring cooking a lot. I'm still really grateful and enjoyed myself." Yunho gulped. By now, the entire kitchen had gone quiet, with the 3 listening in.

"Nice to hear that you did. I brought leftovers if you're interested." You told him.

"You did?!" His eyes sparkled.

"Yes, I just said I did." You side eyed him. Yunho let out a sigh of relief, throwing his head back as he began to laugh. He was worried over nothing, you weren't mad.

"There's not much time. You need to open the restaurant." You checked the wall clock.

"The restaurant?... Oh yeah! Opening time!" He jumped and ran out the door to the front, leaving you there, blinking.

"So..."

"Shut up. It's nothing." You rolled your eyes, cutting Wooyoung off. Seonghwa just chuckled at how Wooyoung whined at your lack of sharing. He was curious too, he hadn't heard you mention anything about Yunho being over when he called you yesterday. Maybe he'll ask you later.

"I'm more interested in what you cooked him. He was so excited about leftovers." Jongho raised his hand. You sighed while Seonghwa and Wooyoung burst out laughing.

"Short rib bourguignon..." You mumbled softly, looking at your fingernails instead of directly at them.

"What?"

"Short rib bourguignon..." You said again, albeit a little louder but still tried to keep your voice low. There was suddenly a wave of silence that washed over the kitchen.

"You made him our favourite dish?! Don't tell me you made it with bone marrow."

"How could you?"

"We've been asking you to make that for so long!"

All the protests came at you. You scrunched your nose, rubbing your temples before turning back to your counter and finishing your work. You've never given into their short rib bourguignon request just to mess with them and hold it over them.

"Fine, yes, I made it for him with bone marrow, everything. I wanted him to try it okay? Because his favourite thing is galbi jjim so I wanted to let him try it." You said.

"Mash or pasta?" Seonghwa asked.

"Both. Roasted garlic mash and pappardelle." You told them, taking the trays out of the oven when the timers were up.

"Wow... Even gave him options..." Wooyoung shook his head with a click of his tongue, conveying the betrayal that he felt. You shot him a flat look.

"You guys have had it before! And you guys are capable of making it on your own." You hissed.

"And don't tell me that Yunho can make it on his own too because we know he can't." You glared at them before they could reply.

"Alright, alright. We accept your apology. Now, let's discuss the dinner menu." Jongho patted your shoulders. You cast him a look, you didn't even apologise to them.

"Let me bring this out for service." Seonghwa brought out the other bacon quiches to display. You grabbed a piece of paper and your sharpie, beginning to brainstorm with Wooyoung and Jongho on dishes for tonight's dinner menu. Hongjoong said that there were already quite some reservations coming in.

"We should do a chopped romesco sauce. Don't blend it, do a fine chop on the board for texture." Wooyoung suggested. You nodded, writing it down.

"Sorry, what are we serving with that?" Seonghwa came back in, having heard Wooyoung's idea.

"Chicken roulade. Stuffed with perilla leaf and garlic chives. Sous vide and finish off in a pan to get some colour on it." You said.

"If we have the sous vide going, let's do barramundi on the grill. Sous vide cherry tomatoes and fennel in that Korean aged white soy sauce to serve alongside." Seonghwa raised his hand.

"I think we need starches. With the chicken, potato parsnip puree? And I think with the barramundi, like a rice pilaf."

"What do you suggest we flavour the rice with?" You asked Jongho.

"Mixed herbs, paprika, lemon zest and we make it slightly creamy with emulsification of cold butter to finish it off. Just slightly to accompany the meatier fish and tartness of the cherry tomatoes." Jongho replied.

"Main starch?" Wooyoung asked. You put the sharpie down, scratching your head as you walked into the walk in to check the ingredients that you had.

"Seafood pasta. Blend the roe of the scallops, make a light sauce. Serve it with seared scallop meat, grilled prawns, clams, squid. I want the prawn shells for a prawn oil to go over." You said.

"Yes, chef." The 3 replied.

"Are we doing bucatini?" Seonghwa clarified. You nodded your head slowly, too focused on the sauce instead.

"Let's mix some chogochujang (spicy sauce usually served with seafood and Korean raw fish) into the sauce to add brightness. I want the tartness from the vinegar."

"Sure." They all took their own notes for what they would be doing for the night.

"Okay, let's discuss appetisers before we get too hung up on the mains. Then desserts." You pulled up another piece of paper. Yunho came in to listen to your brainstorming session. But with what happened earlier, Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho stopped talking, looking at him.

"What?" You looked up from the paper when they went silent. Turning around, you saw that Yunho was standing there. You hadn't even heard him come in.

"Guys, focus." You frowned.

"Right... So I was saying yukhoe (Korean raw beef) but with a chimichurri. We got a fattier cut of beef, it should cut nicely."

"Okay. Hwa, you're on that for tonight then." You hummed and wrote it down.

"I kind of want to do a soup. What soup can we do with what we have?" You asked. Jongho and Wooyoung walked into the walk in to check the inventory.

"White bean?" Jongho suggested.

"I would like to save the white bean for cassoulet stew tomorrow. What are our other options?" You said.

"We can do wild mushroom soup with doenjang." Wooyoung proposed. You all thought about it as a concept, mushrooms do go well with heavier, more fermented flavours. You nodded and added it to the list.

"You okay to handle that on your own?" You asked. Wooyoung gave you a thumbs up. Then you moved onto desserts. Yunho watched you quietly, he was always so mesmerised by you.

The way you commanded the attention in the room, the way the others looked at you with such respect and reverence.

"Alright. That settles it. Let's get the sous vides going and we'll break for the day." You said.

"Anything I can help with?" Yunho asked.

"Yes, actually. Help us fill those bins and stick the sous vide in while we begin the prep." You said. Yunho nodded, he knew how to do that, you've taught him before.

"(y/n) and I on the tomatoes and fennel. Hwa hyung and Jongho on the chicken? We'll help when we're done here." Wooyoung asked.

"Sure." Seonghwa and Jongho started on the chicken. When Yunho was done setting the sous vides up, he went to help them. Jongho gave him the mallet to pound the chicken until it was flat and even. Seonghwa prepared the filling of mainly perilla leave and garlic chives that would go in the middle.

"It reminds me of a roll cake.... but like, meat." Yunho chuckled as Jongho explained the dish to him.

"Well, that's essentially the idea." Seonghwa said. While you made the 'marinade' for the vegetables, Wooyoung quickly prepared and sliced the fennel.

"What's that?" Yunho asked.

"White soy sauce." Leaning over to grab a tasting spoon, you pour a little on and handed it to Yunho for him to taste it.

"It doesn't look and taste like soy sauce. It's sweeter? And not as salty as I expected. How do they make the colour so light?" He asked, tasting the bit of sauce.

"White soy has more wheat than soy beans and is fermented for a much shorter period of time. That means less sugars are broken down, that's why it has a sweeter taste." You explained.

"Can you use it as a dip? Like for fish." He thought out loud.

"Not really. It is used more in cooking to enhance flavours. So the cherry tomatoes we got are a little sour, that's why we're using the sweetness and lightness of the white soy to balance it without adding straight sugar." Wooyoung added.

"Doing the same for the fennel." You said. You held open the sous vide bags for Wooyoung to dump the ingredients in.

"How's the chicken coming along?" When you and Wooyoung prepared the vegetables, you went over to where Jongho and Seonghwa were.

"You can start trussing the meat while we finish up." Seonghwa said. You hummed and grabbed the butchers' twine.

"Ooh, what's going on here?" Yeosang came in.

"Watching them prep for dinner. And helping." Yunho said. Yeosang leaned down to watch you secure the rolled up chicken with twine after Wooyoung rolls it with filling.

"Looks like a lollipop." Yeosang laughed. That made you let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement.

"What is the green filling?" He asked.

"Perilla leaf, garlic chives, salt and white pepper." You replied. Yeosang nodded his head, impressed and interested in the dish. He took his phone out to take a picture of the rolled up chicken. When Hongjoong came in for his break, Yunho went back out to support the other boys.

"Okay, let's start a timer and head out." You instructed. The 4 of you went to get your things. You grabbed Yunho's scarf and container of leftovers, tucking them beside his bag.

"Bye. See you tonight." Hongjoong waved with a smile, Yeosang too. The 4 of you headed out for the rest of the day.

"Kitchen crew just went home." Yeosang said, stretching his arms over his head.

"This is bomb." Mingi said, stuffing his face with a slice of bacon quiche. San leaned over with his mouth open for Mingi to feed him but Mingi merely pulled his plate away.

"Get you own." Mingi growled.

"I just want a bite! And that's the last slice!" San whined. Mingi rolled his eyes, giving in and letting San have a bite.

"Mmm, it is good. The meaty bacon in the quiche with the crispy bacon on top." He said as he chewed. Yunho waved for San to help make the drinks for the orders that were coming in. Mingi continued to have his break behind Yunho.

"So, can you explain what's up with you and (y/n) now?" Mingi asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"A little busy here." Yunho replied, keying in the order so San would get the ticket to prepare the drink. He stepped away from the cash register to help San.

"Thank you. Please come again." He smiled, handing the drinks to the customers.

"There's something going on between you and (y/n)?" San asked while scooping ice into the cups.

"Nothing. Mingi is just spouting nonsense. As usual. (y/n) and I are just... friends." Yunho rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his chest felt warm when he called you a 'friend'. Mingi scoffed at Yunho's words.

"You were at her house yesterday." Mingi pointed out.

"You're at my house all the time. Does that mean there's anything going on between us?" Yunho raised an eyebrow.

"Well, there can be. But you playing. I told you we could get married if the law allowed it." Mingi teased, making San laugh. Yunho sighed, facepalming at Mingi's words. People would seriously misunderstand if they had heard him. Yunho's mother thought Mingi was serious when he mentioned marriage prospects jokingly.

"Wait, is that why you left me and Yeosang to die?" San asked in disbelief and betrayal. Yunho ignored him so he turned to Mingi, who nodded in confirmation.

"Wah, Yunho ah. How could you?" San shook his head with much disapproval.

"She invited me for dinner. That's it. Nothing happened. We talked about food and cooking." Yunho said briefly.

"You just left after eating?" Mingi tilted his head.

"She fell asleep on the couch. It felt awkward for me to continue to stay so I left." Yunho revealed. Mingi and San burst out laughing, making Yunho shush them since customers were around.

"Were you so boring that she fell asleep?" San could barely get his question out between his laughs.

"She was tired from cooking. The dish she cooked me was a difficult dish and it took her a long time to cook it." Yunho frowned.

"Wow, she put in that much effort to make dinner for you? That's really nice, Yunho ah. You should do something to thank her." Mingi adviced. Yunho nodded, he knew he should repay you but he didn't know how.

"How? I didn't even know what kind of gift to bring to her house. I brought her my favorite cold brew coffee... She said she liked it but I don't know." Yunho rubbed the back of his neck.

"You'll think of something." San patted his shoulder with encouragement.

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ilexdiapason · 9 months

Text

(part one here) (part three here)

(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)

“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.

“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”

He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”

Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.

“... Something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”

“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”

“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”

“Vegetarian?”

“No,” Martyn responds immediately.

“Olives? Mushrooms?”

“I’m not picky -”

“Pineapple on pizza?”

Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”

“But as a concept.”

“No problem with it.”

“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”

He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”

“Yeah?”

“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”

“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”

“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.

Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”

“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”

Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”

Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”

“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”

“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)

“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”

“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”

“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”

“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”

“Yeah,” Martyn nods.

Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.

It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.

Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”

Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”

Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”

“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”

“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.

“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”

“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”

“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”

“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”

Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.

“What?”

“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”

“Marty, what are you -”

“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”

“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”

Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”

“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”

“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”

“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”

The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”

Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.

Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.

He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.

The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.

(part five here)

#reverse isekai au #itlwlore #martyn itlw #oli theorionsound #pirates smp #scurvyblr #vtuber martyn #ilexworks #cw derealization

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gleefullypolin · 16 days

Text

The Sex Rule by GleefullyPolin

Read on AO3

For as long as Penelope Featherington could remember she had lived across from Colin Bridgerton. She had been born 4 days and 16 hours after her childhood friend Eloise Bridgerton and resided on Royal Crescent Lane where she had spent her entire childhood life quietly pining after her older Bridgerton brother. After graduating college, she moved into an apartment directly across the hall from Colin who helped her get an internship at Danbury Tells All magazine where he also worked, as a writer on his own travel column.

As long as she could remember, it had always been Pen and Colin, Colin and Pen, best friends, who were destined to be tied together for life.

~*~

Pen was digging through the cabinet when she heard the front door swing open. She didn’t even stop searching for her skillet before yelling out. “Seriously, do you even knock anymore?”

“What would be the point in that.” Colin scoffed, kicking the door shut behind him. “Do you have any sugar?”

She stood up quickly, “what on earth do you need sugar for?” She couldn’t imagine Colin baking after the last time he set the kitchen on fire trying to bake a cake for Samantha Stewart. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook, it was that he got distracted so easily that he most often forgot to pay attention.

“I’m baking, obviously.”

She put her hands on her hips and raised her brow. “Colin Bridgerton? That is your name, right? The same Colin Bridgerton who needed to sleep on my couch for a month the last time he baked.”

“Very funny!” He pushed past her and dug through the cabinet, pulling the sugar down to pour the granules into a container.

“What’s her name this time?” She blew a stray tendril of red hair out of her face.

“Berry? Cherri? Shit, I forgot which one I invited over tonight.” He shrugged, “No matter, she wants cookies.”

“You can’t be serious. Names are important you twat.”

“It’s something to do with fruit, maybe.” He scrunched his brow. “Apple?”

“The fruit or her name?”

“Her name”, he said with a smirk. He turned and walked back to the door, carrying his prize in his hands, a successful smile on his face.

“Don’t forget the picnic tomorrow.” Pen yelled before turning back to her search for her skillet.

He stopped. “Shit! Which item are you taking?”

Pen laughed, of course he forgot. “Potatoes. I figured I’d make that dish your mom likes.”

“And…. what was I….” He said slowly.

She grinned. “You have no idea what they told you to bring, do you?”

“Of course, I know…” He said with a boyish grin.

“And I’m sure you already have it in your fridge, ready to go.”

“Well, no. How many years have we been doing this, Pen? We both knew I was going to forget, and we both know that whatever it is that I’m supposed to be bringing is already prepared and currently packed away in your fridge. I’m just the driver.” And with that he walked out the door, slamming it shut.

“I hate you, Colin Bridgerton!” She yelled toward the closed door.

She could hear him sing back, “You love me, Penelope Featherington!”

And dammit, she did. That was her life curse. Loving Colin Bridgerton with no chance of him ever returning the sentiment.

~*~

Pen took a deep breath and opened the door. She summoned her courage, stepping into the hallway, placing the can on the ground, and wedging it in the door frame as she quickly carried the trash bag to the end of the hallway, dropping it down the chute. She wiped her hands on her pants and headed back to her apartment, pausing as she passed Colin’s door. She could hear music on the other side and voices. She didn’t know why she was torturing herself. She leaned against the door, her ear taking in the sounds on the other side. She could hear Colin’s voice, low, and dark.

Then an annoying squeal and a moan. Oh God.

She backed up quickly, tripping and kicking the can away that was propping open her door, the sound of it slamming shut behind her resonating in her ears.

Fuck.

Why did she never carry her damn keys with her?

She thought about sitting outside her door for the next…how long would it take for them to finish whatever they were doing on the other side of the door? 30 minutes? An hour? Fuck she really didn’t want to think about how long Colin could last on the other side of that door with whatever he was doing to whoever this girl with the fruit name was.

“Oh, my Colin.”

Ok, maybe she could wait 20 minutes.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Ok she’d give them another 5 minutes! Her jaw clenched at the thought.

“Oh God! Yes Colin, right there!”

UGH! NO! That was quite enough of that! She stood and knocked loudly on the door! She could hear shuffling on the other side.

“Just ignore it, I’m sure they will go away.” She heard Colin mumble. For God’s sake why was he like this?

She grabbed her phone and quickly found the contact CB in her phone.

Locked out! Be a dear and remove yourself from whatever body part is causing her to screech like that before I rip my ear drums out!

Her ringtone rang out through the apartment. You’ve got a friend in me. You’ve got a friend in me. The Toy Story theme flooded her ears and Pen couldn’t help but laugh.

She heard a thud on the other side. “One sec, be right back.”

“Colin, where are you going?”

The door opened and Pen swallowed hard at the sight of Colin standing in the doorway, his hard naked chest staring her in the face, a sheet draped around his lower torso, just low enough that it wouldn’t take much imagination for her to…. Fuck!

“How many times have I told you not to prop that door open?”

She had to will her eyes to meet his. Stop ogling your best friend, Pen! She reminded herself. “Can you just open the door so you can get back to…”

He smirked and she wanted to punch him anywhere that would wipe it off his face. He crossed the hall and clicked his key into the knob, turning it to open the door. Of course he couldn’t just get out of her damn way, he had to stand there looking like a damn Greek God, his arm blocking her path into her apartment.

“Thanks.” She grimaced. “Sorry for uh…” She ducked under his arm to try and escape this conversation.

“That’s what I’m here for Pen, always your hero.” They were so close in that moment that she almost forgot she was keeping him from nocturnal activities with another woman.

“Colin…”

Almost…

“Oh sorry….” Pen spoke quickly and then admonished herself for looking like a cat who just ate a canary. It’s not like she had any reason for feeling like they were doing anything wrong. She was just standing in the hallway with her half naked best friend, gawking at him.

“Hey um…” He stared at the woman standing in his doorway draped in his bedsheets.

Jesus Christ, he still doesn’t know her name, she realized. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that.” She interrupted. “I got locked out and well Colin has the…”

“Spare…” he held up the key in his hand and the woman narrowed her eyes in his direction.

“Oh!” The look of confusion on her face was apparent. “That’s odd. Are you his…”

“Sister!” Pen said quickly, as Colin stared down at her in confusion.

“Sister’s friend.” He quickly clarified and Pen gave him a glance that clearly told him that he was an idiot not to take the save she so gracefully gave him.

“Well, nice to meet you, Colin’s sisters’ friend.” she said icily, turning back into the apartment and shutting the door behind her.

“Well, uh, thanks for the save, hero, I’ll let you get back to it.” Pen turned quickly, pushing Colin out of her doorway, and slamming it shut behind her, ignoring how firm his backside was underneath the sheet as she shoved.

~*~

“Lady Crane was right about you?”

“Lady Crane? What did she say?”

“That you cared about me, that you would never forsake me. I’m beginning to believe that now.”

Pen hugged the frilly yellow pillow in her lap, a ridiculous reminder of home as she watched her favorite show that she and Eloise would always watch together when they would visit each other or when she was feeling particularly lonely like she was tonight. She wiped the tear from the corner of her eye as the door to her apartment swung open causing her to jump slightly and the light from the hallway to suddenly flood her dark living room.

“Are you watching your porn show again?”

“Colin, Jesus I swear are you ever going to knock?” she asked in aggravation.

He threw himself down on the couch beside her, plopping his feet up on the coffee table. Pen was almost annoyed that he was now freshly showered, his scent of fresh lavender and oak almost permeating the room. His hair was still wet, and he was in a pair of dark sweats and her favorite mint green Olive You hoodie she had bought him for Christmas last year. She cursed that he looked so damn good in everything.

“Why are you here, bothering me? Surely you have exhausted yourself and should be sleeping until noon tomorrow.”

He stared intently at the screen, ignoring her comment. “What do you see in this show? If you wanted to watch a show about sex, just watch porn.”

She jammed her finger on the pause button and glared at him. “Are you just here to annoy me? Because if not, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Colin?”

He shrugged. “Just bored…”

“Bored…” She interrupted. “Where is your piece of fruit?” She groaned in frustration.

He shrugged. “She got a headache and went home after you locked yourself out of your apartment.”

“Too bad.” She lied.

“Were you crying?” he asked, suddenly staring at her intently.

“What? No? I mean…it’s this bloody show.” She pointed at the screen. “She’s in love with him and he’s too stupid to realize it. I’m just emotional.”

He laughed and she kicked at him. He grabbed her foot and held it in his grasp. “How do you know he doesn’t know? Look at the way he’s looking at her.”

She looked up at the screen, the way it was paused with the male character staring at the red-haired girl next to him. “Well, he hasn’t realized it yet. He still thinks of her like a sister. Because men are stupid.” She pouted.

“Ah, the old men are stupid trope. You sound like El now.” He paused. “Trust me, he’s thinking about it. All men think about it.”

She snorted. “That’s most definitely not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s a guarantee that at some point every man will look at a woman and think about having sex with her at least once. It’s the sex rule”

“Bullshit. I know that’s not true.” Pen rolled her eyes.

“Want to put money on it?” She glared at him, but he only returned her stare with that devil-may-care grin that told her she would lose that bet.

“So you’ve thought about..sex…” her words came out slowly, deliberately as she carefully considered them.

He nodded.

“With…” She continued.

“Come now Pen…you’re almost there.”

“No.” She returned quickly.

“Yes.” He said drawing out the word.

“You have not.” she said defiantly.

“I have.” His tone was matter of fact. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck. “Ok come on there has to have been at least once in your life that you have thought about having sex with me?”

“Never.” She lied, but the speed at which she did so gave her away.

“Pen.” He was smirking at her again and it was driving her insane.

“Colin…” she said with a glare.

“Not once?” He pouted.

“I’m not answering that question.” She pursed her lips together tightly.

“Then that means you have.” He shrugged in victory.

“It does not.”

“Come on, it’s completely normal. All men and women think about it at least once.” The way he was speaking about this, so normally was driving her insane. How could he talk about this like this was not earth shattering?

“They do not.”

“Yes, they do. Pen, I know you aren’t new to sex, stop acting like you’re 12.”

Pen crossed her arms in front of her, almost like she was protecting herself somehow. “So, you really mean to tell me that you have thought about having sex with me?”

“Yes.” He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Colin!” She couldn’t stop the grin from spreading on her face even though she was absolutely flabbergasted that he was admitting this like it was no big deal and that made the heat building in her start to burn her cheeks.

“Pen!” her name drew from his lips thick and hot, and she felt herself swallow hard. “I think we know each other’s names at this point. Be honest. You’ve at least thought about it once.”

She was not doing this. She was not doing this. She was absolutely NOT doing this. Her smile betrayed her.

“I knew it.” He had the audacity to pump his fist in the air.

Dammit!

“Ok you tell me, I’ll tell you.”

“What?” Pen’s mouth dropped.

“If I tell you when I thought about it, then you have to tell me when you did?” His grin of utter triumph had her heart thumping in her head. How could he look so calm right now?

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? Are we not friends?” He smirked, his bottom lip jutting out slightly before his tongue swept out to wet his mouth.

“This is stupid! Friends don’t talk about this.”

“What are you afraid of, Penelope?” And the way her name hung in the air, the way it fell out of his mouth, mixed with the sweet tang of lemonade on a hot summer day.

“I’m not afraid of anything, Colin Bridgerton…”

He smirked for what felt like the millionth time that night and damn him, this is how he always beat her. Him and that gorgeous smile, the way he always knew the combination to unlocking her fears, the way he was able to put her off guard to get her to share anything with him because he was Colin, and she was Pen.

“Fine, when did you think about it?” She asked with a sigh, resigned to the fact that they were doing this.

“Junior prom.”

“You are certifiable! I would have been in Junior high school.” She scrunched her nose and made a vomiting motion.

“Not my junior prom, your junior prom.” He said with nothing but sincerity on his face.

Pen swallowed hard. Fuck. Not that night.

“I still remember you and El sitting out back by the pool. You were a crying mess when Dingleber…I mean Debling didn’t show up to escort you.”

She laughed, trying not to remember how hurt she felt that night, how much she had been destroyed when the most popular guy in school had invited her to prom only to embarrass her in front of the entire school simply to show up with Cressida Cowper instead. A ruse just to remind her that she wasn’t worth dating, someone that nobody ever noticed, a joke. “I remember El and Phillip wanted to drive over to his house and beat the shit out of him.”

“I would have done so myself, but Anthony took my keys. He said something about jail not being one of the places he wanted to be that night.”

She rolled her eyes but was comforted remembering how much the Bridgerton boys had treated her like a sister growing up, protecting her. “Then your mom forced you to take me instead.” She laughed.

“No, she didn’t.” he said, sitting up, taking both of her feet into his lap.

“Yes, she did. El told me.”

“No Pen, I assure you, she didn’t, I offered. I just told El mom forced me to.” He shook his head and laughed. “What college kid volunteers to take 2 stupid high school kids to prom.” He reached up and ran his hands through his hair, something she had seen him do countless times before when he was nervous.

“But El was so pissed because your mom forced you to chaperone us.”

“El was only pissed until I supplied you all with beer after.” He quickly retorted.

“Which she rewarded you with by decorating the leather seats of your car with afterwards.” It was the one thing both Colin and Pen still held over Eloise’s head to get her to do things for them since their mother was still none the wiser of the events from that evening.

“You know it took me a month to get the smell out.” He paused and then looked down at his fingers, running small circles against the skin on her ankles. “I still remember that dress you wore though.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Emerald green, cut down the front to show off your…um…assets, that slit you kept trying to cover up all night that made it really hard to keep my eyes on the road or anything else for that matter.”

“Excuse me?” Pen couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that escaped.

“I’m pretty sure that little heart shaped kiss mark on your inner thigh was burned into my memory for all eternity after that night.”

“Oh my God.” She exclaimed. Pen’s hand immediately brushed over the area, her cheeks starting to heat up. Was the room suddenly on fire?

“I seem to remember that night very differently than you.” She responded, finally recovering from her shock.

“How so?” His head tilted and the light from the television illuminated his expression and Pen was taken back with how invested he appeared to be in her answer.

“You spent most of the evening on the phone if I recall. Distracted by your girlfriend.” She frowned and tried to immediately mask it with a fake smile. It’s not as if she had any right to have been jealous anyway.

He made a sound between a laugh and a scoff. “Ah yes, Marina.”

“So maybe your memory is confused about who you were thinking about having sex with that night.” She hated discussing Marina. Hated discussing any of Colin’s ex-girlfriends or whatever they may be with him. In fact, she was starting to hate this entire conversation. They needed to end it and go to bed before her heart shattered any more tonight.

He shook his head with a smirk, staring directly into her eyes in that way that Colin was always able to do that made everything in her weak. “I’m pretty clear about those memories, Pen.”

Her voice faltered for a moment before she gathered herself in defiance of everything her body was feeling. “That was 8 years ago you moron, you don’t even remember what you ate for breakfast this morning.”

He leaned forward, his hand grazing hers as it sat on the back of the couch and Pen felt every single molecule in her body freeze. “I can assure you Pen, you never forget that first time. It was… enlightening, surprising…orgasmic, shall I say.” He drew out every word and her eyes were glued to the way his mouth even uttered the word orgasmic! She had to pull herself out of whatever trance she was in before this got out of control. Because this was insane.

And then she lost herself. She did what Pen always did when she got uncomfortable. She let out a loud giggle. “You are unhinged Colin. Ridiculous. You want me to believe that you went home and…”

He simply shook his head, a slow grin forming devilishly on his face.

“No!” she argued defiantly.

“Yes!” He smirked.

“NO!” she responded almost shouting.

“I did.” He sat back on the couch, satisfied, proud of himself almost.

“I hate you.” She pouted.

“Won’t change that it happened.” He paused, letting his story hang in the air for what felt like an eternity before he spoke again. “And that was my tale. Now tell me yours.”

She scoffed. Hell no! “Oh, I think we’ve had just about enough tales tonight.” There was no way this was getting any further than they had already gotten. She was not about to tell him how many times she had thought about Colin taking her right there on the very couch they were currently curled up on.

“No, no, no, we said we’d both tell. You don’t get to back out now.” He gripped her ankles tightly, not letting her remove herself from the couch.

Pen tried to look anywhere but at Colin, staring at the characters on the screen instead. UGH. Why was this happening tonight. Fuck. Be brave. What’s the worst that can happen? He can just make fun of you and then tomorrow he’ll bake a cake for someone with a name that rhymes with a vegetable.

“Junior Prom.” she said softly. She glanced at him and was annoyed immediately at the small smile that started to grow into the most annoying smirk she had ever seen on his face. “Oh, shut up.” She kicked her foot at him, but he held it firmly in his grasp, his hands lightly massaging her toes with his fingers. Damn him.

“I told you, it’s completely normal Pen. I was your best friend’s very handsome older brother.”

“Wow! I always though Ben was the handsome one.” she teased.

“I mean at least tell me I was good.” His voice got low, and she cursed the sudden change in tone, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end again.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly real now, was it?” She laughed uncomfortably, unable to get control of her emotions all of a sudden. Were they really discussing this? Could they please stop? His hands moved to her ankle and a shiver hit her. “Come on, at least tell me you didn’t imagine me a shit lay, Pen. I got dumped because of that fuck.”

“I’m sorry what?” She snorted.

“Nothing…” he said quickly.

“What do you mean you got dumped because of it?” she asked seriously, thinking back to when Colin and Marina broke up. It was long after prom. Wasn’t it?

He sighed, his fingers still moving slowly against her skin, but working their way up to her calf. “Marina dumped me over that whole prom thing.”

“What? Why?” That wasn’t right, she clearly remembered him telling them that they broke up months after prom.

“Why do women do anything.” He scoffed. “We had a date that night. I broke that date. It wasn’t a big deal. I waited to tell everyone because, well, Marina and I had other problems besides that. So…” He shrugged.

“You never told me that. You should have gone. You didn’t have to take us.”

“Yes, I did.” He said suddenly, and way more seriously than she was prepared for. “You were looking forward to that dance for weeks. I remember you and El talking about it like it was a fucking meeting with the Queen for God’s sake. I think you took 4 hours getting ready only for that fucker to just not show up…to fucking leave you like that…to embarrass you in front of the whole school…”

Pen was taken aback with his emotion, so sudden, so serious.

“I wasn’t going to let him make you feel like that. Like you weren’t worth that kind of attention. Like you didn’t deserve to feel beautiful that night.”

The air in the room felt stifled.

“Colin…”

“Anyway, Marina didn’t get it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered that night was you, Pen.” His voice was soft, quiet, and sincere. Pen felt her entire heart explode. The hand on her calf had slowed, fingers drawing circles against her skin that were setting her skin on fire.

“Colin…” She tried to speak again. But staring at his hand, her voice cracking, no other words were coming out.

“So, um yeah…” he looked up at the television screen. “That bloke knows, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to do something about it.”

“Then El is right, men are stupid.” She exclaimed. “Why is it that men are able to fuck around with every other woman except for the one they actually want? Why is it that when they want a woman, they have no idea what to do with them?”

He groaned or sighed; Pen wasn’t sure which. “It’s not that easy, Pen and you know it.”

“Is it not?” she asked indignantly.

“You tell me?” He almost pleaded and it thew Pen off her axis. “You tell me how easy this is? How many times?”

“What?” She looked at him in confusion.

“How many times have you thought about it? Once, twice?” his face contorted in what seemed like pain.

“Thought about what?”

“Sex with me?”

“Col…”

“Every night…” He announced suddenly. “I think about it every night, Pen. So tell me how easy it is to just drop all this pretense and tell your best friend that you are in love with her and spend every fucking night imagining what it would be like to taste her, touch her, breathe in every inch of her skin beneath my body, but you can’t have her, so instead you just wander around aimlessly, fucking lost, knowing that she can never be yours.”

Pen was certain that every single sound in the room had suddenly turned off until the silence in the room was deafening. Colin was in love with her?

She couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t happening, there was no way this was happening right now.

“Do you really have nothing to say?”

Reality came crashing back as her eyes met his, something looming behind the blue ocean swirling in his pupils…almost pleading for her to respond.

“I…You’re in love with me?” She heard herself say without even recognizing her own voice.

“Is that so hard for you to believe?” He seemed to be pleading with her and she felt her heart clench.

She sat up quickly, pulling her legs away from him as she stood from the couch, pacing across the room, her heart starting to race. “Yes, it is. You’ve never said anything. You always have a girlfriend. How the hell would I ever think you thought anything about me besides being your friend?”

“Would you stop pacing!” He was watching her from his spot on the couch.

“No, you know I need to pace when I’m stressed. And you’ve stressed me out.”

“So…” He paused, staring down at his hands, his jaw clenched. “Me telling you that I love you is stressful?”

“Yes…No…I don’t know.” She declared as she turned back and forth on the carpet.

“Ok. That’s not exactly helpful Pen.”

“I don’t know Colin. I don’t understand. This doesn’t make sense. You had a girl in your room not three fucking hours ago.” She yelled.

He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, and she berated herself for finding that sexy as hell for the third time this evening.

Focus Penelope!

“I didn’t think this was an option. I don’t know, it’s what I do. I distract myself.” He said with a wolfish grin that should not have been sexy and she should not have wanted to wipe it off his face with a kiss. She was angry with him right now!

“By being an asshat?” She yelled instead.

“I don’t know Ok! Mom says it’s a coping mechanism. She said the more I ignore my feelings for you the more I continue to fall into bad behavior.”

“Oh my God, you talked to your mom about this? Who else did you talk to about this?” She was staring at him wide eyed, in shock that he had told his mother about his feelings for her.

“No one…I mean maybe Ben…and Ant…I might have mentioned it to Daph once and maybe...” he dropped his face into his hands and groaned.

“Oh my God, is there anyone you haven’t talked to about this? Besides me and Eloise?”

He looked up and bit his lip.

Pen’s mouth fell agape. “You told Eloise?” She yelled.

“Pen…” He tilted his head and stood from his spot.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” she said softly.

“Because you are the most important person in my life and the only person I can’t afford to lose.” He replied sincerely and she felt the room start to spin.

“Well maybe, you fucking asshat, if you had come to talk to me, you would have found out that I have been in love with you since the day you walked out of your room in your boxer shorts and shared your chocolate waffles with me when I was 8 years old.” Tears were starting to well in the corners of her eyes. “And while you are the most important person in my life and there isn’t a day I don’t want you in it, there isn’t a single night that I don’t go to bed having to listen to you in your apartment and thinking about how badly I want to be the reason you are making that maddening moan that makes me go weak in the knees and wet between the legs.” His eyes were dark as he stood rooted to his space in front of the couch. “Living next to you and not being able to have you has been the most excruciating hell I’ve ever lived in.”

“Pen…I didn’t…I…had no…” His pained expression changed in an instant, desire growing the moment their eyes met. He crossed the room in one step, erasing the space between them. Time stood still the moment his lips touched hers, a surge of electricity sparking between them setting her skin aflame at his very touch. His hand was in her hair, his fingertips massaging the space behind her ear and damn if it wasn’t the most glorious feeling in the world.

A moan escaped her lips, unrecognizable even to her, as his mouth grazed a wet trail across her jaw which was met by a low growl that made her skin crawl in devilish ways that had her begging for more.

“Colin…” his name fell from her lips so naturally like it had so many times before but tonight it felt different, as if saying it was the only way to bring her the release she had been needing for years. She felt his breathe against her ear, a heat that made her senses rise.

“I want you; I’ve always wanted you like this.” She was afraid the earth was going to swallow her whole at that very moment, to end her existence before she could truly understand the meaning of hearing the words that had come out of his mouth. She had waited her entire life to know what it meant to be truly wanted by the man holding her in his arms.

“Then take me.” she whispered, her knees nearly buckled beneath her as his tongue slid hot against her neck, his mouth sucking against her skin, teeth skimming her flesh. She knew that would leave a mark in the morning; she didn’t care. She wanted it. She wanted him to mark her. To make her his. Truly, she was always his. He only needed to claim her.

His hands slid under her T-shirt, his palms pressing against her belly as their bodies tumbled toward the ground.

“Books.” She grunted, trying not to knock over the pile of books sitting on the floor that she had towering in stacks for research on her latest article. “Watch the…” He laughed, his head dropping to her breast, the laugh made her body vibrate but the sound made her heart skip, a familiar song reminding her of the man she loved so dear. He looked up at her with a grin on his face. “Sorry, I just have them in order.”

“Do you ever just let go?” He slid a finger into his mouth, letting it glide against his bottom lip. His smile turned up as he slid his hand back under her t-shirt, his moistened fingertip now circling her pert nipple.

Her back arched against his warm hand as she gave into his ministrations. “Fuck it.” She sang, kicking the stack of books over and pressing herself fully into Colin’s hard body. She was done being in control. She felt his smile hot against her neck and she didn’t care if she seemed eager, she was. She had wanted this for so long. So many years of wanting, needing, aching for Colin Bridgerton.

He dragged the shirt over her head, pausing once the fabric was above her. “God you’re beautiful.” She ached to pull her arms over her naked chest, to shield her body from view.

“Don’t do that.” His voice was soft. “Don’t hide from me.” She had never felt so exposed. She never undressed in front of men, always changing in the dark and sliding under blankets in the cover of dark.

“Colin.” She tried to avert her eyes from his honest gaze.

“You’re perfect. You always have been.” He ran his finger lightly against her flesh, taking his time as he slid between the valley of her breast. She shivered and he chuckled low and deep, but his exploration continued as he traveled to the waistband of her pajama pants.

She watched as he bit his lip. It was much the same way he would look at his favorite sweet treat at Sunday morning brunch at their family picnics. He was giddy with excitement. She would watch him and pool with desire simply seeing him take the first bite of the delectable dessert and it made her quiver now with anticipation knowing he wanted to devour her just as badly.

Just the thought of his mouth on her was making her feel feral and she wasn’t sure she could take it much longer with him staring at her. “Please Colin...” She whined.

“Please what?” He demanded.

“I...” Her hips arched into him, pushing his hand closer to where she needed him to be. “I...need...”

“Use your words, love.” His hand pressed against her waist, his fingers sliding under her pants, fingertips brushing against the curly hairs on her mound. “Please what, Pen?” He whispered.

“Touch me.” She came off the floor the moment his fingers found their mark, sliding between her folds, slick and wet. “God, yes.”

“So perfect.” he said softly. His finger slid in slowly and his mouth found hers, their tongues colliding in perfect harmony. She tore her t-shirt away from her body, and greedily moved her hands under his hoodie, feeling his warm skin under her palms, exploring every inch of his chest. When he slipped another finger inside of her, the desire to feel him closer increased. She needed so much more than even she understood in that moment.

She had imagined sex with Colin Bridgerton before, in many different places and ways, dirty, needy, fulfilling. But she had always thought that if it happened, if she would ever have been lucky enough to have him, that she would take her time. She imagined that she would explore him until she had nothing left to uncover.

But in this moment, exposed and bare in the middle of her living room floor, books strewn around them, she wanted nothing more than to feel the full breadth of him filling her until the ache of needing him, the screaming of desire in her brain was silenced.

She didn’t know where her courage came from, God knows she had never found it before, nor had she had it with other men, but in that fleeting thought of her mind, she latched onto it. Pushing him away from her and rolling him onto his back, she took control. “Pen...”

“Not now, I want you.” She smiled down at him as she watched him eagerly tugging his sweatpants down his body. She gulped at the sight of him, erect and full. “Just like that.”

“I see you found your words.” He grinned as she straddled him, sinking her thighs onto either side of his hips, her wet center grinding against his cock and relishing as the smirk fell away from his face and his eyes rolled back with a hiss escaping his mouth. “Fuck.” She leaned over, pressing her hands into his chest and meeting his lips with hers as she slid the length of him. She reached between them, grasping him in hand and slipping him between her legs.

Pushing her other hand against his chest, she lifted herself and sunk down onto his throbbing member, allowing him to fill her completely. “My God!” Her head fell back as his hands came up to grip her breasts, twisting her taut nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

This was everything she had ever imagined and so much more. What was laid out before her was literal porn in the flesh. Colin’s eyes were locked on hers, attentive and passionately taking in her every move. His right hand trailed down her torso, sliding between their bodies as they rocked in motion. His thumb pressed into her tender bundle of nerves making her cry out, grinding her hips hard against him.

“Please Pen...” He begged and she wanted to give him that release, wanted to be the reason for his bliss, wanted to give him every desire he ever needed. She kept his eyes on her, bringing her hand to join his between them, gliding together as she felt herself start to tense. The ecstasy building as he thrust up into her.

“Col...” His name left her lips like a prayer, a sacred promise she would always keep as she felt her release take over and everything she had locked up inside her, all the years she had been holding on to this secret she had withheld from him finally shattered as she screamed his name into the silence of her apartment.

His hands were now on her hips as he bucked up into her with a grunt, a whisper of her name before he relaxed back onto the floor, pulling her down onto his chest as they tumbled together in a tangle of limbs and partially discarded clothing. He pushed a moist strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear, kissing her on the forehead. “God, I love you. That was way better than I imagined.”

She giggled. He pulled back and looked at her. “Hey, I hope that’s a happy laugh and not a ‘gee you were still a shit lay in reality’ laugh.”

She bit her lip and smiled. “Hmm...” His eyes got wide. “I suppose you were ok.”

“Ok?” He scoffed.

She kissed him quickly. “Better than porn.” She whispered against his lips.

“I love you, Pen. Truly.”

“I love you too.” And in that moment, she knew that it was true. It was always going to be Pen and Colin, Colin and Pen, best friends, who were destined to be tied together for life.

#polin #colin bridgerton #penelope x colin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #stacy's fics

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rehfan · 1 year

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Billy knight request….reader x billy in new relationship. Billy is super protective and jealous. They go to their first party together billy gets nervous /jealous because of guy hitting on reader. He causes a scene then panics on their way home thinking he’s ruined their relationship. Reader is not mad at him she is very soft with billy she takes him home and shows him exactly how much he means to her fluffy sweet smut please ***billy definitely has a breeding kink****😊

A/N: My first Billy Knight request and I couldn’t be happier. I love this character so much. Thanks to you @harringtonfan4 for the suggestion - it gripped me by the throat and did not let go. I basically spent 7 hours straight writing this all in one go. Any typos or plot holes are all mine, unintentional, and you can go pick on someone else. Here we go!

Pairing: Billy Knight X Fem!reader; Billy Knight X AFAB!reader

Jealous!Billy Knight; Insecure!Billy Knight

Tags: fluffy, emotional hurt/comfort, jealousy, mental health issues, insecure Billy, minor physical altercation, minor mention of suicide, fluffy smut, smutty smut, blowjob, PIV unprotected sex (PLEASE DO NOT DO THAT - WRAP IT), unintentional edging, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, small instance of choking but not really.

Warnings: minor mention of suicide; small instance of choking but not really; Under 18? Move on, please. I did not write this for you.

Please do not repost this anywhere else. This is my work and mine alone.

Word Count: 7200+

Knight in Shining Armor

You knew that you were the first major relationship Billy had ever attempted besides having schoolboy crushes on girls, sneaking kisses and holding hands and such, but nothing ever meant anything. He was in his mid-20s and should have had plenty of girlfriends before you, but due to a childhood trauma, he was debilitated and emotionally injured and needed time to heal. At least, that’s how he put it to you when you met and started dating him.

You bumped into him in the frozen foods section, dropping your frozen potato wedges when you turned and saw him there holding the freezer door open for you. He hadn’t meant to startle you, of course and looked so painfully shy and fearful about scaring you that it broke your heart a little. It had been months since your last relationship and while you weren’t looking for something new, you had a good feeling about him and told him that he could make up startling you by buying you a coffee from the station at the front of the store. He was happy to do it and that’s when it all began.

He was tender and caring, thoughtful and kind, and didn’t seem to have the same agenda that all your other blokes had had - mainly getting into your knickers. He seemed amazed to just have your friendship. And as far as Billy was concerned, that’s exactly how he felt. He didn’t see the sense in lying to you about anything, but he was terrified that you’d reject him. According to his logic, it was better to tell you up front about his institutionalization and mental problems; that way, you could push him away before he had a chance to fall head over heels in love with you.

But you didn’t push him away. Especially after he explained about the support system he had in place: his few friends who were also his flat mates and his psychiatrist, his medication, and his dedication to being a proper man in the world - one that could hold down a job and pay bills. He was on a good road. The only part of his life that was incomplete was having someone to share his life with.

His big brown eyes looked soulfully into yours when he confessed all this. It was your third date and things had been going well. He was in charge of choosing the location for this one and he chose a picnic at the dog park. He didn’t own a dog (one of his flat mates was allergic) but he liked them and he had made a few friends among the dog owners that came there. He smiled secretively at you as he produced a resealable plastic sandwich bag of dog treats and jiggled them.

“My secret way of making canine friends,” he said, looking almost embarrassed at his cleverness.

You couldn’t help but laugh. The whole day was perfect, even after Billy’s confession about his history. You explained that you had an uncle that was bipolar and had to be sent away for a while when you were a child. You knew something was wrong with him, but you were too small to understand what. But when he came out, he was his old self again and better. You have valued psychiatry and psychology ever since and you were entirely supportive of Billy and deeply grateful for his honesty.

In your second month of dating Billy you were both headed to a party thrown by old friends of yours. You had met each other in uni and had stayed in touch and you wanted to introduce Billy to them all as you were fiercely proud of him and his strides toward living his own life as his own man.

“We don’t have to stay for long, if you don’t want,” you explained as you walked up the path to the door, “If things get too much, you tell me the word and we’ll dash.”

“What word?” Billy asked, rubbing his nose, “And what will we say as an excuse? Won’t they be suspicious? Won’t they think me rude?”

“Hardly,” you said, placing a reassuring arm around his. You planted your chin in his shoulder and looked up at him. “I’ll do the explaining. And the word will be something you pick. What word would you like to whisper to me if you feel overwhelmed?”

Billy looked at his surroundings for a minute, his eyes darting about him. “Um, how about ‘cardinal’?”

You giggled. “‘Cardinal’?” Your eyes found what his had: in one of the front windows was a decorative hanging made of stained glass and containing a red bird of that name. “Oh I see. ‘Cardinal’ it is then. Excellent choice.” You kissed him on the cheek and rang the bell.

Billy was overwhelmed almost instantly. This wasn’t the small gathering that he was expecting - only three or four friends from your uni days - this was a gathering of well over twenty people. The conversation was a cacophony in the place and people seemed to be everywhere, sitting on furniture, standing in small groups, and even sitting on the floor around the low coffee table. Everyone had a drink and Billy was tempted to drown his panic in a G&T, but he knew he couldn’t with his meds. When the hostess greeted him with a slightly drunken kiss on either of his cheeks and offered to take his coat, he gave it over mechanically, his brain still reeling from the sensory overload.

You took his hand and whispered, “You okay, love? You look spooked.”

“So far so good,” he said unconvincingly, but he squeezed your hand and gave you a tight smile. He was going to try his best for you. You were the miracle of his life and he wasn’t about to lose you over his own feeble insecurities screaming their little heads off.

They screamed even louder when they saw all the men in the room greet you warmly. Most of them had other females standing by who were introduced as girlfriends and partners or wives and that was all fine as far as Billy was concerned, but the few who weren’t attached to anyone? Billy felt his hackles rise protectively as they snaked their hands around your waist in hugs of greeting.

The powerful jealously that reared its ugly head inside of him hit him sideways with its strength. He wanted to rip their arms away from you, smash their smiling faces with his fist, then run from the place with you hauled over his shoulder caveman-style. He knew he couldn’t, that he mustn’t. It wasn’t right. They were old friends and you were allowed to have old friends. And when you looked back at him with that beautiful smile and squeezed his hand and introduced him as your boyfriend even though you were only on your second month of dating, it caused sunshine to bloom in his heart and he smiled back at you and shook their hands and was so damned proud to be yours.

As the evening wore on, Billy was never far from you, but soon relaxed enough to seat himself across the room from you as you talked with your friends, occasionally turning to him to include him in the conversation. Your female friends seemed to like him, like his shy nature. Your male friends discussed the latest footy match with him and Billy found himself contributing to the conversation almost effortlessly. He couldn’t wait to tell Dr. Hammond, his psychiatrist, all about this little social adventure. Billy was sure he would be pleased.

It wasn’t until Billy had gone to refresh your drink that Toby walked up to you while you stood in the empty corridor that ran the length of the home and provided access between the main rooms on the ground floor of the house. You had just pointed him the way toward the kitchen at the rear of the building and turned to go back to the sitting room at the front of the house when Toby’s voice came from behind you.

“Thought he’d never leave,” he said.

You sighed and turned slowly back to him. “And there it is: that low voice you have that you always thought was seductive enough to charm birds from trees. I was wondering when you were going to make your move,” you said.

Toby was an old flame. One you had doused with enough water to flood whole valleys in the Yorkshire Dales years back. Still, Toby tried. It was pathetic really.

“And what makes you think it never has?” he said. He had had too much alcohol. It was obvious.

“You’re drunk, Tobes,” you said, giving his chest a gentle shove, “Please just leave me alone, okay? Billy-“

“Billy is a ponce and a welcome mat,” he said. “Wherever did you find him anyway? At the pound? Those big brown puppy dog eyes of his worm his way into your little heart?” Here he put a finger on your chest and pressed the flesh softly.

“He’s a good man,” you said. “Better than you ever learned to be.”

“Still angry about that? It was ages ago! And I’ve mended my ways: I only date one woman at a time now. No more cheating.” Here he crossed his heart. “Promise.”

“Once a cheater, always a cheater,” you retorted and turned your head, looking over his shoulder at where Billy had disappeared. You shouldn’t have asked him for a mixed drink. He was too insecure to bring you anything but perfection in a glass and he was taking ages. A thought occurred to you just as Toby’s head was angling down toward yours: “Besides, I thought you and Belinda were an item. Whatever happened to her?”

“Oh you’ll love the irony in this,” he said laughing, “She cheated on me.” You couldn’t help but gasp and laugh. He nodded. “Yep. With her yoga-slash-pilates instructor, no less.” You laughed again, even harder. He went on: “Apparently strength, stamina, and flexibility were what she was really looking for.”

You put a shameful hand over your mouth as you continued to laugh at what must have been a rude awakening for this lothario. “Well,” you managed, recovering a little, “I’d say ‘poor you’, but you sort of deserve it, you bastard.”

He responded by wrapping you up in a hug. “You mean you don’t feel the least bit sorry for me?”

“I don’t,” said Billy.

The hug broke apart and the two of you stood there staring at Billy who was staring daggers at Toby.

“I don’t feel sorry for you at all,” said Billy again. He passed you your drink without even looking at you. “And I’ll tell you another thing, mate,” the word dripped with anger, “You had better stay away from my girlfriend or I swear to Christ on high-“

“Billy!” you interjected.

“- I’ll… I’ll…”

Toby regained some of his smugness. “Or you’ll what? Scold me to death?” He laughed.

Billy shoved him hard against the corridor wall. It shook the picture frames.

“Just-“ Billy’s nervous tic of rubbing his nose with his wrist came back viciously in that moment. He was so agitated that it frightened you. “J-just keep away.”

You grabbed Billy by the arm and turned him toward you. “Cardinal,” you said. There must have been a look in your eyes, because Billy just nodded and looked instantly ashamed. He glanced back at Toby who had pulled himself away from the wall and was straightening his blazer jacket.

“Fine man you have there, pet,” he said to you. “Don’t suppose he’s had his distemper shots?”

Billy didn’t think, he just swung. His left fist connected with the side of Toby’s head and Toby stumbled back and fell into an unoccupied overstuffed chair in the hallway. “Fuck off, you cunt,” Billy growled.

Others had caught sight of this and were now populating the open doorways that led to the corridor you three were standing in. You looked around apologetically while tugging at Billy’s sleeve. Your eyes came across your hostess. “Gillian, I’m so sorry. I expect we’re just a bit knackered. We’ll call it a night, okay?”

All your friends smiled understandingly at you and wished you both a good night, turning back to their previous conversations. Billy put his coat and hat on silently near the front door when Gillian whispered a quiet word to you: “Hang on to that one, love. No man in this building has had the guts to smack the shit out of Toby the way he deserves. Good on him for doing what they couldn’t.” She winked at you and walked back to her guests.

You were quietly proud of Billy all over again as you made your way home. Gill’s home and yours were only about a mile apart and it seemed silly to hop a bus when the winter night in London was mild and you were with Billy, defender of your honor.

Billy, on the other hand, was eating himself up with guilt over his behavior. Dr. Hammond would definitely not think that this was a successful social interaction. Billy’s hand went to his nose again and he idly added up when it would be safe to take his meds again; he felt as if the chemicals that kept his brain untangled were wearing off.

He kept up a walking pace with you and tried to meet your eyes, but he was fearful of reaching out to take your hand and didn’t want to say anything to you lest you turn on him in anger and leave him on the spot, alone and lonely again in the middle of London. In the dark. In the cold. On his own. Again.

So he hugged himself and waited for you to say that he was never to see you again. But as the streets passed and you didn’t say anything, he wondered when it was going to happen. Or should he just throw himself in front of a night bus?

Or should he argue his side? After all, the man had his hands all over you! What was he expected to do when you introduced him as your boyfriend to everyone there? Was he just supposed to watch you laughing and joking with him and having him hug you and snuggle up to you when he’s supposed to be your one and only? Or is that what you wanted? Did you want Toby and not him? Was he the man you were waiting for? Did you bring him to the party to show off in front of Toby just to make him jealous? What did you want? What did he need to do? How could he fix this so you liked him again?

You turned away and toward the door of your building. You were home already. The mile walk had disappeared.

Billy shuffled his feet and didn’t meet your eyes as you held the door open. “Coming in?”

Billy shook his head and viciously wiped his nose against his wrist.

“Billy?” you said, your voice was so soft he looked up. His eyes were brimming with unfallen tears. “I’m not angry, you know,” you said.

He blinked at this and two fat tears streamed down his cheeks and into his beard. He didn’t bother to wipe them. “You’re not?” he managed.

You let the door close behind you as you made your way to him. “No, my love,” you said. You raised a hand to his face and wiped a tear away with your thumb. “If anything, I’m glad. It’s about time someone took a poke at Toby for all his machismo. I’m glad it was you.” You smiled at him.

Disbelief painted his face. “You are?”

You had to laugh. “Of course! He was a bastard to me when we dated years ago at uni. Cheated with this one and that. Always put me in second - and sometimes third - place. He deserved what he got.”

“And all your friends?”

“Gillian whispered to me just before we left that she was happy you did it,” you said. “I’m pretty sure that at least three other women at that party and two of the guys were happy too. You acted perfectly - if only slightly criminally.”

“So…,” started Billy, only beginning to wrap his head around the whole situation, “You’re happy? With me? With what I did?”

“Yes,” you said, “and as a matter of fact, I’d like to give you a small reward for defending my honor, my “Knight” in shining armor.”

Billy smiled at this. “Like what?”

“Come with me, good sir knight.”

You led him up the two flights of stairs to the flat you shared with two other girls. They were flight attendants and were hardly ever home. But they paid their rent on time and you all got along when they were home, so the situation was ideal for you all. This was the week that they weren’t around - one scoring the famous NY-LON flight and the other was off on a three week placement out of Sydney, Australia. You had the whole place to yourself for the next week.

Your room was at the back with two windows and a queen sized bed that almost didn’t make it in the lift when you first moved in. Of course, you paid more in rent for the biggest of the three bedrooms, but it was totally worth it.

You led Billy in and turned on the light at one of the two bedside tables. It cast a soft glow on you both as you took Billy’s coat from him followed by his jumper and shirt beneath.

You were on him with a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Billy’s head reeled with the sensation of you dipping your tongue in his mouth. He didn’t know where to put his hands, so let them rest on your hips gingerly as if you were made of spun glass. His cock shifted in his pants and he felt himself blush.

You broke the kiss with a wet smack and, a bit breathless, whispered, “If you want me to stop any of this at any point, we use the same word, okay? Do you remember it?”

“‘Cardinal’,” he said.

“Good boy,” you said, arching a salacious eyebrow at him. He smiled back at you, amazed that you were in his arms and that he was in your bedroom. His cock couldn’t believe his luck either and made another twitching lurch.

Your right hand glided down to his left hand and held it up, inspecting the knuckles. They were a bit red, but the skin wasn’t broken. “Does it hurt?” you asked. He shook his head wordlessly, eyes big as you kissed the ridge of each of his fingers and then the knuckles themselves. You looked up at him: “My hero.”

Hero? He was your hero? Really? Billy’s heart swelled in his chest and he knew he was smiling stupidly at you, but he couldn’t help it. You were kissing him again then and his hands fell respectfully back to your hips. Your hands, however, were ranging all over his exposed skin: shoulders, arms, the back of his neck and along his hairline, smoothing into his chest hair, until finally trailing fingertips downward to his belt. Alarm ran through Billy as he felt his cock twitch again and grow hard.

The chinking of the metal belt clasp joined the sound of you kissing him and you moaned with want. He leaned his pelvis away from you, his breath stuttering and his hands stopping your movements.

“What’s the word, Billy? Do you want to say the word? The one that stops everything?” you asked.

He stared into your face for a moment, frozen. Did he want this to stop? Was he brave enough to continue? He needed more information. “What are you… planning?” he asked. “What do you want me to do… to you?”

You smiled softly. “I’m planning on pleasuring you. I’m planning that you’re going to come. That you’re going to have a brilliant orgasm and sleep soundlessly in my bed until morning. And I’m planning to make you breakfast in bed.

“And,” you continued, “I’m wanting you to do anything you want to me. Just ask first, okay?”

Billy nodded.

“So are we stopping? Are you using your word?” you asked.

Billy shook his head.

“Then let’s start again, only slower. Does that sound all right?” Billy nodded. “What do you want me to do to you?”

You watched him as he swallowed hard and his ears got pink. Jesus God, he was adorable. You were used to men just manhandling their way into your bed, seeking out their own pleasure with your body, never worrying that you might not be totally enjoying yourself. This was new territory for both of you, it seemed.

“Can we just kiss for a bit?” he said. He seemed almost painfully ashamed to ask.

You smiled. How could you not? He was the gentlest man you had ever been with. Your hand went to his face and you kissed him softly, almost reverently, quietly thanking a God you almost didn’t believe in for sending you this amazing man. As the kiss broke, your faces were inches apart and you took the time to really look at each other.

He was fascinated by your face. Your eyes especially. The shape of your nose. The curve of your ear. Even your eyebrows were perfect and he smoothed one with the tip of his first finger, tracing it down and over to your ear and watching with breathless amazement as you pressed your face into the palm of his hand and closed your eyes. “Love me, Billy,” you whispered.

“Yes,” he whispered back and kissed you on his own this time, one hand to your face, the other wrapping around to the small of your back, both of you moaning into the sensation.

You tried to move closer to him, but he kept his pelvis away from you. Your hands found his ass and pulled him gently toward you, encouraging him to not be ashamed or embarrassed. When his hard cock came into contact with you, he whined and broke the kiss, gasping for breath.

“Was that not all right?” you asked, fearful that you had spooked him.

“That- that was- um,” his hand went to his nose again. You took it away from his face gently with both of your hands and kissed his wrist. Then you took his face in one of your hands and kissed his nose.

“I’m sorry if I went too far,” you said. “But Billy, I know you must be hard. I can see that you are.” You both looked down at his trousers where a very obvious tenting was taking place. You met his eyes again. “I’m not scared if you’re not scared.”

If Billy was honest, he wasn’t scared so much as he was terrified. He wanted to do well with you. He wanted to please you so badly his skin itched with it.

“Why don’t we get your first orgasm out of the way and… that might help?” you suggested. “You know, help with your nerves? What do you think?”

“Oh… okay,” he said, a bit confused.

You stripped off your top and bra and dropped to your knees on the soft shag area rug and made quick work of his button and flies. Billy hardly had any time to react when you placed your mouth along his clothed length and exhaled warm air against his member. The wanton groan that exited his mouth was everything you ever wanted to hear. “You just use your word if you need to, my sweet boy. And remember: I want to give you this. You deserve a blowjob for all you’ve done tonight.”

Your fingertips caressed his length as you spoke to him. He gasped when you lowered his pants and his cock sprang free. He was gorgeous. A light brown thatch of hair from his belly button to his shaft called for your fingertips to card through it. You kissed and sucked at the line between abdomen and thigh, teasing sighs and gasps from him. Praise fell from your lips as you scattered kisses along his lower belly and upper thighs: “Such a good man to me, Billy. So kind and gentle. Always so good. You want me to suck you off, don’t you, darling? You’ve wanted me for a long time now. Whole weeks! And now you have me. And this is all for you. For being my brave knight in shining armor.”

You lifted his cock out of the way with one hand and dipped your head to take his balls in your mouth, one and then the other, sucking softly as you did. You placed the surface of your lips against his scrotum and hummmmmmmed against his skin in the lowest tone you could manage. Billy groaned and threw his head back. His cock leaked with precum instantly, the tip swollen practically cherry red. You pulled his foreskin back even more and held your tongue out to catch the drip, locking eyes with Billy as you did so.

Helpless. That was the only word for the expression on Billy’s face in that moment as the precum hit your tongue and you licked up against it, trying to catch it all. Salty musk met your senses and you grunted. “Want to take you in my mouth, Billy. May I? Can I do that to you?” Billy nodded. “No no, love. Use words. Tell me you want this.”

“I want… you to… please. Please. I can’t say… exactly. I can’t. But please. Yes. Please.”

“Good boy,” you said, “That’s my good boy. Here we go. You let me know when you’re close, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Slowly, you took him in your mouth, the hot heaviness of his erection against your tongue, the scent of him deep and thick. You had to use one hand against him because he was just too thick and long for you to deep throat until you found your stride. You hadn’t done this for a while, but it wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Some things remained the same like the sensitive frenulum under the head of his cock. You pulled off of him just long enough to press your lips there and hummmmmmm again, low and long and Billy’s head reeled at the sensation.

He watched as your mouth swallowed his length again and he could hardly believe he was standing there with his pants around his ankles and your mouth on his cock. Beautiful you, with your smile and laughing eyes. Lovely you, who was always tender toward him. Loyal you, who wasn’t angry with him for hitting your old friend - who wasn’t quite a friend after all.

Unbelievably, you were sucking his cock and enjoying it.

He placed a hand in your hair, not pushing precisely, but just holding you there and you raised your free hand to it, rubbing small encouraging circles into the back of his hand.

You pulled off him with a wet pop and stroked him. “Happy, baby?” you asked.

“God yes,” he replied, that same look of amazement on his face.

“You want more?” you asked, knowing full well what his answer was going to be. You just needed to hear him say it.

“Yes, p-please. More, love,” he said, desperation dripping from him.

You went back to work, your tongue circling his tip before swallowing him down once more with a moan. He tasted so good. Thick and long and right against your tongue, you could suck his cock into oblivion. His hand pressed against your head a bit more urgently, so you followed his lead, increasing your pace and taking just that bit much more into your mouth as you could.

Saliva coated your hand and dripped from your mouth onto your chest, but you didn't care. It was worth it all to hear Billy moaning above you. His breath stuttering in his chest was all you ever needed. He was surprisingly vocal too, his muttered words of praise finding your grateful ears.

“Fucking suck me so good, love. You are so goddamned beautiful. Don’t deserve you. So fucking good to me. Your mouth… God your mouth… I just… Ah!”

Here he stopped talking and the hand that was on the back of your head found your jaw and pulled you gently off of him. “Can’t let you… Can’t. I- I’m sorry.”

“You can’t let me what, Billy?” you said, a little hurt that he wouldn’t let you get him off. “I was all right.” You stroked his cock to keep him hard as you spoke, but Billy even put a stop to that by pushing your hand away.

“No, no,” he shook his head violently. “Can’t come in your mouth. Need to come in you… Just - in you.”

“Oh.”

“Please?” his eyes held such longing. He gripped his hard cock at the base and you could see he was edging himself down away from his own orgasm. “Please let me?”

You knew better. You really did. But you were on birth control and you knew he was clear because you both traded that information ages ago. And, more importantly, you wanted him. You wanted him right then and there, naked and gripping his own erection begging you to let him fuck you.

Lord preserve us, you were really going to do this.

“Come here,” you said. “And take off the rest of your clothes.” You did the same, stripping yourself of all layers until you stood naked before him. You held out your arms and he filled them instantly.

The kiss you shared tasted of both of you plus the traces of the taste of his cock still present in your mouth. Your hands found his ass and squeezed, his hard cock pressing into you causing him to groan.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered. “Want you so bad.”

“Come to bed then,” you said. You were so damn wet in that moment, it wasn’t funny. Just looking at the way he looked at you, all amazement and reverence, it was too much to take in. His eyes held the universe and all you could see in them was your own reflection. It left you breathless.

He came into your bed after you crawled in beneath the duvet first. His warm body buffeted yours and his kiss heated you up from within, the curl of desire dwelling low in your belly and building slowly with every lick of his tongue. You rolled together, him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his hips, his thick hardness between your legs, tip tickling your ass right near your entrance.

Billy shuddered with the sensation of being so close yet so far away. “C-can I? Please, sweet girl? Please, pretty? May I?” He reached down and positioned himself at your entrance.

“Oh,” you moaned. “Clit first please. Right here.” You guided his hand so that his cock was lying between your folds.

He rutted against you with a snap of his hips and you both cried out. Billy’s forehead was buried in the crook of your neck as he satisfied his need for contact along your wet valley, the veiny ridges of his shaft dancing along your clit and building you to your climax.

His head lifted as you came, cries pouring from your mouth, cries that he put there, emotions that he caused, all of that for him. He could barely believe it. He almost came from watching you.

Gently he brushed the hair from your forehead. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. He stilled when you did, but you could still tell that he was achingly hard. He would need his release soon. Fortunately, you still wanted more.

You kissed him fiercely, sucking on his lower lip before releasing him. “On your back, boy,” you commanded in a low growl. His brown eyes went wide and he obeyed immediately, taking you with him.

You sat up and dangled your breasts over his mouth. “Suck on them, you beautiful man. Sweet boy.” He took you in his mouth and suckled gently, eyes closed, lost in the moment. You braced one hand on the headboard, your other hand carded through his hair and caressed his face. He looked so content.

Billy still couldn’t believe what was happening. The whole situation seemed like a fever dream. The day he met you, he had gone home on cloud nine. That night he had dreamed of holding your hand and maybe even kissing you, but this? This was more than he ever dared hope. His hands smoothed up and down and up again over your back as he sucked on your nipple, eventually one wrapping around the opposite breast and the other snaking between your legs to rub your clit once more. He wasn’t entirely certain of the exact anatomy, but he knew when he found it based on your gasp. There he circled his fingertips and knuckles against the nubbin and watched you through the slits of his eyes as you craned your neck back and then forward again, your hips undulated against him again. You were pornography come to life. And he was doing this to you. Just him, no one else.

It was a miracle. You were a miracle.

He switched to the other breast now, nuzzling underneath it, experimenting with nipping, licking, and sucking at the tender skin, listening to your delighted giggle, eventually swallowing your nipple once more, flicking it with his tongue and eliciting the most delicious moans from you as a result. His hands had traded places too and the wonderful friction he was providing for you was intoxicating. He was running on pure instinct and you were too, your hips lost to a primal rhythm against his hand. You could feel things starting to build again and you urged Billy to keep on doing exactly what he was doing.

“Gonna come again, Billy,” you panted. “Just…Fuck! Keep going, baby. Almost….God! Shit!” You cried out again, your climax washing over you as you rode his hand. Come dripped from you and over his hand; you knew you were a mess down there, but you didn’t care. As you sat up against his cock, he hissed with the contact and subconsciously raised his hand to his mouth. There he tasted you for the first time and his dark eyes blew wide.

Billy sucked on his knuckle and closed his eyes, relishing your flavor. When he finally slowly opened his eyes, you pulled his fist away and kissed him, sealing the taste of yourself - above and below - in his mind forever.

Slowly, achingly, you lowered yourself against his cock, never breaking your kiss. His hand went down to guide himself along and inside you. You were so slick and wet, his cock tip slipped inside you with a smooth squeezing thump that was felt rather than heard. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

Relaxing against the pressure, you allowed your body to accommodate his girth slowly, a sweet burn giving way to a sense of fullness that left you wanting more, to run deeper inside of you. As you slowly fell against every inch of him, he watched in fascination as he disappeared inside of you, resisting the overwhelming urge to pump his hips up into you, bracing against the moment when you would allow it by planting his feet on the mattress, knees bent.

When you bottomed out, you both stilled, your breath filling the room. You felt so right, smiling down at Billy, his adoring eyes on you, his hands on your breasts, slowly kneading the tissue, warm and comforting and…right. This is how it should be and you could stand a lifetime more of this.

“Welcome home, love,” you cooed. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“You’re a miracle,” he said. “My miracle.”

Your heart melted. Tears welled up in your eyes and your hands found his. As you bent to kiss him, he slipped partly out of you and you rocked back against him, trailing your mouth against his, capturing his lip or his tongue here and there as you ground against him, feeling the pressure of him inside of you. Changing the angle, you sat up again and rolled your hips, your whole body undulating, slipping against his length and just hitting that sweet spongy spot inside you that made you gasp and crave more and more and more…

Billy watched you move, his hands slipping to your hips, his legs lifting against you, pressing up into you in the rhythm you set. It was sweet, slow, and sensual, the way love making was supposed to be in movies and books. You were truly unbelievable and he was really here, really seeing, hearing, and touching you. He was the cause of all the sweat on your body, that fine sheen that caused your skin to glow in the low lamplight. He was the cause of your low moans, your two previous orgasms - not to mention the third one that was building in you now. Riding his cock, fulfilling his dreams.

His own climax was building now, not that it hadn’t been over and over again. The image of you on your knees in front of him was seared into his eyelids forever. The sensation of your hot mouth on the tip of his cock was a memory to savor for a lifetime. You coming all over his hands and the heady salty taste of you would linger on his tongue until the day he died. But this? The wanton image of you riding his cock, head knocked back, hands gripping his knees behind you, abandoned to the sensation coursing through you… this was magic. This he would want to re-create over and over again, trying to replicate it, improve on it, and ultimately replace this memory with others, multiplying and multiplying over and over until the end of time.

He imagined busting his nut inside you, spraying your walls down with his spunk, fucking you like he was trying to breed you - and that’s when he felt his balls tighten. Chasing the sensation, he confessed: “Want to cover you in my come. Want to fuck you into oblivion. Want to mate with you and fill you with my babies. Shit!”

Your eyes flew wide at this. “You want to fuck me like a stud stallion, my brilliant boy? Like I’m a brood mare? Take me from behind? You want to rail into me, huh?”

An absolutely feral look came across Billy’s face at this. “You’d let me?”

“I’d beg you to,” you smiled, slipping off of him and turning around. He was on his knees behind you in seconds, pushing himself back into you, one hand on your hip, the other on your shoulder.

He leaned in close when you moaned and arched against him. He whispered, “I’m going to fuck you right through this mattress, beautiful girl.”

You turned toward him and nipped at his lips, one hand passing behind his head into his hair. “Yes please, sir knight. Please take me and breed me and spend yourself inside me.” He turned his head so his ear was at your mouth. “Need it, Billy. Need you,” you whined. “Make me yours.”

Billy didn’t need more encouragement than that. He settled back and started slowly, carefully, but soon gave in to his baser desires urged on by your lascivious whining, keening, and moaning. He fucked you hard, slamming against your cervix and, after a small positioning change of angle, that delicious sweet spot inside you. When he saw you reach for your clit, he brushed your hand aside. If you were going to come again, it was going be because of him. Only him.

You were his. His to fuck and to breed and he was lost to the thought of it all. His balls tightened again, all the edging he had been doing had been driving him mad, but now he got to just ride you into it. Slamming into you over and over and over had you oversensitive in moments. His small tight circles over your clit had you seeing stars. But his words left you helpless.

“Mine? You’re really all mine? Mine to fuck? And kiss? And love? You want this? All of this? Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“Want you, Billy. All of you. Fuck me, love. Fuck me straight through this mattress. Need you, Billy. My hero. My knight. Please.”

His free hand was on your throat, pulling you upward ever so slightly, your back arching. his hips snapping up inside you. His breath was in your ear, stuttering and whining as he came hard inside you. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Over and over he told you what you were to him, each word stamped into you with the thrust of his hips. Your orgasm followed shortly afterward, burning from the insides where his cock was smacking your sweet center and you felt yourself come all over it, thickly flowing inside you and dribbling down your thighs.

You cried out and sobbed, coming down hard into the soft duvet, feeling his hands smooth down your sides and over your back as he sat up and drew himself out of you. You could hear him panting as he pulled you up at your waist and flipped you back to the head of the bed, resting your head on one of the pillows. He lay beside and behind you, spooning you from behind, his arms under your head, the other around your waist, hand on your belly.

He was terrified again. Scared about what he had said to you in the passion of the moment. He wondered if you wanted him to leave. He waited.

You leaned back into him, smiling. “That was amazing, Billy.” Turning your head, you reached back for him and he brought his face to yours. You kissed him lightly. “You are amazing.” You took his lips and felt his tongue tentative against yours as he lost himself in the kiss. Your hand found the back of his head, encouraging him deeper, moaning when he took the hint. “Make love to me again in the morning?” you asked.

Billy was breathless again. “Y-you don’t want me to go?” he asked.

Huffing a laugh, you had to ask: “Now why would I want to kick you out of this bed?”

“Dunno… I just thought… that now that we finished…”

You turned your whole body to face him. “Pay attention to what I’m about to tell you and realize that it is the unvarnished truth, okay?” Billy nodded, eyes wide. “Billy Knight, I adore you. And that was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had in my life. I am not kicking you out. In fact, the only reason I would ever kick you out of bed would be to fuck you on the floor. Understand me?”

Billy’s smile grew slowly but soon bloomed into a full ear-to-ear grin. He giggled. “You really are mine? Even only after two month’s worth of dates?”

“Hey,” you retorted, “I know a good thing when I see it.” Lightly you kissed him on the nose. “Now get some sleep, pretty boy. I have breakfast to cook for you in the morning.”

#billy knight strike #billy knight x reader #Billy Knight #joe quinn #joseph quinn #fanfic #writing #writing prompt #fluff #smut #@harringtonfan4

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