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sinner-as-saint · 19 days

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the alchemy

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Run-through: About a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart?

Themes: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, angst, mob!bucky, metal arm, fluff, smut, possessive!bucky, childhood friends-to-enemies-to-lovers trope, bratty!reader, mentions of violence, explicit language, slow burn-ish, HEA

a/n: new mob!bucky pics dropped–

“I do.” You said in a sombre voice, with blood dripping from the cut on your lip as you sealed your fate and married your worst enemy.

Bucky’s face was bleeding too, your nails had done some damage earlier when you both got into a physical altercation like wild animals. You nearly smirked when you realised he looked worse than you did.

Then again you both looked like you went through hell as you stood here, at this makeshift altar, in the middle of what used to be the foyer of your father’s mansion before Bucky and his men shot at it until it was nothing but rubble, broken glass, and cracked marble.

Messy hair. Cuts and bruises all over your bodies. Dishevelled clothes. Your white jumpsuit had your own bloodstains on it, and his all black suit was torn in certain places. But he looked every bit the man they say he is. Dangerous. Cold, dark presence. The large bruise on his jaw was beginning to get darker now, thanks to the many punches from you. His near shoulder length hair was surprisingly looking neat. It pissed you off.

You looked like a mess too. And for a brief second, as his blue eyes looked down at your throat, you knew he could see a matching bruise forming around your neck from when he’d pinned you down to the floor earlier with that damned metal arm.

No one was dead, none of your people and none of his. Thankfully. But right now, as you married the man standing in front of you, you felt dead inside.

“You may now kiss the bride.” Was all you heard and you remained still as Bucky grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him.

You resisted for a moment, but then he pulled you harder until your chests collided and you had no choice but to remain pressed against him. “I’m tired of these games, princess.” He hissed in a lowered voice, looking down at you with his merciless blue eyes.

You stared back at him with equal contempt. “You’re gonna regret this, Barnes.” You sneered, in a hushed voice. Not that the injured family members and men surrounding you – both his men and your father’s guards who stood and watched the show in disbelief and shock would mind the disrespect for each other in both your tones – but you didn’t want to add to the ridiculousness of this situation.

“Oh?” He taunted with a faint smirk. Only then did you notice the small cut on his upper lip. It brought you a little solace. “You’re my wife now, you will do as I say.”

The bitterness in your tone matched his as you said, “We’ll see about that, husband.”

You could tell he’d accepted the unspoken challenge, and he would do anything to win. After all, everything was a game to Bucky Barnes. He didn’t care who he used, who he manipulated, or who he tossed aside. He paraded around like he owned this world and everything and everyone in it.

Bucky scoffed then leaned in to kiss you, hard. It wasn’t a loving kiss in any way. It was possessive though. Like he was putting on a show for whoever was watching, making sure everyone in this dilapidated room understood that you were his now.

You kissed him back, angrily. You despised him. Your entire family did. But they couldn’t save you this time. Bucky’s attack was unexpected. Your guards were unprepared. You were the last line of defence and this… union was necessary. You had to offer something, anything. Otherwise Bucky and his guys threatened to burn down your half of the city and turned it to ash immediately.

But it wasn’t always like this. Your families used to be allies. You actually grew up with Bucky, he tolerated you enough back then and you had always had a crush on him.

Then that night happened almost a decade ago…

It was your twentieth birthday party, and your father made an announcement which you were not ready for.

He announced to the ballroom filled with important people that you were to marry Bucky, and that both families were beyond happy to transform their friendship into something more solid through this alliance.

You remained frozen in place for long minutes after that announcement was made, even though your heart raced like never before. No one had told you about this, but judging by the way your family hugged and congratulated Bucky’s family you understood that this was all planned.

You kept that smile on your face though, as people walked over to congratulate you. You looked around and tried to find Bucky in the crowd to see if he knew about this but he was nowhere to be found.

You were certain he was here just a moment ago, leaning against one of the pillars and brooding as always. And he’d just disappeared.

The announcement made your heart flutter incessantly. After all, you’d always had a huge crush on Bucky. How could you not? He was the boy you grew up around, he had pretty eyes and nice hair. Sure he was broody and rarely ever smiled but you liked how it suited his bad boy personality. And your young heart was weak for the handsome boy with tattoos and blue eyes.

After people were done congratulating you, you discretely walked out of the party and decided to look around and try to find Bucky. You hated how giddy you were. Sure, Bucky was broody and rarely ever laughed. He spent his entire time glaring at you then getting jealous when you talked to other guys. But you had liked him since forever.

You looked all over your father’s mansion. Bucky was nowhere to be found indoors. So… maybe the pool area outside? You started walking in that direction, feeling like a princess in your white ball gown as you walked down an empty hallway, a faint smile on your face as you looked for the man you were meant to marry soon.

Maybe Bucky knew about this announcement. Maybe he was okay with it. Maybe this would be your fairytale in real life, you thought. Maybe you’d melt his frozen heart and everything would be perfect. Maybe he liked you back all along and you just never knew!

“...marry her?”

Your smile vanished as you stopped right before you stepped outside onto the patio. Was that Bucky’s voice? Was he talking to someone? You quietly stepped closer, hiding behind the plants as you tried your hardest to listen to what he was saying.

You could see him, standing on the black tiles by the pool. He had his back to you, and he held a phone to his ear. His broad shoulders and lean waist accentuated by how well that black suit moulded to his muscular body. You watched as he ran his fingers through his short black hair in frustration.

Who was he talking to?

“No!” He barked at the phone. “Did you not listen to what I just said? I don’t want to do this!” He yelled, not bothering that anyone around might hear him. “I tried to talk them out of it! This is so fucking stupid!”

You blinked in surprise, unable to process what you were hearing.

“I don’t care what I have to do, but I will not marry her.” He said with enough venomous certitude that a silent tear fell down your face.

All your previous delusions turned to nothing but heavy disappointment. It made you feel stupid. This gown felt stupid. The diamonds around your neck, around your wrists and in your hair felt stupid. How stupid of you to think this was all going to end well? How stupid of you to think your childhood crush actually meant something? How stupid of you to think that there was a chance he liked you back? Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t have ignored you for years if he did.

You couldn’t stop the sudden sob that escaped your mouth. Afraid that he might have heard, you took a few steps back and hid behind a nearby, tall potted shrub.

Things were quiet for a moment or two. You heard him whispering so quietly you couldn’t make out what he said. Your face burned in embarrassment at the thought of him finding you here. You already felt stupid and childish, you didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping in this situation.

But then he resumed talking on the phone. You couldn’t risk moving to look at him so you remained hiding, and listened. Your heart broke with each word that left his mouth.

“And she’s so blind she doesn’t even see it.” He hissed, louder this time. “I barely tolerate her. Her whiny, and bratty attitude. I mean she’s a grown woman and still acts like she’s daddy’s little princess.” He scoffed. “You should’ve seen her today, she looks like a kid’s toy with that ridiculous dress on.”

More tears streamed down your face as you heard nothing but distaste and irritation in his voice. This was the boy you had a hopeless crush on? This is what he thought of you?

You didn’t need to hear more. This was more than enough to completely break you so you turned around and quietly walked back down the same hallway. You wiped your tears, and put a fake smile on as you went back to your party. This time with a plan in your head.

You endured the party with a heavy heart. Faked some more smiles until it ended. You didn’t see Bucky again for the rest of the night, which was good. By the early hours of the morning, everyone had left. You wandered around that empty ballroom like a ghost that night. For hours. Thinking, plotting. It was clear Bucky didn’t want this. And now neither did you. But your families had announced it. So what exactly could you do?

By the time the sun rose, you had already written a note to your father and left it on his desk. By the time the sky brightened, your bags were packed and you were already driving out of the mansion grounds. And you knew that by the time your father would go into his office and find that note, you would already be on a plane, on your way out of here.

You didn’t give too many details in the note. You simply said that you were leaving, not knowing when or if you’d be back.

Truth was, you had no solid plans. All you knew was that you needed to get away from home.

You didn’t know that when you’d return home – almost a decade later, so much would have changed.

Your father was angry. Livid actually, that you’d been away for years without contact. You briefly explained why you needed to leave. And how you’d been able to make a name for yourself elsewhere. But after he was done berating you for what you did when you were twenty and stupid, he filled you in on all that you’d missed in the past decade almost.

Some important points were: your family and Bucky were no longer allies, but were now each others’ worst rivals but no one knew that. The city was now secretly divided – your family ruled and controlled one side, and Bucky ruled the other.

“It’s just him now?” You had asked, and your father nodded.

“A lot happened after you left, actually–”

A loud noise cut him off. Rounds of bullets shot at the windows of the house, from all sides it seemed. And it was pure chaos. You could hear your guards fighting back, but even by just hearing the commotion you could tell you were severely outnumbered.

But whoever it was, they weren’t shooting at anyone, just at windows – making enough noise to get your attention and to get you to come outside.

You marched out of the room despite your father ordering you not to. And you were halfway down the grand stairs when he walked in and spotted you immediately with a smug look on his face.

Bucky. Walked in like he owned the place. He stopped in the middle of the foyer, which was now ruined. Bits and pieces of concrete and glass all over the marble floor. Flower pots destroyed, the gilded mirror in pieces as well. He made a mess of the home you grew up in and you almost shot him right in the heart there and then.

Here was the man who once broke your heart after making you think for years that maybe you had a chance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hissed. You could hear your father coming to a stop on the landing several steps behind you. He was unprepared. You were armed with only one handgun tucked into your pocket. Your guards were outnumbered. This was a shitshow.

The guards – his and yours – stopped firing and now just stood all over the place on high alert. And you knew, deep down in your gut you just knew something which you weren’t ready for was about to happen.

“I see you’re finally home, princess.” Bucky just gave you a cold smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. The action drew your attention to one specific thing. The metal arm. You frowned at it in confusion, but didn’t react.

But that word… ‘princess’ brought back memories which chased you out of this place. And it only fueled your anger.

“What the fuck do you want?”

He lifted his nose slightly in the air, like the arrogant prick he had always been. “I’m here to collect what I was promised.” His voice was strong and confident. “A bride. Now you have a choice, princess. Either we do this in peace and no one gets hurt, or…”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence because on cue, one of his guards sneakily appeared on the landing behind you, holding a gun to your father’s head. You froze for a moment. The look on your father’s face made everything so serious all of a sudden. You had to be extra careful here.

“You wouldn’t.”

He scoffed, “Wouldn’t I?”

You argued, “It’s been almost a decade.”

“I don’t care. We were supposed to marry each other–,”

You cut him off, “Yes, and you didn’t want that, did you? I heard you on the phone that night.” You finally confessed. “By the pool. I remember every single word that came out of your fucking mouth. So don’t come here acting like you’re entitled to–,”

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” He smirked, shaking his head. “Is that why you ran away? And didn’t come home for a decade? Because you spied on me that night and didn’t like what you heard?”

That did it. One moment you were standing on the stairs, afraid that your father might get hurt and the next you had your gun out and shot right at his metal arm, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him but it would make him lower his guard for just a second.

And that one second was enough to jump him and punch him right in the jaw. Fuck, it hurt but it also felt so damn good. All those years you’d been away, you were also training in your free time. And you knew you were good at combat.

But so was he. A few punches in and he managed to throw you down on the floor and pin you to the ground with that same metal hand around your throat, keeping you in place. You didn’t know why his guards just stood and did nothing, as though they had been ordered not to shoot at anyone here.

But you weren’t under any such orders, so you managed to land another punch to his jaw before he yelled, “Enough!” Right in your face. “Stop this shit, or I swear to–,”

You cut him off by punching him again, trying to get free the moment you felt his metal hand get loose around your throat. He growled in annoyance and tightened his grip.

“You’re like a wild fucking animal. Stop!”

You gritted your teeth at the insult and scratched his face exactly like how a wild animal would. You tried everything, tried to punch him again, tried to scratch down his neck and arms which only tore his shirt instead of his skin. You went for yet another punch and only then did you feel another pair of arms – one of his guards – pulling your hands away from his face. You thrashed and tried your hardest to break free but you couldn’t and ended up biting your own lip rather badly in the process.

“I fucking hate you, Bucky Barnes!” You hissed, defeated, and now with a bleeding, throbbing cut on your lip which matched his.

Bucky kept his hand around your neck as he leaned in menacingly and whispered, “Hate me all you want, princess. But you will marry me. Right here. Right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself kissing your husband, in the foyer of your father’s ruined mansion. With your helpless father, and the many guards as witnesses.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and angrier than earlier. Jaws clenched, you were ready to tackle him to the ground again, maybe actually shoot him with your gun this time, but he spoke before you could say anything.

“Let’s go.” He spoke, and like the loyal followers that they were, all of his guards silently walked out of your house. And Bucky grabbed your hand firmly in his and began pulling you out of the house as well.

You resisted again. “Wait! You brute!” You pulled your hand away from his and ran back up the stairs to your father. “I ruined everything, I’m sorry.”

He just hugged you and told you to be careful and be smart. And that he forgives you. You promised you’d come to see him soon. And then you left, refusing to take Bucky’s hand again as you walked out of your father’s house.

You needed to think. You couldn’t fight him right now. Besides, it’s not like you married him legally. All Bucky wanted was to make a scene and you let him. For now. You’d need some time to come up with a plan and decide what needed to be done. But for now…

“If you’re thinking about running away and disappearing for a decade again, you better stop. You’re not getting away this time. You hear me?” Bucky spoke, sitting next to you in the backseat of his car as the driver drove to his side of the city, to his house surely. That authoritative tone of his made you want to scratch his face again.

“You seem to be under the impression that you’re in control here, Barnes. Just know, I could still shoot you right now if I wanted to.” You didn’t look at him, you looked out the window. At the city that had changed in your absence.

“Ouch.” He faked his surprise. Then proceeded to put his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, leaning down he whispered into your ear, “That’s not a nice way of treating your new husband, now is it?”

You gave him a fake smile, ignoring the way your brain thought he smelled delicious, and reached into your pocket to pull out your handgun. Placing the cold barrel right under his chin you said, “Try me, husband.”

The driver cleared his throat in nervousness and you didn’t want to traumatise the man so you pulled your gun away but left it in Bucky’s line of sight. He pulled away then, pulling his hand away from your shoulders but placed his metal hand on your thigh. A possessive move.

Yet that didn’t bother as much. But the metal hand? Where did that come from? What happened while you were gone?

He answered your questions voluntarily. “Got caught in a crossfire. I got shot too many times, the arm was beyond saving. So I had the metal arm made. It’s a very intricate technology, but it works just fine.” He said, flexing the hand on your skin.

You didn’t miss the hidden sexual connotation in that last part of his sentence. And you certainly couldn’t ignore the way your body responded to the cold, metal touch. It looked… badass. Not that you would ever tell him.

You tried to look out the window again, but his touch on your thigh was more distracting than you wanted it to be. It was all you could focus on. Just to stop thinking about it you said, “I don’t have any of my things.”

“It’s all been taken care of. Don’t worry.” He answered, looking down at his phone. Acting like he didn’t know his hand on your thigh was messing you up.

Still you frowned at his answer, “What do you mean it’s been taken care of?” Then you paused and thought about it for a moment, “Did you–” You sighed, “You knew I was coming, didn’t you? Did you have people spying on me?”

He shrugged, “You thought I would let my betrothed be out there in the world without keeping an eye on her?” He scoffed, looking up from his phone for a brief moment, “Of course I did. I know everything about you. I even know all about that secret, women-only army you created.” He added, “I was half expecting them to pop out of nowhere earlier at your father’s house.”

You were in disbelief. This whole time you thought you’d hid well. But no.

“Where are they anyway? Your girls?” He asked, and for once it didn’t sound like a taunt. It sounded like he was genuinely curious.

“Probably out hunting and beheading men who think they can get away with forcing women into marrying them by threatening to kill their fathers.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles, “I’ve trained them well.”

Bucky smiled back. “Well good. When they get here to try and free you, we could unite our forces. We’ll be untouchable then, you and I. I have the money and you have an army.” He winked. “Ultimate power couple.”

“You won’t get away with this, Barnes.”

He looked out of the window and said, “I just came to collect what was promised to be mine that night.”

You argued, bitterly, “Oh we both know what happened that night.”

“I do.” He said, “But do you? Do you really?”

You remained quiet for a moment. This was the second time he questioned your knowledge of what truly happened that night. As if you hadn’t heard him loud and clear on that phone call.

“You–,”

He cut you off and looked out the window as he said, “We’re home.”

It had been a long day. And you were running out of energy so instead of arguing some more, you just followed him out of the car and remained stunned for a moment as you looked at his house. It wasn’t his family home. This one seemed new.

It was just as large as your father’s mansion, just a lot more contemporary compared to the more Georgian architecture-inspired one you grew up in.

Bucky’s house sat on a sprawling green and pristine property. It was a perfect blend of sleek architecture and a glass house, which allowed the right amount of privacy but also allowed glimpses of the warm, farmhouse inspired interior. Even from outside you could tell it was homey and bright inside.

Before you could get a word out, you felt his hands on you again. You tensed up and almost hit him again in defence but before you could, Bucky was carrying you bridal style – literally – and marching towards the large doors of his ridiculously pretty home.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You questioned, squirming just a little in the intimate embrace.

“Traditions,” He said, looking down at you, “Can’t have you trip at the doorstep and risk bringing bad luck into our marriage.”

You frowned at him, reluctantly wrapping your arms around his neck for support. “You say ‘our marriage’ like it’s gonna be a real thing. It won’t, Barnes. I’ll be out of here before you–,”

He used you to push open the door and the warm interior of the home shut you up. For some reason you never imagined someone like Bucky would live in a house that actually looked like a home. You pictured him living in some villain’s lair.

But this was… beautiful.

You squirmed into his arms until he finally set you down carefully. You stood there for a minute, in the foyer, just looking around. Then you couldn’t help but say, “It would be a real pain if someone just started shooting at the windows of your house like a madman, wouldn’t it?” You waved your gun in front of his face.

“I’ll send people over tomorrow morning to fix your father’s house.”

“You don’t even sound apologetic.” You scoffed.

“I’m not.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Was it necessary? To shoot at my house like that? You couldn’t just, I don’t know, ring the doorbell to get me to come outside? You absolutely had to be a child?”

He smirked then said, “First of all, that isn’t your house anymore. This is where you live now, and you will call this your home. Second of all, why blame me when you acted just as childish when you decided to run away all those years ago? Third of all, I did it because, well, I do like some drama.”

You couldn’t not believe him. “You amaze me with your stupidity, Barnes.”

“You amaze me with your bratty attitude, Mrs. Barnes.”

You stepped closer to him, slow and in a threatening manner. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You sighed, “You know you’re still that little boy who used to bully everyone when we played as kids.”

He clarified, “No, I bullied you because you were annoying. Everyone else was fine.”

“I hate you.” You said with enough hostility you hoped it would shut him up.

It didn’t. “Well, see.” He took your hand in his and said slowly as if talking you down, “That’s something we’ll work on together as a couple.”

You pulled your hand away and were so tempted to just–

“Come,” he said, “I’ll show you where our room is.” You began protesting immediately but he cut you off by saying, “Stop being fucking difficult. We’re married now, act like it.”

“I want a separate room!”

“No.”

“I’m not sleeping with you!”

“Then don’t. But you will sleep in my bed. Like my wife should.”

“You’re a fucking animal!” You tried tugging your hand free from his grasp.

Bucky had had enough. So he pinned you to the nearest surface, which happened to be the closed door of his bedroom. He grabbed both your wrists in his metal hand and pinned them above your head. His face was just inches away from yours, and he stared deep into your eyes.

Your mind immediately went to that harsh kiss you’d shared earlier. And you hated how your body squirmed just as the thought of it. You refused to think about it any more, but his mouth was just so, so close. The cut on his lip, the slight stubble on his cheek and around his mouth, the texture of his skin, you were picking up on details you’d missed.

Bucky spoke in a calm, deep voice which sent shivers down your spine. “Let’s be adults here, okay? You stop acting like a brat, and I’ll stop treating you like one.” He said, pressing his chest into yours. “It’s been a long day, and I know you’re running out of energy as well so stop resisting me. If I was an animal, I would’ve dragged you to bed right now and would’ve made you mine in every sense of the word.” He whispered, his voice cold and dangerous. “But I’m not. So you will walk into this room, and head straight for a warm shower and after you’re done we’re gonna clean these wounds. Am I clear?”

You nodded quickly, like an idiot entranced by his gorgeous voice.

“Use your words, princess. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

—

You leaned against the counter, wrapped in a fluffy robe and another towel wrapped around your wet hair, and Bucky was cleaning the cut on your lip.

His wounds were all cleaned. It looked like he had used a different shower while you were in here. His long hair was damp and tied into a small bun, with strands of his dark hair falling on either side of his face. He had changed into a tight black t-shirt and PJ trousers. It was frustrating to look at him. Because he looked so damn good.

Last time you’d seen him was when he was a twenty year old boy. He’d changed since. He seemed taller somehow. Or maybe it was just the muscles making him look bigger.

You couldn’t look away from the metal arm. And the intricate details on it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked, throwing the used cotton balls and napkins in the trash can.

You didn’t miss the way he was being gentle all of a sudden. Calm voice, calm movement. Very different from the man who’d forced you to marry him just hours ago.

“No.” You answered, turning around to look in the mirror. The bruise on your neck was very much visible now. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you again, you didn’t notice how close he got, not until he reached out and touched your neck with his warm fingers.

And for the first time, he sounded genuine when he said, “I’m sorry. About that.”

You met his eyes through the mirror and remained quiet for a moment. For a brief moment you thought back to that night. What if you hadn’t heard him on the phone? What if you had married him back then? Would this be a normal, daily thing? Sharing a bathroom, a bed?

“I punched you. Multiple times. This makes us equal.”

Bucky scoffed, then nodded. Then said, “Come to bed when you’re done.” And left you alone in the bathroom.

Shit. You stared at yourself in the mirror. What a day. All you wanted was to pay your father a visit and maybe spend some days at home and then fly back to where you came from. Having your father’s house be attacked, getting married, and having to share a bedroom with the man who once broke your heart… yeah, all that wasn’t in the plan.

You changed into some comfy PJs Bucky had brought you earlier and walked out into the bedroom. You found Bucky on his phone again, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Which side do you sleep on?” He asked, not looking up from his phone.

“Uh, right.” You answered, because for some reason now he felt the need to ask for your opinion.

Bucky didn’t say a word as he moved to the left side of the bed and peeled back the covers before getting in. Like this was just another day. Like this was normal. You awkwardly walked to your side of the bed and just stood there for a moment.

“Just get in bed. I won’t touch you.”

He didn’t even look at you as he spoke and, well, the lack of attention from him bothered you. Oh what the hell. You pulled the covers and got under them. You curled onto your side, with your back facing him.

Soon, you heard him click something and all the lights turned off. You sensed movement behind you but that was it. He didn’t touch you. In fact, there was so much distance between you two that your back felt cold. And now that annoyed you as well.

You couldn’t sleep.

An hour went by, you still couldn’t sleep.

Another hour went by, and now you’d begun tossing and turning so much that you heard Bucky groaning.

“Will you stop that?”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumbled.

“Don’t make it my problem. Stop moving.”

“Wow. Some husband you are.”

Silence. Then you felt your body sliding across the bed as Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his warm chest.

“What the–,”

“Shh.” He cut you off, his warm breath tickling your cheek as he spooned you from behind. “It’s cold. We could both use the warmth. Now go to sleep.”

You scoffed, but didn’t move. “Your fancy house doesn’t have a thermostat? Fix the temperature.”

“I like this better.”

“I better not find your hands wandering.”

You moved around for a bit, finding a comfortable spot. Then you moved some more and Bucky tightened his arm around you and whispered into your ear, “Stop wiggling against my cock. I understand it’s our wedding night and all but I’m too tired to do anything.”

Your face burned in embarrassment. You tried to put some distance between your bodies, even though you liked his body heat, but thankfully Bucky pulled you right back.

“Did I say you can move?” He chided.

“What now, I need your permission to get comfortable in bed?”

“Brat.”

“Asshole.”

—

You didn’t know when you fell asleep at night. But the heat from Bucky’s chest definitely helped. It must’ve been that. And in the middle of the night, you must’ve searched for more heat. That was probably the only reason why you woke up and found yourself sprawled all over him, face into the crook of his neck and both your hands under his shirt, legs tangled with his.

“You call me an animal. But look at you. Touching me while I was sleeping.” He mumbled. “Shameless.”

You pulled away so fast, but then regretted it. Because now you missed his warmth. You shivered even under the covers. “Would it kill you to keep your damn house a little warmer?”

He just yawned and got out of bed. “Get ready.” He said, “We might have a guest coming over. And you have to be a good little wife and play host.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh you will.” He teased, “Soon.” Then he winked and walked out of the room.

Well, he at least was giving you some privacy and let you have this bathroom all to yourself. Screw his and his mind games. First he barges into your house, forces you to marry him, then cuddles you to sleep.

You caught yourself frowning multiple times while you showered, did some skin care, and found the closet on the other side of the room. You weren’t even surprised when you found a whole section filled with all you could need. All the shoes seemed like they would fit you, all the outfits as well.

Nothing fazed you anymore. Not even the fact that your new husband might be a bit of a stalker. How else would he know your underwear size!? And there were drawers full of them.

You tried not to worry too much as you got dressed. You were gonna get out of here soon anyway.

Once dressed and ready for the day, you got downstairs and immediately heard Bucky’s voice, along with another voice. They were laughing over something. You found out where they were and approached the high-ceilinged, charming, farmhouse-inspired kitchen which blended with a spacious, cosy dining area.

The other man had his back to you, but you knew that voice. Even though you hadn’t heard it in years.

“Sam?” You couldn’t help but call out, lingering by the large doorway. Bucky remained leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in his hand, while Sam got up from where he sat at the breakfast counter.

He turned around and his familiar, warm brown eyes met yours. He gave you a comforting smile. You, Sam, and Bucky all grew up together, along with some other kids from families similar to yours. And Sam had always been a sweetheart. You’d missed him.

So you didn’t even hesitate to walk right into his arms once he opened them, wanting a hug. You squeezed him tight and said, “I thought I’d never see you again, Sammy!”

Sam hugged you back just as tight, “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in almost a decade.” He pulled away to look down at you before giving you a loud kiss on the cheek. Safe to say, he was just as handsome as he was when you left this place. “How have you been?”

You looked over Sam’s broad shoulder and found a broody Bucky. “I’ve been better.”

Sam got really serious, and was about to say something but Bucky’s voice rumbled from behind. “That’s enough hugging and smooching. Sam, stop touching my wife.”

“Ooh, your wife.” Sam teased, before letting go of you and letting you walk out of his arms. “First of all, why didn’t you tell me you two were planning to get married this whole time?” He asked Bucky in an accusatory tone. “My childhood friends got married and I wasn’t even invited.”

Sam sat back down at the breakfast counter, so he didn’t see the questioning stare you sent Bucky. So Sam wasn’t aware of the circumstances under which you got married? Of course he didn’t. Nobody knew, and Bucky wasn’t about to tell anyone

“It all happened so quickly, Sam.” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as you said, “Bucky was… impatient. Even my father didn’t have time to prepare much. It all just, you know, happened.” You spoke as you helped yourself to some breakfast, taking a seat at the table where you could see both men well.

You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s jaws kept clenching and unclenching as you tiptoed the line between telling the truth and lying to Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “I know how impatient he can be.” He glared at Bucky, who shook his head in disbelief.

“I take it you two work together now?” You only asked because you remember how the parents would always talk about how wonderful it would be if these two boys worked together. Apparently they made a great team back then.

“We do.” Bucky answered, placing his mug down before turning around and began chopping some things.

“You see,” Sam began explaining in a playful tone. “After everything happened, Bucky was all along. Poor little princeling with no guidance and a kingdom to run.” You saw Bucky shaking his head at Sam’s words. Sam continued, “So I knew I had to step in and become his mentor. He wouldn’t have survived without me.”

You made a mental note to ask about what ‘everything’ he was referring to, but couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them, despite it all. Sam had always been a good company. He was the sun rays filtering through dark clouds, and Bucky was the dark, gloomy day who needed the sun’s brightness.

“Wouldn’t have survived.” Bucky muttered, mocking his friend. “You helped me train sometimes. You introduced me to people. That’s about it.” He clarified, bringing over a bowl of chopped fruit over to you and pushed it towards you without a word said.

You liked fruits for breakfast. And you assumed he remembered. But he did it all too casually. As if he did it every day. You didn’t want to cause a scene so you accepted the bowl quietly.

“That’s about it?” Sam shook his head, then turned to you. “I took care of him like a parent–,”

“No you didn’t. You–”

“–and this is how he treats me. I should’ve let you bleed out from that bullet wound that one time. Maybe you wouldn’t be here disrespecting me then.”

You chuckled, clearly on Sam’s team. Bucky didn’t like that. “What about my wife then? Who would be taking care of her?”

“I would.” Sam answered without missing a beat. “We all know if not you then I was gonna marry her.” He turned to you, knowing damn well he was gonna get a reaction out of Bucky any time now. Sam lived to mess with Bucky after all. He always did, ever since you were all kids. “Wouldn’t you have married me if Bucky had died?” He asked you with that mischievous smile on his face.

“I–,”

“You answer that and you’ll never see Sam again.” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes at you, before you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.

Sam smirked triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes at Bucky and looked right at Sam and said, “I would’ve married you in a heartbeat, Sammy.”

Sam went to grab your hand, surely to bring it up to his lips for a kiss, but Bucky threw a napkin right at him before he could.

“You touch my wife again and I swear–,”

“Must you always threaten people?” You asked, glaring at Bucky.

He glared back. And opened his mouth to say something but Sam cut him off. “Hey, hey, kids. No fighting.” He quickly changed the topic, “Now, since you have gotten married and no one was there, how about a party? To announce it to everyone? We could invite the whole city.”

Party. Yeah right. The last time you attended an extravagant party you had your heart broken. Not just broken, but stepped onto and crushed to a pulp.

You went to say no, “Maybe we shouldn’t–,”

But Bucky declared, “Absolutely we should. After all, we waited almost a decade to marry each other.” He looked right at you as he said that. “It’s time everyone knows you’re finally mine.”

“Perfect!” Sam began planning immediately. He had always been the life of all parties, and he loved them.

While you occasionally answered his questions, you didn’t stop glaring at your husband while you finished your breakfast. There was something he was hiding. You were certain of it. But what?

—

A couple days later, it was finally the night of the party.

The past few days had been more or less similar. You’d always wake up sprawled all over Bucky’s chest, and he always made a teasing comment about it. You’d have breakfast in silence, after which he’d disappear and then he’d come home in the evenings. You never talked while having dinner.

The one time you did talk, it didn’t end well.

You brought it up at dinner. “I tried to go out today. Your people followed me into the city.”

“Our people.” He corrected. Bucky didn’t find anything wrong with that apparently because he simply said, “And they’re your security detail. They’ve been ordered to follow you.”

“So I don’t escape?”

“So you’re always safe.”

“Oh come on. You can’t keep me here forever.”

He shrugged, “You’re not being kept. This is your home, we’re married. This is where you live now.”

You stood up from the table.You didn’t care that the housekeepers you’d been recently introduced to could hear. “And who are you to make that decision for me?” You asked, in a surprisingly calm tone.

He replied in a similar tone. “Your husband.”

You sighed, trying your hardest to keep it all contained. “I have a life, you know? A totally separate life I’ve been living since I left this place. I have to get back to it at some point. You proved your point. Now let me go.”

He ignored all of that. “I’m working on transferring all your businesses and staff here.” He announced. “I’m buying a brand new building in the city, you can have it and set it up however you want. The only thing I can’t find is your secret army of highly trained soldiers.”

“You’ll never find my girls.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re trained to outrun men like you. All men, in fact.” You added, “I made sure of that. I made sure they’d never be used and moved around like pieces on a chessboard then discarded by people like you.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Fuck you, Barnes.” You spat before walking away.

You made sure to sleep on the very edge of the gigantic bed that night, as far away from him as possible. But in the morning, you still woke up snuggled into his chest, on his side of the bed, like you’d been trying to burrow under his skin seeking warmth at night.

You didn’t speak after that. You made sure to ignore him. Each time you left the house, to go see your father or to just roam around the city you’d missed so much, you’d look in the rear view mirror and find big, bulky SUVs following you around.

And here you were now, after days of silent treatment, you stood in front of the large mirror in the closet of your bedroom and watched your reflection. Of course the bastard had chosen an extravagant evening gown for you to wear which looked eerily similar to the one you wore that night for your birthday almost ten years ago.

Except this one was much more elegant. And looked a lot like a wedding dress. With its simple square neckline, thin straps, fitted bodice and a majestic skirt. All white and sparkly. The last time you felt like a princess, the night ended terribly. So this time you were afraid to even let yourself appreciate the beautiful woman in the mirror who stared back at you.

You kept fidgeting, with the skirt of the dress, watching it swish around. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you from behind. Not until he stood right behind you, his chest brushing against your slight exposed back.

He looked… unreal in his all black suit. Shiny black tie and a small shiny pin. His hair was perfect as always, and his all black outfit really made his eyes seem bluer than ever. Or maybe it was the lights in this closet that did it. But it made you notice the lines by his eyes, which gave away just how much time had gone by.

He was still that bad boy with tattoos whom you had a crush on, who made your race whenever he looked at you. Except now he was older, meaner. And your husband. Whom you hated.

Did you?

You tensed up when he placed a hand on your waist, right where the bodice and skirt were sewn together. You met his eyes through the mirror, but said nothing. You had no mean words to throw at him this time and neither did he.

“You look beautiful.” He said, leaning in just a little to rest his cheek against your temple.

You froze at the soft touch which drove you insane. You must be ovulating, you thought, because there was no way that mere touch was making your heart race like this for no other reason. You began breathing faster, that’s how fast your heart was racing.

You almost leaned into his touch, ready to forget it all just for one moment of warmth. Of peace and quiet. Just one moment to appreciate that you looked beautiful and you had your husband’s attention and all was well. To appreciate that you two look great together. To stop fighting this weird alchemy between you two which kept drawing you to one another no matter what. But then you remembered.

“Do I?” You asked, keeping your voice steady. “You sure I don’t look like a kid’s toy with this ridiculous dress on?”

He remembered too, judging by the look on his face. He looked surprised, then briefly apologetic before settling on a familiar, broody frown. “What did I say about being a brat?”

“I’ll stop being a brat when you stop being an asshole.” You scoffed. “You always were so… careless. With people. With everything. Always thinking you were above everyone else, ever since we were just kids.” You added, “I hate you.”

He smirked, then grabbed your elbow and turned you around so he could look at you, or glare at you with his ocean blue eyes. “You didn’t hate me back then, did you?” He pushed you against the closest surface, which happened to be a wooden dresser. “You craved my attention back then. You used to find excuses to hold my hand when we were little. When we got older you used to hate it when I looked at other girls at school. Now look at you. You’re in my house, you sleep in my bed.” He leaned in, whispering in your ear, “You’re my wife. Then why do you keep resisting me, hmm?”

“I was stupid back then. Wasted so much time trying to get your attention, and all I ever was to you was a whiny, bratty–,” You cut yourself off with a surprised gasp as you watched Bucky lower to his knees in front of you, his hands lifting the skirt of your dress. He was rough with it, crumpling it in his strong fists. “What are you doing?” You asked, shocked and surprised but not making a move to get away. “You– you’re ruining my dress.”

He looked up at you, bunching some of the fabric near your waist and holding the front part of your dress up, pinning the bunched up skirt at your abdomen. As if he wanted to–

Your entire face burned when you realised just how close and intimate this was.

“I bought this dress. I’ll ruin it if I want to.” He spoke in that arrogant tone you weren’t sure you entirely hated at this moment. “You’re lucky I’m not tearing it off of you.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not–,”

He cut you off by leaning in and kissing your inner thigh. Just like that. As if you weren’t on the verge of arguing just now. You were still processing that soft kiss he left on your thigh, and he was already moving to spread your legs apart as he slowly looked up, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop or push him away.

You didn’t.

His eyes remained focused on your face as his hand reached out and he ran his metal knuckles between your legs, along your wet folds through your thin underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch. You flinched at the cold, but didn’t pull away.

“You’re dripping.” He commented, slowly sliding down your underwear. “Does arguing with me turn you on, baby? Is that why you do it all the time?” He smirked, finally throwing your underwear to the side.

You glared at him, opening your mouth to argue yet again but you ended up just letting out a soft moan as you felt his metal fingertips gently trail up and down your legs. He chuckled at how sensitive and responsive you were. Bucky placed a kiss on your inner thigh again and you gasped.

“Looks like you haven’t been taken care of in a while.” He said, moving his fingers over your clit, circling it slowly. “Have you?” He sounded like he was accusing you.

“No.” You hissed, angry at how much you didn’t mind his touch. “You barged in and married me before I could go out and find someone who might–,”

“I tolerate you talking to and about Sam because he’s our friend.” He cut you off. “But if I hear you talking about any other man, I promise I will be committing unnecessary crimes and it’ll all be on you.” He paused, glaring at you. “You hear me?”

You nodded. Fuck he looked good from up here.

He held your stare as he leaned in and placed his mouth to your core, giving your clit a firm such before his warm tongue slipped past your folds and teased your dripping hole. One hand holding part of your dress up while the metal one worked in tandem with his tongue, circling your throbbing clit and parting your wet folds with ease.

“Should’ve known you’d taste like fucking heaven,” He whispered, almost to himself.

You couldn’t hold the moans and whimpers in, feeling his stubble rubbing against your soft skin, craving more of it. You couldn’t help but slide hesitant fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, more…” You whined.

That made him wild. And he ate you out relentlessly, taking his time and learning what worked for you and what didn’t, until your legs were shaking and your moans were louder.

He slid his fingers, just a knuckle deep inside you and watched how much you loved that. “That feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

You only whimpered in response.

When he was certain you were right on the edge, hips moving in a frantic way which made you grind against his fingers and tongue, only then did he pull away and let go of your dress before standing back up to face you with a condescending smirk.

“You think it’s that easy?” He spoke, but you focused more on the wetness coating his lips rather than his words.

You blinked a couple of times to break out of whatever spell he’d just put you under using that damned mouth and fingers of his. He’d… he’d dared bring you right to the edge. But hadn’t let you come.

You were breathing heavily, feeling hot and tingly all over.

He chuckled, enjoying the speechlessness which was rare when it came to you. “If you want more, then behave tonight. Be good and tell everyone how in love we are and all the nice things, and I promise I’ll take care of you later tonight. Okay?“

You knew what he was doing. He wanted you to tell as many people as possible because the more people knew, the harder it would be for you to sneak out of this place again.

He didn’t even wait for a response. He just licked his lips clean, shamelessly holding your stare while he did. Then turned to the mirror and fixed his suit before bending down to pick up your discarded underwear. You looked away, embarrassed but waiting for him to hand it to you.

Except he didn’t. He pocketed it like it was nothing and said, “Come on, our guests are waiting.” Then he walked out of the room like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t made you almost lose your mind just minutes ago. Like he didn’t have his tongue and fingers inside you. Like he hadn’t gotten so close to making you come.

Like your heart wasn’t still racing even after he’d left the room.

Eventually, you calmed down. Fixed your makeup, hair and dress again before heading towards the temporary, clear outdoor party tent Sam had people install in Bucky’s huge backyard. The closer you got, the more it looked straight out of a fairytale. Given the clear walls, you could see the golden lights and decor inside.

The chandeliers, the floral arrangements, the tables and the dance floor where people danced with their partners.

Speaking of partners, there by the entrance stood a tall, dark figure. Your husband.

“Took you a while.” He muttered once you got close enough to him.

You stopped by his side and sighed. Then answered in a monotone voice, trying to hide how bothered you were. “Well, some conceited asshole left me to deal with a mess he made so there’s that.”

Bucky snickered. “Don’t act so indifferent. You were dripping all over my tongue and hand just minutes ago.”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not taboo for a husband to take care of his wife, you know?” He sounded just as annoying as you expected he would.

You looked down and noticed he had his elbow extended out for you to take. You took it and spoke once you two began walking into the venue. “If you think you are getting anywhere near me to take care of me again, husband, you are dead fucking wrong.” You put a fake smile on as people began noticing your arrival and flocked to you.

Bucky whispered one last thing into your ear before he left you in the care of the excited, curious, and loud group of ladies coming your way, “Oh you’ll beg me to touch you soon enough, wife.”

Then he was gone again. Leaving you right on that edge again.

Damn him!

—

You had to give it to Sam, he knew how to organise a party. The decor, the food, the music, the performances, all of it was perfect.

He even re-introduced to all the people you might have forgotten while you were gone. And naturally everyone had questions. You repeated the same answers to them all. The same lies.

Where were you this whole time? You wanted to do your own thing, and make your own name so you decided to get away from home.

Why did you leave right after it was announced that you were to marry Bucky Barnes? Oh your father never said when you were to marry him. He just said you would. Besides, both you and Bucky were too young to marry back then.

Did Bucky know you were going to be gone? Of course he did! You two were childhood sweethearts after all. Yes, you did keep in touch this whole time and only fell more and more in love. Yes, distance does make the heart grow fonder and all.

Why did the wedding happen so suddenly and in secret? After almost a decade of being far apart from each other, you two could no longer wait anymore. So you eloped the day you came back.

There are rumours that your father and Bucky have some kind of tension going on between them, is any of it true? That was the one question you didn’t feel too confident about. Because your father never ended up telling you why that was. How did the rivalry start? You lied and said, it’s just because you eloped. Your father wanted to be involved but you were too in love to think straight. So now your father was giving your poor husband a hard time for stealing his little girl.

As you paraded around and met everyone, you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you at all times. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel the burning sensation along your back and you just knew he was watching you.

And he watched all night. Up until the moment people began leaving and you had no choice but to find him again, not knowing what else to do.

“You lie very well.” He commented, holding his elbow out for you to take again.

You did. And also leaned into him a little because you had been standing for too many hours. You decided to ignore the hostility for just a minute. “Yes, I’m a natural.”

“Everyone bought your bullshit about how we are childhood sweethearts turned lovers.” He whispered, turning his head to face you.

“Well, you did say to make it believable.”

“Oh it is.” He boasted, “Especially since you’ve been looking at me like that the whole night.”

You rolled your eyes, “How?”

“With longing, and desire. You’re all hot and bothered. You crave my tongue back on that throbbing little clit, don’t you?”

“You’re delusional, Barnes.”

“And you’re dripping wet for me, Mrs. Barnes.”

—

The party ended, and after Sam left you and Bucky made your way back inside the house. Sam, being the angel that he was, had made sure a clean up crew would be here early the next morning so you had nothing to worry about.

Not that it should bother you whether or not Bucky’s house is tidy.

You had a faint smile on your face as you went about your nighttime routine. Shower, skin care, a quick snack in the kitchen. And while you were downstairs, searching the pantry for something sweet, you saw Bucky near the thermostat.

The pantry hid you well, so Bucky didn’t see you. But you watched him mess with the temperature. You squinted and realised he was lowering it. The damned bastard was making it colder! No wonder you were freezing each night and woke up each morning snuggled up to him, basking in his warmth.

This asshole.

You remained in hiding until Bucky left, and this time as you made your way upstairs you vowed you wouldn’t reach for his warmth. No matter how cold it got. And he wouldn’t get to use you as a personal heated blanket either. Let him freeze.

You barely lasted thirty minutes under the covers.

And he was quiet and didn’t move so you thought he was asleep already as you carefully scooted a little bit closer, trying to feel where he was in the dark. If only this bed wasn’t so damn big. You patted around, trying not to move to much as you–

“I can hear you, you know? If you want to cuddle, just say it.”

You stopped moving immediately. “Shut up.” You muttered, frowning at him even though he couldn’t see it. You could see his faint silhouette in the dark, so you knew when he turned on his side to face you.

“What is it, wife? You need some warmth on this cold, cold night?” He asked in that mocking tone of his.

“No.” You answered, lying. Because yes you did.

He muttered ‘stubborn brat’ under his breath and then grabbed you and pulled you close until your back was completely pressed against his chest. His warm, comfy chest. You bit back a sigh of relief once you felt his body heating wrapping you in a cocoon.

“I saw you messing with the thermostat.” You admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You make it cold on purpose.”

“Oh no.” He mocked. “ Why didn’t you fix it then?” He asked, and it hit you how childish this was. He leaned in just enough so that his lips brushed against your cheek when he spoke. “Could it be that you like cuddling with me?”

“Shut up.”

He scoffed, finally wrapping his arms around you, but you hissed upon feeling his metal arm on your body.

“It’s cold.”

“Warm it up for me then.”

“What–”

You stopped talking the moment Bucky grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on top of his, spreading your legs to make room for his hand as you both remained on your sides, with him spooning you from behind.

His metal hand found itself sliding into your shorts, past your underwear and he cupped you with such confidence and authority that you couldn’t help leaning into and grinding into his touch. His other hand slid under your pillow and down so he could grab and give your breast a firm squeeze.

Fuck. His hands felt like they were touching you everywhere.

“I told you I’d take care of you if you behaved.” He whispered into your ear. “Time for a little reward, wife.”

He slid two fingers inside you, you gasped at the feeling of him being knuckles deep inside you. You whined as he stretched you a little, moving his fingers around until your hips were moving on their own, trying to get him to move some more.

He chuckled. “That feels good?” He murmured into your ear.

His voice, his warmth, the softness of his embrace, the unhurried way his fingers were moving in and out of you, sliding over your clit and stroking your walls like he had all the time in the world.

Your hands wrapped around his metal wrist, keeping his hand in place as you rode his fingers the way you wanted. Hips moving forward and causing his fingers to slide in and out, while you moaned and whimpered.

His lips brushed against your cheek over and over again as he whispered against your skin, “See how nice it is when you behave? Hmm? You can have me whenever you want, baby. Just be good for me, and I’ll do anything for you.”

The animosity between you was forgotten at this moment. Here, in this dark room the past didn’t matter for a few minutes. Nothing mattered, just that you wanted something and he was giving it to you.

His thumb caressed your clit, teasing it a little more until you cried out, “Bucky, please…”

He froze. You did too. Then he chuckled and said, “So all is takes is a little finger fucking and now you have manners and you call me by my name?” He sounded just as annoyingly playful as you knew he would.

“Oh fuck you!” You spat, then immediately let out a loud moan as he sped up and really fucked you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess. “Please, please, please…”

“What did I say, huh?” He hissed. “Keep acting like a fucking brat and you’ll be treated like one.” He kept his fingers moving in and out of you. “I planned on really taking care of you tonight, but you know what? This is all you’re gonna get.”

Your moans and whimpers got louder and louder until you began clenching around his fingers, coming undone with a loud cry of his name. Body shaking and your hips grinding down on his hand as you savoured the last moments of your orgasm before he pulled out and pulled away from you.

You thought he’d go right back to sleep but then you felt him get out of bed. “Where are you–,”

“I’ll fix the temperature.” He mumbled, sounding annoyed. Rightfully so. “Go to sleep.”

And that was the last you heard or saw of him until the morning because you passed out right after. You didn’t even know if he returned to bed or not. Not that you cared much.

Right?

—

Things changed after that night.

A lot changed actually. Bucky had, miraculously, managed to uproot ten years of your life from elsewhere and planted it right here in the city. He took you to the building he’d been getting ready for you and it sure was something. You didn’t know what you expected but a brand new skyscraper was not what you had in mind.

The day he handed over papers and keys and gave you a tour of the huge building was the first time you felt a shift in this… bond you shared with him.

“Thank you.” You simply said as you both stepped into the shiny elevator so he could take you all the up to the top floor, to show you to your new office.

Bucky slid his hands in his pockets and turned to face you. “You think being nice equals sexual favours from me, wife?”

You could’ve told him to shut it. Or told him to go get fucked. But he was trying to be good to you, wasn’t he? Even after all he did, he wanted you next to him for some unknown reason and frankly you were tired of resisting. Your entire life was here now anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to… try. Would it?

So instead you answered with, “Doesn’t it?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, searching for the catch. He didn’t find any so he said, “We’ll see about that.”

And that night he followed you into the shower and kissed you hard under the falling water. “I see you behaved yourself today.” He whispered against your mouth.

You pulled him closer by grabbing his neck and said, “Do I get a reward then?”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed you hard again and walked the two of you backwards until your back collided with the cold clear glass of the shower cubicle. Then he pulled away, looked down into your eyes. His own filled with lust and hunger as he asked, “You’re gonna let me fuck you?”

You nodded quickly before saying, “Yes. Please.”

He didn’t waste a single moment. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it to his hip, spreading you open. He kissed you senseless again while he pushed inside of you. You moaned into the kiss as he filled you up, his cock stretching you out, making you whine and whimper as he slow fucked you.

“Fuck…” He breathily moaned against your open mouth while he moved against you. Pushing deeper, in and out of you until your moans and whimpers got louder and louder. The sound of the water falling from the shower drowned out most of it, so he fucked you until you moaned loud enough that he could hear you over the falling water.

“Please,” You cried out. Weeks of frustration wanting to be let out. “Please, Buck…” Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, and you held on while he fucked you.

Bucky almost froze again at the sound of his nickname falling from your lips. But he maintained his composure and sped up into you, feeling your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock.

“You’ve been good today,” He said, noticing the way you clenched around him hard at the sound of praise. “You didn’t talk back, not once. Is it because you wanted this cock, baby?”

You whined in response. Feeling his damp skin rubbing against yours, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Oh, poor baby.” He gave you a messy, heated kiss then said, “It’s all yours, you know? You just have to ask nicely. And you can have it whenever you want.”

“Please…” You begged again, your pride nowhere in sight. “Please, Bucky.”

“Come for me, baby…” He breathed against your skin. His hands held you in place as he pounded into you. “Come for me.”

You did, moaning so loud it was all he heard as he came right after you.

—

It became a daily thing over the next few weeks. You’d seek Bucky out at random times during the day or more often right when he’d get into bed at night.

“Were you good today, wife?” He asked, his hands already moving all over you trying to undress you as fast as he could.

“Yes,” You breathed into his ear, your hands touching him all over his tattooed chest. “I even made you breakfast, remember?”

“Those burnt pancakes count?”

You shut him up by kissing him, pulling him down onto the bed and straddling him, then proceeded to ride him until you were both moaning and spent, too tired to move.

—

Things got… playful.

Oftentimes you’d catch yourself wondering why you weren’t actively working to get out of here. But your whole life was here now. Work, your family, and your husband. You didn’t hate Bucky as much as you thought you would. Just a few months ago you wanted to kill him on sight but now…

“I saw the new building you work at. He bought you that?” Your father asked one morning when you went over to join him for breakfast.

You cleared your throat and answered, “He did. He moved everything here. My businesses, my staff, all of it.”

“And the girls?” He asked, referring to the infamous, feared, and fierce army you had raised and trained over the last ten years.

“My girls are free to go wherever they want to.” You let pride fill you as you thought of them. “Besides, they don’t have to be here for me to know I can always count on them. They’re just a phone call away.” You explained. “Plus they have work to do. People to save, women to recruit. You know, the usual.”

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

You smiled at your father. Then a few moments passed and you couldn’t help but ask, “What happened after I left? Where is the rest of Bucky’s family?”

Your father looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Your father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re all gone anyway. Plus the boy, he… he treats you right, doesn’t he?”

You nodded. Then left it at that. You wanted a peaceful morning with your father, you didn’t want to ruin it by insisting he tell you about whatever it was that he wanted to keep in the past.

—

But it bothered you, knowing that something happened while you were gone that you knew nothing about and everyone refused to tell you about it.

All except one man. Your beloved friend, Sam.

He showed up one morning, demanding to see Bucky.

“He said he has an important phone call to attend to. With someone named Steve. He’s been outside for over an hour now,” You explained to Sam, who stood at the foyer looking disappointed, “It looks like he’ll be out for quite some time.”

Sam frowned, and sighed. “He said to come over for a round of golf.” He sounded like he’d been betrayed. “Ever since he started doing business and being friendly with that Steve guy,” Sam complained, “That bitch has been trying to steal my best friend.”

You chuckled and grabbed his hand to lead him further into the house. “I’m sorry my husband ruined your playdate, Sammy. But you can hang out with me.”

Sam reluctantly agreed only after you promised to make him blueberry muffins. He liked those ever since you were kids.

He agreed to help, and you both had a nice, comfortable conversation going while you worked. You caught yourself shaking your head a few times thinking about how just a few months ago if someone had told you you’d be in Bucky’s kitchen making muffins you wouldn’t believe it.

But here you were now.

Then Sam casually said, “I’m glad you two worked it out, you know? You’re so perfect for each other. Even back when we were kids, remember how everyone used to tease you two and say you would surely marry one another?” He laughed. “I mean after he told me all about how you heard him on the phone with me by the pool, I was worried you might never clear up the misunderstanding.” He chuckled, keeping his eyes down as he lined the muffin tin so didn’t see the way you froze. Sam continued, “I thought that’s why you left when I heard about your sudden disappearance. But–”

You cut him off, heart racing as memories of that night came flooding back in. “Sam… what do you mean on the phone with you?”

Sam looked up, frowning. “That night of your twentieth birthday. Remember how you found Bucky by the pool? He was on the phone with me that night. He was so angry when he told me what his family was planning to do to yours, how they were going to–,” Sam cut himself off as the realisation set in. “Did he not tell you the truth?”

Your heart pounded. Something was wrong.

“Tell me what truth?”

Sam’s eyes softened. “Oh, I shouldn’t be the one to–,”

“Sammy, please.” You begged in a whisper. “Even my father refuses to tell me anything. I have the right to know. What happened?”

Sam tried his hardest to make sense as he told you everything in a rush. “Look, something went wrong back then. Bucky’s family began siding with the rivals and they were trying to take your father down. They tricked your dad into thinking that getting you and Bucky married would be a good idea and well, your father chose to believe his friends so he made that announcement at the party.” Sam sighed, “But Bucky’s family were planning something really bad. They were going to use the wedding as an excuse to gather all your family in one place and… end all of you. Just so they’d be able to expand their territory. Bucky found out about this plan and he was pissed. So that night, he called me. To vent.”

You felt your eyes begin to water.

Sam continued. “But then you found him. I remember him whispering to me that you were doing a terrible job at hiding behind a plant or some shit. Then your huge gown gave away your hiding spot. But given you were listening, Bucky decided he’d get you annoyed enough to have you at least try to call off the wedding which would buy us some time to figure out what to do. That’s when he began saying those things about you. Trying his hardest to sound like he truly did not want to marry you.” Sam sighed, “I mean there might have been a better way of doing it rather than fake dialogues on a phone call, but we were twenty year old boys. We didn’t know better. We didn’t know you’d write that note and just disappear.”

What the actual fuck.

“Sam…” You whispered in disbelief.

He shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t truly believe all that. He lied when he said those things that night, you know? Bucky liked you ever since we were kids. You don't remember how he used to get mad at me whenever I was around you for too long? How he always ignored your hiding spots when we played just so you’d win at hide-and-seek? You don’t remember how he used to bully your stupid boyfriends as we got a older?”

You couldn’t believe any of this. But Sam would never lie to you.

“Wait,” Sam put the pieces together. “So you didn’t know about any of this?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, “I didn’t. I heard all the things he said that night and… I had spent my entire life loving him and I thought…” You sighed. “I was young and stupid and heartbroken so I just left.” Then you explained. “I got back recently, Bucky made this whole show of raining down bullets at my father’s house and, well, we kinda got married that same day, in my father’s destroyed foyer.”

“You didn’t talk to each other this whole time?” Sam was in disbelief. “Oh for fuck’s sake. And I thought Bucky just never mentioned you while you’ve been gone because… well, he’s not exactly good at the whole heart to heart thing. He’s Bucky.”

Your surprise morphed into anger really quickly. “I need to find my husband.” You said, quickly walking out of the kitchen.

Sam yelled behind you, “I'm gonna take this muffin batter and go before he shoots me after he finds out I told you all this!”

You just yelled back, “Bye Sammy, I love you”

Sam’s voice sounded distant as he yelled back, “Don’t let him hear you!”

You ran out to the back, where Bucky said he would be. And you found him by the pool. Again. The sight of him standing there gave you déjà-vu. Except he wasn’t your twenty-year old crush, in a black suit, arguing with who turned out to be Sam, on the night of your birthday anymore.

He was older now, your husband, wearing dark trousers and a loose white-button up shirt, standing by the pool with the sun setting behind him. You stood on the patio, for a second more, admiring him. The metal hand casually shoved in his pocket and his heavily tattooed arm held a phone to his ear.

You called out, no longer containing your anger. “You absolute piece of shit!”

Bucky looked towards you and just frowned, before rolling his eyes. Then said on the phone, “Hang on a minute, Steve. My wife’s angry at me again.” He lowered the phone to his chest and whispered to you, “What is it this time?”

“How long were you going to keep the truth from me?” You accused him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He raised the phone to his ear again and said, “I’ll call you later Steve, something came up.” Then he hung up, tossed his phone onto one of the lounge chairs before turning to face you again. “Don’t get mad–”

“Stop telling me what to do!”

He sighed. “Did Sam tell you anything? I saw his car coming in earlier.”

You hissed, “Oh leave him alone! He’s a good man who doesn’t lie to me!”

Bucky shook his head, understanding that you knew all about what he’d been hiding, and too calmly said, “They were gonna kill you. All of you. Not just your family members, but the guards, the family friends, the members of your family who aren’t even in this life – all of you. I had to do something. My folks were wrong, I couldn’t let innocent people die just because my family got too power hungry.”

You took a step forward, “Why didn’t you tell me before I left? I would’ve talked to someone.”

“We barely even talked to each other as we got older. I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

“But you could’ve at least tried to say something!”

He was quiet for a moment. Then said, “I came to see you the next day.” He confessed. “The morning after the party. But your father had found your note and you’d already left. You never mentioned exactly why you left in the note, so I let him think it was because of me.” He explained, “Since there would be no wedding I didn’t have to worry anymore. But the threat remained. So I goaded your father into a fight. He took the bait and tried to shoot at me. He missed, of course. But enough people heard about it so he ended up declaring war against my family.”

He paused. You listened quietly.

“No one knew it was all because of me. But at least from then on, your father was more cautious. And he began hating my folks. And they couldn’t keep pretending to be his friend for much longer either. All the truth began spilling out. Soon the city was divided and the attacks began. Allies became enemies, just like that.”

You were quiet. Processing everything. All of that shit happened and you were not aware.

For some reason, you asked, “During those attacks… Is that when you lost your arm?”

You only realised you’d been stepping closer and closer to him when he raised said metal arm and touched your cheek gently. He smiled and said, “No, baby. That was a different time.”

You had a tear sliding down your face. He wiped it away. “What happened then?” You asked.

“My folks didn’t stand a chance. Your father was not only angry and betrayed, but he was also sad that he lost you because of them, or me.” Bucky explained. “It got… really bad. Your father lost a lot of his guys. Then he got angrier. So he stopped responding to the petty attacks and came after my folks directly.”

“He killed them?” They were his friends once.

Bucky said, “He still doesn’t know I helped him all the way until the end.”

“But he spared you.”

Bucky smirked. “He just could never catch me.”

“But your family…” Bucky went against his own you realised.

“They were bad people. Not just because of what they planned to do to you but…” He sighed. “They were doing bad things in the background. Dealing in substances, and people.” He spared you the gory details.

But you understood.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this that day we got married?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me. You had just spent ten years hating me.” He shrugged. “But hey, it kept you safe.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling tired with all that you felt inside you. “So you never meant the things you said that night?”

Bucky pulled you close, cupping your face in his hands. “I have loved you my entire life. I never stopped.”

You sniffled, looking up into his pretty eyes. “We lost so much time. I spent years hating you for nothing.” It hurt thinking about it.

He smiled at you, “I should’ve thought it through better. But I was young and rash, and my family threatened to kill the girl I loved. I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away.” He sighed. “I just didn’t think I was going to lose you for almost a decade. I was always aware of where you were and what you did in life in those years. I was so proud of everything you did, the name you made for yourself. But I couldn’t reach you. You were angry and you hated me. So I waited. And then you came back and… I needed you with me. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face into the crook of his neck as you let the tears fall quietly.

“Shh,” He whispered, running a comforting hand down your back. “It’s okay now, I’m here. We’re okay.”

“I’ve been mean to you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled quietly, “And I shot at your father’s house. We’re equal.”

“I… I love you too, you know?” You sniffled.

Bucky pulled away so he could look down at your teary face. “Sorry to say this, wife, but this isn’t half as romantic as the first time you told me you loved me.”

You frowned. “What?” Did you talk in your sleep? Oh no. Did you? “When did I say it?”

“We were seven, playing in the hedge maze in your father’s backyard.” He smiled, thinking about that day. “He had just had a new water fountain placed in there, and you wanted to show it to me. You must have thought it was pretty and that I needed to see it too. Then you dragged me all the way there and told me you loved me.” He smirked, “Seven-year old you would be disappointed in you right now.”

A chuckle escaped your lips at the faded memory. “I wish we could go back in time.”

“Well, we can’t. But we can have the rest of our lives together.”

You sniffled again, wiped your tears. Then nodded, and leaned in for a kiss. Deepening it the moment he kissed you back. Your fingers found their way into his longish hair and you gently tugged at his roots.

He smiled into the kiss when you whispered against his lips, “I like you with long hair.”

“I see you’re being nice again,” He murmured in between kisses, “Does my wife need something?”

You giggled this time. “I want you, Buck. Just you.”

“You have me.” He said. “Always.”

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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pellucid-constellations · 24 days

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To Feel At Home

Pairing:��Azriel x Reader

Summary: Winnowing out from Under the Mountain, you know you need to find him—it doesn't seem real, to feel so at home.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: A little angsty piece because I can't stop writing for some reason. I hope you enjoy :)

Main Masterlist ♡

On shaking legs, you pressed forward. Rhysand was still at the Moonstone Palace—still in Mor’s arms and coping with the impossible. You had made to stay, but Mor had given you a shake of her head that conveyed more than any words could have.

Mustering up the morsel of power that had returned to you after Amarantha’s death, you winnowed to Velaris.

Not in a good spot. You hadn’t had access to your power in over five decades and much of Rhysand’s wards were still in place. Given the circumstances, getting yourself to some random alley at the edge of Velaris was a feat.

The sun was blinding, invading your senses that had gotten so used to the darkness Under the Mountain. You brought a hand up to cover your eyes and trekked on.

No more winnowing.

You had tried—it hadn’t worked.

As you walked, stumbling through families taking strolls and having normal days, you searched within you for that golden thread. It had been absent for longer than it had been alive, your time as mates barely reaching a decade before your disappearance.

You sifted through the pain and grief and loneliness, desperate for the relief you would find once you felt the weight of him.

Nothing yet.

He had to know things had changed Under the Mountain. Even amidst the secrecy and the hiding, you knew he would check. His shadows would cross continents to find you.

But—you stressed, as you made it to a main road lined with cobblestones—that could mean he went there. Azriel could be under that mountain at this very moment, searching through the fae still sorting out their lives before they went home.

And you were here.

You had no reason to panic.

You were home, safe, alive; you had more reason to feel at peace than you had in the last 50 years. But if Azriel wasn’t here…

Your breath came out in short pants as your fingers found purchase on a wall. But you kept going, kept watching your feet as they stumbled past each other, just to have the chance of seeing him.

There were no shadows yet.

They always found you first.

You weren't sure how much time had passed—seconds, minutes, hours all lost their meaning under Amarantha—but the shadow of the mountain that held your home was soon cast over your body. You gasped out uneven breaths and pressed a hand to the towering figure, to the entrance that held the ten thousand steps you had every intention of climbing.

Your body would surely fail.

The last five decades had not been kind.

With a determination fueled solely by desperation and hope, you began the tunneled pathway to the harrowing climb, but then you stopped at the entryway.

A broken rendition of your name met your ears, so cracked and ruined you could have passed it off for something else.

But you knew that voice, the way the vowels flowed and connected.

Another broken sound permeated the air, this time from your own lips.

You couldn’t look. You wanted to, ached to, but you couldn’t. So much anticipation led up to this moment. And you were different now, a fraction of the person you had been all those years ago.

“Y/n, my love, look at me,” Azriel begged, the lowest you’d ever heard him speak. But you hadn’t heard him speak in so long, so perhaps you were misremembering. “Please.”

You couldn’t.

Moving was impossible.

Your legs began to shake at the sound of footsteps, and then your knees gave out.

A loud sound vibrated against the tunnel walls as your hands slapped against the floor. On the ground, steps away from the only person who could fix this, your waterline filled with tears.

But you didn’t have time to second-guess or run or wonder if this was all too much. You were gathered into a strong pair of arms, pressed into a firm chest that smelled like home, and tears made paths down your cheeks. They flowed in damp trails in silence, Azriel holding you closer and closer until you weren’t sure space existed between you.

His nose pressed into your hair.

His chest rose and fell in uneven patterns.

More silence. You felt your body begin to rock gently back and forth.

This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be.

You had resigned yourself to never seeing him again many years ago. Even as you ran through the streets of Velaris without your breath or your reasonable mind, you hadn’t expected to find him. This was a dream, Azriel wasn’t here, it was only a cruel play on your mind.

Someone was trying to hurt you, and it was working.

Maybe Amarantha had finally gotten Rhys to crack.

Maybe this was his doing, his manipulation of your deepest hopes.

Something was moving against your ear, soft and rushed and incoherent. A hand smoothed back your hair. You kept rocking.

“You’re okay.” Words filtered through ringing. “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Over and over. On a loop.

Something encased you. Darkness followed—you were used to darkness.

The pattern of the words lulled your heart back to a normal rate. Tears continued to fall. Your breath was shaky.

“I love you so much,” Azriel broke the repetition, shocking your system. “I love you. I love you—”

A sob wracked your body, the first real sound to leave your mouth. Azriel shushed you in response, but when he buried his face in your neck you felt the wetness of his own cheeks.

This had to be real, it had to. There was no other alternative. You wouldn't survive feeling this way just to be thrust back into that nightmare.

It had to be real, it had to—

“It is,” Azriel choked out. He pulled back, your face in his hands, his expression conveying a picture of pain and love and disbelief. “It’s real, angel. Gods, you’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d—” Words cut off and restarted. “I tried so hard to get to you.”

His forehead met yours.

This was real.

You felt the shadows wisp along your skin.

You could never feel them in dreams.

“I missed you,” you croaked, voice so unused to the words. “So much.”

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut only to open them after not even a breath. Desperate not to lose sight of you. Anguished at the thought of missing the picture of you in his arms.

“I’ve missed you more.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction

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littlemisshyperfixation · 1 month

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Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Series

In the Margins (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.

sweetner (f s) ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word.

Illicit Favors (f s) ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?

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little-diable · 3 months

Text

Not a Ghost - Dean Winchester (smut)

I feel like my Dean fics are always just pwp, but I always try to weave in some plot points, promise. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: For the past ten years, Dean had been forced to accept that she was dead – dead because John hadn't been able to rescue her in time. But what happens when he stumbles upon her in a bar? Not a ghost, but alive and breathing.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, reunion, John is a dick as always

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.3k words)

“You’re staring, it’s getting creepy man,” Sam murmured his words as he gulped down another sip of his beer, eyes following his brother’s line of sight. Dean didn’t reply, eyes fixated on a woman standing a few feet away. The bar was crowded, packed with people neither Sam nor Dean wanted to interact with, and yet Dean’s eyes had been following her around ever since they had stepped into the bar almost an hour ago. “Dean, c’mon man.”

Sam’s hand met his brother’s arm, hoping to finally gain his attention, but Dean barely reacted. The older Winchester brother had his eyebrows furrowed, hand wrapped around the beer bottle he had barely drank from. It wasn’t the first time Sam had caught his brother admiring a woman, god, Dean was famous for loving “frisky women” after all, and yet this was something new, something Sam couldn’t understand.

“Excuse me.” Dean rose to his feet, leaving his confused brother behind without explaining a thing to him. Sam could only watch Dean move through the crowd, coming to a halt in front of the woman whose face Sam hadn’t seen just yet. It was too loud for Sam to pick up on the words Dean spoke, words that forced the woman to slowly turn towards him.

“What the fuck?” With the words rolling off Sam’s tongue, he jumped to his feet, full of confusion, not understanding what was going on. But before Sam could reach the two, she had tugged on Dean’s hand, pulling the man out into the cold.

“How is this possible?” Dean’s words dripped with confusion, arms crossed in front of his chest as if he was trying to protect himself from her. It was too dark for (y/n) to pick up on the tears welling up in his piercingly green eyes, overwhelmed by the sadness washing through him, the sadness he had tried to swallow for the past decade.

She wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to be breathing, wasn’t supposed to be alive.

“How is what possible? You have the fucking nerve to speak to me again after ten fucking years of silence? You packed up and left, Dean!” Her angry words left Dean choking, taking a step back as if she had pushed him. For a second neither of them spoke, engulfed in silence and the sound of Sam slowly stepping closer. The taller brother kept his distance, yet he found himself just as overwhelmed by his emotions, unsure how to react.

“What are you talking about? You are supposed to be dead, I mourned you for ten years, and now I find you here, alive.” Dean’s words dripped with anger, but Sam could clearly pick up on the sadness that thumped through his brother’s veins. This was fucked up, another level of fucked up.

“Dead? Dean, why should I be dead?” No longer was (y/n) close to screaming, she took a step closer to Dean who struggled to keep standing still, body begging him to move away from her. If Sam hadn’t been with him, he would have been sure that this was just his mind fucking with him, hallucinating the woman he had once been engaged to, the woman he had mourned for a decade. But as much as Dean wanted to speak up, to explain what was going on, he couldn’t, too choked up.

(Y/n)’s now glassy eyes flickered to Sam’s, desperate for an explanation as she watched the taller brother take another step closer to interfere. He kept his voice calm as he spoke up, eyes flickering between Dean, who kept staring at her, and (y/n), “It was a Tuesday evening, dad came home after his hunt with you and told us that you died that day, that he had burned your body because there wasn’t any time to lose. He explained every detail, how you had been torn to shreds, how he had tried to save you, but was too hurt himself to react quick enough. I stitched him up that evening, he looked horrible, littered with scars, so there was no doubt, he must have told the truth.”

The gasp that left (y/n) was almost louder than the sob that tried to leave Dean, reminded of the day that haunted him every single night. Tears dripped down both their cheeks, eyes now unable to break contact.

“He, uhm,” she had to clear her throat, trying to wipe away her tears with her sleeves. “That day he told me that you no longer wanted the engagement, but didn’t know how to tell me and that you left that night with Sam. I was so angry, so I also packed up and left, I couldn’t stay. John was with me for a few weeks.” Both brothers could still remember how they had packed their things, how Dean had been driven on by the need to disappear from the house that reminded him of (y/n), and how Sam knew that he couldn’t stay away from Dean, not knowing if he’d try to hurt himself. They hadn’t tried to get in touch with John for a while, guided by the anger of him not being able to save (y/n).

“I will kill him.” Goosebumps rose on Sam’s skin at the tone of Dean’s voice, an unfamiliar tone, full of hatred. But Sam couldn’t blame Dean for his anger, he had been right there, watching his brother suffer for years on end, trying to drown his hurt in alcohol and one-night stands, addicted to hunts and the distraction they offered. Before Sam could even try to speak up, (y/n) had slung her arms around Dean’s waist, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck.

……

“It’s alright, Dean, I won’t let you leave. I promise.” Her voice echoed through the apartment, eyes set on Dean’s face. Sam had made his way back to the motel he and Dean were staying in, while Dean had driven (y/n) and himself back to her place. Neither of them could stop touching one another, still not believing that they were reunited after all these years.

“I don’t know what to believe if I’m being honest, sweetheart. Deep down I always knew he was fucked up, but this? All for what?” Only now did Dean pick up on the hesitation tugging on her features. He rose to his feet with a huff, hand combing through his hair as he growled a raspy “Unbelievable”.

“In those few weeks, he stayed with me, he tried to convince me that he was the better choice, that you had nothing on him. Of course, I didn’t give in, I guess that’s why he eventually left. And I haven’t heard from him since.” She didn’t dare meet his angry gaze, fumbling with her shaking fingers. (Y/n) tried to stop herself from crying once again, knowing that as much as she had struggled the past years, Dean has had it much worse, mourning the person he had wanted to marry.

“I should have known, he was always fascinated by you, some weird obsession I should have paid more attention to. I am sorry, sweetheart, so sorry.” Dean’s hand found her chin, forcing her to lift her gaze. She didn’t get a chance to reply, words stuck in her throat as Dean kissed her breathlessly. The moan clawing through her urged Dean on, pressing her against the kitchen island.

(Y/n)’s fingers found their way to his hair, tugging on his roots with as much strength that forced a growl out of Dean. They couldn’t part, didn’t want to break the kiss, it had been too long since they had gotten the chance to communicate their emotions in a raw way like this. But as much as they wanted to keep on kissing one another, they were also desperate for more, for Dean to bury himself deep inside of her.

“How do you want me?” (Y/n)’s hazy eyes found his piercing green ones, tongue running along her lower lip. She pondered over his words, not once in the past ten years had she believed that she’d get another chance to be loved by Dean Winchester, and now she didn’t know what she wanted. Too many things she needed, too many choices he offered her. His fingers worked on her shirt, tugging it over her head, groaning as his eyes found her chest. Within seconds he had ripped her bra from her frame, lips finding her hardening nipples.

“Fast, rough, fuck, I don’t care. I just need you inside of me.” She had ached for that familiar stretch, had ached for the feeling of his cock filling her, something she had thought of for all these years. Dean hummed, letting the sound vibrate on her skin as he palmed her breasts, while he nudged his hardening cock against her clothed cunt. Curses ripped through (y/n), head rolling back to let go of another heavy moan.

Without another warning, Dean pulled away, turned her around and pressed her front down against the cold surface of her kitchen island. With quick fingers he had pushed her jeans and panties down her legs before she heard him unzip his jeans, before she heard him fumble with a condom wrapper, knowing that as much as he wanted to feel every part of her, they couldn’t risk anything, not now at least.

“I’ll give you fast and rough, baby, but after that I’ll take my sweet time with you.” Dean had pushed into her before she could reply, forcing a deep moan out of the both of them. Both their bodies needed to adjust to one another, even though she was dripping for him, folds covered in her arousal, her cunt still struggled to take all of him. Deep breaths left them both, minds torn between the sweet sensation and the overwhelming wave of emotions clashing through them.

“Move, please. Fuck me like you would have done all these years.” The growl leaving Dean made her breath hitch in her chest, fingers reaching for the edge of the kitchen island to hold on. He pulled out of her only to thrust into her with more force, set on leaving bruises on her hips with the ferocious pace he was about to build.

(Y/n)’s walls clenched around him, fluttering with every thrust that had her seeing stars. No other man had ever fucked her like Dean. Dean, the one she had always loved. Dean, the man she had wanted to grow old with. Dean, the man who had mourned a woman who had waited for his return for all these years. If there was one thing (y/n) was determined about, it was making things right, making up for all these lost years.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing Dean to fuck her deep, hard, fast. It was perfect, cheesy almost with their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. Dean’s fingertips were buried in the flesh of her hips, set on leaving bruises that matched those the kitchen island would leave behind. He was focused on marking her up, claiming her like he had done over a decade ago.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you feel so good. I dreamt of this almost every night.” Dean’s raspy voice left her groaning, eyes squeezed shut to try and hold on. She didn’t want to cum just yet, didn’t want to let go when Dean fucked her this ruthlessly. (Y/n) was too choked up to reply, wanted to tell him how she had always dreamt of him, of the way he touched her, but she couldn’t, she could only moan for him.

“You’re still so fucking tight, squeezing me just right. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” An almost silent “Yes” managed to leave (y/n), coaxing a chuckle out of Dean as he let his fingers find her clit, rubbing her bundle to push her over the edge. She loudly moaned for him, giving into the call of her arising high with her eyes squeezed shut, walls clamping down on his cock.

Dean kept fucking her, forcing his cock deeper into her with every thrust. Moans kept clawing through the both of them as (y/n) came on his cock, allowing Dean to fuck her through her high in search of his own. He kept thrusting into her, head rolling back as his cock twitched, about to fill the condom. The curses leaving Dean made her walls flutter once again, knowing that he’d fuck her all through the night.

With a huff, Dean pulled out of her, throwing away the condom as she slowly turned around, facing him. He moved back towards (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips, hands cupping her warm cheeks to pull her in for a slow kiss.

“You’re still wearing it.” (Y/n) murmured the words as she reached for his hand, looking at the ring she had pushed onto his finger as he had asked her to marry him, wanting Dean to also wear a ring. Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes, thinking of all these years they had lost, years they could have spent together rather than apart.

“Of course I do, I couldn’t take it off, I didn’t even try to.” (Y/n) gave him a soft push back, redressed herself quickly before disappearing in another room – only to reappear seconds later. His green eyes found the ring he had bought her over ten years ago, unable to bite down his smile as she came to a halt in front of him, eyes finding his.

“If you will still have me, I’d like to start wearing it again.” A choked sound left Dean, lips finding hers as he took the ring from her, pushing it back onto the finger it had once rested on all too comfortably.

“I’ll always have you, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #Supernatural smut

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heartpiratedrabbles · 5 months

Text

His Hat

Prompt: Courtesy of @tsunderedonut: Imagine Law putting his hat on his shy, vulnerable S/O that's riding him for the first time.

NSFW

Trafalgar Law X Reader

You have confidence. You’re courageous. You weren’t self-conscience at all. When it came to your job. Being a mechanic for the Polar Tang was like a dream job for you. You stayed in the boiler room watching levels go up and down and you knew exactly how to fix any leaks or breaks that came about. You were ecstatic when the Surgeon of Death came to your shore so long-ago needing repairs and just so happened to see you’re value onboard the ship after fixing everything, eagerly packing your bags to join the crew.

You were not, however, prepared for love. Despite being on the world for over 2 decades, you had only gone on one hap-hazard date that your friend had set you up on, and needless to say it ended up awful. The man flirted with your roommate right in front of you, and despite your naivety, even you knew what he was doing. Plus, with a few undesirable stalkers here and there, you decided dating wasn’t for you. And so, your short, non-existing love life had come to an end.

That is until you joined the Heart Pirates. After getting to know everyone on board you realized your feelings for your captain burned like a wild fire. It was dangerous and weird, being completely new territory compared to what you have felt before. At first you had thought it was some ship-madness, you were warned by your captain/doctor when you arrived that it could take a while to get use to life on a submarine, even more so when they rarely surfaced. But as you went about your duties and getting to know the crew, you realized that your heart never beat that fast around the others, even so you tried to deny such feelings.

You got close to Penguin as he often came to the boiler room for menial tasks and found more out about, your captain. Despite his cold, non-caring demeanor, he always made sure everyone was alright. And although he didn’t show it, he did enjoy the antics played by the crew. Although he demanded his alone time, he was just as often to be found in the rec-room watching as others drank or played a game. Penguin also clued you in that once a month Law joined in on any game of the crews picking to stay connected.

And it wasn’t until you were drinking alongside Penguin, that he confronted you, “So you like Law huh?” He chattered out after taking a swig of his glass. You choked on what you were drinking, nearly spitting it out at his words, your face turning the brightest shade of red he had ever seen. “Jeez, blush any harder and the rest of your body won’t have any blood,” He had laughed out at your reaction.

“What?!?” You practically yelled at him, you felt your body stiffen at the thought and you could hear Shachi in the background ask if Penguin was bullying you. “I don’t like anyone. Never have,” You tried to reason taking the last swig of your drink, you didn’t know the feelings of love. The uncomfortable, painful feelings of unrequited love that made you dumb in the mind and weak in your knees, stomach slightly queasy at the thought of someone.

“Please, you only pay attention to my ramblings when I’m talking about him. No need to be shy Y/N,” Penguin grinned out before reaching over to fill your glass up again, “Just relax. Feelings aren’t going to hurt you.” You looked around to see if anyone else was listening in but other than Shachi glancing at you two from across the room, everyone else seemed occupied.

The thought of sharing your life with someone, with Law of all people, everything from the simple hand holding to the fantasies of sharing a bed, going on small dates and being marked in one way or another. You shake your head violently to get rid of such things before downing your entire glass. “There’s no way Penguin.” You squeaked out not making eye contact with him.

“Denile will get you no where Y/N. Just accept it, I didn’t realize you were such a virgin when it came to matters of the heart,” He laughed at your misery, and how your eyes fixed on a portion of the table in front of you.

“I don’t have feelings Penguin! Feelings are messy squishy things that don’t make sense. I��m not stupid enough to let something I can’t control distract me from my life,” You pipe out quickly, grabbing the bottle from the man’s hands to take another swig. He smirked at you, unconvinced of your words, “Just because I sometimes think about him doesn’t mean anything!” You immediately stop, eyes wide as you look at Penguin, whose smirk has turned into a full toothed grin.

“You’re right! Feelings don’t make sense. But you can’t stop them from happening,” He gleefully said, “Excuse me one second.” You watch as he stood up, “You owe me 20 Berries Shachi!” He yelled across the room while walking over to the grumbling crewmember.

You slam your head against the table with a ‘thud’. Feelings. Sure, you imagined how it would feel like to have the captain by your side, to be able to capture his eyes and keep him for yourself. You held your breathe at such thoughts, that could never happen. Hiding your face in your arms, you heard Penguin return to his seat but you couldn’t look at him.

Over the next couple of weeks, the pair would make quips and remarks of your crush if you were alone with them, instantly making you freeze like an ice cube. The prodding from them had made your feelings all the more evident to yourself and it had made it harder and harder to bury such fuzzy emotions. You weren’t the most social of person, but now you found it harder than ever to talk to anyone, the embarrassment and fear of them finding out about your unrequited feelings being too much for you to bear. The only time you’d be able to speak confidently is if it was about work, it was easy to avoid emotions when you had to think in facts and bury them with work.

That is, until you noticed a particularly important part starting to show signs of breaking. Best to take care of it now than be in trouble later, you headed to your Captains office for approval to buy the new part. He hadn’t been expecting you but happily let you into his quiet office. You stood in front of his desk explaining the issue and how it’d be better to replace it now and he seemed to agree.

But as you turned to leave, he called out, “Y/N-ya,” you stopped in your tracks. Had one of your maintenance reports not been up to par? You’re back still turned to him your mind was reeling at what you could have messed up but you were certain there was no way you would turn in half-assed work. And then, your mind suddenly stopped. Realizing where you were, who you were talking to. Your heart beating faster, cheeks turning slightly red. “I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me recently,” Law’s voice rang out in the room, his smooth deep voice, addressing you and not something to do with your job. “Did I do something wrong?”

You pick your head up slightly at the last sentence, snapping around to face him head on, frantically trying to reassure that it has nothing to do with him, “I just haven’t been feeling well-“ You quickly pipe out not thinking of anything else as you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

Law perks up at your sudden excuse, immediately standing up, taking long strides to get to you quickly. A hand immediately going to your forehead, freezing at the sudden contact you feel your cheeks burn up, “You do seem to have a fever,” He muttered to himself before activating his powers to transport the both of you to the med bay. “Sit down real quick,” He demanded as he went to grab a stethoscope.

It was hard to breathe. Here you were with a stupid school-girl crush, making your Captain worried over nothing. Yet you couldn’t quite seem to find the right words, trying to push off your illness as a quick thing that’d be gone soon. But Law would hear none of it. Quickly he listened to your heart, asking you to breathe in and out as you whine out that it’s truly nothing. It’s not until he places a hand on your back to keep you from shying away that he realized your heart beating faster at his own touch.

He quickly glanced up at your face, that you were desperately trying to hide from him by staring at the far corner away from him. “Are you truly unwell Y/N-ya?” He firmly asked, demanding a truthful answer.

And just like that your Captain found out your feelings for him. You rushed to your room the second you felt his touch leave you to ignore the rejection you refused to hear. And it wasn’t until the next day that Law had come to find you of his own accord, asking you out on a date the next time they reached land.

~~~

That was months ago, 6 months to be precise. And ever since you had been dating the man in front of you. You still couldn’t believe it, it felt unreal. “It seems like your mind is elsewhere love,” He leaned up to give you a peck on the lips, gently taking your hands in his.

You had decided to try and be forward yourself this time round, and couldn’t help but feeling like backing out now. You had certainly had sex before but it was never like this, not when the lights were still on, not when you could see his reactions. The simple fact sending your head reeling at how hot Law was underneath you.

You had lured him back to his room, claiming you needed to talk to him. You had been slightly jealous of how he was talking to a bar maiden on land and immediately confronted him, only now losing your nerve. The second he stepped into the room you had slammed the door shut and pushed him on the bed, straddling him before you were going to ride him. But the second you got on top of him your mind started working again. This was also the first time you were truly on top of him, looking down at him, seeing how he stared back up at you with heat in his eyes. You cheeks become more red as you avoid his gaze.

“What were you going to do now that we’re alone?” Law smirks while looking at you, no doubt enjoying how flustered you looked. He gripped your hips before jutting his own up into you. You fall forward, the movement snapping you out of your daze.

“I. I was,” You try to stutter out as he lifts your shirt up, and you let him rip it off you, his eyes staring right into you. You look down slightly, still avoiding eye contact, “I was gonna remind you that your mine.” You whisper, embarrassed at the thought now.

Law gleefully shifts, taking off his own shirt in the process, “And how were you going to do that?” He urges you to continue. Law enjoyed watching how flustered you could get, despite dating for a decent amount of time you still couldn’t control yourself in situations where he’s giving you all his attention. Looking down at him, you quickly cover his eyes with one of your hands.

“No looking,” You whine out as you start to get off him, “You have to give me a second.” Law chuckles a bit but goes to move his hat, which had fallen a couple inches away when you pushed him, over his eyes, assuring you he won’t take a peek. After a quick second of making sure he can’t see you, you stand up fully.

You look at the man in front of you before turning around, taking off your pants quickly, glancing over your shoulder just to be sure. Law decides humming will distract him in this situation. Frustrated at your playful boyfriend, you get to work on his pants, him lifting his hips slightly to help you undress him. His cock springing up as you release it from its cloth prison.

Law lets you widen his legs as you kneel between them, stopping just inches away from his dick. You see movement from the corner of your eye and snap your head back up, “No peeking!” You yell out more embarrassed at your own actions than anything else. Law puts his arm back down, deciding to keep quiet for the time being.

You take one more deep breath before you wrap your lips around him. Slowly bobbing your head up and down, covering his member in saliva. The salty taste of his precum making you go insane with desire. Your slow pacing doesn’t seem up to Law’s standards as he bucks his hips forward, making you gag in the process. You place both your hands on his hips to try and control your boyfriend, and while he didn’t stop entirely from pumping his hips towards your head, he was a little gentler.

“Fuck Y/N-ya,” Law groaned out when you sat up, leaving his cock wanting for more. You looked up to make sure he still couldn’t see you and sighed when you saw the hat still in place. Readjusting yourself to now be sitting on him again you could hear him take a sharp breath. His throbbing cock in one hand, aiming it towards your entrance as you sink down on him slowly. It felt completely different than normal. You were in control, and every inch was touching you in places you didn’t think was possible. The pleasure already overwhelming.

You try to hold in your own moan as you sink lower, feeling impossibly full as he bottoms out in you. You sit there for a second, hands on Law’s abs to steady yourself, holding your breath at this new pleasure you’ve discovered before grinding your hips, feeling him deep inside you. You finally remember to breathe after Law decides to thrust up into you, falling forward on his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pinning you to him. You gasp for air, moaning his name as he sets a brutal pace.

“L-Law,” You moan out in frustration and you look up to see him shift his head to peek out from under the hat, with an absolutely devilish grin on his face.

He places a kiss on your forehead, “Yes love?” He thrusts into you again and you wiggle one of your arms free, prying yourself out of his arms to sit back up. Only to be met with another wave of pleasure at the different angle. You mind becoming empty of most thoughts as you hear the man below you chuckle. He reaches up taking his hat and placing it on your head, caressing your body before landing both his hands on your hips. You gasp a bit as he holds you down slightly, feeling him twitching inside you.

With some encouragement from his large hands, you start to ride Law like there’s no tomorrow. Barely being able to breathe yourself as he hits every sensitive part of you. Every now and then stopping to feel how full you feel with him in you. Tears brimming your eyes as your mind is flooded with pleasure and lust.

Laws eyes devour you, savoring every inch as he watches you bounce on him. Your head lulled back and forth; mouth hung open as you scream his name. His hat would be covering your eyes if you hadn’t been continuously pushing it up before going back to steadying yourself on him. The sight before him being a drug he never knew he was addicted too until you had come around. He feels you twitch around him and he stops his own thrusts, gripping your hips to stop you from moving any further.

“Law!” you scream out at the lack of movement, grinding your hips for any friction. He smirks up at you, not responding, watching as you desperately try to bounce despite not being able too. Law slowly raises his hips, holding your hips in the same spot, reaching deeper than before and it begins to feel like it too much. You cry trying to squirm, move, anything to help relieve the pressure that was making you insane. “Please Law,” you beg him to do something.

You can barely see his face underneath you, the hat falling over your eyes, but you’re certain Law has a smirk on his face as he ignores your pleads. Gasping for air you finally fall forward, gripping your boyfriends’ shoulders, “It’s too much- Please Law,” You beg into his chest trying to move even an inch over feeling how deep he is. How you can still feel him twitch slightly inside of you at every moan and plead. Making your mind numb from the overwhelming pleasure and pressure building up.

After a quick second, Law lifts your chin with one of his hands, the other still firmly planted on your hip, “You’re adorable Y/N-ya.” Law whispers it while staring right into your tear stained eyes, kissing you gently before suddenly flipping you over so that you are now on your back. How he stayed inside of you was a mystery but the feeling drove you insane as he hooking both your legs over his shoulders, pounding into you fast and hard.

You try to grip the bed underneath you to stabilize yourself before you looked up to see how Law was looking at you. The insatiable devil in front of you looking directly at all the faces you made as you continued to moan his name. The realization of what he was doing, angling every now and then and licking his lips as you twisted about, he loved watching you. You quickly grab the brim of his hat, pulling it over your face to avoid his gaze.

This brought about 2 different things in this intense moment. One was the immense and heavenly smell of Law’s hair, the shampoo he used that drove you crazy while you played with his hair, and the second being Law leaning forward, your legs still hooked over his shoulders as he continued to ruin you. Crying out as he stole your lips, shoving his tongue into your mouth while adjusting his hat to be properly on your head. “Don’t hide from me,” He growled out in desire before recapturing your lips.

You move your hands to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss while one hand rakes its way through his hair and the other digging your nails into his back. You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly and you tugged at his hair to release your lips, “Law please. I want you to cum~”

He leans down to leave marks on your neck as you scream out his name, “Are you ready?” He asks one last time into your ears and you can barely reply to him as pleasure is overfilling you. Law quickly following suit, slowing down only after you felt him fill you. The both of you stay there for a second, catching your breaths.

Law’s the first one to move, slowly pulling out and gently putting your legs down, knowing how they were numb at this point. You groan at soreness from being empty but can feel his seed slipping out of you. “This is dangerous,” Law smiles at you from his standing position as you stare at him, still on cloud nine.

“What is?” You mutter out, looking at him from half-lidded eyes.

He leans down close to you, giving a gentle kiss before peppering them down your neck to your collarbone, “You only wearing my hat. It’s absolutely hypnotic.” He breathes into your neck with lust still in his voice.

#One Piece #One Piece X Reader #One Piece Smut #Trafalgar Law #Law X Reader

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writingsbychlo · 5 months

Text

IS IT NEW YEARS YET? | lorenzo berkshire

summary; you're not a huge fan of new years, since when was it all about couples, anyway? luckily, someone else is in the same boat.

word count; 6712

notes; this is completely unedited, it's bound to be riddled with mistakes. this is the second to last christmas fic, just my baby mattheo to go! I saved the best for last.

Sitting at the table, you did your very best to hide the scowl sitting on your face. Pansy had left you only a moment ago to dance with Luna, Astoria had pulled Draco away onto the floor ages ago, and Blaise was off flirting up a storm with every girl possible. Regulus was sulking at the bar with his brother, while Mattheo and Theo had long since snuck away to smoke and hide from the party.

That just left you. Sat alone at the table, trying not to get too drunk as you watched all the happy couples around you mingle. The Christmas period had always been so fun, but lately, it only seemed to be a holiday for couples. Which, really wasn’t fair, in your opinion. They already had Valentine’s Day, why the fuck did they need this one, too?

However, everything seemed to be spinning around kissing at midnight, and dancing, and romance, and Luna’s bag full of grapes, for whatever that was about. You’d tuned out when she’d begun explaining.

Glancing around the room in search of the only remaining member of your party who was unaccompanied, perhaps a little reprieve from the loneliness, you spotted Enzo near his parent's table. He looked, in a single word, uncomfortable. Scratching at the back of his neck, he wore a scowl, and while you couldn't hear over the loud music and chatter what he was saying all that distance away, it was clear that he wasn’t happy.

His mother glared at him, and his anger dimmed only a second, a flash of fear in his eyes, a bob of his throat, but he didn’t back down. Finishing off the last of your drink and standing, the sequins of your dress glitter under the lights, falling perfectly in the simple, floor-length dress you’d chosen for the evening.

As you wove through the bodies, heels clicking on the floor, you started to be able to pick out the deep rumble of his voice throughout the other conversations. He didn’t have a great relationship with his parents. Certainly, not as bad as others in the group, but strained He rarely wrote them, he only ever went home at Christmas and Summer, and they never came to visit. In almost a decade of knowing Enzo, you’d perhaps spoken to them three times, and once, was merely your introduction.

“I’m not going to date a girl I don’t know just because you think I ought to!”

Your brows furrowed, stilling momentarily as his words raced through your mind. Regulus’ parents had tried to set him up with someone recently too, only six months ago, they’d sent him letter after letter about the eligible girls from other noble families he could woo. You’d gone pale upon discovering your own name on the list, quite highly ranked, and Regulus had assured you that as much as he loved you dearly as a friend, he had absolutely no interest in pursuing you romantically. Nor, any of the girls on the list.

However, you hadn't expected Enzo’s parents to leap on him so fast. Your mother had been making some subtle comments about relationships lately, but nothing nearly so bold, not since your break-up. Enzo dragged a hand through his hair as he groaned, this conversation obviously wasn’t going in his favour, and you pitied him.

In a generous mood, you finished your walk, closing in by his side and putting on the charming smile that you knew could win over any adult or peer, with a few simple words and a bat of your lashes. Anyone, except, perhaps Enzo’s mother. Her eyes narrowed on you as you placed a hand on Enzo’s lower back, standing respectably by his side, by far closer than could be considered friendly, as you smiled up at him.

“Enzo, sweetie, Draco is looking for you.”

“Wh— What?” His brows pulled together, obviously confused, and you slipped your arm around his waist, settling in by his side.

“Lorenzo, who’s your friend?” His mother’s cold tone sliced through the space between you as his gaze scanned over your features.

“Hi, Mrs Berkshire.” You held your hand out offering your name, and she only hummed, shaking it loosely before returning her hand to her side, elegantly. “I’m Enzo’s… well, we haven’t quite figured out terms yet, have we? I’m his date tonight… at least, I hope?”

He did well to hide his flicker of surprise, before finally seeming to understand the aim of the game, his arm snaking around your body like a boyfriend might do, and curling you further into his side. “Of course you are, darling.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Your giggle was far more high-pitched and sweet than usual, but the tension bled from his mother’s shoulders just a fraction, as she analysed the pair of you. For emphasis, Enzo leaned in to press a polite kiss to your temple, and you stretched your smile wider, like a happy girlfriend would. “I’m so sorry to have interrupted, I promised Draco I’d find you, and you left me all alone at the table. I was starting to miss you, but now I see you were doing something important. I thought perhaps you’d snuck away with the boys.”

The piercing gaze of his mother drilled into you, but you didn’t falter, or show any weakness. In your social circles, one cowering sign was just an opening for snapping teeth at throats, and you wouldn't give anyone such an opportunity.

“Why would you now simply tell us that you had a date, Lorenzo?” His mother eventually questioned, finally dragging her stare away from you and back to her son, and you felt like you could breathe again at last.

“Well, as you heard my girl say,” He murmured, stumbling only slightly over the words, and recovering them smoothly with a cough. “We haven’t settled on any kinds of labels yet. I didn’t want to be presumptuous, or too forward.”

“And how long have you been seeing one another?” She wasted no time, raising a brow.

“Just two months.” You smiled, and she flickered her sights to you for only a moment. “You raised a real gentleman, Mrs Berkshire. He’s been so patient and sweet, it can be so hard to find times between classes to see one another and spend time together. We’ve been taking it slow. I apologise if I come as a surprise to you tonight, that’s my fault. I asked Enzo not to write to you, because I haven’t told my own parents yet, you see.”

Leaning in to whisper your joke, as if you were passing secret information;

“My father can be a little over-protective, I wanted to spare Enzo, so I knew my father wouldn't scare him away.”

At that finally, a smirk broke on her lips. She made a vague sound of agreement, and you could feel your friend relax a little where your hand was rubbing his side, gently. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. Lorenzo, you may leave for now. But I do not expect to be kept in the dark on such matters again.”

Waggling a finger at him, he only nodded, eyes wide. “Of course, Mother. It won’t happen again.”

Leaning in to kiss her cheek, he gave a hurried goodbye, before steering you away with his arm still around you, and guiding you back toward the other side of the room. When you were far enough away he knew his parents wouldn't hear them, he let out a shaky laugh, and turned to look down at you.

“I don’t know if you’re brave, stupid, or both. Taking on my mother like that? Impressive, and also insane.”

“You have a funny way of saying ‘thank you’, Berkshire.” You tutted, and he only grinned. Dipping down, he kissed your cheek now, coming to a stop beside your table.

“Thank you, for saving me back there.”

“Well, you seemed like you needed a save.” You shrugged, his arm still looped around your waist, hand on your lower back, rubbing lightly as he looked around the room.

“You don’t have an actual date, right?” Leaning in, his breath brushed your ear, and you shuddered at the feel, “Because there’s a guy over there glaring at me like I kicked his dog.”

His fingers touched your cheek, guiding your gaze to casually follow where he had been looking. As your eyes fixed on the man on the other side of the dance floor, you hardly concealed a scoff. He wasn’t glaring, so much as staring with curiosity now that you were the one looking. He smoothed a hand up his girlfriend’s leg as she sat beside him engaged in another conversation, not noticing where his attention now lingered.

Turning your gaze away with a heavy sigh, your motions caused you to curl a little further into Enzo, who leant back enough to look down at you. “Is that the dickhead-ex that broke up with you in a letter a few months ago?” He whispered, and you could only nod, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

Over him, you might be, but that didn’t make it sting any less. You’d suspected for a while he might be cheating, based on how soon he’d moved on, how ingratiated into his social circles she seemed, but this was the first time you’d ever seen her.

She was pretty.

“That would be the one.” You replied, and Enzo only hummed, freeing his other hand from his pocket to tip your face up, an act that was far more intimate than any touch the two of you had ever shared. His thumb smoothed over your cheek, flicking a gaze back to the other side of the room and smirking slightly. “I don’t need to make him jealous, Enz. As much as I appreciate the sentiments, this is unnecessary.

It wasn't needed, but you couldn't deny it felt good. Felt good to be held again, to settle your hands on someone’s chest, to feel his steady heartbeat under your palm as he touched you so tenderly. “I know, but isn’t it nice? To make him see what he let go, to show him how you should’ve been treated. We’re stuck together all night anyway, might as well make it count for you too.”

“Why is it that we’re stuck together?” You murmured, scowling a little at his choice of words, even more so when he only chuckled. You both knew he didn’t mean it like that, but it felt better to channel a little bitterness than let in the hurt.

“My parents now believe we’re a couple. Your heroic act of saving me now has consequences.” He clicked his tongue, his hand smoothing down to your neck, thumb under your chin to force you to look up at him.

“I figured you’d sneak away to see the other boys once I got you out.”

“And abandon my doting girlfriend who comes to my rescue?” He gasped dramatically, shaking his head, and a small laugh fell from your lips. “I would never. So, what do you say? I’m in your debt, let me be your real date for the night. I promise I’m a fun date.”

“You don’t have to beg, Lorenzo. I’ll let you be my date.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen me beg yet.” He smirked, a wicked look glinting in his eye, before he stepped back from you. Slipping the hand from your waist to slip into your own, he grasped tightly. “How about we go and get a drink?”

“I have a drink.”

“A real drink. I hate champagne, and I know you do too.” He cringed at the sight of your half-drunk glass, and didn’t wait for an answer, beginning to lead you both through the party and towards the bar.

Settling in together, he pulled out a stool for you, tapping at the surface of it for you to sit on. When you shifted towards it, his hands settled on your waist, boosting you up to sit on it, and winking at the surprised sound that slipped free.

He flagged down the bartender with a quick wave, before stepping in closer to your side, his hand finding a home on your lower back once again. Your spine was stiff, and you tried to convince yourself to relax, mumbling your drink order to the waitress as she passed by and took them both.

Leaning back into his touch, he responded in kind, hand rubbing up and down your back softly, and turning to face you. Twisting your body on the stool, your knee bumped into his thigh, and your hand dropped to sit over the top of his on the bar before you.

“So, didn’t expect your parents to be pushing your impending marriage so hard.” You murmured, tracing a finger over the prominent veins and marks in his hand, along each finger, all the way to the tips until they twitched, before returning to the back of his hand. On one finger sat a prominent family ring, the Slytherin ring on his thumb, and a couple of varied bands stacked amongst the others. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like I’m far too young to be considering marriage. I haven’t seen the world yet, I’ve never been in love. Not— Not that soul-shredding, intense kind of love. I want to experience that at least once. I want to pick my own wife.” He shook his head, casting you a downtrodden look, a pout on his lips. “Doesn’t seem like that’ll be in the playing cards for me.”

“You could always leave. After we graduate, we get to leave. Maybe you should just… run.”

He only raised a brow at you, shaking his head slightly. It was a stupid suggestion, really. There wasn’t a place he could go that he wouldn't be followed by the reputation of his family, of his magical status. Unless he were to give it all up, disappear as a muggle, and spend the rest of his life feeling like he’d chopped off a limb, or had a vital organ removed.

“Sorry. Dumb thing to say.”

“No, it was sweet. You were just trying to be comforting.” He whispered, and the drinks were placed down before you both. Pushing your drink to you with two fingers, you tapped them together gently, glass clinking, before taking a sip of your cocktail. “I might milk this little situation you’ve gotten us into for a while, though. Let my parents believe I’m courting you back at Hogwarts, and when we call it quits, I’ll be heartbroken. I’ll tell them I need time to get over you.”

Shaking your head with a small laugh, the sound brought a smile to his face.

“I’ll milk that one too. I reckon I can buy myself… at least a year, all in all.”

“Only a year, is that all my fictional love is worth?” You raised a hand to your chest, and he stepped even closer, playing into the act as his arm tightened around your waist.

“You’re right. You're the one. When you leave me, I’ll be devastated. I’ll never get over it. You’ll be my one that got away.” He gave a heavy sigh, a groan at the end of it, slumping slightly into the bar and only increasing his dramatics as you giggled. “Don’t leave me, I’ll be better! I’ll buy you more flowers, I’ll stop sleeping with my secretary!”

You were gathering odd looks at his declaration, an older couple behind you tittering disapprovingly but you didn’t care. Not as he straightened back up, standing closer to you still, and smiling at you so widely. Your cheeks flushed as he took in your features, and you sipped at the cold alcohol in your glass, fingers raising to your cheeks to hide the blush.

“Truly, though. Thank you. That was sweet of you, you didn’t have to step in for me.”

“I know, but you’re my friend. One of my best friends. I know you’d help me out in a pinch, too.” Your hand fell back to his, toying with the house ring on his thumb, and he twisted his hand to give you better access. Such a small gesture, but you appreciated it nonetheless, as he fed into your anxious habits with no extra thought, your chest flooding with warmth and gratitude for him.

“I would, but, my parents are more than just a pinch. You were brave, my mum likes to pride herself on being intimidating.”

“She doesn’t have to like me, but I knew she wouldn't hurt me.” He raised his brows, silently questioning, and you looked at his hand. Unfolding his loose fist, you laced your fingers through his. “You were there with me. I knew she wouldn't hurt me.”

His hand tightened around yours, and his throat bobbed slightly. Lifting your raised hands, he kissed your knuckles softly. Instead of finding words to respond, he used gestures, his eyes fixed on yours as everything that needed to be said shone in them. He wasn’t his parents you saw him for that and trusted him. This was real, it wasn’t just for show, and when he moved his lips from your skin, you cupped his cheek with your other hand.

“I know you’re good, Enzo.” You whispered, a fragile tone for just him to hear over the music, and his smile wobbled from flirty to heartfelt. “You’ve been my friend for so long now, I feel pretty confident in saying I know who you are.”

“Thank you.” His words came on a rushed sigh, and you swiped your thumb across his cheekbone one final time, before pulling away to clasp your drink and take a sip. He kept a tight grip on your other hand, though, clasping it to his chest momentarily, before resting your joined hands back on the bar. “So, what have I got to do to get you to dance with me out there?”

“Oh, no. I don’t dance at these things.” You shook your head quickly, and his grin only stretched at that prospect. At the look on his face, you waved a finger at him. “I have never danced at one of these things before. You aren’t the first guy to ask. I. Don’t. Dance.”

“I say you can.” He snickered, humming a fragment of the song as your eyes rolled. Leaning in a little closer to him, his wicked, flirty smile was back. Your nose brushed his.

“Not a chance.”

He seemed to accept the challenge, finishing off the whiskey that was in his glass. He wasn’t giving up, and you knew for certain that once Enzo set his mind to something, he achieved it. He waved to the bartender again, ignoring her flirty smile as he placed his order with two fingers raised, “Can I get two shots of tequila, please?”

“Make it four.” You muttered, and his eyes sparkled as he corrected himself. Finishing off your own drink, you pushed the empty glass toward his own, nothing but an overly saturated berry left in the bottom. “How’d you know tequila is my go-to for shots?”

“Because, my darling, I am observant. In fourth year, you legitimately gagged when we gave you Sambuca to try and you refuse to touch it even to this day, you say vodka tastes like nail polish, and you never drink whiskey or rum. And, only a psychopath would shoot gin.” His nose scrunched up, and four shot glasses were soon placed down before you, each one being filled up, a few droplets escaping to the bar. A dish of salt and limes followed, and you awed silently over it as he wiggled his brows.

“Fancy, we get the fruit, too.”

“Always impressive these days, every family trying to one-up each other with parties.” He handed you your first shot, clinking your glasses together and spilling some of the sticky amber liquid onto your fingertips. Sprinkling salt on your hand, he winked, “Cheers.”

Licking the salt from his own fingertips, you copied, licking the substance from the back of your hand. Quickly, you did your first shot, then the next, and before you could even reach for one, Enzo was pushing a slice of lime between your lips. He’d surely smudged your lipstick, and juice was now running down your chin, but he caught it with a quick swipe of his thumb, grinning around the citrus in his mouth as he sucked it dry, and winced.

Pulling the lime out from between your teeth, laughter soon spilt over in its place, and you left the half-drained slice in one of the empty glasses. Licking the tips of your fingers for the remaining tequila, Enzo watched, eyes a little foggy, as you cleaned up. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Why?” You muttered, and he leaned in again, invading your space as the woodsy smell of his cologne overpowered you, making you want to press your face into his neck. Instead, you held his gaze, with bated breath.

“Because it’s hot. And I’m only so strong.”

“Are you flirting with me, Enz?” You smirked, watching as he offered you his hand. Taking it, you hopped down from the bar stool, waiting for the effects of the shots to kick in, ready to welcome the numbing buzz they’d carry.

“Most definitely. You like it?”

“I do, actually.”

Linking your arm through his own as he led you slowly to the dance floor, he patted your hand on his bicep. “You could try to sound less shocked by that. I’m great at flirting.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen you put it into use before. That pretty smile, a few sweet words and a wink, you normally have women falling at your feet.”

As you reached the edge of the floor, he turned to face you, settling a hand on your hip, and tugging you in closer than needed. “But not you? Because you’re different to other girls.”

“Oh, no. I’m just like other girls. And it would work on me too, if I didn’t know you so well. Unfortunately, I’ve watched you throw up in your own shoe and eat food off the floor. You’ll have to work a little harder to get me.” Pinching your fingers between your faces to show a gap, he watched, before taking that hand and placing it on his shoulder, smoothly.

“I love a good challenge.”

With that, he was sweeping you across the floor, your shocked laughter breaking free as he spun you suddenly into the madness of the dance floor. Perfected routines and perfect dances, and even in your addled mind, the steps began to come back to you. You’d always thought that there was something so eerie about the dances, the melancholic music that played, always building to a crashing crescendo.

It felt like music with a tragic tale, spinning and dipping and dancing, like a Shakespeare play given music instead of words. Rows of perfectly organised dancers, all moving in perfect sync and harmony.

Luckily, tonight, that structure seemed to have fallen apart a little. Various levels of dancing skills were taking place. Some were just swaying, others were performing flips and spins that made you dizzy, as you and Enzo settled somewhere in the middle. His hand tight on your waist, the other clasping your own, he spun you between people, guiding you towards the centre of the floor.

“I thought you said you didn’t dance!”

“I don’t, that doesn’t mean I can’t. My mother had me in lessons three times a week as a child. I am an excellent dancer.” Glancing around, it was mercifully informal tonight, not the regimented performances it sometimes could be. “This whole… thing. It just creeps me out sometimes.”

“When they all dance in perfect, synchronised lines, like some kind of terrifying ballet performance?” He muttered, smiling and nodding as you wove past an older couple.

“Yes!”

“I get you,” He hummed, shuddering a little. Ahead of you both, Draco was spinning a smiling Astoria, and he looked utterly exhausted by this point. She didn’t seem ready to stop dancing any time soon, though.

As he spun you back in, your arm wrapped around his neck this time, holding yourself closer to him and calming the crazy dance he’d drawn you into. He was smiling himself, cheeks flushed from the exertion, and as you began to move into a slower sway, his cheek came to rest against the top of your head.

“You ever dance at one of these parties with your ex?”

“I told you, I don’t dance.” You mumble, the arm around his neck sliding, hand slipping to brush lightly at the hair on the base of his neck. He stretched his head a little further, leaning into the touch with a soft sigh.

“You didn’t dance,” He corrected cheekily, pinching at your hip, and your eyes rolled upwards at his pedantic behaviour. “Your ex is watching us.”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

He made a vague noise before turning you subtly, so that you could see him now. The displeased look on his face, the narrowed eyes as he watched you and Enzo, and the way he turned in a flustered rush once he realised you’d caught him. “You may not care, but I’m getting a sick sort of satisfaction from it. I had to watch you hurt over him, even when you tried to pretend you weren’t. The way your face fell that day in the hall when you opened that letter, I’ll never forget it.”

“Enz…” Your whisper is barely audible, his own words mumbled by your ear so low they were barely decipherable. Goosebumps still rose along your skin at the snarl he made, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he shook his head.

Dipping down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, so tender and loving that you felt your heart skip in your chest. “He’s a dick, and I wish I could do a lot more to him than just pork a few holes in his ego tonight. He deserves a right kicking.”

“I was over him long before that letter came. The distance had been growing.”

“Maybe so, but he’s still a prick.” Turning you around and around in slow circles, you gained and lost sight repeatedly each scene just a little different from the last. He was putting on a show, that was for sure, as Enzo took you for turns around the dance floor. One moment he had his new girlfriend in a passionate kiss, the next she was laughing as she stared up at him, the next, whispering sweet words in her ear.

If you could see it, you were sure Enzo could too, his grip tightening on you protectively. Leaning up, you returned the affection, pulling his focus back to you as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s go get another drink, yeah? I could use some hydration after all this dancing.”

He looked right through you, like he knew it was a distraction, and yet he nodded anyway, jaw clenched. This time, you took one of his hands in both of yours, leading him through the crowd as his fingers clutched your own.

Settling at the bar, you called for two waters, before turning your gaze back to him.

“Wish I could just push them both in the fireplace, and watch them burn.”

His words made your eyes widen slightly, and you pressed a glass into his hand the moment they arrived, encouraging him to drink. “Enzo, why are you so bothered about this all of a sudden?”

“Because— Because I can see him now! And he’s a jackass, and I’m already mad enough about my parents, and the fact it’s this stupid day. I need something to channel my anger into, and he’s a mighty good conduit.” He took another swig of his drink, jaw clenching as he slammed the empty glass down and licked his lips.

Placing a finger on his chin, you twisted his head to you, and he softened slightly as he looked. “Not a fan of New Year's, huh?”

“Not a fan of the holidays in general. Especially once I have to go home.” Your heart clenched for him. The expression on your face must’ve given you away, because he soon shrugged. “I used to love the holiday period, but nowadays, all my parents do is get at me. Plus, being single at Christmas sucks, y’know? Since when was this time all about love? I thought it was supposed to be about generosity and love and whatever. Now it’s all about couples.”

Your jaw dropped a little, and his brows furrowed.

“What?”

Enzo had just echoed the exact sentiments you’d been thinking about only a couple of hours ago, and a breathless laugh escaped you as you shook your head. At least he understood you. “Nothing. Just, I was thinking the same thing, earlier.”

“Great minds.” He whispered, shaking a little tension out of his body and closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the fire was dulled, sweet sparkle back, and he loosed a heavy breath. “Sorry. That got heavy.”

“I’m always here for you to talk, Enz.”

He smiled, eyes closing again as he rested his forehead on yours, tugging you in with arms around your waist for a hug. His face moved, chin hooking over your shoulder, with a kiss pressed there as he did, which sent your pulse skyrocketing at the feel of his lips on your skin. “I love you, you know that, right? You’re one of the most important people in my life.”

“Love you too, Enzo…” You murmured, running your fingers through his hair. He pulled away, a shy smile on his face, and he nudged your glass to you this time.

“Drink up. I want to get you back out on that dance floor. I take pride in knowing I’m the only man you’ll dance with.”

“Because you’re the most insistent man I’ve ever met. I know that if I said no, you’d only spend the whole night bugging me.”

“It’s charming how well you know me.” He teased, and your eyes rolled, resulting in a soft slap to the outside of your thigh as he tutted at you, mumbling about your attitude. “Oh, incoming.”

“Who—” You barely got the word out before an arm was slung over your shoulder, a heavy weight following as they leaned on you. Mattheo beamed at you lazily when you turned your head to see. Theo soon followed, shuffling his feet a little, and rubbing at his eyes. The second he saw the half-drunk glass of water in your hands, he lunged for it, managing to get the whole thing down in one go, without evening coming up for breath. “Jeez, how baked are you two?”

“Theo brought some good shit this time,” Mattheo murmured, kissing his fingers and waving them to the air, and Theo gave a delayed scoff after a couple of seconds.

“I always bring good shit.”

“Agree to disagree.” Mattheo smiled, bopping his friend on the nose, as Enzo only laughed.

“So, that’s where you two have been, huh? Outside smoking all night.”

“Not all night,” Theo smirked, waggling his brows as he produced his phone from his back pocket. “I spent a good deal of time flirting. I got six girls’ numbers, and Matt here only got four.”

He set off snickering as Mattheo only grumbled, and the moment he loosened his hold on you, you slipped free so he could lean against the bar instead. You didn’t get far, not before Enzo was snaking an arm around you, and tugging you into his chest. Theo might have been higher than a kite, but he didn’t miss the way Enzo’s touches trailed over your back, settling low on your spine. He smirked, eyes glinting when Enzo dropped an absentminded kiss to the top of your head.

“So, what’s new with you two?”

“We’re dating now.” Enzo beamed, and Mattheo spluttered over his drinks order, the bartender wandering way as Mattheo turned to face you, and Theo’s jaw dropped. “Or, at least, that’s what we’re letting my parents believe, so they’ll hop off my dick about marrying some stranger.”

You pat his chest for his use of words, and he shrugged. Finally, Draco seemed to have persuaded Astoria to let him go. She was now happily dancing with her sister, as Draco stumbled over to your group at the bar, and collapsed down onto a free stool.

“That girl has more energy than a toddler on crack.”

“Interesting metaphor.” You said, and Draco only patted his chest, sticking an extra glass of water and a whiskey onto Mattheo’s order as he tried to get a drink once again. Turning his gaze back to you, those grey eyes slid from head to toe, a pale brow raising.

“What’s with you two?”

“Haven’t you heard, Dray?” Theo mused, “They’re dating.”

He had a similar reaction to the other two, equally as entertaining until the news was broken, and you hid your laughter in Enzo’s shoulder. He was smiling, hiding his own amusement in your hair, his fingers playing with the tips as the strands spilt down your back.

The night went on much the same, hours blurring by as more friends came and went, joining you in the group, before being pulled away. For a while, you sat on the stool beside Enzo, listening to Mattheo retell the story of their competition to get numbers.

You let Enzo pull you onto the dance floor again, and even Mattheo, who swung you off-beat and out of sync to a song in his head, certainly not the one being played, but it made you laugh until your stomach hurt, so it was worth it. You danced with the girls too, and exchanged gossip in hushed whispers as you moved across the checkered floor.

It always ended with you stumbling back to Enzo, progressively building more of a buzz as the night went on, falling back into the security of his arms. And he was always there, smiling, tucking hair behind your ear and kissing your forehead as he asked you whether you were having fun. For the first time in a long time at one of these events, you could say yes.

Only as the hour was finally approaching midnight, less than fifteen minutes to go, did you all leave. Mattheo ordered several bottles of champagne, gathering two in his hands and passing two more to Theo. Then, he was commanding you all to follow him, and marching away without another word.

You shared a look with Enzo, before hopping down, following after him with an equally puzzled group. Your hand found Enzo’s quickly, a comfortable act that had become familiar far too quickly, but just for tonight, you didn’t care. Not as Mattheo led you down all and corridors, away from all the noise.

Not as he led you all up, until you were exiting onto the roof. Below you, chatter filled the courtyard as the party guests began to file out onto the patio, ready to witness the fireworks. The view would be uninterrupted from here, a perfect view of it all, and a contented sound left your lips.

Staring up at the night sky, stars twinkled in the cold void, and you rubbed one arm lightly as you stared into the vast openness. Only a second later, a jacket was slipping over your shoulders, and Enzo was turning you to him, guiding your arms through each of the sleeves, bashfully.

“Told you I was a good date.” He winked, hand on your back as you followed the rest of your friends to sit down.

“You said you were a fun date,”

“Well then, I’m a good and fun date.” He effectively ended the conversation with a kiss to your cheek, hand sliding dangerously low on your back as you gathered with the others. A couple of benches and boxes were up here, stacks of pallets for makeshift seating, and you settled onto one, Enzo following you down.

Once you were sat, he pulled you in, tucking you into the heat of his side, and you curled in closer, twisting to face him. “Tonight has been… wonderful. Thank you.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you.” He whispered, nose brushing your hairline as the words were whispered onto your skin. “Tonight has been one of the best nights I’ve ever had, and I never thought I’d say that about one of these parties.”

You fiddled with the edge of the sleeves hanging over your palms, grinning at him. Your head fell to his shoulder, and your gaze moved to scan over your friends. Draco and Astoria were cuddling equally as sweetly, as were Blaise and Daphne. Luna and Pansy were nowhere to be seen, but Tom and Reggie stood at the edge of the roof, talking quietly. Mattheo and Theo were bent over laughing, trying to pop the corks on the bottles, and almost taking out each other’s eyes each time.

When a bottle was passed to you and Enzo, fizzing over the top and foaming on the wooden palette you perched on, you took a sip. The bitter liquid fizzed on your tongue just as the countdown began to sound from all of the people below.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Mattheo screamed, arms held up in the air with his excitement.

“Seven, six, five…” You murmured, sitting up straighter as the anticipation of the new year came in.

“Four, three, two…” Enzo joined you, your face turning to smile at him as you heard his voice mix with yours.

“One.” You spoke, just as Enzo leaned in. His lips closed over your own, warm and spicy from the lingering remnants of firewhiskey, and you groaned against his mouth. As you did, his hand slipped up to your cheek, angling your head just right as his tongue slid into your mouth.

He kissed slow, and deep, like he had all the time in the world to be here. You were gripping his shoulder, kissing back with just as much passion, sliding closer to him until there was no space between your body and his. Your thigh pressed to his own, his hand on your cheek slipping into your hair as he pulled back for a breath, just to dive right back in.

And you loved it, leaning forward, chasing his lips, kissing him until you couldn’t think straight, couldn't think at all, unless it was about him.

Finally, he pulled back, to the cheering and celebrating of your friends as the New Year rolled in. Fireworks began to explode behind you, and you sighed, breath clouding in the night air and floating up to the sky. Licking the taste of him from your lip as you panted, his nose bumped your own.

“What was that for?” You mumbled, the way he kissed you still playing over and over again in your mind like a loop.

“Because when we go back,” He stole another kiss, your lips stretching in a smile as his palm engulfed your cheek. “I’d love to take you on a real date.”

You’d never looked at him like this before, never let yourself consider what it would be like to date Enzo. That urge had never arisen, everything between you both had always been platonic, he was one of your best friends. Now, as those pretty eyes opened up to stare at you, he was anything but platonic.

He was pretty, in a way you’d acknowledged but never appreciated before. Loyal in a best friend way, but would doubtless be a wonderful boyfriend. He was doting, and kind, and sweet. He was cheeky and funny and caring. He was here, and interested, and if tonight had proven anything, it was your compatibility.

You and Enzo worked well together, you made a great couple, and for the first time ever, he was staring at you in a way that made you think he wanted to take your clothes off. And you liked it.

The choice seemed clear.

“I’d like that too, Enzo.”

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire/reader #lorenzo berkshire/you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire/reader #enzo berkshire/you #harry potter #HP #slytherin boys #louis partridge

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sorryimananti-romantic · 6 months

Text

Limitless

servant?san x queen!reader (more like king's right hand!san)

royal au, forbidden love

word count: 28k

genres and warnings: a lil fluff, a lil angst, smut (mdni!), reader is in a contract marriage but no actual cheating happens, abusive husband, violence and blood, lmk if i missed smth

synopsis: you're the princess of utopia, queen of eden by marriage to the king. for a whole year of marriage, you've taken his abuse but you're planning his downfall and you find an unexpected ally in the king's right hand choi san. he not only helps you plan but also shows you how it is like to be truly loved and wanted.

manager-nim: @eightmakesonebraincell (she wrote royal au san and then she triggered me to write this)

You had long since stopped listening to the court members defend their opinions on revising the trade system- if you were ever once interested in how the kingdom ran, you’d only found yourself losing interest with each passing day- even though the kingdoms in question might be two of your own- one by birth and one by marriage.

Marriage, you scoffed internally. What a joke.

As one of the maids poured red wine into your glass- the only thing that seemed to keep you sane these days- you thanked her and struggled to contain the sigh when the king clinked against his glass to get everyone’s attention, silence spreading throughout the hall in an instance. The court members across the table looked eagerly at their young king who met eyes with everyone with a smile before he cleared his throat.

“I hear your concerns, and I hear your opinions. If I may… Lord Kang? What do you suggest we do to balance our imports and exports? We do not want the public to wonder if we’re relying too much on Utopia.”

You cast a glance towards the man seated across the table from you, his eyes fixated on Lord Kang who got up and began, “We’ve always had good relations with Utopia, especially after the union of our kingdoms not too long ago, Your Highness. I think if there is no conflict in the dealings, as long as the people get what they want, it won’t matter even if we rely too much on Utopia-”

“Are you suggesting that we actually rely too much on Utopia? Because I did not imply that that is the case. I simply do not want the people to stir… rumours.”

You watched the men around Lord Kang hush him. You stifled the urge to roll your eyes- it had always been like this-

“What does Her Majesty think?” Lord Jung’s voice brought you back to your senses and you straightened a bit, your eyes involuntarily travelling to meet the King’s whose expressions were unreadable yet again.

“I’ll have to agree with Lord Kang,” you finally said and a murmur sounded across the room. “Trade has run constantly for a decade now. I do not think there is a reason to worry about the public yet. As far as balancing our imports and exports are concerned… I am not against the idea if the production of trade materials is stable. But overall… I don’t think it will create much of a difference. What does Lord Park have to say about this?”

You managed to steer the discussion to Lord Park who further added to your point and you smiled to yourself as the people in the room nodded along and Lord Choi, the King’s Right Hand, concluded the agenda. You made the mistake of meeting your husband’s eyes once more and this time, you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

Your husband. The youngest king in Eden’s history, adored by the public, known for his brains. His brains had once attracted you-

And then you married him and found out just what sort of a person he truly was. A routine occurrence now, something you were sure you would be experiencing tonight too.

And sure enough, after a hearty dinner (though your appetite decreased with each passing second) and chats with the people of the court, when you retired for the night, you went to your room accompanied by guards- guards who would station themselves a good distance away whenever the King would return to his chambers. You never met eyes with the guards- you didn’t want to see any sort of pity in their eyes for you. Your personal maid was enough for that, though she never offered a word of kindness- you wondered if that would be considered treason or if the maid was just being cautious.

After taking a bath, you changed into a black silk nightgown that covered almost all of your skin. Maybe that would provoke the King less. You were just wondering if you should change into something that would make visible the marks your husband would leave on you tonight when you heard the sound of the doors opening- a sound that made your hair raise even after almost a year of your marriage. You heard the maids greet the King before scurrying off, and the door shut with a click. You remained sitting at the vanity brushing your hair while he leaned against the doorframe, inspecting you.

“Quite talkative today, are we?”

You didn’t respond. You still didn’t know whether responding made it better or worse.

“I just need to ask you one thing, y/n,” he scoffed, running a hand through his light brown hair and approaching you slowly, coming to stand behind you so you could see him in the mirror. Your hands lay limp in your lap and you didn’t dare to meet his eyes in case he would think you were challenging him-

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

You did, and you knew instantly that there was no avoiding what was coming next. He placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing them painfully.

“How dare you challenge me during court?”

“I did not challenge you-”

“Do you think just because you’re the Princess of Utopia and Queen of Eden, you’re more powerful than me? Why don’t you run the kingdom then? I could sit back and relax-”

“You’re hurting me,” you managed to whisper, not being able to tolerate the pain of his fingers digging into your shoulders as if he wanted to rip you to shreds.

And perhaps he did. It had become a norm now, and you would always go someplace else. The pain didn’t register when he pushed you to the ground. You didn’t hear his screams though you could tell he was angry by the way he looked at you, eyes bloodshot. You weren’t in control of yourself when you would instinctively raise your arms to protect yourself from the object being thrown at you, from him-

Though you were no match for him. He would effortlessly pin you and scream in your face and do whatever he liked with you.

And with each passing day, you wished it would somehow be over. Your will to fight back was dimming now. So you let the King, loved by all of Eden and Utopia, your husband, have his way until he grabbed your face, yelled a warning that you didn’t process, and finally stormed out of the room with a shive. The flashes of black and red in front of your eyes finally began to clear, instead seeping in your skin and registering as pain.

Pain. Burning, endless pain.

You took a deep sigh, not making the effort to move. The cold floor against your cheek was comforting enough. You lay there sprawled on the floor, your hair all around you and matted to your skin, your eyes fixated on the broken ornament that had been a wedding gift from your mother. You wished to gather the pieces and glue them back together as if that could reverse the events of tonight, but you knew that it would never be whole again.

You would never be whole again-

The sound of the door creaking open yet again was what finally made you snap up with panic welling in your chest and you crawled to the shards, trying to hide your wounds and gathering the shards in your hands at the same time- you could protect that, you could still save it-

“Your Majesty.”

You froze in your spot- that was not the King. That voice was the next familiar thing. Your shoulders relaxed just a bit though the tension in your muscles was finally starting to hurt. You remained silent and continued to gather the big pieces of what was once a glass crane while you heard the man inch towards you and finally settle down on one knee beside you.

If you were expecting another reprimand, you didn’t get that. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh before gently picking the shards from your hand and spreading a handkerchief on the ground, collecting them in it. You handed him the rest and finally looked at him, your hair obstructing your vision.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He pursed his lips, folding the pieces gently in the cloth and getting up to place it back on your vanity. He looked down at you and shook his head in disappointment-

“I’ve had enough of that sorry excuse of a man.”

You raised a brow- that was quite a contrast from the first and only time he had seen you in this state. You pushed your hair back, noticing the fire in his eyes-

Lord Choi San, the King’s Right Hand. His loyal servant. He really shouldn’t be here.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though he wasn’t having any of it. “Please do not do anything stupid on my behalf and leave. I am okay-”

“No, you’re not,” his voice was low and he shook his head. He took one step towards you and then he stormed out of the room, silently clicking the door behind him. You looked around at the mess your husband had created and wondered where you should start fixing it- from yourself? You were far too tired for that, so you got up with pain shooting in your left limbs from your fall. You started picking the objects around the room, your thoughts drifting to Lord Choi.

The first time he had witnessed you in that state, you had heard urgent knocks on the main door. The King had just stormed off to his private chambers after venting out his frustrations on you. Thinking it was your maid who, at that time, used to come after his sessions to clean up after him, you opened the door only to find someone else entirely.

Lord Choi’s eyes first met your tear-stained ones and then travelled to the bruise on your cheekbone and you saw recognition click in his face as horror washed over him.

“Where is… the King?” He managed to ask, his eyes scanning your figure and you folded your arms in an attempt to hide the bruises forming there.

“Probably where he has been since the day we got married. You, of all people, should know you will rarely ever find the King in our shared chamber at night time… Lord Choi San.”

He frowned and turned to leave but then he turned towards you again, making you pause in the middle of shutting the doors.

“Why do you let him do this to you?”

He sounded so angry at that moment. He had never been angry at you- in fact, as the King’s Right Hand you interacted with him once in a while and always found him warm and friendly, but he sounded so angry now.You wondered who his anger was directed at for a brief moment but you were far too tired to care, so you responded with a glare before you shut the door in his face.

“I may be higher in status than your King but as his wife, I am powerless.”

That had been about a month ago. You wondered why Lord Choi had come inside your chamber this time without warning, without knocking. Did he hear everything? Did he witness the King leaving and decided to check on you, because you were pretty sure he wouldn’t have dared to enter without permission if the King had been inside-

The door opened yet again and you watched in surprise as Lord Choi extended a hand for you, a first-aid kit in his other hand.

“You really shouldn’t be here-”

He groaned and bent down to grab your wrist and gently lifted you up, steering you to the chair you had been sitting on before all this happened. He placed the kit on the vanity and went to grab himself a chair from the other end of the room, seating himself in front of you. Silently, he opened the kit and took out tweezers, extending his hand and looking at you. You rolled your eyes and placed your right hand in his palm so he could extract the shard he had noticed earlier.

“Did you have to pick up the glass?” He tsk-ed as you winced when he pulled out the shard.

“It was a gift from my mother,” you explained.

“I figured, but did you have to hurt yourself more?”

You pursed your lips. “If the King comes back, you and I are both dead. You know that, right?”

“If I cared, I wouldn’t be here in the first place,” he muttered. He gently applied ointment on your finger where the shard had been, and then he looked at you for permission before rolling your sleeve up a bit where he had spotted another bruise earlier, applying the ointment there as well. He asked you to tell him where else it hurt and you rolled your other arm so he could inspect your elbow as well. Finally, his gaze fell on your neck and he waited for your permission. You looked in the mirror-

There was a scratch alright, but you looked… horrible. You tucked your hair back- at least your face was okay this time, though your eyes looked so hollow. You turned back to him and he muttered a ‘sorry’ before scooting closer and drawing your hair away from your neck, leaning in and applying the ointment on your neck- so carefully, as if he could hurt you. His hand on your shoulder, that he probably didn’t realise was there yet, was absently squeezing it reassuringly- quite a contrast to how your husband had done that.

The air felt thick as he leaned back a little to inspect your neck. He met your eyes and you scoffed out loud.

“If you look at me like that and hold me so gently, I might end up catching feelings for you, Lord Choi San. I’m a married woman.”

To your surprise, his permanent subtle frown melted and he failed to stifle his smile, leaning back as he looked down in an attempt to hide his face, his dark hair falling on his forehead. He looked up at you to find you attempting to stifle your own smile but also failing, and you both shared a short laugh despite the situation.

Lord Choi shook his head, exhaling. “I’m sorry. I was here earlier and I heard the noise. I should have intervened earlier- or done something about this. I’m really sorry. I should have done something before it got this bad.”

“And what could you have done?” You cocked your head. “You can’t tame a monster. You’re only human.”

He didn’t look pleased to hear that and with a disappointed look, he started to pack the kit, your eyes fixated on him all along. He got up and passed a subtle bow, turning to leave-

And perhaps, with the last shreds of strength left in you, you grabbed the edge of his sleeve, stopping him. He froze for a moment before he turned, and for the first time, he spotted vulnerability in your eyes, realising he hadn’t seen you like this ever before- not that time he first saw you in this state, not even earlier tonight when you scrambled to hide your wounds. He wondered how you could be so powerless when you wore a crown on your head.

You tightened the grip on his sleeve, ignoring the tugging feeling in your heart from the way he looked at you. “You don’t have to do anything to the King. I… I will kill him myself.”

Something in Lord Choi’s heart both broke and healed- healed due to your resolve. He put his hand over yours, squeezing it. “You don’t have to get your hands dirty… Your Majesty. I will do that for you.”

A silent understanding passed between the two of you. You understood that now was not the time to discuss this so you let him go, but for the first time-

For the first time after coming here, you felt like you could accomplish anything.

—--------------------------

For the next couple of days, you remained in your chambers, not even bothering to get sun. The King would occasionally drop by and pretend you didn’t exist or have one of his servants come by to get your signature on whatever document he needed it on. You were always careful to hide your wounds- you simply did not want anyone to make stories about why you were in that state, so you would always welcome the servants- which in the long run benefited you since they were always reliable sources on what was actually going on in the castle.

You learned that the King was not too pleased with the court session of that day, with everyone concluding that the trade dealings between Eden and Utopia should carry on as before. You had suspected right after marriage that the King had plans to disrupt the trade business and though so far most of his efforts had been in vain- after all, he had to respect the opinions of the members of his court too- he was already involved in some underground dealings. That was a rumour you heard and you just needed someone to confirm it.

So you spent your days recovering wondering if that really was the case, how could you get back at the King while maintaining your status as his wife and not losing power as the Queen? Would you have to involve the court somehow and bring attention to the matter? You knew the King had only married you to strengthen the relations between the two kingdoms and though you believed that earlier, you were beginning to wonder if the King had some other ulterior motive.

Sometimes you found yourself wondering where it had all gone wrong. Yes, marriage amongst royals was usually done with intent- the partners were always selected because of their power, influence or some other legitimate reason. You knew that, however…

Would it have been so bad if the King and you could have had a normal relationship? If you two had become friends, at least? If he had at least respected you as the Princess of Utopia? You sighed, running your fingers over the teacup you had been holding for about half an hour now. The tea had long gone cold.

And then there was the King’s Right Hand. Choi San. The only man who ever gave you butterflies.

And that was not just on the night a couple days ago, no. From the beginning, you had admired him for his relationship with the King- back when things were still peaceful and the King talked to you properly at the very least. He had usually acted as the mediator when you discussed business with the King. As his Right Hand, he usually accompanied him everywhere and his visits to your chambers in the early months of your marriage had been quite frequent. At that time, you had thought he was quite warm and considerate. But when the King started acting differently, his visits became less frequent and perhaps, at one point, you started looking at him as an accomplice.

And then he saw you that one night and you realised he never knew what was really going on between the King and you. Between that night and the recent one, he seemed to have avoided you on purpose, but if he had…

Why did he help you?

You were still zoning out when a knock sounded on your door and one of the maids stationed in the corner went to open the door.

“Lord Choi is here, Your Majesty.”

And there it was. The butterflies were back. You wondered if it was from nervousness.

“Let him in,” you said, and the maid bowed, letting the King’s Right Hand in and moving to the next room. Lord Choi, dressed in his deep blue uniform, made sure no one was in earshot before bowing to you and seating himself in front of you.

“Tea?” You offered. “Though it might have gone cold now.”

His eyes travelled to your cup, still half full. “Thank you, but I’ll decline. I need your signatures on… these documents.”

You leaned forward as he handed you the documents, briefing you about their contents. With a sigh, you flipped through them, signing them until you reached the last page and found a note wedged in. You frowned, opening the note and reading:

The King won’t be coming here tonight- he is having drinks with his pals. Permission to come here tonight?

You looked at him. He didn’t give away any hint of emotion on his face- trained as a servant to not react to such situations. You gave him a subtle nod and handed the documents back. He bowed and left, leaving you with your bland tea.

Night time couldn’t have approached any slower. You told your maids you had a headache and wished to rest so they dressed you up in your nightwear and tucked you in bed. As soon as they left, you were up and pacing in your room, waiting and waiting-

And then giving up and lying on the bed, almost dozing off-

Until you heard very low, subtle knocks you could have dismissed as background noise. You were up and going for the door within a second and you opened it to the man you had waited for all day, who glanced around before entering.

“Any maids inside?”

“None,” you assured him and he nodded, relaxing a bit.

“There’s a passage to escape in your room, right?” He asked and you nodded. “Then that’s where we’ll have our meetings so I can, uh, leave if we’re compromised.”

“Lord Choi… You don’t have to sound so serious, you know,” you said- you simply couldn’t help it. He side-eyed you before motioning for you to lead him to your room.

“Just call me San.”

You resisted the urge to pause and look at him, simply nodding and the two of you sat on the sofa in your room. An awkward, almost uncomfortable silence fell as the reality of the situation started to sink in.

The King’s Right Hand in the Queen’s room in the middle of the night. His presence alone could warrant for an execution, let alone the treason you were both about to plan. San shifted awkwardly towards you, scanning your figure once.

“Are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” you took a deep breath. “Yeah… I’m okay. The maids take care of me.”

San looked down, his fists clenching and unclenching as he wondered what to say, where to begin. You could understand his frustration. You decided to ask him something then.

“How long have you been the King’s Right Hand?”

“Long enough,” he replied. “Before that, I would accompany his father’s Right Hand. I’ve grown up here, actually, but my parents left the castle after what happened to the King and the Queen.”

He was referring to the incident that took the life of your husband’s parents- the ship sinking during their travels a few years ago. That was the first time you had visited Eden, for the funeral as a representative of Utopia since your father couldn’t make it. You recalled being impressed by how the son who just lost his parents had stood tall and assured his people that Eden would continue to thrive as it had during his parents’ reign. You also remembered your first interaction with the then Prince, soon to be crowned King, where you offered your condolences and touched on various subjects. After a proposal came only a year later, you wondered if you had made a good impression on him after all.

Oh, how you wished you could go back to that time so you never stepped foot here.

“Has he… has he always been like this?”

San looked at you- he didn’t find any hint of pain in your eyes, rather… you almost looked as if you were pitying the King for being broken were it not for the fire in your eyes. Because broken was the only word San could call the King now. No man was supposed to treat a woman this way.

“I… I don’t know,” San admitted. “He’s never been one to waste time seeking pleasure before marriage, and I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t realise what was happening sooner.”

“It’s not like you could have done anything,” you sat back, turning to your right to pour yourself a glass of wine. You offered one to San but he refused. “What is your plan now? If your King learns what you’re doing behind his back… you realise what could happen, right?”

“I do,” he matched your gaze and you were satisfied to see that there was not a hint of doubt in his eyes. “I won’t ask you to trust me- that would be asking for a lot, but… I can help you if you tell me what you wish to do. I have already tried talking to the King about a month ago, but…” San tsk-ed in disappointment. “I don’t think I can talk him through this. And he’s never been one to keep his servants close. As a servant, I can’t dare to talk back to him.”

“Yet here you are,” you smiled, swirling the red liquid in your glass. “If it were up to you… how would you plan the downfall of the King?”

San flinched at the words- even though you had barely spoken them loud, he wished you had whispered them. But perhaps you deserved to scream those words in the open. “Well… I’ve thought about it. Realistically, if you demand a divorce, I don’t think the King will give you what you want. It might worsen the situation.”

“That’s right…” you nodded. “Carry on.”

San took a deep breath, thinking. “You cannot just go and tell someone about how you are being mistreated. The people serve the King and he holds the power. It would cost him nothing to silence someone who dares to speak out.”

“Correct. And that leaves…”

“A few options. I would not suggest actually killing the King,” San winced at the thought. “Even though it’s tempting. But there are fates worse than death… don’t you agree?”

You nodded. It looked like you and him were both thinking the same thing.

“I think the only way you could gain something from this- because with all due respect, you shouldn’t just leave empty-handed,” San scoffed and a faint smirk crawled on your lips, “The King needs to be publicly ridiculed.”

You whistled. “What would the King say if he heard you talk like that?”

San passed you a desperate look and you chuckled to yourself. “You don’t have to be so tense. At least not with me, not here, where you’re just San and I’m just… y/n. But carry on.”

San wasn’t having any of it. “A trap of sorts. The King isn’t the saint the public makes him to be, so our only bet is to make his secret dealings public- ones which don’t benefit our kingdom. And as the Right Hand… I have intel. I just need to check a few things and then I can provide you all the information you need. It is up to you to decide what to do with it, and… you can use me in whatever way you want. I am at your disposal… Your Majesty.”

You nodded slowly, letting it sink in. “We shall plan together then?”

“Together,” he agreed, “If that is what you want.”

“I have a few… conditions.”

“Of course,” his brows furrowed as he focused on you. “Please.”

“First of all… you should start using the secret passages more- if a guard spots you entering here, it won’t be good.”

“Okay, that shouldn’t be a problem,” San agreed.

“Right,” you nodded. “I’m blindly betting my life on you so try not to betray me, will you? Or at least let me know if you need to switch sides-”

“That- that won’t happen,” San let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he looked down. “My mother didn’t raise me like that.”

You smiled at his words. “She sounds wonderful. And San?” He looked at you and you continued, turning fully towards him. “You have to promise me something. Promise me that if you ever hear something or walk in to the King doing something to me… you will not interrupt-”

“No-”

“Let me finish,” you raised your hand and he sighed, giving in. “I already have a plan in my head, and honestly, it’s a miracle that you’re here right now. But in my big plan… I have to let the King do whatever he does to me. I cannot have you destroying everything I’ve worked for. You have to understand that if you interrupt and expose yourself… we’re both done for. We lose. I cannot lose now, do you understand?”

San looked like he was struggling to answer and you scooted closer, putting a hand on his clenched fist, making him relax a bit. “You’re already helping me out enough by simply being here. Your presence… it’s enough. I feel like I can conquer now that I know I’m not alone,” you let out a short laugh and San smiled at that. “But please. It’s a sacrifice I have to make to win.”

San put a hand over yours, stealing a glance before shaking his head. “I cannot promise, but… I will try.”

You nodded absently, focused on his firm grip on your hand, his rough fingers caressing yours almost lovingly. You shook your head to draw yourself out of the trance. You knew you were starved for affection but you hadn’t realised how much impact such a gesture would have on you. You squeezed his hand before drawing it away.

“That’s it, then…” you said. “I just have to go over a few things. You can come into my room during nighttime- it’s not like I really sleep. I’ll unlock the secret door,” you pointed to the door behind the tapestry. “You just have to make sure the King won’t be coming back for the night before you do.”

“Alright,” San got up and looked around. “There’s another door in your office, right? I might use that instead. It connects with my room too.”

“That’s better, just don’t walk into the King gloating in my office and you’re fine- it’s where he goes to ‘vent’,” you said and he scoffed.

“I’ll take my leave then. Good night, Your Majesty.”

Before he could exit the room, you said, “San? I have another condition.”

San turned, raising a brow. “And what’s that?”

“It’s y/n for you.”

San chuckled at that despite the anger that had been roiling in him since he saw you in that state. “Whatever you say… Your Majesty.”

With that, he left, leaving you smiling into the distance for a long time.

—-------------------------

The next few days, you remained as invisible as you could. You had a few meetings and a party scheduled that you had to attend along with the King, but you were careful not to challenge him in court. You did not want the King to wonder why there was suddenly life in your eyes, so you made sure to keep your eyes unreadable.

Because there was, suddenly, life in your eyes. Hope. You were beginning to feel hopeful and you knew how dangerous that was, but you couldn’t help it. Not when you finally had someone who was going to lay his life on the line for you. Now you couldn’t help but smile when something reminded you of him- whenever you planned in your head, or when you dared to note a few things down on paper only to burn it in the end because you could leave no trace…

You would find yourself smiling as you watched the pages burn in the fireplace.

It wasn’t too hard for you to gather information about the King’s weak point. The thing about people was that they loved a good gossip session. And since the King had made the mistake of not limiting your social attendance, whenever you met up with the wives of earls or dukes, drinks would be passed and their lips would loosen. They didn’t even comprehend how dangerously the information could be used. Over the few months of your marriage, you had enough gossip in your brain that you could iron out the details for. You had a few open spots you could attack the King for-

But you would wait for San. You needed to hear him first, because no matter how much information you had gathered, nothing could come close to what San would have as the person who knew every move his King made.

You wondered if San would agree with you on one of these things, and you wondered which of them even held leverage, because if you went in blindly with one of these, it wouldn't end well for you and whoever sourced this information. You didn’t want to risk dragging anyone else.

“Your next move… Your Majesty?” Your maid asked, looking at you and then at the chessboard you had been staring at for far too long.

“Oh, forgive me, I got lost in thought,” you chuckled, moving one of the rooks across the board. “Isn’t it quite late? Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet,” the maid admitted and you narrowed your eyes in disappointment, making the young girl laugh.

“We can continue later,” you marked the moves on the notepad and handed it to the maid who began to wrap up the board. “You should have dinner on time. You’ve got other duties too. Me? I only have to sit and look pretty.”

The maid grinned at that and bowed before leaving and you smiled at her. She was the only one who had been kind enough to keep you occupied with distractions- often bringing board games or embroidering material for when the King was away and you were all alone with your thoughts. Perhaps, she had heard from the only maid who knew how abusive the King was. Perhaps, the King had ordered the young girl to keep you entertained. You didn’t know and you couldn’t ask.

The King was on a one day trip to the neighbouring city for some ‘business’ dealing. He often went there and you were starting to suspect if there was actually some business there or if he had someone just like you in his family house. You ate dinner and waited for bedtime but the King arrived back before that, entering your chamber.

“Good evening,” you called, his maids helping him take off his coat. You glanced behind- San wasn’t with him. “I hope you had a nice trip.”

“Yeah, nothing much,” the King shrugged off the extra layers and settled on the couch. You knew that it meant that he wasn’t in a sour mood (yet) so you relaxed a bit, ordering the maids to bring some fresh tea for him.

“Would you like to take a bath before you settle down?”

“I’ll have tea first, I’m pretty tired,” he rubbed his face and then looked at you, just having recalled. “Did you attend the dinner at the Earl’s place last night?”

“I did,” you said and he nodded in approval. “They seem to be doing quite well recently. His wife couldn’t stop flaunting her new diamond necklace.”

The King scoffed. “I told the Earl to keep it subtle, but what man can resist a celebration when he scores a good deal?”

“And what deal was that?” You crossed your legs casually, hoping to get something out of him.

“Remember the funds we were keeping aside for the army?” he asked and you nodded. “A few officials from Wonderland offered us more funds in an exchange for the blueprints of our latest weapons.”

You made an impressed face. “Sounds like a nice deal, but I wouldn’t trust Wonderland too much. They have a history of turning on you when times are tough.”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re Utopian,” the King laughed. “Utopia and Wonderland have always been at each other’s throats.”

That wasn’t the truth, but you decided to not argue. You were far too tired to have another session with him. “So that is how the wife got those diamonds, huh?” You laughed. “Well deserved, then.”

“Would you like some too?” The King looked at you, eyes expectant.

You absolutely hated when he looked at you like that. At first, you thought it was an offer to take a step to improve your relationship with him, and you would accept whatever he offered you. But no amount of diamonds or rubies could erase what he had done, you knew that. And you knew that it wasn’t an offer- it was a trap. The King was a sadistic man who just wanted to prove to you time and time again that he was in charge of making you happy.

And you could either agree and play along, or…

“I still haven’t worn the emeralds you got me last time,” you sighed wistfully as you looked towards your room where the dresser was. “I was hoping to exhibit them at some occasion first.”

“Well, an occasion is near,” he smirked. “Our anniversary.”

“That is two months away, by the way.”

“But it should be celebrated with a blast, don’t you think?” He relaxed back and you could see that he was already planning. “Maybe we could have an emerald theme for you.”

You resisted the urge to scratch his face but you only smiled. “That doesn’t sound bad, actually.”

But your heart sank when he narrowed his eyes at you. “You don’t seem too pleased, though. What more do you want?”

“Oh, no, I am pleased,” you assured. “But we don’t have to plan it right now. You must be tired.”

“I am, actually,” the King shrugged. “Might sleep here tonight.”

You contained the sigh that threatened to leave you. “Let me prepare the bed then.”

Without waiting further, you got up and walked to your room- it was your room. The King had only slept here a handful of times, and he would always leave before dawn. He had made it pretty clear it was your room. But whenever he was tired, and you supposed he needed company, he would sleep with you. Sometimes, even though you hated it, he would make you laugh. Sometimes he would kiss your forehead. One time, he even kissed your lips as he apologised for all his past actions, promising to be a better man, but he never kept his word. He may be called ‘a man of his word’ by the public but he never kept his word to you. And at this point, you were too scared to say no to him. It was a good thing that he hated you and never really touched you. That was the only reason you were still intact.

So you pretended to be pleased when the King settled down next to you. You pretended to enjoy his stupid stories of unimportant things, knowing he just wanted someone to talk to. You added in a few stories of your own, nothing that would give too much away, just so he wouldn’t think it was him making all the effort. And when he fell asleep, you forced yourself to sleep next to him, eyes fixed on the tapestry in your room.

And the next day, you woke up to find him gone. Good riddance.

And that night, you almost thought it was the King again when you heard the creak of a door and you came out of your office only to find-

“San,” you breathed, a hand on your heart from the utter relief that it was not your husband. “A little warning next time, maybe.”

“I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay,” you shook your hand in dismissal, scanning him. “I didn’t see you with the King last night. Did you not go with him on that trip?”

“He told me I could have the night off as soon as we entered the castle,” San stepped closer, his eyes scanning everywhere on your body. “Are you okay? He didn’t do anything to you last night, did he?”

You stifled a smile at his worry. “He didn’t. He slept here last night. He was too tired to do anything, and I was careful.”

“Good,” San nodded. “Because I have news. Where do we…?”

You guided him to your office, telling him he could easily hide here if you two ever got interrupted because your office looked more like a storage than an actual office, with books and boxes everywhere. It was your comfort space, though. You resumed arranging the documents from the previous meeting while he spoke.

“Do you know what goes on in the family house?”

“I bet it’s not anything I’d like to know?” You looked at him and he nodded. “Well then, don’t tell me.”

“The… people, there,” San was careful to word it correctly. “Often bring news. They are more like his spies. And I’ve heard that Wonderland and Eden’s deal might not work- something about foreign interference. The King doesn’t know yet.”

“Ah,” you put the papers down. “He seemed quite pleased that it had worked. Not just him- the Earl I went to the day before.”

“Right,” San walked around the room, inspecting the bookshelves. “I saw it coming, but… I thought I’d let you know. The King will be angry when he learns about this.”

You realised then that San was also warning you long with all the planning. You pursed your lips. “Thanks for letting me know. Did you think about a plan?”

You seated yourself in front of him in the spare chairs as he folded his arms in thought. “It might be a little selfish, maybe sadistic…”

“All the better,” you confirmed and he scoffed, making you shrug in amusement.

“I think if we have to bring the King down… we should target his strength, not his weaknesses. So you might have to change your approach.”

You raised a brow. “How so?”

“What is the King well known for? What is the King proud of?”

“A number of things, but… his dedication? His loyalty to the people?”

“Close,” San straightened before leaning forward and locking eyes with you. “Ever since he was just a prince, he was known to never go back on his word. He keeps his promises with his people. And just recently, he has promised the people that there won’t be another repetition of what happened two decades ago when Wonderland and Eden almost went to war. When countless people were killed while preparing for a war that never happened.”

“When Utopia intervened and stopped the war before it could happen,” you recalled and San nodded.

“The people of Eden have always been wary of Wonderland. The King promised that there will be peace. But how would the people feel if they learned that the King is joining hands with the Wonderland military to start annexing islands around their territories?”

You frowned. “I thought it was only Mist Island? And in that case, Mist Island was once Eden.”

San shook his head. “I wish it was only Mist Island. They’re targeting at least three islands other than Mist Island and they will attack all at once. The military of Eden and Wonderland will work together- and we all know how hungry for power Wonderland is. They won’t stop there- after Wonderland helps us take over every island in our territory, Wonderland will use the blueprints our King himself provided and take over our land- I suspect this, but the King refuses to see this right now because Wonderland has managed to bribe everyone in power, including him. They are not only providing military funds but their own military too. They’re going to attack from the inside when they begin their plan.”

You took a deep breath. “Are you sure about all of this? One hundred percent?”

“Yes,” San nodded. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here because I don’t know who else to turn to. Everyone else is too blind to see it. And I’m not only joining you because I want to help you- you’re literally the only person who could stop this, Your Majesty. I would have come to you even if the King and you were on good terms.”

You considered that, feeling overwhelmed by his revelation. “What prompted you to take this step, San?” You asked, genuinely curious. “Because if the King learns about this, he would consider it a betrayal. And I’m not talking about our ‘revenge’.”

San took a deep breath. “When my father was the Right Hand, he was more like an advisor to the King, may he rest in peace. My father has long since retired but he has only given me one piece of advice that stuck with me- he said that sometimes, the people in power cannot see the sufferings of the common man when they make such big decisions. It is our duty to make them see it. And believe me, I have tried,” San laughed in defeat. “I told the King that it was a bad idea to join hands with Wonderland, even before your marriage. I respected him as a man, as a ruler, and when he didn’t take my advice, I accepted it. I thought maybe I was the only one who couldn’t see the big plan. But now that you’ve admitted that yourself even just with Mist Island… I think you can see it. You can feel the pain of the civilians. And that is the most respectable quality a ruler could possess.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap, fidgeting nervously. Even in your reign as a princess back in Utopia, no one had ever said such kind words about you. No one had ever acknowledged you, and it was as if San could really see who you were.

“And I… I once respected the King as a man. Not anymore. Not after I told him that the way he treated you was no way for a king to treat his queen and he threatened to fire me. I told him to go ahead but he let me go with a warning to not involve myself in his personal matters. But what kind of a man treats his wife like that? I just can’t respect him anymore. I refuse to be a part of his schemes.”

“That’s… impressive, Choi San,” you finally said and he raised his brows at the way you looked at him. “I always liked you but I didn’t know you had such respectable values. Your parents have raised you very well.”

“Your husband… his parents raised him quite well too. I don’t understand what happened to him. If they were alive… none of this would be happening. None of this.”

You nodded. If they were alive… you would have liked them. Your chest felt tight all of a sudden.

“You know,” you laughed sarcastically as you got up, turning your back towards the King’s Right Hand. “Sometimes I wondered if I was doing something wrong. I wondered if I was too over my head or thought too highly of myself. I thought I deserved this. And if you hadn’t told me the things you told me tonight… I would have continued to blame myself even after we got our revenge. So thank you, San. Thank you for acknowledging me and believing me when no one did. Thank you for caring for the people and worrying about this kingdom when no one else is. I will make sure everyone knows that they owe it to you, because I will expose the King. I will not let Eden fall. I am the Queen, and I will not let my people down.”

San’s heart ached at the way your voice almost cracked at the end, and then it swelled in pride because you, despite being treated that way by the King, cared about the people. As if the people had done anything for you. San got up and slowly walked to you, knowing you were holding back from the way your shoulders tensed and relaxed repeatedly. He wished you had someone by your side to comfort you at this moment, but you had no one. You were so alone here.

So he decided to be that for you- at least for tonight, for this moment. He put his hands on your shoulders softly, almost cursing himself when you flinched but relaxing with you as you subtly nodded to let him know that it was okay.

“You…” San began, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re a very strong person. I’m sorry that Eden has only let you down even after all this time, and I’m thankful beyond words that despite all of that, you are choosing to stand up for us. I’m sorry that you have to go through whatever you are going through, but none of it, absolutely none of it is your fault, okay? A king is supposed to cherish his queen. A queen is supposed to be the only person the king bows to. The only person a king would take an arrow for. You may not be his queen, but you are my queen. You are my queen and the people’s queen. They look up to you. And they will protect you when the time comes. So don’t be too hard on yourself, Your Majesty. You owe us nothing, but we will never forget what you have and will do for us.”

You nodded and wiped your face. He squeezed your shoulders assuringly, letting his hands trace your arms before squeezing them too. “I am here for you, Your Majesty. I am here… y/n.”

You laughed a little at that, glad he couldn’t see you but you knew he was smiling too. “This is not a good time to call my name, San. I’m very vulnerable right now.”

San couldn’t help but feel curious. He knew he was treading on very dangerous lines, but…

“Y/n.”

You sighed deeply at that. His hands still on your upper arms caressing the bare skin did not help at all.

“Would it be too much if I asked for a hug?”

San instantly knew that you had never received a genuine hug since you arrived here from your voice alone. From the way your shoulders kept curling in. From the way your fists were so tight. Perhaps, not even the maids had helped you- he knew the King was sadistic enough to make sure of that. So San crossed the line, let his hands travel further down to unclench your fists and lined them. He heard your breath hitch when he raised your linked hands, when you realised what he was about to do. And then his heart sank in the most beautiful way when he wrapped your linked arms around your waist, when your back met his body and you melted into the hug, when he found your hearts beating in synchronisation.

And he let you stand like that for the longest time, rocked you lightly in the hug until you had your fill. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. He did not know and he did not wish to find out. When you finally squeezed his hands, he let you go and was surprised to find how reluctant he was.

You couldn’t face him, though. You were afraid you would break down or do something worse. So you only said, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime, Your Majesty.”

You frowned at his intentional switch to your title, and when you found him grinning, you thought it was the most beautiful thing you had seen in a while. He bowed and left, and you didn’t plan anything. You simply sat on your chair and thought about how he felt against you for the rest of the night.

—---------------------------

You and San were starting to fall into a little routine now.

It looked like the deal with Wonderland was really happening. The King hadn’t told you anything more about that plan, but he became busier and you were careful to avoid him as much as you could- that man could not cope with stress and would only take it out on you if you so much as breathed in the wrong way. You would only interact once at the end of the day when he would come into your chamber to visit his office- much of which he had moved to his private chamber now- and you would ask him how his day was and if he needed anything. You were glad he was busy and didn’t have time to look at you. You didn’t want to be looked at anyway.

San, however, was updating you almost daily. Every night after the King would settle in his own room, after about an hour or two, San would knock on the door that opened to your room and you would let him in. You would both then spend the rest of the time in your office where you would match your information, plan out the next strategy and…

Talk. Simply talk like two normal human beings who didn’t bear such heavy titles.

You loved hearing San talk. His voice was soothing- even when you had only interacted with him formally, you had noticed how soothing his voice was whenever he talked to you, whenever he switched his tone with you. Around the King or when on duty, he was a different man, but perhaps, this was who San really was. Perhaps, this was what San sounded like- like morning dew on a clear day. Whenever San told you something about himself, you always listened carefully. You noted how his eyes would curve ever so slightly whenever he talked about his hometown, of his parents and siblings, of his friends who were scattered across the kingdom.

Sometimes, between talking, he would suddenly become aware. He would pause and straighten and you would see the physical shift in his body as he reminded himself that he was the King’s Right Hand and shouldn’t be here in the middle of the night trading stories with you. But he couldn’t help it- he didn’t like how wary you would become whenever he started acting like his title. So he would urge himself to relax a bit, just so you could have some peace of mind.

You hadn’t told San much about yourself, but he had learned a lot of things about you in the past two weeks. He learned that the King was manipulating you- he would behave well with you whenever he needed favours from you as the Princess of Utopia but as soon as he got the job done, he would go back to being the same. He learned how big a role you played as a Princess back in your kingdom and how involved you really were. He also realised that the King probably wanted to lessen your involvement before he could carry out the plan.

But these were the things he already somewhat knew. What he hadn’t realised was how strong you were and how brave you were. What he didn’t know was how you were still just someone yearning to be loved and treated right. When you asked him one day if he considered you a friend, San had been silent for a long time.

“I’ve never really had a true friend,” you laughed as you said. “You know how it is with us. People are always after something. They’re always using you and you learn to use them in return and call it a ‘friendship’. They don’t think twice before stabbing you in the back. So I wonder… even if we are somewhat using each other… would you say that we are friends?”

And when he only stared at you for a long time, you sighed. “I get it. You’re the King’s Right Hand. You can’t be friends with the Queen. I get it, really-”

“No, it’s not that, I…” San laughed nervously. “I just… I’m flustered, I’ll admit it. Seems like I’m still getting used to the fact that you are the queen and I’m only a mere servant, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, please,” you tossed the ball of yarn you had been playing with at him and he caught it with a laugh. “I’m not gonna pretend that I don’t know you call me ‘Your Majesty’ on purpose now.”

“It’s what I’m used to,” he pouted.

“Also… you’re not just a ‘mere servant’, San,” you insisted. “If I cared about titles, I wouldn’t have given you the power to control my fate. Because my fate is in your hands now. You could do anything with all the information you have now-”

“I would never-”

“I know,” you smirked. “Just letting you know that I’d rather be your friend than your enemy, ever.”

San had laughed at that, the first time he had ever truly laughed in front of you, and you wondered if that was the moment when he finally started loosening up, when he admitted that it was an honour that you would offer your friendship to him and you scolded him again. When he started treating you more casually, calling you by your title only teasingly. When he started worrying about you and making sure you were eating properly and staying out of the King’s way when he was sensitive.

And when it felt like he was finally starting to treat you as an equal. Just a couple nights ago, you told him that over a chess game with him as you planned.

“Sometimes I wonder if this was all I needed,” you said. “Maybe I just needed someone who wouldn’t hold me in such high reverence or wouldn’t dismiss me as if I meant nothing. I hope you see me as an equal, San.”

“I do,” he admitted, but dropped your queen piece on the board and called checkmate, making you gape at him. “Which is why I’m not letting you win this game.”

You were just staring at the chessboard and recalling that fond memory when one of your maids knocked on the door.

“The King requests your presence in the Great Hall,” she said. “Something about planning your anniversary party.”

“Isn’t it too soon for that?” You wondered, looking in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable.

“I’ve heard some officials from Wonderland are visiting soon so the King is wondering if it would be too bad to kill two birds with one stone,” she said casually, shrugging. “Not a bad idea. We haven’t had a party in long.”

You shot her a dirty look but she only grinned before opening the door for you.

The Great Hall was surprisingly full. You recognised the court people and a group of people around the King who you presumed were the event planners. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes- it looked like the King was doing pretty okay all by himself. What did he need you for-

“Your Majesty,” one of the court people who noticed you first got up, drawing everyone’s attention to you and the King patted the chair next to him-

Between him and San.

Your heart sank and you greeted everyone before joining them at the end of the hall. San got up and bowed to you before drawing the seat for you and you thanked him.

“The guest of honour arrives!” The King announced and everyone raised their glasses. You smiled at them before turning towards your husband.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, we’re just planning a party for you,” he leaned forward to speak in your ear. “The Prince of Wonderland arrives next week. I thought we could use our anniversary party as an excuse to welcome him as well.”

“Good idea, actually,” you said and shifted away subtly- you did not want him breathing down your neck. “In that case, the emerald theme sounds nice too. Emerald is Wonderland’s colour.”

“Oh, I totally forgot about that, thanks for reminding me,” he grinned, the man next to him calling him to look over something and you exhaled, running your eyes across the table to take everyone in. They all seemed to be talking about Wonderland, though.

“Your Majesty,” San called and you turned to him, surprised. “I just need your confirmation on a few things.”

“Go ahead,” you said and he called one of the event planners and you spent about half an hour running over everything with them. The King would join in between to tweak it a little, and finally…

“Sounds like we have a plan,” the King announced, pleased. “Shall we have dinner now?”

You excused yourself and went to join the women at the other end of the table where dinner was served. You tried not to look at San who was seated in front of you next to the King. Everyone congratulated you and the King for sticking with each other for a whole year and you felt disgusted at the King’s attempt to flatter you. As if he had ever acted like a husband. However, you made sure to smile at the right time and nod along. You had a throbbing headache by the time it was over. You dismissed the maids after they prepared your bath and soaked in it for a long time before dressing for bed.

But you couldn’t sleep. You felt such anger in you. You had never felt this angry before- not even when the King first showed his true colours. How dare that man use the excuse of your anniversary to pretend that the party was in your honour, that he was ‘lucky to have you as a wife’ as he said in the Great Hall just earlier? How dare he use the excuse of your anniversary party to welcome the Prince of Wonderland who had time and time again turned his back on Utopia, on your people?

You stood by the window staring holes into the fireplace and you almost didn’t hear the subtle knocks next to you. You uncovered the door and found San already peeking inside.

“I got worried for a second- I had been knocking for a minute now,” San entered and you drew the curtains on the window. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just zoning out,” you said, wincing when a sharp pain shot through your head again. San frowned at that.

“Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

“Just a headache,” you assured him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“Do you have chamomile here? Let me make you some tea-”

“It’s okay-”

“Please, I insist,” he guided himself out and you almost smiled at how he naturally took charge. He went to the kitchen, found the drawer where you kept your tea and began to boil some water. You leaned next to the doorframe as he prepared the cups and he glanced at you, chuckling at the way you stood watching him.

“I quite like the sight of you in the kitchen. Maybe you could switch from Right Hand to personal maid.”

San snickered at that. “I bet you’d like that. Didn’t you have a headache just now? Go sit or something.”

You pouted at that and when he finished pouring the water into the cups, you decided to settle on the couch in your office.

“So?” San asked after taking a few sips. “What brings the headache tonight?”

“As if you don’t know,” you glared at him from the corner of your eye. “I didn’t realise the King was this enthusiastic about hosting Wonderland here.”

“I didn’t either, trust me,” San admitted, putting his cup on the table. “Something must have changed while I was away.”

San was referring to the two-day leave he got to visit home. You nodded in agreement. “Do let me know when you catch up with your King.”

You didn’t mean to sound so bitter and San looked surprised as well. You drank another sip before placing the cup on the table and getting up, going towards the window and opening it. You needed air. You needed to take a few, deep breaths-

“What’s wrong?” San almost whispered, not too far from where you stood.

“Nothing, I just need some air,” you muttered.

“Please, y/n? You promised not to hide anything from me.”

“I don’t know, I’m just so angry, San,” you sighed deeply. “I really don’t like playing along with this. That man will pretend to be affectionate at the party but I know the Prince will do something to tick him off and he’ll come to take it all out on me. I don’t want to prepare or plan for a party that I know will not end up well.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “It’s getting harder for me to keep playing along, and I’m afraid I will snap and do something irreversible, and all that we have worked for will be in vain.”

“That won’t happen,” he said and it sounded like a promise even when you knew it wasn’t. “You’re doing so well. You won’t give in. I know how the Prince loves to mock you, but… try not to mock him back this time, will you? Even though I love how you always show him his place…”

You laughed at that and San joined. He placed a hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him. He scanned your face with a smile. “You’re so strong, and you’re holding up so well. You don’t even have to think of that event as an anniversary if that is what bothers you. It won’t be long after that we can finally put our plan to action.”

“That doesn’t bother me,” you told him. “I just… I wish, I-”

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t admit it. Not now. But how could you hold back when he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had laid his eyes on? You sometimes hated the adoration in San’s eyes. How could you hold back when he held you like you were fragile? How could you not tell him that when you sat next to him today at the Great Hall… you wished he was the one who was yours? Not only by title, but truly, wholly yours?

You weren’t sure if San could read that in your eyes- he was pretty good at reading you. But when you tried to turn away from him, he grabbed your wrist gently, stopping you right there. He stepped closer to you.

“Look at me.”

You couldn’t.

“Look at me, y/n,” he said and you shook your head but he brought his hand to your face, glad that you didn’t flinch for once and tucked your hair behind your ear before cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him.

“It’s going to be over soon, I promise,” he said, caressing your hand that he was already holding. “And then you are free. I can’t imagine how tough it is for you to simply hang in there and wait, but-”

“But you make it better,” you whispered, your gaze falling to his locked lips. “You… I wish I… I wish that you-”

San let go of your hand to put a finger on your lips, surprising you and himself. “Don’t say it, y/n. Don’t say it.”

And then you knew. You knew that you weren’t wrong. You knew that perhaps, he felt a fraction of what you felt for him. And you could see how tense he was, how much he was holding back. He kept scanning your face, his gaze falling on your lips multiple times. He shook his head, attempting to draw himself out of the trance and he drew his finger away but you took that opportunity to bring your hand to his face-

Oh, how devastatingly beautiful he was. How much you loved his little gestures that you were sure no one but you noticed- the slightest frowns, the twitch of his lips, the clenching of his jaw. You caressed his face and he looked helpless.

“Why?” You finally asked.

He didn’t respond. His hand snaked behind your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek and then he leaned forward just the tiniest bit. You responded by doing the same and you both found yourselves leaning into each other- by this point, his breath caressed your lips-

And before you could take another step, you heard the main door unlocking and your eyes went wide with fear. San instantly stepped away from you and you looked at the escape door, praying that one made less noise before you calmed your breathing, picked the extra cup and placed it on the shelf, and appeared out of your office-

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“And you’re up late,” the King scanned you. “What were you doing?”

“I just woke up with a headache so I made some tea for myself and was going through some stuff in the office. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just needed to get something from my office-”

“At this hour?” You made the mistake of asking and he paused to glare at you.

“And? What about it?”

“Nothing,” you raised your hands in surrender. “I’ll give you space.”

You started towards your room but he grabbed your wrist and you couldn’t help but compare it to a certain someone- your husband’s grip was always a bit too strong. You turned to face him and your heart sank when he looked angry.

“Look, I’m not in the mood to fight tonight, but I have to warn you,” he began, his grip tightening again making you wince. “Do not mess with any plans. Do not challenge the Prince of Wonderland when he comes. It won’t end well for us if you do.”

“Okay, I won’t,” you said, trying to extract your hand back but he pulled you towards him, pointing a finger in your face for good measure before letting you go.

You knew then- you wouldn’t try anything but you wouldn’t let the Prince disrespect you or your kingdom, no matter the consequences.

—--------------------------

“The gloves, the gloves!” Your maid called and another maid brought a box from the bed, the group of them squealing at how pretty the emerald net gloves were and you shut your eyes, annoyed, but you couldn’t help laughing along with them.

“You lot can have them if you like them so much.”

“Oh no, we wouldn’t,” the youngest of the three said. “But… maybe after the party, Your Majesty?”

You pretended to think and then nodded and they jumped up and down. You gaped at them. “Who assigned you little birds to help me get ready tonight?”

“We’re in training and we’re the best in the class,” the one who seemed to be the oldest said. “The Head Maid expects good results and we shall deliver.”

“We’ve always wanted to get you ready, and what better day than your anniversary party?”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the mirror. Your anniversary party. What mockery. You checked your curls one last time- the girls had done a pretty good job, actually. Your hair fell in elegant curls by the sides, half pinned up. They kept the makeup quite natural and you liked that. The dress- a ‘gift’ from the King, but really, you knew that he had probably asked one of his designers to do something about it. The dress was beautiful. It was sleek and fell to your feet with a slit in the leg. Everything about you tonight screamed elegant.

You wished you felt as good as you looked.

You wore the gloves, completing the look and admired yourself in the mirror. The sleeves also hung along with the dress though there was a slit for your hands so they wouldn’t get in the way. You had matching heels as well.

“So pretty,” one of them wiped a tear. “Shall we go now?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. You reminded yourself to stay low but keep your back straight. You had nothing to be afraid of.

You started hearing the music as soon as you left your chamber. There were decorations everywhere in black and emerald colours. You subconsciously touched the emerald earrings you were wearing- even though you wanted to throw these beauties away, you had to wear them and flaunt them at the event tonight. You had to let everyone know that your ‘loving’ husband got them as a gift for you.

Tonight was truly going to be all about your patience, and you could not snap.

You entered the ballroom as the maids announced your arrival and joined the King who was waiting for you next to the Prince of Wonderland in a corner. You bowed to the Prince who bowed back.

“I must congratulate you on your anniversary, first,” he began. “Time flies. My wife has sent some gifts for you.”

“Please send her my regards,” you smiled. “I hope she can make it here next time.”

The Prince laughed at that and the King pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’m going to announce your arrival now.”

You nodded and the King signalled the musicians to stop. As hundreds of eyes trained on you, you stood tall, the King’s hand resting on your back a reminder. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you all for making it tonight. Please join me in warmly welcoming the arrival of the star of tonight’s event- esteemed ruler and wife, the Queen!”

Everyone applauded and you bowed once to them with a smile. Next, the King nodded and said, “I must also welcome the guest of honour- the Prince of Wonderland. I hope you make him feel at home during his stay.”

The Prince bowed and applause filled the room again. The King cued the musicians and everyone went back to what they were doing.

“You can go socialise and join us for dinner, okay?” The King said and you nodded, spotting San in the crowd who was making his way to you-

Looking absolutely breathtaking in a black suit with his hair slicked back, tendrils falling onto his forehead.

“Your Majesty,” he bowed and you acknowledged him, both of you scanning each other for a good moment. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

“I was just leaving,” you told him, glancing towards the King who seemed to be listening in to your conversation. San nodded and passed you to go to the King and whisper something in his ear. You stood inhaling the woody scent of whatever cologne he was wearing before urging yourself to move.

Dinner time approached rather quickly- there were too many people stopping by to chat with you- officials and royals from around the continent- and you didn’t have one moment to breathe. You were relieved when they announced that everyone should move to the Great Hall for dinner. You joined the King who seemed to be too involved in his discussion with the Prince to offer you an arm an accompany you-

“Shall I escort you?” San offered and you stifled a smile, noticing the hint of mischievousness in his eyes.

“Why not?” You put a hand on his outstretched arm. The King spared a glance and nodded and you finally relaxed- it wasn’t unusual for San to accompany you at such times. However…

This time it was different.

Everything had been different from a few nights ago when you both almost… you didn’t dare to think of it. After the King interrupted that moment, you were both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because you were the King’s wife, the Queen and you shouldn’t have tried anything like that.

And disappointed because you wished you had gotten a taste of his lips.

“Tired?” San asked in a low voice, making you blink.

“A little,” you admitted. “Everything okay at your side?”

“Yep,” he replied and you nodded, walking in silence the rest of the way until you reached the hall. You sat on one side of the King, the Prince on the other side in front of you. Dinner was served and you chatted with the female envoy from Wonderland at your left.

“I must say, you look quite breathtaking, Your Majesty,” the Prince called, winking at the King. “Looks like your husband is taking care of you.”

You stilled for the slightest moment. You weren’t sure if the Prince’s comment was intentional. You looked at the King and made yourself relax. “Definitely.”

“And you look lovely in Wonderland’s colour,” he commented further, stuffing his mouth with food as he scanned you.

“Ah, the emerald was my idea. These,” you pointed at your earrings, “were a gift from my husband. I decided the occasion called for it.”

“She loves her emeralds,” the King chuckled. “Don’t seem too flattered, though, Prince. All this emerald decor is to match with my wife, not to welcome you.”

“I wouldn’t dare assume,” the Prince laughed and you grimaced at how chummy the two were. “Though, now that we’re talking about it, with how good our dealings have been going recently, you could have easily fooled me into believing that tonight was all about me.”

“Ah,” the King shifted in his seat. “The emeralds are older than the deal though.”

The three of you chuckled at that- you knew they weren’t. You recalled what the King had said about sucking it up to the Prince and you decided now was the right moment. “Maybe the emeralds were intentional- my husband has been very eager with the deal.”

The King nodded in approval and the Prince said, “Well, I’m quite fond of how things have turned out too. But I did have a thought that you might entertain, Your Majesty, if I may?”

You frowned in confusion, glancing at your husband who looked as confused. “Sure, by all means.”

“Would it be too bad if Utopia sided with us on this one?” The Prince wiped his face. “It wouldn’t be too bad to have a third nation with us- of course, Wonderland will offer something in return.”

“I… I’ll put a word for you but I’m not the Queen of Utopia, I’m only the Princess,” you told him, faking a smile. “It might be a bit tough given how things turned out the last time.”

“Technical difficulties, I believe,” the Prince coughed- he was all too familiar with how Wonderland had turned its back on Utopia. “Things have changed now, haven’t they?”

“I couldn’t be the judge of that,” you sipped your wine and when the King sent a warning glare in your direction, you cleared your throat. “But I will send word.”

“Fair enough,” the Prince scoffed at that and you knew from the shift in the air that your words had pulled some string that shouldn’t have been pulled. Maybe the King had gone ahead and promised Utopia’s cooperation on his own.

You found that out soon enough.

After dinner and a speech from the King, the party concluded and you farewelled the guests before you accompanied the King back to your chambers. The Prince parted ways for the night and you found yourself alone with your husband, a deadly silence as you walked arm in arm to your rooms with guards behind you. The King motioned the guards to stop a good distance behind-

And you knew tonight wasn’t going to end well.

As soon as you entered the chamber and the King looked around, he started invading your space until you were cornered.

“Did you have to sound like such a Utopian?”

You shut your eyes, not believing what you were hearing. “Don’t tell me you promised things to him without my knowledge.”

“And what if I did?” He challenged. “Your job is to convince back home that when the time comes, they will supply us with the funds for the army.”

“If you believe I have a say in that?” You scoffed. “You’re wrong-”

You weren’t sure if the sound of his palm meeting your cheek registered first or the pain but you staggered, almost landing on the floor. You shut your eyes in disbelief at how quickly your husband snapped and then you were further humbled when he knelt down and grabbed you by the jaw, glaring at you.

“If only you didn’t run that mouth of yours so much,” he spat. “I wouldn’t have to resort to this-”

“You would have anyway,” you challenged. “You’re a sorry excuse of a man.”

You watched the King’s mouth part in surprise- this was the first time you had verbally retaliated. He got up with a scoff, pacing the room for a few seconds while you gathered yourself, about to go to your room and maybe shut the door on his face-

“You know,” the King blocked your path, stepping in front of you. “I wonder why there’s this fire in your eyes. Have you been doing something behind my back?”

“Have you considered…” you took a deep breath, trying not to raise your voice, “for one moment that maybe, just maybe I am done being treated like a ragdoll?”

“A ragdoll?” The King laughed mockingly, poking his fingers against your sternum, pushing you in the process. “What did you say? Did you ever consider, Your Majesty,” he pushed again, making you stifle a groan. “That you have been misbehaving?”

“And what did I do?” You almost whispered. “I stated facts. Utopia won’t play along with your stupid plans. I saved you the trouble, Your Highness-”

This time, he pushed you properly, slamming you against the wall in the process. “Utopia will bend. I will make sure of it. But first, I have to make you bend to my will.”

You knew that nothing you said now would get through him. His eyes went blank as he pushed you to the ground and kicked at your legs, walking around the room while you clutched at your leg- he was always cruel enough to give you time to recover before he carried on. He picked some box from the mantel and threw it in your direction, the metal meeting the flesh on your arm and you were glad it was only the arm because it hurt like hell. And then you were being picked up and he assessed you once, slowly, before pushing you harshly, making you knock against the shelf and shatter a vase in the process, the shard of which buried in your forearm painfully-

And you stopped breathing when you spotted a shadow move in your room.

It was San, and he looked angry.

And he was clutching a dagger in his fist.

You couldn’t feel the pain anymore- instead, fear overtook you- you made sure not to look at him again but you shook your head furiously, willing him, begging him to stay in the dark but somehow, you knew he couldn’t stand the sight of it and would interrupt-

So you did the only thing you could think of. You clutched a shard in your hand and when the King stood to strike you again, you met it with the shard which lodged in his fist.

“That is enough, Your Highness, please,” you begged. “Come to your senses-”

“You bitch,” he groaned, clutching at his wrist and it looked like the pain finally made him acknowledge the mess he had created. He stood conflicted, raising his hands to strike you again but then clutching his bleeding wrist.

“Please, go away and get it treated,” you begged. “Say that you fell or something, that it was dark, just please, go away,” you cried and the King shot you a warning look before cursing more under his breath and promising he would have a talk with you soon. Then he turned and left the chamber.

And you found yourself finally relaxing enough to sink to the floor and sob because you had almost ruined everything you had worked for. You had almost ruined your plan. You had risked San’s life in the process. You had made everything worse-

But you fought back this time. Maybe, just maybe… the King would come to his senses or at least this madness would stop.

You wiped your face, taking off your net gloves and letting out a short laugh when you saw they had ripped- your maids would be pissed. You tossed them away and slumped against the wall, the shards still around you.

And then you spotted the shadow move again- but he didn’t dare take one step towards you.

“It’s okay to come out now, you know.”

San sighed deeply- he wished he could disappear in the shadows. He didn’t realise how angry, absolutely furious he could be until this moment. He could have slit the King’s throat right there- not only because he was the King and you were the Queen, but… no woman deserved to be treated like that, to be shoved like she weighed nothing. He stood clenching his fists, wondering if he should have done it, if he could have protected you-

“I might start to think I’m hallucinating if you don’t step out now,” he heard you call and he looked up, watching you pick the shard out of your arm and whistling at the pain.

And that finally prompted him to move and step into the dim light of the main room. He went towards where you kept your medical kit and then he settled down next to you, not meeting your eyes but putting pressure on your wound with a handkerchief and then inspecting it a few moments later, relieved it only needed a bandage. You watched him expertly tie a bandage around your arm and then he rolled your sleeves up to inspect for more damage-

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whispered.

He sighed deeply, gulping as he gathered his courage and tried subduing his anger, but one look at your tear-stained face and messy hair and the absolutely vulnerable eyes, and something in him broke again.

“What kind of a man am I if I can’t protect you?”

“San-”

“I know why you stopped me. I know I promised not to interfere and I know I almost killed that bastard, but y/n,” his brows furrowed as he brought his hand to your face, cupping it and then almost losing it when you shut your eyes and leaned into his touch. “I failed you.”

“No, you didn’t,” you locked your gaze with his. “You saved me tonight. I have never fought back once, but tonight… you saved me, San.”

San wasn’t sure how many times you were going to break his heart and then piece it together tonight. And despite walking on eggshells around you for the past few days ever since he almost crossed the boundary with you, he decided he would heal himself tonight.

He decided to finish what you couldn’t last time, and he leaned in to lock his lips with yours.

A million thoughts ran through his head- but being the King’s Right Hand and kissing his wife, the Queen, was the least of his worries right now. He didn’t care if he would get executed for this, but… what if you only thought of him as a servant? What if the last time had only been in the spur of the moment-

He broke apart when he felt his thumb getting wet from your tears and he truly wondered if he had made a mistake, but…

You were smiling. You leaned forward, on your knees, and met his lips again and this time, he kissed you properly, his lips moving with yours and his hands holding you carefully, aware that you must be in pain and hurting-

But that wasn’t enough for you. You broke apart again, a newfound strength in you. Your breath hitched as you took in his features now that you were so close to him. You held his face in your hands, crawling in his lap and towering over him, joining your foreheads.

“Don’t hold me like I’ll break,” you warned him. “I want you to kiss me harder. Kiss me like you mean it.”

And that was all the confirmation San needed- his grip on your waist tightened considerably and he kissed you like he was hungry for it. And he didn’t bother staying silent- he groaned into the kiss loud enough to drive you a little insane and you responded with equal enthusiasm, melting into the kiss with each passing second. You locked your arms around his neck and as soon as he swiped his tongue across your lips, you opened your mouth and granted him access, your kisses turning more passionate. Soon, he had you bending and placed you on the floor gently, hovering above you and breaking apart to look at you, a faint smile on his lips.

“We shouldn’t be doing this… Your Majesty,” he whispered, kissing your temple and trailing his lips down your cheek.

“We really shouldn’t,” you pouted, unbuttoning his coat so he could take it off and he tossed it to the side. “But do I really look like I care right now?”

He chuckled, going back to kissing your jaw, trailing his lips down on your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Not longer than me,” you assured, squirming under him when his lips tickled your sweet spot. “You were somehow always the only person I wanted to be touched by.”

San groaned at that, looking at you. “If you say things like that, y/n, god help me-”

You leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss, effectively shutting him up, your fingers working to unbutton his shirt as you messily kissed, one hand guiding your face along while the other traced your curves. You wanted nothing more than to be skin on skin and perhaps he felt that- perhaps, he knew how much you craved this, longed for this. His shirt fell open and you admired the plane of his toned chest and body, running your hands across it. San caressed your face lovingly, kissing your forehead and lingering there.

“Stop thinking whatever you are,” you muttered, leaning forward. “Just do something.”

San looked at you as if asking for confirmation- he couldn’t quite believe this was really happening. His gaze fell to the bandage on your arm and he locked your hands, kissing your wrist. He rolled the sleeve up, wincing at the red bruise from the box the King had thrown at you.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” you told him. It was the truth- it didn’t hurt right now. You couldn’t feel any sort of pain right now, actually, save for the ache in your heart. You could only feel desire coursing through every vein in your body. San trailed kisses up your arm, looking at you for permission as his hand snaked up your back and you gladly gave him access to slide your dress down and he took his sweet time, taking in every inch of your skin, every piece of yourself you had to offer to him. The dress pooled around your hips, leaving you in a black bralette. San kissed your lips enthusiastically before trailing kisses down again, this time aiming to kiss every bruise and faint mark on your body.

You lay on your back, your hands running through his hair, your heart overwhelmed at how he still held and touched you like you could break. You wanted to tell him that you had already broken and he was healing you. You loved the feather kisses he dropped on your skin and you appreciated that he was taking his time with you. After he was done, he kissed you for a long time, simply moving his lips along yours. The exhaustion was starting to catch up now.

“Can we take this to bed?” You asked and he chuckled at that, nodding and helping you up but you almost stumbled due to the sudden blood rush. He caught you in his arms, helping you to your room. You took off your dress, now in your undergarments and he looked up. You smacked his arm before changing into your nightgown and then tapped his arm so he could relax and found him flustered.

“For someone who kissed like it was the last time, you sure are shy now,” you commented, going to the dresser and beginning to take all the clips out of your hair. San came to stand behind you, helping you and then playing with the curls in your hair. He caught you looking at him and he smiled sadly.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

“For what?” You turned to him and he tucked your hair back.

“For everything,” he sighed. “That is the last time that man touches you, okay? I won’t let it happen again. I swear on my life-”

“San-”

“No,” he shook his head, adamant. “I don’t care about anything- I won’t let him touch a hair on your body.”

You pursed your lips, feeling overwhelmed and he was quick to embrace you. You wrapped your arms around his back, letting him caress your hair and guide you both to the bed. Settling down, he drew the covers over the two of you after shrugging off his shirt.

“I’ll leave before the sun rises, is that okay?” He asked.

“I’d rather have you like this forever,” you buried your face in his chest, tangling your limbs together and his body shook as he laughed.

“Of course you would,” he tsk-ed. “Do you like me that much?”

“I do,” you weren’t going to lie. “What about it?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Well… the sentiments are returned.”

“Glad to hear,” you snuggled into him. “Kiss me to sleep.”

—--------------------------------

The night of the party had gone incredibly wrong- you physically injured the King. It had been three days and he hadn’t seen you since-

Which wasn’t too bad. You figured the King must have been ashamed for once because you finally fought back and made it clear that he had no control over you. You recalled over and over again what he had said that night-

“Utopia will bend. I will make sure of it. But first, I have to make you bend to my will.”

You had a solid plan in your head now- you were going to make sure the King’s plans would be exposed and go after the Prince of Wonderland first by contacting your spies. It was going to work. You didn’t know what you were going to do after that, but for now… you had to do something.

Because now, you had hope. You knew that having hope was dangerous especially at a time like this. You did not know how the future would play out from here, but you couldn’t help feeling like a silly little girl with hope as you drew the curtains away from the window and smiled at the bright sun.

And it didn’t help that San was making sure he treated you like the way you were meant to be.

You weren’t afraid to lock the main door of your chamber anymore after night time. After what the King had done to you, you could use the excuse of being scared of him (you genuinely were) in case he ever came here without notice. The King wasn’t visiting your chamber anymore, instead sending maids to do what needed to be done.

Good riddance, you thought. He should be ashamed.

And then at night time when you sent the maids away, you would lock the doors and wait for San. And no matter how late it got, San always came. He would knock on the door in your room and you would be quick to open it. He would embrace you as soon as he saw you. Sometimes you would talk first, or sometimes, you would get right into it and kiss each other. With each passing day and the anxiety that came with carrying this plan that could very well end up with you both being tried in court for treason, you two found comfort in each other. Your wishes to not be apart for one moment during the night grew more intense.

You would sit in his arms on the bed or on the couch in the living room as you talked. You would tell each other how your day went and other casual stuff. It was just you and San without the titles. He would caress your hair as you talked. You would play with his fingers or trace patterns on his arms as he held you. One of you would give in first and kiss the other. Sometimes, it was soft and continued for hours- just kissing and chatting, laughing as you talked in hushed voices as if afraid they could be carried out by the air.

But sometimes… It felt like San intended to break you apart. Sometimes his hands would consciously or unconsciously touch some bare skin on your legs as you cuddled which earned him a short gasp. Sometimes, he would let it go and wait for you, but sometimes, he would test the waters and trace his fingers up, up and up. Maybe you would slap his arm and giggle. More often than not, though, you would bare more skin for him. You wanted to be touched everywhere, and you had made it clear.

And he hadn’t disappointed.

You had a long day today and were just finishing responding to the last letter when you heard the familiar knocks on the escape door. You smiled to yourself, sealing the letter within an envelope and going into your room to open the door.

“You’re early tonight,” you said as a greeting and San kissed your forehead as he stepped inside.

“His Highness is in a sour mood today so he went out for drinks with the Earl,” he told you and you shrugged.

“Wonder what’s got him so sour lately,” you started towards the living room.

“Maybe the wound on his hand refuses to heal,” San chuckled. “You have no idea how hard it is to hold back a smirk everytime I see him wince in pain.”

“Satisfying, isn’t it?” You grinned and you both sat next to each other in the living room. “Did you receive a response yet?”

You were referring to the letter you had sent to who you expected was the only person in the Prince of Wonderland’s court with some sense of what was right and wrong. The only person who wasn’t power hungry- a past advisor of your father as well.

“I did,” San took out a letter from the folds of his dark kimono and you opened it, reading the contents and smiling in satisfaction.

“I knew the court of the Prince didn’t align with his views, but I didn’t realise they would be this eager to do something about it,” you looked at San. “I always knew Lord Jeong hated his job as a court member in Wonderland. This is… interesting.”

San sighed in relief. “I’m surprised he agreed, actually. I know he’s wiser than the rest of the members who seem to have nothing up here,” San tapped his head, “but I didn’t think he would agree so easily. If he gets caught, he will be executed.”

“And so will we,” you looked at San pointedly. “Lord Jeong must have realised that we’re risking a lot too. Some people… they are inherently good, San. Like you. Like Lord Jeong. They always side with justice, and there’s nothing just about what Wonderland and Eden are planning to do with the annexations.”

San nodded slowly at that. “Sometimes, I wonder what went wrong with the King. I thought he was a very respectable leader. I don’t understand when and why his hunger to grab more and more began.”

He had talked about it once with you. You shifted towards him, caressing his arm. “Were you ever… on friendly terms?”

“Not really, he’s always kept a distance from the court members, and I wouldn’t call what we had ‘friendship’,” he said, “But he still shares almost everything he plans with me. Yes, I’m his Right Hand, but he almost expects me to play along. Maybe he is testing me and will find out I’m doing something behind his back. Maybe he won’t because nothing has changed between us, really. I’m trying to act normal when I’m with him but everytime I see him with a smug face as he and the other court members disrespect the women in court or their wives… I want to scratch that smugness off his face.”

You chuckled at that. “You’re just too good for this world, San. And honestly it’s a goddamned miracle that I found you.”

San looked surprised to hear that and you laughed again. “What?”

“You talk as if you weren’t going to expose, maybe even overthrow the King all by yourself,” San leaned forward to peck your lips. “I don’t think my presence has changed much.”

“You have no idea how much your presence has changed things,” you wished he could look at himself from your eyes. “I’m pretty sure I would have done something horrible to the King- or myself- if I didn’t know you had my back.”

San pursed his lips in thought as he watched you shuffle closer so you could hide your face in the crook of his neck. You breathed in his scent, memorising it before you drew away to look at him.

“Will you stick with me after all of this? No matter where I end up? You don’t have to say yes-”

“Of course I will,” San cupped your face in his hands, his heart aching at the way you sounded so small while asking that question. “There’s no place I’d rather be than with you. I intend to follow you wherever you go… if I have your permission.”

You took his hands away from your face, making his heart sink in fear, only for you to curl your fingers around them as you leaned forward settling yourself in his lap, his hands pinned to the couch and your lips inches away from his. You scanned his face, feeling some strange satisfaction to see his eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

“Wherever I go?” You whispered, leaning in so your lips caressed his and then drawing away. “Don’t tell me you want me, Lord Choi.”

San scoffed- scoffed at that. “Didn’t I tell you? You’ll always be my queen.”

You recalled when San had told you that- the first time before he hugged you. You tightened your grip on his hands and locked your lips with his, his response eager. Your legs were on either side of him and you propped yourself a bit closer as you kissed him and he sighed when you rolled your hips on his lap experimentally.

“You do know what you’re doing, don’t you, Your Majesty?” San whispered as he broke apart, immediately trailing kisses down your neck- he had held on for too long. The nightgown you wore tonight didn’t cover much.

“Oh, this?” You rolled your hips again, feeling the telltale signs of a bulge even through layers of clothes. “I think I do, Lord Choi.”

“And you do know,” San sucked at your sweet spot, careful not to leave a mark on your neck and moving his lips elsewhere immediately. “You do know that I find it very hard to hold myself back when it comes to you, don’t you?”

“Who said I want you to hold back?” You drew your hands away, placing them on his shoulders now. “Maybe I don’t want you to hold back tonight.”

San stopped trailing kisses on your skin and looked up at you- oh, he wanted nothing more than to have you in every possible way, but you were the queen. He already thought he was crossing a lot of boundaries and sometimes found himself thinking if maybe you’d regret this someday-

“Do you want me, San?” You asked. “Please, be honest. Do you want me?”

“I thought you knew,” San’s brows furrowed in concentration as he scanned your face for any hints of hesitation. “I thought it was obvious how much I wanted you. But are you sure you won’t regret any of this-”

“I won’t,” you assured him, cupping his face. “I would be honoured to have you, Choi San.”

San laughed in shock and disbelief. “I should be the one saying that- you’re literally the queen of two kingdoms-”

“And who cares about that?” You interrupted, tucking his hair away from his face as you said, “I’m lucky to be here right now, with you. I feel like you deserve someone better, not a woman who’s already married and is a sorry excuse of a-”

“A contract marriage,” San’s grip on your waist tightened. “And even if everything else was okay, I’m lucky to be the man who makes you happy. And I’m sorry the King never did that for you.”

“I told you to stop apologising for the King,” you pouted.

“Only when you stop thinking of yourself as unworthy,” San wasn’t having any of your excuses. “You’re worthy of love, and if I can make you happy… then I don’t need anything else. So I’ll ask again… do you want me? Despite everything? Despite what the future may hold?”

“I do,” you said, never so sure about anything until now. “I’ve wanted you for so, so long.”

San’s lip curved into a smirk at that. “Now… that’s new.”

“Really?” You rolled your hips for good measure again and this time, San’s hands started trailing down your legs. “I thought it was obvious.”

“I thought that was just how you were,” San leaned in to kiss your jaw. “I just didn’t think you only looked at me that way.”

“Pretty sure you never saw me looking at the King that way,” you muttered and he laughed, tracing patterns on your skin as he started baring your thighs.

“Ah? And did you fantasise about being touched by me? Before everything?”

“Maybe I did,” you kissed his lips. “You’re kind of hot. It’s hard not to, especially when no one around you cares enough.”

“And do you fantasise about every other ‘hot’ person in your court?” San tsk-ed at that. “Did you have someone like this back home too?”

You laughed deeply at that, amused by the way San was leading the conversation, but you intended to make him sure by the end of the night that he was the only one for you. “Never. Never in my wildest dreams. And I’m not that dirty, Choi San. I didn’t fantasise about this- oh.”

Your words became lost when San trailed his hands up your thighs, spreading you more for him and then bringing his hands back down. He was teasing you. He always did before he touched you.

“So what exactly went on in your head when you saw me?” San had a shit-eating grin on his face and you were tempted to wipe it off with a kiss.

“Oh, just how you seemed like a nice person,” you shrugged, grinning when he shook his head. “Come on, you know. If you hadn’t thought about me a little too, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I just thought you made a nice queen,” San shrugged just like you, tracing his hands back up. “Never did I think I would have the privilege to touch you.”

And then he traced a finger up your panties, finding them hot and wet, earning a gasp from you. “Already? I thought you-”

You didn’t let him finish as you smashed your lips against his and he immediately melted into the kiss, one hand trailing back to your waist while the other played around your thigh, more focused on making out with you. While your tongues battled for dominance, he took the chance and hooked his thumb in the waistband of your panties, bringing it down a bit. You weren’t even breaking apart for air, the kisses getting more passionate and when he finally slid one finger between the garment and over your wet folds, you gasped into the kiss.

“So wet for me,” he tsk-ed again. “Always so ready for me.”

“Shut up,” you told him, making him chuckle. You found it harder to keep yourself propped on his lap without sinking back and San seemed to understand, perhaps with the way your thighs trembled with every movement of his finger between your wet folds. He had done this once now, so he knew how submissive you were at times like this. He just liked the idea of making you wait until you were antsy enough before he finally slid his fingers inside you.

And right now… he needed to rile you up just a tad bit more. So foregoing any rationality, he muttered ‘you better be good at makeup’ before going right back to your neck and attacking it with kisses and nibbles and letting his fingers trace your clit, making you squirm within his grasp with the overload of sensations. Your hands gripped at his shoulders, working your hips along to his movements and when he finally dipped one finger inside of you, you sighed in relief, immediately riding his finger-

“Not so quick, Your Majesty,” he warned. You could swear his calling you with your title undid something in you- especially when in a position like this. You let him take control and he slid another finger inside you, his thumb on your clit drawing circles and relaxing you as he slowly paced his digits inside your walls.

“That feel good?” He asked and you nodded, barely able to speak. You looked at him before sliding his kimono down his shoulders and then you ran your hands over his chest, gripping his shoulders before rolling your hips on his fingers.

“San, please,” you muttered against his lips, locking them with yours as if you could convince him to make you come with a kiss alone.

San broke apart, his eyes focused on your lips as his fingers changed their pace inside you and his thumb started rubbing your clit with more pressure. “Please what?”

“I’m so close,” you almost begged, your whines only fueling him. “You know what to do.”

He did. He pressed his thumb against your clit and curled his fingers inside you and you buried your face and your moans against his neck as you trembled all over, your hips bucking against his fingers.

But this time, San immediately pushed you back so you lay flat on the couch and instead of reaching for something to wipe you with, he looked at you.

“Can I clean you up, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, goodness, yes,” you sighed delightfully and he grinned, sliding your panties off you and immediately latching his lips to your core, the sensation alone making your back arch. San gripped your thighs though, effectively pinning you down and spreading you apart so he could have full access. And he wasn’t silent at all. The lewd sound of his tongue diving in and out of you, slurping in everything was driving you to yet another high.

You ached to squeeze your thighs shut but his restraint was sure so you clenched at his hair, only making him go harder on you. His nose brushing against your already sensitive clit made you moan loudly into the pillow and you couldn’t even form two sentences to beg him to do something, anything. One look at his glistening lips and nose as he glanced at you and you were already almost there. All it took was him licking up a stripe and then sucking at your clit and you were shaking uncontrollably again as another wave of orgasm hit you, the most intense thing you had ever experienced.

San eagerly helped you through it and when he wiped his face with his sleeves, you felt a fresh wave of arousal as he looked at you, his kimono hanging by his hips, his eyes hungry. And you may have asked him to let you please him too but he was already leaning in to kiss you and this time, he drove his tongue inside you on purpose, making you taste yourself on him.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathed against your lips.

“Shall we take this to bed?” You whispered and he nodded, about to get up but you pulled his hand.

“Please take that thing off first,” you laughed, pointing at his clothes.

“Oh? What do you intend to do to me?” He smirked.

“I told you that I want you,” you said and his eyes darkened. He licked his lips in contemplation before he picked you up and you realised then how spent you were, yet so eager to have him where you wanted him the most.

He lay you down on the bed and took off his clothes, now in his sole piece of undergarment, leaving nothing to imagination. You stared shamelessly while catching your breath and he scoffed. “Can I take that off too?”

“Oh?” You looked down at your nightgown. “By all means.”

You watched San draw closer to you, the glow of the candles by your bedside casting beautiful shadows on his face. He started unbuttoning your gown and you helped him to take it off. And just like always, San sucked in a breath at the sight of you as if this was his first time seeing you bare yourself to him- this time was different. You had never been this bare in front of him. He traced his hands along your curves, taking his time as he peppered kisses at random spots. All the while, your hands remained in his hair, caressing his head softly and you beckoned him to come closer so you could kiss him.

As you moved your lips against his softly, his hand came to rest on your waist, the other guiding you along. You started shifting so he lay on his side and he brought you closer, making you rest one leg on top of him and you didn’t know if it was intentional but when your core met his bulge, now separated by only a single layer, you moaned into the kiss as you deepened it.

You let your hand travel down, making him grin into the kiss. You traced his toned muscles until you reached his abdomen. As he kissed you with more intensity, you palmed his length, finding him rock hard. You broke apart and looked at him for permission and when he subtly nodded, you looked down between your bodies and began to slide your hand under his clothes-

“Wait,” he breathed, taking off his underwear in a single motion, his hard length springing up in full glory, swollen and leaking. You licked your lips at the sight, watching him prop himself against the bed and bringing you on top of him, wedging his length between your folds so you could rock against him as he captured your lips once again. This time, you opened your mouth and his tongue dove right in, exploring your mouth while he rocked you against his length. You gasped when the head of his cock rubbed against your entrance and you simply couldn’t take it any longer.

“San,” you breathed, drawing his hair away from his flushed face. “Please.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to drive his cock inside you and wreck you.

“I… I’ve been taking contraceptives in case the King tried anything,” you admitted. His features contorted in anger and you shushed him, peppering kisses all over his face. “I want you to be the first.”

“The first?” He asked and you nodded again. He suspected it but now that he had a confirmation... “I shouldn’t-”

“You can, if you want to,” you told him, kissing his lips. “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else. Only if you want to.”

“I want to, I want to so bad,” he shifted your positions, making you lay down on your back and it was like he suddenly found a new purpose. His demeanour changed and he started trailing kisses all over your body. “Just relax then. Tonight is all about you.”

You obeyed though you were pretty sure you sounded impatient. San fondled with your breasts, peppering kisses along them and then down to your stomach. He looked at you again, trying to spot any signs of hesitance but you looked so sure that he couldn’t help it.

“Are you ready?” He asked and you nodded, bracing yourself when he rubbed his cock against your folds. He laughed a little at that, kissing your temple and whispering, “Relax and breathe.” Then he started sinking his cock inside you and you felt a little sting as he entered, slowly but surely. All the while, he cooed praises into your ears, caressing your waist and asking if you felt okay. He wasn’t sure how long he would last because you felt so tight against him, but he would hold on for you.

“How does it feel?”

“Full,” you laughed, finally relaxing when you felt him bottom out. He grinned at that. “I think you can move now.”

“You think?” He teased. “For someone who’s never done this before, you sure acted like a pro.”

“I may have read some fiction to entertain myself in this boring dungeon…” you admitted and he laughed. He rolled his hips experimentally and you sucked in a breath at the sensation, wondering how it could feel so good. Slowly, he set a pace comfortable enough for both of you while he kissed your sweet spot, sucking a mark into it.

“You might want to hide that in the morning,” he kissed the spot.

“Well, I’ve been hiding marks for far too long now,” you scoffed. “But how would you hide them if I gave you one?”

“I wouldn’t hide it,” San mumbled against your lips, pecking them. “I’d show it off proudly.”

You smacked his arm and he grinned, his gaze going hard as he slammed his cock inside you once, earning a loud moan. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Again. Harder.”

And just like that, something in San broke. He quickened his pace, making sure to hit that one spot every time he drove his cock inside you after almost sliding out. The sounds of your pants and your bodies slamming against each other filled the air now that your highs were approaching. The kisses got messier, and when his hand rested on your neck, your walls clenched, making him groan loudly. He held your face in one hand, pulling one leg up so he was unbelievably close to you as he slammed his cock inside again.

You could only call his name in warning as your walls clenched and you trembled like nothing before, the orgasm rushing through you and making you limbless, barely able to breathe. The sensation of your walls clenching and unclenching did it for him too, but just as he was about to slide out of you, you wrapped your legs around him and pushed him back inside, making him drop his body on yours as his own orgasm washed over him and you couldn’t have asked for anything more- the feeling of his warm cum coating your walls was enough to send you into heaven. He laughed in disbelief, burying his face in the crook of your neck, letting you rock your bodies together until you were satisfied.

“You’re unbelievable,” he kissed your temple, loving the feeling of your bodies wrapped around each other. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You only smiled, pushing your intertwined limbs so you were half on top of him. “I’m gonna sleep just like this tonight.”

“I’ll bust a nut in a few minutes if you keep me like this,” San muttered and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t mind a second round.”

“Shh,” San smacked your arm playfully. “Let me clean you up. You don’t want the maids to find you in this state.”

“True,” you pouted. “But they will probably be able to smell the love in the air.”

“Try not to make it obvious,” he laughed and you decided to stay like that just a little longer.

—---------------------------

The King finally came to your chamber after a week. You weren’t sure if he wanted to, more like he had to because it looked like he finally needed you again.

He apologised whenever he needed something from you, it had always been like this. You were just waiting for him to stop making small talk and get to the point.

He walked with his hands crossed behind his back, examining the living room, the maids long gone giving you two some privacy. You thought he looked funny walking like that- as if he was coming here for the first time. You put two sugars in his cup of tea as he preferred and when you started to stir it, he finally sat down in front of you.

“I went to town a couple of days ago and came across Lord Han. He inquired about your health.”

“And did he look okay?” You sipped your tea. “I remember he complained a lot about his joints the last time we met.”

“He seemed fine,” your husband responded, shrugging.

“And what about you? Your hand… is it okay?” You finally asked now that the small bandage was in your sight.

“Yeah, it was only a small cut, nothing much,” he coughed awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry for that night. I shouldn’t have gone so far.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you nodded. “You shouldn’t have begun. You know I don’t have much influence in Utopia. I only told the Prince the truth. You must have promised him Utopia’s support, isn’t that the case?”

When he didn’t respond, only clenching his jaw as if holding back a remark, you said softly, “If you had told me about the deal earlier, I would have tried to pull some strings. Now you’re halfway there and want to add Utopia in this deal because Eden and Wonderland are lacking funds. It’s clear as day that you’re only using them- and I’m not saying this as a Utopian. You’re smart- you clearly realise that too.”

“Well… can you do something now? I really don’t want to cancel this deal,” he sighed.

“Do you ever wonder if you’re biting off more than you can chew? Not with Utopia… with Wonderland and all these plans about annexing islands that your family helped gain independence?”

“They didn’t know any better,” the King wasn’t buying it. “When my grandfather made it happen, he didn’t realise that we were giving away the resources that once helped our kingdom become steady and stand on its feet.”

“But… despite how you have been with me as a husband,” you said and he raised a brow, “I still believe you’re a good ruler. You’ve always been fair, and this deal is anything but fair. I don’t know what else the Prince of Wonderland has promised you, but will you at least reconsider? Do you not care for the destruction that will ensue from this deal?”

For a second, for a good second, you thought his eyes softened and he actually reconsidered. And for that second, you were ready to redact your plan to destroy him. You would have forgiven him and asked for a divorce, plain and simple. But when his gaze hardened, you felt your heart shatter- he was beyond help.

And his words only proved it.

“Who’s backing you? Huh? Trying a new tactic to make me give in? Or have you already corresponded back home and plan to side against us?”

You shut your eyes as you exhaled deeply. “You know what? Fine. I’ll write a letter in front of you. In fact, you can write it yourself and send it to Utopia. No one is backing me. And I hope you find yourself in a situation where no one backs you either, and you get a taste of what that feels like,” you got up after nearly slamming the cup on the table. “Your parents, your grandparents… everything they worked for, you’ll be undoing it. They’ll be ashamed of you.”

Before the King could retort in any way, physical or verbal, you decided to leave the chamber itself- staying in here wouldn’t help you in any way. He would either spend the rest of the evening cursing you or trying to get you to bend and you couldn’t have that. You raised a hand in dismissal when a guard tried following you- a clear sign to be left alone.

You descended the stairs, the maids and servants bowing when you crossed their path. You had never explored too much of the castle and you only knew the way to the halls and the kitchens. You walked without a direction in your head, wanting to get lost-

And a sharp turn later, you almost bumped into a figure, gentle hands bracing your figure, a touch that you recognised immediately-

“San,” you breathed and he scanned you in surprise.

“Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

“I was just… taking a walk,” you looked back, nobody in sight. “Where are you headed?”

“I had an errand to run,” he waved the documents in his hands. “But what is the Queen really doing here?”

You sighed. “He was in my room and we had an argument. I stormed off.”

San looked around once before kissing your forehead. “Do you want some fresh air? Shall I accompany you to the gardens?”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s best that we’re not seen together. I’ll go to the gardens myself, and… will I see you tonight?”

“If the King goes to his room, yes,” he promised, squeezing your shoulder in assurance. “Let me drop you off at least.”

You shrugged, following him as he briefed you about the latest court meeting the King attended. You found your maid in a corner with a few others and when she spotted you, she bowed before running to you.

“Good thing that I found you,” you smiled at her. “I got lost. Lord Choi was kind enough to guide me to the gardens.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ve been here for three years and I still get lost,” she admitted and San stifled a smile. “Shall I take you from here?”

“Yes, Lord Choi must be busy, let’s not bother the poor man,” you subtly winked at him and he bowed before leaving, his eyes holding promise of what he would do with you if he saw you at night. The excitement of that alone was enough to relax you and you followed your maid, listening to her as she talked about the new crocheting skill she learned from an elder.

When night time approached and San came to your room, you went straight to work. You were still locking the door of the chamber and it looked like the King hadn’t found out yet anyway. He never bothered coming anymore- and that was good. You didn’t want him either.

You first talked about the plan with San, going to your office and reading through the latest correspondence from Wonderland- the Prince had already deposited a large sum to the King. The King was still holding back on the blueprints of the weapons though, perhaps hoping to secure Utopia’s alliance first. At least he was smart enough to do that, you thought. Then San gave you another letter from Lord Jeong in Wonderland and you read it out loud.

“There’s a third party involved that your king does not know of yet- their oldest enemy. They have been offered what you offered to our nation but there has been no talk about what they will offer us in return. Foul play? Sounds like something your king should know,” you looked at San. “A third party?”

“Wonderland’s oldest enemy would be Halaland,” San thought for a moment. “So Lord Jeong is saying that Wonderland is offering to share the weapons blueprints that we’re providing them with. And whatever Halaland has promised Wonderland in return is a secret?”

“Foul play,” you recalled. “Maybe the army Wonderland is providing us with will ultimately take over Eden. Maybe Wonderland and Halaland will get to share what’s left of this kingdom by the time they’re done.”

San shook his head in disappointment. “The King… he does not realise what he’s gotten himself into. The Prince of Wonderland is really something to have brainwashed him this much.”

“You know,” you placed the letter on the table. “When the King came here in the afternoon, I gave him one final chance. I was willing to end this with a silent divorce if he was willing to reconsider his deal with Wonderland,” you sighed deeply. “He ended up wondering if I was being ‘backed’ by someone and was siding against him.”

“He doesn’t even deserve that chance,” San shook his head. “That could have ended badly, y/n.”

“I know,” you pursed your lips. “I’m not even disappointed anymore, I’m just… sad. It’s a shame that it had to end this way.”

“It really is,” San nodded. “But I can’t think of any other way we can save Eden. We can’t let him carry out this plan and destroy Eden just so he can feel accomplished. And maybe it’s the people around him that misguided him too- all those earls and dukes he hangs out with,” San tsk-ed. “He keeps asking my opinion on things. I think he wants to see if I really agree with him or if I’m just playing along.”

“So when we do this… we’ll have to testify against him in court. Provide evidence. I trust you’ve been taking care of that part?”

“I’m the keeper of all those documents,” San nodded. “Unless the King catches on to our plan, which is unlikely, I think we’re good. What about you?”

“I decided to go through the King’s office last night,” you told him, getting up and urging him to follow you. You opened the door to his office and turned on the lamp, steering towards the King’s table. “I found a hidden compartment in here,” you patted underneath the desk. “I thought you might be skilled enough to open it.”

San knelt down to inspect the lock. “It requires a key. I bet the King keeps it on him.”

“Well, do you know how to pick locks?” You asked and he said he could try. He looked around for some tool before his gaze fixated on your pinned hair and he grinned, pulling it out of your hair and bending down. You waited anxiously but when San shook his head, you pouted.

“It’s a good lock,” he said. “Might steal the key some day.”

“Don’t bother, I have plenty of other evidence,” you told him. ��I was just curious what else he kept here.”

San nodded, tucking the chunk of hair that had escaped your tied hair and pinning it back, a faint smile on his lips as he trailed his fingers along the side of your face and rested it under your chin. “So… shall we start searching for allies in the court?”

“I think so,” you said, watching his eyes turn soft as they fell on your lips. “I could start with the people who sided with Utopia two decades ago.”

“Sounds like a plan,” San’s voice was low and he swiped a thumb across your lower lip. “The door is locked, yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathed, and San was immediately crashing his lips on yours, his arms keeping you tucked to his body and you responded with the same eagerness, fisting his shirt. His tongue prodded between your lips and you opened your mouth, kissing him back passionately while his tongue explored your mouth. You kissed for a while before you drew back for breath, laughing.

“What’s with the sudden change of mood?”

San smirked dangerously, picking you up and you squealed, instinctively wrapping your legs around him. He placed you on the King’s desk, hands on either side of you as he locked eyes with you, now matching your height.

“I’ve been planning to make a mess of his office,” San admitted, leaning in and you heard the sounds of the objects falling from the desk when he swiped his hand across to make space. “And now seems like a perfect time.”

Your mouth parted in surprise as a wave of arousal washed over you- taking you in the King’s office? “You’re insane.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t fantasised about this,” San started trailing kisses along your neck. “Because I want to make love to you everywhere. I want to fuck you on the King’s desk, the King’s bed, his furniture, the walls of his chamber. And I want to paint your walls with my cum. Show him that this is what he gets for whatever he did to you. And I want to hear you scream my name. God, I wish he could hear that.”

You were pretty sure you almost came from his words alone. “San,” you pleaded, drawing him closer with uneven breaths. San kissed you deeply, joining his forehead with yours.

“I’m sometimes mad at him for treating you like this, but…” San scoffed. “I know it’s what brought us together. I can’t thank him for what he did, but god, I’m so glad that you are mine. I wish he loved you but I’m glad he didn’t, because now I can show you what it’s like to be loved. I love you.”

“I understand,” you told him, almost crying. You really did. “If I hadn’t married him… I wouldn’t have found you.” You pecked his lips. “And whatever happened, it’s sad but… I’m glad you came. I’m glad I found you, and I love you more than you can imagine.”

San kissed you again, this time sensually, just revelling in the feeling of how well your lips fit as if made for each other while his fingers untied your gown, making it slip away to your shoulders. While he kissed you, he ran his hands across your chest, fondling your breast and then he broke apart only to latch his mouth on one of your breasts while he caressed the other, eliciting a deep moan out of you. His lips travelled further down, trailing kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties.

“Won’t you be a good girl and take them off for me?” He whispered against your core and you fought the urge to ride his face. You instead pushed him back with a pout, making him chuckle deeply. You shimmied your panties off, the cold air of the room making you clench your thighs together but San tsk-ed, pushing your legs apart to make room for him.

“So pretty,” he licked his lips at the sight of your soaking core, kissing your lips once before going straight for your clit and kissing it, making you groan. Then he swiped his tongue along your folds, lapping at your arousal hungrily and simultaneously inserting a finger inside you. All of the sensations were enough to make you squirm wildly, unable to do anything except clench the sides of the desk while your back arched at the feeling of his mouth on your core and his finger inside you. He prodded another finger inside, smirking at the face you made- bliss.

“So needy for me, aren’t you?” He scissored inside, preparing you for what was about to come. “What would the King think if he found his queen being fucked by his most loyal servant?”

“Not… not his queen,” you managed to say. “Only yours. Only your queen.”

San seemed to like that answer and he placed his free hand behind your neck to bring you to his lips, kissing you passionately and swallowing your moans as you finally got the chance to clench your thighs, rolling your hips while he pressed his thumb to your clit. Just when your walls clenched as an indication that you were about to come, San drew apart and pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and you shook your head at the sight. His gaze darkened and he cupped your chin, opening your mouth and inserting those very fingers in there, making you suck at them.

“Like how you taste on me?” He asked, groaning at the sight of your glazed eyes. “You sure know how to use your mouth, Princess.”

“I want you,” you told him as you unbuttoned his shirt, going for his pants but he shook his head.

“Not now,” he took them off himself. “I want to fuck you raw right here, right now.”

You scoffed and spread your thighs for him and he swiped his hard length along your folds, lubricating them before entering slowly, stretching you out. Once he was fully inside you, he thrusted inside once, swallowing your loud moan with a kiss. Soon, he set at a steady pace, making you more and more desperate with each thrust.

“San, I’m so close,” you told him.

“So am I,” he groaned, his grip on your hips harsh enough to leave marks. You were balancing yourself with your arms around his neck and it looked like he had an idea- he unwrapped your arms and made you lay down on the desk and when you put your legs on his shoulders, he grinned in satisfaction.

“Feel that?” He thrusted inside you with all his might and you put a hand over your mouth to stifle the unholy sound of pleasure that would have left you. “So fucking tight, and so fucking full.”

You couldn’t even respond- you were seeing stars, and you had never felt this pleasured, this wanted before. San pressed kisses on your leg as he continued thrusting inside you, your moans mixing with each other, his hands on your waist keeping you close to him.

“Come for me, my queen,” he groaned and your walls fluttered around him. “Come for me.”

This time, you didn’t hold back your moans as your walls clenched and you squirmed under him and he came right with you, the feeling of his warm cum heightening your orgasm. You whimpered almost pathetically as he continued thrusting, fucking his cum inside you before sliding out, watching your pussy leaking on the King’s desk.

“What a sight,” he caressed your legs, drawing them down so he could lean forward and kiss you gently. “I could do this forever, y/n, fuck,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you so much.”

“Me too,” you said, barely able to breathe. “I love you.” You pecked his cheek before resting your head back on the desk, trying to calm down. “San, you’ll… you’ll stay with me, right? After all of this? Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

“Slow down, love,” San chuckled, grabbing some tissues and cleaning you up, tossing them in the bin and deciding to take you to bed first, muttering that cleaning could wait. He laid you down and settled next to you, drawing the covers over you both and you scooted closer, resting your head on his arm.

“I should ask you- what do you want to do after this is over? WIll you go back to your home?”

You bit your lips- you would have wanted to go home but things had changed now. Perhaps, San could hear your answer in your silence. He kissed your forehead. “You can tell me, y/n. I’ll go with you wherever you want.”

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. “You must have something you want to do if you’re not the King’s Right Hand anymore. You must have thought about how you wanted to settle down.”

“But things are different now, aren’t they?” He said, his voice almost a whisper. “Now, I’ll follow you to the edge of the earth.”

You laughed in disbelief at that, overwhelmed by his confession. “Let’s chase each other then. Wherever we go.”

—------------------------------

The next few days passed by in a blur- it was mostly you planning and corresponding with your ‘friends’ around the continent- Utopia’s spies might be a better term for some of them. You received confirmation that there was indeed a deal going around between Wonderland and Halaland and since Halaland was a well-established nation, you couldn’t think of anything else it would want except to expand its kingdom.

You and San barely had time to do anything other than exchange information and let your next moves play out. Your goal was to earn the favour of the King’s court before Lord Jeong in Wonderland would land the killing blow on the Prince. The Prince’s plans were soon going to become public and when the King would be wondering if they were just rumours or if they held any truth to them, that was when you were going to submit evidence against the King in the court. You were just waiting for Lord Jeong to arrive here with the physical evidence of weapons dealings between Wonderland and Halaland.

Though there was a lot going on, the King started making visits to your chamber more often. It was probably because he wanted to earn your favour and get Utopia to fund Eden. You wanted to tell him that getting Utopia’s funds would end with Eden’s downfall but he was entertaining none of your doubts, so you let him be. You let him yell at you whenever he wanted, you let him chat with you when he felt like it. You even let him caress your cheek and peck your lips, though it disgusted you now. The King knew that you wouldn’t give in so he was resorting to being physically affectionate with you. To make you think that he wasn’t the same man who would lose his mind and hurt you.

And maybe, if it weren’t for San showing you what it felt like to be loved, you would have caved in. If you hadn’t experienced love in its best form, you would have been starved for affection and thought that the King was really changing for good- but not now. Your thoughts had never been clearer.

Between all of this, you couldn’t stop worrying about the future. If your plan succeeded and the King divorced you… where would you go? Back to Utopia only to get wed to another man? You loved your home, yes, but it was cruel. Your parents wouldn’t let you stay unmarried for the rest of your life- you could already imagine how appalled they would be when you get divorced. Their scrutinising gazes… you could already feel them on your back.

As for Eden… you worried about its future. The court of the King was thirsty for power, and you sometimes worried if the people who knew of the deal with Wonderland supported him for the purpose of his eventual downfall so they could seat themselves on his throne. You decided to start looking into the King’s bloodline- he must have some relatives around. You were Utopian and you could not rule this kingdom.

With all of these thoughts plaguing your mind, when the knock sounded and your maids announced the arrival of Lord Kang, you straightened and welcomed him inside. After a bow, he settled in front of you.

“How has your family been?” You asked as a greeting. “I haven’t seen your sister in a while.”

“I told her to stay away from royal affairs,” he chuckled, a fondness in his eyes. “I think she enjoyed your anniversary party a bit too much- my apologies if she said or did something-”

“Not at all,” you laughed. “She makes quite pleasant company, you can tell her that.”

Lord Kang smiled and you offered him tea. After a sip, he finally asked. “Why did you request my presence today, Your Majesty?”

“Well, I wanted to discuss a few things with you,” you began. “I understand that you’re close with the King- you’re one of his trusted advisors.”

“That I am.”

“Then you must know about the deal we have going on with Wonderland,” you said and he nodded, curious to hear where this was going. “What do you think about the deal?”

“You want my opinion?” He asked and you nodded. He cleared his throat. “I think it’s a good deal but we lack funds-”

“Lord Kang,” you interrupted and he looked cautiously at you. “I was also a royal advisor until a year ago when I got married. You and I both know this deal isn’t as good as the King thinks it is, don’t we?”

When Lord Kang didn’t respond, you decided to give him another moment while you sipped your tea. “From what I’ve seen in the court, your decisions are always in the favour of Eden as a kingdom, not Eden as the King’s playground. Sometimes you offer opposing arguments to the King, which is why he trusts you- you make him see things from a different perspective. I want your perspective on this deal- not the King’s advisor, but simply Lord Kang.”

A faint smile crawled on his lips and he shook his head. “You want me to be honest with you?”

“Absolutely,” you glanced at him. “I hope that is not a problem.”

“I’d rather know what you think about the deal first, Your Majesty,” he relaxed back, folding his arms. “My answer could change depending on your answer.”

You scoffed but you could understand- he probably thought this was the King testing him out or something. Of course he didn’t know just what sort of a relationship you and the King had- and why would the Queen ever want the advice of her husband’s trusted man on this matter without the King’s knowledge? The King was out in town today so you had carefully chosen the time too.

“Are you aware of the deal between Wonderland and Halaland?”

“Wonderland and Halaland?” He frowned. “I am not aware.”

“Well, they do have something going on. And one might think- with the deal with Eden, why would Wonderland want to be involved with Halaland? It’s not a secret that Eden and Halaland hate each other.”

Lord Kang fell silent for a few minutes but then he sighed. “I’m not sure what we have going on with Wonderland is good either. We’re known for our armoury but to give that to Wonderland? Alright, if we get something good enough in return- but the annexation of the few islands that just gained independence from us not so long ago? Eden will be called a traitor nation, and this is not what the King’s parents and grandparents worked for.”

“My point exactly,” you nodded. “If it was, I don’t know, better trade? Opening a route? I would have agreed to the deal with all my heart. If it benefitted Eden, I would have no problem with it, but I’m not sure the current deal benefits Eden. And the King is demanding funds from Utopia, but Utopia won’t give in- Utopia and Wonderland have a history, as you know.”

“I’m aware.”

“The King thinks I can influence Utopia, but I cannot. I am the youngest of four which means even as the Queen of Eden, my position won’t influence my family.”

“You must be in a spot then,” Lord Kang cocked his head, trying to figure you out. “The King can only ask you for funds.”

“I am, and the King may be my husband, but if this deal goes on, what do you think Wonderland will do with the funds we give them? Help Eden annex the islands, and then?”

“Demand a share,” Lord Kang said and you nodded. “And Halaland…?”

“Wonderland is providing Eden with an army and demanding Utopia help them fund that army. What could Halaland want from Wonderland, Lord Kang? What is the one thing Halaland is lacking at?”

“A good armoury,” Lord Kang started connecting the dots. “You’re saying Wonderland will give our weapons blueprints to Halaland? For what?”

“For what?” You retorted. “You tell me, Lord Kang.”

Realisation dawned on his face and he frowned. “Your Majesty… are you sure? Where did you hear that?”

“I have some evidence, and some more arrives soon, but I hope this is enough,” you passed the register that had been lying on the table to Lord Kang for him to inspect it. While he scrolled through the entries and made sure the stamp on it seemed real, you finished your tea, feeling satisfied.

“Halaland is funding Wonderland. And it can only be for one reason- the army they will insert inside Eden will not only annex the islands, but make Eden submit to the two. Eden will be no more. The King refuses to see it,” you told him. “And the annexation of the islands alone is enough to get him tried in the court, isn’t that right? It violates a bunch of international laws. And if you knew about this annexation, Lord Kang, just why were you playing along with the King?”

Lord Kang sighed deeply. “The King… he only let me and Lord Jung know a few days ago, and he ordered us to carry on with his plans. There is obviously a hanging threat on our heads that he hasn’t said out loud yet, but we know that we have to tread cautiously. We don’t know who’s the enemy or who is the ally anymore. We’re confused, if you can’t tell already,” he sighed in defeat and you pursed your lips.

“Look, I have no ulterior motive today. I have tried every possible method to get the King to listen to me and see that this deal will get not only him but his kingdom destroyed, but he has also tried every possible means to make me bend to his will, and I’m not sure I can win without your support. The only thing I will get from this is a divorce, which I’ve wanted for quite some time now.”

Lord Kang frowned in confusion. “To make you bend to his will?”

You hadn’t planned this, but you figured someone should know. You rolled your sleeves a bit to show him the ugly blue bruise and scratch the King had left on you not too long ago. Lord Kang paled at the sight.

“I know your sister is quite a fan of the King,” you chuckled, “but men… men can be scary. Power is not meant for every man. Not a lot of them can handle it, and when they can’t… they resort to such means.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you told him. “Just know that I would have demanded a divorce anyway. This deal is providing me the opportunity to save Eden- and I don’t hate Eden- the people of Eden have always been nice to me. I hate the King. Believe me, I tried to make him see sense. But my job now is done, and I will be submitting all this evidence against the King and the Prince of Wonderland in the court. Would you like to be my ally in all of this, or would you rather see your kingdom fall?”

“I think you already know the answer,” he rubbed his face. “What should I do?”

You smiled at him. “I need more allies- only people you trust. Lord Choi… he is our ally too. Please work with him and get anyone who is good at heart at your side. The rest will be tried in the court along with the King. And the Prince of Wonderland… his days are numbered. You should know that. You have a week, and you all can try convincing the King if you can. In fact, it would be better if the King redacts from the plan, but please don’t let him get a wisp of the fact that I’m involved in all of this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Lord Kang put a hand on his heart. “I understand. And I admire your devotion to the kingdom that has failed you-”

“The kingdom didn’t fail me,” you smiled sadly. “Its ruler did. One week to decide his fate, Lord Kang. Save him if you can- it’s the last act of mercy I will allow him before I get what is owed to me.”

—-------------------------

You never thought this day would come- the bright lights in the Great Hall were making your head throb. The noise around you from the audience was deafening and the pounding of the gavel was synchronising with your heartbeat as you stared at the man who had ruined your life.

The King of Eden, now in the court facing you.

He wasn’t surprised anymore. The surprise had worn off a few days ago when he learnt about the evidence you had submitted against him in the royal court, when he tried confronting you- but you now had the protection of his own court, which was a slap on his face. He had taken one look around the room and found most of his trusted advisors and his Right Hand around you. And he had lost it.

He had absolutely lost it, and his advisors finally saw him as the man he was and not the King. They watched him yell at you and pick up a vase to throw at you, which was when a few of them restrained him and accompanied him to his chambers with the guards while Lord Kang sighed in disappointment, sharing a look with San and agreeing that it was no longer safe for you to stay in the castle- the accusations the King had spewed accompanied with the threats were enough to cause worry. So Lord Kang arranged a place for you- he was kind enough to offer you a room in his own house, and his sister was elated to be near you anyway, though quite disappointed about how things had turned out.

“The Queen may now speak. Silence must be observed while the situation is explained.”

You nodded at the judge. It was the final day of the court hearing and only your statement remained. The court members who had allied with you had given their statements- that included the King’s Right Hand San as well. Perhaps, his ‘betrayal’ hurt the King more than yours. After all… he was once his friend.

You recalled the events of last night. Though San and you had agreed not to meet up unless absolutely necessary, San had found you in Lord Kang’s gardens after his session in the court. You took one look at his face and knew that he was hurting, so you called him in your room there, finally sharing some privacy-

And San hugged you immediately, melting in your arms, almost losing balance. Your heart clenched and you sank down with him, letting him sort his thoughts out in your arms while you caressed his hair. When he finally drew apart, you caressed his face.

“I know how hard it was for you,” you told him. “And I’m sorry I put you through this.”

“No,” San shook his head. “It’s for the better. I did it for him too- for our kingdom. Maybe one day… he’ll return a better man and a better ruler.”

“Maybe,” you smiled, pecking his lips. “I’m so proud of you.”

San chuckled at that, shaking his head and muttering something about how the roles shifted.

You could understand exactly how he must have felt now that you were facing the King.

“Your honour… I’m not sure if it’s exactly the King’s fault for believing that the Prince of Wonderland could be trusted. But you are aware from all the hearings of our court during the past couple of weeks that the only crime the King has committed is almost selling off our kingdom unknowingly, with the greed of wanting to annex our bordering islands. Sharing top secret information about the weapons without the consent of the Minister of Defence- yes, the King has the final say but the Minister of Defence’s consent is necessary to avoid situations like the one that has now unfolded. And the fact that those blueprints would have ultimately been in Halaland’s hands?”

The room echoed agreements and the King looked down. You continued. “The King was not aware of the deal between Wonderland and Halaland. I can vouch for that. However… the King is responsible for violating the international code of weapons and armoury and the code of unlawful and illegal annexation. Since the damage is still minimal, I hope his sentence can be accordingly. However…”

The judge looked at you expectantly and you waited for the King to lock his gaze with yours, looking partly sorry and partly grateful that you weren’t exaggerating anything, you took a deep breath.

“Since everyone is present here, I would officially like to announce my demand for a divorce and stepping down as the Queen of Eden. I hope the matter of my divorce can be cleared before the King steps down from his position as well.”

The King sighed deeply at that, about to say something but then he stopped. Perhaps, he finally realised that nothing he said now could make it up to you. He had tried everything- he had also tried influencing the court but since you had witnesses now- San, Lord Kang and the maid who used to play chess with you- the judge had warned the King in the previous session to stop trying to threaten or bribe the court. The King had lost.

“I understand,” the judge pounded the gavel again and announced a break while they made the final decisions. You looked at the King- as your husband- for perhaps the last time.

You had demanded a divorce the day he burst into your chamber with the whole court present. The documents only needed his signature but he refused to comply out of spite, so you decided a public announcement would humble him- these judges were also handling the procedure of your divorce with this case because they had learnt how everything was connected- and how Utopia was meant to be a tool that Eden would provide with its own hands to the nations that would end her.

It did. You could see he looked weary now. Lord Kang and Lord Jeong stepped in and helped you out of the room to another hall nearby while you waited for the judges’ decision. Meanwhile, San, who was still the King’s Right Hand, was probably consoling the King. Or giving him a piece of his mind. You hoped it was both.

“How are you holding up?” Lord Kang asked, signalling the maids to get you something to drink.

You took a shaky breath. “Not the best. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Lord Jeong… you’re good, right? You still have a day in case you’re getting cold feet.”

Lord Jeong scoffed, shaking his head. “I still think it’s too much- just because I’m related to the King very distantly does not mean I’m fit for the throne.”

“Exactly,” Lord Kang quipped in. “But that’s not the reason we recommended you as the new king of Eden, though it was part of it.”

Lord Jeong shivered involuntarily and you grinned despite yourself. “You’ll make a good king. I feel it in my heart.”

He passed you an affectionate look. “Worry about yourself right now, dear.”

Lord Kang snorted at that and that sparked bickering between the three of you until one of the guards knocked to tell you that the court was ready to announce their decisions. You took a deep breath, the others mirroring your movement and the three of you shared a look before going to the court.

Everything was going to change from this moment.

And everything did change.

—------------------------

“Wooyoung, where did you put my speech?” You asked, checking all the drawers in the desk again. You recalled seeing him copying some bits from your speech, which earned him a smack from Yeosang, but he wasn’t bothered enough. You all knew he wasn’t going to read from a piece of paper anyway, he would simply improvise.

“Lord Jung Wooyoung,” you called in a warning tone which finally made him stop laughing at the very nervous, soon to be crowned Lord Jeong, who was pacing in front of the fireplace trying to play the events that would unfold tonight in his head, while the maid tried to get him to wear a jacket. The maid looked at you for help and you signalled her to settle down for now- no one could calm a nervous Lord Jeong.

“Ah, it must be somewhere around here,” he said dismissively, pointing at the very desk you had been searching for a solid five minutes now. You sent a glare in his direction before spotting a page on the floor near the couch where he had previously been sitting. You sighed, placing your speech back on the desk and skimming through it again.

“I know you’re both going to end up improvising anyway,” Yeosang said, “so why bother now? Stop trying to memorise it.”

“Honestly, you should be the one memorising it right now,” Wooyoung looked at him pointedly. “You always forget what you’re about to say.”

You stifled a snort at that, going towards your maid who sat helplessly with the jacket. You took it from her and patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, you’ve done enough.”

“I don’t want to be his maid when he becomes the King,” she pouted. “I want to continue working for you. I bet he’s not as good at chess as you are.”

“Oh, he’s better,” you laughed, glancing at the tall man now biting his nails while he stared at the fire. “Can you get Lord Choi? He must be in the Great Hall worrying just like him. And then you can get ready too. Remember to bring the flowers, okay?”

The maid got up, glad to be relieved of her duties and you joined Lord Jeong by the fireplace. “We still have some time before the coronation begins, so why don’t you sit down and relax a bit?”

“I’m still wondering if this is a good decision,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark locks.

“Well…” you took a deep breath. “I’ve been monitoring you for the past three months, Yunho. I’d say you’re pretty good at what you do. If I had any doubts about you before… they’re gone now.”

“Really?” He asked, a smile growing on his lips as he looked at you.

“Really,” you nodded, smiling back. You knew that Jeong Yunho may be good at what he did but he needed affirmation, especially from you. He was hell bent on the idea that you could keep being the Queen of Eden and he could be your royal advisor or something instead, but you made him switch the roles. You did not wish to be the Queen anymore- it wasn’t your place to be, though no one around you opposed the idea when he first presented it. So whenever you told Yunho that he made a great king, he took your word seriously. “It’s a big day today. Get some rest, please. We don’t want you fumbling in the Great Hall in front of hundreds of people, okay?”

“Geez, thanks,” Yunho shook his head, letting you help him with his jacket. You straightened the collars and patted his shoulder, glancing at your right to see San leaning against the wall and watching you two with a smile.

“Is she bothering you, Yunho? Should I see her out?”

“I’d rather you see him out,” he pointed at Wooyoung who was eating peanuts, throwing the shells at a very annoyed Yeosang who was throwing them back.

“Kids, both of them,” you laughed. Sometimes, you wondered why you ever thought they were serious individuals. Perhaps, now that you were close and comfortable enough with each other to skip the titles, you saw them in a new light now.

Except now you used your titles to mock each other.

“Rich coming from you, Princess,” Wooyoung said. “I saw you trying to blow the seeds of the oranges and make them land in the bin. Must say, I’m impressed with your aim.”

You may have been ashamed some other day, but not now. “That’s what years of practice does. My aim is better than yours though- you really can’t land one shell on Yeosang.”

“Yes,” Yeosang agreed. “I’m better. Watch-”

He flicked a shell that landed straight in the middle of Wooyoung’s head where he parted his hair, making him shut his eyes in annoyance as everyone laughed. San nudged your hand and you looked at him- he pointed towards the room. You were still living here even after getting divorced because Yunho insisted that you stay at least until the coronation and help him prepare in the meanwhile. You let San take you there and he squeezed your hand after shutting the door.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like the weight on my shoulder is getting lighter,” you laughed. “They all still treat me like I’m the Queen. Yeosang still calls me ‘Your Majesty’. I can’t wait until they start calling Yunho ‘Your Highness’.”

San laughed at that, kissing your temple. “Well, you’ll always be our queen. In our hearts.”

“Wait till the future queen hears about this,” you scoffed. “What about you? I bet you didn’t think you’d watch two coronations happen at this age.”

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” San pulled out a letter from the pocket of his jacket. “The King- I should really stop calling him that, but he sent a letter. You should give it a read.”

“Oh?” You took the letter, wondering what its contents were. San made you sit down, assuring you that it was okay. You opened the letter and gave it a read.

My old friend San,

I hope you’re doing well. The weather here is nice, and I miss my parents. I think it is why I always avoided coming here, because this is where they were happy, and this is where I would miss them. Maybe I should have come here before I lost my path. I found my father’s journals and I’ve been reading them. After all the reading I’ve done in the past three months, I have realised that I have failed my parents, and y/n… she has made them proud by saving the kingdom that my parents worked so hard to protect. The kingdom my grandparents fought for, so we could live freely. If my mother was alive today, she would have liked y/n very much. If my father was alive today, he might have given her a position in his own court. I wronged her, I always knew that. I don’t know where the violence came from- my parents did not raise me like this. I understand that you are ashamed of me, like so many others, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day. I hope she can forgive me one day too. I heard she won’t take the crown. I wish she would have, but if she insists cousin Jeong is a good choice… then I’ll agree with her. In my room, in my desk there is a secret compartment, the key to which I kept hidden in the bookshelf in y/n’s office between my favourite books- she will know which ones. You will find the tie that I wore to the coronation, that my ancestors wore, that I would like cousin Jeong to wear now. It is blue like the colour of Eden.

I think I like it here. I might spend longer than my sentence of ten years. I would like it very much if you could visit me one day. Take care of yourself, and… take care of her. I know you will.

“Wow,” you breathed, turning the letter but finding it ending abruptly just like that with his signature in the bottom. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” San took your hand in his, caressing it. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s just that… I understand, I really do. But he sounds the same,” you looked at San. “He had his good days, and he sounded like this. I don’t know if he was having a good day or if he’s actually remorseful.”

“I don’t know either, but…” San cocked his head in thought. “If he’s actually feeling remorseful, this is a good first step.”

You nodded, staring at the letter. San gently took it away and tucked it back in his pocket, locking his eyes with yours and making sure you were okay before gently kissing you. You kissed him back, glad he was here with you right now. He drew back and smiled.

“Shall we go and crown the new king then? You and I, his Right Hand and Royal Advisor? You still have time if you want to change your position.”

“Nah, I’m good,” you looked around. “As much as I hated this room, this place… I have grown to love it. I don’t want to go back home and be a princess. I want to stay here with you, with everyone. Here, I’m just the King’s royal advisor. And the King won’t care if I’m Utopian.”

“You know, maybe he does,” Wooyoung butted in, entering the room without permission and you stifled the urge to roll your eyes. “He’s from Wonderland, he must hate you. Oh! Or better yet, the two of you might be planning to overthrow him, right? Come on, you can count me in-”

Yunho bumped his shoulder purposely with Wooyoung, making him almost fall on his face and you snorted. “Does my hair look better like this, or-” he parted his hair to the side messily. “Like this?”

You heard the sound of Yeosang laughing to himself and Wooyoung watched Yunho in disbelief. “Nah. He’s not fit to be the king. Princess… please continue to be the queen, please, Your Majesty-”

“Shut up, Wooyoung,” San warned, trying his best to not burst out laughing. You patted his shoulder, getting up and ignoring everyone, going to your office and scanning through the books until you found the astronomy one, wedged between politics and philosophy. You wedged your hand between astronomy and philosophy and felt the cold metal. Satisfied, you got the key out and exited the room to go to the King’s office, unlocking the compartment and finding the blue tie with the King’s wedding band that he had left behind. The one he never wore except on occasions. As if he wanted no physical evidence that he was bound to you.

You took the tie and went back to your room, finding all three of them styling a flustered Yunho’s hair. A knock sounded and your maid entered, saying that it was time for you all to enter the Hall. You shooed the boys away and helped Yunho with the tie, telling him its history and approving his hair. Yeosang and Wooyoung started to push Yunho out of the room and you looked in the mirror- no signs of distress or sadness on your face for once.

San stood behind you, admiring your flowing blue gown in the mirror, and without warning, pulled the hairpin out of your hair, letting half the curls fall down with your front pinned back. You gasped, “It took the maid 2 hours, Choi San!”

“I like your hair better this way,” he muttered in a low voice laced with innuendo. “I like your hair messy.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, pushing him away with a grin and touching your lipstick again. “Don’t kiss me for the rest of the night.”

“And when the night is over?”

“Then, and only then,” you turned to him, running your finger down his chest. “You can ruin my lipstick then.”

San bowed as if it was an order and arm in arm, you exited your chamber, ready to remove your title of ‘queen’ once and for all. You didn’t need it anymore. You were only a princess now, and your knight was the only person you would ever need.

#choi san x reader #san x reader #san smut #choi san smut #choi san angst #san angst #choi san fluff #san fluff #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez au #choi san

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undercoverpena · 4 months

Text

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Gray?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Gives hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 month

Text

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t how things should be.

your living room is dimly lit, illuminated only by the tv in front of you, and the moon is glowing a pearlescent blue. flimsy strings of moonlight spill over your floorboards, reflecting off the windows, and whatever you’re doing isn’t what you should be doing. you shouldn’t be awake this late, shouldn’t be gorging on sweets before bed, shouldn’t be having a rendezvous with an enemy — shouldn’t be watching movies with your ex of ten years.

most of all, you shouldn’t be feeling nearly this content.

getō is seated right beside you, legs comfortably spread, popping a macaron into his mouth. chewing it slowly, savouring the flavour. or lack thereof, you suppose — he’s digested far too many curses for his taste buds to remain intact.

or so he says, anyhow.

this time, he brought pastries with him; expensive ones, you can tell, just from the package alone. a soft pastel pink box, wrapped up in silk, golden letters etched into the front. mont blancs, macarons, two slices of strawberry shortcake. carefully picked, suited to your tastes.

(you aren’t actually too fond of sweets, anymore, but how is he to know? he hasn’t seen you in years.)

”would you like me to make us some tea?”

when you turn your gaze towards him, getō’s wearing a smile. laid-back, the slightest upward curl, tilting his head in a manner you’re far too used to. eyes shining with something keen.

somehow, it feels difficult to tear your gaze away from his.

but you manage, turning forward, grasping control over your sleepy vocal cords. ”no, i’m good.”

a low hum. he’s still looking at you.

”coffee?”

”the sweets are more than enough.”

this time, a smile — one you can’t see but still somehow sense. a little bit amused. getō gazes at you with a knowing look, watches you glance at the box of pastries on your coffee table; studying you under the monochrome flicker of the tv-screen.

”understood,” he finally quips, leaning back into the leather couch. exhaling a little breath. ”eat as much as you’d like. i bought them for you, you know.”

you nod, nibbling at a macaron. not glancing his way.

being alone with him still feels a little awkward. a little tense — to be curled up on the same couch, watching the same movie, just like your old sleepovers in high school. there’s an elephant in the room that neither of you have addressed — not since he first showed up, just a couple weeks ago, waltzing up to your apartment with a plastic bag of dvds after a decade of estrangement. wearing heavy robes, and a familiar smile. asking to be let in.

and despite every single circumstance telling you not to, you did just that. you’ve yet to refuse.

(satoru would hate you, if he knew.)

so he’s there, right beside you, and you don’t talk about it. not his choice, not your work, not anything except the movie playing on the screen in front of you. this time, it’s one he’s seen before. beautiful, he called it, and for once you think it might be a romance — if the kiss between the main actors is anything to go by.

you wonder if that’s why he says it.

”say, do you hate me?”

you still. freezing in place, for a moment, discontent but not surprised. he’s always been like this; breaking any illusion of peace before you can find solace in it.

you bite back a groan, and shoot him a glance out of the corner of your eye — but he isn’t looking at you. only at the tv, at the two men, holding hands and standing on a bridge in the rain, watching the stars twinkle in the sky. and you sigh, turning your head to look at him fully, parting your lips. your voice comes out frustrated.

”do you really want to have this conversation now?”

”when else?” he chuckles, meeting your gaze with one brow raised. amber eyes gleaming with mirth, and something else, something less practiced. ”you don’t have to answer. i’m just curious.”

you gulp down the last of the macaron, licking your lips for any leftover crumbs — unaware of how his eyes follow the movement. ”are you?”

a hum buzzes in the back of his throat, a tiny rasp. you wonder if he’s tired. ”i hadn’t expected this, you know.” he taps at his knee with the pads of his fingers, rhythmic and controlled. ”i thought it was just wishful thinking… that you’d let me come this close.”

you feel his gaze on you. it’s heavy, heavy like lead, like a loaded gun. you feel it dissect you from afar, and can’t find it in you to reach for another pastry.

”… would you have preferred being kicked out?”

”not at all.” a little grin plays at his lips, something in his voice betraying the face he’s making. ”are you avoiding the question?”

another sigh. you’re painfully aware of how resigned it sounds, spilling out into the open air, already filling with a sense of dread — any leftover nostalgia bursting at the seams. you want to tell him so many things, but every thread inside your mind feels all tangled up.

and, as always, getō beats you to the punch.

”that’s fine, too.” a brief pause, a twitch of his pinkie. he closes his eyes and inhales a breath. ”because i’ll keep waiting.”

for a second, you consider not taking the bait.

then you’re giving in. because that’s what you always do, whenever he’s involved. you watch him in the dark, pale skin enveloped by moonlight, raven hair spilling across the headrest. he looks beautiful, like this, just resting his eyes.

”… for what?” you whisper, and his answer comes without a hitch to his breath.

”for you to love me again.”

…

getō tilts his head, opening his eyes, a golden brown dragging you into their depths. he looks expectant, selfishly awaiting a response, and you’re tired.

(unbeknownst to you, he resists the urge to intertwine your fingers, to trace every ridge and dip of your knuckles with his thumb. to squeeze your palm like a promise, something concrete.)

when your mind has managed to untangle itself, something in your gaze turns sharp. frustrated, impatient, disappointed, looking at him with a raised brow. ”you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

as fast as it came, your gaze returns to the screen in front of you. monochrome, flickering, two beautiful men. one of them is holding a gun to the other’s temple, and the victim looks appeased. the movie’s almost over.

(how very like him, to find such violence beautiful.)

quietly, you swallow down the bile building up in the back of your throat. a decade of bitter flavours. clenching your teeth, nails digging into the couch beneath you, leather on your cold fingertips. it’s a little peeled.

you wonder why you even bother being honest, when he never quite seems to return the favour.

but the room is dimly lit, and the moon is big and bright, and your ex of ten years is sitting right next to you. in your apartment, on your couch, watching a movie on your tv. when he could, should be anywhere else. he’s with you, and he pulls the words out of your throat without trying. puppeteering your heartbeat.

”… as if i ever stopped.”

silence.

you hear a gunshot ring out. low, muffled, a crackle of static. one of the men falls down to the ground, and you can’t tell who's who. the actors are forgettable, but the soundtrack is pretty. it rings in your ears like a lullaby.

getō says your name.

it sounds the same as you remember. honeyed syllables, spilling from his parted lips, silky and sweet. he says your name like he’s asking to marry you, and you can hear the smile he’s struggling to repress.

”will you look at me?”

it’s less of a question, and more of a demand. you wonder why he even bothers asking — but you’ve never really understood the way his brain works. never understood why a burglar would bother asking the shopkeeper for permission before reaching for the register, when they’ll be leaving with the money either way.

and you’re paralyzed, stuck in place on the couch, gaze glued to the screen in front of you. but you aren’t watching, not really, just looking. and you don’t want to see what kind of face he’s making. so you whisper;

”.. no.”

”no?” he mimics, something like a coo on the tip of his tongue. as always, you can feel his gaze, travelling down your face like a trickle of honey. ”and why is that, my dear?”

you bite down on your lip.

a long, long moment passes, and neither of you say a word. he’s looking at you, and you’re looking down at your lap, at your clenched fists. a little meek. it’s quiet, the calm before the storm, and you know exactly what’s going to happen — it’s already set in stone.

”because you’re going to kiss me,” you exhale, finally, resignation on your breath. ”and i’m going to let you.”

…

for a second, you wonder if his silence means he understands. if he can hear the desperate plea in your voice, if he can translate it correctly.

but his fingertips graze the lines of your jaw, his palm sneaks under your chin, and he keeps you in place. turning your head to meet his gaze, his amber eyes, dripping with something hungry; something pleading.

this time, he doesn’t ask for permission. he leans forward until there’s no space between you, tips your head back, and kisses you with bated breath — as softly as he can manage, which is still too intense for your liking. still brimming with desperation, something carnal, like he wants to pour his everything into the kiss but knows he shouldn’t. he tastes like tobacco.

and it’s over.

you know it is, because your senses are flooded with him, him, him. nothing but him, the strands of his raven hair ghosting your skin, his greedy tongue licking along your teeth, large palms resting on your spine and the back of your head. you’re pliant, surrendering yourself to his touch. he’s cradling you like he loves you, and you feel like you’ve done something awful, because you have.

because you’ve let him come so close, again, invited him inside — inside of your home, your ribcage. and he won’t bother making a home for himself there, because it’s already waiting for him, untouched, between your fourth and fifth ribs.

you never bothered to get rid of it.

(that’s your sin.)

getō hums, muffled by your lips. he sounds pleased. he sounds like he’s been waiting for this for decades, and you suppose that he has. he murmurs praise that you do nothing but swallow down.

everything feels too perfect, too normal, and it’s too much, too much, too much. your lips pressed together, your chests pressed together, your noses meeting in a tender touch. you choke down the noise that threatens to push past your lips, and he kisses you like a starved man. like he’s trying to drown in you.

he only pulls away once he realizes that you’re crying, and by then it’s too late. his widening eyes don’t matter, your cold hands don’t matter, the tremble of your erratic heartbeat has never mattered less. he looks at you with remorse, and it doesn’t matter.

(he’s yours, again, and you’re his.

you can’t stop crying.)

”… i’m sorry.”

in the background, you hear the sound of gentle whispers, an ending scene. the men are talking to each other, speaking softly, and your eyes burn with tears. geto catches one of them with his forefinger, and leans forward to plant a kiss against your nose. chaste, this time. still mumbling apologies.

it doesn’t matter, because a tiny sob still breaks past your throat — and you know the sound must hurt him.

you hate that. you hate that you always hurt him, hate that you care, hate that you feel nothing but guilt when he’s around. you hate the movie still playing to your left, hate that he doesn’t hate it, hate that he loves you. hate that you love him, that you probably always will.

you hate that you blink up at him with glassy eyes, swallow down a shaky breath, and kiss him again. hate that it’s still the only thing you know how to do well.

he doesn’t pull away, only biting back a noise of surprise — but he makes sure to kiss you gently, as if you’re made of porcelain, slow and tender, cradling you closer still. he wipes away your tears with his thumb, one after another, and you hate yourself because everything feels so deliriously right.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that what you’re playing is a losing game.

(he’s yours, and you’re his. it’s already set in stone.)

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ivymarquis · 17 days

Text

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave.

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him.

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back.

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification.

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy.

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it.

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face.

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access.

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further.

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it.

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly.

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to.

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air.

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate.

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities.

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely.

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake.

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John.

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan.

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her.

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.”

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally- and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control.

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her.

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it.

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?”

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#captain john price #John Price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #dub con #dark!fic #<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise #my writing

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