#*Whispers* It's the classism

[brionysea]

bruce's problem is he thinks jason is inherently dangerous when he's inherently good and he thinks tim is inherently good when he's inherently dangerous. all that "bruce mistaking tim for jason post-jason's death" was trying to tell us something. he's got his kids backwards

[bitchymanlet]

We’re always getting into arguments about racism, sexism, ableism and queerphobia in fandom, but I really really wish more fans would discuss how rampant, unquestioned, and unchallenged the classism is.

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[cherienymphe]

White Lines & White Knights

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, pr*stitution, power imbalance, classism, mentions of death, jealousy, humiliation, revenge p*rn, drug dealer!Rafe, drug use, Pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You and Rafe are using each other until you decide that's not what you want anymore, and the spoiled rich kid will do whatever it takes to have his expensive toy back in his bed.

⭑

Your door shut behind you with a resounding click, and once in the comfort of your home, you took the time to decompress. You took advantage of your much needed reprieve, the back of your head grazing the wood as you allowed your eyes to fall closed. Your heart was still beating wildly in your chest, and you wondered if a day would come where it ever wouldn’t. After all, this wasn’t exactly “new” anymore…

It had been five months since you buried your mom, five months since you discovered the mountain of debt she’d done an impressive job of hiding from you, and five months since you thought you’d be homeless on the street in less than one. In two weeks, you’d dealt with a loss you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another forty years or so and took on the kind of responsibility you didn’t think you’d have to for at least another three.

Your mom died 152 days ago…

…and you’d started fucking Rafe Cameron less than a month later.

You liked to pretend to not know why you slept with Kildare’s prime rich boy that fateful Saturday night, but you were far more self aware than you wanted to be. Even if you weren’t, it wasn’t exactly some mysterious string of decisions that lead to being tangled up in the sheets with Sarah’s asshole of an older brother. You didn’t need to pay someone to diagnose you.

You were grieving.

It was really just that simple, and the monetary stress on top of that drove you to find comfort in strange drinks and hard drugs. To this day you still didn’t know if Rafe just happened to be at the right place at the right time or if he heard whispers about John B.’s best friend snorting pills and getting shit faced when her usual crowd was looking the other way, but either way, the stuffy Kook clearly saw an opportunity to kill several birds with one stone.

“First two lines are free,” he’d told you that night, the bass of the music downstairs muffled by the expensive walls of some girl’s house.

You remembered how you’d chuckled, drunkenly shaking your head.

“Well, two lines is all I’m doing, I guess,” you’d murmured, throwing your hands up.

Rafe’s smirk had been cruel, a mocking glint in his blue eyes.

“What?” he’d dragged out, head tilted. “Spent all that life insurance money, already?”

Any other time and Rafe’s insensitivity might’ve upset you, but at the time you’d been drunk out of your mind and looking for more ways to forget the sudden absence in your life.

“I can’t imagine why Sarah hates you,” you’d sarcastically replied, approaching the impressive desk and leaning over to inhale a line.

You wiped your nose as you straightened, lashes fluttering as you ignored the feeling of Rafe’s gaze on you.

“I’ll be lucky if I even have a house to live in next week.”

The words had come out slurred, accompanied by a light chuckle, and deep down you’d felt the flutter of stress that you’d been desperately ignoring for weeks. You’d quickly snorted the other line, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Turns out my mom was skilled at hiding more than just illnesses…”

You remembered the silence—from both you and Rafe—and how in that moment you’d allowed yourself a solid four seconds of lingering on the reality of your predicament. In those four seconds, your eyes had watered and your lips had trembled and your throat had tightened, and after those four seconds, you were turning to Rafe with a haughty smile.

“Guess you won’t be finding a new client in me, huh?” you’d wondered with a shrug, finding a seat on the desk.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been unreadable as he eyed you, sitting in the chair at the desk, legs spread as he ran his eyes over you—slowly and in a way you didn’t hate at the time. You hadn’t been able to tell what he was thinking, although looking back, you wondered how it wasn’t so obvious to you then. Maybe because it was just too cruel of a thought, and while it was no secret Rafe was a spoiled asshole, you had never once thought of him as cruel.

Rafe had merely shrugged.

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea,” he’d slowly said, the corner of his pink lips curving upwards just a tad. “Besides…”

You’d watched him stand, rounding the desk to come and tower over you where you sat.

“I like to think of myself as a pretty ethical kind of guy…”

You’d started to snort at that before his gaze met yours again, and you found yourself swallowing whatever you were about to say. You hadn’t done a thing when Rafe reached up to touch your arm, the feel of his finger so light. You hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the way your heart skipped a beat at both his close proximity and the change in atmosphere. You hadn’t been able to ignore—however—the heat that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“...and I’ve been known to meet people halfway. Accept whatever they can offer…”

You remembered your internal conflict that night.

You’d been drunk and high and sad…not stupid. You knew exactly what Rafe was insinuating to you, and you’d struggled with the idea of really sleeping with Rafe Cameron for more drugs. The man was far from unattractive, sure that if drugs weren’t involved you’d still consider sleeping with him. If you’d believed in any of that, you’d imagine that your mom was turning over in her grave. At the time though, you hadn’t been quite sure as to what you believed in, so when he took your silence for consent, leaning in and touching your nose with his…

You hadn’t stopped him when he closed the distance.

You hadn’t even known whose house you were at, only internally apologizing to them for having sex on their expensive desk. You didn’t know if it was the drugs or the alcohol or simply Rafe Cameron, but it was easily the best sex you’d ever had in your life, and at one point you’d really considered how much better it could possibly be to fuck him without the condom.

You had no idea that you’d eventually find out.

Once dressed, you’d walked home with a small bag of pills and a satisfied grin. You knew that your friends would host some kind of intervention if they ever found out, but all you’d been able to focus on was the simple fact that fucking Rafe Cameron for a little coke and pills wasn’t sounding like the worst idea. Of course, if you’d known that you’d eventually start fucking him for your livelihood, you might’ve made different choices that night.

You pressed your hand to your face and pushed away from the door, eager to start the shower and scrub the stench of him off of you. Per routine, you took the money out of your pocket before getting undressed, eyeing the wad of one hundreds that now sat on your nightstand. Two grand was nothing to someone like him, but to someone like you, it made all the difference in the world.

…and Rafe knew that.

He’d known that when he handed you a thousand dollars one night, the coke in your system just starting to hit. You’d looked up at him from where you sat in confusion, hesitantly wrapping your hand around the money as you alternated between eyeing it and eyeing him. You hadn’t known how to feel about it, especially since it had only been moments ago when he was inside of you…and there he was handing you a grand in hundreds.

“Don’t look like that,” Rafe had chuckled, walking to his dresser in search of a shirt. “You know you need the money.”

He wasn’t wrong…and that was the problem.

Unless you hit a lucky streak in life, you’d always need the money, and that was exactly why you were in the predicament you were in—four months later and putting up with the monster that was Rafe Cameron just to keep a roof over your head. The thought brought tears to your eyes, positive now that your mom could see you and was beyond disappointed in you. 

Her disappointment could only be outdone by your own.

You were in a situation that you couldn’t get out of, on the verge of ending this arrangement so many times before asking yourself what better way could you pay your mom’s debts and survive? It wasn’t easy money by far, but it was fast money, and it was the kind of money that would take months to make at whatever low paying job you’d find around Outer Banks. Someone like you rarely got hired at the country club or working for some rich snob who wiped their ass with the kind of money you needed.

Rafe knew this too.

Tears kissed your eyes as you scrubbed your skin raw, wishing that you could scrub away the nasty bruise right along with the sweat and grime. You winced every time you touched it, cursing the blond and feeling one of those moments where you considered blocking him and moving on from this pathetic era in your life for good.

Fucking Rafe Cameron for drugs didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time, fucking him for money seemed like an even better one…until that entitled attitude started to extend to the woman he was paying good money to have access to. You remembered the first time you opposed something he wanted to do, the way in which he ignored you, the way he merely pressed your face into the pillow to shut you up.

It was the first time you felt truly icky about this whole situation.

Not even just icky.

…but afraid.

“I don’t pay you to tell me what you will and won’t do in bed,” he’d chuckled at you like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

You’d still been trembling and wiping mascara from your cheeks.

“I pay you because I want to fuck you,” he’d slowly whispered to you, leaning in. “...and you let me because you don’t want to be sleeping on the beach.”

He’d held your gaze for what felt like too long, impressing upon you the true dynamic of this arrangement, and you remembered the unease that had festered in your gut that day. Maybe all the drugs and alcohol hadn’t allowed you to fully look at this arrangement for what it was and the power imbalance here, but you had for the first time that day, and you hadn’t liked it.

You liked it even less now, wrapping the towel around you and wondering how you were ever going to get out of this predicament you’d put yourself into.

“My family’s going out of town for the weekend,” the familiar blond mumbled to you as he inhaled a familiar powdery substance off the back of his hand. “Pack a bag when you get home, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at that, huffing instead.

“I can’t spend the whole weekend on Figure 8,” you told him. “I have plans.”

Rafe nodded, and you hated the smile that danced across his lips.

“Okay, uh, be ready at 8, I don’t want-.”

“Rafe, I’m serious,” you cut him off, shrugging. “I can’t stay at your house all weekend.”

You watched him watch you, slowly swiping his tongue between his lips as a frown started to take over. His dirty blond hair kissed his brows, and the longer the silence stretched, the more nervous you grew. You watched as Rafe glanced away, seemingly deep in thought before those baby blues of his rested on you, much colder than they were a few seconds ago.

“What the hell am I paying you for?” he whispered.

The question was rhetorical, and you swallowed.

“Rafe…I’ve barely seen my friends in months. I finally made plans to meet up with them for more than five minutes and-.”

“...and whose fault is that?” he shrugged.

You frowned at him.

“Nobody told you to go off on a bender when your mom kicked the bucket…” you blinked at his callousness. “Maybe you should’ve been finding comfort in your friends instead of drugs and vodka…and me.”

He finished his sentence with a soft—and yet cruel—smile.

“I pay you good money—great money even!—to be available when I want you to be, and unless you’ve found some other rich asshole to open your legs for, which I doubt…be ready tomorrow at 8.”

He was standing, now, looking down at you where you sat on the bed. The harsh reminder of your roles here had you looking away, and Rafe turned away when he rightfully took your silence as confirmation. You stared at the wall for a few moments before turning to stare at his back, thinking to yourself that this couldn’t go on much longer. Whether it took 1 or 5 jobs, you couldn’t keep relying on Rafe Cameron forever.

What was once a weekly occurrence had turned into something entirely other, and it hadn’t bothered you so much when your mother’s death was still so fresh and you were seeking solace in the worst coping mechanisms known to man—including isolation. Now, however, you were waking up to the choices you’d made and you hated the feeling of being inebriated and being surrounded by people you barely knew.

You hated being away from your friends.

“I didn’t even know you’d gotten a job,�� John B. said to you hours later, looking disappointed but understanding. “JJ’s gonna be real disappointed. He’s been talking all week about having you try some new weed he got.”

You gave a light laugh at that, a pang in your chest at how much you missed doing stupid shit with them.

“Yeah,” you sadly said. “The world—and bills—doesn’t stop just because my mom died.”

The brunette grew quiet at that, worriedly eyeing you now.

“You doing okay…?”

You sighed at that, looking out over the yard of The Chateau, fiddling with your fingers as you thought of a certain blond.

“I’ve been better, but…I’ve been worse too.”

Your answer was honest, and you briefly wondered what John B. would think if he knew just how bad ‘worse’ had been. You didn’t think any of them would hate you if they knew the full extent of just how far you’d fallen, but you knew they’d have a hard time wrapping their head around it. The drugs and alcohol were one thing, but Rafe Cameron was entirely another. The man was the worst example of a Kook if there was one, representing every bad trait attributed to them.

Your friends would not understand you essentially sacrificing your self respect for money and drugs.

Sometimes you didn’t understand it either. 

Most especially when Rafe had his hands around your neck.

He picked you up at 8 on the dot Friday night—a man of his word if nothing else—and less than a hour later you were bent over his father’s desk as he pounded into you. Your head was hanging off of it, fighting hard to not scrape your nails against the dark mahogany. It wasn’t the first time Rafe fucked you on Ward’s desk, and you doubted that it would be the last time. There’d even been a few rare occasions when he fucked you in the older man’s bed, and you didn’t know what complex the blond had that fueled these decisions, but you weren’t a psychologist so you figured it wasn’t anything to concern yourself with.

Despite the tight grip on your throat, a choked moan managed to escape every time Rafe pushed his cock into you. Sweat made his skin glisten, and you were sure you fared no better. His hair wasn’t so neat, now, and you had the stray thought that you preferred it that way. Rafe being so far from ugly definitely made this arrangement easier to swallow down at times, but other times it just made you angry.

How was it fair that someone seemingly had everything, including the big dick to match?

Rafe walked around like he was God’s gift to the world, possessing one of the most rotten personalities you’d ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, and he seemed to be rewarded with it with everything the average person could only dream about. As if any of that wasn’t enough, you practically rewarded him with even more by essentially telling him he could do whatever he wanted so long as the price was right.

It made you disgusted with yourself at times.

When he pressed a hand to your stomach, hips slowing to a pace that made your breath hitch, you squeezed your eyes shut. In the quiet office, the sound of his cock disappearing between your folds was loud, the wet noise telling you that there’d no doubt be a mess left on Ward’s desk when this was all said and done. You heard Rafe curse, and you didn’t have the energy to lift your head from where it hung off the desk.

“...and to think,” he panted from above you. “You were going to pass this up to sit around with those dirty Pogues.”

At this, you did attempt to sit up, a hand against his chest and one on the desk as he thrusted into you.

“Those ‘dirty Pogues’ are my friends,” you forced out, lashes fluttering. “...and clearly you forget that I’m one too.”

Rafe merely chuckled at that, perfect teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“Yeah, but you’re my dirty Pogue so it’s a little different.”

His words had your frown deepening, disgust filling your chest at the way he talked about you while literally fucking you. Completely turned off, you turned your head away, attempting to separate yourself from him. That haughty laugh reached your ears, and to your dismay, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“What…?” he lazily drawled. “You don’t like the sound of that?”

“You’re being an asshole, get off of me…”

He jerked his hips against you, making you gasp, and you squirmed in his arms as you fought to get away. Rafe leaned in to harshly nip his teeth at your cheek, his movements growing rough, causing the desk to shake.

“I’ve spent too much money on you to not say whatever the hell I want,” he evenly said. “So, yeah, at this point, I’ll confidently say I practically own you.”

Tears kissed your eyes at the disgusting words, and fed up with your resistance, Rafe merely placed a hand between your breasts before harshly shoving you back down. You winced at the action, but you had no time to fully linger on it as Rafe started to roughly plunge his cock into you, the sound of his skin slapping against yours reaching your ears. He wouldn’t allow you to sit up, both of his hands wrapped around your wrists now as he leaned over you.

This felt too reminiscent of the time he’d pressed your face into the bed, telling you to relax as he pressed the head of his cock just above where your folds were. You recalled the uncomfortable feeling and the tears that stained the pillow as he slowly fucked you in a place no one ever had before. The deja vu of it all had your mind wandering, eyes defocusing as you just waited for it to be over. It seemed like Rafe’s grunts sounded from above you forever, and when he finally came onto your stomach with a low moan, you didn’t move for some time.

You were slow to sit up as he got dressed, trembling as you steaded yourself for what you were about to say.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

The words came out whispered, but in the quiet study, you might as well have yelled them. Rafe didn’t acknowledge you, and you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Frustrated with his refusal to take you seriously, you hopped off of Ward’s desk, angrily grabbing your clothes.

“I’m serious, Rafe. After this weekend…this is done,” you continued, voice firmer, now. “Don’t call me or text me or worry about any more money. I can’t rely on you forever anyway.”

By now, Rafe was actually listening to you, and you avoided his gaze as you got dressed. His silence was loud, and when you were finally decent again, only then did you lift your gaze to glance at him. His visage was unreadable, and after some time, he merely blinked at you.

“If I remember correctly, per your own words, your mom had enough debt ‘to file for bankruptcy’.”

His words made you sharply inhale, and you bit your tongue as he ran his hands through his hair in a poor attempt to tame the damp locks.

“Don’t ruin your life just because you’re pissed at me,” he coldly added.

You crossed your arms over your chest, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Personal feelings aside, I can’t rely on you forever, Rafe. That’s just the truth. I have to figure something out eventually, and there’s no time like the present,” your voice shook as he fixed you with an unnerving stare. “I miss my friends, and I don’t want to be the sad, damaged girl running to Rafe Cameron just so I don’t feel anything anymore.”

The blond followed your lead, folding his arms over his own chest as he leaned against the wall, staring you down with that annoying crooked smile.

“...and where exactly do you plan to find a job that pays you what I do?”

“There are jobs, Rafe. I’ll find one.”

You didn’t appreciate his tone nor the look he was giving you as he studied you. He was looking down on you, and yes while that wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence, this time was different. He was looking down his nose like he didn’t believe in you, like he expected you to be crawling back to him in no time, begging him to fuck you again.

After a few moments, that crooked smile curved even more, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.

“Well, I wish you luck…”

His voice didn’t match the words that came out of his mouth, and his gaze most certainly didn’t.

“I literally called this morning and was told over the phone that you all were hiring...and now I get here, and I’m being told you’re not…?”

You tried to keep the skepticism out of your tone, but your frustration at your predicament was bubbling up and threatening to be unleashed on the lone man before you. The inside of the country club was practically empty—a slow Tuesday—and you briefly glanced around at the two staffers in the whole room. Sure, you could write it off to a slow day that didn’t need a full staff, but something in you told you that it was more than that.

You didn’t believe the man in front of you.

“Look, I don’t know what else to tell you, miss. Whoever you talked to got it wrong. I’m sorry for the miscommunication on our end,” was his only explanation.

You didn’t dare bother to point out that both he and whoever you’d spoken with on the phone sounded damn near identical.

When it became obvious that this conversation was over, you turned away with a small huff, breezing outside to a familiar dark car. Kie was standing by it, arms uncomfortably crossed over her chest, glaringly obvious that she’d rather be anywhere but here despite being from ‘here’.

“Well…?” she wondered as you got closer.

“They’re not hiring,” you mumbled as you slid into the passenger seat.

She joined you inside the vehicle a moment later, a frown on her face.

“...but you called.”

“I know.”

There was a beat of silence before she scoffed, reaching for her door handle.

“If this is because you aren’t some rich snob looking for play money…”

She trailed off when you spoke up.

“No, I don’t…I don’t think it’s that,” you stopped her. “Let’s just go.”

She eyed you for a few moments, frown deepening.

“Are you sure? Y/N, this is like the fourth place you’ve been to today,” she pointed out. “...and I don’t want to add my stress to your stress, but it’s kind of fucked up.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that it wasn’t possible for you to be any more stressed than you already were, simply signaling for her to drive. You could feel her eyes periodically landing on you as she did, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering why the universe had it out for you.

It had been weeks since you’d last seen or talked to Rafe, weeks since you ended your little arrangement, and weeks since you’d had a consistent source of income. It wasn’t a pretty nor respectable way to make money, but you’d been making money nonetheless. However, you couldn’t find it in you to continue sacrificing your self respect to keep sleeping with Rafe Cameron. You’d also been telling the truth when you told him you didn’t want to be this messed up sad thing anymore.

You had long let go of the drugs and cut back on the drinking, and now you’d dropped Rafe too.

You’d had hope…but now it was dwindling.

No one would hire you. In fact, no one had even allowed you far enough to officially apply just to get a foot into an interview. It was always the same. You’d call ahead so you didn’t waste your time, they’d tell you they were looking for people, and then the moment you actually showed up and introduced yourself, it was an entirely different story. It didn’t make any sense to you, and the thought of ever proving Rafe right made you want to be sick.

“How bad is it?” JJ asked you a few days later, the both of you away and isolated in some corner of some guy’s party.

You looked down at the weak drink in your hand, contemplating on whether or not to be honest.

“It’s…manageable.”

A whopper of a lie.

“...then why don’t I believe you? Come on, Y/N, it’s me. I know your mom wasn’t the best when it came to funds, and when she died…” he scoffed. “You weren’t exactly in any shape to march down to anyone’s job and fight for work just to keep things afloat.”

You looked away at that, throat tight.

“I’m honestly shocked you’ve kept it up for this long.”

If only he knew…

You felt his gaze on you as you wondered just how truthful you should be, but you reminded yourself that this was JJ. If he knew the full extent of everything, he’d be likely to rob a bank. Nevermind the fact that it would just make him ask more questions, like how you’d even managed to keep things afloat all this time. You didn’t think you could lie to him, and you didn’t think you could handle being on the receiving end of whatever look JJ would undoubtedly give you if you told him you’d been sleeping with Rafe to pay your bills.

You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that the subject of your thoughts walked through the doors to prevent this conversation from continuing. His presence shouldn’t have shocked you—the party was pretty mixed with people from all sides of the island after all—but it still gave you pause, and JJ noticed.

“This asshole,” you heard the blond murmur, rolling his eyes.

You were inclined to agree, and you shrunk in on yourself with your drink, unable to ignore the knowledge that Rafe was at the same party you were at. In the weeks you’d been free of him, you’d had time to really ponder on your dalliance, and while you’d long accepted your hand in your own life choices, it was now hard to ignore Rafe’s own opportunistic choices in the situation. Sure, yes, you fucked him for money…

…but what did it say about him that he was perfectly happy to enter an arrangement in which he kept you off of the streets so long as you opened your legs for him?

If he was a good guy he’d just…keep you off the streets.

Like JJ would if you ever told him the truth.

You’d just decided to stop hiding in the bathroom when you came face to face with the man himself, heart skipping a beat at his presence. He was leaning against the wall next to the door, and you had the sneaking suspicion he hadn’t been waiting for his turn.

“How’s the job search going?” was how he greeted you, and you hadn’t been able to keep the ire off of your face.

He softly laughed to himself at that, nodding.

“I figured you’d look a little something like that.”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, and Rafe frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“You were, remember? And then you stopped…and that’s how you found yourself back at square one,” he reminded you.

The music traveled from downstairs into the dimly lit hallway, and you looked away from him just as he heaved a tired sigh.

“Do I need to apologize for calling you and your friends dirty Pogues? Is that what this is about?” he lazily wondered.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, and when you lifted your gaze, Rafe was rolling his eyes. He fixed you with a look, reaching up to touch your hair with a tsk.

“Come on, Y/N. You need me…”

He leaned in.

“We both know it, and you’re never going to find a job in this town.”

“You don’t know that,” you fired back, slapping his hand away as you took a step away from him.

Almost instantaneously, Rafe’s entire expression morphed, and you swallowed at the shadow that passed over his features. His pink lips pressed together, and those blue eyes hardened in a way you’d never been on the receiving end of. You watched his nostrils flare.

“Oh, trust me, I know.”

The combination of his tone and his expression and his words gave you pause, and your brows pulled together as you stared at him. For a moment, the music in the house faded into the background as Kie’s words came to your mind. ‘It’s kind of messed up’, she’d said, and while you hadn’t given that much thought to the statement then…you certainly were now.

“What did you do?” you shakily asked the blond, skin growing cold.

Rafe didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it was a lie anyway.

“I don’t know what you mean,” was all he said, one brow raised.

You felt tears kiss your eyes, and you felt silly for not putting the pieces together earlier. You didn’t know how, but somehow, Rafe had a hand in your lack of employment. It seemed exactly like something he’d do, but the only thing you couldn’t understand was why. Why do it? Just to see you fail? Just to feel like he’d won?

“Look, this little rebellious act…it’s cute and amusing and all…” he shrugged off with a small smile. “...but it’s silly. We both know you’re just going to end up right back under me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you hissed, moving past him.

“Yeah, and you knew that when you let me fuck you for drugs on some guy’s desk,” he threw at you, making you flinch and slow down. 

“I was going through things then, Rafe! I didn’t…” you huffed a sigh, turning to glower at him. “I didn’t care about things I most definitely should have. It’s different now.”

You threw your hands up.

“I’m different, now, and I don’t want to keep sacrificing my dignity and self respect just to keep a roof over my head. I don’t want to sleep with someone who views me and anyone like me as beneath him. It disgusts me, and unlike you, I have no interest in sleeping with people who I claim disgust me.”

You watched Rafe’s lip curl over his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s real respectable and noble and all, but I wonder how noble it’ll feel when you’re being evicted,” he spat at you, moving closer. “You’re not getting a job in this town, that I can promise you, so you keep this up for as long as you want to, but we both know how this ends.”

You leaned away from the finger in your face.

“I fucking own you,” he bit out, roughly grabbing your arm and yanking you close despite your resistance. “You named your price, and I paid it-.”

“For a service! Not a person,” you harshly whispered.

Rafe’s chuckle was cold as he stared you down, perfect teeth winking at you.

“You think you’re the only girl in Outer Banks willing to spread her legs for some money? You think I’d have to pay any of them half of what I paid you?” your stomach dropped at his words. “I’ve been a lot more generous than you realize.”

He roughly let you go, practically shoving you away from him, and you stumbled. He eyed you with an expression filled with promise, and when you turned away to finally find your friends and hopefully leave, you descended the stairs on unsteady legs.

You pushed against Rafe’s arm and chest as he held your chin in a tight grip. The vehicle you were next to hid you both from view, everyone on the beach none the wiser to what was happening in the parking lot. Your feet tripped over one another as he forced you back, trapping you between him and the metal contraption.

“Is that what you came up with? You think that pathetic Pogue is going to pay your bills? Give you a place to stay when that eviction notice is taped to your door?”

“Get…off…of me,” you snarled, finally shoving him away with difficulty.

Your breathing was heavy as you glared at the blond, lips trembling and heart racing at the downright evil glint in his blue eyes. You glanced over his shoulder for any way to get away from him, your frustration growing as he moved closer.

“Color me curious, but is it somehow more dignified to fuck someone like JJ instead of me?”

The jealousy dripping from his every word threw you for a loop, and you weren’t in the right headspace to even linger on how strange that was.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re not like that,” you drunkenly choked out. “I don’t know why you feel like I need to answer to you about my personal choices.”

It had only been thirty minutes ago that you were dancing with your friends. JJ—ever the flirt—had gotten a bit handsy, but it was nothing unusual. He could get handsy with a tree, and you’d merely smiled at the behavior, ignorant to the heated gaze that was hyper focused on you. You hadn’t even realized he’d been following you when you went to get a drink from Hayward’s truck.

“Butt out of my life already. You’ve already done enough,” you hissed at him, moving to get past him when he stopped you.

“We’re not done talking-.”

His words were interrupted by your hand, the sound of the slap echoing in your ears, and he’d just harshly pushed you against the car at your back when a familiar voice interrupted you both.

“Get off of her!”

Kie was suddenly there, helping you in shoving him away, and she looked at Rafe like he’d lost his mind—like she’d bore witness to an even sinister side to him. The blond didn’t seem all that fazed by her presence, barely sparing her a glance as his jaw clenched, his eyes on you. Clearly he felt that whatever he was contemplating wasn’t worth it, because without another word—but not without a final scoff—he made his way back to the party on the beach.

Kie wrapped her arms around you when you started to cry.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

What a loaded question, and you realized that the truth was just on the edge of your tongue. Unable to stop yourself, you threw your arms around her, collapsing under the weight of all your choices and what had led you to make them.

“Kie,” you started, voice trembling in her ear. “I have to tell you something.”

If she was horrified by the truth, she didn’t show it much. You could tell she was shocked as the words tumbled from your lips, her brown eyes stricken and face draining of color. You didn’t know what bothered her more—the drugs, the prostitution, or that both involved Rafe Cameron. As it turns out, it was none of those things.

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you let us help you?” she tearfully wondered, looking between your eyes. “We know how hard it’s been for you, and we wanted to be there for you, but you…you just disappeared. You barely came around, and John B. heard things, but he didn’t want to believe them.”

She whispered that last part, and your chest ached at the thought of your friends hearing about your out of character behavior but feeling powerless to stop it, accepting it as part of your grief.

“Rafe’s a demented asshole,” she finally spoke on the elephant in the room. “...and we won’t let him win, okay?”

There was conviction in Kie’s voice, the kind of conviction that made you want to believe her, and so you nodded at her words.

She helped you straighten, wiping your face and taking you back to the party, quietly promising you that she wouldn’t say anything about any of this to the guys. She stuck to you for the rest of the night, and a week later, she made good on her promise, her parents shaking your hand as they welcomed you to their staff.

“We could always use the extra hands,” Mrs. Carrera told you one Friday evening. “It gets crazy busy, especially on the weekends.”

All the noise in the restaurant only validated her statement.

You’d been working at The Wreck for a week, and while it was nothing like what Rafe had been paying you, it was a job. It was a means of earning your own money that didn’t involve lowering yourself to the likes of Rafe Cameron. It was grueling, sure, and you sometimes wondered if it was truly worth the money, but then you’d think of the alternative, and you’d decide that it was worth something and that’s what mattered.

You hadn’t been paying that much attention when you approached your last table for the night, looking up from the apron at your waist and stopping in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here too,” Topper said, a fairly neutral greeting.

Topper may have been just as much of an asshole as his friends, but he at least played nice for the public. Your gaze traveled around the table, quickly looking away when it connected with a familiar blue.

“It’s…a fairly new gig,” you finally said, getting your notepad ready.

“Hey, if you’re going to use your friends for anything, might as well use them to become a productive member of society,” he told you, his tone now making you frown.

Opting to ignore the comment, you asked them what they wanted. You didn’t make eye contact with Rafe when he gave you his order, hand unsteady as you wrote it down. When you left them to go and get their drinks, you weren’t surprised to hear the scrape of a chair behind you. You were focused on rounding the counter, reaching for some clean glasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You didn’t forget your last encounter with the rich blond, tempted to ignore his presence altogether, but you were unfortunate enough to know how Rafe operated. Pausing in your movements, you turned to look at him, not surprised at all by the unhappy look on his face.

“I’m working, Rafe. What does it look like?”

You eyed the way his jaw ticked, finger gently tapping against the counter as he simply…stared you down. You glanced away, realizing that he didn’t have any power over you anymore. No, you weren’t completely out of the woods, but you had a secured source of income, and you’d happily struggle and scrape over sleeping with Rafe ever again.

“Go find some other struggling girl to take advantage of,” you finally said to him, grabbing their drinks and making your way to their table without a backwards glance.

Working at The Wreck was hard work, and no matter how many shifts you covered and how many tips you got, it was still long and hard work for half the money Rafe had ever paid you. You knew this when Kie came to you about the job, but on the other side of it, you were so beyond grateful for it. You were still stressed, of course, your monetary problems not going away anytime soon, but it was the normal stress of the average working twenty-something.

It wasn’t the kind of worry that came from a violent and abusive lover.

Rafe had been by the restaurant a few times since that day, and each time was more nerve-wracking than the last. Sometimes you served him, sometimes you didn’t, but it didn’t really matter because his gaze always found its way to you either way. On the days when Kie worked too, she’d ask you if you wanted her to do something about him, but you always declined.

After all, what reason would you have her give to her parents for kicking out the son of Ward Cameron who—to their knowledge—hadn’t done anything to warrant it?

Maybe you should’ve listened to Kie though. While you didn’t know if that would’ve changed things, you at least would have felt better about attempting to do something. Perhaps it was the mere sight of watching you work—watching you earn money independent of him—that made him snap, made him drop all pretenses completely. Barring him from the restaurant while you were there might’ve triggered some out of sight, out of mind response. It might’ve forced him to slowly get over whatever this thing was that he had about you.

It might have…

…and it also might not have done shit. Perhaps nothing would’ve changed, and you still would’ve found yourself tearfully staring at Kie’s mom as you took off your apron for the last time.

It was a normal Saturday when the texts and emails came through. The busiest day of the week, the most packed the restaurant ever would be for the next six days, and you’d been placing some fries down in front of some family’s kid when the noise in the restaurant…changed. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint how it changed, but if you did your best, it was like the chatters went from excitement about their food or whatever happened during the week to something else entirely.

One single thing that everyone was talking about.

You weren’t getting paid to mind your patrons’ business, but you started to think differently about that when the people at the table you were next to started to heavily eye you. The whole restaurant was loud with hushed chatter, so you couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the glances between the phones in their hands and you had you frowning.

You were slowly glancing around—realizing that that table wasn’t the only one—when you were yanked by your arm off the floor.

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” you worriedly wondered the moment Kie had you hidden from view.

The look on her face was hard to read, but her parted lips and wide eyes told you that she was horrified. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly unable to get the words out before slamming it shut, swallowing. The combination of her expression, her silence, and the lack of silence out there had a ball of dread forming deep in your gut.

“Kie,” you softly said. “What…what’s wrong?”

It took her a moment to speak.

“It’s Rafe,” she softly said.

Your confusion only grew, still not quite understanding. 

“What happened? Is he bothering you? Did…he do something to you?” you hesitantly asked, fearful that your former tormentor had turned his sights onto your friend.

“Not to me.”

That simple sentence started to put the pieces together, and you turned your face towards the front of the restaurant, recalling the stares and whispers and listening to the excited chatter. Your skin grew cold, goosebumps erupting all over you, and that dread was long gone. It was instead replaced by nausea.

“He sent everyone something…”

“No,” you heard yourself whisper.

“...a video.”

You turned to her with wide eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. Glancing down, you caught sight of her phone in her hand, and before Kie could stop you, you’d snatched it out of her grip. You moved out of her reach as she extended her arm, desperately trying to protect you, but it was too late.

You felt like you were weighed down by bricks as you stared at the two familiar faces on the screen.

It had to have been taken months ago, during one of the first few times you’d slept with him. You both were in Ward’s bedroom, and you remembered the day all too well, recalling the feel of his palm striking your skin and his voice in your ear before pulling your head down to his lip. Of course, it was that one and not one of the ones where he’d held you down and forced you to take his thrusts.

Your hand was empty, not even realizing when Kie had taken it back, simply staring into space at the memory of what was on that screen.

“Y/N, when my parents find out—and they’re going to find out—they…”

Her words died in the air at the sound of footsteps behind you, and you flinched when you heard a familiar voice call your name. Mrs. Carerra didn’t sound happy, and her expression fared no better when you turned around. You couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over as she gestured for you to follow her further into the back of the restaurant. You knew what was coming, what Kie was trying to prepare you for.

It was what Rafe wanted, after all…and he’d gotten it.

It was hours later when you were sitting with your back against your door, your phone turned off, overwhelmed by the influx of missed calls and messages from your friends. You’d only gotten a glimpse at them before finding your head bent inside of your toilet. Every single one of them bar Kie were shocked, their horror and confusion clear as day through their words. Only Pope had eventually sent a text that asked if you were okay.

…and the truth was that you weren’t.

You were so far from okay.

Rafe had won, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and even though Mrs. Carerra had expressed sympathy for your plight—more angry at the situation than anything else—she’d still had no choice but to let you go. Every other business in town valued the Cameron family way too much, and the only place that had been willing to hire you had been swayed by Rafe too in the worst manner possible.

It was well after midnight when your door shook from harsh knocks. You hadn’t moved in hours, just blankly staring at the wall, and you closed your eyes at the sound, positive it was one of your friends. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to answer questions and either break down or pretend you felt far better than you actually did.

You did, however, have the strength to face Rafe, your gaze lifting when his voice met your ears, demanding that you open the door.

His fist was still in the air when you swung it open, looking at him like he was something you’d find on the bottom of your shoes. He looked as put together as ever, completely unfazed by what he’d done. And why wouldn’t he be? This wouldn’t hurt his reputation and success in this town a bit. If nothing else, the video would have even more girls falling at his feet, but for some reason he didn’t seem to want that.

He preferred to force your hand instead.

“What is wrong with you?” you tearfully asked him, throat tight.

He didn’t respond right away, touching his tongue to his lip as his gaze roamed behind you.

“You gonna let me in?”

Your eyes almost popped out of your sockets, and he gave a haughty laugh.

“It’s not like I’ve left you with much of a choice, now, have I?”

He sounded so…proud of himself, and all you could do was cry as he brushed past you. He closed the door for you, noticing that you were struggling to move, and he kept his hand on the wood, his chest grazing your back as he pressed his face into your hair. You heard him deeply inhale, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I told you how this would end,” he whispered. “I gave you a chance to be smart about this.”

You went to move away from him, but his other hand shot out to grip your arm.

“You’re the one who made things way more difficult than they needed to be.” he continued. “We had a good thing going…and then you had to go and get sensitive and sentimental.”

When he forced you to face him, you kept your eyes on the collar of his shirt. The silence stretched as you refused to look at him, and you eventually heard Rafe heave a sigh. He let your arm go, and you watched him reach into his pocket, disappointed but not surprised by the roll of one hundred dollar bills he pulled out. When he straightened, he took your hand and placed the money in your palm, clasping your hands together.

A few more tears escaped when his fingers threaded through yours.

“Do you still feel like fighting this?” he quietly asked. “Let me know, right now, because I have all the time—and money—in the world.”

He slowly pulled you closer.

“You don’t.”

You shakily exhaled, reluctantly lifting your gaze to meet his own. You stared at one another for what felt like too long, and when he leaned in, taking your silence as defeat, you let him kiss you. It was a salty kiss, your own tears mixing in, but Rafe didn’t seem to mind, moving his lips against yours with a growing smile. His arm snaked its way around your waist, and the animalistic noise he let out told you just how excited he was to have you back under his thumb.

The couch seemed sufficient enough for him, bringing you both to it as he peeled your clothes off. You shuddered as the air hit your naked skin, thoughtlessly moving closer to his own body heat, and Rafe pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he laid you down. It felt like ages since you’d last slept with him, but you knew that wasn’t why you were trembling.

You were trembling because you finally realized you were sleeping with a monster. Before, Rafe had just been an opportunistic asshole to you. Rich, spoiled, selfish, the list went on, but now he was so much more than that. He was now someone who’d raped you on more than one occasion, and who had proved that he’d do anything to make you completely reliant on no one but him.

How else could he ensure that you’d never leave him? Never have any other choices but him? You’d eventually have to leave Outer Banks one day, you knew that to be true if you ever wanted a life independent of him, but that video could follow you around for the rest of your life, and very probably would.

When Rafe sheathed himself inside of you, stretching you out in a way that was regularly familiar to you, you gasped. The blond wasted no time in adopting a steady pace, fucking you hard against your couch, his fingers pressing into the arm of it. His grunts were soft in your ears, and despite your combined hatred and fear of him, you weren’t able to swallow down the whimpers that escaped your lips too.

You didn’t know what kind of hard on Rafe had for fucking someone he deemed so far beneath him, even more so to go through so much trouble of forcing you right back into his bed. You didn’t understand it one bit, and part of you never wanted to. You didn’t want to understand a thing that went on inside of his head, didn’t want to understand the thought process behind doing what he’d done to you.

His fingers scraped down your thigh before yanking you forward as he sat up some, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you. He was focused on the sight, lips parting as he panted from above you. He didn’t lean back down until your leg was over his shoulder, preventing you from moving much as he used you to chase his high, hips repeatedly curving against yours and forcing you to grip the couch.

“I missed this pussy so much,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth as he spoke. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You hadn’t before, but you did, now.

When his hand landed on your throat, it didn’t hurt, but his thumb applied just enough pressure to keep you alert.

“I’ll stop calling your friends dirty Pogues if that makes you feel better,” he whispered, a gentle kiss from his lips to yours. “...but you still belong to me.”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 20: The New Normal

Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count:

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor. 

“You left yourself too open again.” 

“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath. 

“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.” 

You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk. 

He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”

Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep. 

“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”

This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you. 

You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.  

“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts. 

You nod. “Yeah.”

The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied. 

If only they could see you now. 

Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything. 

Of course, he has to be here in order to do that. 

You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time. 

You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next. 

Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.  

“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you. 

Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission. 

His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha. 

The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you. 

Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control. 

Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs. 

You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”

“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.” 

You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?” 

“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.” 

You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you. 

Maybe the training is working after all. 

“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.” 

You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you. 

Something that’s already happened. 

You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that? 

You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely? 

Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats. 

“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you. 

“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again. 

“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door. 

You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast. 

His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you. 

He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never. 

He’s not your alpha. 

He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about. 

“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth. 

“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.” 

All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. 

“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge. 

Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes. 

“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too. 

“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you. 

“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently. 

“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.” 

“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says. 

You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room. 

How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller? 

That is what you were supposed to do. 

Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned. 

You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time. 

John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is. 

You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him. 

“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes. 

No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.” 

For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.

Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you. 

He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?” 

Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much. 

Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues. 

It would at least help you forget for a while. 

A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life. 

Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants. 

You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you. 

Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you. 

But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance. 

John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.” 

You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you. 

“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?” 

You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now. 

Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.

Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset. 

He hates it when you cry. 

Alphas don’t cry. 

You’re not an alpha. 

You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened. 

He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants. 

“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash. 

The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears. 

“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.” 

“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter. 

“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.” 

The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank. 

“No!” 

You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees. 

“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat. 

“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.” 

Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice. 

“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare. 

“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths. 

You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain. 

“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time. 

He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot. 

“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.” 

He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected. 

The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap. 

“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.” 

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.” 

You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you. 

“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice. 

A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.

“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.” 

“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.” 

His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on  they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own. 

You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened. 

You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is. 

He hates it. 

He hates the way he feels. 

The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in. 

Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up. 

The worst part? 

He likes it. 

He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence. 

He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long. 

For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over? 

He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls. 

He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival. 

He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest. 

He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room. 

It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help. 

By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally. 

It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. 

The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest. 

It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.

He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily. 

He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you. 

It’s working. 

A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks. 

“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.” 

“You like the beach?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.” 

“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.” 

“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully. 

He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.” 

You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception. 

“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.” 

“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.” 

“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”

Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.” 

“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.” 

A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation. 

He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm. 

You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly. 

You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.” 

“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin. 

You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork. 

You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.” 

He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.” 

He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy. 

You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back. 

“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you. 

“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.” 

He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment. 

“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you. 

You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?” 

He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds. 

He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan. 

“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.” 

Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John. 

He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you. 

“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.” 

Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock? 

The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins. 

“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?” 

You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.” 

“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.” 

“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.” 

He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed. 

“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement. 

You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager. 

You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room. 

“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand. 

You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed. 

Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass. 

John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?” 

“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again. 

You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both. 

John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?” 

“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before. 

John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him. 

John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?” 

Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement. 

John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak. 

You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high. 

John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes. 

Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back. 

“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life. 

“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours. 

“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls. 

Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock. 

John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.

“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”

You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night. 

NEXT ->

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[ichorai]

button ; coriolanus snow. (m)

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; what did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. misshaped. odd. not matching the rest of your buttons. his gift to you. “you’re wearing it,” coriolanus whispered. his voice sounded strained.

words ; 3.4k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, smut

warnings / includes ; unprotected sex (not very explicit), possessiveness, themes of classism, we meet reader's rich parents !! and grandma'am and tigris appear, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a third part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Your home was the very definition of old money—wealth and grace and high status carved into the marble floors, hung up in the large oil paintings, found within the fibers of the expensive carpets leading into grand halls. Snow had to consciously remind himself to appear unphased. He had this sort of life, too, as far as you were concerned.

It was only expected, especially considering your parents’ high positions: with your father being the top admiral of the navy, and your mother a renowned physicist with several awards under her belt. Dozens of rows of medals and framed certifications from both your parents were more than enough for Snow to gauge the mass of their importance.

He shifted the weight of his feet in his too-tight shoes. Anxious. He wore his dress shirt again, though not before asking Tigris to try and rework the buttons. The buttons hewn from his bathroom tiles. Make them look the same, he had told her. They’re uneven. Snow turned away before he could see her mildly crestfallen expression.

It was a special occasion, hence his dressed-up attire. There was a rose pinned to his waistcoat, a deep shade of red, from his Grandma’am’s rooftop garden. Your father had come home today, after months of military work in the districts. And to celebrate such a momentous evening, you invited him to dinner. 

To meet your parents. How utterly fraught.

Though, now that the two of you were officially together (albeit only recently—Sejanus asked if the two of you were a thing and Coryo replied with an instinctive, possessive yes, much to both of your surprise), Coriolanus supposed there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Don’t be nervous,” you told him, arm looped around his. The white rose he’d given you upon his arrival was tucked neatly behind your ear, a lovely contrast to your all-black garb. In a light-hearted tone, you added, “Father would be able to smell it on you. The fear.”

Coriolanus shot you an exasperated glance, to which you only smiled. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss onto his cheek, hand sliding down from his elbow to lace with his. 

“You look… breathtaking,” he said, lifting your conjoined palms to brush his lips over your knuckles. Of the many lies that he told you, this certainly wasn’t one of them. 

Your eyes gleamed with the light from the chandelier hanging above you.

“And you look handsome as ever.” A pause. You seemed bashful all of a sudden, averting your gaze to the gold patterns on the marble floors. “I know this is all very new, so I apologize in advance, if my father asks about our, uhm… our future… He’s a very forward man.”

A smile twitched at the corner of his lips and he slotted his free hand beneath your chin, the pad of his thumb pressing lightly over the side of your throat, forcing you to look back at him. “I have no intention of letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You smiled again, all sunlight and warmth, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but steal it away with one last kiss. 

“Ready?” you asked, jerking your head in the direction of the dining room. 

Snow swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

Dinner was quite a pleasant affair. The food was better than anything the academy ever served—Coriolanus wondered how you could willingly go from eating such delicacies at home to basic, run-of-the-mill meals the cafeteria provided. There were courses, tender peppered steaks (his very favorite), rich mushroom soups, iced lemon cakes, and several sorts of breads and butters were offered all throughout.

Your mother was a delight, enchanting him with stories of laboratory mishaps and her dangerous adventures with radioactive material. You looked a lot like her, he realized.

Your father, on the other hand, was pressing at first, grilling Coriolanus with dozens of personal questions. If you hadn’t warned him beforehand that he was a military leader, he most definitely would’ve worked it out for himself then. There were times where you politely but forcefully snapped at him, telling him to lay off the invasive interrogation and to let the poor man eat. But Coriolanus really didn’t mind—he’d spent hours upon hours preparing himself for this. He answered all of the questions with effortless ease.

By the third course, your father was satisfied. Reluctant, but satisfied. By the fourth, he was already asking about marriage, much to your mortification. Coriolanus smiled down at his plate, and quietly listened to you lecture your father about privacy and civility.

Yes, dinner was quite enjoyable. Several containers of food from unseen servants were wrapped up for him to take home, at your request, despite his polite protests. It wasn’t a common thing to do in the capitol, but your parents hadn’t batted an eye. 

He was safe. They didn’t know. It was an ongoing mantra the entire night.

He was shown out the door by your father, who clapped a large hand on his shoulder and told him to take care of you, especially while he was gone. Your mother kissed him once on each cheek as farewell, and you did the same, though your kisses strayed far closer to his lips. He caught the mischievous gleam in your eyes. 

The door shut behind him once he strode into the expansive courtyard in front of your mansion of a home. He glanced down at the rose pinned to his coat, wondering if you were still wearing yours behind your ear. A minute later, he jumped out of his reverie when the entrance creaked open once more. You peeked your head back out, eyes alight, pleased to see that he was still there. 

You slid out from the entryway and made your way to him with quick strides, wasting no time to rest your hands upon his chest. To his delight, you were still wearing the rose. “Father and mother left to watch television in the estate’s Northern wing. Didn’t want to kiss you in front of them.”

There were wings to your house? Coriolanus blinked at you, accidentally letting his indifferent mask slip for a few seconds. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it, leaning forward to kiss him sweetly. It took him another moment to gather his wits, before winding his arms about your waist and deepening the kiss, nearly bending you backwards with his vigor.

He could never tire of this, he thought, fingers curling so his nails dug into the expensive black fabric of your top. Kissing you, touching you, entertaining the notion that you were his, and only his. 

When you pulled away, your lips were wonderfully kiss-swollen and your pupils were blown wide, to his amusement. Were his eyes just the same?

“Thank you for being here today,” you mumbled, that smile-frown he was so fond of gracing your features once more. “I’m sorry if my parents were too—”

“They were wonderful. You’re wonderful,” he interrupted, tone soft. His hand lifted from your waist to cup your face. Cold fingers against flushed skin. “I’ll see you at the academy?”

A nod, a grin, and a relieved sigh. “Sleep well, Coryo.”

“You, too.” He pulled away, reluctant, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. “You look good with it, you know. The rose.” With a final nod, he turned on his heel and walked away from your estate, back to his own cold penthouse, where he had to burn newspaper scraps to keep warm.

The months drew by like a lazy stream of water, gliding over a bed of stones, languid and pleasant. Your time with Coriolanus was nothing short of utter bliss. He was a sweet lover, despite his possessive streaks, always making sure you were alright with what he was doing. The two of you went slow and steady, always asking, always gentle. He kissed you as if you were made of sugar glass, and you held onto him as if he was a fragile ceramic vase.

Exams were drawing nearer with each passing day, and the two of you found yourself studying and cramming more than anything. He would often tell you that there was no need for you to study so hard, especially when you were already at the very top, likely to claim the Plinth prize for yourself, but you always waved him away with a modest laugh. If the two of you weren’t at the library pouring over dozens upon dozens of books, you were finding ways to sneak him into your home: kissing behind stone statues in the gardens, hiding behind velvet curtains, pulling him onto your massive, four-poster bed.

It was only a matter of time until you asked.

His arm was draped over your bare midriff, drawing mindless shapes into your hip. Your head rested back against his chest, mildly sweaty from the lovemaking session the two of you were still dwindling down from. You stared out your window, watching the sun slowly bleed the sky a hazy clementine hue, teeth sinking down into the flesh of your bottom lip in thought.

“Why haven’t we ever studied at your home, Coryo?” you asked. “I’ve yet to meet your cousin. You talk about her a lot… she seems wonderful.”

You felt a cold breath billow over the back of your neck. It sent pleasant chills spider down your spinal column. And you could’ve imagined it, but his fingers seemed to flex over your bare flesh. Twitch. Almost antsy. Did your question make him uncomfortable?

Shifting in his grasp, you turned within his arms so you could face him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you, or anything. I just… just know that I’d never judge you.”

His expression was near unreadable, the blue of his eyes even paler than usual with the sunset’s light casting a honey-glow over both of your sprawled-out forms. He kissed you again, hungrily, almost as if to distract you. You let him.

Kiss you, touch you, bruise you. Any of it, all of it.

A low groan barreled within his chest when you fisted a handful of his soft blonde waves at the base of his neck, gently tugging. 

“Nothing you could show me would make me love you any less,” you muttered against his lips, nose nudging against his. “Nothing, Coryo.”

And he, in a moment of love-addled weakness, let himself believe you.

Come the next afternoon, you were at the door of the Snows’ penthouse, a basketed batch of warm cookies held in one hand, the other holding a heavy bag full of all your textbooks to study. If the two of you were going to study at all today. Your mother was aghast that you were about to visit his home without some sort of gift, and abruptly shoved the basket of goodies into your arms out of seemingly nowhere, as if materialized out of thin air.

“Coriolanus loves the chocolate chip ones,” she harrumphed whilst ushering you out the door. “Honestly, showing up to someone else’s home empty-handed? Who raised you?”

The irony was not lost on either of you, and you barked out a laugh before kissing her farewell and setting off to visit him. 

You rang the rusted doorbell once—curiously regarding the little button once you realized that it was broken. Then, you knocked the door twice, then another two times for good measure. There was a muffled scuffling behind the door, a woman’s voice echoing from behind.

And when it swung open, you were met with an elderly woman, shrouded in a too-large, black tunic with embroidered flowers on the sleeves, the threads loose and pulled, the once-vibrant colors faded. She wore a turban, covering most of her white hair save for the few thin tendrils framing the sides of her face. 

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus’ classmate,” you greeted, in an ever-so-capitol-esque manner. “You must be his… Grandma’am?”

She appeared confused for a moment, before slow sparks of recognition fired across her blue eyes. Coriolanus had the same eyes, you noted.

“Oh!” she crooned. “Oh, dear me! Coriolanus! It’s your lovely friend!” 

There was a bit of commotion down the hall. The brief moment of pause allowed you to finally take in why Coriolanus hadn’t wanted you to come to his home all this time. The penthouse was still quite lavish, as the Snow estate was one of the most expensive properties in the capitol, but it was clear that the space was diminishing with the weight of its upkeep—flickering lights, dusty floors, tears in the wallpapers, mold on the countertops…

Your attention was drawn away from the view when Tigris and Coryo emerged from the same room, and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to break across your features. His cousin was fretting over his lopsided curls, and he discreetly tried to duck out of her way to get to you.

“My, you are just as gorgeous as he said you were!” Grandma’am said in a pitching tone, wrangling your attention back to her. She lifted her hands to lightly pinch at your cheeks. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.” Her fingers fell away and she scuttled off, murmuring something about the Capitol’s First Partner—

Coriolanus breathed out your name and his hand was on your shoulder, apologizing once, twice, three times (what was he even apologizing for?), before Tigris popped up by his side, bumping him out of the way so she could shake your hand vigorously.

“Hi! I’m Tigris—it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

You shook the blonde woman’s hand, smile seeming to grow impossibly wider. “It’s nice to meet you, too! I love your dress.”

Her mouth dropped open in a flustered manner and a lovely rose shade dusted over her cheekbones. “Oh, this old thing?” She absentmindedly smoothed a hand down the frills of her pink dress. “Yeah, I… oh, it’s nothing, really, I just made it myself.”

“That’s incredibly impressive! You must be a really talented seamstress.”

A sharp clear of his throat made your eyes snap back to Coriolanus. 

“Coryo,” you greeted warmly. “I brought you cookies. Chocolate chip. Mother sends her regards.”

The two Snows in front of you eyed the basket with large eyes. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, accepting the basket from your extended hands and handing it over to his cousin. “Tigris, if you’d excuse us—we’ve got some studying to do.”

Coriolanus began to tug you down the hall, and you waved back to Tigris, telling her that you’d love to see any of her other dresses later. She’d already reached into the basket and had a cookie halfway to her mouth as she nodded at you with a toothy grin.

His room was in around the same state as the rest of the home. Furniture was old, torn, frayed, or simply broken. There were several boarded-up holes in his dresser. There was a box of rat poison below his desk, which was full with all sorts of papers and stacks of yellowing books. You skittered in and dropped your heavy bag down by his bed, allowing him to close the door behind you. You just barely registered the click of a lock.

“So?” he asked, voice sounding much louder in such a confined space. He seemed tense, as if bracing himself for the worst. “Are you disgusted yet?”

“What do you take me for?” you replied easily, having already gathered why he was so afraid of bringing you here in the first place. “I’m not a leech, nor am I vain, Coriolanus. I don’t want more money, and I’m not here to offer you charity to flaunt my wealth. I thought you’d know that by now.”

He stalked closer, observing you like a wolf would its prey. “What is it you want, then?”

When you took a step back closer to his small, rather wiry bed, he would take two longer strides, crowding you back against it. He dipped forward so that his lips were only a hair’s breadth from yours, but just barely not touching.

“You know, I’m sure.”

“I do.” Coriolanus knew that you wanted him just for him, and nothing gave him more pleasure than that simple fact. His nose brushed yours. 

“Would it make me a fool to stay?” you asked, the question fanning over his mouth. Inviting, ever so tantalizing. “You’re not planning on chopping me up and selling my organs for some cash, are you?”

He didn’t laugh at your little joke. Instead, he dove forward, one hand yanking your hips to his, the other winding over to the back of your head. He kissed you desperately, all teeth and tongue, hardened lips and his knee slotting between your thighs. 

“No,” he susurrated thickly, as if he’d swallowed honey and soil, pressing you down until you were fully laid down over his rickety bed, back arched. “You’d be mine. All of you, just mine.”

He swallowed any sort of gasp and moan that fell from your mouth. Greedy, lustful, determined to make you pliable. His kisses didn’t slow down whatsoever when he tore himself away from your lips, freckling them down your cheeks, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones. 

What did make him pause, however, was the very top button of your shirt. 

Misshaped. Odd. Not matching the rest of your buttons. His gift to you.

“You’re wearing it,” Coriolanus whispered. His voice sounded strained.

“Mmh?” You glanced down at the button. “Oh. Of course, I am. I like how it looks.”

His face hovered above yours once more. His stare was so intense you began to shy away, staring at a moldy patch on the ceiling. The silence felt suffocating as you waited for him to do something. Anything.

“I love you,” he breathed out, finally. Upfront and abrupt. It wasn’t often that he said it. Maybe once or twice before, since you said it more than enough for the both of you. 

You laughed then—your wonderful, wind-chime laughter. It was more out of shock than anything. He kissed you soft and sweet, momentarily quelling your chuckling. But as the afternoon of so-called ‘studying’ drew on, the laughter melded into sighs of pleasure when clothes were shed, shifting towards wanton moans of desperation when heated flesh slid against one another. 

You nearly choked when his length breached your entrance, scratching faint red lines down the expanse of his back as he pushed in, pulled out. Rhythmic. Again and again and again—you couldn’t seem to get enough of him on top of you, inside of you, all around you. Your chest was pressed up against his; could he hear your heart beating through your ribs, yearning to feel his? The coil within your lower abdomen tightened. He read your every microexpression just perfectly.

He’d unbuttoned your entire shirt save for the oddly-shaped one, hands groping all over your bare skin, teeth biting down onto the patch of skin just above the button as he rocked himself into a climax, roping you down into the abyss with him. Ragged groans and broken sighs. 

Coriolanus dragged his tongue up your chest and your neck, leaving a cold trail in his wake, and he sucked in a deep breath. When he pulled back to stare at you—flushed, hair mussed, sweat beaded along your hairline, his pearlescent spend between your thighs, your eyes half-lidded… chest only barely covered by his one button…

“Thank you,” he croaked, kissing the space beside your left eye. “For not running.”

“Don’t make me a fool for it,” you replied, looping your arms over Coriolanus’ neck so he could kiss you properly.

[devotedfem]

«American Psycho»

Synopsis: In the 80's, there's a group of wealthy succesful wall streeter men that are disgustingly greedy. They maintain an appearance of perfection, but they're narcissistic, egomaniacal, competitive and murderers. Unlucky for you, they got infatuated on you, competing with each other to have you.

Hyung line (poly) x f. Reader

4.6K words.

Genre: inspired by American psycho (2000) | yander-ish.

Tags: American psycho au, power imbalance, 80's New York, Period Typical Sexism, murder, rich and powerful hyung line, classic wealthy corporate men, greed for money, college student reader, reader has grey morals, a little bit of gore but just at the beginning, savage capitalism, overworking, yandere hyung line, they're not good people, psychopaths and evil hyung line (but they have a soft spot for reader), end game poly relationship, possessive behavior, dubious consent (because of power imbalance), double penetration (you've been warned lol).

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

a/n: this contain very sensitive and triggering topics, like classism and sexism, the movie was inspired by a book that wanted to critize the image of the priviledge american man. I don't agree with any of the triggering topics here, this is fiction, so please read with caution.

Seokjin put off his face mask to apply his expensive cream on his skin. His face was straight and indifferent, bored even. He styled his hair with gel and he put on his luxurious dress suit, ignoring the gagged sounds of the annoying man tied to a chair in his penthouse.

Seokjin stared down at him without lowering his chin, lifting a brow with displeasure. That man looked too dirty for his polished place.

He grabbed his brand-new axe, covering his body with a plastic protective suit.

The tied and gagged man widened his eyes with horror, shaking his head and wailing with fear, getting nothing in return but a bored expression from Seokjin.

“This will teach you to not bother me. You’re not on the same level as me, you thought you could outdo me? Playing your tricks in my company? Don’t you know what I’m capable of?” Something evil and dark gleamed in his eyes, it was the only emotion he showed since the tied man met him. And it was frightening.

The polished porcelain floor got stained by blood, sparking Seokjin’s evil face. The man’s head rolled out of his body to Seokjin’s brand-new dress shoes.

The taller wrinkled his nose with disgust, annoyed because he has to change his favorite shoes.

“What a burden,” he whispered to himself with a deep sigh.

Meanwhile, in the building next door was Yoongi nursing a drink of his expensive whisky. His mahogany office was barely illuminated because of the curtains hiding the view of New York. Some of his employees say between whispers that the CEO acted like a vampire.

“I-I did what you asked me to, sir,” the employee in front of him trembled with anxiety, intimidated by Yoongi’s heavy gaze.

Yoongi lifted a corner of his lips in a disdain way, his eyes darkening with anger.

“And you think that following my orders like a moron means that you did a good job?” He spat furious, throwing his whiskey glass, shattering it next to the employee’s head.

The man shrinks violently, and he did something pitiful even for Yoongi’s taste. The man dropped to his knees, looking at his boss with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t fire me, I need this job to pay my bills or I’ll be on the streets,” he said with desperation and teared eyes.

Flames of satisfaction and power raises to Yoongi’s lungs. He enjoyed watching the kind of power he holds over other people, it was a shame that his employees were so dumb and inefficient, because he did pay very well to them. So, to him it was reasonable to be demanding, after all it was his money at stake.

Yoongi walked slowly towards the knelt man, with a smirk growing on his lips. Then he took out his gun silencer shooting the man to the head, making his body fall to the side silently.

“One less idiot,” he murmured to himself, nursing another glass of whiskey.

And there it was Namjoon and Hoseok, the feared duo of executives. They were ruthless on their work, the definition of competitive successful man. The greedy representation of privileged man who are at the top of the food chain in the patriarchal New York society of the 80’s.

They were at an executive meeting, looking at each other with knowing smirks, making everyone in the room nervous and tense. Because they haven’t said a single word since the proposal of their work partners.

And they still kept quiet at the end of the meeting, glancing at everyone with boredom, getting out of the room without saying goodbye. After all they have better things to do.

“What a bunch of idiots,” Hoseok huffs rolling his eyes with annoyance. Namjoon chuckled nodding his head.

“I already send the order to kill them,” Namjoon said with a grin.

Anyone that dares to do as much as wasting their time, will get erased.

And there it was you.

A New York student that has to deal with college and rent.

This city was expensive, and you were just a middle-class girl with dreams. You worked many parts time jobs to support yourself and prove to your family that you don’t need to marry a man to be happy, you can be an independent woman.

Well, that was easier to say than to do, it was hard to pay your bills and tuition without anyone’s help. You were exhausted and full of debts. You sighed deep, maybe if you marry rich then you wouldn’t have to worry about these things, but you were too proud to admit that out loud. You have to be the change you want to see in the world, don’t you? You say that to yourself to feel better, and to not to be on the verge of mental breakdown.

You feel like crying, until some miracle happened to you.

You founded 3 job offers as an assistant for 4 men. And the best part of it? Is that the four of them gave you the job. And the pay was quite generous.

They don’t have to know that you’ll be the assistant of other people at the same time, you’ll manage. You’d do anything for money at this point, even if that means overworking yourself.

You got ready for your first day, wearing your nicest pencil skirt and doing your hair in a slick bun. You looked pretty decent, ready to be eaten by corporate men.

You divide your schedule in three, you spent all night making the perfect schedule. You were lucky that those men worked in nearby buildings, otherwise your plan would’ve been impossible.

7:00 am to 11:00 am; Kim Seokjin.

You sighed deep, trying to control your nerves. You knew that the rich men of wall street are insufferable and labor exploiters, so you did prepare mentally for any kind of abuse, you need the money.

You knocked once, twice, but you didn’t receive an answer.

You waited 15 minutes in front of Seokjin’s door, you wanted to cry and break down the door. Your time was gold, literally.

And then a tall handsome man greets you, his face was impassive and serious, like if he has a stick up his ass. But you couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated by his heavy and cold gaze fixated on you. He stared down at your body without lowering his chin, with square shoulders and a straight posture. He looked composed in a frightening way. You gulped nervous, trying to give him a smile and swallow your insults.

“Good morning Mr. Kim, it’s a pleasure to meet you, i-“

You were interrupted by him rudely turning around and leaving you alone in the hallway, standing with your lips parted like a fish.

What an ass.

He was way worse than you think.

You sighed deep entering his penthouse, you have no choice but to bear with his attitude, the pay was too good unfortunately.

You cleared your throat taking your notebook out of your bag.

“So, Mr. Kim, I need to know more details about your daily routine and schedule, anything will help,” you said clicking your pen and looking at him expectably.

He arched a brow, looking genuinely pissed. You frowned confused, you didn’t know why that man was so annoyed by your existence.

“I didn’t hire you to be this irritating, stop asking questions and figure it out,” he almost snarled the last words, turning around to fix his tie in front of his living room mirror.

You again, parted your lips. You bit your tongue hard, tasting your iron blood. You wanted to punch that rude ass man, but you just couldn’t. You were powerless right now.

So you sighed again, with a fake and tense smile on your face.

“I’m sorry if I bothered you Mr. Kim, I just want to make my job right. If you please could provide me with your valuable information so I can do the best job you definitely deserve.”

Seokjin went rigid at your words, turning around to look at you with fury and disbelief in his eyes, it was the first emotion he showed to you.

“Are you… are you being sarcastic to me? Don’t fucking get smart with me!”

You widened your eyes at his shout, it was such a rare sight to see him this affected. You won’t lie, it was a bit funny to watch how you can get under his skin so easily. But offending him wasn’t your intention, you don’t want to get fire on your first day of work.

“I would never, sir,” you said trying to not sound bitter, but Seokjin’s narrowed eyes told you that he didn’t believe you.

“Watch your mouth.” He barked, and you almost roll your eyes.

“Please, I just need to know some details of your schedule, then you will never hear my annoying voice again, i swear. I just want to do a good job for a man like you,” your eye almost twitch by your own disgusting words, you felt like a bootlicker, but you have no choice.

Your dignity will not pay your bills.

That eased Seokjin’s tensed shoulder, his eyes softening just a little bit.

“Fine,” he said rolling his eyes.

And he did help you with information about his schedule, you made a list of his priorities and things you should do and not do. Your smile was too big to hide, you definitely can handle this! Not even a jerk like Seokjin will stop you from earning that good money.

“Thanks! I’ll be out of your hair Mr. Kim, you won’t even notice I’m here,” you said grinning ear to ear, maybe you looked insane smiling so happily at a man that treated you so poorly, but you didn’t care.

Seokjin blinked a little taken aback, but you watched how a small smile curled up on his lips.

“It’ll be difficult not to,” he teased you before turning around and fixing his tie again. You stand there speechless.

Surprisingly, it was way creepier to watch him tease you and smile instead of insulting you.

The moment that your watch struck 11 in the morning, you literally ran to the next building where your next boss works.

His building was cold and almost empty, the people there were pretty quiet and distant, you felt shivers when you knocked Mr. Yoongi’s door.

“Come in,” a deep voice said at the other side of the door. At least he doesn’t ignore you like Seokjin.

You entered his office, forcing yourself not to drool by the beauty and luxury of this place. Everything looked so expensive.

“Hello Mr. Yoongi. I’m your new assistant, it’s nice to meet you.” You felt a little bit intimidated by the heavy and dark gaze of Yoongi, his pale face and black suit made him look like a vampire.

Until now, he didn’t act rude towards you, but he sure as hell didn’t seem nice.

He was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, not breaking his piercing stare from you. One of his hands was holding a liquor glass, that must have been the first red flag.

“Before we start, you have to know that if you do as much as bother me, or screw up your work, I’m going to finish you. Literally and figurately.” He threatened with a gulp of his drink. His dark gaze piercing you while the liquor went down his throat.

Your chest deflated with disappointment, your hope of working with a decent man crashed immediately.

You weren’t scared at all by his threat. You know these types of man are powerful and dangerous, you couldn’t risk pissing off one of them without consequences, you live in a patriarchal society so you won’t be fooled by the thought that they’ll play fair. You weren’t dumb, and you know how to play your cards right.

“Good to know Mr. Yoongi. I appreciate when my bosses are direct with me, makes my job easier. Could you please tell me more details about your schedule? So I can get to work and not waste more of your time.” Your clicked pen was the only sound in the quiet office.

Yoongi’s eyes widened just for a split second. But he composed himself by clearing his throat and giving you information that would make your work easier.

You get to work in silence in Yoongi’s office, you felt his heavy stare on your body, but you ignored him, focused on your papers.

It was a bit creepy the way his eyes would follow you across the office, but you can bear a creep man if he pays as half as good as Yoongi do.

Unbeknownst to you, the paled man smirked devilish to himself, he liked you. And that was more dangerous than his dislike.

You almost jumped when the clock struck 3 in the afternoon.

Your stomach twisted a little, you gulped your anxiety down. It was time to meet your next bosses, they were two executives. If dealing with one rich man in 4 hours was difficult, imagine dealing with two at the same time. You won’t lie, you feel nervous.

Namjoon and Hoseok building were different from your other bosses, this place was full of people running everywhere, it looked so chaotic. But at least you won’t get bored.

Nobody paid attention to you, and you had to ask to like 10 people for where your bosses at.

They were in a meeting. Great, just great.

You waited patiently for them to finish. And when they got out of the meeting room, you rush to them crossing their paths. They stopped immediately, the taller one has an irritated expression and the shorter looked offended by your presence.

“Hi good evening. Sorry for startle you both, I’m the new assistant y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said a little bit out of breath but that didn’t stop you from smiling at them.

“Excuse me?” The taller arched a brow.

You frowned not understanding the offense.

“Uhmm, sorry?”

The shorter one rolled his eyes with irritation.

“Are you fucking dumb? Who told you that you have any right to bother us? Know your place and go with the others employees and figured it out.” He dismissed you with narrowed eyes.

You stood there frozen, and they ignored you walking past you.

But you composed yourself quickly, their attitude wasn’t nothing new.

And again, you joined them on their walk to God knows where, you were praying to not pushing it too hard and get fired.

“It wasn’t my intention to bother such busy and important men like you, I just wanted to introduce myself and get information to do a good job and to be out of your hairs for an unlimited time.” This time your voice sounded breathless, you were exhausted.

The shorter one snorted in disbelief, his eyes flamed with something wicked.

“Is this thing being sarcastic to us?” He asked looking at you but not speaking directly to you.

Your chest sting with offense at him calling you a thing, but you swallowed your bitter emotions.

“I’m y/n,” you replied with a tense smile, not biting the bait.

“Y/n, get the fuck out of our sights unless you want to disappear, and not only from this company,” the taller one threatened with a dark glint in his eyes. You shivered slightly, he was wider and bigger than the other, looking way more dangerous.

Men and their big egos.

“I… I’m sorry for being this bold and rude. I don’t want to waste your time really, I just want to make a good job, that’s my only purpose. I promise to be out of your sight if you could spare me some minutes of your time, I will make it worth it.”

Silence. An uncomfortable hush.

“Very well then,” said the shorter one, tilting his head to the side and watching you head to toes. A wicked smile curled his lips, and you chose to ignore the alarm bells ringing at the back of your head.

“Follow us,” the taller ordered with a deep voice.

At the end of the day you were exhausted, you made it, you survived corporate exploiters men.

The following weeks went rather smoothly. Yes, they were rude and annoying, but you got used to them. You can’t say that you like them, but you tolerate them (for the sake of your rent and bills of course).

Seokjin underneath his cold and indifferent behavior was like a spoiled brat, sassy and rude, but a little bit endearing at some times.

“Y/n, fix it,” he almost whine looking down at you with frowned lips.

You chuckled rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna start to think that you just want me near you,” you teased, a little bit bold yes, but over time you learned that Seokjin liked to tease way worse.

His eyes glinted with mischievousness, the corner of his lips curling like the cheshire cat.

“You sure wish that was true, don’t you?”

“Of course,” you replied laughing.

It was all jokes between you two, you got used to this type of interaction with your boss. Sometimes he did get a little too friendly for your like, but you really didn’t care. This job was temporary anyway.

And there it was Yoongi, the intimidating vampire-like boss that in the inside was like a bratty cat.

His feline eyes liked to be fixated on you, watching your every move like an actual cat for your amusement. You didn’t mind his heavy attention on you, he was wary with his employees like any other rich man from wall street. You got used to him too.

“Here are the papers you asked me for, sir,” you said airily, you had everything perfectly arranged, leaving no room for mistakes.

Yoongi hummed, looking at the papers and then looking at you again with eyes full of mischief.

“Are you sure it’s that all I asked for?” He didn’t break his piercing eyes from you, many people get intimidated by his stare but not you.

“Yes, of course,” you said smiling and he nodded to himself.

“There’s one thing you haven’t done.”

You didn’t say anything back, you were sure you did everything.

“And that would be…?”

“Having a drink with me, you never do that when I ask you to.” He asked nonchalant with his eyes on his drink, but you knew he was being serious.

“That’s not professional,” you said and he chuckled at your response.

You sighed biting your bottom lip, indecisive. Your goal was to be on their good side after all.

You said nothing when you sit in front of him crossing your leg over the other, the same way he does when he’s drinking. You smirked when he startled a little, but he tried to hide his surprise by a cough.

He poured you whiskey and you took a sip of your drink, trying not to wrinkle your face by the bitter taste. But Yoongi noticed and laughed, you widened your eyes at the sound. It was the first time you listened to his laugh and it was contagious because you chuckle with him.

Namjoon and Hoseok despite seeming intimidating the first time you met them, they were pretty chill and funny when the three of you become a little more closer.

They were in a meeting, and you were by their sides writing down the relevant things they say.

“See that guy over there? Look how he’s falling asleep,” Namjoon whispered near your ear, too close for your liking. However, you follow his gaze watching the older man’s head tilting to the side with sleepiness. You bit a laugh, the poor man had his eyes half lidded with boredom.

At your other side was Hoseok, he had his gaze fixated on the guy speaking, but he looked at you when he heard your little chuckle, a mischievous smirk curled on his lips. You said “sorry” quietly, but he only winked at you before turning his attention again to the man, returning to his cold expression.

When the three of you get out of the meeting room, Namjoon and Hoseok started to make fun of the guy’s speech and the older man’s attempt of being awake. You laughed genuinely for the first time around them.

“Those two don’t know what awaits them.” Namjoon’s words made your smile fall slowly, erasing any hint of amusement. You almost forgot the kind of men you work for.

“Are you going to… fire them?” You asked quietly, gripping tightly your notebook.

Namjoon only shrugged his shoulders, but you noticed the evil glint in his eyes.

“Firing them is too soft coming from us,” Hoseok replied instead, not without smiling at you. But this time his smile turned your stomach sick.

You chose not to ask more questions. Sometimes being ignorant it’s a blessing.

You settle into a routine with your bosses for a couple of months.

But as they say… lies has no legs. They started to notice that your attention wasn’t completely on them.

Seokjin was the first to notice.

That morning he was staring down at you with narrow eyes, even when you tried to joke with him while fixing his tie he ignored you without breaking his piercing eyes from you.

“You said the other day that you work only for me, is that correct?” His voice sounded harsh, and he stared down at you with dark eyes. You gulped nervously, your smile trembling a little.

“Yes, it’s the truth.”

He didn’t say anything back and you didn’t meet his eyes.

“Fine.”

You tried not to snap your eyes up at him with surprise. Does he really believe you?

But then, you felt Seokjin coming near your body, gripping your chin up to met his heavy gaze.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

He was standing too close to your body, his chest almost touching yours. The grip on your chin tightens when you didn’t reply right away.

“I… don’t,” you couldn’t help but be confused. It wasn’t his business if you have a boyfriend or not.

He nodded slowly, not breaking his eyes from you.

“Good. As long as you work for me, you can’t have a fiancé, neither another boss. I’m paying for your absolute time and attention. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips parted and your eyes widened. You were shocked and confused, who does the thinks he is?

“Answer!” he barked furious.

“Yes,” you gritted between teeth.

What a jerk.

And Yoongi was the same.

He was sitting with his heavy gaze fixated on you as usual, but this time he wasn’t holding a glass of whiskey.

“Who else do you see after work?” he asked lifting a brow and tapping his foot.

None of your fucking business, you wanted to bark at him, but instead you bit your tongue.

“No one else, sir,” you couldn’t help but sound bitter.

He snorted with the corner of his lip curling up in a disdain way.

“I hope it’s true, because if not you’ll pay the consequences.”

This time you couldn’t bit your tongue back.

“What consequences? Firing me?”

You regretted opening your big mouth immediately.

Yoongi didn’t react, he simply stood up to walk towards you like a predator ready to pounce its prey.

“I usually don’t say this, but you’re a very valuable employee. If you want to keep a roof over your head, you have to be mine,” he growled the last word near your ear, although he was short, he towered over you, making you feel small with his closeness and strong fragrance.

You gulped, nodding without meeting his eyes. And he grinned wide. You swear you saw sharp teeth.

And Namjoon and Hoseok were even worse.

The both of them corned you against the desk of their office, the back of your knees hitting the corner of the desk. You gulped looking up at them.

“We wanted to ask you something, little bird,” said affectionally Hoseok, but you knew better than to fall for his smile.

“Are you fucking working for other people? Are you dating someone?” Namjoon raised his voice at the last words, staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

You widened your eyes and laughed humorless. They were psychos.

“What the-“

“Watch your mouth,” warned Hoseok, his lips turning a thin line.

“No, I’m not dating neither working for someone else. Happy?” you couldn’t help but sound angry.

The both of them went silent, looking at each other as if they’re having a mental conversation.

And they let you go.

You were on your way to your apartment. Their attitude today was the last straw, you got tired of them. You always noticed the red flags, ignoring the alarm bells and turning an eye blind.

You ignored Seokjin’s stains of blood, Yoongi’s silencer gun, and Namjoon and Hoseok erasing people. You told to yourself, out of sight out of mind. But that was your biggest mistake, you let your greed for money to blind you. For the first time you paid all of your bills without struggling, you ate well and wear the best clothes, and you didn’t worry for the tuition fee. But that doesn’t make you innocent or better than them, you were an accomplice, you were as greedy as them for money. You sold your morals in exchange of money, little money. You weren’t even rich.

Your chest stings painfully, and your eyes teared up. Your trembling lips let out ugly sobs, you were so ashamed of yourself.

You promised to yourself to be an independent woman but not be an accomplice of oppressors and criminals, but what choice did you have? Like people said, it’s eating or being eaten in this world.

It’s a man’s world, and you were simply a woman trying to survive.

You entered your dark apartment and grabbed your home phone, your bottom lip quivered when your mom answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mom,” you sobbed, sitting on the floor and gripping tightly the phone.

“Y/n? Dear, what’s happening? Why are you crying, is everything okay?” Her worry only made you cry harder, you didn’t deserve it. She raised a better woman and you were a disappointment.

“I-i’m the worst, I want to go home mom… I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You tasted your salty tears, sniffling and hiccupping.

But then the phone was snatched from you.

You were so into your self-pity that you didn’t notice the four figures lurking in the dark.

The lights turn on, and you blinked confused screaming with terror when you saw all of your bosses staring at you.

Seokjin was the one who snatched and hang up the phone.

“Our little princess misses her mommy,” Seokjin coed with a fake pout, he lifted your body making you scream harder.

He took you to the couch where the others were sitting, the tall man sat you on his lap, gripping tightly your waist in a warning when you tried to squirm out of his grip.

“It’s okay princess, I can be your mommy or daddy if you want me to,” Seokjin mouthed your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. He sniffed your hair, hugging you tightly from your back.

You wanted to throw out.

“Let me go you sickos! I quit!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

The apartment went painfully quiet. The tension can be cut with a knife.

But then Namjoon and Hoseok lips mouthed the skin of your neck, lapping each side of it.

You cried trying to move away, but they didn’t let you.

Yoongi squatted before you, with his lips brushing yours.

Their bodies were attached to every part of your body, not letting you breathe. Your senses full of them.

“Your ours,” whispered Yoongi against your lips.

And with dread you realized he was right.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

[bumblesimagines]

With Fire and Blood

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Unable to deal with his mother's indifference to his worries any longer, Jace turns his anger onto the dragonseeds

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, classism?, bastardphobia lmao, Jace is an angry lil hypocritical twink, suggestive content, era typical insults and such, spoilers for s2

All bro did was serve face and I cannot stop writing for him

~~~

Jace was well-aquatinted with the hot emotion that made his blood boil and hands curl into fists ready to swing at any moment.

The maesters claimed when he was born, he left his mother screaming and kicking wildly, nearly wriggling himself out of the maester and midwives' arms whilst they tried calming him enough to hand him off to his exhausted yet amused mother. He supposed it meant he'd always been short-tempered but he hardly found it to be his fault when he'd been brought into the world with looks that firmly branded him as Other. 

He'd been a child when it first dawned on him that there was a possibility he was not Laenor Velaryon's son, that neither of his little brothers were either. His mother never provided him with a full answer, only strained smiles and reassurances that he was a Targaryen.

Some nights, he'd stay up and stare at himself in the mirror, combing his fingers through his hair and imagining it was as silver as his uncles; poking at the area around his eyes and envisioning them to be lilac instead of mud brown. Jace tried ignoring it as best he could but the whispers and glances always tightened around him, reminding him he'd never be seen as anything but a bastard. 

Things grew easier in Dragonstone. Until the war broke and his mother took his idea of searching for kin to the filthy streets of King's Landing.

Truthfully, he nearly wept hot tears of anger when he first saw the army of bastards trekking into the castle. They were peasants, mongrels, filth who stole, lied, and betrayed for their own means, and they looked more like his family than he did. He despised it, despised the fact no one would ever question their parentage or blood when people would look puzzled or disgusted when they saw him.

It frightened him, too.

He'd grown uneasy when Rhaenyra fell with child soon after her marriage to Daemon, and the uneasiness grew when she bore him a little brother with those striking violet eyes and vibrant silver hair. A sister, he may have forgiven, but a brother? And one who looked more Targaryen than he did? Born to the power-seeking Daemon?

When four men stepped out from the blood and fire of the massacre with three dragons, Jace practically saw his future before his eyes; finding himself in his mother's spot, tearfully fighting against his own blood in desperate hope of claiming the birthright nobody believed to be his for the stain in his blood. He despised them, he decided. He'd already been distrustful of mere peasants so far below them entering the castle, but for those same mere peasants claiming dragons? 

That familiar flush of anger swept over him and he stared forward, his palms digging into the armrests below him. His mother had publicly chosen, right before him, to ride out with Addam of Hull over him, her own flesh and blood! Jace caught Baela's eye from across the table and she offered him a soft grimace followed by an empathic smile. 

"Well," One of the bastards broke the silence. Jace believed his name to be (Y/N), although he'd hardly been paying any attention when Rhaenyra brought the dragonseeds forth for everyone to become acquainted with. He only recalled the way his mother sucked in a sharp breath when the young man revealed himself to be the son of Daemon and a brothel worker. (Y/N) set his cup down on the table, swiping his tongue over his lips and rising. "I'm, uh, taking my leave, or whatever it is you're supposed to say." 

Baela blinked. "You have yet to finish your meal. You should finish." The softness in her voice made Jace's brows knit together. They were merely half-siblings through blood, not through any special means. A lady such as Baela had no need to speak so kindly to an unwanted pest from King's Landing.

"I have no desire to." (Y/N) responded, and Jace's fingers twitched when he left without bowing or acknowledging his prince. 

"More for me," Ulf said disgustingly through a mouthful of food, his hand scooping up the plate and scraping the remaining food onto his before he handed it off to a bewildered servant. Without his mother there, Jace allowed himself to scoff freely at the childish act, his eyes rolling as he cut into his meat and chewed on it.

By the time dinner ended and the dragonseeds slinked off to their newly given bedchambers, Jace still couldn't help but stew in his disappointment and bitter anger. He escorted Baela to her rooms, chewing her ear off with his complaints and growing insecurities on the way there, before bidding her a grumpy goodnight that she chuckled at.

Jace walked, or rather stomped, in the direction of his bedchambers but a figure standing in one of the balconies caught his eye, only fully capturing his attention when he noticed a dragon head peeking over the railing. Jace stopped and stared, marveling at the light gray coloring of the dragon, something akin to the glow of the moonlight. A soft, almost lavender color dusted the tips of the dragon's scales and horns and added to her beauty.

The Dragonkeepers claimed Chyrys had hatched from a clutch of eggs belonging to Silverwing just a year before his own dragon, Vermax, had hatched in his crib. After her failure and near-death at claiming Vermithor, Rhaena hoped the docile Chyrys would accept her as a rider, but the she-dragon refused to allow her on. Yet, she'd accepted a bastard as her rider. 

"Have you come to complain some more, Prince?" (Y/N)'s voice echoed in the silence of the night. His hand dragged over the snout of Chyrys, enticing a soft rumble of contentment from her. "I hear you've exchanged words with your dear mother over us." 

"You do not belong here." Jace told him before he could stop himself, the anger he'd tried desperately to entertain only in private moments spilling over. "You will never be one of us. You will never be a true Targaryen or a prince, no matter who your father is." He spat, lingering in the archway connecting the hallway. (Y/N)'s lips curled upward, and his amusement only made Jace's hands tremble with barely contained rage. How dare he laugh at a prince?

(Y/N) peered over his shoulder and retracted his hand from his dragon, the sound of rocks tumbling down the cliff toward the crashing waves below filling the air when Chyrys pushed herself away from the cliff and took off into the night sky. "You are aware that while my eyes may be (E/C), my hair is a color you'll only obtain when you've grown old and weary, no?" Jace's jaw clenched.

"Mind your tongue when you speak to me, you mongrel." Jace snarled, forgetting all about his desire to appease his mother by begrudgingly accepting the bastards' presence. It was unprincely of him to even be in the presence of someone of such low station, let alone bicker with one. His words struck his pride, however. "I am Rhaenyra Targaryen's son, I am her heir. You are the bastard of Daemon and the son of a whore."

He struck a nerve with the mention of his mother, he realized it when (Y/N)'s amused grin vanished into a scowl. His weak spot. "What? Are you not used to hearing the truth? I know your mother was a whore, and I am certain if it weren't for your silver hair, no one would believe you are the son of the late King's brother." Jace continued, eager to release his anger on someone deserving of it. 

"Just as no one believes you are the son of Ser Laenor Velaryon?" (Y/N)'s tone was edged with irritation, sharp enough to dip into Jace's gut painfully. He stepped forward toward him and Jace's hand instinctively flew to his side where his sword typically was, but for the sake of dinner, he'd left it in his bedchambers. Jace swallowed thickly when (Y/N) grew near, the smell of salt heavy on the bastard's skin from his time on the balcony. "Your brothers were never meant to rule Driftmark because your ancestral seat is in the very place Daemon Targaryen flew out to. You should have flown there first, treated with your family. I'm certain they would have welcomed you with such loving arms." 

"That is a vile accusation worthy of-"

"A vile accusation? Or the bitter truth you do not wish to hear?" (Y/N) arched a brow, the look of irritation he'd sported replaced with cruel amusement. He held eye contact as he stepped aside, his shoulder slamming into Jace's roughly enough to force the prince to stagger backward from the force, a hand raising to clutch it. Jace's features contorted. 

"You were born nothing, you will die nothing!" Jace called, his voice bouncing off the stone walls but (Y/N) paid him little to no heed, his indifference to Jace bringing him to his tipping point. 

A prisoner to the very anger that'd sent his true father away to his death, Jace's legs sprang into action and marched after him, his hands curling and uncurling. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears, the flush of anger over his face, and the aching desire to dig his hands into something until it broke. His palm slammed against the door leading into (Y/N)'s bedchambers, throwing it open enough for Jace to step through before he tossed it shut, the wood vibrating from the force. 

"Someone ought to teach you animals some manners." Jace hissed when (Y/N) faced him, the dragonseed blatantly rolling his eyes at him and staring at him like an exasperated parent would their troublesome child. He stepped right up to him, their chest and noses bumping together from the proximity but Jace's hands remained pinned to his sides. His mother would surely scold him for laying a hand on him, and he refused to disobey her further no matter the temptation. 

"Careful now," (Y/N) said lowly, his breath fanning against Jace's face and drawing his attention down to his lips. "You should recall we're cut from the same cloth, as Ulf said." 

His blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms until they left deep imprints, sharply inhaling through his nose as his eyes darted back upward to meet (Y/N)'s. Jace stared at him, the tension in the room nearly beginning to suffocate him before he lunged forward, his hands grasping the collar of his shirt and lips slamming against his. A muffled noise of surprise left (Y/N) and the two staggered backward until (Y/N) collapsed back on his bed with Jace atop him. Jace pulled back with heavy pants, his hands still clutching the shirt and his brain beginning to process what exactly he'd do. 

Mortification slipped in ever so slowly, followed by guilt for having his first kiss be with anyone but his darling betrothed. (Y/N) stared up at him with widened eyes and parting lips that suddenly looked enticing to Jace. Gods be good. Jace squeezed his eyes shut, desperately reminding himself he was engaged and that laying with someone such as (Y/N) would be an utter stain on his royal title. His eyes tentatively parted to absorb (Y/N)'s reaction, but his features had softened instead of hardened. 

"I hate you." Jace exhaled quietly and released his shirt, his hands planting themselves on either side of (Y/N)'s head. "You are a commoner. The smallfolk have no place in court, no reason to even step within a castle unless it is to beg for our kindness. I wished for nothing more than to watch Chyrys burn you to crisp-"

"But alas, here I am." (Y/N)'s hands cautiously settled on Jace's hips. "And with or without my presence, you are and will always be a bastard." 

Jace huffed. "Shut your mouth."

"Make me, Lord Strong."

With little to no hesitance, Jace swooped down and delivered a rough kiss to his lips. He had no experience, as embarrassing as it was, and he hoped it was far from obvious as he pressed his mouth harder against (Y/N)'s. He resisted the urge to jerk back when (Y/N) licked into his mouth and focused on clumsily trying to rid himself of his clothing. His cheeks flared at the soft groan that felt him, his spinning mind edging him on to entice those noises out of (Y/N) rather than allow someone such as the dragonseed to elicit them from a prince. His teeth caught (Y/N)'s bottom lip and lightly bit down, satisfied when the hint of metallic hit his tongue.

(Y/N) only chuckled despite the blood sliding along his lip, his hand rising to cup the back of Jace's head and fingers slipping through his brown curls before he tugged. A sharp, whiny curse escaped Jace and humiliation filled the prince when he felt his breeches grow annoyingly tight against him from the act. (Y/N) laughed in response, his eyes bright with mischievous delight at the discovery that made Jace's skin warm further. 

"Bastard," Jace swore.

"I know I am," (Y/N) pushed himself up into a sitting position, his head burying itself in Jace's neck and teeth clamping down hard enough to leave a mark. He brushed his lips up along the side of his throat until he reached Jace's ear, his free hand pushing into Jace's hips and making their hips press together. Jace cursed again. "And so are you, My Prince."

[burnthoneydrops]

Paper Flowers (b.b. x fem!reader)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: classism, anxious/slightly insecure reader, use of "young lady" and feminine descriptors

a/n: the second part of Language of Flowers is here! Thank you so much for all the love on the first part and I hope you enjoy the second one just as much! I set it up to have more parts in the future so if anyone is interested in that, let me know!!

The eyes of the ton were as insufferable as ever. One would have thought that a lady in simpler attire would attract less attention than those in large adornments or hair pieces, but today appeared the opposite indeed. Sure, when you were personally delivering large floral orders to people’s estates, you had eyes on you, but you could ignore them then. Then, you knew you would not be in their line of vision for long and you could rest assured with the guarantee that no one would remember past that moment. Now, however, now you were out walking in your simple attire with a lord. A lord of one of the most illustrious families no less. You had tried to convince Benedict to take the less occupied back roads, but he insisted that his desired destination would be faster reached should you take the main road. Not wanting to make a scene in public, you were left to be made a spectacle. 

The looks you were receiving were not lost on Benedict, but he chose to keep his head up high, nodding and smiling when someone was about to pull an ugly face. Perhaps the ton were weary as to why someone of his status was walking with a working class young lady, but frankly, he was too happy that he had gotten you on this walk in the first place to even consider how wild it might appear on the surface. He nearly reached out to grab your hand when he saw the Cowpers were approaching from the modiste, but realised just in time how much worse the physical affection might be and refrained, choosing to wipe some imaginary dust off of his trousers instead. 

“Something else will catch their attention by morning, do not fret,” he whispered with his head tilted in your direction but looking over your head rather than at you in an effort to look less obvious. 

You had been so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that were entrapped in him appearing at the shop and your parents sending you away that you had not had the time to think about presentation at all. You had heard girls lamenting to each other about their lacklustre presentations to the Queen and you could imagine that it felt something similar to this. All eyes on you, no one truly seeing you, yet everyone so quick to make a passing judgement. 

“Had I cared about the opinions of others, I would not have asked for your time. But I am here because I care not about them, but about you. Keep your head high, we are almost there,” Benedict whispered once again. While his words were nice, they did little to soothe your anxiety. Nonetheless, you raised your chin up higher, realising you had been staring at the cobblestone more than what was in front of you. You soon found yourself quickly approaching a luscious green field that left you wondering how Benedict had ever found it. It was much closer to the shops than his estate, and with the ton spending most of their months in the country, you questioned how his discovery of this place might have come about. “We have arrived,” Benedict commented with a small smile on his face, waving his arm out to the side in demonstration. 

“However did you find this place?” You questioned. 

“Being a child in a clan of eight means a lot of time to make daring escapes during family shopping trips,” he smiles, mischievous as you ever saw. The smile gives the impression that he looked back on those memories fondly, as you did with memories of you and your sisters. Maybe you had never had big family shopping trips into town, but the moral of the story lies in the bonds strengthened with those you were with. You started to believe you might have more in common than you previously imagined. 

“I figured we could sit and admire the view. Talk for a little, if it suits you,” Benedict looked over at you, gesturing to a place clear of any wandering eyes where you could lean against the sturdy tree trunk and watch the breeze create waves over the pond. 

“It suits me very well,” you nodded, a small smile etching its way onto your face as he sat down first, offering his hand as to assist you in doing the same. 

“I’d say the way the sun hits suits you very nicely as well,” he complimented, “you’re practically glowing”. 

“A fan of flattery are we Mr. Bridgerton?” you asked, teasingly but trying not to show it. 

“Only when I feel it necessary”. 

Though you were promised conversation, Benedict did not want to force it, so the two of you sat in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of this hidden paradise. The silence was not uncomfortable, mind you, but rather a space in which the two of you could gather all of your thoughts. The grass waved to and fro in the light breeze, catching glimmers of sunlight in every direction. It looked as though someone had sprinkled fairy dust and every sparkle was destined to catch your eye. The tree you were leaning on had a small hole in the trunk, and you quickly caught two squirrels dashing in and out of it, dancing on the tree branches above you. 

“This place is-” “I wanted to ask-” you realised you had started speaking at the same time. You nodded at Benedict, silently urging him to continue first. 

“I wanted to ask why you were so adamant about disliking me upon our first visit”. 

You paused. You knew this question was going to appear sooner or later and yet you did not have a precise answer. Not one that felt worthy enough of your anger anyway. It was not unlike you to get an idea stuck in your head and run with it, so unchanging that you had to apologise many a time to family members for such unwavering anger. It always felt silly a few days later, as it did now, to have held onto an unsupported emotion for so long, but you liked admitting your faults just as much as you liked giving Benedict the time of day when you first met. Surely your idea was not so drastic this time, as you had met many men of the ton and of the working class who held women in low regard, instantly annoying you, but you also knew that this time you were angered more because of his brother than because of him. You had just happened to meet him first. 

You decided it would be easier to just tell Benedict as such, and he sat there quietly during your entire speech. He did not interrupt, did not interject, did not even look away while you were explaining. It made you feel even sillier that he was listening so attentively to a situation you grew more and more embarrassed about. Ending your spiel, you placed your head in your hands, leaning your elbows against your knees as to become as small as possible. Benedict was quick to remedy this, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm away from your face. He looked at you with a goofy smile before reaching for an inner pocket in his jacket. 

“So your problem lies not with me, but with my brother?” 

“I do not believe I actually have a problem with any of you. Not a reasonable one anyway; I was merely already agitated and the situation you laid before me sounded so similar to ones I had heard before that I clumped you all together. This is not to dismiss the derogatory nature that men in the ton and of the working class have I just-” 

“I believe I understand,” Benedict cut you off, but only so you would not have to repeat your feelings in order to feel that you had explained them properly. “Now that we are at least a little on the same page, I did not want you to think that I had left you out of my gifting endeavours entirely,” he pulled something out of his inner pocket and you immediately noticed a delicate pale pink ribbon tying little cards together. “I couldn’t entirely fight the urge  to gift flowers, even though you work with them constantly, so I figured some longer lasting ones might be nicer”. He handed you the stack of cards and you gingerly unwrapped the bow from the front in order to get a better look. Now it was Benedict’s turn to become embarrassed, as he feared you may not like or appreciate them. You came from a family of florists, of course it was a low blow to gift you something related to your trade. This was a terrible idea and he should have never- 

“These are…beautiful,” you sighed, shifting through the cards with soft eyes. He had painted multiple flowers with their meanings listed under them in the fashion of miniatures. They were incredibly detailed and gorgeous that you could not imagine the amount of effort it took not only for him to create each flower but find their meaning as well. “You are an artist, I take it”. 

“I…dabble”. 

“Do not be modest Mr. Bridgerton. If this is dabbling I would love to see what your proper art looks like,” you smiled up at him and felt all worry about his gift choices melt away. You liked them and that is all that mattered. 

“My mother is quite well versed in the language of flowers, so I figured I would use what talent I have for you”. 

“My little sister, Abigail, keeps our flower book on her shelf so it is quite nice that now I can have one of my own. No matter how versed one might be, there is always the fear that one might forget, so these will prove quite useful I think.” 

Everything was going perfectly in Benedict’s mind. You liked his gift, you enjoyed the space you were in, you were smiling. You carefully tied the cards back together with the pale ribbon, turning them over and over again in your hand as if you couldn’t believe someone had taken the time to gift you such a thing. In truth you couldn’t; your family were certainly not the wealthiest in England, so gifts were small or hard to come by. They only really happened during holidays and birthdays, but half the time you ended up sharing with your sisters. Not that you were complaining, you loved your sisters dearly and were grateful for anything you received, but being able to have something to call your own was magical. 

A quick glance at Benedict’s pocket watch caused the whole scene to come crashing down, however, as he jumped up and informed you that he was late for a family event. You urged him to go, thanking him for the gift and the time, assuming this would be the end of your time together indefinitely. Benedict seemed to have other ideas. 

“There is a party. Two nights from now and I would love if you would come with me”. 

“Should you not be worried about bringing me?” 

“Whatever for?” Your question seemed lost on him. 

“Bringing someone of a lower status to a ton party would surely cause scandal, would it not?” 

“No, see, this is a party where everyone is invited. All types of people mingling together for an evening, doing whatever the night calls them to do. It is truly wonderful and it would be even more wonderful if you would attend. It would be after shop hours, so you would not have to worry about leaving your family to fend for themselves,” he teased and you laughed, “and I could come pick you up, make sure you arrive safely and all”. 

“If you are sure,” to which Benedict nodded enthusiastically, “then I suppose I shall”. 

His smile grew wide as he lightly grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before starting the walk in the opposite direction back towards Mayfair. You were still wary of what had taken place, and the promise you just made, but you supposed if one of you was certain enough about it that it would be fine. Or at least you hoped.

people who asked to be tagged: @easybrainrot34, @imgondeletedis, @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

[rad-batson]

The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

[i-hate-accidents]

i hate accidents: the ball

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  classism, mentions of financial survival, microaggressive sexism, microaggressive gender assumption, intersectional low self-image of y/n, positive/supportive families, nondescript mention of gagging (not related to self-image) in [III.iii], sexually charged 18+ interactions in middle to end of [III.iv]—minors dni, please stop at the end of the paragraph that begins "you repeat his words with sped up mockery"; you may resume at "you jut out your hip"

word count:  15.7k (of 38.8k)

story context:  everything in s1 and s2 of the tv series is canon for this story except for the s2 epilogue with the bridgertons.  this story takes place leading up to and into the 1815 season. 

additional notes:  this story is incomplete. scenes that are not written are described in chevrons <> with third person pov or are delineated by isolated ellipses. additionally, the author has only watched s2!  she has not watched any of s1 aside from clips, and they have not read the books aside from quotes used in edits.  they have not yet watched queen charlotte.  the author kinda knows the gist of an offer from a gentleman; they are familiar with sophie beckett (and are excited to meet her/them in the tv series!).

author’s note:  this is the first time the author has written fanfic in 13-15 years.  :)  it is her hope that they have made some progress since her pre/teens.  additionally, this fanfic has been written, on and off, over the course of two years.  the author sincerely hopes you find some sort of joy in it, especially the readers who maybe hope to see themself a little more specifically in the world we so love.

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @stvrdustalexx @bedobeeeee @crazymar15 @kahhorri @mayalopes @benedictbridgertonss @athensflower @02wrldz @queerlavalier @merlslrem @pillsbury-doughgirl @lamourdure3ans and all who have read either/both sections one and two—thank you. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.i ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“you look like a princess, y/n!” hyacinth squeals in delight.

“i regret not being of age yet to attend balls,” gregory sighs.  “i would have been honored to ask you for your first dance.”

you beam at the youngest bridgertons with all the fondness in your heart.  judith, an elderly maid of number five, had attempted to dispel hyacinth and gregory from the room as your hair was done, but you had asked her to please allow them to stay.  the two kept you at ease throughout the foreign process, and their sweet sincerity kept you grounded amidst the anxiety that still floods your veins.

“you are both too kind.  and fear not; tomorrow morning we will have a ball all of our own,” you lean in for a whisper, them following suit to listen.  “and perhaps we will need the talents, and bravery, of a young sorceress and a young knight to save the guests from the intrusion of an unruly wyvern.”

“you promise?!” hyacinth and gregory yell at the same time.  you hold out your pinky finger, just as you used to do with your siblings, and the two young ones wrap their pinkies around yours.

“i promise.”

“you are all done, miss y/l/n,” says alice, placing the last pin into your hair.  she steps back and curtsies.  her formality towards you renders you uneasy; she treats you as above her but you are of the same world.  you school your facial features from showing your unease; you do not want to upset her or have her wrongly think that she has done something wrong.

“no need to call me ‘miss.’  i am simply y/n!”  you grin at alice.  “a friend.”

she smiles, albeit a bit sheepishly. 

“of course, y/n.  are you ready to see yourself?”

you shudder in a breath.  you had asked not to be prepared in front of a mirror.  to have seen your transformation so readily reflected at you at every point of this process—

you exhale frantically.  the maids and genevieve had graciously accommodated your wishes, both going so far as rearranging this room and her fitting room to avoid any lines of your sight with a potential reflection; you were, and are, utterly grateful.  

but i am unable to delay the inevitable any longer.

standing up and squaring your shoulders, you give alice a feeble nod.  she bows her head in response, a small, encouraging smile on her lips, and leads you to the mirror as hyacinth and gregory turn in their seats to watch you cross the room.  

it is just a dress.  it is just a tiara, and just some jewelry, and just some gloves, and just some shoes, and just a bit of makeup.  it is just you.  it is still you.  be the courageous person you are, y/n.

or—

just before you see even a miniscule bit of your reflection in that accursed mirror, you shut your eyes tight.

—be a coward.

you continue step by agonizing step, approximating where the mirror is, and shudder in another breath.

perhaps i am being too dramatic.  perhaps i can faint and feign illness.  perhaps i shall run away by way of the nearest window.  perhaps i—

“the mirror is to your left, y/n; whenever you are ready,” coaxes alice.

you exhale once more.

or perhaps, i should open my eyes.

and so you do.

oh.

“oh,” you say aloud.

the person you see in the gilded full-length mirror is, somehow, a complete stranger and entirely you.

the one time you’ve worn makeup before was for your elder sister’s wedding:  a bit of your mother’s rouge on your cheeks and lips to have some color to your otherwise dull face.  now, your cheekbones glow with a blush much more complimentary to your complexion than a mere red as your lips shine with a gossamer of a similar shade.  entirely new to you are the glimmering minerals on your eyelids that magically bring attention to your eyes and make them shine like starlight.

your eyebrows have been plucked (much to your initial pain but your current appreciation), maintaining their shape and fullness but now without strays.  

soft tendrils of curls frame your face, and your hair—normally worn down when not working—has been pulled back into a loose coiffure and styled with sprigs and small blooms, the crown of your head graced with a silver tiara.

“this,” violet smiled fondly when she first set the tiara on top of your head, “is the tiara i wore to my first ball after my presentation.  i had insisted on keeping it, thinking i could pass it on to my daughter when her first ball had come.  but daphne was resolute on having her own tiara, and eloise was resolute on not wearing any,” violet laughed, her eyes shining when they connected with yours, “i see now, though, perhaps it was always meant to be yours.”

“violet, i— i cannot wear this.  it is too— it’s too—”

sumptuous?  opulent?  regal?  

no.

well, yes, the tiara is all those things.  but those were not what had concerned you then.  it’s too—

“beautiful,” you admitted quietly.

something as beautiful as that surely does not belong on the head of someone like you.

“well,” violet smiled, “then you are merely proving my point, my dear.  it perfectly suits you.”

you hold out your hands, flare out your fingers, and stretch out your arms, examining the dark forest green of your long satin gloves, mesmerized that a muted color with such depth and richness could be achieved through dyes.

moving your hand, you touch one of the small rosewhite pearls adorning your earlobes and, with your other hand, touch the inky oblong pearl that shimmers violet, indigo, and green as it hangs from the thin, black velvet choker around your neck.

“my dear,” mama appeared in your doorway one evening as you wrote at your table, “do you require jewelry for your occasion?”

“oh.  i suppose i do?  i hadn’t given it much thought.”  jewelry had been the last thing on your mind of things that terrified you of the impending ball.

“well, if you have not been offered anything by the bridgerton family yet, i thought— i thought perhaps you might like these.”

she approached you, a small wooden box in her hand, and placed it on your table.  taking the box into your hands, you looked at it and then up at mama.  she smiled at you but something of her countenance seemed strained.  nervous.  you offered her a smile in an attempt to assuage whatever concerns preoccupied her mind and, turning back to the box, unclasped it open.

“these are the earrings and necklace i wore when i married your papa.  they were gifts from your grandmama that were gifts from her mama.  i had tried giving them to your sister when she was to be married, but she thought…  they are plain, nothing like what those fashionable people wear, i am certain; but if you have nothing else, i—”

you shot up from your seat, throwing your arms around your mama, feeling how she reeled from the ferocity of your sudden embrace, as you clutched onto the box of her wedding jewelry.

“they are beautiful, mama,” you said quietly but emphatically as the vehemence of your emotions tried to trap your words in your throat.  “they are the most beautiful things i have ever seen, and i am so— i am so honored to be bestowed with the blessing of wearing them, and of wearing them proudly.  thank you.”

you heard how mama sniffed her nose, and how she tried to hide it, as she gently rubbed your back, as she always had in your moments of vulnerability.

“i love you, my child.”

“i love you, mama.”

you then touch your exposed shoulders.  the neckline of your dress, nowhere near your neck, follows the curved peaks of your breasts to meet and form a small v-shape in the crevice of your bosom.  

“where is the chemise?” was the first thing you had said when you first tried on the gown at the modiste.

genevieve grinned.

“there is none.”

your jaw dropped.

“then what of a stay?  what sort of stay would be worn with this?”

turning slightly, and noting your rather bare upper arms in the process, you angle your exposed back towards the mirror.  another v-shape, its furthest point down a third of your bare spine.  

“my dear, both you and i know that you already know the answer to your inquiry.”

“oh, my good g—”

never, in your life, has the expanse of your upper body been so naked and on display than in this ball gown.

“i do not mean to doubt your artistry, genevieve; truly!, the dress is magnificent, but—” you turned to kathani, who had exclaimed and clapped with immense delight upon seeing you in the gown, “is this—— permissible?”

the viscountess had arched an eyebrow at you then.

“y/n y/l/n, concerned with the rules of society?  and of high society, at that?”

“no— no!” you yelled all too loudly as genevieve chortled and placed pins for final alterations into the dress.  “i just, i just do not want to embarrass you and your family, is all.”

you had not meant for your voice to come out so quiet and small.  the older women’s faces softened immediately.

“you could never embarrass us, y/n,” kathani stated with such tenderness.  then she smiled.  “you look beautiful.”

the off-white base layer of the dress feels luxurious against your skin, the fabric hugging your upper body, puffing out at the sleeves, and, from the underbust, flowing and falling into a cone silhouette for the skirt—but what truly awes you is the artistry of the outermost layer.  a cream translucent silk, the piña seda (you recall genevieve proudly naming it as) of the outermost layer glistens while you sway and turn your body, light shifting and transforming the ever beauty of the dress, the swish of the skirt moving like how waves are described in the passages of your books and in the reminiscing of your parents’ memories.  lined at the underbust begins the intricate thicket of embroidered foliage, painstakingly threaded with innumerable shades of greens and blues, a shimmering teal threaded throughout to gleam in tandem with the sheen of the fabric.  the embroidery of foliage then grows and thickens as it cascades down the middle of the dress and comes to an encircling end a few inches above and around the floor-length hem.  in the negative space of the piña seda are spread out, small ivory embroideries of floral motifs.  

it is a dress deserving of someone most beloved in titania’s garden court. 

“indeed,” genevieve affirmed, a smile on her lips akin to kathani’s.  “those in attendance will not be prepared.  you will look the most beautiful of all.”

and perhaps…

perhaps you should be unnerved by how different your dress will be from the others’ of the ton.  perhaps you should be unnerved by how easily you will stand out from the crowds.  perhaps you should be unnerved by the attention, the whispers, the stares you will inevitably receive with your dress, with your appearance, with your presence, with your very existence.  but, instead— 

“i do look like a princess,” you say finally.  quietly. 

you do look beautiful.

like you could belong amidst the ton.  

like you could belong with the bridgertons.  

like you could belong with him.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.ii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

“are you anxious, y/n?”

you turn to gregory at your side and see the swell of worry in his eyes.

“what gives you that impression?”

“you are shaking terribly,” hyacinth comments from your other side, replacing her usual pluck and wit with a worry akin to her brother’s.  

the two had volunteered to escort you from the dressing room that you had been prepared in to the grand staircase of number five.  with their arms hooked around yours, gregory on your left and hyacinth on your right, the youngest bridgertons have been walking you down the corridor.  your heart aches with anguish:  you know you have failed when the children are the ones to care for the adult.

“i am sorry to have concerned you both.  yes, i— i am anxious.”

“it is reasonable to be anxious.  but there are a great many cakes at these balls, or so i’ve heard, so you can eat one, and then another, to help ease your nerves!”

“how is that of any help, gregory.”

“it is plenty of help!”

“to eat and eat when she is already uneasy?  the last time you were uneasy, you nearly—”

“do not recount that in front of y/n!”

“why not!”

“it is not— it is not proper!”  gregory’s voice jumps in pitch, causing a swift blush to form on the apples of his cheeks.  hyacinth snorts.

“why does your voice do that?”

“i do not know!  kate said it is natural for bo— for young men to experience such a thing!”

“aren’t young men meant to be tall?”

“i am an inch taller than you now!”

“you are not!”

“i am too!”

you laugh.  the youngest bridgertons halt their dispute and look at you. 

“i must say, your usual squabbling is keeping me much at ease,” and you offer a sympathetic smile to gregory.  “i am sorry that it seems to be at your expense, however.”

his eyes shine.

“you need not worry about me!  i am glad to see you smile.”

“i as well,” hyacinth adds.  you turn to her and see how her eyes shine too. 

“i am most grateful to you both for being at my side on such a night.”

“we are most grateful for you, y/n.”

“that is something, and probably the singular thing, hyacinth and i can agree upon.”

you plant soft kisses on the tops of their heads, just as mama and papa and your elder sister had done when you were their ages.  gregory and hyacinth nestle their heads into your upper arms and only part from you when the three of you reach the top of the first set of steps.  

“are you ready?” 

though you wish to say ‘no,’ you brace yourself with a deep inhale and nod.

your heart quickens with each step as time around you slows.  your mouth has gone dry, and your body feels entirely numb, sensation only returning to you when you feel hyacinth and gregory unhook their arms from yours.  turning your head, you see them stepping backwards, away from you, leaving you at the center of the landing to the rest of the grand staircase.  you face forward once more, and ahead, below, you see the gentlemen and ladies of bridgerton house, waiting for you, looking at you.  

you swallow. 

for the very first time, in your dress, by yourself, you take a step forward.

breathe, y/n.  shoulders back; tilt your chin up, but not too much; just as kathani had taught you.  and just, breathe.

but it is hard to breathe with all eyes on you.  with—

i must control myself.   i must not seek him out.  i must not seek out his face.  i must not seek out those o—

you step on the hem of your dress and feel yourself start to fall forward.  thankfully, god, for whatever reason, has blessed you with enough dexterity in this very moment, and you manage to catch yourself from tumbling down the steps as you hear gasps from above and below you.  you mumble an apology (you don’t know why; it is not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear) and offer everyone a smile.  upon seeing their relaxed shoulders and reassured expressions, you continue to descend the staircase.

stupid benedict.  distracting me in remembering how to walk, and how to breathe, and how to— 

oh.  

i am doing it again.

shit.

goddamnit, stupid benedict!

somehow, you reach the landing of number five’s entrance hall without any additional accidents and, approaching the bridgertons, immediately look to the viscountess.  as if knowing you seek her approval, kathani nods her head; a beam illuminates her countenance.  you feel yourself ease, your shoulders relaxing (that you promptly square again; you are, after all, pretending to be a lady for the night), your heart racing less, if only minutely, and manage a smile.  you feel someone take hold of your gloved hand and, turning to face the source, see violet gazing at you. 

“beautiful.”

it is all she says, but with such tenderness in her voice, it makes your heart swell.

“the importance of appearance,” rasps eloise, causing you to turn to her, “and the lengths gone to achieve so-called perfection of such, especially for those of feminine disposition, is an entirely antiquated, offensive concept that must be eradicated from our, and all, societies—— but you do, look, beautiful, y/n.”

you grin. 

“we’ll eradicate it together; and with help along the way, i am certain.”

when she responds in kind, you turn to the gentlemen, and, to your mortification, colin and anthony bow at you.  the high society etiquette directed towards you from your friends overwhelms you with an embarrassment that you cannot even begin to fathom; they haven’t performed such formalities towards you since your first meeting all those months ago.  but, in spite of your horror, the sincerity of their intentions, as well as their countenances, touches you deeply.

“madame delacroix and the maids have outdone themselves,” remarks anthony.  “as mother and eloise have said, you look beautiful, y/n.”

“indeed,” colin beams.  when he turns to benedict, however, his smile transforms into an expression befitting of a fairytale creature; one with mischievous intentions.  “what say you, brother?”

you follow his line of sight and connect with ocean eyes.  the flood of self-consciousness and the tempo of your heartbeats magnify hundredfold under his gaze, the butterflies within you fluttering the most violently they ever have, and you feel as though your entire body has been set ablaze.

anthony, with what looks like a smirk, nudges his brother with his elbow.  as if suddenly aware of where he is, benedict hastily bows at you and, returning his ocean eyes to yours, says,

“you look— well.”

you hear eloise snort.  turning your head towards her, you see she has completely sucked in her lips.  to her left, kathani smiles massively.  to kathani’s left, violet remains ever poised but with wide, sparkling eyes.  you still feel self-conscious but are infinitely amused by whatever is happening to the bridgertons and, with a playful smile on your lips, return your gaze to benedict.

“thank you, mr. bridgerton.  i had felt uneasy with an unnerved stomach earlier, but i am glad to know that my health appears to be in proper order.”

and you deeply curtsy at him. 

from above you hear the sweet giggles of the youngest bridgertons.  ahead, in your periphery, you see how anthony closes his eyes as he sucks in air through his nostrils and how colin, with an unabashed laugh, clasps his hand onto benedict’s shoulder.

“well!” anthony booms, attempting to control his smile on what ought to be an authoritative expression. “i believe we have a ball to commence.  shall you lead the way, viscountess?”

and with an expression both equal in authority and warmth, kathani declares,

“i shall.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

you had grown ease of mind knowing that you would not be asked to dance.  not only were you a stranger to everyone in the ton aside from the bridgertons and penelope, you were also not handsome like the debutantes flitting about the room, swishing prettily in their gowns, strategically but delicately fluttering their eyes at a gentleman with which they wished to dance.  with anonymity and a plain face, you enjoyed the haven of people observing, snickering at the artifice and smiling at the sincerity.  kathani chatting with her guests.  anthony standing by her side.  penelope dancing with colin.  eloise hiding behind a plant.  violet beaming at her family.  (you tried to convince yourself that you had not noticed the absence of a particular person.)  your nerves have finally begun to calm, finding content in your station at the margins of the dance floor.

when colin bridgerton approaches you, hand outstretched in your direction, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“miss y/l/n, may you do me the honor?”

“i’m sorry, what?”

he laughs.

“will you dance with me?”

you gape at him.

“you’re mad.”

“my mind is perfectly intact.”

“this is unwise.”

“this is the best decision i have made this night.”

“i shall surely step on your toes.”

“i have worn my sturdiest shoes for the occasion.”

the corners of your mouth tug down into a moue at the third bridgerton’s stubborn charm.  his grin merely widens as your eyes narrow to slits at him.  penelope approaches from behind the beguiling imp and smiles warmly at you.

“it will be fun,” she encourages. “i promise.”

penelope!  no!

“et tu, brute?” you bemoan.

she shrugs.

“what is a ball without dancing?” penelope offers.  sweet innocence colors her voice, but the delighted glint in her eyes reveals her true duplicitous nature.  she knew exactly how to play the game of this conversation, no doubt a devious plot concocted between her and her beau.

you sigh.

“fine,” you huff, slapping your hand into colin’s palm.  “i would be honored, mr. bridgerton.”

the diabolical duo laughs at the sarcasm that drips from your words as colin leads you to the lineup on the dance floor.  

–

“how is the dance treating you, miss y/l/n?” 

“i hate you.” 

colin guffaws.  (you see in your periphery how heads shift towards him and how eyes narrow at you.  the partner you had just left looks at you with particular scrutiny.)

“if your hatred towards me is the cost of you enjoying the ball, then it is a burden i shall carry, and happily so.” 

“has anyone ever told you how infuriating you bridgertons are?” 

“no, but we very well know that we are,” he grins, “and we take immense pride in it.”

you groan, throwing your head back.  (you hear murmurs around you.  not ladylike.)

“are you truly not having fun?”  the gentleness in his voice makes you look back at him.  his expression is soft.  sad.  guilty.  “we can leave the lineup, if that is what you would like.” 

you consider his words and his offer.

“i am having fun,” you reply truthfully.  his eyes light up at that and your heart warms at the sight.  “it is just— being in a circumstance so wholly unfamiliar— it’s overwhelming, is all, i think.  but…” you feel a smile form on your lips, “knowing that you all—as infuriating as you bridgertons are—are here with me, by my side, wanting me to enjoy myself, wanting me to be happy, it makes all the overwhelming feeling worthwhile.  i am happy.  you all make me happy.”

colin doesn’t say anything.  he just stares at you as the two of you dance still.  you are about to inquire—

“i am grateful to call you my friend, y/n.  becoming your friend has been one of the greatest blessings to have been bestowed upon me and my family.”

you suck in a breath. 

as is becoming yours has been one of mine.

but another thought also lives in your mind.  so, on the exhale of your breath, you smirk.

“only second to falling in love with penelope, yes?”

he laughs, an uncharacteristic shy smile forming on his lips as he looks at his feet and then back at you, eyes shining incandescently.

“i hope you do not take offense to being second.”

“being second to penelope is truly, sincerely, still a victory in of itself.  you are very blessed, indeed, to be her premier.”

you did not think colin’s eyes could shine brighter than they had mere moments prior, but you suppose— no, you are certain that this is the effect that the love of penelope featherington has on the third eldest bridgerton:  the light in colin’s eyes is absolute radiance.

“‘very blessed’ is to put it very lightly.”

with unabashed grins, you and colin continue to dance.  you have to walk most of the steps, often keeping good on your promise and stepping on his toes, but your partner is deterred neither by your incompetence nor by his injuries.  the two of you laugh (drawing leers from the other guests, you notice but brush off) and end your dance with exaggerated flourishes of a curtsy and a bow to one another.

“you underestimate your dancing skills, miss y/l/n,” colin remarks with a beam.

“see if you feel the same after tending to your bruises, mr. bridgerton,” you beam back.

“colin bridgerton!”

you both whip your gazes to the call of colin’s name and see a man fastly, eagerly approaching.

“hastings!” 

hastings?  why does that sound familiar? 

colin and the absurdly handsome man embrace, smiles broad and sincere. 

“i was uncertain you would be joining us on this occasion.”

“we would have seen to arriving early, as we had intended, but augie is proving to be quite unpredictable with his tantrums as of late.”

“he must take after his uncles,” colin smirks with odd pride.  that makes the other man chuckle.

“unfortunately, it seems to be so.”

he then shifts his gaze onto you.  his expression is curious and— sweet?  kindly.  you feel yourself become rather self-conscious as you notice, in your periphery, colin assuming a posture of gentlemanliness.

“my apologies for my dreadful manners.  simon, this is miss y/n y/l/n.  y/n, this is simon basset.”

simon bows most graciously at you.

“good evening, miss y/l/n.  it is a true pleasure to finally meet you.  i am simon basset, daphne’s husband.”

daphne?  

as in daphne bridgerton?

you recall the day you and benedict toured the art gallery:  a portrait, a fairly recent one, it seemed, of a beautiful young woman and a beautiful young man—the duchess and the duke of hastings, the plaque read.

your jaw drops.

“you are the duke!”  you remember the etiquette kathani taught you.  “your grace!”  and you sloppily curtsy.

simon laughs.

“that is hardly necessary.  please, if you feel comfortable in doing so, call me simon.”

“yes— of course!, your— simon,” you compose yourself.  “and you may call me y/n; i would prefer it, actually.”

simon grins.

“then, y/n, may i have the honor of having your next dance?”

your jaw drops again, your composure completely falling away.  you look at simon, who is utterly amused by your reaction, and then to colin, who is utterly delighted by the turn of events, and back to simon.

“that is a mistake.”

that earns guffaws from both of the men.  (you feel stares falling upon them and, once again, scowls falling upon you.)  

“i am more than willing to make that discovery for myself, if you will allow it.”

you throw back your head (ignoring the additional glares shot your way) and, with a sigh, whip it back to look at simon with a fatigued, but earnest, smile.

“i shall allow it.”

colin bows his head at you, his grin having never left his countenance since the end of your dance together, and steps to the side as you place your hand into simon’s outstretched one and are led to the next lineup by the duke.

–

“has the duchess accompanied you to the ball this evening?”

“while it is poor courtesy to speak on behalf of my wife when she can speak for herself, i can say, with confidence, that she would much rather you call her daphne.”

“kathani had taught me your society’s etiquette in preparation for the ball, in the event it would be necessary,” you roll your eyes.  “while i find it all utterly ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary for me in particular, i want to honor the knowledge that my teacher has bestowed upon me as a way to honor her.”

simon grins.

“you are a dedicated student.  indeed, she is in attendance.  the last i had seen her, she was tending to benedict.”

your heart sinks.

oh no.

“tending to benedict?  is he unwell?  did something happen?  is he all right?”

you hear how your voice rises in pitch and grows louder and more frantic with each word.  (you try not to care for the stares that you feel on you.  they are not of importance right now——or ever.)

is that why i have not seen him all night?  because he is in poor condition?  shall i leave the ball?  shall i see where he is being tended to?  shall i—

“y/n?”

oh.  yes.  you were having a conversation with simon.

“sorry, what did you say?”

“i had said that i did not mean to worry you,” simon says sincerely, but there is something in his smile.  not suspicious, neither mocking nor teasing.  it is as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotion.  “i simply mean that she is speaking with him and— encouraging him, is all.”

you feel the entirety of your body, mind, heart, and soul ease; but now, you are perplexed.

“encouraging him?  whatever for?”

“i had not stayed with them long enough to hear the details of their conversation; i had sought you out rather immediately.”

“me!”

the dance had timed perfectly that upon receiving such information, you are forced to turn to another partner (who is unnerved to have you as a temporary companion).  when you reunite with simon, his chuckling has mostly subsided.

“indeed.  the viscount had encouraged me to ask you for a dance.  the viscountess then stated that you required the practice.”

“i—— am utterly lacking in words in how to respond to that.”

“if it is of any comfort to you, it was something i had already intended on doing.”

“that is, rather strange?”

he grins.

“i can see how that is so from your perspective, yes.  but from mine,” and it surprises you how suddenly simon’s countenance softens, “i had to find out for myself how wonderful this y/n y/l/n is to have so easily won the affections of all the bridgertons at number five.  daff and i, as well as francesca, were becoming quite jealous that we did not have the good fortune to spend time with you as the rest of the family has had.”

“the family has… spoken of me?”

“in these past months of knowing you, you have become their most beloved topic of conversation.  hyacinth and gregory idolize how resplendent of a storyteller you are.  eloise adores being challenged by your intellect.  colin aspires to your ferocity of quick wit.  kate cherishes every discussion you share together.  anthony reveres your unwavering resolve.  violet becomes overcome with delight at every recounting of a memory in which you are involved.  and benedict…”

you swallow.

“yes?” 

you hear how feeble and quiet your voice has become.  

“never stops speaking of you; so much so that it would be impossible to abridge what he loves in you.”

you shut your eyes closed at the words “he loves” and attempt to control the tears that threaten to flow at the word “you.”  

the love he has for you is not the love you have for him.

“i— i did not know that they held me in such high regard,” you whisper.

you flutter your eyes open, grateful that no tears have fallen, and are greeted by the gentlest of smiles from simon.  it assuages your soul.

“the highest of regards.  they care very deeply for you.”

“and i care very deeply for them,” you declare softly.  you then feel yourself break out into a smile.  “i cannot say the same for you, yet, but i can see it forthcoming.”

simon throws his head back with a loud laugh, your smile transforming into a large grin (as you ignore the scowls that fall upon you).  simon whips his head back to you, and he too wears a large grin.

“i am honored that you see the potential within me.”

with a final spin, you and simon release the other’s hand, ending the dance in a curtsy and a bow, both of your grins non-faltering.

“thank you for bestowing me the honor of dancing with you.”

you snort.  (you hear scoffs and other suppressed noises of disapproval.)

“i fail to see how much of an honor it is to have someone incessantly knock into you, but if such is your feeling,” you curtsy with much theatricality and, upon your rise, let out a sigh of relief.  “now, i shall retire to the margins once more.”

simon, once again, looks as if he is withholding the full expression of his emotions, but in it you detect— delight?  you narrow your eyes.

“what?”

“you are not meant for the margins, y/n; please forgive me,” and with that, simon bows, his smile still non-faltering, and turns to leave you in the middle of the dance floor.

you are about to call out his name, curious and agitated by his vagueness—

“y/n?”

you turn around to the familiar voice and are greeted by a smiling anthony.

“oh no.  are you going to ask me for the honor of having my next dance?”

the viscount looks as if he is about to howl with laughter and attempts to mask it, poorly, with his absurdly elated smile.

“is the idea of dancing with me truly so appalling?”

“the idea of dancing more is what i find so appalling.”

“i shan’t force you to do anything you do not want to do.”

“but how will your pride take it?”

this time anthony fully howls (earning looks of confusion at the host and their looks, predictably, turning to glares when they trace the impropriety back to you).

“i am always working on humbling myself,” he says, his expression softening.  “i assure you that i, as well as my pride, can manage your rejection if it means that you are happy.  you need not worry about my well-being.”

these damned bridgertons, and their damned charm, and their damned sincerity.

despite your internal accusations, you smile.  you offer your hand (hearing a gasp or a few around you), and beaming, anthony takes it.

–

“you look like a princess, y/n!”

the saccharine words of hyacinth echo in your mind.  with the transmutative magics of your fairy godmothers in mama, violet, kathani, genevieve, judith, alice, and the maids of bridgerton house, the impossible was made possible:  you look like a princess.  but it is not until this very moment, after descending a regal staircase, after entering this enchanting ball, after dancing with two dashing gentlemen and now a third, that you feel like a princess.  you recall how you and your siblings played imagination; how you often asked to be the princess; how you did it so often that mama sewed you a dress from scraps of fabric and papa crafted you a crown out of discarded branches and your elder sister announced you as princess y/n whenever you played and your younger sibling waltzed with you around the first floor of your home.  it makes you elated with childlike wonder how fortunate you are to be here and how lovely it is to be here, how strange and wonderful it is that imagination has become real life; as if it is all a wish for which you did not know you had wished, a wish that you did not know you had wanted to come true until it came true.

but—

“is there something on your mind, y/n?” you hear anthony ask, sometime after returning to him as your partner.  “you seem pensive.”

“ah, yes.  despite my gripes with you, and your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—”

“i gave you an option not to do so!”

“i am not finished speaking!”

he huffs out air through his nostrils, waiting with what seems to be a morsel of patience for you to continue.

“despite my gripes with you, your brother, and your brother-in-law insisting on dancing with me—” anthony gives you a tired look that of an older sibling; you grin, “i am enjoying myself.  i just wish, i just wish my family could be here with me, to enjoy it too.”

anthony’s expression softens immediately, and it makes your heart tighten.  you know with what gravity, duty, and love he looks after the entirety of his family; you have witnessed it at every given second since becoming his friend.  if someone were to be with you as you navigate this pain, you are glad that it is anthony.

“we shall invite them to the next ball we host,” he declares.  your jaw drops.  “it was a lack of foresight on my part for not doing so for this occasion, and i shan’t make that error again.”

you try to do rough estimations of what costs that would entail for the bridgertons— dresses and coats and shoes and four to six sets of two abstained days of work at least.

“anthony, i cannot possibly ask you to—”

“you did not ask,” he grins.  “i offered.  and i do so wholeheartedly.  it shall not be a trouble for us, just strategic planning as kathani and i work the books.  and before you protest—” you frown, both disappointed and flattered that anthony could sense your retaliation, “it is something i—as well as the rest of the family, i am certain—wish to do.  if you won’t consider it for yourself and your family, then perhaps consider it as a gift to us selfish bridgertons.” 

that makes you laugh loudly as you feel tears form in your eyes (whispers of you be damned).  expression turning gentle once more, anthony continues,

“it would be an honor to finally meet your family.  if they are even an inkling like you, then they must be truly wonderful, indeed.”

with a small sniffle of your nose and all the gratitude in your heart, you smile.

“they are.  they are truly wonderful.  i love them so much.”

anthony smiles in return with a nod of his head.

“then it is settled.”

“you are a good brother, anthony.”

you have wondered often if that is something anthony knows.  while the bridgertons’ love for one another is apparent in all that they do and say and breathe, you haven’t heard them say very complimentary things to one another, particularly to the eldest.  it is typical of families to tease and to jest, you know that intimately, but you also know how important, then, it is to tell your family what you truly think of them, how you truly feel of them.  they ought to know just how much they are loved.

though his overall demeanor is composed and dignified, the softness in anthony’s eyes reveals his true emotion.

“and you are a good sibling, y/n.”

< their dance eventually comes to an end.  someone approaches them. >

“good evening, brother,” benedict turns his ocean eyes to you.  “good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.”

you vaguely hear something in your periphery.  you turn to it and see a brilliant grin lighting up the viscount’s countenance.

“huh?”

“i had said that the viscountess is calling me over to her.  i must pardon myself.”

“oh.  yes.  farewell, anthony.”

his grin broadens, dimples forming in his cheeks, and he bows.  you see how, as he brings himself upright, his eyes shift towards his brother, the delight in his grin never leaving but something in his eyes… softening?  before you can fully process it, he has turned and now walks towards kathani.

you turn back to benedict.

“i—— good evening, y/n.”

“good evening, benedict.  though, we have already greeted each other this night, just moments ago.”

“ah, yes— that—— that would be correct.  and— is… correct.”

he is anxious.  your heart aches at the sight, and you want to reach out and touch him, comfort him, ease whatever his concerns are—but you refrain.

benedict clears his throat.

“are you— are you enjoying yourself?”

while heavy by benedict’s current state, your heart cannot help but glow brighter at his question.

“yes, tremendously so.  the dancing has been plenty fun, despite how horrendous i am at it.”

that makes benedict laugh, and relief floods your body, mind, soul, and heart.  it is good to hear him laugh.  to see him smile.

“i do not think you are as horrendous as you think you are.  your form has been quite good.”

you cock your head, feeling the scrunch of your eyebrows and the smirk on your lips.

“you have been observing me?”

his jaw drops, his body stiffening again.  suddenly shy, he looks at his shoes and, with a cough, looks back up at you, and you attempt to hold in your gasp.

how.  

how is that, after all this time, he makes these butterflies within me flutter still.

“i— i do not have a clever diversion for that.  yes; yes, i have.  i suppose i have been building the— the courage within myself.”

“‘the courage’?  the courage for what?”

he swallows.

“to ask you to dance with me.”

oh.

“oh.”

he looks… he looks scared.  exposed.  vulnerable.

you feel them within yourself, too.

he offers his hand.

“may i dance with you, y/n?”

you place your hand in his.

“yes.  yes, you may, benedict.”

i am terrified of nothing else and would love nothing more than to dance with you.

benedict leads you to the floor, his ocean eyes never leaving yours, your eyes never leaving his.

the quartet starts up, and you detect how it is music for a waltz.  of all the dances you were taught, even you can admit that you were best at learning the waltz.  

…

you curtsy as he bows.  benedict places his hand on your waist, and you try not to elicit your gasp from feeling his touch.

< their dance commences.  they are silent.  a lot of staring and shit.

< notably, y/n is not cognizant of the ton’s perception of her while she dances with benedict as she had been with her previous partners.  it seems her sole focus in this moment is dancing with benedict, being with benedict.  her heart, mind, body, and soul is with him.

< y/n’s mind goes Rampant when benedict places his hand on her exposed shoulder. >

do not close your eyes, you reprimand yourself.  if you close your eyes, you will indulge.  you will indulge in this sensation.  in this touch.  in his touch.  in benedict’s bare hand on the expanse of your exposed skin.  in imagination.  in fantasies.  in thoughts.  in other thoughts on other parts of your body that you so, so very much want him to—

“i had not spoken properly.”

you try not to shudder a gasp upon hearing his voice.

“pardon?” you say, a bit breathless.  the dance calling for it, benedict twirls you, and you are now face to face again.

“earlier; when i had commented on your appearance, i had said you looked well.”

you snort, recalling the peculiar word choice, and that earns a smile from benedict.

“what i had meant to say is—“ he swallows, “you look beautiful, y/n.”

“i think,” you respond perhaps too swiftly, “that is testimony to genevieve’s skill and not to my appearance.”

“i think genevieve only enhances what is already there.”

you want to change, you don’t want to change— you do want to change the topic.  you cannot handle whatever— whatever benedict is insinuating.  the indecipherable, intense, attentive gaze of his ocean eyes on you.  it is so much; it is too much.

“she spoke of you.”

shit.  why did i say that?

his face immediately falls, ocean eyes transforming with it.

shit.

“genevieve spoke of me?  with you?  why?”

“kathani had accompanied me to the modiste, and i had shared with genevieve how i became acquainted with penelope and the bridgertons,” you half-truth.  “talking about the family, and then you, was a natural consequence.”

“what did she say?  about me?”

you try not to wince at the urgency in his voice.

“she shared how you and she had— an intimate and passionate acquaintance,” you divulge, using the words your friend had to describe the artists’ relationship.  perhaps you imagine the sensation, but you feel benedict wince as you dance.  “and that it was brief and no more.”

“she said that?  ‘brief and no more’?”

“indeed.”

he sighs.  you detect relief in the exhale, but perhaps you had, once again, imagined it.  you always had an active imagination; trying to bend what you perceive to what you wish was real.

“i see,” is all benedict says.

“do you care for her?” you inquire.  it is truly masochistic, what you are doing.  but you cannot help yourself.  it is something you often do when benedict is near.  when you and he are so close.

there is a small silence.

“i did.  at least, i think i did,” he shares. “i was hurt when our— acquaintance came to an end, but i was not heartbroken.  i had known nothing of heartbreak, not until—”

and he suddenly stops speaking, sucking in his lips.

“until?”

“nothing.  nevermind.  forget i had said anything,” he says all too quickly.  you laugh, and he scrunches his face in adorable disapproval at you.

“well, that only makes me the more curious, benedict!  the mystery of it, and your very clear blush, indicate it must have been quite the event.”

“i am not blushing!”

“you cannot lie about something i can literally see.”

“you are infuriating.”

“and what do you think you are?”

benedict just pouts at you, though you see the twinkle in his ocean eyes.  you want the twinkle to be of affection, but you will settle for amusement.  for friendship.  you take pride in how you can elicit this reaction out of him.  you take joy in how he can elicit this reaction out of you.  you love him, and you are grateful that is something you can say and know and feel.  even if he does not love you as you love him.

“the first time i felt heartbreak,” he begins, finally giving in.  you perk up in anticipation.  “was when— was when you had walked out of the house after i had crumpled the paper to the floor.”

you nearly stop in your tracks, halting your waltz with benedict entirely, until you find a way to recover and continue the steps with him.  he is looking intently at you, waiting for your response.  you inhale a breath and on the exhale say,

“oh.”

it is a pathetic response, but it is the only one you can muster at this moment.  breath has entirely left your lungs, your heart palpitates at a maddening rate, the lightning of benedict’s touch and proximity magnifying at every passing second.

“i had hurt you, this person whom i—” he swallows, “whom i care for, deeply and completely.  i was, and am, ashamed of my deed and the arrogant thoughts and beliefs that led me to do it.”

“i have long forgiven you for that, benedict.”

“it is something of which i am not deserving.”

“you cannot tell me what to think or do,” you challenge, arching an eyebrow at him to add levity to the conversation.  benedict smiles, despite himself, and it makes your body flood with relief and joy. 

“i would never dare.”

“as you shouldn’t,” you grin, then inhaling and exhaling through your nostrils.  “you need not flagellate yourself for what you did.  that accomplishes nothing, and guilt is entirely useless in the structures that be,” you say resolutely.  more softly, you continue.  “my forgiveness is something i gave you willingly because it is what i truly wanted.  because i knew, and know, how you wish to do better.  i see that in everything you do; in your art, in your character.  it is something i admire in you.”

benedict simply stares at you, his ocean eyes impossible to decipher again.  his gaze is overwhelming, but you refuse to break it.

“i was about to say how undeserving i am of your compassion,” he says, “but then swiftly realized you would have just admonished me.”

you laugh.

“you were correct in thinking so, yes.”

he looks at you still, his expression still impossible to decipher, but there is something soft about it.

“thank you, y/n.”

the butterflies within you flutter once more.

“and if you ever wish to discard your paper again,” you diverge from your feelings, “simply hand it to me.  i am always in need of more.”

he laughs fully, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and you feel the flutterings violently rage within.  perhaps diversion was not the wisest choice (or perhaps it was, if it meant that you were the one to make benedict laugh like that).

“i have gotten quite good at maximizing the amount of negative space on a sheet, but nothing would delight me more than to support your writing.”

“i am most grateful for your patronage, mr. bridgerton.”

benedict makes something of a gagging noise, and you snort loudly.

“you are making it strange with the master-servant relation, y/n.”

“ah, so you are learning,” you comment with a sagacious nod of approval.  it is now benedict’s turn to snort.

“what can i say?” he grins.  “i have the greatest of teachers.”

“they have done quite well; please give them my regards.”

“i shall.”

and with the music coming to an end, you turn to face one another, wide and wild smiles on your faces.  you curtsy as benedict bows.  

“may i fetch you a drink?” he inquires after you are both upright again.

“is alcohol served at these occasions?”

benedict laughs.

“champagne it is.”

he gives you one more bow, lingering a moment more with one more smile, before taking off to retrieve your drink.

you try to bite back your smile, but it’s entirely useless.  you twirl in your spot, feeling the swish of your dress in the spin, for you cannot help yourself.  you cannot help how much joy radiates off of you in this moment, how giddy you are.  it feels like a fairytale.  you look in the direction benedict took off and feel your smile widen.

it is dangerous what you are doing— indulging in this.  but you do not care.

this is undoubtedly the most wondrous night of your life.

“so you’re the pauper that the bridgertons have invited to their ball.”

you freeze.

“how else would you have been asked to dance by the host—the viscount and a bridgerton, nonetheless; his two brothers; and the elusive duke of hastings?  it is an endearing sight, really.”

her posse snickers.

“the bridgertons have always been so kind and thoughtful in that way, extending their hands to the less fortunate.  why they chose you, however, remains a mystery.  if it were a pretty face that appealed to them, i perhaps could have understood, but you are simple at best.”

“you are cressida cowper,” you state.

penelope and eloise had warned you about a cruel creature amongst the ton, and the young woman before you matches all of the criteria they had described:  icy platinum hair, draconian eyes, and a haughty disposition that ought to be reserved for the royals.

cressida daintily gasps and smiles at you with what seems to be all the mockery she can muster.  

“i see that my reputation precedes me!  though, only those of my standing can refer to me as such.  cannot have my name tainted by the mouths of the lowly.”

you feel the gazes of other guests on you.  you hear muffled sneers.

this is entertainment for them.

you should say something, stand up for yourself— against cressida, against her posse, against the ton— but you don’t.  you can’t.  your mouth has gone dry, your mind has gone silent, your body has gone numb.  you have never, ever felt more powerless.

“your dress— did the bridgertons pay for it?  of course they did.  pity, though, for their wealth to go to waste on such an offensive thing.  allow me to assist you—”

and she pours her drink onto you.

you try not to gasp at the chill of the liquid making contact with your skin.  looking down, you see a reddish purple stain seep into the cream fabric of your ball gown as it continues to travel downwards.

you hear cressida giggle.  you look up.

“better,” she simpers.  “beautiful at last.”

her posse sneers with delight.  the guests who had tried to suppress their laughs do nothing to hide their mirth now.  

this is entertainment for them.  my humiliation— it is entertainment for them.

you step into cressida’s space, eliciting a stunned gasp from her as the others follow suit, and shove your face as closely to hers as possible.

“if we were not in your domain, i would rip out your delicate hair and strike my hand across your pretty little face.  but i am a lady—not in blood nor in title, but in character.  and with your words and your deeds, you have shown just how utterly undeserving you are of such a title with your complete void of morals, compassion, and integrity.  i do not care what you think of me, cressida, or what drinks you pour on me because i can rest easy in my sleep and waking hours knowing with perfect certainty that i am nothing like you.  i bid you good night.”

and maintaining the ferocity of your glare on her horrified eyes, you muster up the most mocking, deep curtsy you can, turn, hitch up your skirt, and run away.  you cannot care for the booming silence from that creature and her posse, for the murmurs and glowers of the ton thrown your way.  you cannot take time to process what words a flutters-inducing voice snarls at cressida.  

no. 

you must simply run away, quickly and efficiently, because you refuse to give into these monsters’ satisfaction of seeing your tears.

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.iv ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

the cool air of the night whips your face as you run as far and as deep as you can into the gardens.  you curse your damned shoes, for they are slippery and nothing like your sturdy boots, and they make you realize even further how much you have fucked up in allowing yourself to get this far.  in allowing yourself to go to the ball, in allowing yourself to dance, in allowing yourself to fall in—

feeling your shoe catch on something, you fall forward and throw your hands out in front of you, your gloved palms digging into the bark of a tree trunk as you attempt to steady yourself.  you attempt to control the staggered rhythm of your breath, the sobs that choke out of your throat, the palpitations that threaten to collapse your heart.

why did i allow myself to get this far?

“y/n—”

you snap your gaze over to the call of your name as your stomach knots, somehow, even now, with flutterings upon hearing his voice.

“benedict, no— just— no,” you manage to croak out, stepping away from where he approaches.  you hold up your hand, as if it is a magical force that will push him away.  it does not.  “just go, please, just go.”

“i refuse to leave you, y/n, you are hurt—”

you cackle, sniffling the snot that tries to escape your nostrils.  you push your remaining hand off the tree and turn towards him.  

“hurt?  what gave you that impression?  is it the tears?  they are just water, benedict, they will dry.”

“this is not the time to jest!”

“then what do you want of me!”

“to allow me to help you!”

“why!  why do you care!  why do you care for some, some low status person like me!”

“that is not how i see you!”

“THAT IS WHAT I AM.”

he freezes.  you feel yourself clenching your hands into fists, your nails digging into your palms through the satin of the gloves that were bought for you.

“you are the son of a viscountess, a brother to a viscount.  i wonder every day if my family will have enough food to eat at our one meal.  we—” you gesture between the two of you, “—are not of the same world.  and maybe, maybe it should have stayed that way.  to, to have stayed in our own worlds.  we should have stayed in our own worlds!”

“and is that what you want?” he shoots back.

“what?”  you snark.

“is that what you want?  for us to stay in our own worlds?”

you fall silent, words suddenly failing you, breath suddenly leaving you.  he huffs out a breath and continues.

“if that is what you want, i shall stay away from you.  i shall never bother you.  i shall never hurt you as i have.  we shall—” benedict swallows, “we shall forget each other.  if that is what you want, y/n, i shall give it to you.”

you do not respond to him.  you stare into him as he stares into you.

“is that what you want?”

you shake your head as you feel fresh tears rush to your eyes.

“then what do you want?” he softly asks.

you flutter your eyes closed and breathe in.  on your exhale, you open your eyes to the tear-blurry sight of benedict still looking at you with such tenderness in his ocean eyes.

“i want you,” you whisper.

you barely have time to process anything else when benedict surges forward and wraps his arms around you in a crushing embrace.  tears fall even harder than before as you cry into his chest and wrap your arms around him.

benedict pulls back from the embrace to look at you, to cup your cheek, to wipe away the tears that fall so quickly from your eyes.

“i want you, y/n.  i want to be yours.  i want to be in your world, i want our worlds to be one.  i want to go wherever you go.  i want to make you laugh and to make you smile every day and every night; i want to do everything with you.  i want to be with you, to share this life with you.  from the moment i met you, from the moment you intended to shake my hand, i have wanted nothing more than to share all the time i have on this earth with you.  i do not care for balls, i do not care for the ton, i care— i care for you, y/n.  these are not the circumstances in which i wanted to confess this, with you crying and us yelling at one another, but i must be true with you.  i—”

“benedict?”

“yes?”

“may i kiss you?”

benedict’s jaw drops and you laugh at his shock, sniffling your nose as you beam at him.  he quickly recovers, breaking out into the smile that has always made you flutter with butterflies, the smile that you always secretly hoped, dreamed, wished was reserved for you.  and you begin to think that, after all this time, perhaps it is.

“good god, please, yes—”

he barely completes his ‘yes’ when you jump forward to crash your lips into his.  benedict practically trips backwards with the force of your eager leap, the two of you laughing into your kiss at the messiness of it all, as he holds you both steady.

this is your first kiss.  you are so glad that it is benedict.  

and somewhere within you blooms the hope that he is your last first kiss.  

you have no idea what you’re doing, or what you should be doing, but you are far too much enjoying having benedict’s lips on yours, your hands on his cheeks, his hands on your waist, and your bodies pressing more and more into each other to give the slightest care.  and the smile you feel against yours makes you think that benedict doesn’t mind—at all.

you pull apart to breathe, but your lips do not move far from one another.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

“and i am sorry.”

“for loving me?”

you feel benedict jump back as he holds you, his face absolutely crestfallen, panic flooding his eyes, and he’s about to open his mouth to speak when you giggle and peck his parted lips with yours.

“i’m teasing you, my love.”

benedict’s eyes soften but quickly glint with mischief.  you’re curious about the expression when you feel him tickling the sides of your waist.

“okay, okay!” you gasp with laughter as he tickles on. “i— i yield, i yield!”

benedict grins victoriously, his tickles fading into him softly rubbing circles on your waist.

“i am sorry for saying that is not how i see you, when you spoke of your social standing.  i had not meant it that way, but i understand now how it was understood, and i should not have said it as i did.  i know that i have lived a life of unfathomable ease with the wealth and circumstances into which i was born.  the privileges i hold are not things i had reflected on, really, until— until i met you.”

you soften at his earnestness, by the way he humbles himself before you.  but you cannot help the giddy mischief that bubbles from within.

“did you only reflect on your privileges as to win a femme’s favor?”

benedict’s jaw drops again, but you see how his ocean eyes shine with like-minded playfulness. 

“do you truly think so lowly of me?”

you grin.  

“perhaps.”

you feel benedict teasingly threaten his hands into tickling position onto your waist, and laughing, you shoo them away.  he grins and softens his gaze once more.

“what i wanted to say to you earlier is— i wish you did not speak of yourself so harshly.  as if you are unworthy of care from me because of your status.  i care for you, i love you, y/n,  as you are.  as you were, as you will be.  with all your circumstances, all your experiences, all your deeds, all your words, all your thoughts, all your feelings.  for your heart, for your mind, for your soul.  i love you because you are you, and i wish for you to see that, for you to see you as i see you.  as so many of us see you.”

“i— i do not know what to say.”

“you do not have to say anything; just to, if i may ask of you, seed my words into your heart and mind and soul and know them to be true, wholly and completely,” a playful smile forms on his lips.  “though, i must say, i am rather pleased with myself for rendering a writer with ferocious conviction speechless.”

you roll your eyes, but your voice is soft.

“you have had that effect on me for quite some time, benedict.”

benedict swallows and gently rubs circles onto your waist again.

“i love you, benedict.”

“i love you, too.”

< y/n and benedict, hand-in-hand, start to walk towards the house; they are taking their time. >

“are you certain you want to return the ball?” benedict inquires.  “we can stay here in the gardens and wait until the last of the guests have gone.”

you hum.

“i would like to dance.”

“ah, was there a gentleman or a lady who caught your eye, miss y/l/n?”

“oh, loads.  i hope it won’t make you terribly jealous, mr. bridgerton.”

“it will, but i shall simply stare at them maliciously if their hands are to roam.”

“yes, my form is reserved for your hands and your hands alone.”

you exchange grins.

“indeed.”

benedict nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, and you laugh.  he lifts his head and plants a soft kiss on your temple.

“are you certain?  i do not mean to doubt you or your wishes to dance.  we can dance out here, under the bright light of the moon.  i want you to feel content and safe.”

“i do feel content and safe.  with you.  with the family.  within myself.  i shan’t let the ton or cressida ruin my first ball.  though, the idea of dancing in the moonlight is quite enticing.  perhaps another night?”

“you have my word,”  and bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your knuckles.  a serene silence falls between you two until benedict makes some sort of a noise in his throat, as if to clear his voice.

“i, uh, must say,” benedict begins, “your confrontation with cressida was, uh, quite— alluring.”

you stop, letting go of his hand, and stare at him.

“alluring?”

a delicious blush colors your love’s face.

“indeed.”

a newfound bravery blooms in you.

you step into his space, not breaking eye contact with his blown out pupils, the ocean of his eyes mere outlines.  you sneak your lips towards his ear and hear a soft whimper emit from his lips.

“is that something of interest to you, mr. bridgerton?” you murmur, your bottom lip barely grazing his earlobe.  you feel him shiver and inhale.  “when you see someone be put in their place?”

he exhales frantically.

“it is something of interest to me when— when you do it,” he admits, as if out of breath.  you smile, pressing your bottom lip softly into his earlobe.  he does nothing to hold back his moan as you do everything in your power to hold in yours.

“that is good to know,” and quickly rip away from him.  

in your step back, you take in benedict’s state—flustered, expectant, ruttish—and wink at him.  you turn and walk away at your leisure, putting on a performance of superiority as you hide your own arousal.

it is only a few moments later that you hear benedict follow you.

“you,” he says, voice still fraught with desire but full with love, “will be the death of me.”

you look back at him and grin.

“and what would you like me to put on your epitaph?”

“benedict bridgerton, he who, in life and in death, loves the best soul to have ever existed.”

you cannot help your giddy self and close the distance between the two of you once more, grabbing his face and pressing your smile into his.  benedict happily obliges as he places his hands at the low of your waist and pulls you closer into him.

< they get into it! 

< y/n takes off her gloves so that she can touch benedict; she is about to throw them on the ground. >

“wait—”

and he takes your gloves.

“hm?”

“your gloves.  they were costly to make,” benedict states as he stuffs them into the inside pockets of his jacket.  “i don’t want to be flippant in letting them be discarded to the ground.”

you gape at him.

“you concern yourself with the cost of my gloves?”

“why, yes, of course, it is something i—”

you clutch onto the lapels of benedict’s jacket and push him backward into a nearby hedge, his mouth now agape and his pupils dark with a desire you very much want to satisfy.

“i find your consideration quite alluring.”

in the midst of his apparent arousal, benedict giggles, and that makes you grin.

“what is it?”

“a hedge, y/n?  of all things to anchor me against?”

you roll your eyes.

“it was this, benedict, or the bark of a tree.”

“ah, so i should be grateful then.”

you repeat his words with sped up mockery, making him laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle in the adorable way that is so very distinctly benedict, and you capture your love’s lips again to shut him up, smiling and laughing into the kiss.

…

“what do you want?”

“you.  whatever you want, benedict, i want it.  please.”

“are you certain?” he breathes into your ear.

“god, yes, benedict, please, yes.”

“then—”

benedict positions his head downward, burying his face into the crevice of your bosom, and before you can even begin to tease him for his absurdity, you feel the wetness of his tongue flat against the curvature of your right breast.  your gasp of surprise quickly transforms into an ungodly guttural wail, feeling yourself dig your fingernails into benedict’s back, arching into him to steady yourself, as he painstakingly drags the flat of his tongue from your right breast against the expanse of your exposed chest to the length of your right shoulder.  dazed and euphoric, you feel how benedict sneaks towards your ear, hovers it, panting ragged breaths,

“i’ve wanted to do that since you descended the stairs in that dress.  and—”

taking your left hand, benedict pushes your middle finger and forefinger fully into his mouth.  he methodically works his tongue against them as he guides your hand to pull and push in him, his blown out pupils never once leaving your intoxicated stare.  you feel the desperate urge to throw your head back at the incandescent eroticism that throbs from your fingertips to the rest of your body, but may god smite you if you willingly tear your eyes away from the divine sight of benedict’s almost oceanless eyes gaping into you as his gorgeous mouth sucks on your fingers.  just before you feel as though you are to fully blank out and ascend into the heavens, benedict rips your hand out of his mouth, the action creating an obscenely delicious ‘pop’ sound, and, wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulls you back into him, your face finding respite just below his shoulder.

“i’ve wanted to do that since first drawing your hand.”

you laugh-cry into his jacket.

“shit, benedict.”

your love laughs and nudges his head into yours and rests it there as he softly rubs circles on your back with his thumb.

“please—” good god, breathe, “please remind me to ask you more frequently what you want.”

“did you enjoy it?”

“no, benedict, i quite plainly hated it.”

“i’d be glad to accept your critiques.”

“i know you would,” you smile into his jacket and, lifting your head, are greeted by your favorite sight:  benedict, with his soft smile and his gentle ocean eyes.

“i have never felt like that before,” you admit in a whisper.

“nor have i,” he whispers back.  that shocks you, and you must have made your reaction visible because benedict emits a laugh through his nose, soft smile and gentle ocean eyes unfaltering.

“but you have been with others before; you’ve had similar experiences, yes?”  

you had assumed that your exhilaration must have been, apart from it being benedict, rooted in your lack of experience in such things.

benedict brushes a loose strand of your hair away from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear, his hand moving down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing it.

“yes, but those were different.” 

you cock your head in response.  he smiles, as if it is apparent.

“because they are not you.”

the sweetness of benedict’s ocean eyes are quickly replaced with shock then delight and then you don’t know what because he closes them as you crash your lips into his.  whatever you had just felt before, you want it again.  you want benedict.  all of him.  and you want all of him to feel what you just had.

you lick his teeth, and granting your wish, benedict opens his mouth more, groaning, bringing his hands to the curvatures of your ass, pushing your bodies even closer together though no space left exists between the two of you.  you move your hand to the back of his head and, gripping a tuft of his hair, pull it roughly just as you capture his tongue with your mouth and suck hard.  the sounds that benedict produce in reaction are entirely inhuman, but you vaguely deduce he is trying to say your name, and you’ve never attended a concert but, my god, nothing will ever sound as harmonious as the symphony that is your name gutturally trapped in benedict’s throat.

continuing with the work you’ve done to undo benedict thus far, you take your other hand and start to rake it against his body, starting at the base of his throat, taking time and leisure to explore, lowering and pressing into his chest, wondering wildly what beauty exists behind his damned shirt, lowering and feeling the firmness of his stomach and trying not to completely undo yourself with the sinful, transcendent thoughts of putting your tongue there, lowering and lowering and touching something curious and unfamiliar and hard and—

when he pushes you off of him.

“benedict, i— i am so sorry,” you panic, “please, what did i—”

“no, no,” he swallows, “you did— you have nothing to apologize for, my love, you were— uh— you were doing quite——” he clears his throat, “you were doing quite well; very well, actually…”

you continue to frown, still concerned.

“then why are you so tottery?”

“because— because if we were to continue, i do not think— i know i would not last for— um, for very much longer.”

you jut out your hip, putting the knuckles of your fist on it, and furrow your eyebrows at him.

“benedict bridgerton, i still do not understand what you are trying to convey.  speak plainly.”

“we should stop.”

your jaw drops, as does your hand from your hip.

“why?” you practically whine.  you should be embarrassed by your desperation, but to be entirely frank, you couldn't care less.  benedict huffs out a laugh, still breathless, and, stepping towards you, lays a tender kiss on your forehead.

“as much as i would love for us to continue, i think being in the family gardens with a ball being held a few meters away is hardly an ideal location for the more— involved aspects of such activities.  the aspects i’d like to explain to you,” he takes another step into your space, lowering his voice to an unfamiliar but enrapturing gravel, “the aspects i’d like to show you.”

you swallow your whimper.

“i—— i would very much like that,” you manage.  and then you grin, “though, exploring such aspects in the family gardens sounds like it would be quite the adventure.  a calculated risk, if you will.”

the alluring tone of benedict’s voice is completely replaced with a giggle, and your grin broadens as you press even closer into him and nudge your nose against his.  benedict rests his forehead against yours and flutters his eyes closed.

“what did i do to have you love me back?” 

you flutter your eyes closed.

“you were you.  you are you.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.v ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< ahead, y/n sees kathani.  she makes the connection that kathani must have accompanied benedict as a chaperone so that y/n wouldn’t be “disgraced” by having a man by himself chase after her.  

< as the two approach the viscountess, kathani recognizes how disheveled y/n and benedict look and promptly fixes them to look more presentable. she takes some hedge leaves out of benedict’s hair. >

“i see that you are well, y/n?” inquires kathani.

“never better, actually.”

she laughs, a smile falling on her lips.

“i am sincerely glad to hear that.”

< they walk closer to bridgerton house. >

“you are fortunate that it was not anthony who volunteered to chaperone.  he would have not reacted well to his loved one being dishonored, as he would say, particularly on family grounds.”

“oh dear,” you say, nervous and suddenly self-conscious.  you do not want to be the target of the eldest bridgerton’s wrath.  “what have i done to dishonor—“

kathani laughs.

“i wasn’t referring to you, chellam.  i was referring to him,” and she juts her chin out at benedict.

“me!”

“anthony will be furious when he finds out that you have been— private,” she says, gesturing to his newly tidied appearance, “with y/n in the gardens.  not very gentlemanly of you.”

“he won’t find out!” benedict pauses. “he won’t find out— right, kate?”

kathani just makes a face of feigned deep thought and you chortle.

“kate!”

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict.”

“but what if it’s for love?” he implores.  he says it facetiously, but you feel with what conviction he exudes his true feeling.

kathani’s expression softens as she looks between you and benedict.  you offer a small nod and a smile, confirming her thoughts.  she beams at you but then narrows her eyes at benedict.  there is no heat to her gaze; she is, however, having the most sublime time making her brother-in-law squirm.

“i do not keep secrets from my husband, benedict,” kathani repeats.  benedict groans, throwing his head back like a disgruntled child, and you belly laugh at him.  

“i hope you are ready for gregory to be your second,” she continues.

you almost double over as benedict snaps his head forward to look at his sister-in-law.

“gregory!”

“indeed.  it is a shame as well— anthony’s accustomed second being the one he has to duel,” she sighs dramatically.  “oh well.  colin will make a fine replacement.”

“this family is ridiculous,” you declare, grinning like mad.  “gregory seems a tad young, though.  what about eloise?  i am sure she would be a more than suitable second for benedict.”

“oh, i have no doubt,” grins back kathani, “but i would not dare involve a woman in the idiocy of men and their ludicrous concepts of honor.”

you and kathani laugh loudly, delighted by how much you are enjoying yourselves, untroubled by benedict’s moping.

“it has been wonderful being in love with you, benedict,” you state simply.  “it’s a pity that it has to come to an end so soon."

kathani snorts.  benedict stops in his tracks and gapes at you.

“you think i would lose the duel!”

“anthony is more stubborn; he would let it fuel his will to live.”

“i think you underestimate how much i love you and how that fuels my will to live.” 

you smile.  in your periphery, kathani smiles. despite his current displeasure with you, your love smiles.

“i suppose i do.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vi ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< upon returning to the ball, y/n, benedict, and kathani see how anthony and violet are ensuring that the cowpers are leaving.  before the family leaves, y/n approaches cressida. >

“i do hope to see you at another one of these events.  if you find a way, of course, not to have yourself kicked out.” 

and you curtsy.  you turn to your love, his mouth in a wide smile and ocean eyes sparkling, and offer him a wink. you hear the quartet start up. 

“i believe it is time for another round of dancing.  care to be my partner?” 

“i would love nothing more.”

< they dance.  it is sweet, silly, romantic, and delightful.  both y/n and benedict touch each other beyond what is considered proper, like hands laying too low on the waist or eliminating the space between their bodies, but they truly do not care.  their unabashed joy is abundantly evident to everyone in the ballroom, but they are only focused on one another.  they are in their own world.  they giggle, they grin; it is the happiness they both deserve.  

< they dance the next set.

< after her and benedict’s third dance together, y/n makes eye contact with violet, who is at the margins of the dancefloor, eyes wide with joy. >

“as much as i love dancing with you, my love,” you beam, “i think i am in need of a new partner.”

< y/n approaches violet and with a bow asks her for the honor of being her next dance. though delighted, violet remarks how she is too old, and y/n says that the youngsters can learn a thing or two from her wisdom and skill. >

“we would need permission from the host,” offers violet.

“from anthony!  you birthed him!  you granted him permission to exist!”

that makes violet laugh.

< violet agrees, and they walk hand in hand to the dance floor.  in this dance, y/n and violet are partnered, benedict partnered with penelope, kathani partnered with anthony. >

…

“you’ve told each other."

“has anyone remarked how keenly insightful you are, violet bridgerton?"

“no,” the dowager replies with twinkling eyes, “but it is something of which i am well aware, and take great pride in.  i am happy for you both.”

“i am so glad to have your approval.”

“oh tosh!  as if a mother’s approval or disapproval can get in the way of real, true love.”

“perhaps so, but it is affirming to have the blessing from someone you so dearly love in a matter such as this.”

“you make it easy to love you, my dear.”

< the dance calls for a switch in partners.  y/n becomes partnered with penelope, and violet becomes partnered with benedict. >

“thank you, pen.”

“whatever for?”

“for bumping into me at the markets.”

penelope laughs.

“accidents are quite good, are they not?”

“i despise them, actually,” you declare with a grin.

< penelope reveals that benedict shared with her why he was not seen for the first three dances of the night. >

your jaw drops, and penelope merely titters in response.

“is that why i didn’t see him!  because he was lurking in the crowds to prevent men from approaching me?”

“it has been my discovery that the bridgerton brothers do not handle their jealousies well.”

“do you think gregory shall be the same?”

“oh, i am entirely certain.  he shall likely be the worst of all.”

the two of you snort as you are sent back to your partners, penelope with benedict and you with violet.

“and what has you and penelope in such giggles?”

“making barbs at your sons.”

violet laughs.

“they make it awfully easy to do so, do they not?”

< the dance comes to an end.  violet plants a soft kiss on y/n’s head.

< turning, y/n connects eyes with benedict who wears an incandescently happy expression. >

how could you not see it before?  how in love he is with you.

< tired but elated, y/n takes a break from dancing.  she reunites with the rest of the bridgertons at the ball.  y/n finally meets daphne, who remarks that she has heard so much about y/n.  eloise shares how the family wished to check in on y/n when she had returned to the ball to see that she was well; in a rare smile rather than a smirk, eloise shares that, upon seeing her dance and dance again with benedict, that she looked quite well indeed. at some point in the conversation with the bridgertons, y/n inquires when she can meet francesca.

< time passes, and joy is had amongst the bridgertons, penelope, simon, and y/n.  y/n cannot believe her happiness.

< the last dance is called.  benedict approaches y/n. >

“may i have the honor of being your final dance of the night?"

“you aren’t tired of me yet?”

“i shall never tire of you, y/n.”

upon taking your hand, benedict twirls you once then twice as he leads you towards the dance floor.  giggling and grinning, you decide to do the same to him, causing him to giggle and grin right along with you.

< they dance a fourth time. >

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.vii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the guests have made their leave from the bridgerton ball.  colin, eloise, and violet have gone to their respective bedchambers.  

< anthony, benedict, kathani, and y/n walk up the steps of the grand staircase. anthony has his hand clamped on benedict’s forearm and pulls him up the steps with particular determination and quiet fury. >

“i know where i sleep, brother!  i have slept there since we were children!”

“i am well aware of that, benedict, and i am also well aware of how you— roam when enticed.”

benedict looks at anthony, to you (you just shrug as you look on at the exchange with excitement), and back to anthony.

“do you people really think so little of me!”

“i do not think little of you, brother, i just know you.”

benedict’s shock deepens incredulously, though you see the smile underscoring it all.

“i am a man of honor!  i am a gentleman!”

“yes, as am i, as is colin, as was father; all bridgerton men are, and all bridgerton men are idiots around the persons for whom they have affections.  now, go into your bedchamber,” anthony finishes as he shoves his younger brother into the room.

“you are a nightmare!” you hear your love shout from within.

“and you are to stay here for the remainder of the night!” he shouts back, leaning forward to grab the knob to benedict’s bedchamber and pulling the door shut with a loud thud.  he turns to kathani, composure returning to his senses. 

“my dearest, may you call samuel and lawrence, please?  i shall have samuel stationed here and lawrence stationed outside benedict’s window.  they will be paid double their wage for these extemporary responsibilities.”

you laugh with your whole stomach and feel tears sting your eyes.  you have no concern in hiding your howls until you remember hyacinth and gregory are asleep and promptly clamp your hand over your mouth.  your hand succeeds in muffling your laughter, but marginally.

kathani rolls her eyes at her husband and deeply sighs.

“i shall,” she replies, smiling at her love’s antics.

pleased with her answer, anthony right about turns at benedict’s door, places his hands behind his back, and stands up tall, taking his temporary duty as guard with the utmost gravity.  something then eases in his posture, and he turns to you.

“i hope you have enjoyed your night, y/n.”

your heart swells.

“it was wondrous, anthony.  thank you.”

he beams, brilliant delight in his eyes.

“i wish you good rest.”

and with a bow of his head, anthony turns away from you and assumes his station once more, gravity and perfect posture and all.

the viscountess turns to you, her smile having softened, and says, “let me escort you back to your bedchamber.  i shall help you prepare for bed.”

–

“despite his many flaws,” kathani says with all amusement and fondness in her voice as she removes the pins from your hair, “anthony is, indeed, a man of honor and honesty.”

“i never had my doubts, but—” you snort, “that has certainly proved it.”

“it is because he thinks so highly of you,” she shares, looking at you in the mirror.  you turn around in your seat and connect with her eyes, eyes that are filled with so much warmth.  “he cares deeply for you, y/n.  anthony is only that overbearing and overly protective when it comes to his family, and he sees you as our family.  we all do.”

you suck in air through your nostrils, feeling the swell of your heart.  how did you get so fortunate as to be so loved by this family?  

though, you detect something in kathani.  her words are sincere, of that you are not doubtful, but they do not seem complete.  it is as if she wants to say more, if the blossoming twinkle in her eyes is indicative of anything.  but kathani does not elaborate.  

instead, she picks up the brush on the vanity and gently brushes your hair.  it reminds you of when your elder sister used to brush your hair before bedtime.  you close your eyes, humming.

“i see you all as my family, too.”

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ III.viii ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

< the next morning, late morning.  the dining room. >

“you are infernal,” benedict deadpans to anthony, staring at his brother and taking his seat next to you.

“you are incorrigible; i was correct,” anthony responds, his eyes not leaving his paper.

“correct about what, brother?” hyacinth asks.

despite their current rivalry, benedict and anthony both freeze.  kate speaks on their behalf.

“your eldest had deemed it necessary to have lawrence stationed outside below benedict’s bedchamber window in the early morn and was proved correct in doing so; your second eldest had attempted to escape by way of that route.”

“stationed outside his window?  why would that be necessary?” gregory inquires.  he turns to benedict.  “and why were you trying to leave through your window?” 

in his periphery, benedict sees you whipping your head.  you seem to have suddenly found some interest in the painting on the wall faced away from the current scene.  he notices how you hide your smile behind your fist and how you attempt to suppress the convulsions of your laughter.  kate, on the other hand, unapologetically laughs.

“i am certain you will learn in due time, gregory.  it is something of a tradition, it seems.”

“will i get to participate in this tradition?” hyacinth enthuses.

“NO!” benedict and anthony shout in tandem.  they look at each other, and the elder gives a ‘see!’ face to the younger.  benedict just rolls his eyes.  

his eyes eventually land back on you:  you have now totally hidden your face in your hands with elbows perched on the table for support, any attempts at hiding your laughter now entirely gone.  your entire body vibrates as you somehow squeak and guffaw into the palms of your hands.

“ugh, why do adults always speak in such vague statements!” hyacinth grumbles as she slumps in her chair and crosses her arms.  she then suddenly shoots back up and looks at you.  “y/n, you only speak in riddles when we play!  may we play now?”

“yes!  may we play now?” gregory pipes up.

“please!” the two youngest plead in tandem.  benedict looks to you, and wiping away your hands to reveal your face red from laughter, you say,

“i would be— i would be delighted to do so,” you take sharp breaths in between attempts at controlling your laughter.  “perhaps—” you full on snort, and it makes benedict break out into a grin, “—perhaps, after the young sorceress and— and the young knight slay the wyvern, they— they will save the— the—” you laugh hard again, “the princess, captive and forlorn in her tower.”

gregory and hyacinth shout their joy and take off from the table.  

“you haven’t been excu!— oh, nevermind,” anthony grumbles in an uncanny, childlike resemblance to his youngest sibling.

benedict watches as you use your forefingers to swipe at the corners of your e/c eyes, fits of laughter still bubbling out of your mouth.

i love her, and she loves me, he thinks in awe.  it has been on repeat in his mind since you confessed to one another in the gardens just the night prior.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“your lordship,” you giggle still as you look at anthony, and benedict snickers, “may i be excused to play make-believe with your youngest siblings?”

anthony rolls his eyes with much theatricality, but his smile at you is sincere.

“you are not my sibling,” he states, but benedict catches how his elder brother quickly glances at him with eyes that say ‘yet,’ “you need not my permission, but yes, you may.”

you bow your head in dramatic gratitude, causing kate to titter and anthony to look to the ceiling, and you lift yourself up from your seat.

before you follow after his siblings, benedict reaches out and gently takes your hand.  you look at him, and he feels how his stomach flutters when his blue eyes makes contact with your e/c.  just as it did the first time, just as it did every time after.

benedict feels you softly rub three circles on his hand.  he softly rubs four circles on yours.

“good day, princess,” you say with a wink at your love, slowly slipping your hand away from his and then turning to walk out of the dining room.  benedict stares at you as you leave.

i love her, and she loves me.  she is mine, and i am hers.

“when do you intend on proposing, brother?” anthony smirks as he puts his teacup to his lips.

benedict smiles, looking off at where your laughter is heard. 

“later this afternoon.”  

anthony chokes on his tea, and kate, patting her coughing husband’s back, arches an eyebrow at her brother-in-law, amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“without a ring?” 

benedict turns to look at the couple and grins.  

“who said i don’t have a ring?”

“you are joking,” anthony says matter-of-factly.  “we all are excited at the prospects of y/n officially joining this family, but you just confessed your love for one another not even twelve hours ago.  we are still breaking fast!  there were guards at your door and your window!  how could you have already procured a ring?”

benedict smiles, digging into his pocket.

“i do not jest, brother.”

and, with pride, he holds up a thin band made of twisted paper.

“now, if you will excuse me,” benedict announces, lifting himself out of his seat, giving a kiss to the top of kate’s head, and ruffling anthony’s hair.  “i must be going.”

“and where are you off?” anthony demands as he straightens out his hair.

“do you think i am going to propose to y/n without asking her family’s permission first?  would not be very gentlemanly of me if i did.”

“how do you know where she lives!”

“that is what you were asking penelope last night,” kate answers.  anthony looks at his wife, incredulous and in awe.  benedict grins.

“exactly so, sister.  i’ve always known you held all the intelligence between you two.  i would have seen to it sooner, but—” 

an image of e/c eyes and ink-stained hands flashes in his mind, the flutterings in his stomach intensifying.  butterflies— that is what he will paint next, he decides.  

after he finishes his portrait of you.

“—i was held captive in my tower.”

[ybklix]

forbidden love with innie 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

★ pairing: yang jeongin x fem!reader

✦summary: Jeongin has it all, he’s a sweet millionaire man with a passion for photography, his only flaw has always been his family, obsessed with power and money, they force him to marry as if he was living in the past, but the only past he loves is you, an old crush that came back into his life as the most beautiful muse. Now he’s trapped, between a false love and a true one.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI, angst, fluff, brief smut (sex w a lot of feelings): oral sex, fingering and piv, cheating ?, classism, mean jeongin but not to reader, forbidden lovers trope.

word count: 14.4k

╰ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ masterlist - taglist

request<3!

a/n: i feel inspired by jeongin, my bad if it's too long oops

It was like destiny. You never thought you would meet him again like that, the last time you had heard from him was in high school, your mother stopped working for them a couple of years ago so she doesn’t have as much news from the Yangs as she used to tell you, plus you were living with two other roomies and you were trying your best to visit her. But... it happened so strangely for you, the ad didn’t even have his name, it was a completely unknown one, Hwang Hyunjin, and you looked up his face on the internet but being so overwhelmed between the jobs you kept in the summer and the university, you completely forgot about it.

You looked at him as you entered the gallery, you couldn’t believe it, it was the same Yang Jeongin who you had been in love with for years, looking slightly more mature, wearing a suit, standing next to another young man who you’re sure is Hyunjin. They both looked up when they heard you enter, but only Jeongin’s gaze captivated you completely, he still had the sweet look he had as a child, nothing had changed, only his hair color was a coppery blond now and didn’t have braces anymore; his hair combined perfectly with his slightly tanned skin tone, highlighting his marked features, making him look manly and more attractive; he was no longer a child, he definitely grew up. You started to get nervous after coming out of your little trance, where you both looked so stunned and fascinated by each other, for Jeongin, it was like seeing a divine figure in life, you glowed, and you looked just as he remembered you from the last time he saw you, so beautiful and full of life.

Hyunjin had no idea what this was about, but it was obvious he noticed the intensity between the two of you, Jeongin saw you as if he had just seen his favorite painting for the first time, the question if you knew each other popped up in Hyunjin’s mind, but the most important one was, how do you know each other and why did you look like old lovers meeting again.

“Y/n...” whispered Jeongin, taking the surprise of his friend standing next to him.

Hyunjin blinked in puzzlement looking at Jeongin, as there was not even a need to introduce yourself, Hyunjin knew your name because you had signed up for his summer course as an assistant and apprentice photographer at his gallery, you had applied and were about to have your interview, Hyunjin was really fascinated with your work. He considered you a fresh artist with a unique vision.

Hyunjin was Jeongin’s lifelong best friend, but he didn’t know about you and his huge crush he had on you throughout his years of youth because... deep down, Jeongin was an extremely reserved man, besides Hyunjin was studying abroad all the time, he studied with Jeongin in elementary school and they met again until college, although Hyunjin was only one year older than him, but they were never separated even for a moment, they visited each other so often, and in his childhood, the Yangs hung out too much with the Hwangs. They still do, in a nice tradition.

Hyunjin was also surprised by the sudden change in his best friend’s countenance, his face was now shining, he could see the illusion reflected in his sharp eyes that he knew so well. He was shocked, a few moments ago he was so down and furious, shouting how overbearing and disgusted he felt at his family’s stupid decision to arrange a marriage for him... and then nothing, you showed up interrupting the conversation, just when Hyunjin was trying to process the information and reassuring him, saying softly, “Wow, slow down, Innie, what are you talking about?”

And you, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard him say your name. Your breath went out of you, it truly was very pleasing to see him again but... the impact was massive. Your Jeongin, who in fact was never yours beyond your pure imagination. He was so different from you, something so unattainable that you only sighed for, the one who taught you everything, even your greatest passion, like photography.

“Hello” you replied shyly and nervously, “it’s been a while.”

“A very while” Jeongin replied, almost breathless.

You were a considerable distance away from them, if you got any closer to him you think you would melt, more than when you were out there walking a few blocks in the intense summer sun to get all the way to Hyunjin’s gallery.

Both of your hearts pounded, every hair on their bodies bristled with emotion, the feelings never left, they only returned once you met again so unexpectedly. This time the feeling burned with more intensity, you were no longer children who used to play in his backyard.

“Ah, hello, I’m Y/n, I’m here for the interview...” you spoke, clearing your throat and breaking eye contact with Jeongin to see Hyunjin.

Hyunjin smiled amused, there wasn’t much to interview, in fact he was never that serious nor did he plan to be so hard on you, he was just like Jeongin, kind and down to earth despite growing up with all the riches and luxuries of life. But he liked you after seeing that you had the trust, and adoration, of his best friend.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Hwang Hyunjin and this is my gallery, my work area is a few blocks away, we’ll be passing from here to there.”

You raised your eyebrows, gripping your crossbody bag tightly and nervously, looking around the establishment, about to speak and compliment the place but then it dawned on you... he had spoken as if he was already taking you into account.

“Oh... it means that...”

“You’re in” he smiled at you.

Your face still reflected surprise but you were still grateful, you really were grateful, it was a decent job from which you’d learn more about what you actually study and do; and the pay was excellent.

“Can we start now? I’m having an exhibition this weekend and I need opinions” Hyunjin added, rounding his friend’s shoulder, amused to see that Jeongin couldn’t take his eyes off you.

You nodded. You had nothing better to do, than to finally start working. Hyunjin dressed more casual and relaxed than Jeongin... a part of you questioned why he was dressed so smartly, you wondered if he really continued his family’s legacy and company, but you hadn’t read any news of him being the official successor... maybe, after all, from their continuous complaints and dislikes, he forgave them and simply continued to work for them, or at least you thought so. You were not so aware of Jeongin, since years ago, since you treated him as a first love you had to let go, as an ex —you never had absolutely nothing— which you had to forget; besides, despite being handsome and rich, Jeongin was so private, he didn’t share much on social media and kept an impeccable image for the rest of the media, without even his parents asking him to, he really was like that, he never used his money for excesses and whims.

Hyunjin started walking, inviting the two of you to follow him, Jeongin waited for you, to line up with your step and see Hyunjin with his back to you leading you both.

“So... how do you two know each other?” Hyunjin asked amused, turning his head to look at you and then stopped his walking in front of a large white wall, with portraits leaning on the floor.

You were both surprised and saw Hyunjin’s expression waiting for an answer, he was quite interested to hear a good story of two lovers meeting, something new for Hyunjin since he didn’t know you and, during all his friend life, he only knew one girlfriend of Jeongin, whom he dated her since he was 13 and broke up with when he turned 18. And, as far as he knew, Jeongin has been single ever since... until now of course, when just today he angrily yelled at him “I’m getting married!” And it wasn’t at all a happy tone.

“Oh, she’s a childhood friend...” replied Jeongin.

You sighed, knowing that... that was indeed partly true, but the rest of it, somehow embarrassed you. For you, both Hyunjin and Jeongin, were two attractive men from a world very different from your own.

Hyunjin frowned innocently, crossing his arms and hunched his posture to get a closer look at your face, since he thought you were the daughter of someone close to the Yangs, your appearance and attire were so elegant that he naively believed you might be someone Jeongin studied with, took lessons in something as a child and he wanted to know...

“Really? I don’t remember your face? What did you say your last name is, again?” Hyunjin commented in confusion.

Your heart stopped for a moment... you weren’t the daughter of someone with money, you were the daughter of one of the Yang’s maids, who worked for them for long years, even before you and Jeongin were born.

“Ah, nothing like that, Hyunjin; she’s the daughter of one of my nanny’s when I was a kid, she used to come to my house and we used to play all the time” Jeongin answered again, so naturally and calmly, not meaning to say that your mother was a maid.

For Jeongin, your mother was more than a servant, she really raised him when his mother could never do it; as his mother was... a glamorous woman, more concerned about her status than her children, she was always busy with other unimportant matters, being a real high society woman. Jeongin had affection towards your mother, she made him a kind and tender child, in touch with humanity, and made him see the world with normal eyes, not in a privileged way as he lived from day one. Jeongin was only a year older than you, your mother was absent from work as soon as you were born and until you were 2 years old, she went back to work for them on a more irregular schedule and, when you turned five, she went back to a more fixed and continuous schedule so she could earn more money and, at that age, she found a way to sneak you in, putting you in the Yang’s house while she worked; that’s when you met Jeongin, a lonely rich kid who didn’t know the world and lived like a small adult, he had private tutors for everything, math, music, languages, fencing, karate... but he didn’t know the fun of being a kid, you taught him that.

“Ah, I see is that” Hyunjin commented a bit nervously, biting his lip at the thought that maybe he goofed a bit in deducing that you were someone from his same social class, “I think it’s very cute, that you know each other since you were kids.”

Hours passed, Jeongin didn’t want to leave and even less Hyunjin wanted him to, he still had so many questions once you could give them some privacy, still he continued, helping you to tell what your job was and the way you were going to work. So much time passed that it suddenly became night, so Hyunjin didn’t want to keep you any longer, plus he thought it was very likely that Jeongin would suggest you to take you all the way home.

All the information was also useful for Jeongin, who planned to have his own photography exhibition... but he was such a perfectionist that he didn’t know if he was one hundred percent pleased with his work, felt stuck and.... with the stunned news of his supposed marriage it upset him too much... but in all the haze of emotions you showed up again. Clearing it all.

You were more than nervous but you were trying to act like an adult and maintain your posture at Jeongin’s closeness.

“Mmm well, you can come from 10 a.m. and we’ll finish at 5; you’ll have your lunch break and... only when there’s exhibition I’ll need you most of the day, is that okay with you?" Hyunjin spoke, wanting to say goodbye gently so you could finally go home.

You nodded frantically with a smile. You were happy, relieved of something new and that you could finally quit all those little jobs that kept you stressed.

“Good. Nice to meet you, Y/n, see you tomorrow then” Hyunjin smiled at you.

You looked at Jeongin, about to say goodbye but he was quick to say:

“Aren’t you hungry? Let me take you to dinner.”

Your legs almost trembled; you didn’t know how to say no and.... you were seriously dying to spend some more time with Jeongin, you weren’t sure if it would be the last time you’d see him, like on your high school graduation night. It was obvious that you took another less prestigious and financially accessible university because of your parents, while Jeongin took it upon himself to study at the best university in the country. However, your mother, working for the Yangs, kept you in the same schools as Jeongin, from elementary to high school, since one of the good things that family did for you, besides allowing a nice friendship between you and Jeongin for years, was to keep you in that kind of education. Your mother thought it was too much to ask for the expenses of an expensive university so she did her best to get you into a good and decent institution as well.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes looking at you two amused, he was also starving and wanted to accompany Jeongin to grab a bite but decided to leave his moments to you two alone.

“Okay” you replied with a soft smile.

“See you tomorrow, we have a lot to talk about, huh” Hyunjin said goodbye to his friend in a joking warning tone.

Hyunjin let out a chuckle and as soon as the two of you walked away and walked to the exit, he picked up his cell phone and texted his best friend in amusement:

Weren’t you about to get married? Watch out You’re still missing your bachelor party

The summer air was so hot, hitting your skin and, as you approached Jeongin’s luxurious car, you swallowed dryly nervously, wondering what the hell you were getting into. Jeongin opened the door for you and you sighed as you got inside, sitting in true leather seats, until you saw Jeongin also get in, you put their seat belts on and Jeongin looked at you happily one last time before starting the car, still processing the fact that... you had come back to him.

You felt slightly nervous, not knowing where he was going and insecure that you weren’t dressed for the occasion, he looked so good without trying, he was wearing his suit and he was a handsome man. You didn’t know how to feel clearly, but you were so sure of the warm feeling in your chest at having him close again.

“Mmm... what are you in the mood for?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

Jeongin didn’t respond to that, only spoke again, leaning his elbow on the armrest, bringing his long fingers up to his mouth, slightly awakening in you a spark of desire and tension as he looked so attractive.

“It’s been so long, what have you done? I want to hear from you”

You averted your gaze from him only to take courage and answer him.

“Oh, well, I still have my last year left in college, I’ll graduate until next summer.”

Jeongin released a soft chuckle.

“I see you went into photography, didn’t you?”he turned to look at you briefly.

You hummed in approval.

“I studied photography too, but I’m still thinking about which path to take exactly.”

“Oh, I see, it can be difficult but... you used to like fashion, film and creative director in general, didn’t you?

Jeongin licked his lips, his body was so warm from your presence and he smiled in satisfaction that you still knew him well and hadn’t forgotten his little details.

“Well, I still like all that and I’m in that dilemma... maybe you can help me find my way.”

His comment made a wave of heat travel to your cheeks, luckily the strong air conditioning was hitting your face and you couldn’t quite allow yourself to get hot.

You continued talking, about little things you used to do as kids, reminiscing all your memories and situations you spent together, between big smiles and shy glances; until Jeongin parked his car in the exclusive parking lot of the fancy restaurant-bar he frequents, of which one of his friends is the owner. You had a glimpse of the place and got nervous again, inwardly shouting that if you had known you’d come to such a place with Yang Jeongin, you’d have dressed much better for the occasion.

“The sushi here is the best, you’re going to love it” he commented, turning off the car and getting out so he could open for you.

He was such a gentleman and you smiled warmly knowing he still remembered your favorite food.

You couldn’t believe... this was your first kind of date with Jeongin. When you were young he used to take you all the time to decent, simple restaurants, trying traditional food since the Yangs had an exclusive diet and Jeongin was just dying to sneak out of school and go eat with you at a place where it looked like somewhere with homemade food, from a family, made with love. It used to be simple... now he’d take you to three star restaurants while you wore your slightly formal clothes since you were just waiting to have a job interview. But you couldn’t deny that it felt so good to walk alongside Jeongin, entering the place at the same time, as two men opened the doors for you, walking beside you, on a sort of date.

“So... do you have a boyfriend now?” he asked unexpectedly.

You shook your head quickly, still in surprise at his question.

“Good” he finished.

You and Jeongin approached with the receptionist, a tall, young woman monitoring each diner’s every entrance. You were dazzled by the elegance of the place and they were not yet fully inside, only in the foyer.

“Good night!” she greeted, “Do you have any reservations?”

“Mm, no. Yang Jeongin, table for two in a private room please.”

“Oh, welcome Mr. Yang” the girl corrected herself immediately, making an impression on you of the control and power that his name and image alone can have, “I’m afraid I don’t have any private rooms available” the woman informed, bringing one of her hands in a straight position near her mouth, saying softly like in a sign of something secret, “It’s Mr. Lee and his girlfriend’s anniversary.”

“Oh, really? Felix’s here? Mmm I see, I have to send them flowers,” Jeongin replied.

He quickly pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and typing quickly, of which you curiously saw his screen and realized that he texted someone saying:

Send flowers to Felix’s house for his anniversary with his gf

Jeongin’s attention returned to the woman.

“Amm and why didn’t Felix close the place today?”

The receptionist lifted her shoulders, “I think his girlfriend wanted it that way. Would you like some...?”

“Yes, please, do you have another table available?” he interrupted her.

“Sure, Mr. Yang! My coworker will guide you to your table, just a second” she spoke.

The woman approached another woman who was standing by waiting to guide people, the receptionist reminded her that he was a close friend of the owner and make sure to give him a good place and treat him lightly with specialty.

You followed the young girl until she took you to a very nice place, a little away from the people, close to the wall with perfect lighting. You were engrossed, you had never been in a place like this, not even on your birthdays where you spend your time looking for very good restaurants and partying around your 6 closest best friends; you never thought you’d get to a place like this. But you were with Jeongin, anything was possible with him.

“Thank you so much, Miss” Jeongin thanked politely as the woman left.

He came to your side, pulling out your chair, waiting for you to sit down. You did, and just as he was about to leave for the seat across from you, an old gentleman stopped Jeongin, shaking his hand and greeting him enthusiastically.

Jeongin smiled apologetically at him as he greeted him and suddenly, the old man mentioned a name that gave you chills.

“Congratulations on Nam Juhee; your grandfather told me the news, we’re all very excited!”

Nam Juhee. Jeongin’s first and only girlfriend, as far as you remember. She was... something else. The complete opposite of you. Why did he mention her all of a sudden?

“Ah, thank you, thank you” replied a chagrined Jeongin.

You subtly turned around, you noticed how the old man watched you for a few seconds, you didn’t know it, but he was judging both of you since he evidently found the future heir of the entire Yang dynasty with a woman who is not his future wife, and he thought he was an expert on the subject, believing the obvious, the temptations and slips of a relationship, so he whispered to Jeongin:

“I know you’re young and that can be very difficult... it’s hard to let go of other beauties, but you have to learn to be a strong man and be there for you one and only woman.”

The old man’s voice was rough and he spoke in a tone of a millionaire if that could exist, his sentence only left you more confused. You didn’t know that either, but Jeongin was full of fury to hear that his grandfather was spreading the rumor that he was going to marry Nam Juhee.

Jeongin sat across from you, softening his countenance when he saw you and trying to forget about the Juhee matter, it was something he would solve later, he was there now, with you. But you couldn’t put your curiosity aside, you hadn’t seen him in years, you didn’t know him as well as you used to, so you asked him:

“Why did he congratulate you... for Nam Juhee?”

Jeongin opened his eyes in surprise.

“Ah, it’s nothing. He’s an old guy, he surely didn’t know what he was talking about and I out of politeness just played along.”

You recognized his nonchalant tone, he was lying, you knew it, Jeongin was a bad liar. It was obvious something was up, he mentioned Jeongin’s grandfather and said something very strange... you wondered if it was possible Jeongin was back with Juhee after so long, you just knew they broke up before graduating from high school. You wanted to put it aside and enjoy your moment, however you still asked:

“What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Jeongin raised his gaze from the menu, staring at you and gently denying with an adorable smile from his big lips forming dimples on his cheeks. God, you adored him, wondered why you never tried anything with him and then remembered her name, Nam Juhee, he was always hers.

But now that he didn’t have a girlfriend and you were both adults making decisions of your own... you wondered if it was possible to make Jeongin fall in love with you.

The horrible news was, that you had no idea that Jeongin was an adult without his own decisions, and for the Yangs he was no longer single.

You both ordered and talked again, so comfortable with each other that Jeongin came to think how stupid he was to never confess his true feelings to you, and even more stupid not to look for you all this time.

Jeongin’s life was sweet as vanilla because you were in it. He had everything and he was a great man, everything he wants he got, except for you. But ever since you walked away from him… his life was missing something and everything got worse when he found out about a useless proposal, but when he saw you, everything seemed sweet again.

Both were fascinated to meet again, you were about to leave the table when Jeongin felt another warm hand on his shoulder, he looked up, meeting his friend Felix and his girlfriend, greeting them both with a smile.

“Oh, hey, Y/n, nice to see you again” Felix greeted you.

He always has been a Jeongin’s close friend and you studied in the same schools. You greeted him as well as his girlfriend.

“Can you please explain to me what crazy thing is going on in the Yang's house now?” exploded Felix unexpectedly.

“Oh, you heard it too?” replied Jeongin chagrined.

Felix saw your confused expression and realized that it was not the right time to talk about Jeongin’s hasty marriage rumor.

“Anyway, we have to go, I hope you enjoyed the dinner” Felix hurried to say, with a slightly embarrassed smile, grabbing his girlfriend’s waist and leaving the place.

Jeongin sighed at how simple and affectionate Felix was with his girlfriend, a man 100% free to choose who to be with; he thought about the difference of both families, the Lee’s were free and kind while the Yang’s were incredibly stupid and conservative.

You both left the place after he paid, you waiting behind him with your pink cheeks of embarrassment as he finished up. Jeongin didn’t want to let you go but... he also didn’t want you to take it so rashly that he suddenly invited you to his apartment, you knew he wasn’t that kind of man and you trusted him, a part of you wished he would take the big step and actually invite you over, but you saw him struggle as he wanted to act sensibly. You found him tender.

“Well... I guess you must be tired, you have to work with Hyunjin tomorrow. I’ll drive you home” he warned.

You were so excited. You were living again in your fantasy of a world where only he and you existed... but for some strange reason, the vibe was different, it was still the same innocent feeling but this time you could add something slightly fiery. You had never lusted after Jeongin like that, but realizing he matured so well, you kept fantasizing from time to time about his pronounced jawline that looked so good on him and his long fingers with big hands. He was all man.

You gave him directions to your apartment building. He interrupted you just as you were about to thank him. It was something he came up with, this time he wanted you around, he wanted to make things right. He wanted you like he always did.

“Y/n, you know, I’m about to start my gallery too, but I think I need some help, with the pictures and stuff, mmm would you like to join me after you’re done with Hyunjin?”

You smiled broadly, biting your inner lip trying to contain your joy, he was looking for a way to see you.

“Sure, Innie.”

“If you want me to pay you…”

“I’m fine like that,” you interrupted him, “You, me and your camera just like old times.”

Jeongin smiled broadly, as sincere as he had ever been in a long time.

“Your number is still the same?”

You nodded. Jeongin blushed as he learned that it was only enough to talk to you again to see you again.

“Thank you, Jeongin, it was really nice to see you again.”

And you got out of his car, your heart racing pounding in your chest, so in love with Yang Jeongin again.

[...]

But Jeongin, who drove with a smile all the way to his apartment, came back to reality as he took off his shoes at the entrance of his home and went to sit on his couch, picking up his cell phone and reading Hyunjin’s messages, joking about his tense situation.

Jeongin sighed in frustration as he remembered the morning, his grandfather summoning him to the Yang mansion in his office. Jeongin was sweet and despite being a strange family, it was still his family and he had a soft spot for each of them. So he agreed to go, and his grandfather said everything tactlessly, reminded him that he was already old and his heart wouldn’t hold out long enough and that his wish was to leave Jeongin his legacy, confessing to him that he was always to him like a perfect son, when in reality he was a grandson. He confessed to him that he did not trust Jeongin’s father to leave him everything and that he trusted Jeongin, that he knew absolutely everything and it was true, he spent a lot of time of his life together with his grandfather and made him in a way an old spirit soul, his form of affection was not typical or affectionate, but the love was there.

And then he told him something that Jeongin initially took it lightly, almost as a joke, that also one of his last wishes was to see him married. Grandpa Yang was old and conservative and saw marriage as sacred and another life achievement, still mourning his dead wife for 15 years. The difference was that he did love his wife before he married her.

Jeongin was even tender at first and was about to leave his office trying to reassure him and play along by telling him that he was going to get married soon, but he suddenly says:

“That’s why you are going to marry Nam Juhee.”

Jeongin laughed in disbelief but his grandfather’s expression was serious.

“What?” replied Jeongin.

“You are going to marry Nam Juhee, you’re going to do in a couple of weeks, the ceremony will be held at Deung Jaesang field in the afternoon. Of course you’ll get married in the church. Everything is book, the Nam are more than agreed.”

Jeongin still couldn’t believe it. There was no point in an arranged marriage living in these times. He didn’t even love Juhee, at least not anymore.

He then understood the reason why Juhee was showing up more often at the family gatherings Jeongin was obligated to attend and running into her at every event organized by the Yangs or the company.

His grandfather ended up saying a “I am serious and I hope you are prepared; you can live in the house in the hills or if you prefer an apartment it’s fine, but if you consider having children, the house is the best option.”

Jeongin’s world spun and he almost felt nauseous.

“W-what are you talking about? Nobody here is getting married? I’m not getting married! You better stop with your nonsense.”

Jeongin tried to restrain himself from exploding into a myriad of things to still keep respect for his elder.

“Jeongin, there’s nothing to negotiate, you must do it or-”

“Or what?” he challenged him in annoyance.

“Or forget about what you have. I want it to be that way, end of conversation, what’s wrong? You know Juhee, you used to get along.”

“Are you listening to yourself grandpa? Keep everything, give it to Jeonsik, I don’t care.”

Jeongin knew his grandfather’s seriousness so he just walked out of his home without saying more, his mother tried to stop him but he didn’t listen, he stormed out to tell Hyunjin, trying to process what the fuck he had heard.

He sighed, thinking that he also would take his strike very seriously and from tomorrow he would not show up at the company, instead gathered Hyunjin in the morning so they could talk.

[...]

9:30 in the morning, Jeongin’s younger brother was flooding him with text messages, asking for an explanation of what was going on at home and why everyone was acting strange. Jeongin ignored him and just continued to get ready to meet Hyunjin, but the sound of his door being knocked on completely confused him, he hadn’t been warned that someone was coming into his hallway, so he quickly checked the security cameras outside his door to find his ex-girlfriend standing there.

Jeongin cursed internally and tried not to make noise, showing that he wasn’t home, but the thunderous ringing of his phone indicating a call from her rang; he had no choice but to open it for her, totally indisposed to see her just now.

“Jeongin” she said in surprise, seeing him with only a robe on.

“Juhee, who let you in? I’m gonna fire them” Jeongin replied in annoyance, avoiding looking at her.

“Jeongin, please, I need to talk-”

“About what? You knew about that whole circus? You better stop it with me...”

Jeongin finally looked at her, her eyes were shining and seemed to be asking for forgiveness but he was not moved by an inch of her.

“I don’t want to” she replied firmly interrupting him.

He looked at her incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

“You want to go along with this lie, you really want to marry me? What fantasy are you living in, Juhee?”

“That’s why I was coming to talk to you, to convince you how it can benefit us...”

“I’d rather you to not talk and don’t come looking for me again unless it’s to help me stop such stupidity. I am never going to marry you. Now go.”

Jeongin slammed the door in his face and his body filled with rage again, his blood became heavy, he had never been so angry in his life, but for the moment his plan was to not take the whole fake wedding thing seriously and he would let his whole family go on with their charade while he would continue to live his life, he’d deny everything with the media, call them crazy for attention if necessary, but he wasn’t going to marry someone he didn’t love and certainly not for convenience or a stupid family affair.

Jeongin truly was a romantic. He believed in love because his whole life he lived full of it thanks to you, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

The reason why he dated Juhee for so many years was because, before he fell madly in love with you, he couldn’t distinguish between true platonic love or a tender and innocent love like almost siblings’, all his childhood he had so much affection and respect for you and when his pubertal body started to notice changes, Juhee appeared, he knew then that something with her could be that kind of love, from thirteen to fifteen he was madly in love with Juhee, she was everything to him but then it became boring for him, almost as if he was just used to her and, at sixteen all the Yang’s believed their romance was so serious, beyond a childish thing and seeing the incredible benefits it would be to unite such young people forever, at that age he was more naive and docile, very easy to manipulate, if he saw the people close to him happy, he believed he was obligated to feel happy too, but it was not so, at sixteen he knew he could love you differently. Jeongin realized it when you had your first boyfriend and he died of jealousy when he saw you together.

You on the other hand, started dating other guys since you really believed you could never have Jeongin loving you the way you wanted so you just tried to fill the void, but you didn’t last too long with them, after all they were still spoiled rich kids and none of them were sweet like Jeongin was, most of the time they left when they found out about your life, humiliated you and treated you with pity; you had enough of them and in the end you walked away from that glitzy and glamorous world you thought you never belonged to, once you entered college.

[...]

On your first day at work you did your best to look prettier, this time you really put more effort into your appearance knowing that at any moment you could see Jeongin.

All night you waited for a message from him, but it never came, you felt slightly disappointed, like the first time you were estranged, when nothing from him ever came into your life again... but being so close to Hyunjin, who Jeongin himself claimed to be his closest friend, you were hoping to feel close to him too.

Hyunjin was with you for an hour and then advised that he had to leave for a moment and it wasn’t until the afternoon when he returned while you were with his assistant going over every detail of the weekend’s event. The footsteps of his characteristic Hyunjin’s chelsea boots touching the floor followed by a:

“Can I stay here to copy everything you do and do it in my gallery?”

From a very pleasantly familiar voice. You looked up to find Jeongin. He was dressed more comfortably, in jeans, boots and a thin sweater loose to his body.

Jeongin had spent the morning with Hyunjin, he explained everything he knew so far. And they both looked confused at the situation and then Hyunjin asked about you, to which Jeongin couldn’t quite explain what you were to him, after so many years.

Jeongin spent the rest of your shift with Hyunjin but he was only paying attention to you, giving you complicit glances and smiling at you, approaching you for gentle conversation and just as the clock struck five and Hyunjin was saying goodbye to you, Jeongin hurried to say:

“I’m leaving too, goodbye.”

This time Hyunjin looked at him proudly, like a father watching his son leave for a date.

“You look nice,” Jeongin complimented you, opening his car door for you to get in.

Your face turned warm; he drove to his gallery establishment, you were impressed, of course, it was a more popular and glamorous place; unlike Hyunjin’s location, which was more artsy and bohemian.

You both walked in and while you admired the place, Jeongin admired you, he felt so good to have all his feelings afloat, love was such a mysterious and unexplainable feeling but always enjoyable for him. It felt so good to be with you; you gave color to his gray and monotonous life at least for a few very long years, he came to the conclusion that in that gap where you didn’t see each other, he did come to need you; something was missing, he didn’t know what it was, until he saw your smile again.

“Woah, well, the place and location are great to start” you spoke, turning to look at Jeongin.

You were surprised, he was smiling and his gaze was so soft on you. You had never seen him like that and it gave you some delicious chills, you liked the way he looked at you. Jeongin was on cloud nine, he felt for a second when two lovers looked for their own place to build a home. His chest became warm, that’s what you were to him, a home where he always felt safe. You’ve seen him cry, get angry, laugh, grow up… and he did the same for you. Jeongin had overthought the situation and felt bad that maybe you must have felt empty as he walked away from you.

“So far this is my job” he mentioned softly, still lost in you and half oriented.

Jeongin showed you a thick photo album and pulled out his laptop to continue looking at his work. You were impressed, he always has been an excellent artist and you admired him too much since he was a kid, he was kind of weird and loved the detail of things, he discovered an old camera from his grandfather when he was ten and from there he found a passion.

“And you’ve never had your own exhibition? This is very good, Jeongin” you smiled at him.

“Thank you, but, I feel like it doesn’t have enough of a match to put them all together. I want a specific theme to exhibit and I can’t find inspiration, also, if I decide on something I like, I have to teach myself how to photograph people.”

“I think you’ll do great. Do you have something already in mind?”

You looked at him and went back to watching his work with fascination, he had already worked with luxury brands like Alexander McQueen, and you didn’t understand why Jeongin always demanded more of himself. You knew that feeling stagnant was a very low blow for him and you wanted to help him however you could.

Jeongin closed his album slightly, brushing against your hand and you looked up instantly.

“Sure. Maybe if I start photographing you again I can gain more confidence” he mentioned seriously, staring into your eyes.

“Me?” you replied with a teasing chuckle, nervous and not knowing how to react.

Jeongin nodded with a small smile, “The concept can turn to you; I’d style you, it’d be fun. Since the place doesn’t have anything yet, we can use it in the meantime as a studio.”

You were hot with embarrassment, the proposal flew out of your mind. But you said.

“Okay.”

“Can I take your measurements so I have the perfect outfit for you?”

Your heart flipped. The rest of your time together, finally Jeongin put shyness aside and started flirting with you, in his own way; he looked so cute that anything from him worked on you. And then, the proposal that was new much to your heart, meeting his apartment.

Destiny was something you didn’t think too much about… but knowing him for so many years, spending time apart and meeting again, made it feel for you so special.

“Finally we can drink without having to hide” Jeongin laughed, passing you a glass of wine.

You admired the spacious place, with an amazing view of the city… you thought of the long, lonely nights your old friend must spend and wished you had enough guts to tell him that it shouldn’t be like that now for him, since he had you, and you always wanted to be his.

“And when did you move?”

“To this place, two years ago, but I left the house as soon as I entered college; god and you only know how much I begged to get out of that madhouse.”

You laughed softly, making yourself comfortable on the soft couch in her spacious living room. Jeongin sat across from you, you felt more comfortable and less pitiful, after all, you used to feel so good next to him.

“And you since when do you live in the building?”

Jeongin just wanted to hear you talk… the words wouldn’t form properly but he really wanted to be with you. If nothing came to his mind, the next thing would be to suggest listening to music or watching a movie.

“Oh, since I started college.”

He stared at you and was lost in you, he thought about how cute you looked with your arm pressed into his couch, and your body turned in his direction so you could better see each other face to face, he was dumbfounded, by the image of your face with his lit up, beige apartment in the background he began to speak, totally aware of what he was saying, but at the same time in a soft, gone tone.

“Sorry for not calling you back…”

Jeongin’s lips were slightly parted and his big eyes were shining; you didn’t think you needed to hear that, until he said it.

A strand of your loose hair fell gracefully towards your face, Jeongin quickly brought his hand up to it and brushed it away putting it behind your ear.

“Were you?” he said again so you looked at him confused, “Were you waiting for my call?”

That gave you chills and you felt the distance of both bodies shorten little by little.

“Were you waiting for me to pick up right away?” you teased softly, tilting your head, an act that Jeongin found adorable.

“I’ve been always waiting for you…”

His thick voice and sincerity upset everything inside you, you knew an incredible tension was building in the place and you were dying for him to be able to calm down, until he said:

“I always wanted to kiss you.”

You smiled. You had nothing to lose now, the two of you didn’t have a partner and you had always dreamed of the feel of Jeongin’s lips with yours.

“You can do it now.”

It took Jeongin years to clear his feelings for you so he could see you again; but less than two days to finally say it all bit by bit without any strings attached, at least not for now.

He approached you, took your wine glass and his to put them on the small table in front of his couch, this time completely close to you, his big hand took your face and finally you kissed. Jeongin started nimbly on you, his lips felt so expert and soft that you tried to keep up with him successfully.

“You can always kiss me, now” you whispered between kisses to which he smiled.

Jeongin took advantage and made it more intense now, his lips were soft but his action was heavy, retaliating for every year of his teenage years where he adored you, he was finally there, with you.

Your night ended in some not-so-innocent kisses, his make-out was so hot that you couldn’t help but feel aroused, you were a woman being touched from the deepest part of your soul, where you will always have a place for Jeongin, but you both decided to stop and he only went to drop you off at your place, telling you very happily that he would see you tomorrow.

[…]

And your story was rewritten the next day when Jeongin picked you up after your work. Hyunjin could only see his best friend’s car outside his gallery and you getting in every day as soon as the clock struck 5.

It was your favorite time of the day, playing the lively little muse of Jeongin, who treated you like a princess and a doll. You would walk into his gallery which for the moment you treated as a studio, Jeongin would bring you amazing designer pieces that he loved for you to model, he would bring you professional makeup artists playing to perfection with your face and you would live in a glamorous world between the cameras flashes.

But your favorite part was when he would come up to you and sweetly shower you with kisses. When the pictures were over, he could kiss you freely as you no longer made use of your makeup, he would grab your waist and share such an affectionate and intimate act with you, then he’d take you out to dinner to different places, as he was terrible at cooking, but one night you offered to cook, living your little romantic dream, while he hugged you from behind and touched you the way he never did, giving you little caresses and getting too close to you.

You both lived carefree, in love, your chests puffing out with pride at finally being able to show your love and have each other. Jeongin was more than ready to ask you to be his girlfriend, he had never fallen in love again, it was as if his heart and mind were always waiting to be healed by you, waiting for your return, his whole world and worries were gone every time you were together, he didn’t want to be away from you. At the same time, he was in a dilemma, if it was too fast to formalize… or if it was exactly the perfect time and you couldn’t wait, as long enough time had passed.

There was no doubt that his feelings were so intense, worthy of being called love. He noticed it, as he lowered his camera from his face and saw you there, doing nothing, preparing a pose, acting awkwardly giving your best; you were to him as dazzling as ten rays of sunshine put together, your personality was beautiful and hadn’t changed a single day since he first met you, he wanted to hug you and never let you go.

And the matter of his fake wedding, it didn’t even exist for him, Jeongin hadn’t heard anything since then, so it wasn’t something he cared about, yet his whole family was acting behind his back, planned in the perfect event and wedding of the year without him knowing anything. There were all the invitees ready, Juhee had her dress, her ring. The last step was to go public, so that even Jeongin would get engaged.

The day of Hyunjin’s exhibition came, you were all the time busy there, a little stressed as you received each guest, until the weight left your shoulders as you saw Jeongin walk in dressed elegantly in a suit, looking so handsome. You smiled at him.

“Excuse me sir, I’m afraid you’re not on the list. Kiss me and maybe I’ll consider you may coming in” you joked with him.

Jeongin played with his coat button and leaned in to give you a quick kiss, causing both of you to explode in warm excitement and, a few seniors to burst into uproar, as the rumor of the wedding between Yang Jeongin and Nam Juhee was well known.

“You look beautiful tonight” Jeongin whispered in your ear.

“Thank you, someone special bought me the dress.”

You were somewhat modest to accept Jeongin’s luxurious and expensive gifts; but all your friends exploded when they saw the kind of gifts he gave you, designer clothes, jewelry, handbags, they encouraged you to receive them and staying with the handsome rich man you tenderly knew since you were little, it was like an unreal fairy tale.

“Will you be here all night?” he asked you.

“Oh no, just until most of them arrive and then another girl will cover for me and I can enjoy the event.”

Jeongin pursed his lips tenderly, “Okay, I’ll wait for you over there with Hyunjin.”

Everything was going well, until your heart burst in surprise at the sight of the woman of your nightmares. Nam Juhee. She looked so beautiful that you even had to avert your gaze, as if seeing her might disrespect her.

She was incredibly millionaire, naturally beautiful without the need for any surgery unlike most of all your former high school classmates who at some point touched the scalpel. She wore a nice black designer dress, a slim diamond necklace sliding down her slender chest and collarbones, looking like a superstar with her perfect image.

She had it all, but she wasn’t on Hwang Hyunjin’s guest list.

She was about to enter, but you stopped her.

“Nam Juhee” you whispered still surprised, catching her attention.

She looked at you in confusion.

“I’m afraid you’re not on the list…” you added.

She drew a half smile on her face, looking at you slightly with her frowns thinking if she knew you from somewhere since you looked familiar.

“I’m not on the list but do really you know my name” she replied amused.

You were about to speak, but Hyunjin’s voice interrupts you, appearing beside you.

“Nam Juhee, what are you doing here?”

“I have to accompany my future husband from now on to everything he does.”

Juhee had a proud expression that Hyunjin almost wanted to laugh in her face except that you were right next to him… and Hyunjin knew you didn’t know about the fake Jeongin wedding thing, so it wasn’t his place to overload you with that information, of something he was sure his friend was going to stop.

“Mmm, Y/n, I’ll take care of the guests now, thank you very much, you can go enjoy the event” Hyunjin spoke to you kindly, taking the iPad from your hands.

“But-” you tried to intervene.

You were confused at the situation since Hyunjin was supposed to be the main attraction and should be at his event getting all the compliments possible. And also slightly confused by Juhee’s husband’s comment.

“Please go” he smiled at you.

You walked away confused, still seeing them and noticed the slight astonishment on Juhee’s face, asking Hyunjin dumbfounded if you were the Y/n she knew.

You ran into Jeongin, who happily grabbed you by the waist and whispered a sweet, “Mm, you’re here.”

Hyunjin didn't want to make a fuss by denying her entrance in front of everyone, so he let Juhee in and immediately called to Jeongin, who confusedly turned away from you to see that it was Hyunjin calling him, he took the call and before he could speak, his friend did:

“Juhee is here and I guess Y/n still doesn’t know about the fake wedding.”

He upon hearing the words fake wedding, moved a little further away from you, with a nervous smile and turning his body so you couldn’t see or hear.

“What are you talking about? That’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah but imagine Juhee telling her all of a sudden, you need to explain it to her, bro. And stop the stupid rumors as soon as possible.”

“What can I do?” muttered Jeongin.

“I don’t know, hide from Juhee or get Y/n out of here. I told Juhee you weren’t here.”

Jeongin turned back to you, with a slightly worried expression to which you brought your hand to his cheek looking at him with concern.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing. Shall we watch the exhibition?”

You knew he was lying and noticed that he didn’t look as good as he did a few seconds ago. Jeongin wanted to take you by the hand to start walking, but you stopped him.

“I already know every picture in here anyway, do you want to go get some fresh air? I have to tell Hyu-”

“He’s fine with that, I’ll let him know, grab your stuff and let’s go outside.”

You blinked at how quickly he responded, you felt worried about him since you knew something was up. And as soon as you grabbed your stuff, you were both already outside near where he parked his car.

You moved closer to him, drawing your body to him and holding his soft face again. You thought about how you hadn’t mentioned Juhee because you didn’t want to get upset but he was the one who seemed upset; you wanted to say things like hey, did you know Nam Juhee is getting married? but you thought certain things from the past weren’t worth bringing up.

Jeongin hugged you, you looked at his face closely and in detail and your mouth had to abruptly drop:

“You never told me why you broke up with Juhee.”

Jeongin sighed and lowered his gaze to stare into your eyes. It was time to speak from the heart.

“Because I didn’t love her. I could never love her like I love you.”

His lips twitched, as did every inch of your insides at the shocking news. That meant so many things that you slid your hands from his face to his shoulders.

“I love you” Jeongin confessed, “I don’t care if it’s too soon or too late, I waited too long and I’m here now and I want you to know that I love you, I always have.”

You floated for a few moments, your heart beating intensely but slowly, almost trying to burst out of your chest so it could caress Jeongin.

“Jeongin… you know what, I’ve always loved you too. I still do.”

You looked at him, not blinking for a second treasuring every moment of him with your eyes wide and bright. Jeongin smiled.

“You should date,” he spoke innocently, between giggles and holding you tighter, “Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

You widened your smile, you felt small again, young, being asked by your ultimate crush, but it was more than that, it was a love so intense you couldn’t leave.

You nodded, “Yes” you kissed him quickly, “What day is today?”

“August tenth” Jeongin replied.

You smiled warmly at him and rejoined your lips in a long kiss, there was no more worry just now, just the two of you after finally being able to tell each other that you loved each other under the moonlight. It was cheesy, but so cute that Jeongin’s chest exploded in excitement.

“Mm, do you want to sleep in my apartment?” he whispered between your lips and before you could create a sizzling scenario he spoke again, “Just to rest and sleep.”

You laughed softly, “Okay.”

You let your friends and roommates know that you were going to stay over with Jeongin tonight, clarifying that just to sleep. And amidst laughter and a very sweet Jeongin holding your hand as he drove, you made it all the way to his apartment.

“Mmm, I must have something for you to sleep comfortably” Jeongin said, looking for clothes for you.

Until he finally pulled out one of his oversize shirts and a pair of cloth pajama pants. You changed in his room after he left to give you privacy and pulled the pajama drawstring so you could tie it to your body, even so both garments were still too big for you.

Jeongin came in, finding you adorable in his clothes. He put on his pajamas, comfortable shirt and also a pair of thin cloth pants. You removed your makeup and finally approached Jeongin’s bed a little shyly where he was already lying down.

“Come here” he said to you, in such a manly voice that it almost made you shiver.

Once you lay down next to him, he picked you up and pulled you closer to him, hugging you and making you lean your chin on his chest.

“You’re adorable,” he said again, smiling with dimples in his cheeks.

He kissed you slowly, caressing your entire back and never taking his lips off you. Your body was slightly over his, you brought one of your bent legs up on him and the innocent kisses became more and more passionate. You were both starting to get aroused and panting, so shyly you both stopped right there. And you slept peacefully on his chest.

The next morning you were both awakened by the sound of Jeongin’s ringtone, he had already heard a myriad of notification sounds and ignored them, until a call managed to wake you up. Still asleep, Jeongin took his cell phone from his nightstand and turned to look at you happily, you were stirring in your spot on the bed, stretching your body and opening your eyes in such an angelic way for him.

“Good morning” Jeongin whispered in a husky voice to which you just smiled.

Jeongin knew it was early because of the light in his window and at last he saw that it was Hyunjin who was bothering him so early on a Sunday. Jeongin answered, still carving his eyes and yawning.

“Jeongin tell me you already explained to Y/n, you’re all over the fucking news with the weeding thing!!!” Hyunjin exclaimed from the other end of the line.

Jeongin abruptly sat up with his eyes wide as saucers, slightly alerting you to his violent movement.

“No! What?!”

Jeongin’s scream startled you, making you wake up completely, he sounded really terrified. Jeongin stood up completely from the bed to walk to his window.

“Dude, fix this now. I’ll be there for you for anything! Let me know everything!”

Hyunjin hung up the call and Jeongin realized the myriad of messages he had, from close friends completely confused, to complete strangers congratulating him. His assistant had flooded him with messages from luxury brands asking to dress him up and Jeongin sighed at the thought that congratulatory flowers would soon be knocking on his door.

“What’s wrong, Innie?” you spoke.

“Nothing, nothing, it was Hyunjin.”

You knew again that he was lying, his nervous countenance and smile were so easy to read. You also looked for your cell phone but realized you must have left it in your bag that was surely in Jeongin’s living room.

“Ugh, I left my phone in my bag” you suddenly said to which Jeongin couldn’t have been more relieved.

He crawled into the bed to get close to you. Faking a smile, he brushed his nose with yours and said:

“Let’s go have breakfast, shall we?”

You nodded happily, saying you’d like to go to the bathroom first and he warned he’d be in the kitchen waiting for you.

“Mm, pancakes, eggs? Or would you like to order something? Do you want to go to your apartment for more comfortable clothes?” he asked you, once he saw you walking towards him while he had his palms resting on the kitchen island.

“Mmm I’m not that hungry, do you want anything?”

“Coffee is fine with me.”

You were about to approach him but remembered your cell phone in your bag to which you changed direction, excusing yourself with a nervous smile and hurrying to his living room so you could grab your phone. Jeongin stood confused, waiting for you.

You and your obsession with checking your cell phone in the mornings upon waking up was perhaps your big mistake that particular morning. You had many text messages from your friends, alerting you, you thought something important had happened so you quickly entered the first group chat with over 100 messages. Your heart stopped, one of your friends sent a screenshot of a news: The most coveted young millionaire is about to get married: Yang Jeongin and Nam Juhee, heiress of Nam Group.

You scrolled down the screen with fear, eyes wide open as you saw pictures of the two of them, old high school pictures calling them a true and preserved love, articles telling you everything you should know about the wedding of the year, and your worried friends texting you:

is this the yang jeongin you’re talking to? at first I thought it was a joke but even the nam came out to confirm it y/n please tell us it’s not true!!! how are you?

It hurt you because they knew how much you loved Jeongin. You suddenly became a zombie absorbed by the news, searching for yourself every single article on the internet, filling yourself with information you didn’t want to read. Pictures of Juhee picking out a dress and showing off her ring, saying how much she loves Jeongin and that they both wanted to do it as soon as possible. You thought it was ridiculous you almost laughed, it felt unreal you also almost thought it was a nightmare and you hadn’t woken up yet.

Jeongin thought you took too long, so he went to check on you.

“Y/n…” he called your name softly, to find you leaning back on one of his couches, your eyes glued to your cell phone screen.

Fuck. He thought over and over again. He called your name again and you felt it like a distant voice.

You looked up, meeting the worried face of your barely boyfriend, who was walking towards you. Your face reflected nothing, your lips were sealed and only your eyes reflected disappointment and astonishment, causing Jeongin a pain in his chest to see you in a way you had never seen him before.

“You’re getting married?”

Was all you could say, wanting an explanation, but so skeptical of everything at this point.

“No, please, that’s all fake, it’s all nonsense…”

“And when were you going to tell me? Only to you I’m your girlfriend but to the rest of the world you’re Nam Juhee’s fiancé?!” you snapped.

“Y/n, please” he begged, trying to touch your arms, thinking what exactly to say.

You dodged his touch and turned away from him.

“It’s a fake wedding!”

“So you gonna marry her?!”

You didn’t want to listen anymore, you thought you knew Jeongin but he wasn’t who you thought he was after all, you thought. He was lying and saying nothing was going on, he was confessing to you that he loved you, you didn’t know if that was true after all either. You angrily made your way to his room, without thinking clearly you started to undress so you could put your dress back on.

“Y/n…” Jeongin went after you, but turned around when he noticed you were undressing, “Let me explain, it was something stupid my grandfather proposed and I flatly refused, I really did; but the damn old fuck wouldn’t listen to me and continued with his crazy game, I’m seriously sorry, please listen to me. I’m not getting married, I’ll come out and say it’s all a lie.”

You didn’t listen to him, you were struggling to put on your dress as fast as you could until you succeeded and quickly walked out, past him. Jeongin chased you back to his doorway where you were putting on your shoes. You ignored him until he stopped his door handle with his big hand, blocking your way.

“Y/n, please listen to me” he said again in a pleading tone.

You saw him furious, he looked agitated as if he had been exercising, his mouth was dry, he was terrified of losing you.

“It’s fake, it’s not gonna happen. I love you.”

His tone of voice was sincere but you were so blinded in anger that you put your hand over his on his doorknob.

“Talk to me when you clear it up. Let me out” you replied coldly.

Jeongin let you out, he followed after you, waiting for the elevator to open.

“I hope you can please try to understand me” he said again.

As the elevator opened, it revealed itself to be Juhee inside walking up to Jeongin’s hallway along with a tall stout guy wearing black with a thuggish look. You and Jeongin watched them with surprise and disappointment, it all looked comical, he told you it was fake but suddenly his future wife appeared in the elevator to his apartment, it was ridiculous.

Jeongin sighed in frustration as her showing up didn’t help him at all. Juhee looked at you in surprise, thinking the obvious, you had spent the night with Jeongin, but judging by your expressions, the two of you didn’t look happy and it was something she was afraid of, Jeongin coming back to you.

You hopped in as soon as they left and averted your gaze from Jeongin until the doors closed; frustrated, wanting to run all the way home.

“Who the fuck let you back in?” spat Jeongin.

“That was Y/N, are you with her?” Juhee hastened to say, raising her eyebrows in concern.

“What do you care, oh my god” Jeongin rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“We need to talk right now, please” Juhee begged, following Jeongin who was walking back to his apartment, ignoring her.

Jeongin was about to grab his stuff and go after you as soon as possible.

“What the fuck..?” he said annoyed as he felt the big guy stopped him from closing his door so Juhee could enter uninvited.

“I know you’ve been seeing Y/n, everyone knows, your family has been watching you and…” Jeongin watched her say, with distaste on his face, Juhee turned to the guy, “Can you give us privacy please? Thank you.”

The thug walked out of Jeongin’s apartment just as she instructed, closing the door behind him.

“Good dog,” Jeongin joked.

Jeongin was so annoyed by the fact that she was coming towards him talking about who he should be with as if she was entitled, one of the reasons he broke up with her besides the fact that he was betraying his heart himself, was because Juhee slept with one of his teachers.

“Jeongin, they are watching you and if you don’t go through with the wedding thing they are capable of… hurt Y/n.”

He sighed, frowned his face in annoyance and touching his forehead, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Junhee pulled out an iPad, showing pictures of each of your encounters with Jeongin, having dinner, going into his studio, taking you home; he didn't know how to react so once again he didn't take it seriously, except for the part where she mention hurting you, and it did scare him a little that you were being spied on.

“Are you spying on us or…?”

“Jeongin I’m serious, I think you’re aware of what your own family can do if you don’t listen to them.”

That sentence made his blood run cold, she was so right, but he didn’t want to see it clearly. His family could be a monster at times, but to such a degree of going so far as to hurt you? Jeongin didn’t know what to expect from the Yangs anymore.

“And what the fuck are they planning to do? I won’t let them hurt Y/n and I can’t marry you and fulfill their stupid whim either. I will never fucking marry you, Nam Juhee!” Jeongin burst out, it was being too much information and feelings in such a short time.

“You can just pretend!”

“Pretend what? Be a perfect husband for you? What the fuck is wrong with everyone? This isn’t the last fucking century to arrange a marriage.”

“Jeongin this is for real, did you see the fucking guy outside? He’s a fucking hitman your family hired to give me the details of your affair with Y/n, waiting for me to snap so I can send him to hurt her, putting all the blame on me!”

“What?” he said incredulously, ”Affair? Mine with her is not an affair, you and I are nothing, don’t talk about her like that.”

“Jeongin if you don’t get married… Fuck, you don’t know but your grandfather has some kind of terminal illness and arranged everything for this wedding. Do whatever you want with Y/n, I don’t care, but you must hide, a marriage with you is in my family’s favor.”

He ran his tongue the inside of his mouth, annoyed and incredulous, he couldn’t believe the typical excuse of the damn old man dying. Jeongin glared at her one last time, grabbed his things and walked out of his apartment leaving Juhee there amidst the tension and previous screams. He went out looking for you but it was useless, you didn’t answer his calls or messages, they wouldn’t let him into your apartment, so desperate he sent a message to Hyunjin, telling him to tell you that nothing was true and that he was about to stop everything.

Furious with no other alternative, he drove to his childhood mansion, where his parents, grandfather and younger brother lived. He stormed out in a fury, being rude to the poor maid who opened the door for him.

“Where the fuck is everyone, huh?!” he shouted, stranded and accelerated at the immense entrance.

“Mr. Yang Jeongin, they’re in the fifth room on the second floor,” the maid answered him timidly.

Jeongin did not respond and breathing heavily in anger, he pushed open the large doors, revealing in himself his grandfather in a hospital bed, with a nurse putting him on IVs and his parents sitting in front of him.

“Oh, so is it true? You’re actually fucking dying?!” he shouted without thinking.

“Yang Jeongin!” his parents scolded him, quickly getting up from their chairs, “Let’s talk outside, please” his mother whispered to him.

“No, I’ll do the talking. You want me to get married? Fine, I’ll do it, but with who I decide to do it with. And if you don’t have enough time left and want to see me do it already, then I’ll do it now, I’ll marry Y/n.”

Everyone seemed startled by the news, more so his grandfather with the disrespectful and raised tone of voice in which he spoke to him.

“You're not going to marry Y/n, are you insane?” this time his mother snapped.

“Ah, so do you remember Y/n?” her son challenged them.

“I’m not going to let you marry a servant’s daughter, what are you thinking, Yang Jeongin?” his mother looked at him in terror.

“What? I thought you wanted to see me married.”

Jeongin’s mother dragged him out of the room, closing the doors and letting her husband reassure his father.

“Just marry Juhee and let your grandfather believe you; do with Y/n whatever you want, make her your mistress and buy her a damn beach house, but marry Juhee.”

Jeongin was unable to believe what he was hearing, bullshit after bullshit. His body was as tense as it had ever been before.

“Why are you insisting that I do it?”

“Because it will bring us many benefits! Think about it.”

“Then what? I should stay married until the old fucker dies?”

“Yang Jeongin, don’t talk about your family like that! Every family has to make sacrifices, even for the ones they love. Our kind should stay with the same kind.”

“You are not my family. Don't talk to me about love, what do you know about that?” he spat in annoyance, scowling at her with his gaze.

“Just marry Juhee, or you know the unspeakable things your grandfather is capable of” she threatened him.

Jeongin let out a cynical laugh, deep down knowing the kind of psychotics the heartless rich could become.

“So what, you’re going to kill her if I don’t show up for the fucking ceremony?” his mother raised her eyebrows, “Do it!” he challenged her, blinded in anger not knowing what he was saying, “Kill her, do it!” he screamed in her face like a little kid, “Do it and I’ll fucking kill myself too. Will you be able to take the blame for killing your son too?”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Yang Jeongin, it’s a fake wedding! Do what you decide best for the maid’s daughter if you want to protect her.”

His eye twitched in fury and stress. He hated his family, hated the way they talked about you, hated every part of his miserable life. Her heart was empty without you, how could you possibly agree to be with a man who would publicly be married?

[…]

5:30 in the afternoon. You missed Jeongin, your anger had ceased and you wanted to hear his voice again, you wanted to listen patiently to what he had to tell you. You didn’t want to answer the thousands of calls and messages he sent you, you just decided to show up at his studio without telling him, where you just recently expressed so much love, hoping to find your lover there, and you did, his car was parked in front of the place. You knocked on the door and seconds later, Jeongin greeted you with a shocked expression and his big bright eyes, hugging you while whispering your name breathlessly, he couldn’t get enough of saying it and he couldn’t get enough of you either, he needed you in his arms so he hugged you tightly, as if he hadn’t seen you in years. His face got lost in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and brushing against your skin, making him feel in heaven again.

“I came because… I know you’re working on something important and you have to finish that thing about your project” you lied, wanting to sound cold but your voice cracked as you lay in his arms.

Jeongin let go of you, he sniffed hard, and as he nodded, you noticed he was about to cry and was holding back, breaking your heart.

He let you in without saying anything and you followed him into the room he used for lighting, cameras and equipment. Jeongin was very sensitive and understood if you didn’t want to talk, just with being near you and you being willing to see him was enough for him.

“Just, this outfit is missing and we’re done with photographs” he spoke in a thick and slightly weak voice, showing you a beautiful white dress, causing you to shiver at the irony.

You looked into his eyes and moved closer to him, you were about to push the dress away and kiss him as he looked so perfect and vulnerable, but the weakness of the moment won you over, thinking that it might be the only time you will wear a white dress together with Jeongin before his ridiculous wedding.

You took the garment and started to dress in front of him shamelessly, making Jeongin blush and avert his eyes, but he wasn’t strong enough to not to see you this time. You moved closer to him, turning your back to him so he can help you with the back zipper; his long fingers pulled up the tiny zipper, you felt the warmth of his breath, he caressed your shoulders for a moment and abruptly you turned around.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make it public about the fake wedding” you blurted out, unable to contain yourself any longer.

Jeongin averted his gaze downward and swallowed nervously.

“Y/n… I, I’m getting married, I’m gonna do it.”

Your chest tightened to an enormous intensity, not the kind of words you expected to hear. Jeongin expected a bad reaction from you, but you remained silent, wanting to hear an explanation. He looked up and met your kind gaze, watching him intently.

“I’ll do it… just to protect you, they’re threatening me that something might happen to you if I don’t, I’m sorry. I’d rather sell my image and sign an insignificant piece of paper than let anything happen to you.”

You couldn’t think of anything but him, so you just said, “And I won’t be able to see you again?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after I told you I was going to do it.”

You sighed, Jeongin was again on the verge of tears.

“I don’t want to be the other woman” you confessed to which he pouted with his chin quivering as he nodded, ”But I don’t want to lose you either. Because… you don’t love her, right?”

“Of course not, I only love you…. I-I’m so sorry” he stammered finally to burst into tears.

Again you fell to pieces, you held his face as you tried to calm him down and watched him cry, cry for a love that he waited so long for and that he really wanted to be the purest and most adored treasure of both of you. You managed to calm him, wiping his wet cheeks and you watched each other, aching and only with the spark of hope of your love for each other. Your lips met only to reaffirm that there were still feelings in both of you, you did it so slow and desperate, like a goodbye kiss, releasing every energy from your bodies, touching him one last time before sharing him with another woman.

He began to caress you, his wild kisses involved his tongue and both of your bodies were caught between the seduction and pleasure of the moment, becoming completely aroused. Your hands moved down from his face to his marked pecs letting them rest there; Jeongin drew you closer to his body to the point of being able to feel his throbbing erection, absolutely devoted and working only for you, his body reacting and operating only for you. Your core throbbed in satisfaction and each new caress burned your body, you were as needy for sex as you had ever been, so needy for him and his demonstration of love.

Jeongin sensed the synchronization of your arousal with his own in your heavy, panting breathing so his soft lips moved down to your neck, kissing it, causing sweet moans to escape from your lips that were the motivating and pleasurable music for Jeongin. He subtly licked and nibbled your skin, unleashing the arousal of your femininity, moistening your entrance with warmth and intensity. Jeongin continued to lower his kisses, holding you tightly by your waist, he kissed your breast and pulled your dress up, tracing his sweet caresses down your abdomen to your intimate area covered by your panties, he raised his gaze to look at you with a small smile before pulling the garment completely down, leaving your pussy exposed. You sighed at the sensation of your uncovered pussy and felt his breath hit the skin of your mons venus to then be filled with pleasure with his lips kissing it and taking your entire pussy with his mouth, parting your wet folds and starting to lick and suck you, weakening your body, driving you crazy as you were perfectly taken care of in such a sensitive area.

You held onto his shoulder and your other hand stroked his hair, you threw your head back as your chest and abdomen rose and fell battling between the intensity and tension of emotions, while Jeongin enjoyed himself with his face buried in your core. His long, slick finger massaged your clit, while his tongue flicked past tasting your labia and with his other hand he leaned in to open your pussy and relished every inch of it. You gasped, climaxing with his tongue inside you, your body swooning at the force of your orgasm. Jeongin’s cock throbbed choking in his pants, but he just wanted you to have your moment and treasure every sensation he could make you get to feel.

[…]

“So you’ll just pretend until your grandfather dies..” you said, walking into his room, ready to be wrapped in his strong arms again.

“Mmhum” Jeongin murmured, calmer at having you, but at the same time uncontrollably uneasy about the situation.

He took hold of your hands, intertwining them, standing in front of you, unwilling to talk about it, but you had too many questions if you were going to live under Juhee’s shadow, being Jeongin’s mistress.

“And… Will you live together?” the answer was going to break your heart.

You didn’t want to imagine anymore, you couldn’t bear the fact that he would return home every day to her, Juhee would show off her husband and marriage to everyone while you would have to live in messy sheets of a deception with his divided love.

“Y/n, please” he whispered, to get you to stop.

“You’re right. If I will be your mistress I better start behaving like one” you joked, hiding your pain, you let go of his hands and brought your arms up to wrap around his neck.

“Don’t ever say that. You’ll never be that to me; you are everything. My true love.”

You smiled broadly at his corny phrase that made it turn warm to the depths of your soul. You loved him too. You spread your smile to him and you kissed again, more relaxed until the action became more passionate. The temperature rose, leading Jeongin to caress your pussy under your skirt with his fingers; after about your situation a few hours ago, he had this thought of making you his again and again in a passionate union of souls and bodies and, he felt more free to touch you.

You moaned still with your lips trapped in his as you let yourself be carried away by his caresses on your center, his fingers pulling away the fabric and touching you pleasurably all over your folds and sensitive spot, you trembled unable to resist anymore and your sweet lover surprised you with his thumb pressing perfectly on your clit and two of his fingers teasing your insides, filling you but leaving you insatiable.

Jeongin pulled away from you, brushing his nose against yours, enjoying your expression of pleasure and soft whimpers. You had never desired Jeongin sexually, until now, just when he became quite the man and gentleman who knew exactly how to treat you, how to drive you crazy and push you to the edge with his precise touches and movements. Your center moistened his fingers and in the cloud of lust you couldn’t stop thinking about his cock filling you and controlling every inch of you.

He found a rhythm with his fingers, digging effortlessly with his long, nimble digits, almost deep into your loins, bringing you so close to your orgasm.

“Je-jeongin, please.”

You knew exactly what you were begging for, you wanted to be taken by him and his manhood. Jeongin smiled and withdrew his hand from you, making you sigh.

“Let me see you naked, love” he requested, his eyes dark in desire still gazing lovingly at you.

And you quickly obeyed him, showing yourself purely vulnerable in front of him, ready to join your bodies together. Jeongin took you again and kissed you, squeezing and caressing your naked ass and still between kisses, you helped him undress completely, revealing his worked body and well endowed cock, making you throb at the thought of being filled by it, after seeing it finally.

“Let me put on a condom, make yourself comfortable on the bed” he said sweetly, giving you a kiss on your forehead as if it was already a normal thing between you.

You climbed onto his bed, flustered, with your wet pussy and aroused body, waiting impatiently as you watched him reach over to his nightstand and pull a condom from there and then put it on.

He positioned himself between your legs, his fingers again teasing your entrance for a few moments, then lining up his stiff, throbbing cock at your entrance, slowly sliding it in until it made you squeal as it stretched every part of you and felt it brush against your cervix. You both gasped, Jeongin feeling on cloud nine with your walls taking his cock so well.

“Does it feel good?” he added, somewhere between worried and excited.

“Mm, yes Jeongin, you feel so good.”

You hugged him, gently digging your nails into his broad, worked back and scratching him unintentionally as his thrusts were perfection, the latex wrapped around his cock sliding deliciously into you, pounding you slowly and deeply, letting him take you, filling you to capacity. Jeongin’s soft groans in your ear drove you further over the edge, he babbled cute things in his husky voice and kissed you sweetly from time to time, blinding him in lust to the idea of having you all to himself, demonstrating all his love for you.

He continued, thrusting intently, his hips performing a series of delightful motions into your core, his cock bulging over your belly, it felt so good that you cried his name until you arched your back and released the good pain and tension into an orgasm, surrendered between passion and love for him.

[…]

It was supposed to be one of the happiest days of a man whose soul is about to be united for life with the social approval of his acquaintances, with the love of his life. But Jeongin felt miserable, since that was not true, his true love that moved every inch of him would not be waiting for him at the altar today. You were lying in your bed, your heart open, waiting for news that the wedding was over so you could run into his arms and love each other on the sly.

Jeongin could only think of every part of you, all of you that completed him to perfection and the passionate and sweet act you shared before the wedding night, making love completely devoted, promising each other again a lasting love over any adversity, reciting truthful vows into the air as he caressed your naked body entangled in his sheets with his scent.

What rewarded him, was that the day after his wedding it’s gonna be the grand opening of his first exhibition in the gallery you both had worked so passionately on, dedicating it to his true muse, calling it in honor of you and only showing pictures of you, just to piss off the world and show them whose heart truly belongs to him.

Jeongin looked at himself in the mirror, his lip began to tremble and heavy tears slid down his cheeks. His hair was perfectly styled, his expensive suit tailored for him and he was about to leave, where he was surrounded by people and media ready to write fallacies about an empty and fake wedding, Jeongin thought that they believed he had it all, a kind millionaire about to marry another rich beautiful woman, but the truth is that he was and had nothing without you.

｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆｡°✩

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 3.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry this part is so short

You stood in the drawing room of Kew, waiting for your mother and father to arrive in just a few minutes. Instead of a huge breakfast in the dining room, you opted for a light tea in a more casual setting. Honestly, you were mildly annoyed. The only thing you wanted to do after people returned from their church services, that they never attended weekly because no one cared about the priest admonishing them, was go to the Featherington house. You were shocked that Colin was calling Marina. But friends didn’t always fall in love.

It wasn’t like Penelope was upset about it. She didn’t even like Colin. But like your mother you wanted to matchmake someone and figured they would have been the easiest couple to form. But you wanted to spy on Colin and Marina under the guise of aiding in chaperoning with Penelope since Lady Featherington was running around between girls and their callers.  

Your thoughts about who to matchmake were interrupted by your parents arriving. You poured tea for them. Breakfast was a bit awkward in a way it had never been before. George and Charlotte were assessing you intently. You got in two bites of bread when the physician entered. Your parents continued their conversation while you were being checked over. The physician made little comments for the nurse to jot down. Overall, you were fine. That seemed to satisfy your mother and father. There was a glint in Charlotte’s eye. 

“The King an— Everyone, out.” 

The room, aside from Brimsley and Reynolds, cleared out. 

“George and I have decided that we’d like to give you an opportunity. There is an opera coming up. Agatha and her friend Violet will be attending. You may come with. You will meet them before the show starts and then we will stay to watch the entire performance. Afterwards, you must go home. No exceptions.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I wo—” 

“Calm yourself. You know getting excited makes your condition worse.” 

You sat back down, trying not to bounce up and down. She was right after all. Being overly excited made you sweaty or a little hot for some reason and being too warm made you start to see things or think strange things. When your parents left, you ran to your wardrobe. 

The dresses needed to be fancy but not too fancy since it was a sit-down event. You picked a yellow dress with short puff sleeves. It ended just above the bottom of your ankle — very stylish for the times. Pairing it with light blue gloves that went past your elbows, you added a light blue skirt piece that made a small train. 

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Brimsley said. 

“I have to agree.” Both Pandora and Reynolds looked at each other, shocked they said the same thing at the same time. 

“Thank you. Shall we go? Reynolds, would you like to be dropped at home to see Father?” 

“That would be nice, Your Highness, thank you.” 

“Then let us leave now.” 

You rolled your eyes in the carriage, setting down your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers. 

“It is utterly ridiculous. She is a disgraceful woman. I tolerated the gossip but speculating death, wishing death on my father is something I cannot accept nor tolerate. How dare she?” 

Your confidantes agreed with you and shared their own opinions on society and gossip. 

Whispers started to spread throughout the opera house while people still rolled in and music still played. How could it not? The youngest royal child was actually outside. There was no opening for the mouth on this particular mask which meant this was not your introduction. You might speak to a lucky few but there would be no speeches or announcements tonight. People couldn’t hear you from far away with ceramic blocking your mouth. You stuck close to your mother while everyone tried to look at you or talk to you. 

“Lady Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury yelled from across the room. “Do join us.” 

Violet tried to conceal her wide eyes and smile as she grabbed Daphne’s arm before her daughter could walk away from whoever she was trying to avoid. She made eye contact with you. You watched as she rather frantically waved over someone else. 

Anthony — or should you call him the viscount for the evening — began walking towards you, bowing to the Queen before turning his full attention to you. You let him take your hand and give it a kiss. A kiss that you noted was considerably longer by a minimum of five seconds than when he kissed you as Miss Beckett. So it was definitely Violet trying to set up the princess with her son and not the valet with Colin.    

You let Anthony talk your ear off about his responsibilities as the eldest and his horseback riding hobby, notably leaving out the details of riding through the mud and staying out there for hours. He was considerably more boring when trying to impress a woman. Ignoring the whispers that permeated through the room, you tried to focus on your friend. 

You motioned for him to lean in so you could speak into his ear and actually let him hear you rather than sounding muffled, practically silencing the hall. Anthony laughed at the joke you told which caused both of your mothers to turn around. This was the Anthony you liked better. Violet gasped when you placed a hand on her son’s arm — your mother raised her eyebrows as she and Lady Danbury gave you a slight nod of approval. 

“Will you escort me to our box, Viscount Bridgerton?” 

“Please, call me Anthony.” 

“Lord Bridgerton, that is most forward when we don’t know each other.” 

“I was told royals didn’t obey our rules of upper society.” 

The two of you started up the stairs, away from prying eyes, that led up to the Queen’s box. 

“Anthony?” 

“Now we speak of first names.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I will allow you to call me by mine, just this single occasion. Anthony, where are the other Bridgerton siblings? If I remember correctly, you have seven of them? Miss Bridgerton is here but I do not see the others.” 

“Truthfully, they were very bored by the show being put on tonight. We’ve seen it before. I’m merely here to aid my mother and chaperone my sister. Have you seen this show before?” 

“If I have then it was when I was very little.” 

“Well, then please do not let my words discourage your enjoyment of the performance. Here is your stop.” He extended a hand to help you up the short steps into the box. “Y/N, thank you for the flowers from the other day. Truly, they are appreciated.” 

You studied his face for a moment. He really was handsome. His hair didn’t cover as much of his face this evening as it usually did whenever you visited. The stark colors of his black and white attire made his features stand out. 

“I am glad you liked them. Now is where I leave you for the evening, Lord Bridgerton. I shall hope to see you some more once I formally introduce myself to society.” 

“I will look forward to that day. Goodbye… Y/N.” 

“Goodbye, Anthony.” 

Taking your seat, you waited for your mother and her friends to come to the box. The smile on Charlotte’s face grew wider the closer she got to the box. She was going on about Anthony. Obviously, you were going to have many suitors to entertain but a viscount was certainly a very important suitor and only made your prospects have to be better in their courting. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to the privy,” you told your mother when you felt your throat start to tighten up. 

She just gave you a nod. The shadows of the opera house were closing in on you and you couldn’t calm your mind down. You needed to be in a place with more candlelight. You jumped at the sound of several dogs barking from the shadows. They were big creatures. You had never seen them but you could tell from their bark and — when you got too close — how their breath fanned across the top of your head. Hastening your steps to get away, you ran straight into Violet. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I decided to take a walk after going to the privy and wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

The woman in front of you smiled. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold to ask? Would you like to attend a dinner we are hosting? The Duke of Hastings will be there. I understand that you aren’t yet introduced but it woul—” 

“I shall love to come. Just tell me when.” 

“Saturday evening.” 

“Perfect.” 

Saturday evening couldn’t have come any sooner. You were tired of counting the floor titles in the bathroom and needed to leave. For the sake of your valets, you hadn’t snuck out at all that week.

You turned to your valets. “I will be back in a few hours.” 

“Please be careful,” Pandora said. 

“I always am.” 

“Not really.” You heard someone mutter inside the carriage. 

Marshall escorted you in. You had to stop yourself from smiling, remembering that he had no clue who you were. It was almost alarming when everyone — including the Duke of Hastings — stood when you entered the dining room. You weren’t sure why you didn't expect it. Perhaps you were already too used to your disguise as Miss Beckett. You gave a slight curtsey. 

“I apologize for being late.” 

“No. You aren’t late at all,” Anthony said as he started to gather his plate. 

You shook your head. “Oh, stay where you are.” 

“But, Your Highness.” 

“I can afford to not be the head of a table for a single night.” You looked around. “I shall sit across from Miss Daphne Bridgerton.” 

“She knows your name!” Hyacinth’s voice rose three octaves. You figured you could make her night by having the princess knowledgeable about the Bridgertons. 

Colin and Benedict scrambled to pull their chairs apart so you could sit in between them. You waved Marshall away, plating your own food. You could feel the silence of the dinner table as you did things the normal way you would at Kew or Buckingham House.

They also might have been preoccupied with your disguise rather than the way you dragged your own spoon through the mashed potatoes. It was natural. Your siblings had told you all about how people would scrutinize the different masks you would wear. They'd try their hardest to get a real glimpse of your face.

The eye holes had sheer coverings on them that made it hard to see your true eye color. And when it came to your mouth. Your maids had taken their painstakingly slow time making sure the makeup covered up an unique qualities around your mouth and changed the shape of your lips to a shape unrecognizable to you at all. Hungry mamas with daughters they'd want to be in your court or sons they'd want to court you are able to sniff out something like the tiniest wrinkle by the bottom of your lip and use that to scout the whole ton until they found you without the mask on.

It happened to Edward countless of times and was the reason for all the rules regarding the masks in the first place. You looked up after cutting your chicken. 

“What were you all talking about before I arrived?” 

“Lady Whistledown,” Eloise cut in before anyone could stop her. 

“Really? Tell me more.” 

“You want to know?” 

“Of course I do. I must know her identity. However I must say I will be having a private word with her about not publishing speculation of my father’s death.” 

“How is he?” 

“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. No matter, though, I need to know every thought you have on our mysterious Lady Whistledown?” 

You enjoyed the bickering between everyone. There wasn’t even a firm thought on what class Whistledown belonged to. In your opinion it had to have been an upper class woman. Only someone like that could have enough time on their hands and still survive day to day needs. You dipped your fork into the potatoes. 

“Viscount Bridgerton, I must say that any correspondence between the royals and the Bridgerton House should be sent to Kew. I stay there now.” 

“Correspondence?” Violet asked, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice. 

“Yes. I shall need to understand the ton more than what I have studied. Don’t bother putting them together. I much prefer to read individual letters. Now, I have engagements already arranged for tomorrow so I must be on my way. However, I would love to attend dinner again. Goodnight, Lady Bridgerton, Viscount, Bridgertons, Your Grace.” 

Anthony stood up from the table. “Let me escort you to your carriage.” 

“That would be much appreciated, Lord Bridgerton.” 

~~

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I implore you all to remember that gossip, particularly baseless gossip, can be a dangerous thing. While we all are very entertained by Lady Whistledown, remember that you must discover the truth for yourself. I would hate to see lives ruined over entertainment. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover

Dear Viscount Bridgerton, 

The dinner at your house was very lovely. Your family seems to be a wonderful group of people. I am sorry for keeping my lady’s maid away for so long. She has been in Ireland, procuring plant seeds and fabrics for me. Please fret no more for she will be back soon. But I do have to say our correspondence might be limited to letters for a majority of our current time. Until I am introduced to society, it is not wise for me to constantly be out. I shall look forward to more times spent with the Bridgertons at a later date. 

Yours Truly, 

Princess Y/N Hanover 

You finished signing the letter, handing it to Pandora to take to the press for copies to be made. Moving an entire printing house from Buckingham to Kew wasn’t exactly quick and easy but your staff had managed to do it in no time at all. For the time being, Kew was entirely self-sufficient. 

“Please take the letters for the Bridgertons to their house after you have visited the press.”  

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Brimsley, what is on the schedule after the physician leaves?” 

“You wanted to ride horses and then prepare a bouquet for the ball tomorrow night to be delivered by one of us.” 

“Yes, thank you. And after that?” 

Reynolds looked at you and then his partner. You had just made the schedule no less than an hour ago. It didn’t seem normal for you to not know. Their eye contact didn’t waiver as they silently communicated to not say a word but just answer all your questions. You got up, moving to your wardrobe to get a petticoat for outside. 

“Ah, yes, Brimsley. Are we preparing the bouquet tonight before or after the physici…an…”

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realized you had asked the question already. Brimsley and Reynolds were a tad too slow. You were already in the wardrobe, trying to calm yourself down. Every time a sob left your mouth or you begged them not to tell your parents caused some pain in their hearts. Reynolds stopped Pandora from leaving, handing the letters to a different lady-in-waiting. 

You looked up in the dark space when you heard the knocking. It was hard to ignore the dogs in the shadows just waiting to snap at you. But the dark stopped the heavens from coming in. It was always a compromise. And since the heavens confused your mind and blocked your memory, the dogs would have to wait. 

“You can open it.” 

Pandora stuck her head in, trying to prevent too much light from coming in. “You’re stronger than whatever you have, you know? It doesn’t matter. None of it does… Maybe you should show the planets and shadow dogs and other shadow creatures that they cannot control a princess. They do not control you.” 

Reynolds sighed as he said a quick prayer to not be fired. “Maybe going to the ball would show the shadows that they cannot control you.” 

You didn’t really have a choice. Pandora practically pulled you out of the closet and started making plans for tomorrow’s ball, including how to enjoy yourself but stay hidden.

(part 4)...

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[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 19

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 18, Part 20

Warning! This chapter has child abuse, neglect, racism/classism and other sensitive topics! This is a imposter sagau so expect these things frequently. Attention! This chapter is extra long as it deals with Y/N's past and present. But I don't want to force a backstory that you guys might not want. Therefore you can read and choose what part of the backstory you want to be 'canon' for your Y/N. Whether be all, parts or none of it. It's your choice.

Your earliest memory was of a hospital. A vase of dying daisies, a child-sized bedding and a window slightly cracked to let in the night breeze were the only things you remember from that day.

A nurse gently knocked before walking in without looking up from the papers in his hands. 

"How are you feeling today Y/N? I hope you aren't suffering from nightma-Oh! You're awake!"

The brief exclamation from the startled nurse pieced you in that you weren't supposed to be awake. Or maybe, you haven't been awake for a long time?

Dry cracked lips wheeze out your small plea. "W-Water…" Coming back to himself, the nurse adhered to your request and brought the cup to your lips.

It was a cool relief to your aching throat and the first thing you asked him was.

"Who's Y/N?"

That cup of water and clinically clean blanket was the comfort you had during the next flurry of events.

That day, laying in a bed on the pediatric floor of a hospital, you learned that your parents were dead.

An accident that would have presumably traumatized you had little to no effect on your psyche. When the doctor asked you what happened you didn't have an answer.

You didn't have an answer for most of their questions either. After a series of fruitless questions the doctor and psychiatrist called in, settled on the diagnosis 'Retrograde Amnesia'.

Being stuck in a medically induced coma, you had to relearn how to walk along with other basic info. The photo of your parents, friends and house went ignored on your bedside. Why should you care about people and places you didn't remember? It's not like you were going to go back.

Most of the hospital staff gossiped in poorly concealed whispers as your nurse, Malcohm, walked with you around the floor. It was all the same thing.

"That child's poor parents, to not even be remembered by the one thing left behind."

It didn't bother you much but Malcohm always shooed them away with a scowl. He was kind to you, from helping you remember your name, to remembering what your parents' names were. 

It's not like you didn't remember that you had a name or that you had parents. But all the memories you had of them were gone. All your past experiences were gone too. 

The doctors were relieved to see that your memory loss was only applied to everything before the accident and not after it too. A date to be discharged was decided and a stoic man came to greet you. 

There was no warmth or care in his voice as he introduced himself as Mr. Castio. Not a drop of sympathy as he explained that you would be attending your parent's funeral. That your relatives would be there too, to discuss who would be willing to take you in. All you could do was stare at the newly replaced daisies and nod silently. 

If there was one thing you had relearned during your time at the hospital, it was that adults were to be obeyed. With a sad goodbye to Malcolm, you trailed behind Mr. Castio into the shiny black car.

You sat in the first row dressed in traditional and simple black clothing. Multiple people came up to you apologizing for your 'loss'. With a soft nod, you thanked them and they left satisfied. Mr. Castio had already advised you to not bother explaining the situation.

All your relatives spoke fondly of your parents until it came time to name anything they liked about your parents. The whole room went silent before little hesitant whispers floated around the room.

Seems you weren't the only one that couldn't remember.

The silence only got more unbearable once the topic of who you would be going with came up. Older adults volunteering younger family members while they vehemently denied the position. 

It was only after one uncle asked what would happen to your parents inheritance that greedy stares bombarded you. Picking at the stray fabric of the cushion, you ignored them all.

Mr. Castio clarified that the money would be untouched until you turned eighteen. Immediately, everyone looked away. No one wanted to raise a seven year old to adulthood without any immediate compensation. 

The funeral ended with your parents being incinerated. No one took the urns. It made you wonder why none of your grandparents showed up.

By the end of the day it was your aunt who agreed to foster you. Mr. Castio brought you to your parents house to collect your belongings. 

The house was clean and in order but the slight dust showed that it hasn't had a visitor in a while. Entering your room, you noticed how plain it was. Not a single toy, drawing or other personal object in sight. 

It unnerved you enough that you packed quick enough to not stay any longer. Curiosity poked at you to find out what kind of parents you had but you were more concerned on what your aunt is like.

She had a son and a husband you haven't met during the months you lived there. Her son was rude but never gave you any personal trouble. It was more common for him to throw a tantrum over one thing or another then bother you.

It wasn't an ideal life, but you weren't miserable. You ate three meals, had a bed and had supplies for school. Everything is fine, life is fine.

That thought was repeated as you sat in school with paper being thrown at the back of your head. The teacher ignored the behavior and your aunt repeatedly told you to not cause trouble. Even as you ate a different meal then your cousin and slept in the cramped closet-like room.

It was fine.

Until it wasn't.

A broken picture frame laid on the ground between you and your cousin, the ball he was playing with rolled to the opposite side of the room. When your aunt walked in, he cried and blamed you for it, saying that he told you not to play indoors.

This wasn't your fault and you said as much, but no matter what you said she just shook her head. You laid in bed with an empty stomach as your cousin’s words echoed in your ears.

"You shouldn't have tried to snitch on me."

School got worse with your cousin instigating more bullying against you. The house got tense as your cousin put all his energy into making you miserable. Day after day your aunt looked more and more stressed.

You still couldn't understand why he kept picking on you. There were no plans of revenge or fights, you relatively stayed neutral and passive. Life wasn't fine but you would have stayed like that until you overheard a conversation.

"-yeah, I'm only getting that much money for fostering Y/N. Shitty, right?"

Inelligle sounds came from the telephone in your Aunt's hand as she stored her jewelry. 

"If only my son would stop taking it. He already fights so much with Y/N and I just punish Y/N because a parent should always take their child's side. That child should have just passed away with their parents if they wanted to cause trouble."

Silently, you left back to the closet with the makeshift bed. Staring at the ceiling, you slowly accepted the reality of your situation.

Her wishing you to be dead alongside your parents wasn't the issue. What mattered was that she didn't care about the truth. She knew it was your cousin who started every problem and punished you because you weren’t her kid. 

That night, sleep didn't reach you as you spiraled into plans of vengeance. 

There was no sadness or shock on your face when you eavesdropped on her phone call with Mr. Castio. You merely noted the date that Mr. Castio would pick you up from your Aunts. You always had a feeling she would give you up, it just took longer than expected.

She and your cousin left to go celebrate whatever made-up achievement he lied about. Leaving you, an eight year old, home alone to your devices. If you ignored the list of chores you had to clean for ‘provoking your cousin into hitting you’, of course.

The house was cleaned to perfection when your aunt returned. The door creaked as she peeked in to see you dusting off the bookshelf in the guest room. She left satisfied as you set a book back on the shelf, covering a broken lock.

That night she told you to pack everything as Mr. Castio would be coming the next day. You simply nodded and left the room as your cousin laughed. You smiled too when he began asking what would happen to the money as your Aunt shushed him furiously.

Breakfast was cold as usual the next day, the mocking jeers your cousin spouted rolled off you with no reaction. Rolling his eyes at your ‘tough act’, your cousin scoffed before opening his lips to spout whatever snarky remark he had. Until the door to your Aunt’s room slammed open. She stormed in and whispered-yelled to him while pulling his ear.

You didn't have to hear to know what was said. All you heard next was-

"I didn't take the money!"

She's too mad to shush him and yells back. "Then who did?!" 

He stutters as he glances around the room. His eyes lock onto your stoic face with a frustrated expression.

"It was Y/N, they took it, they took the money!" He points at you as faux tears bubble up, his pathetic little sniffles only earn an annoyed sigh from his mother.

"What money?" You ask, tilting your head. Wide eyed, you stare at them both innocently, confusion emitting from your being all the while.

Mouth agape, your cousin looks back to his mother as she pinches the spot between her eyebrows.  "You're grounded until I get back all the money I lost, or until you return it." 

He tries to argue more but the ring of the doorbell interrupts the argument. Mr. Castio is let in and he merely motions you to follow him. Your aunt leaves the room with more wrinkles than she came in with.

With no goodbye, you grab your bag and walk to the door. Pausing you glance back at your cousin, a wide smirk is clear on your face. His eyes widen as realization sets in but there's nothing more that can be done as you close the door. 

--------------------------------

The sun breaks dawn as a quill scratches against rough paper. The ink is used in elegant strokes as Violetgrass is grounded and packaged. Yellow-slitted eyes read it over once more before folding it and writing the recipient on the exterior. 

Pearly white scales glint with the ray of the sun as the snake is woken up gently. Sleepily, she loops around and climbs the outreach hand to hang around the owner's neck.

"It's merely daybreak, who could be needing medicine so dearly?"

"A fever could kill, you know that as well as I do, Changsheng." A smooth, melodic voice comes from the snake-eyed man as he stands from his desk and walks toward the cabinets. The letter is put into one cabinet and another is opened to obtain an opened vial of medication.

"Herbalist Gui stayed the night to take care of this particular patient so I'll give them the last of the medication so he can go home."

Glasses perched and viridian hair tied up, Baizhu walks into the back room and knocks softly. A tired looking Gui startles as a child sleeps on the bed. Her father is slumped on the bed as he sleeps soundly, his eye bags comparable to Gui's from his many nights spent worrying over his daughter.

"Go home Gui and have a proper rest. This should be the last medication she needs, her fever has lasted over the past few days but she's stable."

"Thank you Dr. Baizhu, I'll get going now. Let me just grab my belongings."

Gui stands from the small stool and ambles around the room quietly to not wake the patient. Baizhu stands at the bedside and pours the medication into an infuser.

A low fire begins to burn as the medication is properly prepared. Soon enough, Gui leaves the room as Baizhu brings the cup to the girl's lips for her to drink. It goes down smoothly and Baizhu turns to retrieve any supplements to aid her when-

"Dr. Baizhu, there's an emergency!"

Gui bangs the door open with a troubled look as the girl stirs and her father wakes up with a start. Baizhu smiles at the father as he takes long strides towards Gui.

Gui wouldn't react this strongly unless there's a real emergency. Baizhu has worked with him long enough to tell when something is out of Gui's expertise or life threatening. 

"I'll need to step out for a while to deal with this. Please keep watching Yiran, I can assure you that she's past any dangerous stages Mr. Kuan."

Kuan nods his head sleepily and stays in his seat as Baizhu walks out the room. The door closes and Baizhu follows Gui as he asks "What's the situation?"

Gui speaks as fast as he can while walking toward the pharmacy entrance. "Qiqi was missing most of the night, which isn't abnormal, but she's at the front desk crying inconsolable while carrying a person on her back. They're bleeding out heavily and I saw multiple cuts, bruises and arrows in their body."

"I'm sorry to ask this from you but please prepare the treatment room. Once you do so, I can take care of them as Qiqi runs the front. If anything, I'll close the front until the patient is stable."

Gui nods before turning back as Baizhu steps into the threshold of the front. His eyes scan the room and quickly spot Qiqi and the patient she's holding.

Qiqi stands frozen in place as she grips you on her back. Tears roll down her cheeks without stopping, a stark contrast to her blank expression. Baizhu walks closer and kneels down to her level as his eyes dart over your unconscious body.

"Qiqi, I need you to follow me while carrying them. Can you do that?"

"Dr. Bai… Dr. Bai, they need herbs. Dr. Bai, Dr. Bai…"

Qiqi stares past him as if she doesn't register his words. Baizhu recognized the name 'Dr. Bai' easily as her name for him when she was still learning to remember.

Changsheng lifts her head as she hisses in a cooing way. "Qiqi, you want to save them, correct? We have the herbs but you need to bring this patient to the treatment room."

Baizhu reaches toward the zombie child and carefully wipes away her tears. “There’s no need to worry Qiqi, just do as Changsheng says. Remember I love you most.” 

Qiqi nods but she doesn’t stop crying much to Baizhu’s surprise. Deciding to leave that for another time, he slowly walks to the treatment room passing by an exhausted Gui who sends a worried glance at you. 

“Don’t worry about it Gui, injured patients aren’t the most frequent but I have plenty of experience caring for them. Just go home and rest.” With a sigh, Gui leaves as Qiqi stands next to the clean bed. 

You’re quickly transferred to the bed and positioned to lay on your side for a proper inspection. “You should stay outside. Qiqi. I’ll let you see them when I’m done.” Not looking back, Baizhu changes his gloves before gingerly touching the bloody wounds. Bits and pieces of scrap can be felt inside the injuries under his fingers making him frown.

“There’s quite a range of injuries on them. Not counting the bruising and cuts, there are some deep stab wounds.” Changsheng comments from her perch as she stares down at the zombie.

“Their calves have been pierced too, it’s cold to the touch with elemental traces. Someone used a cryo vision on them. Their back isn’t straight and their breathing is harsh, I’m suspecting some broken bones. They must be identified soon so I can heal them.”

As he pulls his hands away, a small metal arrow tip falls out onto the floor. “That one has hydro elemental energy, different then the cryo one earlier. Two assailants means double the bleeding.”

“Baizhu! That can be dealt with afterwards, look at their head!” Changsheng’s sudden hiss pulls Baizhu’s attention to the area in question. The pillow your head is laying has begun to be stained red as a puddle forms. Blood dribbles out of your cracked lips as your breathing becomes strained.

Dendro glows at the tips of Baizhu’s fingertips as he carefully trails his fingers across the wounds. “Changsheng, they don’t have much time left. Their qi is perfectly balanced so I’ll only need to transfer some lifeforce. That head injury is the most pressing injury but I’ll spare some power to temporarily block the bleeding.”

The puncture wounds shine a soft green and the blood on your loose, shoddy bandages slow down. A pained gasp breaks free from your lips at the accident brush against your cracked spine.

Baizhu and Changsheng both peer down at your head, your matted hair knotting from the blood makes him grimace. “Their skull met with great impact but it’s not fatal.”

“Not yet, at least.”

“This mask needs to be removed for proper circulation and examination. More injuries may be hiding beneath it.” Baizhu speaks absentmindedly as he changes gloves and begins to reach toward the bloody mask on your face.

Your eyes snap open, making Baizhu freeze in surprise until you push him with enough force causing him to stumble. Changsheng hisses in retaliation as Baizhu steadies himself.

You stumble off the bed with a sway as blood rolls down your forehead. With glossy eyes and cracked lips you speak slowly. "Don't… touch it…"

Baizhu and Changsheng share a worried look at each other before focusing on you. Taking a step closer, Baizhu raises his empty hands in an act to calm you.

"Now, now, I'm just trying to help you. That mask is obstructing my care and can cause a serious problem."

"I… said… NO TOUCHING!" Your arm flails to the side, knocking over objects and causing a loud crash. 

An animalistic yell rises out of your hoarse throat while your limbs swing around in agitation. Baizhu keeps a safe distance away as he watches you.

"This enraged fool will be the cause of their own death!" Changsheng yells over the sounds of vials and glasses crashing.

Baizhu doesn't respond as he stares at you, your every movement is carefully noted under watchful yellow eyes. 

Your pupils blown wide, trembling body, and strange movements weren't lining up with a simple blood loss excuse.

A small hand tugs his pant leg as your rampage slows to an end. Baizhu looks down at the red rimmed pink eyes of the zombie child.

"What is it, Qiqi? Do you have something that can help them?"

Changsheng keeps a watchful eye on your exhausted body as your endless mumbles of refusal continue. Your bag in Qiqi's hands is handed over to Baizhu without a word.

"Is this theirs?" A single nod before she steps away to stare at you with a seemingly worried frown.

Baizhu opens the bag to find it completely empty. Not a single speck of dust or dirt can be seen in it unlike your dirty, ripped clothes. But before he closes it, he spots a tag on the inside of it.

'Property of Y/N L/N'

With that new information, he sets the bag down on a farther table and looks back to you. You stand trembling next to the bed as pieces of broken objects litter the ground. With slumped shoulders and eyes threatening to roll back, your voice cracks with every mumble.

"Don't take it off. Can't take it off.. Won't let you take it off…"

"Y/N? Is that your name?"

No reaction comes from you. He tries again. "Y/N, can you hear me? Can you understand me?"

Again nothing, not a twitch, not a flinch or even a slow in your mumbles. With a tired sigh Baizhu makes up his mind.

"Changsheng we have no other choice, I'll knock them out so be prepared to share my life force with them during the struggle."

"No."

Baizhu looks down at the snake in slight surprise, Changsheng speaks in a wary voice.

"For whatever reason, Teyvat is reaching out to me in warning. Don't take off the mask, keep it on and heal what you can."

Baizhu spares one more glance before sighing. "If that's really what you believe then we will do things your way. Perhaps Y/N's body is stuck in a fear response and may actually kill me."

Baizhu carefully steps past the shards and approaches you with a gentle smile. "Qiqi clean up the mess, lest our patient injure themselves on it. As for you Y/N, you can relax. I will not take off your mask, you are safe here."

Immediately your eyes roll back and you collapse to the ground. Baizhu was swift enough to catch you before any injury but your reaction was enough to cause him grief.

"Qiqi, as soon as you are done, manage the front for me. This will take a long while."

-----------------------

Change was something you grew used to during your childhood. You changed schools, caretakers, friends and homes long enough to know the process by heart.

Adapting was another thing you were good at. Shady houses with out of control classmates and unending fights meant that it was a dangerous place. That you had to stay low and be on edge constantly. Everything you owned had to fit in your locked bag or else you would find it missing the next morning.

It was a bit easier in the city where most were working class. Making friends would be too much trouble and fairly fruitless. You were content to stay invisible and deal with any problems outside of public view. Some students just didn't know how to describe you, some were too fearful of what they accidentally saw to say anything about you.

The most and least stressful was the rare times you ended up with a rich family. On one hand every student knew you as an orphan but at the same time, rich kids loved to feel like heroes. All you had to do was play the weak and kind student. Nearly every student flocked to be your guardian angel as you showered them with compliments.

You never lacked lies and stories to tell but you also never stayed in one spot for longer than a few months. Each time Mr. Castio got more and more fed up with you. From a stoic disappointment to a quiet rage filled with belittlement. 

It was at 12 years old that you got fostered by your third wealthy family. They already had children, a daughter your age and a son who was barely three. You already knew that you would be their designated babysitter.

After a month of living there, you began to truly enjoy it. There was no mistreatment, obvious favoritism, a nice allowance, and even your own room. Even though you held no love for them, you followed your foster parents requests with no trouble.

Cleaning, babysitting, organization, yard work, sewing and more spontaneous jobs. Not only did they give you a bonus for the work, they also let you buy stuff with it when you asked. 

You didn't need to be constantly catered to like their daughter, you were just happy to sleep without fear of getting robbed, an empty stomach or bruised skin.

After a while you began to realize just how much you depended on them. It worried you, you agonized endlessly about getting attached and abandoned. You worked harder at school, gave in to their request full of smiles and got along with their children swimmingly.

The longer you stayed and obeyed, the larger the possibility of them adopting you or at least fostering you till adulthood became. 

But, you really should have known better. You’ve gone through it so many times, yet it seemed you still didn’t learn your lesson on who you can trust. The only person who truly had your back was always going to be yourself.

A normal day, a nice lunch and a polite request to do the dishes, something you were happy to oblige in. The sponge absorbed the soap and water letting you wash the dishes with ease. The chore is second nature to you.

 Their daughter was out of the house, probably hanging out at a friend's house. Their son was with them in the dining room as their chatter reached your ears clearly.

“I’m so glad we got lucky to foster such a kind child.”

“As am I. They work hard, get along well with everyone, and help us around the house without complaint.”

Their praise was something you were still struggling to get used to. But it made you happy nonetheless. You couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it was an exaggeration or a lie no matter how many times you chided yourself.

“That’s true, I never expected a kid with that upbringing could be so smart.”

“What child wouldn’t do well with us taking care of them? They struggled a bit at first but they seem to realize what a good deed we did with fostering one of their kind.”

The water running down your fingers felt colder, almost like ice was traveling through your veins. Was that really what they said? Did you hear them correctly? You held onto some semblance of hope that they weren’t speaking about you like that. But the longer you listened, the smaller your hopes shrunk as your doubts grew.

They spoke about you as if you were a pet. Due to what? Being an orphan? The class difference? Your race? Your gender? Or was it just you? All their past compliments and words that seemed innocent are thrust into a new light. One full of demeaning words hiding as kindness.

The dishes in your hands become like dynamite. Just one drop and it’ll set off a whole chain of events where you can tell them off. To scream insults and obscenities from feeling tricked. Yell at them exactly how you feel, how angry it made you to be spoken as if less than human. As if less than them. 

Instead, you set the clean dish onto the drying rack. A deep breath is taken and then two more. Impartial rationality is focused on as your wounded heart is shoved away.

You have a good home, you aren’t being abused. Taken advantage of? Yes, but you get paid for it. This isn’t a family, it’s a job. It’s the best foster family you’ve had by far. They were wealthy and if you played your cards right, you could graduate from this upper class school and get a good job. 

It’s a good deal. It’s the best deal someone like you will ever get. You should be grateful, you don’t need their affection, love or attention. You just need to survive long enough to support yourself. You shouldn’t ruin a good thing.

Those words play on repeat as the last dish is set on the drying rack. The sink is turned off before you grip the counter tightly. Water is drained down the sink as you tell yourself that you’re just angry. Your blurry vision is just from anger, you remind yourself over and over again.

--------------------

A strong stench of iron permeated the room as skilled hands continued to work on your body. Blood splatters stained Baizhu’s clothes, sweat on his temple as he carefully traced the wounds with Dendro glowing on the tips of his fingers. Life force was continuously given to you as Changsheng stabilized Baizhu’s weakening body.

With the most pressing injuries taken care of, Baizhu examined your bloodstained back. The broken and fractured bones there were the next in line to be treated. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the bedside, he raised them to the midline of your clothes.

“The blood is keeping the clothes stuck to their body. We don’t have time to pull the clothes off carefully.” The small mumbles left Baizhu as he concentrated on not accidentally nicking your skin. 

Once done, he set the scissors aside and pulled the remains of your clothes off. A clean wet cloth is gently used to clean the blood off as your skin becomes visible. Simultaneous gasps leave the contracted pair as the cloth is dropped.

“Those scars! Baizhu, this isn’t a mere coincidence anymore. This person is much too similar to The Creator. Those scars are exactly as described in the scriptures.” Changsheng’s frantic hissing doesn’t reach Baizhu as he stares sternly at the marks in question.

His lips part hesitantly as his eyes never leave your body. “We should leave it be….”

“And what reason may that be?” Baizhu reaches an ungloved hand to thumb the old and faded scars as chills run down his spine.

“While it may be true that they are suspiciously similar to the Creator, there is more to this situation. The most widespread theory on why their blood is gold is that their blood is supplied with pure elemental energy and oxygen unlike everyone else that simply wields elemental energy. Even inhuman beings don’t have elemental energy coursing through their veins.”

Baizhu focuses his attention back on your bones as Dendro is summoned by his vision again. Changsheng rests herself with a tense posture as she waits for Baizhu to continue.

“Y/N is bleeding red and naturally absorbs my Dendro seamlessly. Furthermore, the scars on them have a strange aura on them.” Changsheng gives a look to Baizhu silently conveying her theory.

He shakes his head in response and clarifies. “It’s not god remains, but it’s similar. If god remains are like a natural poison and plague on a body, then this aura is the cure. The best way to describe this is that they are god cores. I believe it’s connected to the reason their qi is perfectly balanced despite the situation.”

Changsheng settles down at Baizhu's words as she watches him continue to care for you. Your breathing hitches as your bones are healed and snapped back into place. A low wail is all that can leave your throat.

“So Y/N is something in the middle? Will you really care for them even if it means taking care of a potential imposter?”

A heavy silence follows the question as Baizhu’s natural smile softens. The medical supplies that were used during all these hours litter the room in a mess. His gold eyes stare down at your pale, trembling body. 

“Yes, I will. They are still a patient that was brought to me. If they truly are an imposter then the Millelith can deal with them after they’ve healed properly here.”

Baizhu cleans his hands and changes gloves once again as he examines the remaining wounds on your body. Smiling down at Changsheng, he speaks smoothly “Shall we begin the final stage of their treatment?” 

-----------------------

Middle school reaches its end and the summer before high school came. You had passed with a high grade from your many long nights spent awake. Long days spent babysitting their son while upkeeping the chores while their daughter played leisurely. 

You felt proud of yourself to pass with those grades while dealing with them. As the months went by, your foster parents felt less and less of the need to treat you the same as their children. At the end of the day, they still paid you so everything was fine.

Summer was reaching its end and you were creating a list of items you would need for the new school. Halfway through, a soft knock on your door broke your focus. Your foster parents stepped in and asked you to join them in the living room.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nodded and followed them. Were they planning on giving you up? So close to the new school year?

The moment you sat down, they dropped the metaphorical bomb. "We want you to stay back this year and go to high school next year instead."

That wasn't so bad right? You just need to wait another year to start high school. It's not like you could be thrown out at 18 with no high school diploma, left to fend for yourself after giving up a year of school for them.

It's safe to say that you reacted badly to the news. Every 'Why?' was given a half hearted answer that changed constantly, and when you put your foot down and said no, something about them shifted, as if a curtain had been lifted or a coin had been flipped.

The once kind and gentle gleam in their eyes dulled into something akin to annoyance. As if you were doused with cold water, the atmosphere became tense and you just knew that you messed up. You, who had been so careful to stay on good terms and always abide by their request, was looked upon with coldness. 

“A child like you should not be giving us this disrespectful attitude.”

“We’ve clothed you, fed you, provided everything in that room. And it’s now with this single request that you’re rejecting us this harshly?”

The lecture goes on and on. Told how grateful, how sorry, how happy you should be. Cruelty laced every word has their arrogant figures towered over you. There was no chance for you to speak up, the helplessness you felt only pushed you down further.

At the end you were sent to your room with the date of your ‘fostering’ decided. The suitcase you took out and began to neatly fill felt foreign. You truly believed that you would be staying here until your 18th birthday. With the room bare and your eyes puffy, you tried to sleep.

Thoughts of what you should have done came to you in waves. You should have just accepted it. Even if only as a facade and found some way to prevent them from alerting the school in time. You wouldn’t have lost anything, if only you weren’t so stupid.

Tears spring up and it’s wiped away harshly as more replace it. Bitten lips begin to bleed as you hold back any embarrassing sobs that crawl up your throat. It’s only as footsteps are heard outside your room that you freeze.

Eyes wide you listen to the conversation as the sadness turns to bitterness. The bitterness wraps around your heart and squeezes as you learn the truth behind the matter. Their precious daughter had failed her grade and they just couldn’t let their child be upstaged. 

Teeth grinding, you sit up from your bed and begin to dig through the stash of objects you’ve found throughout your time in this household. A plan forms in your mind that all depends on what opportunity is given to you.

Your ex-foster parents announced a dinner to be held at a fancy restaurant and dropped the responsibility of watching over their son on you. Their daughter cheers happily at the sound of her favorite restaurant being chosen as you go to your room. Curled up in the bed, you try to ignore the stabbing pain in your heart.

The door slowly opens as the house goes quiet, their son toddlers to your bed with wide worried eyes. Chubby fingers pat your cheek softly “Are you okay? You sad?” The broken sentences are cute as he stares at you sadly.

Sitting up, you pet his head and smile at him. Your eyes are a strange swirl of emotions as you reassure him of your well being. The next sentence is a familiar one, just with different intentions than all the times you’ve asked before.

“Do you wanna play a game of hide and seek?” The smile on his face is so bright that you almost feel bad for your actions. 

Mr. Castio picks you up the next day, your ex-foster family waves goodbye to you as you enter the car. Their son cries and begs his parents to stop you as they soothe him calmly. Their daughter is the first to leave as you close the car door.

“How could you fuck up such a good deal?” The harsh words are spoken easily now that privacy is ensured. Wrinkles are as clear as his scowl as he drives away and out of the neighborhood. 

“I got you to be fostered in a family like this, and you couldn’t just go along with what they asked? I never had much expectations for you, but did the amnesia take away your brain too? Actually, you were probably born this way.”

Curling your knees into your chest, you try to ignore his demeaning words. Round two of being treated like a worthless child began as you endured the long car ride. The more he spoke, the more you shook.

“-really. Making my life harder than it has to be. All because you couldn’t shut your damn trap. Is your useless pride worth more then-”

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up instead?!” That was all it took for the loud argument between you both to begin. You had already tried to play nice with one set of arrogant adults, why should you deal with another?

A pained smirk crawled onto your face as you cursed Mr. Castio out who didn’t hesitate to dish it back. Whether it was being nice and submissive or being rude and blunt, both had the same outcomes.

You sincerely hoped that your ex-foster family would enjoy the gifts you left for them to find. 

The drugs you had placed in the nightstand for the strict and uptight breadwinner to find. The photographs of the breadwinners affair you printed and left for the house spouse to find in the cupboard. And finally the positive pregnancy test you set in the liquor cabinet that they never failed to open at dinner time.

By all means, their ‘perfect’ family should fall apart, it was just a shame you couldn’t see the fall out yourself… It didn’t stop the unease and slight guilt you felt for their son who had truly done nothing to you. It’s not like your actions would have too much of an effect on him right? You, you weren’t wrong.

Right?

At the lack of insults, Mr. Castio stopped his verbal abuse. Deep in thought, you stared out the window as the scenery passed by. Where you would go next was not known but it was all right. You would find a way to survive, you always did. 

You had to.

-------------------------

Calloused hands smoothened the blanket on your semi-healed body as Baizhu ignored the exhaustion setting in. The sun was high in the sky as the afternoon lull began to set in. Qiqi opened the door slowly as she peeked in, her eyes trained on your bandaged form.

“Dr. Baizhu, is it done?” Her hesitant voice was answered with a smooth smile and a calm voice. “It is, but Y/N needs their rest. You’ve been tense since you brought them in at dawn, that’s not good for you. Go to the courtyard and practice your arithmetics.”

Qiqi gives a small nod before walking away. With a sigh, Baizhu cleans up the remaining mess from the long treatment. “You’re exhausted, Baizhu. Stop acting tough and get some rest.”

Changsheng’s snotty but caring tone is clear to Baizhu as he walks out of the treatment room. “I’ll instruct Qiqi to gather some more herbs once she’s done. Before I can rest, I’ll need to check up on the counter. Gui should have arrived an hour ago.”

Opening the door, Baizhu is greeted with the sight of Gui giving a farewell to the last customer. At the sight of the doctor, Gui perks up in interest. “How is that patient? Did they make it?”

“Thankfully they did, but they’ll need to stay here a few days for the more severe injuries. I believe their name is Y/N, so address them by that name until we can ask them ourselves..”

Gui nods in response as Baizhu looks through what herbs they still had to use. Different prescriptions come to mind as he filters what information he knows of Y/N. What could trigger an allergic reaction, what medicine could have been consumed beforehand? What prescription is affordable without having too many side effects?

Those thoughts consumed his mind as Qiqi returned and he mindlessly instructed her on what herbs to gather according to the prescription of his choosing. Gui leaves deeper into the pharmacy as Baizhu finishes and stores the medical file safely.

Did you have any means to pay the treatment or follow up prescriptions? Any family to contact for visiting and support? You wouldn’t be the first patient to have no one to rely on but Baizhu still couldn’t shake off the feeling of something more going on with you. 

It was quite perplexing that he, who took great care to focus on being the best physician and on his own contract, was so drawn in by you. With a tired sigh, Baizhu pushed up his glasses as Changsheng raised her head to look behind him.

A knock on the doorframe only urged him to turn around and look at the unexpected visitor. With weary and suspicious eyes Baizhu stared straight ahead, “Is there something I can help you with?”

Lips curled into an ambiguous smile and with a polished voice, the visitor replies.  “I hope so, do you happen to have a patient wearing a mask?”

This chapter was fun to write, what writer doesn't like giving a trunk ton of trauma on their protagonist? I get 18 years to configure to my liking, what did anyone expect? But as always you don't need to consider this your Y/N's backstory. In truth I won't have you think back to these memories much as you have moved on from that past. You have for a long time. This is just the 'canonical' explanation as quite a few of you seemed to like my version of Y/N. Which makes me very happy! My editor approved of this idea, and edited it quickly enough for me to pump it out. I deal with the heavy work and don't need to do the annoying work! Also feel free to ask if anything was confusing. One last thing, after I got rid of the spam/porn bots I saw that I reached 1k followers! That's pretty amazing but I'm not sure if a special should be done or not. And if so, what should I do?

Taglist: Check Masterlist for more details but everyone is welcome to join it!

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[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x Reader ~ 4/6

CW: Oral (f receiving), more angst, classism? 18+ only

wc: 5.2k

Master list

You woke up extra bright and early the following day with a smile. As you opened your eyes, the memories of last night came flooding back to mind. Even though it was only 6:00 a.m., you walked to the showers with an extra pep. 

The steamy memories of last night flooded your mind, and even with the ice-cold water hitting your body, it couldn’t wash away the heat of Eddie’s touch. It was like he was burned into your skin, the way his calloused fingertips glided over you, how he gripped your hair, how he gave you the most earth-shattering orgasm. 

Your body craved him, you missed him, and you wished you could have slept next to him and had him hold you all night long. Everything you had wanted for so long was finally at your fingertips. You just had to reach out and grab it. 

Reality finally hit you when you shivered; you could no longer bear the icy water. The bitter morning air made everything that much colder, and the dilemma of having something that would cover all of the love bites Eddie gave you was coming to the forefront of your mind. 

You knew you would swim today and chose your baby blue one-piece suit. It covered everything on your stomach but was a different story from the chest up. 

The highest cut tops you owned were crewnecks and hoodies; there was no chance you’d wear a hoodie all day when the forecast was 30°C + weather. So you opted for your forest green Camp Murdock crewneck tee. It didn’t cover half of the love bites Eddie had made, but it was the best you could do without dying from heat stroke. You paired the shirt with some high-waisted light wash cut-off jean shorts. They made your ass look fantastic, and you wanted Eddie to be drooling over you. 

You slowly forgot about your salacious affairs from the previous night as you focused on picking up Eddie a coffee, like every morning. You knocked on the door thrice before entering.

“I hope everyone is decent,” you giggled, entering the cabin.

To your surprise, it was empty, so you walked back to the mess hall with the two cups of coffee in hand and joined the other girls at your usual table, and you took a seat beside Nancy.

“Have you seen the guys yet?” You asked. 

“Missing lover boy already?” Cassie teased. 

“Maybe.” you smile. 

“Here they come,” Robin pointed to them as they came from across the room.

You see Eddie's fist, and Steve, Billy, and Ashton are trailing behind him. They were making their way to the serving counter, and you caught Eddie’s eye and gave a small wave. He smiles and winks at you, and you swear your heart has stopped beating.

You turned back, unable to hide your facial expressions, and the girls started to mock you.

“Oh, Eddie, I love you so much; you’re handsome and funny.” Robin batted her eyes, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

Nancy chimed in after, making the most obscene moans unbothered that we were in a room full of people. “Oh, Eddie!! Fuck me harder, you have the biggest coc—” She was cut off by someone clearing their throat. 

Your heads whipped around to see all four guys standing with jaws hanging open, but Eddie stood there with the biggest shit-eating grin.

“Good morning, ladies.” He chuckled and sat down beside you. The rest of them walked over to sit down on the other side.

“Morning,” you and the girls mumbled, a bit embarrassed by their actions. 

Eddie leaned into you and whispered a “Good morning, beautiful” under his breath so no one else heard. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his warm breath hit your ear. 

“So, uh, the fuck was that all about?” Billy asked, bringing up the elephant in the room. 

“What do you mean?” Cassie innocently asked. 

“You know exactly what he means.” Ashton chimed in. 

“Nancy, you’re the one fucking Ed?” Billy accused. 

“What?! Absolutely not! No offence, Lancelot,” She defended.

“Non-taken,” he laughed, and a discreet hand trailed up your back, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“But you know who is?” Billy questioned. 

“Maybe, but it’s not for us to tell.” Robin’s eyes trailed to you as she spoke, making all the guys, including Eddie, look at you. 

Would Eddie be mad you shared details about last night? 

“I’m hungry. Who’s hungry? Clover? Moose? Oh! Eddie, here is your coffee.” Trying to deflect, you passed over the coffee to him but accidentally tipped it, dumping it all over you. 

The coffee was still scolding hot; your first reaction was to stand and take the burning material off your body, knowing your bathing suit would still keep you modest. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” You apologized to Eddie.

 While still looking down at your arms to make sure there was no burn forming it was weirdly silent at the table, so I look up to staring eyes from all the guys. 

“Well, that didn’t take long to figure out.” Steve laughed under his breath. 

“What?” You question him.

“I knew I was right!” Ashton cheered and leaned over the table to give Eddie a high-five. 

“What?” You asked again.

“Bambi,” Nancy whispers to you while circling her chest with her pointer finger. 

Your hands instinctively shoot up to cover yourself as much as possible. 

Eddie takes off his flannel and drapes it over your shoulders, not that it dose anything more, but the gesture is nice. 

“Guess the cat is out of the bag.” Eddie wraps an arm around your shoulder and leans in to kiss you on the temple.

“Fucking finally, guys, it took you long enough.” Steve smiled.

“Jesus, dude, we thought you were marked up pretty bad; you fucking wrecked her.” Ashton laughed.

You buried your head into Eddie’s shoulder, but that only exposed the hickeys more because my hair fell behind your shoulders.

Billy abruptly got up and stormed off from the table without a word. 

“What was that all about?” Robin asked. 

“He’s butt hurt, is all; he’ll get over it.” Ashton shook his head, finally diving into his breakfast. 

You felt a little bad for Billy, but you told him time and time again that it was never going to happen. 

Eddie pulls you closer, hugging you tightly from the side. 

“Sorry, Princess. I couldn’t help myself.” He gives you four little pecks on your cheeks before standing up to get more napkins for the forgotten coffee that spilled on the table.

“Oh, gross. Please don’t tell me you’ll be that couple now.”  Robin rolled her eyes. 

“No, don’t worry, we won’t be like that during work hours; there is no way I’m losing this job.” You laughed, shaking your head. 

-

Due to your different schedules today, you didn’t see Eddie much after breakfast, but you ran into Billy again while swapping activities at the arts and crafts station. 

“So, you and Edward.” He said his name with so much venom in his voice. 

“Yeah, we, uh, it just kind of happened.” You stray your eyes, not wanting to look at him. 

You hated that you were the reason he felt this way. Sure, he’s been an ass, but he was still your friend, the guy from the last summer is still in there somewhere. 

“Well, whatever.” He bumped your shoulder as he passed you.

“Hey!” You yelled at him, but he kept sulking. 

“Coyote!” You grabbed his shoulder so he could turn around. 

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I told you repeatedly that this would never happen." You point between you and him, "I’m sorry, but we will only ever be just friends.”

Billy rolled his eyes and stomped off like a child. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Steve approaches you,

“Don’t worry about him; he’ll get over it. He’s only upset because you chose Eddie over him. It’s not like he’s in love with you. He just wanted to get his dick wet.” 

“You sure about that? He seems hurt?” you questioned. 

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, Bambi; watch by this time tomorrow. He will be going after Heather or Veronica.” he laughed. 

“If you say so…” I still was unsure but couldn’t let this Billy thing hang over your head; it wasn’t your fault.

-

To say Eddie is infatuated with you is an understatement.

Who would have thought Hawkins' very own Princess would also be a freak in the sheets for him? Well, it's not totally freaky. Eddie could have pushed it more, but he decided he best not. He didn’t want to scare you off before you ever got started.

He couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Your moans and gasps played on a loop in his memory, the sweet dip in your voice when you screamed for him to fuck you, begging for his cock. He's been wound up all day because of it and needed you.

Eddie didn’t know how he would survive not being able to touch you for the rest of the day until after the bonfire. Time slowed down without you; it felt like forever before Eddie got a chance to sit beside you at the fire.

He had brought his guitar, remembering you said musicians were your type, hoping to score more brownie points. 

Everyone sang the camp songs Eddie played, and then he opened to play some real songs. Eddie was mindlessly strumming when he caught you staring at his hands while biting your lip. He knew he had you right where he wanted. 

You and Eddie didn’t get to talk much after last night’s escapades, but he wanted to stay in that shabby cabin with you all night. He needed to know your favourite TV show, your favourite food, how old you were when you lost your first tooth, your preference for ice cream or popsicles, and your favourite band. Eddie needed to know every detail about you. 

“Hello, earth to Eddie.” You giggled. 

Oh god that laugh could heal a million broken hearts

“Sorry, princess, zoned out a minute there.” Eddie stood up, seeing as though everyone was going to bed for the night.

“Hey, you guys coming to the mess hall after we put the campers to bed? We are playing cards.” Steve asks. 

You and Eddie looked at one another, and you both knew you wanted to be alone with one another. 

“Nah, man, we will call it an early night,” Eddie winked. 

“Gross,” Robin said under her breath. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, Bird,” You pouted, and all Eddie wanted to kiss it right off your face. 

“You better be back by curfew, I am not covering for you again.” Steve pointed at Eddie. 

“Okay, man, jeez, what are you, my uncle? What next? You’re going to give me the safe sex talk?” Eddie laughs.

“Could you be any louder?” You gently smack his chest. 

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” He takes you by the waist and shoves your bodies together.

“Eddie, not here! I don’t want to get in trouble.” You giggled, but he couldn’t help himself. 

After last night's encounters, Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off you any longer. He crouched lower to pick you up, threw you over his shoulder, and ran to Cabin 7. 

You squealed as Eddie dropped you face up on the bed. Then you giggled when he pinned your arms over your head and onto the bed. Eddie finally got to kiss you for the first time since last night. Your lips were warm and soft and tasted like marshmallow, chocolate, and strawberry chapstick.

You moaned into his mouth and couldn’t help but grind your hips on Eddie's firm crotch.

“I don’t know how much time we will have, princess. I can’t have any of the others seeing you like this.” Eddie spoke into your neck, gently kissing over the marks that he had left the previous night. 

"Oh, we're a little jealous, are we?" You giggled again, but Eddie was not joking. "I would rip any guy's head off who walked in here." His tone was stern, and he heard your breath hitch. 

Eddie hoped he didn’t scare you, but that thought faded when you grabbed the back of his head to pull him into another delicious kiss. You got bold and slipped your tongue into his mouth, and you tried your best to fight for dominance; he let you win for a little while, but you both knew you would submit. 

You waited no time to take off your sweatshirt and bra, and Eddie’s hands were on you the second your skin was exposed to him. He slid his hands down your torso and across the soft, pillowy skin of your tummy until he hit the waistband of your jeans. 

“These have got to go,” He says as he unbuttoned them. 

You watched as Eddie got off the bed and knelt on the floor before tugging off your pants. You gave a little yelp when he then grabbed both of your ankles and pulled you towards him until your legs were dangling off the edge. 

“Open your legs for me, baby. Don’t get shy on me now.” He spoke as he pressed his hands to your inner thighs. 

How was someone’s skin so soft all the time? Eddie squished his fingers into your soft inner thighs. 

You couldn’t help but want to hide, raising your hands to cover your face, but Eddie wasn’t having it. 

“Don’t do that.” he crawled back up your body to move your hands. “I need to see you, pretty girl; I’ve been waiting for this all day.” 

You can’t help but whine at his words. Never had you been with a guy who liked to talk this much during sex. 

“Don’t be a brat; you don’t want me to show you what brats get when they’re punished,” Eddie whispers in your ear before slinking down your embody once again, ready to devour you.

A visible shiver runs through your body, and Eddie can see the tiny bumps lining your skin. 

“What if I want to find out?” You bite your lip, and Eddie’s head shoots back up with lust in his eyes.

“Oh, baby, I wouldn’t ask about what you’re not ready for?” He threatened. 

Eddie didn’t give you any time to respond, he couldn’t wait any longer, the smell of your arousal was controlling his needs. 

He started by making out with your lower lips before he slowly broke through your slit, and your breath hitched when he circled his tongue on your clit. 

Your gasps and moans were music to Eddie’s ears. 

Eddie continued making you sing for him as he buried his face into your pussy. He loved your taste; it was like he was addicted and he needed all of you. 

You moan as Eddie works his tongue from your clit down to your hole. As he sticks his tongue inside you, you can’t help but grind your hips into his face.

“Eddie, please, it’s so good, please.” 

You feel Eddie pin down your hips to keep you from moving. His hold was firm. It didn’t take much effort on his end to keep you still; your difference in size was to his advantage. 

Eddie continued and worked his way back up to your clit; he could see you were close; he watched and listened to your heavy breathing and moans that were getting louder and louder.

“Come on, pretty girl, cum for me. I know you can do it” Eddie clamped back down on your clit only a few more seconds he will have you coming all over his face. 

“Eddie! ohmy—!” you scream.

“Hey there, you guys ar—OHMYGOD.” Ashton screams and covers his eyes.

-

Eddie has you right in your sweet spot; the pressure is building and building, you’re so close just a few more seconds and  

“Eddie ohmy—“ you thoughts are cut off because you’re cumming!  You’re cumming so hard, you’re unaware of the other person who entered the room. Once you no longer feel Eddie’s touch, you hear another voice that is not Eddie. 

“—MYGOD”

“Get out!” You hear Eddie scream as you come down from your orgasmic bliss. 

As you’re still trying to catch your breath you see Eddie marching towards the door. 

Oh god, someone came in; one of the guys saw you! You quickly scramble to hide your naked body under the sleeping bag. 

Eddie is already out the door, but you can still hear everything since he didn’t close it. 

“I didn’t see anything, man, I promise! Dude, I’m sorry, no one told me you were in there!” Ashton was pleading with Eddie. 

“You sure you saw nothing, man?” Eddie’s voice was gruff. 

“Yes! I swear, dude!” 

“Give me half an hour…” Eddie walked back into the cabin and slammed the door shut.

“Fucking hell, that’s why they laughed when they told me to go get the bug spray” you hear Ashton talking to no one in particular. 

You giggled, but Eddie’s face was stone cold, even if it glistened with your juices. 

“Oh, come on, Eds, it was an accident.” You sat up on your knees, the sleeping bag sliding back down. 

That caught Eddie’s attention; his eyes filled with lust once again as you started to graze your hands across your breasts, kneading them and teasing your nipples. 

Eddied stalked your way. He ducked under the top bunk. 

“What did I say I’d do if any man saw you the way I see you?” he growled in your ear. 

You didn’t answer him; you didn’t want to play these games. Instead, you kissed him to shut him up, tasting yourself on his lips. You brought your hands to the back of his head, lightly digging your fingertips into his curls, but Eddie pulled away abruptly. 

“What did I—“ WACK “—Oh fuck!” 

Eddie reached for the back of his head, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the fact Eddie hit his head on the top bunk.

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” You get out between fits of giggles.

“Yea, I think I'll be okay. That hurt like a motherfucker.” The hit to the head seemed to snap him back to regular Eddie. 

“Want me to kiss it better?” You bat your eyes. 

“I can think of another head that you can kiss better.” He wiggled his eyebrows and carefully crawled into the bed with you, avoiding the top bunk.

You were wrapped up together, and the mood had shifted. It was light and fun, playful and giggly. 

After giving him what you believe to be the best blowjob of his life you got so comfortable cuddling you had fallen asleep. 

Eddie shook you awake, you had only been sleeping about ten minutes. Eddie hated that he had to disturb you, you looked so peaceful, but the guys would be back any minute. You reluctantly got dressed but plopped back down on the bed. 

You rested your head on Eddie’s shoulder just as you heard a tentative knock on the door. 

“It’s safe. You can come in.” You hummed. 

“I’m so sorry ‘bout that, guys. Fuck.” Ashton apologized profusely. 

“It’s okay, Rooster!” You laughed. Eddie gave you a look of warning, but you brushed it off. 

You see Steve and Billy followed in behind him, hysterically laughing. 

“I can’t believe you actually walked in on them, dude,” Billy laughed; you could see tears coming from his eyes. It wasn’t that funny.  

“This your wise idea?” Eddie asked Steve. 

“Nah, man, it was all Coyote, but it’s pretty funny; poor guy had no idea.” Steve laughed. 

“Oh, I see; Billy just wanted to cock block us…” You rolled my eyes. 

“You think this is funny, man? Do you think it’s funny for a girl to be walked in on, exposed and vulnerable? You didn’t stop thinking about how this would make Y/N feel.” You watch, stunned, as Eddie gets up from the bed and walks over to Billy. 

Two things: one, he used your full name, which made your thighs clench in a way you never thought possible, and two, Eddie was getting in Billy’s face to defend your honour. He was possessive and protective, and you couldn’t deny you were getting wet… again. 

“Woah, dude, it was just a joke.” Billy shot his hands up in defence. 

You stand up off the bed to help as Steve pull Eddie back. 

“You need to work on your temper, bro,” Steve whispers to him. 

“Yea, well, I don’t need assholes disrespecting my girl.” He spat. 

Your heart fluttered, and your breath hitched at his words. You hadn’t had time to speak about anything of that nature; you were too busy exploring one another in a different way. But Eddie said you were his.

“Your girl, huh?” Billy scoffs. 

“Your girl?” You asked meekly. 

Eddie's face softened as he turned to face you. His cheeks reddened. 

“Yeah, I mean, if you wanna be?” he asked, reaching for your hands. 

You jump into his arms; he catches you, spins you around, and plants a fat, wet kiss on your lips, ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Ugh, get a room.” “So gross.” “Stop my eyes!” The three of them complained all at once, but you didn’t care. Eddie was finally yours.

As you slid down the front of Eddie’s body as he put you down, you could feel him getting hard again. 

“Walk me back to my cabin?”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.” He bowed with his arm pointed to the door. 

The walk to the cabin was not long, only about fifteen feet between Cabin 7 and Cabin 8. However, it seemed to take Eddie and you ten times longer to get there. Stolen kisses turned into make-out sessions and more groping.

Eddie had you pinned up against the back of the cabin, hands down your pants, whispering dirty words about how he’ll have you begging for mercy while he fills you with his fat cock, until you saw the light of a flashlight. The night watch was on duty; you realized it was past curfew and needed rest. 

“Goodnight, baby girl, sweet dreams,” Eddie left you with a head-spinning kiss. 

-

You felt like you were living in a fairytale; everything was perfect—maybe too perfect. Maybe you were being too cynical; it’s only been two weeks, and you shouldn’t think about when the ball will drop… 

Your past relationship wasn’t the best. Then again, you were in the 10th grade and didn’t know anything about relationships, nor did he. You were never cheated on, but you never felt like he was there for you when you needed him the most. 

It also didn't help that your parents disapproved of him. His family was not up to their standards, which you never understood. You were middle class, and your father worked very hard to support you and your mother.

Both of you had been kids, so it's not like you were getting married. But the pressures you felt from your parents and the lack of support in that relationship made your mind wander. You felt like you were just arm candy and nothing more.

There was no depth betwen you and your ex, and you were scared that would happen with Eddie. You have wanted to be with Eddie for so long, and you should be happy...

_

You decided to call Ashley that evening after dinner. She always knew how to make you feel better. It had been weeks since you had spoken on the phone.

Ash’s mom picked up after the second ring. 

“Well, hi sweetie, how have you been? Miss you around here!” 

“I’m great, Mrs. Thompson, thanks! I would be missing home, but there are more Hawkins here than usual.” You laughed. 

“Oh yeah, Ash told me Eddie was also there this summer, such a sweet young man.” she mused. 

“Yeah, he sure is sweet, alright.” You sighed. 

“Y/N, I’d say you have a crush on that boy!” She giggled. 

You always loved Ashley’s mom; she was like a second mom, but one you felt like you could talk to as a friend. 

“That’s kind of the reason I called...Is Ash around?”

“Yeah, just a second, sweetie… ASHLEY SWEETHEART, PHONE!” she yelled. 

You waited a few seconds and could hear her feet padding the floor to answer the phone. 

“Hey, bitch what’s up?” She laughed. 

“You are not going to believe what is up!” you half screamed excitedly. 

“Spill it, now.” You can picture Ash sitting at your shared kitchen table, ready and focused. 

“Do you want me to spare any details, or can you muster up the courage to take it all?” you giggled. 

“Details, now.” She demanded 

“Your friend is the best dick I’ve ever had!” You half-whispered in case anyone was about to come into the office. 

The line was silent for a few seconds. 

“Ash, you still there? Oh god, don't tell me your mom is still there?” Your apartment wasn't the biggest.

“You son of a bitch, you did it! I knew you could do it!” She cheered so loud you had to take the phone off your ear. “Tell me EVERYTHING!” And so you do...

“Fucking finally! I knew you would be perfect together.” 

“That's the thing, Ash. It’s too perfect. What if he realizes he made a mistake?” You bit your nail.

“No, dude, that’s not Eddie. I know that kid like the back of my hand. Once he is in it, he’s not giving up. He’s very set in his ways once he fixates on something,” she reassures. 

“But have you ever considered that we have never seen him with a girlfriend at school? What if he isn’t the relationship type?” You questioned. 

“Did you fall and hit your head? This is Eddie we are talking about. He is in charge of the Dungeons and Dragons Club. He is the biggest nerd on the planet. And you’re concerned he won’t want to be with you? The pretty angel of a human, hot, popular cheerleader?” 

“Well, yeah…” You sunk back into the chair, 

“You must have bashed your head into the headboard while Eddie rocked your world.” She laughed and you can't help but also laugh.

“I don't know; we are two totally different people! We are in two totally different groups. What if it doesn’t work out? What if we are too different? what about my parents?” 

“You and I are in two different groups. You and I are two totally different people, and we get along just peachy. Who says your parents even have to know?” 

"Well, they have to know eventually"

"Why are you planning on marrying him any time soon?" she snorts.

"...No"

Well, any other concerns you want to tell me about?” She quipped.

“Well… don’t kill me, but I told Eddie about our matching tattoos.” You cringed, hoping she wouldn’t kill you. 

“HA! I wish I were there to see the look on his face! Was it priceless?” She laughed. 

Ash and you started catching up with her and her trips to the city pool, and she said she had been going to the roller rink to see the cute counter girl. 

 “There you are, pretty girl.” You jumped as you turned to see Eddie walking over.  

“Shhhh, Im talking to Ash,” You hushed him. 

Before you could tell her he was there, he grabbed you by the middle, lifted you up and sat you on his lap. Then he took the phone. 

“AshCash! What’s up, man? It's been forever. Do you miss the dungeon master yet? Is Jeff holding up as my stand-in?” 

You can’t help but roll your eyes. This boy was talking a mile a minute. 

You couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation on her end, but you think she said something along the lines of “I’ll rip your dick off if you try anything funny with y/n.” Then Eddie laughed, saying, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Then he hung up.

“Hey, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!” You pouted. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Princess,” 

You continued to pout and crossed my arms to hike your breasts up. 

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m not responsible for what happens next.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” 

Eddie let out a groan of frustration. 

“Come on, princess. We have to go meet with the others; they’re complaining we're being too antisocial.” 

— 

The night continued, and you and your friends decided to let loose tonight. One more night was before the month ended, and the Campers turned over. You would miss your campers but couldn’t wait to meet the new ones. 

As you and Eddie walked over to the pit hand in hand, you could see the others around the already roaring campfire. 

“So, what were you two up to?” Robin asked, wiggling her brows. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You walk up behind her, surprising her with a kiss on the cheek. 

“You and Eddie sit on the only free log left, and he wraps an arm around you. 

“You guys are so cute.” Nancy sighs. 

“You are so lucky you live in the same town. That way, you won’t have to break up at the end of the summer.” Steve points out. 

That starts the gears turning in your head. Being at home with Eddie, the thought rarely even crossed your mind. What were you going to do? The only reason you’ve been so yourself with him was that you were here, hours away from home. What were your parents going to think? What was the town going to think? You built up this whole reputation around yourself so people would like you. You needed everyone to like you. What will they all feel when they see you around with Eddie?

They would judge you; you know they would. What will the football team say when one of their cheerleaders is dating the town pariah? 

Your mind was racing a mile a minute, and you lost track of the conversation. 

“Princess” 

You snapped out of your inner thoughts. 

“What?”

“I said I can’t wait to walk around Hawkins with you on my arm,” Eddie affectionately nuzzled his face into your shoulder.

“Oh, uh? Yeah… totally.” You reached for a drink from the cooler. You needed something to calm your nerves.  

“Gunna, show you off to the whole town. Tell everybody that I bagged the prettiest, most thoughtful, most caring, joyful girl in Hawkins. 

“ Can’t wait.” You smile half heatedly when you feel like your heart is sinking. 

Tags: @winchester-angel @josephquinnsfreckles @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @emma-munson @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @impmunson @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28 @kellsck @guineveresghost @ezzynf @oneforthemunny @brxkenartt @ktiutsa @sofiaadela @guineveresghost @nabiiturner @eddiesguitarskills

[dazed--xx]

🌒Rewriting Destiny🌒

Member: Duke! Chan x reader

Word count: 16k

Trigger warnings: ANGST, Death (FL), psychological, trauma, poisoning, parental neglect/abuse, arranged marriage, anxiety, Nobility, engagement at a young age, regression, murder, revenge, mentions of magic, PTSD, manipulation, regretful ML, Resentment, betrayal, classism, 17th century ideals, homophobia(mentions), SOME!historical accuracy, LOTS! of historical inaccuracies, BREAK UP!, grief, mourning, denial, failure to let go, etc…

A/N: God damn this mf long lol, this has taken fucking forever but I worked really hard on it and HAD to break it into two parts because of the length. Part 2 will probably focus more on Chan 'redeeming' himself and their relationship in the current timeline and more flirty moments. BUT I really hope you guys enjoy this one

Love….

What is love, truly?

If you were to ask her mother; Love is weakness. A nuisance and any signs of it will be dealt with accordingly.

If you asked her personal maid; She’d say love is a burning passionate inferno you must work hard to be sure it doesn't extinguish.

For Y/N; Love is torture. It grabbed a hold of you like a boa constrictor, engulfing your entire being before slowly squeezing the life out of you. She sat quietly as her maid, Aera, brushed her onyx tresses. “I heard His grace has returned from his expedition. Shall I make you extra pretty so you can give him your greetings, My lady?” Area questioned with a sad yet hopeful smile. Y/N looked at her through the mirror, “His grace would prefer to return on another year-long expedition than have my greetings” She commented softly. Her voice never wavered though, she was dying inside. “No…rather set up tea and snacks in the garden for the returning knights and his grace. Also, have the cooks prepare a hearty meal for them for dinner. The expedition may have contributed to strengthening the knights but they have a habit of neglecting their health.” She continues. Area nods as she finishes doing Y/Ns hair.

“And if his grace asks for your whereabouts?”

“I will be in my study” Y/N answers, knowing it made no difference.

Though it had been a year since she had last seen her husband. Her heart always shook in fear and excitement when he would return home from his expeditions. She sat at her vanity, taking a deep breath as her mother's voice rang in her ear. ‘If you fail as the Dutchess and don't produce an heir; You would beg for my punishment in comparison to the power of the Bang Dutchy.’ She flinched at the memory, her arm lifting in a defensive position as she waited for the strike that hadn't come in 10 years. She lets out a sigh of relief as she's brought back into the luxurious bedroom. Her breathing is shaky as she lifts herself from her seat. Her hands tremble as she brings herself in front of her bedroom door, she hesitates as she reaches for the handle. Just quickly make your way to the study. She tells herself; Keep looking forward and go to the study…Her heart feels like it could pound out of her chest as she pulls the door open. Out into the battleground that is the Dutchy. Out of the safety of the cage that is her bedroom.

It had begun shortly after she had arrived at the manor. The whispers from the maids and butlers about the Count's temptress of a daughter who tried to seduce the Duke at 8 years old. She learned early on that responding to or acknowledging such rumors was unbecoming of a Dutchess. Y/N winced as she remembered the stinging of the riding crop against her spine, from her attempt to speak against her sister-in-law, Kari, who was cheerfully laughing with her friends over the matter. She learned quickly, that her mother was correct. Failure, Weakness, and Disloyalty will be quickly snuffed out in the Dutchy. Her sister-in-law held reign over the staff and managed the household, ruling with an iron fist. Despite her title, to survive, Y/N lived as Kari’s dog.

While she was expected to represent the Dutchy at social gatherings, the nobility always referred to Kari for anything. Y/N was the Dutchess by title only. Aera, who came with Y/N from the county; Would complain late into the night about the other staff's mistreatment of her master. The many nights Aera would stay up with Y/N pleading for her to put in a formal complaint with the Duke.

She couldn't…

When she had married Chan, he had only one request after their wedding night. “Do not approach me beyond our scheduled meetings” so she remained with her head down allowing Kari to maintain her position. While she enjoyed remaining in the shadows. She could see the cogs spinning in Kari’s mind. The leash around her neck was tightening. New rules had been implemented courtesy of her ‘Husband’ and his return from his expedition.

The Dutchess is to be moved to the Rose annex

The Dutchess will refrain from returning to the main manor

The Dutchess may never needlessly approach the Duke.

The Dutchess will begin taking contraceptive potions nightly, immediately.

Y/N sat at her desk looking over the declaration once more. She was confused. It was normal for Chan to ask for her presence to be absent when he returned home; he'd usually requested to speak with her to discuss living arrangements as well as a schedule for ‘night meetings’ to keep appearances that they were trying for an heir. Y/N felt slightly disappointed, Chan had requested for her to take a medicinal potion that has proven harmful to her health. She sat for hours staring blankly out the window. The signs were beginning to appear one by one. The family she had married into had lost use for her...

Y/Ns blood ran cold as she came to the realization. The move to the annex, the maids becoming more and more ruthless, and the lack of guards around her annex becoming more frequent. Her time is slowly coming to an end. She wondered if there was a point to all of this. Would there be a point in running? Her mother would hunt her down and skin her alive if she did. ‘Die a respected Dutchess rather than run and be a divorced beggar’ she could hear her mother say. Y/N watches as the blue clear sky fades into a bright purple and orange hue.

A knock on her door pulls her attention away from her thoughts. “Yes?” She calls monotonously. “The Duke is in the receiving room, My lady.” Area calls softly. Y/N's eyebrows furrow in confusion. “My lady?” Area calls once again when she doesn't reply. “I-Im coming! I apologize, Aera.” Y/N replies as she shakily lifts herself from her seat. The whole walk to the receiving room Y/N worried.

Why was he here? He's never visited of his own accord. What could be happening? Would he cast her out himself? A petite hand grips her own pulling her out of her thoughts. Y/N stares at the owner, as Aera gives her a comforting smile. Y/N lets out a sigh, the butler pulls open the door. She hesitates for a moment, it had been a year—one full year, since she had last seen her husband. A lot could change in a single year. She feared how her husband had changed; it was never good for her. She entered the room, her heart sank into her stomach. There he sat, at the head of the room. A flurry of maids standing about waiting on baited breath for his every command. His hair was no longer the clean-cut style but overgrown, sitting raggedly over his forehead and disheveled. Evidence of his bath dripping onto his loose black shirt. He sat a scowl on his plush lips as he sipped his tea. “To what do I owe the honor, Your grace?” Y/N questioned monotonously. “Should I have a reason to visit my dear wife?” He states smugly as he places his tea on the table in front of him. “Especially when I do not receive her greetings after a year-long monster-hunting expedition and come to discover she no longer lives in the same house as me?” Y/N stares at him in bewilderment and confusion. “Your grace?” She stammered “Please, take a seat” He gestured to the loveseat in front of him, his face no longer containing any emotion.

Y/N sits nervously as she begins to question her husband. “I apologize, but what do you mean? I’ve received your letter and followed your instructions.” Chan furrowed his eyebrows as his ears perked up “What letter?” Y/N's attention is pulled away from him by the slight clink of a teacup being placed on the table in front of her. Y/N's eyes remained focused on the maid for a moment, she couldn't quite put her finger on it but something felt…off. “Have you gone deaf in the past 5 minutes?” Chan questions frustratedly. Y/N shakes her head taking hold of the teacup and taking a sip. “No, I apologize. I've not been feeling well today” Y/N states calmly. Her throat begins to feel a small burning sensation. “What letter? When did you receive a letter from me?” Chan asks stoically. Y/N coughs slightly “My apologies, I received your letter about one months time ago” She takes another sip of tea trying to alleviate the growing discomfort. Chan stares at her with his eyebrows raised “And you are sure it was addressed from me?” her throat begins to burn incessantly. Her eyes widen as her mouth fills with a coppery tast as she coughs again.

“My lady?!?!” Area exclaims worriedly “Y/N?!”

Only then does Y/N make the connection. The maid—She works in the main manor, and she’s Kari’s personal maid. Y/N stares at the teacup in her hand, dropping it in a panic. Her eyes meet Chan’s for a moment. He sat stoically, but his eyes never once left her. Y/N rushes to her feet, reaching out for her personal maid “Aera!” She calls. Her tone gurgles and hoarse as crimson cascades out of her mouth. Her legs give way beneath her as she feels arms around her. The room begins to grow blurry as she feels the life fading from her body.

No…No not yet, please God! Don't let me die! I didn't get away…I-I was never happy please! She prays God please let me be happy. “If I could do it all over again…Id have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…” She croaks as everything fades to black.

Her eyes shot open as she felt breath return to her lungs. Her hands trembled at her sides, her heart pounded in her chest. The familiar white walls with gold accents has her in a daze as she pulls herself from the duvet and rushes toward the window. My parents estate…She lets out a sigh as she steps back toward the bed. A warm soft wall blocks her path, “oomph” she hears from behind her. “M-My apologies, My Lady” a petite gentle voice called. Y/N's eyebrows furrow as she scans her maid's face. Aera looked…different—younger even. “I-I’m Aera…” she continued.

“What?” Y/N questions bewildered “Why are you introducing yourself to me? Am I at my parents estate?”

Aera gives her a befuddled expression “Pardon?”

“I know your name Aera, you've worked for me for 10 years now.”

Aera shakes her head at Y/Ns words “No, My lady. Today is my first day…” Y/N freezes for a moment. “Bring me a mirror!” she requests firmly. Aera rushes to her vanity and hands her a jade-handled mirror. Y/N stared at the object with shock and disbelief. How could this be possible? She wondered Kari had one of her maids destroy this on my wedding night…How—She flips the mirror, gasping in shock she's met with a youthful version of herself. Her cheeks were no longer sunken in and now sat a lively pink. Her skin and lips no longer pale and cracked. The scars from Kari’s punishments no longer decorated her hands and arms.

Did God hear her prayers? Has time gone back?

“Aera!” Y/N calls in an almost chipper tone. The young maid's ears perk up as she waits for a command. “Yes, My lady?” she answered eagerly. “You said it was your first day, correct?” Y/N questions kindly remembering how meek and nervous the young maid was when she first started. Aera nods profusely “Yes, My lady. The count and countess said I will be going with you after your marriage as it is customary.” she explains. Y/N smiles at her, their memories from the past 10 years flow through her mind. “Yes, I have heard as such” She states with a soft nod. “Take care of me well...” Y/N sighs happily “I will do my best!” Aera exclaims excitedly. “B-But, My lady?…May I ask why you said I have worked here the past 10 years?”

Y/N freezes for a moment. She didn't understand it herself. Had I really gone back in time? Could it have been a prophetic dream? How could I answer her? “I tend to get confused after a long sleep, My apologies” A loud bang on her door startled both of the young women. Y/N hears a familiar voice, her nanny, pleading with someone on the other side of the door. The familiar call of her nanny's voice has her rushing to the door and pulling it open. Her heart sinks to her stomach as she comes face to face with her mother.

A sharp sting on her cheek and the sound of skin connecting with each other rings through the air. Y/Ns legs give out beneath her as she stares up at her mother in shock, as she attempts to rack her brain in search of her mother's reasoning. It all felt too familiar “M-Mother…” Y/N stammered nervously. Her mother scowls at her “Have I given you permission to speak?” Y/N shakes her head rapidly; Her nanny and the maids stand frozen in their places as her mother brings her can down forcefully on her right hand. Y/N cries out in pain “I-I'm sorry!” she whimpers. “You should be. Not only did you have the sodomite escort you. The behavior you showed with that—that lowly Knight. You deserve worse…How dare you embarrass your family like that?!” Her mother scolded. Y/N shakes her head in denial as she finally remembers. “N-No…Hyunji—w-we were just talking—please!” She pleads trying to move her mother's cane from her hand.

“You are to be married to the future heir of the Bang Dutchy and you are galivanting with a knight. Smiling at another man in the same room as your fiancé.!” Her mother growled. “H-He’s a knight of the Bang Dutchy. I should be acquainted with my future people…” Y/N tries to argue to no avail. Her mother lifts the cane holding it firmly in her hand as she brings it down harshly on Y/Ns spine. Y/N cries out painfully “Stop!”

“Stop?! You behave like a courtesan and you expect not to be punished?!” Her mother brings the cane down in 3 quick whips.

“Countess! Countess! The bruises may not heal in time for the wedding!” Her nanny pleads “She learned her lesson…please!” Y/N stares at the ground burying the pain and tears as her mother taught her oh so many years ago. “Don't embarrass this family more than you already have.” her mother warns before turning and exiting the room. Y/N released a breath she didn't realize she was holding as the maids quickly shuffled around her. Bringing her to her feet and rapidly cleaning the small traces of blood on the ground. Y/N stared blankly ahead as they continued to fret and fuss about.

It would almost be impossible to call off the engagement…Mother would kill me if I was somehow able to get the contract annulled. Kari will kill me if I get married….10 years is a lot more time to come up with a plan….I just have to either get Bang Chan to help me annul the engagement(which should be no problem considering around now is when he began to despise me) or run away before Kari can kill me…

Please!

Do something!

Y/N?!

Someone help me please?!

Why are you just sitting there?!

Y/N? Please…Im begging you!

Open your eyes!

Chan’s eyes flash open. His heart is pounding rapidly in his chest as he caresses his head. Sitting up in bed he feels dizzy, his vision slightly blurry. “Young Master. Please lie down…you drank quite a bit last night.” His aide, Felix, states with a disappointed frown. Chan shakes his head in frustration. “Wouldn't you?” He growls. Felix stares at him stoically. “I understand the future young miss upset you. But it was I who suggested she get acquainted with the knights…you did not need to overindulge”

Chan furrows his eyebrows “Future young miss? What are you talking about?!” Chan snaps “I'm not getting married again I told you this!”

Felix raises his eyebrow in confusion “Pardon? Again” Felix brings his hand to Chan’s forehead. “Are you not feeling well?” Chan shakes his hand off of him. Only then does he realize; Felix looked…different. It was Felix, he could clearly see it was him, but he was—younger! Chan quickly shoved his duvet to the side and rushed over to the large mirror across the room. His eyes widened as his youthful appearance came into view. “Felix?!” Chan exclaims excitedly as he touches his own face over and over “How old am I?!”

Felix stares at him like he's grown a second head “19?” He answers confused. Chan smiles at himself in the mirror as a laugh erupts from his chest. He takes a few steps back as tears fill his eyes. “It worked…” He whispers to himself. “It really worked…” A sob begins to crash over him like a tidal wave as tears cascade down his cheeks. “Young master?” Felix questions worriedly. Chan shakes his head in response. He won't understand….not anymore Chan thinks to himself. “Nothing” Chan sniffles quickly trying to pull himself together. “So about the young miss?” Felix questions. “It's just as you said. The rumors about her started because of your suggestion. You should get ahead of them and have any one that spreads false information dealt with immediately.” Chan states as his eyes grow dark.

His mind wanders to Y/N…A new life Y/N, I promise. I'll give you a new life. I'll make sure marrying me isn't your biggest regret this time. Her memories, her pain, her death. He prays it was all reset with this spell. He wished he could forget it all too. But now he had a chance. A chance to fix things. A way to make sure nothing bad could happen this time: a chance to protect her properly this time. “Felix what's on my schedule today?”

“A meeting with the Duke. Then to the training grounds after that, I believe Lady Kim wished to have tea to discuss your venture into her guild. After that, I believe the Dutchess has requested your presence at dinner tonight.” Felix explained studiously. Chan held back a snicker at the way his best friend behaved when they were younger. Remembering the astute Mage he's destined to become. “Tell Lady Kim, I apologize but I must go to the L/N County,” Chan states as Felix hands him a button-down shirt and black slacks. “Also, please inform the count Id like to speak with him.” Chan explains as he grabs his clothes and begins to dress himself. Felix places his hand on Chan's shoulder giving him a knowing but serious look as he shakes his head in disapproval. Chan sighs in frustration. God dammit…he does remember.

“Fine. Tell my father that I will be there soon”

Y/N strolled quietly through the garden as her mind wandered. How could she get away from here? She sighed; Her hands trembled slightly at how terrible the punishment would be for attempting to call off her engagement. The sun's rays danced upon her cheeks. The warmth embraced her comfortingly. Her greenhouse appears over the small hill leading off the property and into the forest. Her heart swelled in happiness. It had been so long since she had last seen her little oasis. After she had woken up in the past; her mother placed her on strict lockdown after the ‘stunt’ she pulled at the banquet. It was now 10 days until her wedding… She pouted to herself He's going to be visiting soon….She could remember vividly how it went the first time

*10 years ago- First timeline*

Y/N stood in the garden. A small smile on her lips as she helped the gardener with the Strelitzias. Her heart quaked in anticipation. She's going to be married in 5 days. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, her fiancé would be arriving at any moment. Y/N couldn't contain the giddiness she felt at seeing her handsome raven-haired fiancé. She had not seen him for 2 years due to his involvement in the war. She had heard he returned a month prior

Y/N felt slightly disappointed when Chan did not come to see her right after his return. They had grown close over the past few years. She assumes that the war had left him fatigued and he needed rest. It had been odd to her that she had also learned of his return through the rumor mill and not from him. She had written him frequently during the war, though his letters have dwindled over the past year she still held out hope. Hope that he felt the same way. Hope for their future. Hope for friendship and mutual love. So as she returned back to her room and learned Chan was in the reception room, she quickly rushed to greet him. Her heart almost burst with excitement.

She smiled brightly as she entered the room. “Channie!” she exclaimed cheerfully as she made her way to the loveseat across from Chan. She freezes when he lifts his hand and a dark glare sits on his face. “Please refrain from using such childish nicknames. I am the heir to the Bang Dutchy; not one of your lowly playmates” He states monotonously. Y/N's eyebrows furrow in confusion “I-I apologize, Your Grace” Chan nods boredly, he snaps his finger, and his aide, Felix, hands him a small stack of letters. “Also, refrain from doing this anymore as well. Our engagement and marriage are nothing but formalities. Do not allow yourself to be confused.” He tilts his head slightly with an arrogant smirk. “There is no reason to harass me with useless things while I am at war. I am only marrying you to inherit my rightful title.” He scolds. Tears build in Y/Ns eyes as she stares into her lap for a moment. She takes one…two….three shaky breaths before she quickly masks her emotions. “I made the mistake of believing we were friends. I apologize, Your Grace” She states meekly. Her expression is completely blank as she stared at Chan. “I do not recall myself telling you we are friends, I do not wish to grow a close relationship with you!” He snaps “I understand, and why is this? What have I done?” Y/N questions.

“A lowly Count’s daughter like you doesn't deserve to marry into the Bang Dutchy. You lack the education, etiquette, and overall quality to be the Dutchess…but since my mother is so insistent on this. Be sure to stay out of my way—both before and after our wedding. I will do my husbandly duties but do not expect love nor affection in our marriage”

*Present*

Y/N shuddered at the memory. She wished she could go back and smack herself for allowing him to belittle her in such an embarrassing manner. At the time, she sat still and properly lowered her head due to his words. This time, she will take any form of punishment from her mother just to make Chan the one flustered and utterly mortified. She'd lay down her life if that's what it takes to prevent the marriage she experienced before she came back in time. “My lady, why are you just staring at the door?” Aeras petite voice pulls her from her thoughts. Y/N jumps from the intrusion, her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “I was just thinking…” she chuckles slightly.

“You have received a letter from the young master of the Bang Dutchy….” Aera states softly as she extends her hands holding a small letter tray with an envelope sitting in the middle. The Bang seal is a prominent fixture in the middle of the envelope. Y/N stares at the tray for a moment. What? He never sent me a letter before he arrived in my past life… why? She questioned to herself as her eyes never once left the seal. “My lady?” Aera asks worriedly. Y/N shakes her head in response as she takes the letter and opening it.

‘Dear Lady Y/N,

I apologize for not writing you sooner. War had taken hold of my mind and I could not allow myself to be distracted. I returned home a little over 20 days ago, and once again I extend my apologies. I must say, I find myself wondering how you are doing. My mind seems to be full of nothing but you. Have these two years been kind to you? My heart races in anticipation at the thought of our marriage. I know these past two years may have been difficult but as I am home now, I will take care of you. I hope to see you. I long to see you, my heart aches as these days pass and I am losing my patience. May I please see you tomorrow? You cannot imagine my longing. I shall wait for your letter.’

-Bang Chan

Y/N's eyes widen as her cheeks burn a bright scarlet as she reads the contents of the letter. Why did he say these things? Who was this person? How could things be so different than I remember? “Aera, Can you please bring me stationary and something to write with?” She requests flustered.

No matter how many sweet words may be exchanged…Our marriage is only destined for disaster.

Chan’s leg shook in excitement. He'd sent Y/N a letter just this morning yet, he was on the edge of his seat. Hoping she’d respond as she always did. He felt giddy at the thought of receiving one of her love-filled letters once again. He'd missed reading every passionate word. She wouldn't leave his mind. Her smile, Her soft expressions, the gentle honorable way she held herself. Everything about his fiancè had his body practically vibrating. He no longer wished to wait to claim his wife once again. He lost her in his previous life, long before the burning memory of her final moments continuously plagued his dreams nightly. He needed to see her, speak to her, and finally for once just hold her. He prayed for her letter to come soon. He contemplated just using his title to force his way into the County and planting himself beside her, but Felix warned against it. ‘Never force your emotions on a woman’ He explained. Chan felt as if he was going mad.

A knock on his door has him jumping to his feet. The sight of a letter in the butler's hand makes him rush to grab it off the tray. He stared at the letter, his finger tracing over the count's seal. He couldn't help but feel a slight twinge in his chest. He could remember how excited he'd get to receive a letter from her in his first life. Every letter he had received from her contained this seal. He could still remember how harshly he'd been forced to snap on her in his previous life about her letters. He scolded himself, but he never received another letter from her after that day. Even then, he regretted saying those words as soon as he uttered them. But at the time, the risk Kari posed in her life overpowered any feelings he had for his fiancè. He should have realized back then, that even if he distanced himself from her as long as Y/N sat on the Dutchess seat, her life would be in danger. His breath was shaky as he opened her letter.

‘Dear Lord Chan,

My apologies, your grace. I have been ill recently and cannot see you. Welcome back, as you understand rest is important to ones health so I believe it would be best to not see each other until I've regained my strength.

-Y/N L/N’

Chan's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief as it felt like his heart was shattering in his chest. No…Why? She's lying…Why is she lying? She's not sick…she wasn't in my previous life…so why? His hands shook at his side as anger and confusion bubbled inside of him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down. Why would she lie? In the past, she was waiting for me! She loves me right now so why? I hadn't made any mistakes yet…….

Perhaps she was truly ill, yet he couldn't remember a single sign of illness from his previous memories. He can vividly remember her excitement, the cheerful way she exclaimed his childhood nickname. Is she avoiding me? No…She couldn't be…She loves me…She adores me…but what if—-his stomach churned. “No, there has to be an explanation.” He whispers to himself. “I should send the doctor there and—Felix!” He calls “Prepare a carriage!” He had to see for himself, he needed to see her—even just a small glimpse would satisfy this desperate ache. The memory of his beloved coughing up blood as she desperately clung to her personal maid, sent a sharp spear through his chest. Her final words ring through his mind ‘If I could do it all over again…Id have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…’ He winced to himself. As the image of her body appears before him, he drops to his knees in a panic. His breath gets caught in his throat as he desperately reaches out toward the apparition. No! She's alive! She's alive now…I need to see her. I need to be absolutely sure everything is going right. “How am I supposed to continue waiting?!” Chan exclaims to himself as he clenched his fist slamming it on the ground.

“Patience…” A familiar deep voice responds. Chan lifts his head as he sees Felix holding Y/N’s letter. “Felix…—No. My memories may slowly be returning but I do remember how specific I was…nothing. And I mean nothing must change prior to your first meeting that day with Y/N. Your impatience can ruin everything we've worked for!” Felix cuts him off. “I don't remember this from before so why do you have another letter? When did you request to see her?” Felix questions. Chan shakes his head, “How did you expect me to just remain still and try to do things like before?! How can you expect me to not want to see her?!” Felix snaps his finger and the letter goes up in flames. Chan’s eyes widen as a look of horror decorates his features. “NO! What did you do?”

“I'm fixing the mistakes you made, lets hope things didn't change too much with this. I told you, there are consequences for even going back in time. Someone is still going to die. If you act before it is time, then that person will be Y/N again. The only person who can change things now is her. It's her life at stake. It's her fate! She's the only one permitted to mess with it. Things will go the same if you try too early. Remember, her memories aren't intact.” Felix states. “I will contact my resource in the county and give you an update on her okay? That is the most we can do until your paths cross as they did before.” He stares at Chan with a serious expression. Even at his small level of magic, his ability was terrifying. He implanted his memories to return slowly so as to not overwhelm his body with mana. Placing the unlocked mana of a high mage into his younger self could ruin any magic he had done before he turned back time.

“Can’t I just go see her…I will not interact with her. Just see her, she likes her garden so it shouldn't be too difficult to not be seen?” Chan asks desperately. Felix gives him an apologetic look. Chan feels himself deflate. Why didn't I see her when I first came home in my previous life? He whimpered to himself My beloved Y/N, wait for me.

Y/N’s hand trembles as her carriage approaches Bang Manor. She stared blankly into her lap, her hands looking almost smaller with the bright pink lace gloves sitting just above her elbow. The corsetted pink dress felt like pins and needles upon her skin. She adjusted the bust attempting to cover the very prominent cleavage. “Stop fussing with it!” Her mother growls. “It does not feel proper nor comfortable…” Y/N calmly states. Her mother closes her fan leaning forward with a smirk “Comfort, is a luxury you cannot afford. You need to look and behave perfectly.”

Y/N nods half-heartedly. “Men, no matter their title or accolades, cannot resist a womans ‘charm’ even a woman like you” her mother snides. “Mother, it is a garden party, for the women of high society. There will be no men.”

“Do you forget who's home this is?”

“How could I forget…” Y/N felt herself growing more and more frustrated at her mother's insistence on continuing the conversation. She did not wish to attend this garden party. How she wished her nanny hadn't been able to talk her mother down a few days ago now. In her previous life, Y/N begged and pleaded with her mother to allow her to attend this party. Her future sister-in-law personally invited her and her attendance was expected but, due to the banquet fiasco and the bruises left from her punishment, Y/N was forced to remain home while her mother attended the older women's party. Now that she knew what could possibly await her and Kari’s true nature, Y/N would do anything to not attend this party. She would have to remain alert and proper. She could not make a single mistake. Kari was as manipulative as she was beautiful. She was cunning and could destroy Y/Ns life with a single smirk. Y/N was the daughter of a lowly Count, though she had been engaged to Chan for 7 years now; Kari always liked to remind her of her position in society.

This garden party, in particular, Kari would describe as an introductory party. In her past, Y/N learned why Kari truly held these parties. Kari and the most prosperous daughters of the nobility enjoyed vetting and ‘playing’ with the hopeful ‘lower class’ of Viscounts, Barons and Earls. They'd enjoy pretending to spend time with the daughters all while slowly sucking away their ability to think a single thought without the higher-up's input. Y/N was the 14th girl they had done this to in both of her lifetimes, unfortunately. “Countess, Lady Y/N we have arrived.” the coachman called. Y/N's heart sinks deeper into her stomach as she feels a wave of nausea takes over her. Her mother raised her eyebrow as she stared at her. “Behave. And don't embarrass us.” Her mother growls as she exits the carriage and makes her way into the manor. Y/N steadies her breathing for a moment before she slowly lifts herself from her seat, exiting the carriage she is greeted by the familiar staff. The memories of their cruel taunts and whispers flash through her mind. Words get caught in her throat as she looks away from them. They didn't do it yet…things have changed…they won't hurt me this time. She reassures herself. A maid points her to the path to the garden, taking a deep breath she makes her way over to the party.

Y/N couldn't help but admire the Dutchess’ garden, knowing how much pride her mother-in-law put into creating this garden herself. Leaning in to smell the gorgeous roses she halts as a mop of jet-black hair catches her attention. She couldn't say she was surprised at the expensive, elegant aura Kari radiated. The false friendly smile that sat perfectly on her plush lips, as she ‘entertained her new pets.’ Y/N stood frozen in place as she watched her sister-in-law chat with her friends, looking almost innocent. If this had been the past, Y/N would have rushed over to the table excitedly as she imagined every other girl did when they arrived. She mentally curses herself when Kari’s eyes meet hers. A bright beaming smile forms on the younger girl's lips as she lifts herself from her seat at the table and makes her way over. “I'm glad to see you made it! My brother said you have been ill.” Kari exclaimed. “Greetings Lady Bang. My health has improved and I made a commitment, I'm here to honor it.” Y/N responded with the same amount of faux enthusiasm. Kari smiles as she tilts her head slightly “How becoming of the future Dutchess.” Kari gestures toward the table. “Please, have a seat.” Y/N stares at the only free seat available, right beside Kari and her friends.

Y/N could feel their scornful stares behind their sweet facades. She despised these women, the select few that made her previous life absolute hell. “Lady Y/N, I heard life in the county can be quite desolate. I'm glad to see its beginning to prosper considering your dress.” A red head named Sera questioned. Sera’s father, a marquis, was a ruthless tyrannical man. In her past life, Sera did not fall too far behind him. She was a viper of a woman. Her venom laced rumors could make or break a young woman reputation in high society. Kari eventually cast Sera out when it was revealed she had been in an 12 year affair with a knight in her fathers estate and in her desperation, attempted to bed Chan. Being the overprotective younger sister she was, Kari quickly cut off one of Sera’s hands at the wrist. ‘Do not covet something nor someone far above you…’ Kari warned the redhead.

Y/N shuddered at the memory. The sounds of Sera’s ear piercing blood curtling screams began to echo in her mind. “Where else would she have gotten it?” A blonde girl, Naeun, snickered “Her fiancè is the future Duke. Of course he wouldn't want her to wear her normal rags…” Y/N felt her blood run cold at the mention of Chan as she stares blankly at the teacup. She could imagine her mothers expression from the table across the garden. She knew proper etiquette; she should just drink the tea but, the idea of raising a single cup from this home has her growing weary. Kari had a target on her back for a long time. Y/N herself did not know for sure how long ago Kari’s hatred of her began. She couldn't be sure if her life was safe at the moment. Kari stared at her mischievously, “Is the tea not to your liking?” Y/N instinctively perked up as she lifted the cup to her lips taking a hesitant sip. “My apologies,” Y/N stated graciously “I must have lost myself for a moment.” Kari raised her eyebrow, a smirk hidden behind her teacup. “Beside that, I heard you recently became acquainted with our Knight, Hyunjin, has he lived up to your expectations?” Kari questioned innocently. “Beyond, as you may have heard I will be married soon, I recently heard he will be marrying his fiancé shortly after becoming my escort. What a lovely couple I will have serve me, I felt it was best to become acquainted prior so they could enjoy a honeymoon. I'd be honored for them to serve me on their return. ” Y/N countered politely.

“I’m sure you would…” Sera chimed.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, it's just—it has been said you adore beautiful men so it wouldn't be surprising that Hyunjin is the first knight you approach…” Sera snides as the rest of the table begins to whisper amongst themselves. Y/N fought the need to groan “Are you insinuating something?” She questioned gracefully. Sera smirks as she flashes Kari a side-eye before responding when Kari nods subtly “I feel it is unbecoming of the future Dutchess to be involved in such a scandal. Imagine the embarrassment your fiancè must feel…” Y/N couldn't hold back her snicker “I expect you would know more about something like that, no? And the only ‘beautiful men’ I have been seen with are my future guard, my brother, and my fiancè. ” Y/N raises her eyebrow as she stares Sera down. “Your brother? Isn't he a fugitive?” Naeun questions worriedly as the group continues to whisper. “For what crime?” Sera questions with a look of concern. If there was anything Y/N could give to these three; it was their knack for theatrics. “Sodomy. He lies with men, but how could it be helped he comes from a perverse family.” Naeun gossiped. Y/N feels her blood boil, turning to Kari she lifts herself from her seat. “I must apologize. It seems I have not been as well as it seemed” She states before she quickly turns away from the table and makes her way back toward her carriage. She could feel three sets of eyes burning holes into her back as she made her escape.

Staring at nothing but the ground she walked away attempting to remain as invisible as possible. No wonder Chan changed so much…what else must he have heard back then? Have I always seemed so….disgusting? What did my brother do wrong? He was an amazing person, why did who he loved matter to everyone else? How could anyone be so nasty? A wall of muscle pulls her out of her thoughts as she collides with someone. “My apologies…” she squeaks as she pulls away attempting to make another escape due to her embarrassment. Her eyes widen when she feels two strong hands on her waist holding her steady. Her eyes trail from the broad firm chest covered by the black petticoat embroidered with golden tassels, up to their face. Her heart pounds rapidly against her chest as she comes face-to-face with her fiancè. “No, I should have been paying better attention but I grew distracted.” Chan apologized, his tone laced with something unfamiliar to her. “D-Distracted?” Y/N felt herself growing overwhelmed and panicked. It had been so long since I had last seen him…She thinks to herself Has he always been this beautiful? She shakes the thought out of her head as she feels Chan caress her cheek. His eyes never leave hers as he gives her a small smile. Why are you looking at me like that? She wonders.

“Yes, I was entranced by the view and lost myself”

A squeak is released from her throat as Chan pulls her into his chest. “Y-Your grace?” she exclaimed in shock. She feels Chan freeze for a moment, his hands coming to hold her shoulders as he pulls back. His eyebrows furrow together as he leans in close and examines her face intently. Embarrassment fills her stomach as her cheeks become a bright scarlet “C-Channie?” the nickname falls out of her mouth uncontrollably. Chan’s eyes brighten as his lips spread into a widen grin. “What a relief….” He whispers to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, where are you going? Are you still not feeling well?”

“Unfortunately, so I am returning home.” Y/N lies. Chan stares at her with an almost desperate and heartbroken look. “N-No! But—why don't you lay down inside?” Chan suggests panickedly. Y/N stares at him bewildered. Who is this man? The Chan I know would have never suggested for me to rest here. “It would be best for me to return home…” she answers calmly. “Why? If it is about privacy, your room has been prepared for you already.” He responds casually. Y/N stared at him confused. My room? Before…i never had a room. Just guest room after guest room until I was banished to the annex…. “M-My room?”

“Yes? We are to be married in 7 days time. Why would you not have a room?”

“I—we aren't married yet…”

“You sound quite relieved about that….” Chan states with a sad pout. Y/N stares at him bewildered “Pardon?” a smirk forms on his lips “Was I wrong? You won't abandon me at the altar, correct?” he chuckles. Y/N doesn't say anything, just frozen in place with his arm wrapped around her waist as he leads her toward the manor. Her mouth hung open “That was not funny was it? My apologies” Chan states nervously as he escorts her inside. “Y-Your grace…it would be quite inappropriate for me to stay here. I will be returning home, my apologies” Y/N states trying to sound firm and still graceful as she turns to walk back toward her carriage. Chan grips her wrist softly “Y/N, wait! Please.” Y/N forces her wrist out of his hand. “Unhand me! Listen, and listen well…I don't wish to marry you. A marriage to you means too much and I don't want that responsibility. I don't want to be the Dutchess nor do I wish to continue to be held with such contempt by so many people. If you haven't heard, I'm not worthy of such a title. And I'm not going to risk my life to be married to you.” She growls trying to hold herself together. Chan stares at her wide-eyed for a moment before his eyes darken “What? What are you talking about? Who said you aren't worthy of that title?” Y/N shakes her head, “Do not mind that. Just know, that I will not marry you with joy and acceptance in my heart…”

“What happened? Tell me. Now.”

“Why must something have happened?”

“Y-You wouldn't be like this….You love me. What happened? Tell me and I can correct it. Who said you aren't worthy of being the Dutchess? Was it someone at Kari’s party?” Chan questions his anger growing more and more evident. Y/N instinctively flinches at the mention of Kari’s party. Her heart sinks as Chan walks past her toward the entrance to the garden. “Where are you going?” Y/N questions worriedly. Chan ignores her as he continues walking. “It is unbecoming of the future Duke to just abruptly end a conversation by walking away…”

“Were you going to answer a single one of my questions?” Chan retorts a menacing tone in his voice as he enters the garden with Y/N hot on his heels. “Your Grace, please, it is nothing..” She pleads with him as the laughter from the garden begins to ring through her ears. “Your grace!” Chan continues to ignore her as he walks straight up to Kari. “Pardon me ladies, but I must speak with my dear sister….” Chan states menacingly as he grips Kari’s arm lifting her from her seat and pulling her toward the Manor. “What is this about?” Kari questions, her eyes wide as fear takes over her features. As he passes a knight he leans over to him “Show Lady Y/N L/N to her room.” He commands in a whispered tone. “And do not allow her to leave until I've spoken with her.” The knight walks over to Y/N, “This way, My lady” He gestures toward the path she had just taken. With a reluctant nod, Y/N follows him.

“Y-Your grace…it would be quite inappropriate for me to stay here. I will be returning home, my apologies”

Chan’s heart sinks, No…You can't! Why? Why do you want to leave so bad? I've finally seen you, you're finally here in front of me….why are you behaving like this? His hand reaches out instinctively as she turns away, gripping her wrist softly “Y/N, wait! Please.” An ache forces its way through his chest as she pulls her wrist out of his hand. “Unhand me! Listen, and listen well…I don't wish to marry you.” Lies… “ A marriage to you means too much and I don't want that responsibility.” You can't be telling me the truth! You have to be lying…. “ I don't want to be the Dutchess nor do I wish to continue to be held with such contempt by so many people.” What? Contempt? My beloved…. “If you haven't heard, I'm not worthy of such a title. And I'm not going to risk my life to be married to you.” She growls trying to hold herself together. Chan stares at her wide-eyed for a moment before his eyes darken, I’ll kill them all… “What? What are you talking about? Who said you aren't worthy of that title?” His tone full of venom, his blood boils when Y/N only shakes her head and tries to wave him off “Do not mind that. Just know, that I will not marry you with joy and acceptance in my heart…” This couldn't be true, not after everything he had done. Not before he could make amends. Something….something had to have happened.

“What happened? Tell me. Now.”

“Why must something have happened?”

“Y-You wouldn't be like this….You love me. What happened? Tell me and I can correct it. Who said you aren't worthy of being the Dutchess? Was it someone at Kari’s party?” Chan questions his anger growing more and more evident. He notices the way she flinches at the mention of Kari’s party. That conniving little rodent! Seething at the way Y/N had a flash of fear when it came to this simple party. She should have been fine! She should have been safe! Kari’s hatred ran much deeper than I expected….He thinks to himself as he brushes past Y/N making his way toward the entrance to the garden. “Where are you going?” Y/N questions worriedly. He shakes his head to himself as he ignores her and continues walking. “It is unbecoming of the future Duke to just abruptly end a conversation by walking away…”

“Were you going to answer a single one of my questions?” Chan retorts a menacing tone in his voice as he enters the garden with Y/N hot on his heels. “Your Grace, please, it is nothing..” She pleads with him as his sister comes into his view, seeing nothing but red he makes his way over to his sister. “Your grace!” Chan continues to ignore Y/N as he stands in front of Kari. “Pardon me ladies, but I must speak with my dear sister….” Chan states menacingly, taking note of the fearful and guilty way she looked back at his fiancè before he grasps Kari’s arm lifting her from her seat and pulling her toward the Manor. “What is this about?” Kari questions, her eyes wide as fear takes over her features. Good….Time for you to learn your place here…He seethes as he passes a knight he leans over to him “Show Lady Y/N L/N to her room.” He commands in a whispered tone. “And do not allow her to leave until I've spoken with her.” Chan continues making his way into the manor with Kari.

“You can't just embarrass me like this!” Kari whines as she stomps her foot while the butlers open the main door.

“You cannot handle a fraction of the embarrassment you've caused Lady Y/N?!” He growls. “I do not understand, brother please just explain…” Kari stammered nervously. “Do you think me a fool?” Chan snaps as he grabs a vase and chucks it against the wall “Which one of those women told my fiance she is not worthy of our marriage?” Kari stares at him wide-eyed, her anger and fury decorating her features. “She may hear worse things when she becomes the Dutchess. She cannot run to you every time someone says something rude! And a lowly—whore like her is not worthy of becoming the Dutchess” She argues. Chan draws his sword as his eyes burn with a passionate rage “If you wish for your tongue to remain in your mouth, I would stop speaking”

“I am your sister! I am your true family! You would betray your blood for some pathetic Count's daughter? Placing someone so—so dirty in that position is an insult to our entire lineage!” Kari argues, Chan knows this could be dangerous. Y/N could be hurt faster by him pissing his sister off but between finding out just the fraction of what Y/N was put through at the hands of his sister before she died, and Y/N brushing him off because of his sister and her antics; his rage could not be contained any longer. “You have no need to worry, I will handle her and she knows I would like to speak with her after the party.” Kari continues. “No. You've proven too lenient with your friends, bring her to me. You have until the end of the day!” Chan declares.

“No! You’re going to be too harsh on her when she said nothing untrue! Lady Y/N is not worthy of being the Dutchess. Just from her family’s reputation alone she should not be permitted to be in that position! There is nothing honorable about bringing a crazy incoherent count, a vile and ignorant countess nor their sodomite son into our family and tainting it with their blood! She’s dirty and tainted because they are!” Kari snaps

“Have you forgotten who chose this engagement?! You volatile spoiled little child! I have gifted you leniency because father always concerns himself with your health but your insolence will stop now. You are to stay in the rose annex until you've repented by bringing me the one that said the fiancè chosen by both me and the current Dutchess is unworthy; Only then will your punishment be lifted.” Chan states firmly as he walks away from the foyer leaving Kari burning with a passionate rage in her stomach.

“You can't just do this to me! Because of one whore?!”

“Guards, bring my sister to the rose annex. She is to stay there until the one that has spoken such blasphemous words has been dealt with.” Chan ignores her as he makes his way to Y/Ns room on the second level of the Manor. His heart races as he knocks trying to quell his anger. “Come in…” Y/N calls monotonously. Chan hesitates for a moment. Has she calmed down? Will she pull away again? He sighs heavily as he pushes the door open. Y/N sat by the window staring blankly out of it, “May I return home?” She questions softly. “You should rest for a while and return home after…” He suggests kindly, as he strides across the room, his hand caressing her lower back. Y/N continues to stare out the window. Chan's eyes wander over her face. His heart fluttered as he embedded every inch of her face into his memory. The beautiful sunset hues that painted the room, she looked ethereal.

I have to get out of here....

Y/N thought to herself. She could feel Chan's eyes burning holes into her face. Confusion flowed through her. Why was he behaving so.....oddly? For the first time in a long time, she prayed her mother would be looking for her. She felt Chan shift, his arms wrapping around her waist as he leaned on her slightly. She notices the soft inhale he does as he nuzzles against her neck. "Y-Your grace?" She questions nervously as she steps forward slightly releasing his grip on her. "My apologies..." Chan smirks subtly "I was entranced by such beauty and behaved according to my own desires" he states flirtatiously. Y/N stares at him, her cheeks flushed as a bewildered gaze is painted on her features. What?....He couldn't be talking about....me? right? She wondered, How can he be so different than before? "W-well, I would like to request that you please refrain from such things, i-it is inappropriate and can be misunderstood" Y/N stammers nervously. She mentally palms herself for allowing her nerves to show.

"What could be misunderstood between a betrothed couple?" Chan argues his frustration grows at her behavior.

"Our marriage has not been officiated....we are not husband and wife currently, Your Grace. Therefore, Things can be misunderstood. You would not like if my reputation is ruined any more than it already is, would you?" She questions graciously as she turns to sit at the small loveseat in the center of the room. Chan remains where he stood by the window, his fists clenched at his sides. "Is that why you're reluctant to allow me to be close to you? What others would say?" He questions behind gritted teeth. Y/N can feel the room grow colder as she turns to look at Chan. His jaw was clenched as he stared out the window. "People say horrid things about me as it is. i would prefer to not be the topic of gossip." She states softly.

"Our wedding is in 7 days..." Chan states innocently. A pure, excited look on his features as he perks up. Her eyes widen, "Pardon?" her voice squeaks in shock. Chan's eyebrows raise as he approaches the loveseat and rests his hand on your shoulder. "Is a week's time too long?" He questions excitedly. She turns to face him a look of bewilderment on her features. "Your Grace..." Y/N sighs as she stares at her lap "I don't understand...."

"You said you would be worried about what people said about my behavior since we haven't officiated our marriage. I can hold the ceremony tomorrow if you wish." He states with an innocent pout. Who is this man? She wonders to herself. The wedding is supposed to be in a week. What does he mean, he could hold it tomorrow? Why is everything so different? Everything has changed....does that mean I can live? "Your Grace...I believe you have misunderstood me. I said I would be concerned about my reputation due to your behavior since I will not be marrying you" She states boldly. She feels his hand tense on her shoulder. "W-what?" He questions with a stammer.

"I was going to send a letter but since I was able to meet you here, I would like to request that you annual our engagement" She states coldly as she stares forward at the door. Chan feels his heart drop into his stomach. Y/N can feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. It sat quiet for what felt like hours before Chan released her and made his way out of the room without saying a word.

Y/N released the breath that caught in her throat. Relief washes over her as she gains the ability to breathe freely. Taking the opportunity, Y/N rushes out of the room and into the foyer where the workers freeze momentarily. Their eyes burn into her and she remembers their judgmental gazes from before. The way they'd eagerly follow Kari's command and torment her in their own ways. I can't stay here...Just through this door...She willed herself as she continued to run through the front door and onto the front lawn, seeing her carriage just past the gate; she walked quickly toward it. intercepting her mother who was being escorted into it. she avoids her mother's glare as she sits in the seat. Letting out a sigh of relief at her escape, she flinches quickly as her mother's hand connects with her cheek.

Chan's hands shook at his side as he rushed through the corridors. This cannot be true he thinks she has to be lying. Someone had to have said something to her. Chan couldn't process her words even as they continue to replay in his mind.

'I would like to request that you annual our engagement'

'I would like to request that you annual our engagement'

'I would like to request that you annual our engagement'

The words torment him as he searches profusely for Felix. This isn't right...This can't be possible. She loves me, she has always loved me. Why wouldn't she want to marry me? He rushes down the stairs to the back sunroom, he notices the familiar mop of blonde hair. Felix stood in the garden staring out of the gate as he watched a carriage as it left. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he stood with his hands cupped together behind his back. "Felix!" Chan calls, panicked as he rushes toward his aide. Felix stares at Chan with a look of concern. "What do you remember about the countess from your previous marriage to Lady Y/N?" Felix asks curiously. Chan freezes for a moment, "N-Not much, She died a year or two after our marriage. Y/N didn't go to her funeral..." He explains. Felix sighs, his head resting in his hand. "No...she wasn't permitted to leave at that time..." The blonde mutters quietly. Chan's eyes widen "On whose authority?"

"Yours. Your Grace" Felix snides "It was during your first monster hunting expedition"

"Anyway," Chan waves off his words not wanting to remember his brutish behavior "What about the countess? Has she become unruly?"

"She struck Lady Y/N...." Felix states bewildered "Quite harshly I may add" Chan's blood boils at Felix's words. She what? Chan feels his heart sink in his stomach. Did Y/N get hit often? Is this why she doesn't want to marry me? Chan's jaw clenches as his right hand instinctively reaches for his sword. "What?" He questions. Felix's eyes darken, "My contact in the County informed me it was a normal occurrence. Lady Y/N has endured harsh beatings from the Countess for many years on occasion having many bruises to the point she cannot appear in public" He states with a concerned and guilty tone. Chan's throat tightens, No that can't be true...That means before...

"Your Grace, did you know?"

"How could I have known? Even when we were in my chambers at night, I had to remain distant because of Kari's spies. We wouldn't really talk we'd just--" Chan stops speaking as the memory of their nights together flashes back through his mind. His cheeks turn a bright scarlet at the memory. The nights he was only able to express how he felt through his actions. He could vividly remember how it felt to caress her soft skin as she held onto him for dear life. He could remember her whimpers and the way she'd hold back her moans. Blood rushed to his head as Felix snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Erhm--That aside, Your Grace. If Lady Y/N is not safe even in her familial home, we may have to exert our authority and bring her here sooner." Felix reluctantly suggests. "She'd rather die...That is what she would say I believe...." Chan murmurs. "Your Grace?" Felix questions as he looks at the young future duke's distressed expression. Chan's heart felt heavy if his beloved had to live through a heavy hand and torturous life with her family too; he felt as if his world completely shattered. He should have paid closer attention after they had gotten married. He should have realized the way she always flinched when someone moved too quickly next to her in their previous life. He wished he could kick himself in the throat for the way he treated the woman he loved so deeply. There were only so many times he felt he could brush off his behavior as 'protecting Y/N from his sister' and he knew that. He became a horrible tyrant and treated Y/N as if she were a doll. She deserved more, He knew he could have done better. He should have been better.

Though his heart ached terribly, he could understand why. Her words as she lay dying in front of him repeating through his mind. If I could do it all over again…I'd have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…He couldn't understand, did Felix's magic not work properly. She wasn't supposed to reject marrying him, if anything she should be ecstatic at the idea of him moving their wedding up. "Your Grace?" Felix questions as he places his hand on Chan's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Apologies, what did you say?"

"Why would Y/N say she'd rather die than come here sooner? Your meeting with her is supposed to be in two days" Felix asks puzzledly. "She requests I annual our engagement..." Chan states dejectedly. Felix looks at him befuddled "That's impossible...." His aide states under his breath. Felix quickly turns away from Chan rushing deeper into the Manor. Chan's eyes widen as he follows behind his aide, He follows Felix toward the Staff's quarters and into the basement where Felix's lab sits. He quickly pulls a large box from a bookshelf and places it on his desk. Letting let out a shaky breath, Felix brought his index and middle to his lips, his eyes closing and soon the box glowed a bright sapphire blue, the top of the box opened and there sat a large glowing purple orb. "Ae-ra...." Felix grits as he clenches his fist. As he grips the side of his desk "That sneaky minx..."

"What? What happened?" Chan questions in confusion. Felix sighs "Ae-ra lied. She said she wouldn't tamper with Lady Y/N's memories, but her magic signature is here." Chan's heart sinks, "No...you said that this would be--Well, My wife seems to have me evenly matched" Felix cuts him off frustratedly. Chan notices the familiar jealousy, from the pair's relationship over the years. The two personal aides are the only connection between Chan and his wife. Chan was not surprised that their petty rivalry soon turned into love and then marriage. It was not a secret that Ae-ra was opposed to Felix turning back time with only the three memories intact. Chan couldn't argue with Y/N's closest confidant at the time. Ae-ra had been there for his beloved when he couldn't, of course, she'd find it wrong to not allow her Lady to have free will and knowledge of her fate.

*First Timeline- Y/N's Death....*

"Please! " Ae-ra cried her eyes widening as Y/N's head rested on her lap. Chan couldn't believe what happened. He sat frozen in shock and despair as Ae-ra continued to shout "Do something!" Her panicked and coarse screams pull Chan out of his daze. He lifted himself from the couch and dropped to his knees, his hands wrapping around his beloved as he lifted her from her maid's lap and held her tight. She stared up at him her eyes almost completely lifeless, "Y/N?!" He calls his voice trembling as he hears a small croak from her lips. He leans in to her trying to listen for any more signs of life. His eyes widen as he feels her torso tighten for a moment before he feels a warm liquid on his cheek. Ae-ra stares at him wide-eyed, their eyes connect for a moment before Ae-ra extends her handkerchief to him before she lifts herself from the floor and rushes out of the room toward the knights "Someone help me please?!" she screams as she disappears.

Chan can feel the eyes of the maids on him as he holds Y/n's lifeless body against him. His eyes darken as he looks at his staff "Why are you just sitting there?!" He growls. Felix's deep voice booms as he orders the maids to clean and find a doctor for the Dutchess. Chan sat frozen as he held Y/N close to him. Tears build in his eyes as he silently pleads to Y/N. Please…I'm begging you, Open your eyes! His body aches as his regrets fill him. "Felix, Get the maid that did this. I don't see her" Chan demands in a panic. Felix nods with a serious expression, and with a snap of his fingers, he disappears leaving a trail of blue smoke in his wake. Chan didn't expect any of this when he returned home. He pleaded with God to make him wake up from this horrible dream. It felt like hours before Ae-ra returned and Chan was forcibly taken away to be cleaned and have Y/N treated. But he knew...though he wanted to deny it. His beloved was gone, She died believing he didn't love her.....

That he wished she was gone.......

He cried harshly as he sat outside of Y/N's room. The doctor was pale as he explained that Y/N was no longer alive. Chan felt like he couldn't breathe, How could this be? How could God be this cruel? I was so close, so close to having her protection guaranteed. I was so close to fixing everything and spending the rest of my life making up for my mistakes. How could she just be gone? Why didn't he just stay with her? He quickly rushed into the room, shouting for the staff to leave. His eyes were bloodshot and his face stained with tears as he rushed beside her body. If he didn't know any better, he'd believe she was just sleeping. His hand hesitantly reached out for hers, grasping it for dear life. His sobs leave him trembling as he feels his legs turn to jelly before he drops to his knees. His free hand caresses her head as he cries.

"I-I'm so sorry....." His voice is trembling as his grip grows tighter on her hand "Honey....I'm sorry. P-Please....w-wake up...Honey...I was wrong. I did wrong and I'm so sorry so please--just open your eyes. Y-you can scold me for being mean l-like w-when we were kids....I-I deserve it. I was so mean for so long so please just scold me or hit me or something, please. Please tell me I'm not too late. Honey, j-just s-say my name one more time? P-please? Y-you c-can't j-just leave me behind without doing that right? Please j-just open your eyes and say C-Channie....Y/N..."

Ae-ra felt empty as she tried to maintain her professionalism. She stood beside her mistress with a heavy heart. Mentally, she was in almost as much denial as the Duke. She held herself together with the thought that her mistress was just asleep, but she knew the truth. No matter how much healing magic or potions she used, Her Grace was not waking up from this slumber. She knew, there were going to be questions. Eyes were going to be on her, she was the closest person to the Dutchess. The only person with unlimited access, she was lucky to not have been hauled off the moment the doctor had declared her mistress passing. She struggled to hold back tears as the Duke cried over his lost love. Her heart ached for the couple, knowing how hard their circumstances and the Duke's negligence had been for her lady. Ae-ra feels she could make peace if the Duke suffers for the rest of his days. Though she knew it was wrong, She wished the Duke to endure the suffering her mistress had been through in the 10 years of their marriage, She hoped he would die feeling alone and unloved, just like her mistress. These things that could never be voiced out loud, Ae-ra held her breath and tears hoping time would pass quickly and she would be dismissed to her room shortly. Feeling her emotions boiling over, she sighs hopelessly.

Chan's head perks up at the sound of someone sighing. He notices Y/N's maid, Ae-ra, standing on the other side of the bed. He stares at the maid with sad guilt-ridden eyes. A mournful pout on his lips as he looks at Ae-ra feeling remorseful as he notices her struggling to hold herself together. "Ae-ra...." He sighs, and the maid stares at him with worried eyes. "Y-Your Grace, Do you need something?" She asks trying to mask her grief.

"Y/N loved you," Chan states his voice soft and comforting. "You shouldn't be here right now. You should rest." Ae-ra shakes her head rapidly. "I-I will be beside Her Grace until her body is with god as well....I-if that is permitted, Your Grace." She states hesitantly. "A-and I need to be near for the investigation" Chan furrows his eyebrows. "Investigation?"

Ae-ra nods nervously "Yes, Your Grace..."

"Into you?"

"Yes, Your Grace"

"Ae-ra, You were the Dutchess' closest aide. You cared for her passionately and worked hard under her. You are the last person I would investigate in this matter. Go rest, Y/N would want you to rest." He states sullenly. Ae-ra stares at the Duke with a glum expression. "Your Grace?" Chan looks at the maid with a grief-stricken pout. "Her Grace had requested me not to inform you but considering....The Young Lady of the Manor has requested for the knights to refrain from attending their posts here at the annex. Perhaps whoever had done this knew about the minimal security." Ae-ra suggested her voice just above a whisper, hoping the Duke understood her intention and turned his attention toward his sister. "Kari will be dealt with if that's what you're concerning yourself with," Chan states darkly as his eyes glaze over with murderous intent. Ae-ra nods, not saying anything else as she bows to her employer before exiting the room. As she closes the door behind her, tears build in her eyes as she loses feeling in her legs and collapses to the ground in a puddle of tears.

*First Timeline- One Week After Y/N's Death*

"If I could do it all over again…I'd have never married you. My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…"

Those words have replayed in Chan's mind for hours now. The way her voice gurgled as she choked on her blood. He felt sick as he remembered her voice in her final moments. Why did he have to be here? Who was brave enough to help Kari go through with this? His mind raced as his heart ached uncontrollably. "My biggest regret was walking down that aisle…" He hated to admit it, but under those circumstances, he regretted it too. He wasn't the husband he should have been. He was negligent, he should have done more. He should have realized the fear she had to have had with how ruthless his sister could be. He never expected this though.

The reality of her absence is already becoming too much to bear. He couldn't understand what happened. How could she have been poisoned? He had been right there, staring at her. He was looking at her, he should have noticed the way she coughed. How hard it was for her to speak after she had drank her tea. When the blood flowed out of her mouth, he couldn't move due to his shock. Not even 10 minutes with her and now there's no more time. She's gone.....How could she be gone?

He hears a small panicked yelp as the door slams open forcefully, Chan's eyes finally leaving his beloved's portrait. He sees Felix standing there, his face stoic as the maid that had given Y/N her tea kneeled with her back to his aide as Felix's hand grips her hair harshly. "This is the rodent that has caused the commotion today" Felix states coldly, Chan lifts him from the ground as he stares at the maid. Her face is so prominently familiar in his mind, that he can't help but let out a mad laugh at the nerve of his temperamental sister. He takes slow predatory steps toward the maid, who looks up at him with fearful eyes. Felix's blood boils at her impertinence "You dare raise your head with all you've done!?" A bright sapphire light emanates from the mage as he forces the maid to the ground with a snap of his fingers, metal cuffs encase the maid's hands and ankles; pinning her to the ground. The maid trembles fearfully "Y-Your G-Grace, H-Have mercy...." she pleads tearfully as Felix snaps his fingers again and a large sapphire chain erupts from the ground encasing the maid's neck.

"Mercy!?" Felix growls as the chains begin to slowly tighten around the woman's neck. Chan chuckles darkly as he leans forward gripping the maid by her bun in the back of her head pulling her closer as he stares into her eyes. His eyes glow a bright scarlet "Did you grant Y/N such a courtesy?"

The maid gasps not expecting the question. "I-I....uhm"

"Fine. Tell me who ordered you to give the tea to the Dutchess?" Chan questions "If it proves to be useful, I shall grant mercy" The maid's eyes widen, the cogs in her head turning. Chan knows no matter her tenure as Kari's aide for all these years, the life of this commoner mattered more to her than her loyalties to his sister. "T-The h-head maid...S-she said the Lady had requested tea...Y-your Grace, I-I didn't know. Please, Your Grace, forgive me for this oversight" The brunette stammered. Felix and Chan's eyes connect for a moment, their silent communication clear. Chan nods to the mage, who releases the maid's bonds. She breathes a sigh of relief, placing her forehead on the ground. A small chuckle is released from her throat as she looks up at Chan. "T-Thank you, Your Gr--" Her words are cut off as Chan plunges a dagger through her throat. The maid gags as she stares at Chan wide-eyed. Blood fills her mouth as she begins gagging and breathing in her blood. Her pleads are covered by gurgles.

"Now you know, such oversites cannot be forgiven.....Dog." Chan states coldly as he twists the dagger roughly and kicks her off the blade by her shoulder. Felix stares at the body with dark cold eyes. "Lady Kari seems to have been taking advantage of your absence, Your Grace. Shall I finish this?" Felix questions gesturing toward the maid who was gurgling and gasping for air on the ground. His eyes glowed a bright sapphire.

"Did the Dutchess have such mercy?" Chan questions darkly as he takes one of Y/N's handkerchiefs from his lapel wiping the blood from his hands as he kneels over the maid. "They deserve to know the suffering they put my wife through until her final moments" Chan states. Felix smirks darkly at his master before nodding and walking toward the door.

"Wait," Chan calls as he stares at the maid continue to gurgle and gag, her body trembling as she struggles to breathe due to the blood continuously going into her windpipe. Felix halts his movements turning toward Chan. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"When harm is done to one's pet, it is proper etiquette to return the corpse and inform the owner, yes?" Chan states with a mischievous smirk as he walks toward the window he notices his sister sitting in the garden, her maids beside her as they enjoy tea. "And Kari seems so possessive of those dogs of hers. It would only be right" He finishes as he clenches his fist. Felix nods in understanding before he pulls a seal out from his inline pocket and places it on the dying maid's body, lifting his index and middle finger in front of his lips he closes his eyes as the sapphire light glows brightly and the pair disappear.

Chan feels his blood boiling as he watches his sister laughing with her parasitic friends. How dare she?! He knew his sister's temper could be considered tyrannical. She rarely allowed even her closest maids to make a mistake, yet Chan thought as long as he could keep a distance from Y/N, she'd be safe from his sister's wrath at not becoming the heir. A smirk formed on his lips as Felix's blue sapphire light shined over the table and Kari's personal maid's corpse lay in the middle of it. The noble women begin panicking scurrying away from the blood-soaked table like roaches, their fearful screams echoing through the garden. But Chan kept his eyes firmly on Kari, who sat bewildered at the head of the table as Felix politely bowed to her and transported away after a brief exchange. He watched as Kari glared at the corpse in utter shock and disbelief. Knowing his actions ignited a fire in Kari, Chan felt thrilled.

"Well, sister, you wanted to be the Dutchess so bad.....I'll be sure you know exactly how My Dutchess felt."

Flashback: One month after Y/N's Death

“Let me go! Do you not know your place?!” Kari growled as Felix continued to stand stone-faced. He sighed before continuing to bring Kari to his Master's office. Kari fumes as she continues to struggle with her hands tied behind her back with Felix's magic. Felix opens the door, Chan's seated at the center of the room. Aera stood beside him, placing a cup of tea in front of him. "Unhand me!" Kari growls as Felix sits her in front of Chan's desk. "What is the meaning of this?" Kari snaps at her brother. Chan gestures for Felix to release Kari's hands.

"My apologies, my dear sister but You have been refusing to see me for a long time" Chan states with a faux sincerity. "I had to take such measures to see my precious sister, it's made me wonder" His eyes darken as he stares at the brunette. "Have you been avoiding me? One would think, you've done something wrong....." He raises his eyebrow in amusement.

Kari stares at him blankly "I've chosen to undertake a vow of silence.." She states as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Shall I send a letter to the convent then?" Chan retorts smugly. Aera places a cup of tea in front of Kari. "I must thank you for your concern but please graciously accept my apologies... I'm in mourning I've lost two dear maids of mine" Kari smirks as she watches Aera closely.

Chan notices the subtly purple aura growing around the maid, and he taps on his desk twice, a signal to Aera to stand down. Kari stares daggers at the maid. Mumbling something inaudible under her breath; Kari stares down at the cup, her nerves slightly making her hands tremble. Chan knew, his sister's fear of retaliation made her guilt evident. Kari sighs before taking a hesitant sip. It was her! She was the mastermind, there was no doubt in his mind that the sister he held so dear through the years, had murdered the woman that he loved. His blood ran cold at his sister's nonchalance, he knew she had a brother complex and she felt a form of jealousy when she noticed his closeness to his fiance. How he wished he had chosen Y/N, and realized Kari's tyranny sooner. How could he let 10 years go by without taking his beloved in his arms a single time and telling her how much he loved her? and now, because of the girl in front of him vying for his position as the head of the family, Y/N was gone.

Chan had Aera and Felix preserve her body for as long as they could, but their magic was fading, and Y/N had begun to decay in her bed. He was at his wit's end, though the foolish maid had been dealt with, no commoner would make such a brazen move in front of a Duke without the backing of a powerful noble. The head maid had escaped the Dutchy before Chan could reach her as well, His frustration grew as time passed and he was unable to punish those he deemed responsible for his wife's mistreatment and subsequent death. Though he knew who was the true one responsible...It was his fault. His lack of awareness of his sister's brazen and bold temperament, his choice to spend more time at war and on expeditions, pushing her away.

He was the one truly responsible for his beloved's death. Though Kari was the one who signed her death warrant, He's the reason Kari did not know her place. Why her ambitions went further than they should have. But the longer he stared at her smug smirk as she crossed her arms and glared at him; the more he could feel his hand slowly inching toward his sword sitting on his hip. "Why did you have this brutish mage bring me here? I am supposed to go to the imperial palace the second princess is hosting the book club." Kari whines a small pout on her innocent-looking face.

"Nightshade is quite the flower isn't it?" Chan questions softly.

Kari looks at him with confusion "You've brought me here to discuss flowers? Brother, shall I have someone retrieve the doctor?" Chan smirks mischievously as his eyes darken "Did you forget who was your instructor on poisons? You seem to be quite proud to boast about your garden with many flowers to your friends, belladonna being your favorite correct? Y/N was killed by such a plant..." he states monotonously he pulls his sword from its holster pointing it directly at Kari's neck with a small flick of his wrist a small cut forms in the center.

"B-brother, The dutchess crossed the line too many times to be forgiven. she was weak, she was not fit to be by your side, but I would n-never!" Kari stammered in utter shock. Chan scanned his sister up and down for a moment, he knew she was lying. He knows it is her, but he has no evidence at this moment. The Crown Princess may support him, but not for unjustifiable homicide. Resisting the urge to swiftly remove Kari's head from her shoulders, he brings his sword back into its holster. He stares at Kari menacingly "If I learn otherwise...You will become permanently acquainted with my sword."

With her eyes wide and pleading Kari stares up at him "You jest..." she states in disbelief as her heart sinks into her stomach. "I do not....Orchestrating the murder of the Dutchess is punishable by death by order of the Emperor, as his most loyal vassal and valent knight I must hold his word true." He challenges her as he takes her chin between his forefinger and thumb. "I look forward to the day you admonish yourself, sister" He states the relationship almost like a taunt as he stands above her, a smug smirk on his lips as he grows giddy at the thought of plunging his dagger right into her petite throat. He finds the strength in him to hold back, lest he massacre the whole Manor.

Kari looks furious at his words "Does the crown mean more to you than your blood, brother? The Dutchy stood long before this Emperor's reign and shall stand tall long after his line is gone, his word is no more than a mere fallacy."

"You will do your best to mind your tongue...That is the ruler of this Empire and I will not be considered treasonous due to your insolence! And just remember, sister, that it is that very blood that courses through your veins that protects you from my sword at this moment" He snaps at her. Kari stares at him her anger evident in her expression as she straightens her back. "And you will do your best to remember I am not one to be challenged" Her voice laced with a warning "The most beautiful things in this world are also the most lethal, for it is their beauty that lulls you into a sense of security, Brother" her eyebrow raised as Chan feels his gut bubble in amusement as he imagines himself running his dagger over his sister's cheek and removing that beauty she spoke of.

"What is a beauty without their embellishments?" He questions as he rests on his chin. "Many in this world learn too late, their place. I should surely hope with the way you've been raised, it will not be too late when you learn yours. For what are you without the Bang family name but a pretty face? I hope for your friend's sake you do not forget this fact." He states as he raises his eyebrow challenging her to speak against him. When she sits quietly he continues his anger growing as each word spews from his lips " You are well past the age for you to have been married. You do not spend your days like a proper noblewoman yet speak like your place is anywhere but at the convent...You wished to be the heir yet never married and birthed an heir to the family line. You spend your days drinking tea as you gossip with your friends, and you have the gall to discuss our Emperor? Sister, I've protected you and sacrificed everything I had for you but you refuse to become anything but a disappointment. I should surely hope a month in the rose annex shall help you understand your wrongdoings......"

"No!" Kari argues as knights make their way over to her. "You cannot do this to me! I've done nothing wrong." Her face was red with rage as she tried to avoid the knights' grasp but she could not fight against their strength and speed.

"You will regret this!" Kari exclaims as she is dragged out of the office with a flurry of curses. Chan lets out a heavy sigh as silence falls over the room. He reaches for a small cup on his desk, slightly tilting it to its side he pulls out Y/N's wedding ring. Staring at the object his heart breaks once again. How could he have lost her? How could he go on without her? He feels his breathing grow heavier. He needed to return to her. He hated every moment he had to step out of that room. He felt like he couldn't breathe if he wasn't by her side. He couldn't understand how terribly it ached every time he crossed that threshold.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, pulling him from sinking deeper and deeper into despair. His eyes trail up the petite hand and he sees Aera's comforting yet grieving smile beaming back at him and a small purple glow emanates from her hand. A warmth fills his body and he feels his heart relax. "Thank you, Aera. Truly you have been a wonderful help" He gives her a gentle nod, signaling that he's okay.

"It is my duty, My lord" Aera states formally as she bows.

"Your husband being a stickler about the rules again?" Chan jokes to her trying to lighten the mood and Aera nods in response. "Behave the way you did with the Dutchess, if she acknowledged your competence then your husband should too. You are doing his work for him...." Aera nods as she bows. "I shall bring you tea in the Dutchess' room, Your Grace."

Chan gives her a soft smile "That sounds wonderful"

*Flashback-Later that day*

Aera walked calmly toward the Dutchess room in the Main House. She felt her heartache as she knew Y/N never got to experience what her husband truly wished for her. Her heartbroken for the Duke, so much so that she used her magic to delay Her Grace's decomposition for at least a year after she had tried to heal her and it had come to light that The Dutchess' body could be preserved. The Duke had gone mad and spent his days laying and reading to her corpse. She felt sorry for the Dutchess, she may never be fully rested, and pity for the Duke who loved his wife so dearly that he could not part with her after he had finally secured his position as the Duke and could no longer be challenged as the head of the Dutchy.

Aera approached the large double doors and gestured for the Knight to knock when she heard familiar voices. "Your Grace, It will not fail. We can save her...I can save her" Her husband's voice rang out. Aera's heart sunk into her chest. That fool she thinks to herself as she gestures for the knight to open the door. "What do you think you are saying, Felix?" Aera questions worriedly as she places the tray with the teapot on the small table in front of the Duke. "You are not suggesting that spell to His Grace correct?" Aera raises her eyebrow at her husband, "I can do it! she will not be harmed..." Felix argues.

"And what of her memories? The spell is not perfect and if you are going to turn back time then you need to allow her to remember what has happened to her!" Aera counters and Chan holds his hand up "Silence...." The pair turn toward the Duke and bow apologetically. Chan sighs "Felix will do the spell."

"Turning time back does not mean she will be safe, Your Grace. This can save her for a short while. The gods will not take this chance to save one life without another when the time comes" Felix warns.

"Then it shall be my own life or my sister's life as long as my wife gets to live the gods can burn the Dutchy with an inferno so bright that they form hell on earth. But Y/N lives...." He states definitively. Aera's face scrunched in opposition. "The Dutchess deserves her memories, do not deceive her. My loyalty shall only go far, Your Grace." She states coldly. "My Love....please, the memory of her own death may be too much to bear" Felix pleads as he caresses her cheek. "I just wish to give you, your purpose back. Your life, Her life....allow me to do this and help her be happy"

Aera looks away from him for a moment before reluctantly nodding.

*Present-2nd Timeline*

"What does this mean?" Chan questions worriedly as he grasps Felix's shoulders. Felix puts his hands up, trying to calm Chan down but knowing that Y/N having her memories is the last thing the Duke wanted. "Y-Your Grace...." Felix stammers nervously trying to find the easiest way to give him this news. Realization dawns on him, he feels his blood run cold as he stumbles back into a chair. His forehead rests on his palm as he lays his hand on the potion bench. "She has her memories...." He scoffs out in disbelief, as her behavior slowly becomes more and more understandable.

How could she want to marry the man who ignored her in her previous life? The man she believed was responsible for her death...

His chest ached as he felt his stomach bubble with nausea. She despises him...He was such a fool. The gods had to punish him for what he had done to her. Though it was Aera's interference and morality, He knew this was the way the gods were telling him that he needed to let Y/N go. His family had tortured her enough in their previous life when he was fighting to keep Kari's influence at bay, he used her for his own desires when it was convenient for himself, and He allowed Kari to grab hold of the Dutchy while he was away which ultimately lead to her death but how could he just let her go?

How could he give in to her wishes and call off their engagement? The notion seemed so foreign to him, removing her from his heart. He'd yearned for her for over 10 years in their previous life and hoped for a lover relationship in this one. What should he do to keep her at his side after all he's done just to bring her back to life? Over two months of collecting ingredients and brewing potions to keep his memories and Aera does it to Y/N with a wave of her hand. What more could be done?

His eyes darken as he continues to fall deeper and deeper into turmoil. He feels his anger slowly turning into possessive madness as he continues to allow his mind to wander. His title as the future Duke could be used. He tried to rack his brain to think of something--anything to keep her by his side. Moving the wedding up and locking her away seemed to be growing more and more appealing. How radiant she would look whilst locked in the very room he'd spent with her before he turned back time. Perhaps, he should relinquish his title and take her to the countryside estate and live out their days in secrecy. He felt himself growing less and less concerned with how she'd feel. How much she'd oppose being kept in a cage like a bird under his watchful eye. But what else could he do? Even if she grew to hate him.

"I'd never let you go, Y/N"

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