#actual factual princess

[thesweetpianowritingdownmylife]

I bought the book on a trip and then read it on a bus, before I had internet on my phone, so I was very confused until I got home (9hours later or smth) and could google some things. I was mad that I bought the abridged version rather than the original, bc I was leaving that city and I wouldn't be able to return it lmao

The Princess Bride is such a funny book to read after ONLY seeing the movie. Like Goldman made up a fake author from a fake country and proceeded to write the book as an abridged version of what the fake author wrote... and then he proceeds to add in notes to the "abridged version" mentioning all the boring world building stuff he skipped because it was boring.

Like shout out to William Goldman, man really did make an entire book that is just "the cool scenes you thought of in your head" and then made up a fake author to abridge so he doesn't have to connect them.

And it slaps

[changbunnies]

Danse Macabre (18+)

♡ Pairing: Rich Serial Killer!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: loosely house on haunted hill inspired, vaguely 1950s au, horror themes, dark romance, smut, dead dove? read the warnings carefully and come to ur own conclusion on what you're willing to read before engaging pls :')

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: The handsomely wealthy Christopher Bang and his wife are holding an overnight party at the house on Haunted Hill, and the rules are simple– stay the entire night, and $100,000 is their guest's to take; but little do the guests know that their hosts don't intend to let them leave.

♡ General Warnings: this is a serial killer au! do not read if you aren't prepared to read about death + murder + blood + injury! (i personally think i kept the descriptions tame and mild but everyone has different opinions so just use ur discretion and don't interact if you think you may be bothered by anything listed !), chan is referred to as chris, reader is very complicit in his crimes, they're a sick and twisted couple i fear!

♡ Smut Warnings: hybristophilia (i.e chan being a killer turns reader on), smut begins with chan talking about killing reader (intended to be strictly roleplay because he knows it excites them, but ur free to read it as him being serious if ur freaky like that lol), heavy usage of pet names (darling, my love, princess, sweetheart, dear), dom/sub dynamics, rough and a lil mean dom!chan, big dick chan because it's hot!, hair pulling, knife kink (but without a knife actually being used), corruption kink (not in the traditional way), tiny bit of nipple play, oral (m rec), facefucking, choking (on cock :) ), dacryphilia, manhandling, mirror sex, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: welcome to the first of my late kinktober fics ! this fic is loosely inspired by the opening scenes of the 1959 house on haunted hill movie, which is why the setting is vaguely 1950s!, this is the darkest fic i've tried my hand at writing, but i'm also a very big horror fan so writing this was very fun for me even tho it's not the genre i typically write for!

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

"Darling, the guests are arriving. You must get ready," your husband, Christopher, emphasizes as he steps into the master bedroom you'll be occupying for the evening.

You're sitting at the room's vanity, all of your hair pulled to one side as you finish drying it after your long, relaxing bath. The scent of lavender bath oil and citrus shampoo linger over you– scents brought with you from home because you absolutely refuse to use the luxurious room's complimentary soap; no offense intended to the housekeepers who provided it, of course.

You look sweet as ever in your dainty little pastel blue babydoll gown, your robe delicate and sheer, hanging down off your shoulder and bunching at your elbows. You glance at Chris through the vanity mirror as you begin to comb your hair and free it of any leftover tangles, meeting his gaze with a smile.

"What's the rush, my love? Is it not customary to be late to a party?" Chris chuckles as he steps closer, runs his hand over your shoulder and down your spine as he leans down to kiss the top of your head. "Normally I'd agree with you. But this is your party, princess. You should greet your guests."

He's right, of course– today is your birthday, and he booked the entire mansion, as well as invited all the guests, at your behest. Christopher is the old money sort– a millionaire from a long line of millionaires before him. And because of that, your party comes with a fun gimmick– survive a night in the haunted mansion, and earn an easy hundred thousand dollars.

Assuming each guest successfully lasts until dawn, that's $700,000 for your husband to pay out– but that's no worry! That's still only chump change to a man as wealthy as Chris– and besides all that, no one's going to last until morning anyways; you're certain of that.

Naturally, as having a haunted house party was your idea, the venue was your choice– and the eerie mansion that sits lonesome upon Haunted Hill was the perfect pick. You've always found it strikingly beautiful from the outside, dreamed of one day stepping inside and drinking in all its Victorian charm.

It's certainly lived up to your expectations– and you're sure Chris will buy it for you if you express to him just how much you adore it; he'd buy you the entire world if you asked him to. For now, it's good enough that he rented it out for your sinister party.

You doubt the mansion is actually haunted– you don't put much stock in the stories of ghosts and ghouls that gave this hill its nickname; but it's a fun little tale, and you don't mind playing into it for the sake of a fun time. And it certainly helps make your party's tag line of "survive the night!" more inconspicuous.

"They're all strangers, sweetheart– I don't think they'll mind if I'm a little late," you tell him with a coy little smile as you set your comb back down on the vanity, satisfied with the condition of your freshly washed hair. He returns your smile with a mischievous one of his own, an amused glint in his eye.

"And remind me, darling, why it is that we've rented this house and invited a bunch of strangers to your party," Chris says as he leans down further, his breath fanning your ear. You giggle, almost innocently– though both of you know you're more than just complicit in his endeavors; you actively fuel them, his sadistic princess.

"You know why, my love," you reply, and to anyone else your smile would seem pure, almost angelic– but Christopher knows better. He knows that his kills excite you– perhaps even more than they excite him. He grabs a fist full of your freshly tamed hair, grins at the gasp you let out when he pulls your head back.

"And this is really what you want for your birthday? To see me stick my knife into someone's neck? To have me return to this room covered head to toe in their blood?" he questions as he looms over you now, but the answer is clear as it always is. He sees the way your thighs squeeze together, sees how the desire darkens your eyes– you’re sick; but that’s what he loves most about you.

"I could kill you too, you know. Take my knife right along your skin, just like this," he says as he runs a finger over one side of your neck to the other, gentle but purposeful in demonstration. Your breath hitches as you squirm in your seat, unable to turn your eyes away from him as he tightens the grip on your hair.

"But you wouldn't," you breathe, and Chris smiles, sweet and sinister as his eyes narrow at you, just how you like it. "Are you certain, dear? Do you think me incapable?" 

"I think you love me, as I love you," you answer, eyes starting to water from the sting of his tug on your scalp. "I love that you trust me," he replies as he trails his finger down, over your collarbones and to your chest. His fingers play with the dainty lace of your gown for just a moment before he slides his hand inside, cupping your breast in his large palm.

"I bet you wouldn't even bat a lid if I touched you with my knife here," he continues as he brushes his thumb over your hardening nipple, "you'd actually like it, wouldn't you, my love? Feeling the cold steel here, knowing I could easily cut you if I wanted to?" You whine, try to nod your head though his grip prevents it– all you can do is answer with a meek "yes" instead. 

"Speak up, darling. I'm afraid I couldn't hear you," he says with an expectant look that sends a shiver down your spine. Chris indulges your every desire, gives you everything in the world you want– so in the moments like these, in which when he asks something of you, you listen.

"Yes! I'd like it!" you answer, as loud and clear as you can bring your voice to be. Chris smiles, the sweet one he always gives you when you listen to him well, with his handsome dimples on display– a stark contrast from the darkness in his gaze. He releases his grip on your hair, cups your face and rubs his thumb over your cheek as he kisses you, greedy and deep. 

You always manage to get him hot; all it takes is a few simple words and that sweet gaze of yours to get him worked up– always the picture perfect image of innocence, pretty smiles and soft gazes that hide the depravity lingering beneath. So coy and demure, batting your lashes and acting like you don’t know at all what he does in the dead of night, acting like it doesn’t make your stomach twist– not with fear, but with desire.

Chris always sees through your act– he knows you. But he won’t pretend he doesn’t like it– the fun little game you share, where you gasp in faux surprise when he enters the room drenched in a new victim's blood, where your voice trembles and eyes well with tears when he grabs you hard, kisses you deep as the blood coating him transfers to your skin, sharing it with you.

And your answer now– whether it’s part of the game, or you truly would like feeling his knife cutting your pristine, unsullied skin, it doesn’t matter. He meant it when he said he loves that you trust him; and he loves that you wanted this. That all you wanted for your birthday was this party– to see him at his most unleashed, to indulge in the most sinful fun you could share as a couple. 

You never say what he is out loud– don’t call him a monster, a murderer, or a killer. You always dance around it, play innocent, though it’s obvious enough that you know the truth; and that’s more than enough for Chris. In fact, he prefers it this way; he likes to pretend he’s ruining your innocence, likes to pretend he’s a corrupting influence in your pure, perfect world, likes to pretend he’s ruining you.

Maybe in a way, he is– maybe you were a good girl before you found out his secret, maybe catching him in the act changed you, and maybe he’s dragging you down to hell with him by sharing this part of his life with you. Regardless, he loves what you have together– and he’ll keep playing this dangerous game with you, even if it ends in both your demise.

You melt into his kiss, as you always do– his lips, so plump and soft, always feel so perfect when they’re pressed against yours. You open your mouth for him the moment you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and he hums pleasantly as he slips his tongue in your mouth. It’s not the most slow or sensual kiss you’ve ever shared– rather, it’s needy, passionate and urgent.

Chris smiles at you again when he pulls away, enjoying the sparkle beholden in your eyes as you stare up at him. “Open your mouth for me, darling,” he says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You do as instructed, the obedient thing you are for him, and he grins as he sticks his thumb inside your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it after he rests it against your tongue. “Oh, my love– you already knew what to do, didn’t you? Always know just what I want, yeah?” You hum as you nod, staring up at him oh so enticing and pretty. “You’ll suck my cock just like that, won’t you?” he continues, biting his lip to suppress a laugh when you eagerly nod and hum once more.

He removes his thumb from your mouth with a pop, hurries with undoing his belt and pulling his cock out of his trousers. His cock is mesmerizing, as always– so long and thick, with pretty veins and a leaking tip; but you aren’t given any time to idly sit and admire it. He wraps your hair around his fist, forces you to take his cock in your mouth all at once.

You choke and sputter as his cock presses against the back of your throat, your nose meeting his pubic bone in a flash, the neatly trimmed hair there tickling your skin. You can’t pull your head back with his grip forcing you down– but you wouldn’t dream of trying anyways; this is what he wants, and he'll have it.

Eyes watering, you do your best to relax your jaw and throat, to suck him just the way he likes, with your tongue massaging his veins. It’s a struggle to breathe through your nose, unprepared for his cock as you were– and it’s not until your eyes are dimming and head is swimming from the lack of oxygen that he pulls you back to let you take a breath.

It’s harsh, lungs positively burning as you take deep, heaving breaths. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Was that too much for you?” he asks, but his tone lacks its usual sincerity. “Chris–” you cry his name weakly after taking another breath, a few of the stray tears lingering on your lids finally spilling over as you blink. 

“My dear,” he cuts you off, forcing his cock past your lips once more, using the leverage of his grip on your hair to once again push your head down on him, making you take his length into your mouth until you choke on it.

“You weren’t going to complain, were you? No, I know you wouldn’t do that,” he says, voice wavering ever so slightly, breathier from the pleasure your mouth gives him. “Because I give you everything you want. Everything I do is for you– so you’ll let me use you, yeah?”

He’s right again, of course– you wouldn’t dream of complaining, of depriving him of what he wants from you. And you both know this is far from the limit of what you can take, but as with everything else, he likes when you pretend for him. When you cry and weakly try to protest, half hearted utterances of “too much!” or “I can't!” as tears roll down your cheeks– an act that always leaves him throbbing.

And Chris is good to you, always puts the entire world in the palm of your hands– so just as he says, you’ll thank him by letting him use you however he wants. You can’t nod your head, and any word you try to speak would be muffled and indecipherable– so you allow your jaw to go slack to show him you understand.

“Good, just like that,” he says as you lay your tongue flat, his praise a small kindness before he really lets loose. He easily controls your pace, yanks your hair back until only the tip of his cock remains in your mouth before shoving you back down to the base of it.

You try not to gag and choke, but most attempts go unsuccessful, more tears spilling from your eyes and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth with each full press of his length in your mouth. You can’t even feel the sting on your scalp anymore– all you can focus on is trying to breathe while he uses your mouth.

But all you can breathe is Chris, and he’s unforgiving in the way he moves you on his cock. You jaw quickly begins to ache, and every low groan that he releases is drowned out by the filthy sounds your mouth and throat create as you swallow around his cock.

He doesn’t let up until your vision darkens and blurs again, your nails digging into your own thighs as you try to hold out as long as possible. You gasp when he pulls you off his cock, heart pounding in your chest as the much needed air finally returns to your lungs.

You look up at Chris as he releases his grip on your hair, eyes lidded and hazy. He’s made a real mess of you– from the way his fingers have tousled your hair, to your freshly swollen lips, to the saliva that dripped down from your mouth to your chest. It’s pretty, really– so, so pretty; he almost wants to coo at you.

Instead, he strokes your cheek, offers you a look of faux sympathy– and you’re much too addled to realize he doesn’t mean it. You take the affection regardless of his intent, close your eyes and lean into his touch. You can hear him softly laugh, can easily imagine that smirk he must have on his face right now. 

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” Chris reminds you as he takes his hand away from your face. He grabs your arm, lifts you up from your chair and quickly turns you around, shoving everything resting on the vanity aside before he’s bending you over it. Your yelp of surprise is weak considering the abuse your throat just suffered, your hands lying flat as he presses you down against the hardwood. 

Your face smushes against the mirror, and how cold it is in contrast to how hot your face has become nearly makes you jolt. He shoves your panties to the side easily with his fingers, and you can hear him chuckle when you impatiently begin to squirm as he presses his cock against your dripping hole.

“Princess– stay still,” he says, and you can tell from his tone alone that it’s much more a demand than it is a request. You mutter a soft apology as you still your hips, and he waits a moment– waits to see if you’re going to move again before he acts. 

“Please,” you whine, make your desire to have his cock filling you up known, but ultimately don’t move. With a satisfied grin that you can just barely see on his face from your position against the mirror, he slowly, finally, starts to press his length inside your pussy.

He brings his hands to your hips, holds you as you begin to tremble from the feeling of his cock stretching you out. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just squeezes your hips in his hands as he starts to fuck you from behind. “Oh, Chris– fuck,” you gasp, though it quickly becomes a moan. 

His cock feels so deep in this position, and it has your eyes rolling back with each motion of his hips into yours. “You’re so fucking wet, fuck–” he groans, his hands gripping you harder as he finds his rhythm. “Squeezing so tight– feels good, huh, princess? You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

“Yes, love it! Love you, love your cock, feels so good–” You cry, high pitched whimpers leaving you now as you try to nod your head, though its position against the mirror doesn’t make it easy. Chris groans again before he moves a hand to your hand, threads his fingers through your hair again to pull you back against him.

You reach backwards to support yourself, one of your hands clinging to his shirt while the other holds him behind the neck. “Look at yourself, darling. Look,” he says against your ear, and you focus your eyes on the mirror. You look at Chris through it first, take in the sight of the sweat dripping down his temple and the clench in his jaw as he fucks you. 

Your eyes travel down, met with the sight of your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts, threatening to spill out of your babydoll gown. Lower still, you watch as he takes his other hand off your hip, slides it past the hem of your gown to find your clit with his fingers. “Want you to watch yourself cum. Don’t stop looking,” he tells you, and you whine– it won’t be easy, but you’ll listen; you always do. 

He lets go of your hair, and is quick to wrap his arm around your body so that you don’t fall too far forward. You’re so wet that his fingers quickly become slick, and it makes his touch lack friction as they slide messily over your clit, but the feeling is still so delicious that you can’t complain. 

It’s so hard to maintain eye contact with your reflection, hard to prevent your eyes from rolling back whenever he hits your spot with his cock while playing with your clit, but you keep doing your best for him. He can feel you clenching harder as you continue to watch yourself unravel, feels your nails starting to dig into where they hold his neck.

“C’mon, love– cum for me, you can do it sweetheart,” Chris urges you, his voice soft and low in your ear. “I will! ‘m gonna– gonna cum for you!” you cry; and though you’d been doing so well, you can’t help but let your eyes roll back and close as you finally let go and gush on his cock. If it were a different day, he might scold you for not keeping your eyes open like he told you to– but it is your birthday today, so he’ll let it pass just this once. 

He pushes you back down onto the vanity as you ride out the last of your orgasm, face once again smushing against the mirror as he grabs your hands and holds them behind your back at the wrists, fucks you rough and deep as he chases his own release. You whimper and tremble, unable to escape the sensitivity you feel, or able to grip anything to ground yourself– all you can do is take it. 

“Can’t! Chris, please– I can't, t-too much, too much!” your voice warbles as you cry, the pleasure you feel overwhelming. “Yes you can,” he says as you writhe helplessly in his grasp, your fingers clenching into desperate fists where he holds them against your back. “You can take it, I know you can.”

You’re going to cum again, you know it– he doesn’t even have to touch your clit again to get you there, because the tip of his cock is kissing your spot so good that you’re seeing stars. You’re panting hard, your every breath fogging the mirror, your nails digging into your palms as Chris’ name leaves you in desperate, broken syllables. 

It’s not until you’re finished cumming around him for a second time that his pace finally begins to falter– he lets go of your wrists, squeezes your hips in his hands and thrusts once, twice more before his own high takes him. You whine as you feel his cum spurt deep inside, hot and sticky, leaving you perfectly full.

Chris takes just a moment to steady his breathing before he’s slipping out of you, hurrying to reach to the ground for the tissue box he previously knocked off the vanity. He grabs a tissue, cleans between your legs as gently as he can, though you still end up flinching just a bit.

He then readjusts your panties so they rest on you properly again, and helps you settle back into the vanity’s chair. He kisses you after tucking his softening length back in his trousers, glances in the mirror to make sure nothing else about his appearance is out of place before he has to return to your party.

“Was it good?” you ask earnestly as you look up at him, and he smiles at you, stroking your head sweetly. “Of course, my darling. You’re perfect, as always,” he tells you, and you beam, turning your head to kiss his hand before he takes it away. He glances over at the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room, laughs in disbelief when he notes the time. 

“Gosh, it’s almost midnight– we really must hurry,” he says, and you giggle, truly without a care in the world that you’ve kept your guests waiting. You turn back to vanity, pout as you take in your appearance– you were too far gone from lust to really realize just how debauched Chris made you, but now you truly see just how much you have to fix. 

“Christopher! You’ve ruined me!” you complain before looking around the floor for your comb. “Apologies, princess,” he chuckles, leaning down to pick up your comb for you once you’ve spotted it. He hands it to you, but doesn’t completely release his grip to let you take it until after you kiss him in thanks.

“Now then– I’ve got to go entertain our guests. But hurry, won’t you, darling? I wouldn’t want to start the real fun without you,” Chris says as he rests his hand on the knob of the bedroom door, and you smile as you look at him through the mirror, making quick work of fixing your hair. 

“Of course, my love. I wouldn’t miss my party for the world,” you tell him; and despite what he said, it’s not long until you hear the first shrill scream of the night. Dressed in your prettiest red dress and heels, you peek your head out of the bedroom door– and Chris stands there, knife in hand with blood speckled over his face.

“Sorry darling, didn’t have a choice,” he explains, and you giggle as you fully step out of the room, carefully stepping over the blood that decorates the floor to kiss him before shooing him away to continue. Your birthday party has fully kicked off now– and it’ll certainly be one to remember.

[mariswxt]

wyoming

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

SUMMARY: DEAN AND SAM DIDN’T NEED HELP ON A CASE, RIGHT? IT WAS JUST SOME COVEN— BOBBY JUST HAD TO SAY THEY NEEDED A SPECIALIST. BUT THE RESULT AIN’T SO BAD, IF HE SAYS SO HIMSELF.

TW: HAPPY DEAN :)

NOW PLAYING:

• STARGAZING BY MYLES SMITH

• HEAT WAVES BY GLASS ANIMAL

• STEAL THE SHOW BY LAUV

FULL ALBUM

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

Stupid Bobby sending a stupid specialist.

“Dude. He’s literally trying to help.” Sam scoffed, looking up from his lore— did Dean say that aloud? Looks like it. Damn, that was really meant to be in his head. But yeah, he should probably be a little lot more respectful to Bobby considering he was only trying to help. Dean didn’t know why, he’d found himself haunted by your voice ever since that vamp case in Wyoming. Haunted by your voice, by you. You just seem to stick in his head, cause not everyone had called him princess.

Princess. Should he feel emasculated?

“I know.” A knock at the door sounded when a pen was wedged between his lips— yeah, that should be the witch specialist Bobby called. Was that even a thing, or did Bobby just whip up a fake job in the guise that he was being a helicopter dad?

Sorry, Bobby.

Sam opened the door, and in came a combat boot attached to a voice that had been rattling around in his head for way too long. “Heard you boys needed some help—” You stopped in your tracks upon seeing Dean sitting down at the table, pen between those pouty lips that you saw curving into a smirk not so way-back-when. “Princess.”

“Wyoming.” Dean retorted, pen dropping from his mouth as he stood up— his feet did that on their own. “Suddenly, I’m not so pissed.” A grin spread on his face, regarded by Sam with a weird look.

He looked between the two of you, a little weirded out by the familiar interaction. “Uh, am I missing something? Did you two hook up, cause I—I didn’t know—”

“Dude. It’s cool.” You chuckled, waving him off. No, you wouldn’t hook up with Dean, even if he was objectively and factually attractive. What? You were woman enough to admit when a guy’s attractive, it’s not hard. He’s attractive. Two words. “We didn’t hook up.”

“No, she helped me with the vamp scrape back in Wyoming a few months back.” Dean grinned— well, it was kinda standard to assume every girl who’s familiar with Dean that Sam doesn’t know was a past hookup. It really was.

“You mean I saved your ass, right?” You smirked, and shit you were still that one hell of a woman.

“You helped my ass, there’s a difference.” He rolled his eyes playfully, offering you a seat. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart again?”

“Bingo.”

“Ok, princess.” You sat down, and it felt like a warm blanket, hearing you say princess. Not as a figment of his imagination, but actually to his face.

Eh, somehow he felt that you were a kindred spirit. He was probably wrong.

Maybe.

• • • ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ • • •

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[blurrymind11]

The author, Sixer, twin brother,great uncle, its Ford Pines!

I never actually drew Gravity Falls art because i was still tracing while i was watching it as it came out

Heres my Ford headcanons if anyones interested! (Some might just be factual)

Was devastated when finding out Princess Diana died and was possibly a conspiracy

Has always been somewhat chubby, but looked skinnier after returning because he was malnourished and got chubby again after his family kept feeding him, hes happier now (i love the trope of characters gaining weight to symbolize healing)

He learnt to be more protective of the kids from Stan

He bonds with Mabel more after realizing he neglected her (mostly adventures and art)

Aroace (feels bad about fiddleford liking him and not being able to reciprocate that the way fiddleford would want, doesn’t feel bad about bill liking him he hopes he’s dead)

Found out he probably shouldn’t be new jersey style swearing around mabel, dipper and Soos from Stan

Is deathly afraid of smile dip

Is very emotionally unintelligent

[blade-dressed-in-red]

heart-shaped bandages

pairing: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: mentions of minor injury and blood, reader opens up about sensitive memories, but besides that just fluff!

word count: 2.5k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. While inspired by real individuals, the characters and events depicted are entirely fictional and should not be considered as factual representations of any real persons. This story is solely for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be taken as truth or to cause any harm or offense.

A/N: this idea came to me from realizing i’ve placed bandages on multiple people but have never gotten the same treatment, so here’s this very self-indulgent thing. this is also inspired by a cheeseburger soup recipe off pinterest.

It was nearing the end of the day. you could see the sun starting to set through the windows, golden light dripping onto the floor and furniture. You and Noah had a relaxed but productive day of curling up on the couch while the rottweiler you two adopted when she was a puppy, Princess, laid in her dog bed on the floor. You spent most of the day corresponding to work emails on your laptop while Noah did his own respective work on his. One of the collaborative playlists you two made together on spotify has been playing on the tv throughout the day. Your legs were draped over his lap, wearing (drowning in) one of his hoodies with sleep shorts and some fuzzy socks. Noah was sporting a similar getup, his own hoodie (that fit properly), black workout shorts, with some Naruto socks.

Once realizing it was starting to get closer to dinner time, you averted your attention away from your laptop to ask him

“Are you getting hungry, bub?”

Noah looked up from his laptop to answer you, his warm eyes meeting your gaze, framed with his glasses since he was looking at a screen all day. 

“A little bit, did you wanna order in or make something?” he asked with a soft smile.

You returned the smile before answering, “I think we have the ingredients to make that soup we like, do you want me to make that?”

His soft gaze perks up, “yeah, that actually sounds really good right now,” his smile grew wider. 

He's always enjoyed your cooking (even if you occasionally burnt the food). Sometimes you even let him help you out, but it usually results in a mini-food fight. Someone “accidentally” gets food on the other, resulting in random bits and pieces of discarded food getting thrown back and forth, ensued by fits of giggles and usually a pot of water boiling over since neither of you were paying attention.

While getting up from your spot on the couch, you assured Noah you didn’t need any help this time, both of you knowing he still had some more work to get done before calling it a day. He reminded you that if you needed anything, he was just a room away. While you always enjoy Noah's company, there is something comforting and tranquil about cooking by yourself, knowing that you’re making something tasty and healthy for your beloved in the next room over. 

Princess followed you into the kitchen, but soon realized her dog bed was more comfortable and made her way back into the living room. You began getting out all the ingredients and utensils needed, putting the broth into a pot to begin boiling on the stove. In the meantime you decided to start cutting the vegetables. Swiftly getting through the carrots and began cutting the celery. However, your attention was immediately drawn away when you heard commotion coming from the living room, followed by a chuckled “oh my god” and rummaging. Unfortunately your body didn’t have the time to react and continued chopping, resulting in you slicing your index finger on the knife. 

“Shit!” you yelped out through gritted teeth. you immediately dropped the knife on the counter to hold your finger in your other hand.

You realized Noah had stopped fixing whatever it was that caused the noise. He immediately rushed to be by your side, basically teleporting to you when he heard your wince. He was quickly followed in by Princess. 

“What happened?” he asked with his brows slightly furrowed and a look of worry in his eyes, immediately drawn to where you were holding your finger.

“It’s nothing, just a cut” 

You tried to ease him since you could tell he was getting more worried once he saw the blood seeping from the wound onto your hands. 

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding” he responded with a comforting tone but his concern still wavered through. He grabbed your finger to fully inspect the damage.

“It's really nothing bub, I'm just gonna go up to the bathroom to deal with it. I'll be right back.”

But before you could start making your way out of the kitchen, Noah softly grabs your hips to still you and grabs a clean dish rag from the drawer and gently but firmly holds your cut finger with it. You couldn’t form any verbal response to his action, as no one has ever really paid much attention when you accidentally hurt yourself in the recent past. the most prominent memory being when you’d scrape your knee on the cement as a child and your mom would put a Scooby Doo bandaid on it and seal it with a kiss. It also reminded you that you’ve always tried to help others whenever they got an injury, no matter how old they were or how minor the wound was.

While holding your finger with firm pressure to help stop the bleeding, Noah noticed your expression went blank. He pondered on asking you about it, but figured he would bring it up later and continue with the task at hand: fixing you up. 

Noah adjusted his stance from slightly bending to normal height, he places your free hand to hold your wounded finger.

“Keep putting pressure on it” he requests with a soft yet stern tone. He turned the burner off then returned to you. He bent down, one arm under your knees and another supporting your back to pick you up bridal style. This quickly snapped you out of your pensive state. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused with the sudden movement of being picked up suddenly.

After making sure he had a stable grip on you, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes.

“I'm gonna take care of you,” and with that, the melancholic feeling inside mixed with something lighter.

Before you knew it, Noah had already brought you to the second floor of the house, carrying you to the master bathroom. Once inside, he set you on the ground gently and closed the door behind you two so Princess didn’t follow you two in. 

“Sit there, and keep your finger above your heart. It’ll help slow the bleeding,” he stated as he gestured for you to sit on the lid of the toilet seat while he rummaged through the cabinets. Keeping your finger still wrapped in the kitchen rag near your collarbone. You stared at Noah like a curious puppy, waiting to see what he’d pull out. Eventually, he located the large first aid kit from the cabinet, which you forgot was in there. You could only recall where miscellaneous bandages were placed. Noah immediately went into nurse-mode, grabbing everything he thought he would need to help bandage you up, definitely got out more than required for such a minor injury but the action warmed your heart even more. 

As he stood with all the first aid contents laid out on the counter, he softly asked “Can you please come here so I can wash your cut properly?” motioning to the sink. You raised to your feet and made the short distance to the sink. Noah quickly discarded the kitchen rag into the hamper and inspected the cut further before carefully running your finger under the cool water. While you felt cared for, as Noah always made you feel, you knew he still had some work to catch up on and felt this procedure was unnecessary for him to be doing.

“Noah, you really don’t have to do all this. I can handle it by myself” you told him in a hushed tone, even though it was only you two in the house.

“I know you can handle it, but I want to help you.. please let me take care of you darling.” he looked at you with a concerned but loving look, his brows furrowed and a pout he didn’t realize he was doing, but that was all it took for you to fully accept his care. With that, the heartrending feeling inside of you grew even smaller. 

Once Noah believed your wound was clean enough, he carefully dried it with some gauze from the first aid kit. 

“Could you please sit back down for me, love?” he asked sweetly. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies with how loving he was being, a common occurrence between you two. 

He grabbed the ointment then followed to where you sat, kneeling down to meet your height. He was being so careful with you and walked you through each step of the process as if he was an actual healthcare professional. 

“I'm going to apply this to prevent any possible infection, okay?”

You nodded in response, even though you already knew what it was for. He squeezed out the appropriate amount and attentively applied it to the cut, careful not to cause any more pain to you (even though it wasn’t very painful to begin with). When applying the ointment, you noticed he was so focused that his tongue was sticking out of his mouth a tiny bit, causing you to stifle a giggle at how adorable he looked. He was too focused on applying the ointment to notice. 

When he was satisfied with the application, he got up to grab a bandage from the counter. He pulled out a variety of different boxes earlier and looked through them all, trying to find the appropriate size. He eventually landed on one, came back over to you and kneeled down again. after giving you a quick peck to your forehead, he opened up the bandage package. you were expecting a normal beige bandage, but what you didn’t realize was Noah managed to find some Scooby Doo bandaids, similar to the ones your mom used to use for your cuts and scrapes. The realization made you start tearing up, all the memories from childhood aligning with this point in time, the feeling of everything from the past fell into place for this moment with the love of your life.

Noah was still attending to your wound, gently applying the bandage to your finger, making sure the design wasn’t askewed, then sealed it with a kiss. When he looked up, he noticed you were starting to silently cry 

He softly grabbed your face, his own full of worry. He had his other hand still holding your newly bandaged hand. He swept away some of the stray tears.

“What's wrong angel? Did I do something?” he was unsure if he accidentally hurt you enough to cause this. 

“N-no you didn’t do anything.. I’m sorry for crying i-it’s just… where did you find these? I haven't seen them in stores since I was a child.” you quickly rasped out, wiping the tears that refused to stop falling. 

He let out a light chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes which were still troubled from your state.

“Kind of an odd story.. Do you remember when we were going through old photos of us when we were kids?”

“Yeah” you squeaked out.

“Well there was one photo of you with a Scooby Doo bandaid on your elbow, I think from when you tried skateboarding and it didn’t end well. but I- uh, I thought it would be cute to get some online for purposes like these.. I'm sorry if it was a bad idea, I can get you a different one if you’d prefer.” 

He quickly got to his feet to turn to the bathroom counter, but you grabbed his hoodie before he could step away. 

“N-no it’s fine. I-I like it.. thank you, Noah”

“Then what’s got you upset?”

“It’s silly really.. it doesn’t matter. I’m all bandaged up so I can continue with dinner an-”

Noah cut you off, “The soup can wait, I wanna know what’s happening up here” . He took the hand that was resting on your cheek and tenderly poked your forehead, then placed it back on your cheek. 

“I saw the look on your face earlier, I just wanna make sure you’re okay, angel.”

“W-well, when you first started taking care of me in the kitchen, I realized that no one has ever really helped me take care of any sort of wounds, not since I was a child at least. But I've had so many instances of taking care of other people, l-like when the guitar string snapped and you got that gash on your hand.. a-and have always just thought it would be nice to receive the same care..” 

“Honey.. that isn’t silly at all. I’m glad I could be the one to take care of you, in fact I enjoyed it minus the fact it involved you getting hurt. I'll take care of you no matter how big or small the injury is. Hell, there doesn’t even need to be an injury. I love caring for you and I love you.”

The tears continued to fall from admitting your “not silly” confession, but they turned to loving tears once you heard Noah's piece about it. 

With a sniffle, you responded “I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me, bub.”

He grabbed your unbandaged hand, and raised you to your feet to engulf you in a hug. With a kiss to your forehead,“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Just then, you heard a loud thud coming from the kitchen, you and Noah quickly turned to run out and down the stairs to see what mischievous act your dog-daughter was up to. You two came entered the kitchen to Princess standing on her hind legs, with her front paws on the kitchen counter eating the celery and carrots with the cutting board on the floor. Thankfully, you dropped the knife in the middle of the island, along with any ingredients that could be dangerous to her (parental instincts). Once noticing you two were there, she immediately got down on the floor and pretended nothing ever happened. Noah went to put the cutting board back on the counter. 

“This reminds me, what was the noise that caused this?” You raised your bandaged finger for emphasis. 

“Oh, Princess rolled over in her dog bed and managed to knock over the side table with her back,” Noah giggled.

You went to the living room to see the damage, Noah following behind. Thankfully, it wasn’t terrible. The table and its contents were still on the floor since Noah rushed into the kitchen before fixing it. You set the table upright while Noah grabbed the scattered remotes and controllers from the floor. As you were putting everything back in its place, you heard another thud from the kitchen and looked over to Noah, who looked at you with the same entertained but slightly annoyed expression. 

“Well, I guess the ingredients for the soup have been stolen by someone” you said amusingly.

“I'll start a delivery order, the usual?”

“Yep.”

ok this was my time doing anything like this so i hope you enjoyed and if you have any feedback let me know!! thanks for reading <3

dividers

tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[jokingmisfit]

A New Nursery

Yandere Platonic Multi!Wells x Fem!Reader, Yandere Platonic Eobard Thawne x Reader

Warnings- Age Regression, Implied kidnapping, Implied Stalking, Past Relationships, Yandere Themes

Notes- I literally just got out of the hospital and all my life plans are going up in flames so enjoy this fic I guess.

"What is this?" She asks. "It looks like a nursery."

"It is!" HR said enthusiastically.

"Great... There is no baby here? Right?" She looks around confused.

The men gather in the hall. There's a mixture of emotion in the air and confusion on her face. HR stands closest to her smile plastered on his face as he rocks slightly on his feet. Sherloque is more in the room than in the hall slightly in front of the girl who stands in the entrance. Harry stands a bit fidgety but overall tense in between her and the doors facing wall. Slightly proud, Eobard stands leaning up against the wall the door is attached to.

"Well it is not necessarily for a baby per say more or less for someone who acts like a baby." Sherloque says factually.

She laughs. "That sounds like an insult, Sher."

"All right, enough beating around the bush, it is for you." Harry speaks up annoyed by the added antics.

"And I thought I was impatient or did you forget we were going to let her come around to that conclusion herself." Eobard taunts.

"She wasn't going to realize that herself because she didn't know that we knew what she did when she was alone." Harry started angrily waving his arms around.

A blush covers her face. She recalls the message she got that let her here. Of course, it was her old home, she lived here when Eobard was still facading as Harrison Wells. She hadn't come back for a while now though the home was left to her.

She remembers Harrison's text saying that he and the others had a surprise. She was certainly surprised and she saw Eobard there. Despite her confusion the others insured her that nothing bad would come from the man. Apparently they had made some sort of truce.

Part of her wanted to appreciate the gesture. The kindness and the time it must have taken to build it. Another part of her was concerned. How did they even know? She only regressed in the privacy of her own home. She never spoke of it. This part of herself by all means shouldn't have been discovered so easily even if they were geniuses.

"How," She cleared her throat. "How did you know about, the um, regression." Her words slowly dissipated to a whisper.

"Oh please, dear you can't actually thought that you hid it well." Sherloque answers accent thick.

"Okay... New question, why did you think this would be appropriate to do?" She asks growing upset.

"You don't like it?" Harry asks, somewhat defeated.

She chokes on her words for a moment. "It's... very nice. Still, it's kind of weird that you would go through all this work for something I didn't even know you knew about. And you didn't ask me if I was okay with it. You didn't really include me. it's a very nice surprise would have been had I been informed you were informed and if you were involved with what happened to me. But you're not I don't think you see me regress and if you did it's a little concerning how." She rambled out.

HR laughs sadly. "Geez, kiddo. We just wanted to do something good for you."

Guilt ate her stomach watching the man rub his neck. The mood had gone completely sour. Not a single person held a smile on their face at least not a real one.

"It is really nice, in theory..." She says softly.

"Still think we shouldn't just go with my plan?" Eobard asks looking over to Harry.

Panic sets under her skin for a second at the look in the doppelganger's eyes.

"I think I should go home." She says, weaving out of the hall.

She could hear the men talking as she made her way to the foyer. A few seconds after she made it out the front door red and wind greeted her. Looking up and unsurprisingly Eobard stands there in black.

"You know you really hurt their feelings princess." He says with feigned pity.

"That whole situation was weird even for you." She states with a frown.

"You really can't blame them. Seeing a precious little girl living all alone, working so hard to make herself and others happy. How could they not want to wrap you up and never let go?" He pries. "I know you won't remember, but there are versions of the timeline I got to be that for you." He says in a gravel voice.

"What?" She whispered.

"In a version of this timeline," He emphasizes. "I took care of you. It was actually quite calming. Coming home being able to care for someone who was practically helpless, and you let me." He smiles. "Probably, one of my favorite versions of the timeline."

"Well that explains how you four knew so much..." She sighs.

"Come back inside." Eobard rasps out. He moves towards her and cups her face in his hands. "Let us take care of you."

She searched his eyes and as pure as his words had been there was something dark swimming beneath it. Perhaps it was him, but their actions were confusing and odd. Suddenly something dawned on her.

"You told them this would be okay?" She asks accusingly.

"No," He answers. "I informed them that their feelings were valid nothing more."

"And how intense are these feelings?" She shakes out of his grasp.

"Enough for us to agree to do what we have to." Another voice answers. It's Harry's.

Her breath catches in her throat. "What exactly do you think you have to do?" She questions, looking at him.

The wind felt so much colder in her fear. And the men she once viewed as friends, as family, seemed more like a threat.

"Stop asking so many questions and come back inside." Harry speaks nodding his head at the door. "It's late, we can talk more in the morning."

"I promised Barry I'd visit him tonight." She lied.

"No you didn't." Sherloque adds this time.

"What are we just going to gather out here now?" She yells in anger and panic.

She stood stiff with fear. Despite this she shook faster than a heated molecule. Before she had the chance to say anything else or do anything else Sherloque handed something to Eobard. And before she could even ask about that it was inserted into her neck.

She didn't lose consciousness, but she did lose all of the feeling in her limbs. She felt almost immediately exhausted. Simply like the weight of a car pressed against her. She tried hard enough she could lift arm a little bit, but it took much too much effort to do any more.

Harry's the one who caught her and carried her into the house. All the way down the hall back into the room. The bright colors now made her head hurt. She tried to push off when he laid her in the crib-like bed. Tried to scoot away when HR sat by her to pet her hair and coo at her. Her efforts were pointless and soon the four left her to sleep. Not , of course, without whispered promises of love and happiness that her new daddies were determined to give her.

[novelistrry]

Harry visibly clenched his jaw, but that didn’t stop Y/N from going on, “You want to speak of your deception and your dishonor?”

“I don’t think you have any right to speak about deception or dishonor, Y/N. You parade yourself as the perfect princess, and yet, you lie to your subjects. Do not lecture me on deception or dishonor,” Harry drew the boundary between them, a harsh red line that was clear and hard to miss. 

“Is blackmail honorable, Prince?” Y/N seethed.

“Is fucking the stable boy honorable, Princess?” Harry didn’t know if this was actually factual, it was only the assumption he made as to why the stable boy would lie for Y/N for so long.

Y/N stuttered over her words, “I-I’m not!”

Or

Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and Harry is incredibly deceptive

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fake dating, tension, etc.

Warning: Mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, wet dreams, praise kink, deception, etc!

Word Count: 15k+ with the prologue, 12k without.

Prologue (A/N: only read this if you have not read the blurb, if you’ve already read the blurb you can scroll down to where part one “The Ruse” starts)

Y/N hated Harry.

Actually, she wasn’t quite sure the loathing could run quite as deep as it did. It was almost as if when her eyes locked with his, or she got a whiff of his cologne in the corridor, the hatred would flow through her veins and act as a power source. As if the only fuel she needed was how much she absolutely and utterly loathed that man.

So when her handmaid had told her summertime was officially in action, and she knew what summertime brought, Y/N wanted to stomp her foot like a child and throw herself onto the floor. 

Summer was supposed to be excellent, filled with fruits and sunny skies. It was supposed to be warm and lovely, but when Y/N’s parents invite Harry and his family to the palace every summer, it’s hard to find enjoyment in the season. 

He was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and Y/N wasn’t one to deny it. Green mosaic eyes, captivating and alluring like a siren sat atop a rock luring sailors in with that beautiful voice. Only instead of using his rhythmic voice to lure her in, he used the gaze of his eyes. Soft features and delicate sculpting to his face that were so perfect it was absolutely infuriating. He was perfect, truly, in every way possible and the people loved his beautiful face and charming personality. 

Except when the large wooden doors shut, leaving Y/N and Harry alone (which wasn’t supposed to happen per Y/N’s request, by the way), his mouth was foul and his charming qualities were consigned to oblivion. Around Y/N, Harry was his worst version of himself and Y/N could not stand him. 

“I don’t want him to come this year, Dorothea!” Y/N exclaimed to her chambermaid as her heels clicked against the large tile pieces. She was pacing back and forth, a nervous tick she’s had since she was little. 

Sweat accumulated in the pits of her palms, a telling sign that she was nervous, though she would never say that to Dorothea or let it be known to Harry because he would never let her live it down. 

See, Y/N and Harry were similar in two ways. One, they were both heir to a royal bloodline. And two, they were both so, so stubborn. 

“I know, dear.” Dorothea, the sweetest old lady the palace could find, spent most of her day assisting Y/N in her needs even though there weren’t very many of those. Y/N was relatively low maintenance and hated to be waited on, “It’s only three months.”

With that sentiment, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed that was just made and fluffed, deciding she would spend her day sulking in her room rather than participating in any of the start of summer festivities. As if Dorothea could tell Y/N just wanted to be left alone, she quietly made her way out of the room, and left Y/N to her own devices.

____

Maybe dreams do come true, because the summer season had officially been in swing for three days and there were no sights of Harry, or his family, lingering around the palace. Eventually, she thought she would turn the corner and catch him chatting up a chambermaid with a devilish smile and eyes that would turn a girl into a puddle of melted candy, but it had been three days and even the girls she passed (who were anticipating him heavily) were whispering about the prince being late.

By the fifth day, Y/N was beginning to feel the weight lift off her chest and the ease flood through her veins. Though she didn’t dare to ask her parents about Prince Harry’s whereabouts because that would come with an agonizingly painful interrogation (they truly believed their daughter would wed the man), and a small reprimand because of her prior years sour behavior toward him, though they didn’t know just how insufferable he was in return. 

Small talk whisked throughout the palace by the seventh day, explaining that Prince Harry would not be attending this summer season because he was to be married by the end of the year to a princess Y/N had never heard of. A small twitch shot through her chest, but she brushed it off feigning it as relief she never had to deal with him again. While Y/N acted oblivious, everyone knew the reason Harry and his family visited the palace every summer is because the families were hoping for an alliance of sorts— for Harry and Y/N to form a union, to form a bond that would end in marriage. As much as she chalked the twitch in her chest and the hollow in her belly as a feeling of relief, she was confused as to why she wished he would have written. Not necessarily her, but at least to her parents, informing that he would not be there this summer (or any summer for that matter because he was getting married) that way she didn’t have to walk around for days on end, thinking there would be a jumpscare in the corridor or the dining hall.

A flicker of annoyance lit inside of her, an emotion she was familiar with and actually grateful for at the moment because it took away from the abnormal sensation in the chest and abdomen. Why wouldn’t he write? Or his parents at the very least? What kind of person does that? Y/N knew just how hard the chambermaids, the scullery kitchen, and the people who made the palace function as well as it did were working to ensure their guests were accommodated and comfortable for the three months they were staying with them.

It was very unlike Y/N, usually very polite and soft-spoken to feel that kind of irritation. The kind that was so pent up it was making her breathing slightly erratic and she was puffing breaths in and out through her nose. In a very un-Y/N like fashion, she decided that if Prince Harry wasn’t going to write to her, then she was going to write to him and tell him how distasteful his lack of presence or notification on the betrothal was.

Before she could even process what she was doing, she was in the main library of the palace, sitting at the writing table and crafting a heartfelt message to her dear friend Prince Harry, slightly berating him in each line for his so-called prince ethics (or lack-there-of). 

Dear Prince Harry,

I am sitting here, writing to tell you how distasteful I find your lack of arrival. It is great news within our palace that you are to be married, which in turn, delays your arrival to our annual summer festivities, and possibly inhibits you from attending these festivities ever again.

A true prince, knowing royal ethics, would have written far in advance, revoking his acceptance to my family’s invitation. It seems that, as always, you are too engrossed in your own endeavors to care about the people around you who have taken the time to prepare for your arrival. 

I know our royal household has been working gravely to make certain you and your family have a wonderful stay over the summer, as they have done every summer for the past two years—

“I knew I would find you in here,” his voice, clear and steady, echoed through the library bouncing off the walls and the leather bindings of the books which sat on the shelves of the wall, “You’re always in here doing something or another.”

She knew who it was by the sound of his voice, deep and sultry. He always spoke with such precision and so bluntly that even with her eyes closed, she could tell who it was just by the energy that filled the space. Arrogance and tempting were his two most significant qualities and they always filled the room, leaving her to suffocate in his presence.

Quickly, she jumped up and grabbed the letter, crumpling it in her hands. The ink was so fresh it smeared all over her hands with her rush, and when she looked to see him standing under the doorway, she noted that not a thing about him had changed. He stood with that same arrogance in his posture, his eyes were still that deepsea green, and his lips, chin, and jaw were as beautiful (if not more) as the last time she saw him.

Quirking his eyebrows, he couldn’t help himself. “Now I need to know what was in that letter you were writing. Are you in love, my dear Y/N.”

He took a step forward, and she realized he thought she would just hand the letter over to him, like it was his property to be read. And even though it technically was, the letter was now void because he did, in fact, show up for the summer season. While it may have been intended for him, the content of the letter did not matter, and because he expected her to walk over and drop the letter in the palm of his hand, that absolutely infuriated her.

“I will not give this to you,” Y/N shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. She almost cringed at the tone of her voice, so abrasive and calloused. Harry brought out the worst in her, he really did. Though, she didn’t understand how Harry could make this frustration brew inside of her when the rest of the Styles were so lovely to be around.

In two long strides, Harry was rounding the writing desk and in front of her. He towered over her, reaching for the crumpled letter in her hands and before she could grasp the paper tighter, it slipped beneath her fingertips and he was reading it aloud.

“I thought you said this wasn’t for me, Princess?” Harry wasn’t asking, it was more rhetorical than anything. The mock in his tone sent a heat through her, plummeting up from where her heart dropped in her stomach to the apples of her cheeks.

He held the letter above the both of them, the words still readable even though the ink was smeared on the page. As he read aloud, Y/N wanted to drop to the floor and cover her ears from listening to speak her foolish words out loud. If anything, the letter was an act of catharsis. She probably would have never actually sent it to Harry, even if she said she was going to, but writing the words on the paper and pretending like she was going to send it to him was semi-therapeutic. By the second line, she was jumping in the air like a fish out of water, trying to grasp the letter from his hands so he couldn’t continue. To make matters worse, he was chuckling between words and flashing wide grins in her direction when he paused.

Eventually, the way she was jumping and frantically trying to snatch the letter from him was just as humiliating as the strong words she had put on that piece of paper he held in his hands, so she stopped and turned away from him so that he could not see the look of horror on her face as he finished reading the letter.

Finally, he got to the part where he walked in and startled her from her writing desk, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt on the paper when his voice echoed throughout the room, and even though he was done reading the letter, she couldn’t bear to look at him. If there was one thing about Harry, he always had the upper hand with her. Always.

“I wish I hadn’t interrupted your thoughts when I came in here a few moments ago. I’m positive the rest of this letter would have been a great read, and you print your thoughts so eloquently, Y/N.” He was trying to get under her skin, even though he knew he had already burrowed himself under the flesh like a mite the second he walked in the room. That was another one of Harry’s traits— he wanted to see just how much he could push her until she snapped, because he loved watching her snap.

“Enough,” she spoke, barely turning to look at him. She caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, enough for her to squint just barely and for him to know she was giving him a dirty look.

“Well, Y/N, clearly this letter was for me. Was it not?” He was doing it; pushing and pressing until the temper within her flicked on a light and her thoughts rifling through her brain started spewing like fire, the world around them turning to ash with each word that fell from her lips and targeted him like a huntsman and its prey. 

“It wasn’t for you—” She began, getting cut off by the prince.

“It clearly says ‘Dear Prince Harry, I am sitting here, writing to y—”

Within under a second, she was turning on her heels to face him once more and trying to pry the letter from his fingers. To no avail, she didn’t think she could handle him reading the letter out loud once more, so she covered her ears and began begging him to stop. The worst part was the feeling she had in her gut, the feeling one gets in their gut and their throat before the tears start forming in their eyes. While Harry had many horrid qualities about him, one of her terrible qualities were tears that formed, not out of sadness, but out of anger. Deeply, she inhaled to smooth out her thoughts and quiet her mind. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Grinning like the devil, he spoke slowly and quietly so any chambermaids passing by could not hear the words he was about to speak to her, “Are you embarrassed, Princess? The girl everyone thinks is so ladylike and polite writing words that would tarnish that sweet reputation.”

“I was never going to send it, and I think you know that,” she countered, and even though she knew he knew that letter was never going to leave her possession, she felt like she needed to reiterate that point.

Carefully and slowly—almost painfully slowly— he brought his finger to her cheeks and swiped across to feel the heat radiating off of her skin and she knew he was gaining even more satisfaction at the heat in her cheeks confirming his question, that she was embarrassed by him finding her letter. To rub salt in the wound, he folded the letter up and stuffed it in the pit of his pocket where she would not dare to fish out, as it was not very polite to stick your hand in someone else’s pocket, “For safekeeping,” he stated.

Those two words made her want to do it— stick her hand in his pocket and fish the letter out, tear it in little tiny pieces, and then stomp on the shreds of paper right in front of him, but she wouldn’t do it because she, unlike him, did not lack manners.

“You are absolutely unbearable, Prince. Do not think my opinion on you has changed. I can assure you it has not,” she wanted to get under his skin the way he got under hers, so she added, “Where is your betrothed?” 

He paused for a moment, searching for the words, “I am not to be married, Y/N.”

The tone was cut and brief, not the same tone he had when she was pushing his buttons, but a clear line was drawn showing her this is where the boundary was placed, and as much as she wanted to upset him the way he upset her, Y/N did not want to pick and pry about his presumably failed engagement. Though, she did not blame the girl for not wanting to marry someone with such an insufferable attitude. And maybe, just maybe, she also didn’t want to hear about the girl. She didn’t want Harry to talk about how beautiful she was, or what her hobbies were. She didn’t want to know a thing about her or how she wormed her way into the heart of someone so aloof and out of touch with the idea of love. To put it plainly, she didn’t want to hear about their courtship and what he did to make her swoon.

Y/N would never admit it, but the first time she ever met Harry, she was taken with him. And then he opened his mouth, all-knowing and witty bordering intolerable.

“Well, then,” Y/N didn’t quite know what to say in response, seeming to be more uncomfortable with the idea of him getting married than he was.

With a mere couple inches between them, he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Soft lips grazed the tops of her ears, a warm heat shooting through her, and though she was disgusted with herself for having such an instinctual reaction to his body and his lips so close to her skin, she was graceful enough to remind herself that it was only natural for her core to stir and her stomach to flip.

And when he finally spoke, his lips moved against her ear, “I am going to enjoy playing with you this summer, Y/N.”

She wanted to scream. She almost did.

Instead she took a step back, gasping and brushing out the wrinkles in her dress, “I absolutely loathe you.”

“I love that you loathe me,” he replied before turning on his heels and walking out of the library.

Y/N knew it was going to be a long summer filled with taunts from Harry.

And much to her dismay, that night she dreamed about his lips pressing against her.

I. The Ruse

Y/N had told Dorothea she was feeling too ill to attend the breakfast table that morning. Albeit, the truth of the matter was that she was shaken by her dreams poisoned by Harry— maybe they were good dreams about his lips, his fingers, the way he caressed her cheek, but the fact that it was Harry doing those things to her was enough to deduce it was a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare.

“Should I fetch you some tea?” Dorothea pressed her hand to Y/N’s forehead, feeling for a fever, but when the skin under her hands was cool rather than clammy, Dorothea raised an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“No, no,” Y/N swung the covers over her, revealing her nightgown. Stiffly, she planted her feet on the wooden planks beneath the bed as she made a show of stretching, “Don’t fuss over me. I’m already feeling much better, Dorothea.”

“Better enough to attend breakfast?” Dorothea questioned her, the brow still raised in suspicion, and Y/N knows she should just tell Dorothea the truth but it was her stubborn nature that prevented her from letting Dorothea know about her encounter with the Prince yesterday. 

“I believe it’s late anyway,” Y/N reasoned, “I will fetch something when the dining hall has been cleared out.”

Dorothea only shook her head in disappointment, but Y/N pretended not to notice. 

______________

In an effort to maintain his dignity, Harry had to stop looking at the chestnut oak double doors separating the dining hall from the rest of the castle. Each time a servant opened the door to replenish something on the table, Harry’s head snapped over, hoping it would be Y/N that walked through the doors just so he could see her again. 

It was agonizing, honestly. She was sweeter than droplets of nectar. Bees were probably drawn to her, knowing her personality was as sweet as the honey they produced, attracting to her like the pollen they longed to search for. 

That, precisely, is why she aggravated Harry so much. From the time Harry was born, it was engraved in his brain that he was a ruler; he was honorable, decisive, and empathetic. All the qualities that made up a leader, and he knew it, too. Though, he was self-aware enough to know where he was lacking, and he was lacking (probably) the most important quality a leader can have—compassion and the ability to connect. 

For Y/N, that was something that came so naturally. She could connect with just about anyone. The princess blended in with the common folk so... Seamlessly, it was absolutely infuriating. Harry had tried, plenty of times, to blend in, to connect with his people and his royal household but he could never achieve it the way Y/N did. She was a real princess, and it made him feel like a fraud. 

Years had passed with him learning about how to rule, the best way, the honorable way. For Y/N, it seemed that she was born with the knowledge, never having to lift a finger or read a book. 

So it pleased him, angering her to the point of outbursts. In her court, she was polite, loved, and deemed the absolute most charismatic one can be. When she was just about shaking with rage, foul words dripping from her lips, that is when Harry was content— when she looked less like a statue, the perfect creation this court has formed her to be, and more like a human. More like him. 

That is when the irritation he felt toward her stopped festering, just for a moment in time. 

And he knew he was absolutely terrible for it, absolutely atrocious, but he wanted to corrupt her. Ruin the molding she was fit into. 

Sounds of fingers fiddling on the doorknob caused him to look up, and when a servant walked in with another tray of warm bread and fresh butter, his eyes averted to his plate to avoid the teasing that was about to come from the King’s Hand— or well, Prince’s Hand, really, since he wouldn’t truly be the King’s Hand until Harry’s coronation.

But he was too late, and the words were already coming out of Niall’s mouth, “If you’re going to keep glancing up every time someone walks in, wishing her to walk through those doors, then why don’t you just go seek her out?”

“I don’t wish for her to walk through those doors, Niall,” Harry’s jaw tensed as he spoke, the inclination that he was waiting for her making him somewhat irate, “I am merely observing, isn’t that important? To be aware of one’s surroundings?”

“Yes,” Niall sucked in his teeth, moving his gaze from the angle of Harry’s jaw back to his plate of food, “Indeed it is.”

Harry spread butter on a fresh piece of bread, ignoring Niall’s comment, and when Niall realized Harry wasn’t going to say anything else, he continued to poke the bear. “Why didn’t you marry Duchess Violet when you had the opportunity? Why push the wedding? So you could come here? See her?”

A hiss left Harry’s mouth before answering in a hushed voice, low enough that the people around them could not hear. “Why so many questions, Niall?”

“I’m trying to understand,” he shrugged his shoulders, the level of his voice now matching Harry’s.

“I pushed the wedding because I did not want to marry the Duchess, Niall. Simple as that. I came here because my parents are convinced that Princess Y/N and I will form an attachment if I spend enough time with her. That is what they want after all.”

“Then what?” Niall’s questioning was causing sweat to bead on Harry’s forehead. He didn’t want to think of the then what factor.

“I suppose when I return home, the arrangement between the Duchess and I will initiate once more.” Harry cocked his head over to Niall, dropping the piece of bread on his plate. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“What is your game here this summer, Prince?” Niall asked, locking eyes with Harry’s whose eyes were the same pigment as a field of green clovers populating in the crisp months of Spring, mischief dancing in his irises.

Slowly and carefully he gave Niall the essence of his plan, “I will convince the Princess to form an alliance with me— A facade, if you will. We will put on a show, and before our attachment is sealed with a ring, she will say she can no longer do it. And I will be so heartbroken, to the nation’s knowledge, that they will not pester me about marrying. I do not need to marry. I will not need to marry.”

“And will you be heartbroken, Prince?” This seemed to be Niall’s only concern.

“No,” Harry paused and then added on, “I do not believe so.”

“And what if she does not agree to a facade?” 

“Then I will charm her. Seduce her.” This was all Harry was willing to say on the matter as he pushed his chair up.

______________

Y/N, to her credit, was full of secrets.

Every now and again, she would poke her head out, scan the corridor, then jump back into her bedchamber when she heard the sound of heels clicking against the flooring. 

And she’s never felt quite so childish before. Usually, when Harry came for the summer, Y/N didn’t go out of her way to avoid him, but after their interaction in the study she didn’t think she was ready to face him yet. 

If Y/N was honest with herself, two years ago when she first met the prince, she was quite smitten. And maybe it was the fact that he was engaged to someone else. .. Someone Y/N didn’t know. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t bother to tell her, or write to her family that got her so worked up. Maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that someone wormed their way into his icy chest and planted a seed of fire that caused him to want them.

She had trouble admitting it to herself, but she fancied Harry more than she let on. The only person in the entire castle that knew just how deep her feelings for Harry ran was Dorothea, though the words had never left Y/N’s lips and they might not ever. 

Rage has simmered in her gut, boiling over into her fingertips that flowed against the page where she etched words onto a canvas that conveyed her grievances with Harry. The memory of her sitting there, rage-writing a letter she never intended to send, and Harry snatching it out of her hands and reading aloud sent a churn in her stomach, the humiliation of the moment festering inside her once more. 

The true reason she had been avoiding him, at last. She was utterly embarrassed by the entire ordeal. All he had to do was read in between the lines, and all of her feelings were on display. Harry having that letter was a different kind of vulnerability. 

So she snuck out to the stables, where her good friend Brad worked as the stable boy. Y/N and Brad shared a secret the people did not know, it was kept between the two of them, and she liked Brad for the fact he has known her secret for about four years and has not told a soul has made her like them all the more. 

Boots trudged in the muddy grass as she made her way out to the stables, where Brad tended to her horses (and the other horses, of course). Birds cooed in the sky, the sing-song noises filling her ears and putting her at peace for the first time since yesterday. 

When she had finally made it to the big barn, nearly a quarter mile away from the actual castle, Brad was nowhere to be seen. Quietly, she lurked around, craning her head around corners and scouting him out. 

Right as she was about to call out his name, because it was very unlikely for him to not be here, she rounded one more corner and saw him nestled next to the Prince— next to Harry. 

She almost audibly groaned when she saw him standing there, invading her space. Where she liked to go to clear her head, but before a noise could escape her lips, she realized if she slowly backed out of the hall then she might escape the pair before either of them saw her.

As she slowly tried to back out of the hall encompassed by horse stables, the two rather close together, both snapped their heads in her direction. Two sets of eyes locked with hers, her mouth watering as her stomach turns nervously when Harry’s green gaze of disapproval scans her up and down.

“Y/N?” Brad asked, projecting his tone down the length of the hall so she could hear him clearly, “What are you doing all the way down there?”

“Nothing!” Her tone projected as well, matching Brad’s. “I was thinking I could see Freya, but I see you’re busy.”

“Why don’t you come closer, Princess? So we don’t have to shout too loud.” Harry said, and Y/N knew the look upon his face. Whenever he was about to do something devious, a smirk would spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling with the game he was about to partake in.

And Y/N doesn’t know why she listened to him, why she didn’t just turn away, but before she could tell herself to stop, she was walking toward the both of them. Each step felt shameful, her eyes averting from Harry’s and to Brad. She couldn’t stand the way Harry looked at her, like she was a toy, like he could burn holes through her soul if he really wanted to.

She shifted her body to angle more toward Brad, not completely cutting Harry out of the circle they were now standing in, but angling herself enough to show that her body language was more open to Brad than she was to Harry.

“Isn’t this one Freya?” Harry pointed to the stall directly across from them. There stood her light gray horse, mane and tail braided perfectly. 

Actually, if someone saw Y/N and Freya standing side by side, they would simply know Freya was meant for Y/N by the way she holds herself; strong, with a gentle demeanor radiating off her. The only problem is that people would never see Freya and Y/N side by side, because Y/N (as much as she loved Freya) was too afraid to take her out of her stall. In Y/N’s kingdom, it was inevitable that every young prince or princess had to ride, because at their coronation one of the requirements was to ride in on their horse. The issue wasn’t that Y/N didn’t know how to ride. She did. The issue was that Y/N wouldn’t because of an accident that happened three years ago, leaving Y/N scared to ever get on the back of a horse, or to even walk around with her lead rope in hand. Nobody knew, except Brad, that Y/N hadn’t been on the back of her horse since the accident, it was a secret the two of them kept together.

“Yes,” Y/N turned to him, just slightly, “That is her.”

“Go on, then,” Harry motioned toward her, “We don’t mind if you take her out.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped, glancing at Brad to see if he could help her worm her way out of this situation. He has helped her before, when her parents would find her in the stable and ask if she wanted to go on a ride with them. Brad would say something like, Princess Y/N just put Freya back, they went on a lengthy ride earlier and Freya is resting now. It made Y/N feel selfish to know how much trouble Brad could get in for lying, but she was too much of a coward to tell anyone her fears.

Brad interjected, just not with what she hoped for, “Y/N doesn’t ride.”

Confusion contorted Y/N’s features as he outed her secret to the one person she didn’t want to know an inkling about her. “Brad!”

Brad’s eyes widened slightly, his brows raising as he replied, “I’m sorry, Y/N! I thought it was okay for him to know? It’s not as if he lives in the palace.”

Harry stepped closer, putting a pin in the conversation Brad and Y/N were beginning to have right in front of him, “Why doesn’t she ride?”

Brad waited, momentarily, for Y/N to respond but when her lips stayed sealed, withholding the information from Harry he decided to come clean for her. “Y/N has panic attacks when she gets too close to horses. Nobody knows.”

At least he didn’t tell Harry why horses made her panic.

“Yet you come out here anyway?”

Heedfully, she took in a deep breath and began to collect her thoughts which seemed to be swimming everywhere. These past two days, she had never felt so exposed, so bare in front of him. First with the letter, and now with Brad’s indiscretion to Y/N’s secret. “As you may already know, horse riding is big in our culture, so I come out here to keep up appearances. And, I do love my Freya.”

“You’re a fraud, then? A liar?” Harry sucked in a breath, that grin teetering on amusement— a fine line between pure and utter cruelty. 

“If that’s what you will call it,” Y/N tried not to let the emotions welling inside show on her face, remaining neutral and stoic was the best way to ignore Harry. She, too, could sink her claws in him and tear him apart by simply ignoring him. “I must be going.”

Swiftly, she turned, paying no mind to Freya and blocking out the snickering coming from Harry as she walked out of the barn. Her boots trudged in the mud once more, and the frustration brewing inside was threatening to spill over, though she would not allow it to until she was alone in the privacy of her own room. 

The palace was in plain sight, she only needed to walk a straight narrow path before she could take a side door to the main corridor and scurry off to her room (hopefully avoiding many of the household staff on the way). It was unfair, but she wanted to yell at Brad for offering Harry such private information. Should she blame him, though? He’s been keeping her secret for nearly three years, lying for her, and obviously he didn’t know that Harry had brutish tendencies— especially when it came to her. In fact, she thought back to it. The way the two of them were standing, how Harry was shifting closer to Brad with each word. If Y/N didn’t know better, Harry was trying to turn Brad into putty in his hands which honestly might have been more of an issue than him knowing her secret panic attacks she would have in the privacy of Freya’s stall. Was Harry interested in Brad, trying to charm him with his good looks and that personality that oozed sweetness? Y/N may have never seen that side of him, but amongst the chambermaids he was quite the sweet-talker.

“Y/N,” a low, gruff voice called from behind her. When she tried to pick up the pace, she only heard the shuffling of Harry’s boots behind her go faster. 

It wasn’t like she would be able to escape him, if he truly wanted to pester her he would find her in her bedchamber. It was better to have a discussion with him out in the open instead of him tainting her bedchamber with his attitude. 

“What?” She turned on her heels and snapped her head toward him, the tone of her voice laced with anger.

“I wanted to have a discussion with you,” he took a few steps closer so they were only an arms distance from each other. He wanted his next words to be just barely above a whisper.

“Then speak,” Y/N pursed her lips together, crossing her arms so that she could shield herself against him in some way. Clearly, crossing her arms wasn’t actually going to protect her from him, but in a way, it felt like a mental shield, keeping him out of her head and far away.

“It has been two days of me gracing you with my company, and within those two days, I have obtained a letter I’m convinced you would not like to fall into the wrong hands, and I have discovered you have been deceiving many people and getting the stable boy to lie for you,” Harry’s pointer finger traced under her chin, noting the shiver that ran down her back as she stepped away from his touch, “Now, if you do not want that letter circulating throughout the palace, and if you do not want everyone to know you are a fraud, then you will offer me something I need.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Harry was blackmailing her? She had always taken him for possessing a certain cruelty about him, but never thought he would stoop low to the point where blackmail (quite literally when she takes the letter into consideration) would be hanging over her head like a bundle of mistletoe. 

“What is wrong with you?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stepping backward as her arms tightened around herself once more. 

“What is your answer, Y/N?” He spoke with such an airy indifference that she almost couldn’t tell if he was playing a very humorless joke on her.

“I don’t believe I have much of a choice in the matter!” She barked back, and that flicker of anger displayed on her face and in her tone of voice made his lips curve up into a cursed smile, so she tried to cool herself down and remain stoic— just as unbothered as he seemed to be.

“I am giving you a choice, darling,” Harry said, the word rolling off his tongue like the pet name was second nature to him, “One option is unfavorable, though. For you, at the very least.”

It was written across his face; either answer she gave him was a win for him. This was a situation where she was going to lose, a situation where the upper hand was in his court and he was playing the game with no mercy. If she said yes, she was indebted to him, owing him a favor. And if she said no, the shame of her actions would not only reflect on her, but her family as well. 

“Tell me what you need,” an exasperated sigh she didn’t mean to let out, falling from her lips.

“Agree first.” Harry was a politician first, a prince second, and a human being last.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “Do you believe I haven’t learned to never agree to something binding without knowing the stipulations first, Prince?”

“And do you think I would present my vulnerabilities to you without an answer first? I tell you, you don’t agree with the clause, and now you know what I need. Why should I do that?” His reasoning was valid to her, though she would never admit to it.

“Then my answer is no,” Y/N began turning on her heels to walk away; get as far away as she possibly could, but she stopped in her tracks when he caught up behind her, hooking his fingers around her waist and pressing his front against her back.

Incredibly cool and collected, he pressed his lips against her ears before he spoke, causing a chill to rip down her spine and a tightening coil in the pit of her stomach. “You’ve made your choice, then. Tonight in the dining hall, while we are in the middle of dinner with the most important people, I will stand and tell everyone of your fraudulent activities. In fact, I might even embellish it— explain how you’ve been keeping the stable boy so quiet with your mouth. Do you know what that means, princess? I will tell them how you’ve squandered his innocence, and when the shame is rising from here,” Harry’s fingers trailed from her hip to her stomach, and then all the way up to the apple of her cheeks, “To here… That is when I will twist the knife, and begin reading your finest letter aloud. And when you are crying, I will not stop.”

Y/N turned back around, stepping away from him to get distance before spitting out, “You are cruel, Harry. So, very, cruel.”

“You are flattering me,” he quirked an eyebrow, and she so badly wanted to connect her fist to that stupid smirk on his face.

“Fine,” Y/N nodded her head, refusing to give him any more leverage, “I will help you.”

“Great, then I will court you for the entire summer, and just before it is time for me to propose to you… You will come up with some excuse to break it off, and I will pretend I am utterly heartbroken and need time to heal.” 

Y/N was shocked his ruse was not nearly as bad as she had expected it to be. She thought maybe he would be requesting her to break into the general’s office and steal classified military documents, or something absolutely absurd and dangerous. But a courtship under false pretenses was… Dishonorable, but not a crime.

“That’s it?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why?”

“Because,” he was beginning to feel frustrated, and Y/N could tell by the way he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. “I do not want to marry the Dutchess, and I fear if I do not place a ring on your finger, that is my destiny. However, if you end our courtship and I feign heartbreak, how could anyone tell me I need to marry when I lost the love of my life.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke the words.

“And—” Y/N began to ask another question before Harry interrupted her.

“That is all the information I will give you on the topic.”

“Fine,” she, herself, was done with the conversation anyway. There were much better things for her to do than scheme with Harry, “Now if you would leave me be, I would like some space from you.”

“Take what you need, because after dinner we will be attached at the hip once we announce our courtship.”

This might be the death of Y/N.

______________

Pretending to be under the weather was not going to cut it this evening, Y/N knew she couldn’t get out of another meal with her family, Harry’s, and the other important people that made it to the dining hall list without a stern talking to from Dorothea. 

On top of that, she knew that Harry was going to announce their courtship, and he probably wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of announcing it without her there. Actually, she wasn’t too keen on the idea, either. Who knows what he would say?

With thoughts racing through her head, and the click of her ballet flats on the mosaic tile, she made her way down the corridor until she was standing just outside of the tall oak doors. As soon as they opened, she would find her seat, and her fate for the summer would be sealed.

“Looking nervous, darling.” Harry spoke from behind her, creeping up on her for the third time since he’s been here. Rolling her eyes was beginning to become a natural reaction at this point. 

“Don’t call me that,” Y/N hissed out, barely taking her eyes from the door as he walked up behind her so he was nearly touching her backside as his fingers reached for the knob and turned it slowly. 

It was quiet when her eyes locked with her mother and father’s eyes, and when she slid her gaze over to Harry’s parents, she couldn’t help but feel shame that ticked in her lower stomach. It was one thing to be deceptive to her own parents; it was another to be deceptive to someone else’s. This was definitely something she was going to bring up to Harry later. 

Dorothea was sitting beside Y/N’s mother, and when she noticed her, Dorothea offered an approving smile and a small glance toward Harry’s direction. On multiple occasions, Dorothea had tried to convince Y/N that Harry was not that horrible as she knew him since he was a young boy, but Y/N would gawk and scoff and exclaim with exasperation: Why are you taking his side? Now, Dorothea had believed Harry finally charmed Y/N just enough to weasel his way into her heart, but little did Dorothea know, it was quite the opposite. 

Dinner was going by smoothly. Every now and again, Harry would make some small talk with Y/N, and as soon as the pair began speaking softly under their breath, the entire table would stop talking to hear what the two of them were conversing about. It was making Y/N rather anxious to have so much attention thrown in her general direction, but she supposed if she were in their shoes, she would be just as curious.

Before the meal came to a close, Harry tapped a shiny piece of silverware against his glass, gaining everyone’s attention. Though, Y/N wanted to tell him if he wanted all eyes on him, all he would have to do is look at her, whisper her name, and the chattering amongst the table would cease so everyone could hone in on their private conversation. “Everyone, I wanted to announce mine and precious Y/N’s courtships. After two long summers of denying our tension amongst one another, we decided it was in everyone’s best interest if we gave our compatibility a shot.”

A couple people clapped, and Y/N tried so hard to repress the eyeroll and the scoff that wanted to surface so badly. Dorothea shot a wink in her direction, so Y/N offered a small smile because a grimace would lead to questioning from her later, and lying to Dorothea was not something she felt too good about. Y/N had already deceived her once today by feigning illness, and twice with Harry’s speech of their courtship, but she did not want to have a separate conversation with Dorothea that contained the weight of her lies.

As soon as dinner ended, Y/N found herself rushing from the dining hall, nausea filling her gut as bile threatened to creep up her throat. In a few turns, she was down the corridor, and finally, she was on the terrace, breathing in the crisp night air. Stars illuminated the sky, the moon brightening the path she was walking down, and she should have known better to think she would get just one moment alone (or one moment where Harry was not creeping up behind her).

“Y/N, I want to talk,” Harry whispered, although the words may have been hushed, but they were on the louder side like a… Hushed shout?

“I’m not sure I would like to talk right now,” Y/N replied back, kicking scattered rocks out of the path they were taking that led to the gardens on the right side of the palace.

“I promise I will leave you alone for the night after this,” Harry sounded sincere, “I just want to work out the logistics with you.”

“The logistics with me?” Y/N scoffed, pivoting on her heels and throwing her hands up in exasperation. The tone of her voice was laced with venom, and the scrunch of her nose which led all the way up to her eyebrows, giving her the look of an angry kitten was enough to tell Harry she was quite upset with the ordeal, “You mean, you would like to speak of your deception?”

Harry visibly clenched his jaw, but that didn’t stop Y/N from going on, “You want to speak of your deception and your dishonor?”

“I don’t think you have any right to speak about deception or dishonor, Y/N. You parade yourself as the perfect princess, and yet, you lie to your subjects. Do not lecture me on deception or dishonor,” Harry drew the boundary between them, a harsh red line that was clear and hard to miss. 

“Is blackmail honorable, Prince?” Y/N seethed.

“Is fucking the stable boy honorable, Princess?” Harry didn’t know if this was actually factual, it was only the assumption he made as to why the stable boy would lie for Y/N for so long.

Y/N stuttered over her words, “I-I’m not!”

“Maybe you’re not,” he looked her up and down, the sinister glare in his eyes making her want to recoil into herself, “But you want to.”

Y/N did not deny her attraction to the stable boy, though, she had never fantasized of him in such salacious ways, and that little flicker of emotion that ran across her features was something Harry picked up on immediately. 

“Would it break your little heart, Princess?” Harry took a step closer, the vein on his neck popping out as he clenched his jaw harder, “If I let your stable boy lay in my bed?”

Y/N gasped. She had never heard someone be so… Vulgar. 

The response she was looking for swam through her head but she couldn’t quite locate it as she filed through the crevices of her brain. How could she answer that? To her luck, Harry was on his heels and walking toward the direction of the stables so she didn’t have to respond to him. He muttered out the grumpiest, “I’ll find you later,” and Y/N’s heart sank as she realized Harry was trying to find Brad to either bed him, or tell Brad about her embarrassing little crush. Y/N had never felt so exposed in her own territory. 

______________

“This is never going to work, Niall!” Harry exclaimed, kicking off his riding boots and pacing his way back and forth in Niall’s personal cabin. Niall was the Prince’s Hand, his second in command, but he needed his space. When they would come for the summer, Niall would occupy the cottage on the outskirts of the palace, the only way to get there was by horseback, which is part of the reason he felt so comfortable being open with Niall. There was no possible way the princess would be strolling down the corridor and overhear him chatting with Niall when they were so far away, and the only way she could get there was by horseback, which he knew she wouldn’t do.

“What do you mean?” Niall looked over at him, pouring a glass of sparkling wine that was located on the bar top near the kitchenette. Harry noted that Niall was pouring two glasses, one for Harry and one for himself.

“She’s too stubborn.” Harry sighed out, taking the glass from Niall as he reached his hand out, then plummeted into one of the cushion filled chairs in the corner of the room. “She won’t be able to go through with it.”

“And you have leverage over her, do you not? I thought that was why you were so sure of your plan?” Niall pressed the frosted glass to his lips, then tipped his head back.

Harry followed suit, tipping his head back after pressing the cool glass to his lip. The slight carbonation of the alcohol, and the burn of the alcohol itself singed the back of his throat before he shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. “I do have leverage as I told you about. I fear if she backs out, I would never be able to put her through that, though.”

“It was my understanding that you didn’t care and you do not like her. If that is the case, then what is the issue, Prince?” Niall questioned.

“I do not care about her and I do not like her, but what would it say about me if I grasped that leverage and exposed her so openly like that…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he brought the glass back to his lips once more.

“So you do not care about her, and you do not like her, but you care about what others would think if you humiliated her so publicly?” Niall was beginning to understand.

“Exactly,” Harry agreed.

Niall didn’t like giving Harry advice like this, but he was loyal to Harry first and always. When he began fitting the puzzle pieces together of the dynamic between Harry and Y/N, before he could even process his own thought process he blurted, “If you think she is too stubborn, then change that. Have you thought that maybe the reason she is so stubborn around you is because of the fact you are so mean to her. Stop being so cruel. Be a gentleman, make her like you. Hell, make her even love you, and at the end of the summer, if you still do not believe you are the type of man to marry, then begin corresponding with the Duchess again, forcing Y/N to break it off with you. You told her it was all a ruse, then so be it. However, that does not mean you have to make her life a living hell. You can charm her, make her fall for you, and when you invite the Duchess to the ball at the end of the summer, Y/N will have no other choice than to call it off.”

Harry paused, sitting upright in the chair rather than slouching over, “So you are saying to charm her still, even though she’s already agreed to the facade with me?”

“Precisely,” Niall pushed the guilty feeling down.

“And at the end of the summer when I want her to call it off, let her find me entangled with Duchess Violet?” Harry was the one asking questions now.

“Yes,” Niall let out a small breath.

“Smart man,” was all Harry said, and that was the end of the conversation as Harry slipped his boots on, bolted out the door, mounted his horse, and rode back to the main palace so he could talk to Y/N.

______________

Y/N was still in the garden, ruminating over the argument she just had with Harry. How could someone be so handsome, resembling a person who was probably carved by the most delicate angels themselves, have such a crude mouth and an evil demeanor? If Harry was a little bit nicer, she thinks he would be the easiest person to fall in love with.

“Y/N?” Harry whispered, and when she turned around to look at him, he noted the way the light from the moon reflected off the top of his curly brown hair, where it hit the highs of his cheekbones, and she noted the delicacy in his sea moss green eyes.

“I’m too exhausted to argue, Prince.” She remained grounded, her feet planted into the soil. Her cheeks were still wet from the tears spilled over after Harry left her feeling silly, and even though the streaks remained on her cheeks, there were no more droplets forming in her eyes.

He stepped closer, so close that his body was almost pressed against the front of hers. She noted the way his hand lingered by her hip, wanting badly to close the gap between them by positioning his hand behind her and pulling her close. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” She was strong, she was going to be tough.

“I feel terrible, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes was enough to send a ripple of shock through her. Honestly, the sincerity he felt was enough to send a ripple of shock through him. It was true, he did feel terrible. He never meant to make her cry.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, beginning to turn away from him, but he caught her with his hand around her hip, then closed the gap between them so there was no space between the pair.

“It’s not,” he disagreed, “I… I want to be your friend, Y/N.”

“My friend?” She was so fucking confused.

“Yes,” he nodded his head, creeping his free hand under her chin and forcing her to look up and directly at him. “I do not want to be the only person benefiting from this deception.”

“Okay,” she didn’t know what else to say.

“Let me teach you how to feel comfortable on a horse again. I can give you lessons.” He decided showing her how to be confident atop a horse would be something she would benefit from. She wouldn’t have to feel confined to the palace anymore or lie to the people around her.

“So you can belittle me in our lessons?” Y/N asked, raising a brow at him.

“No, Y/N. No more of that, I can assure you.” He sounded so sincere, he was convincing himself. Maybe the truth was that arguing with her, getting under her skin, and picking her apart was exhausting and he didn’t like feeling like the worst version of himself around her. He was so confused. So confused. He hated this perfect princess exterior she put on, but he disliked being an asshole more.

“You really want to help me?” She could hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he dropped his hand from her chin and her hip, taking a step away from her, “Tomorrow morning, meet me at the stables.”

With that, he turned away and found his way back to his bedchambers. Harry really needed to decompress.

______________

The next morning, Harry found her in the stables. She had gotten there before him and was waiting by Freya’s stall. Brad wasn’t there quite yet. It was so early, the sun was just starting to poke through the horizon. 

Colors of red, pink, and gold reflected from his skin as he approached her, and Y/N noted that the colors peaking from the horizon were almost as beautiful as him. While the sun rise was beautiful, it was not nearly as beautiful as him.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked, walking up to where she leaned against Freya’s stall.

“I’m ready,” she explained.

They had spent hours talking about how to form a bond with a horse, how to treat a horse, and where not to stand when around a horse. They talked about how to saddle a horse up, how to put the bit in a horse’s mouth without injuring yourself or the animal you need to be taking care of. Harry was actually a very good teacher. He wasn’t pushing her out of her comfort zone, he wasn’t belittling her for the things she was taught when she was younger but forgot how to maneuver. Harry even brought up what Brad had said about her having panic attacks when she was too close to horses, and told her that if she was feeling anxious to let him know, they could find a spot where she felt safe. Overall, working with him wasn’t too bad.

Y/N tried not to talk about the incident that made her so fearful of horses to begin with, and as much as Harry wanted to know why she was so afraid of them, he didn’t want to push and pry. He knew what it was like when people pushed their way into your personal space, and it was his biggest pet peeve, so he wasn’t going to subject her to something he hated deep in his bones.

Brad was surprised the first day when he came in, and saw Y/N, with shaky hands, petting on Freya. Freya seemed to enjoy it, and Harry stabilized her shaky arm as she reached in the window of the stall and pet her, whispering small encouragements in her ear. He was standing directly behind her, the front of his body pressed to her back as she reached in.

“Good girl,” Harry said, his fingers clutched around her elbow to combat the shakiness in her arm.

“She is a rather good girl,” Y/N said, touching the softness on Freya’s nose.

“No,” Harry laughed out, his fingers still gently holding her elbow steady, “I was talking about you. You’re being a very good girl.”

Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but chose to say nothing, and much to her good luck, Brad had finally showed up for the day, amazed at how Harry stood there with Y/N and held her from behind as she touched Freya.

“Wow,” Brad said, dropping some of the grain he was holding into the stall next to Freya’s, “You’re doing very well, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t think she could handle all the compliments, so she redirected the attention to Harry, “It’s all him. He's a great teacher.”

“I bet he is,” Brad shot a look toward Harry, a smirk forming on the edges of both their mouths. It made Y/N wonder if they actually had some sort of relationship like Harry hinted at the night he told her he was going to bed Brad in order to spite her. “I just hope you don’t have nightmares tonight.”

“Nightmares?” Harry’s grip around her elbow tightened, pulling her arm out of Freya’s stall and letting Y/N’s arm fall to her side. “What does he mean?”

Y/N turned around, and threw a scowl in Brad’s direction. Her back pressed against the stall door as she let a sheepish smile appear on her face when she turned all her attention toward Harry. “I used to have nightmares about the incident.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a hardline, a serious look glossed in his eyes. “If you start having nightmares again, tell me. Please.”

“I will.”

______________

Y/N didn’t know what to do about the dreams she was having regarding Harry. It seemed that every single night her dreams of Harry were becoming more and more graphic. The first night she dreamt of him was the first night he was in the palace, and she dreamt of what his lips felt like on hers. 

The second time she dreamt of him, she dreamt of the ways his hands felt around her body, and ever since then she had been having that same dream of him, over and over again. He would start by kissing her neck and touching her all over, calling her sweet names, and making her cry out in pleasure.

Every morning she woke up feeling debauched, and when she would meet Harry at the stables in the morning, she tried her best to not let the emotion flood her face. Sometimes she was scared that he could just look at her and know she was having inappropriate dreams about him.

A week had passed of her spending time with Harry. She learned about his favorite food, what he loved about his own kingdom, and even found out that the Marigold flower was native to his kingdom. 

“You kind of remind me of a Marigold.” Harry said softly.

“Why is that?” She looked over at him, as he began putting the bit on Freya. Y/N wasn’t ready to ride yet, but today she was going to walk Freya along the property with Harry to get used to her holding the lead rope in her hand.

“They’re bright and beautiful,” Harry buckled the bit, pulling the lead rope through as he spoke to Y/N, “A lot like you.”

“I think we’ve come a long way,” Y/N noted, grabbing the lead rope with shaky fingers when Harry handed it to her.

When Harry realized that her fingers were shaking and her eyes were nervously glancing around, he grabbed the lead rope back from her and began walking Freya out of the barn and toward a trail nearby, “I’ll walk her for now. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

They walked together, talking about the most random things and getting to know each other. Y/N couldn’t believe she didn’t like Harry at first. Fine, he was slightly annoying, and when she thought about how she was technically still being blackmailed it made her a little furious, but when he was being so pleasant and lovely, she tried not to think of those things. 

On top of all that, how could she say she still disliked him when she was dreaming of him every single night?

“Why don’t you try holding the lead rope as we walk, and I’ll hold your hand over it?” He suggested, coming to a stop in the middle of the trail. As much as he liked walking Freya, he did want Y/N to make some progress. 

“I think I can do that,” Y/N agreed, grabbing the rope in her hand and locking it securely between her fingers. Her hand wasn’t on the rope for even two seconds before Harry threw his hand around hers and gave her a look that she knew said I’m here for you. 

Her heart nearly skipped a beat as his hand enveloped hers and his eyes brought comfort to her hammering heart. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined how his lips would taste— probably sickeningly sweet. She thought of the way he might moan against her, like he did in her dream. The vibrations flooding through her, feeling like pure ecstasy.

What the hell was she doing?

______________

Y/N thought back to the first night Harry had been to the palace. That night, she had a dream of Harry pressing his lips against hers. The more time she spent with Harry, the more she dreamt about him at night, and as the days passed, the more graphic they got. 

Today wasn’t the first time she had woken up with a puddle between her legs due to a steamy dream she had about Harry, though, it was the first time she had reached her climax in her sleep and she couldn’t help the shame that picked away inside her.

Quickly, she cleaned herself off and began putting on her riding clothes to meet Harry in the stables. 

______________

This morning, Y/N could barely look Harry in the eye, and he wondered why that was. They had been working together for a little over two weeks now, and she was growing much more comfortable with him each day. Actually, it was rather frustrating for him to find out that he somewhat enjoyed spending time with her. She was kind of funny, a little sweet, and overall, easy to teach. 

“Will you tell me why you can’t look at me today?” Harry grinned at her, and noted the way she dropped her gaze from his eyes back down to her hands, an emotion he couldn’t quite place lingering on her features. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled out, still refusing to meet his eyes. This might actually drive him crazy.

“Tell me, darling,” Harry reached for the water that was sitting atop Freya’s stall door, and began taking a few sips, his eyes still locked on Y/N, waiting for her to explain. Sooner or later, she would tell him. She was quite bad at keeping secrets.

“Did you actually take Brad to bed?” Y/N still didn’t look up at him.

Harry choked on his water; that was the last thing he expected Y/N to say to him. “Why do you think that?”

“You told me you were going to take him to bed the night you told me you wanted to be my friend,” Y/N recalled.

“I did say that,” Harry hummed out, placing the water back atop the door of the horse stall before moving toward her, “No, I did not take him to bed.”

“Do you want to… You know? Do you like him in that way?” Y/N was trying to avoid certain words, too shy to actually say what she was thinking, and the shyness in her tone was enough to make Harry’s knees almost buckle.

“I think he’s handsome, Y/N, but I would not hurt your feelings like that,” Harry explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“So you only like him, then? That is why you would not marry the Duchess?” Y/N had so many questions rifling through her mind, she didn’t know where to begin.

Realization dawned on Harry’s face, “I have a preference for both, Y/N. I do find men attractive, but I find women attractive too.”

“Oh okay,” Y/N nodded her head, “I’m sorry I was just thinking of that night and how maybe you and Brad—”

“That’s so naughty, Y/N.” He took a couple steps toward her, reminding her of the night he told her he would teach her how to ride. There was only a small gap between them, the front of his chest pressed to the front of her chest, but this time, there was a wooden wall behind her and if he only took one more small step, she would be pressed against the wooden wall in the barn and the front of Harry’s bodice. She was so depraved.

Harry’s voice was full of teasing, but Y/N was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she thought he was chastising her, “I’m sorry, Harry! Not like that!”

“Darling, I’m only teasing you,” Harry’s grin was contagious, Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her lips, “Now won’t you tell me a secret? I’ve given you one of mine.”

Y/N didn’t even think about it before blurting out, “I wish I knew what it was like to be kissed.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his hand pressed against the wooden wall, trapping Y/N between his body and the wall (still offering her a way out from the position on his left). All he needed to do was bend down and connect his lips to hers and she would know what it’s like, but he would never do it without asking first. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I would like that,” she breathed.

So, he would give her what she wanted. In the matter of seconds, his knee was positioned in between her legs, almost touching her center. His head had swooped down so his lips were just a few centimeters from her own, and his eyes were full of peer lust. Without much thought, he pressed his lips against her gentle ones, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip, begging for her to open up for him and let him in. Though, Y/N didn’t understand the cue, and Harry understood that since this is her first time being kissed, she wouldn’t know the trick of sliding your tongue against someone’s bottom lip and what that was asking for.

Gently, he brought his lips to her chin and pulled down ever so slightly, parting her lips and allowing access to her mouth. It was the most pleasant noise he had ever heard, the moan that vibrated into his mouth and warmed his muscles. The blood was flowing to his cheeks, his heart rate quickening and pumping the blood through his body, and straight to his cock. Honestly, if they didn’t stop kissing, he might actually come in his pants, so he pulled away, leaving her breathless and hot.

“How was that?” He asked.

“I think I liked it a lot,” she panted out, pressing her legs together and Harry knew the signs of that all too well, but decided not to comment on it.

“We can do it again sometime.” He shrugged, removing his hand from the wall and taking a few steps back.

“O-okay.” She muttered.

Y/N was feeling things she had never known were possible.

______________

Harry’s lips were pressed against her neck, his hands wandering to the waistband of her underwear before looping his fingers around the elastic and pulling them down her legs. Before she even had time to process what was going on, he was gently laying her against the bed, but they weren’t in her room… No, she didn’t know where they were, and for a moment she was dissecting the bedchamber and all its decor until Harry’s thumb found its way to her clit and one of his fingers sunk into her, rubbing against the button that had her back arching off of the bed.

“Oh,” she gasped out, her breathing becoming erratic with each stroke. “Please, Harry. Please…”

In this scenario, she didn’t feel ashamed for calling out his name, for begging for his fingers. Harry had positioned himself so that he was on top of her, one hand holding him up so that he good get a good look at her face (in this scenario, he liked to watch the way her nose scrunched when she hit her climax) while his hand worked her clit and flicked against her g-spot. 

“Don’t worry, darling girl,” he leaned down, his lips pressed against her lips as he spoke, “I’m going to get you there.”

She couldn’t help it, she needed him so badly. When he pulled his fingers out and inserted another, expanding the space inside her, she arched her back off the bed and bucked her hips into his hand begging for more friction than he was supplying her with.

“Don’t be greedy, love.” He found a different position so he could use one hand to pin her hips to the bed, and the other one to tease her with his fingers. “You need help orgasming, darling?”

“Harry, I need help!”

“Y/N!” Harry shook her shoulders, causing her whole body to shake as her eyes opened to reveal a panicked Harry peering down at her.

It took a moment for her to understand what was going on, but when she looked at her surroundings which were dimly lit by candles, Y/N realized that she was in her bedchamber, and no longer in the bedchamber in her dream, and Harry had pulled the chair sitting in the corner of her room to the side of her bed.

A dream. It was just another dream. And it took a moment before she realized that Harry was here, waking her from her dream frantically.

“Harry,” she breathed out, and though he heard the breathiness in her tone as a sigh of relief, for Y/N she was coming down from the orgasm she just had in her sleep. In front of Harry. “What are you doing here?”

“Baby, you were having a nightmare. You’ve been screaming my name,” he tucked a strand of hair that was coated in sweat behind her ear, and she noted the softness in his voice, a guilty feeling ripping through her.

Actually, his voice wasn’t the only thing soft about him. Harry was still sporting sleepwear, white linen pajama pants and a matching button top. His curls which were normally assorted and crisp looking flopped against his forehead, and she couldn’t help but notice the way he stroked his thumb against her head whispering sweet nicknames he had never called her before, but what she really couldn’t stand was the guilt and worry flooding those cloverfield eyes of his.

“I—” she went to explain that she wasn’t having a nightmare, but before she had a chance to get the words out, he was telling her what happened.

“They came and got me. Dorothea told me this is the fifth consecutive night you’ve been screaming my name, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me the lessons weren’t working, and they were putting you in such a bad place. I didn’t want this for you, baby,” Harry continued to stroke his thumb against her head, this time lowering his hand so that his thumb was stroking along her lips which wasn’t helping the sticky wetness pooling in her panties and the ache in her lower belly.

Y/N, filled with shame at the guilt in his eyes and the crude dreams she’s been having, tried to find her voice, “Wasn’t having a nightmare.”

“What do you mean, darling? You were screaming my name, asking for help?” 

In response, Y/N only pulled the edge of her blanket closer to her chest, tucking herself away from him.

It took Harry only two seconds to understand, “Oh?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, dropping her head and inching away from the touch of his fingers.

“No!” He exclaimed, hooking his fingers around her arm as she tried to scoot to the other side of the bed, “Don’t be sorry. There is no need for that, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, so she nodded and expected him to get up and leave her to her own devices.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I just didn’t take you for a beggar, darling girl.”

It could have been the nickname, the same one dream Harry had given her as he brought her to her climax or the fact that he was calling her a beggar but she couldn’t help the heat that flooded through her cheeks as she averted her gaze from his, “Stop!”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, and Y/N noted the way his fingers that were once tracing circled over her cheeks and then rubbing against her lips were now touching and grasping at her arm, like he had to be in constant contact with her. “You should never be embarrassed of what your body naturally desires.”

“Easy for you to say,” she scooted closer to him, back to where she was before she began inching away, “You’ve never been embarrassed.”

“I have. The first time I ever let someone touch me, I reached my orgasm in my trousers,” he began, offering her a questioning glance to ask if this is okay? When she nodded, letting him know he could climb into her bed, probably against her better judgment, he stood from the chair and put his knee on the bed. Before she knew it, he was putting his knee over her, straddling her momentarily, then found his way to the other side of her bed, so that they were laying side-by-side. Y/N couldn’t help the way heat filled her cheeks, tearing at the tiny tendrils of muscle throughout her body and igniting a fire from deep within her abdomen. How could she think straight when she was dripping with need, her body begging for some sort of release. 

Harry continued what he was saying once he was in a comfortable position next to her, but Y/N had trouble listening to his words when the only thing she could focus on was regulating her breaths, “That was pretty embarrassing. The second time I was embarrassed was the first time I met you, and you were standing there looking so beautiful and perfect, I tripped over my words. The third time I felt embarrassed was when I read your letter in the office and you expressed that my actions were not that of a gentleman, and you were right.”

She didn’t know what to say, only that she was burning with desire and needed him as close to her as possible. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You’ve got me all soft tonight. I was under the impression you were having nightmares because you were too nervous to tell me you didn’t want to continue with lessons. I am cruel, Y/N, you have always been right about that, but I am not a monster,” his words were honest and true, something he would probably regret tomorrow, “Believe it or not, I never wanted to give you nightmares.”

“You haven’t given me nightmares,” Y/N was used to feeling shame around Harry, even though she could cover it quickly by hurling a snarky comment toward him.

“You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that your dreams about me are nothing but good… I would like to rectify the situation for you.”

“Rectify the situation?” Y/N was beginning to feel even more confused than when she woke up in her bedchamber with Harry’s fingers wrapped around her shoulder, waking her from her vivid dream.

“Yes,” he breathed, turning his body so he was laying directly parallel to her, “Would you like me to take care of you?”

“I… I would like that,” her fingers held the quilt tighter to her chest, not quite sure if this was going to be a mean joke to toy with her and then laugh about it later.

“Do you trust me?” His eyebrow raised, knowing her answer without her even needing to speak the words.

“Not… particularly,” her breathing was becoming more rapid as the conversation took such a sultry turn.

“If you don’t trust me, I can’t make you feel good, darling.” He tried to reason with her, and as much as he wanted to run his hands over her sides and touch her all over, he knew he couldn’t do that. Not while he was trying to gain her trust.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said quietly, barely audible.

“I know,” he agreed, “We are going to take it slow. You are safe with me.”

And Y/N didn’t know if it was the look in eyes, or if it was because of the fact he rushed to her bedchamber when someone woke him up from his peaceful slumber to come comfort her from her “bad dream,” but in this moment, she really felt as though she could trust him. On top of that, he knew her biggest fear, and never let her feel uncomfortable when he was teaching her how to ride, so why shouldn’t she trust him?

“I feel safe,” she told him and expressed her limits, “I trust you. No mean words, Harry.”

“No, baby, only praise for how well you’re doing.” 

Those three little words, the innocence in her eyes, and the way she clung to her blanket for a security measure could have sent Harry into a downward spiral. He tried to compose himself, tried to contain himself, because he knew he had to take it slow with her. He propped himself up so that he could loop his hands around where she clutched her blanket so tightly. “Have to relax, darling.”

She took in a few deep breaths, just how he taught her when she was trying something new, and her body released the tension as she made eye contact with him. Something about Harry was so contradictory. How could he make her feel so guarded and upset, but also make her feel so safe in her most vulnerable moments. As her grip loosened from the blanket, he asked if it was okay for him to remove it, to expose her body only dressed in her white nightgown. When she murmured a small yes, he peeled the blanket from her body. Cool air encompassed her, and she hadn’t realized just how hot she’d been under the blanket.

Y/N used her elbows to prop herself up, leaning back against the pillows, giving herself a full view as she sat up right, and Harry took this moment to lean back, so his upper body was still parallel to hers, but he still had enough room to use his fingers to work her to the brink of her orgasm. Fortunately for her, he was reading the situation thoroughly, checking for the signs that she wasn’t ready and verbally communicating with her to make sure she was feeling okay.

“How are you feeling, love?” Small touches is what he started with, using the arm that he wasn’t propped up on to trace heart shapes (though, Y/N couldn’t tell what shape he was making) with his forefinger around the bare skin of her hip.

“Feeling good,” her words were breathy, making his cock twitch in his pants, “I’m ready for you.”

Harry let out a small chuckle, his eyes glancing between both of her eyes as he spoke, “We’re going to take it very slow. I’m gonna teach you about pleasure, darling, with my fingers. How does that sound?”

“With your fingers?” She hated how demure it sounded, how underprepared and unknowledgeable the words sounded coming from her.

“Yes. With my fingers first,” he trailed his fingers from her hip, to her lower abdomen until he was over the cotton of her panties, feeling the wetness seep through, “You’re so wet, it feels like you’ve already reached your pinnacle. Did you?”

Sheepishly, she nodded. Though she may not know what it felt like when she was awake, she knew the signs when she woke up from a dream about him. Typically, she was as wet as she is now, a sticky feeling between her legs. “In my sleep.”

“Christ,” he breathed, pulling her panties to the side, but not taking them completely off in an effort to make her not feel so exposed. First, he used his thumb to touch her clit, using small circular motions at a very steady pace. When her breathing picked up once more, and small guttural moans fell from her lips in encouragement for him, he picked up the pace. Harry couldn’t help it, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against her own as he continued to rub in circular motions. Her back arched from the bed, his lips still on hers as he swallowed the noises she was making against him, and her mind was spinning with absolute desire. Pure bliss is what she felt, her flesh hot with each touch as he continued to work her most sensitive spot while his lips moved against hers. She didn’t know she could feel this… Good. In her dreams she was a sweaty, whiny, mess, but in this experience. In this very, very real experience, she couldn’t hold back the whines or the way her back kept arching into his touch. It was a complete parallel to the way she felt in her dreams, the way dream Harry took care of her and the way real Harry was taking care of her now was so similar.

____

Harry’s mind was a whirlwind of emotion; he loved the way he was making her come undone beneath his fingers. While his thumb worked her clit, he slipped his middle finger in, the cool gold of his rings making her gasp against his mouth, and he took this moment to slick his tongue over her bottom lip and find his way into her mouth. Her mouth was warm, tasting of sweet fruit and honey… She was everything he could ever desire, and he hated the way he crumpled beneath her. She made him feel so out of control, but in this very moment, he had all the power. For a second, he removed his lips, staring down at her with her eyes shut. Her ribcage flared with each breath, her chest heaved as small whimpers tumbled from her lips with his name somewhere in the mix.

As soon as he found that spot inside of her, the spot he knew could make a woman buckle at the knees, she was finding her release and rocking against her hand. Normally, he would tell his partner to stop riding his hand to control the situation, to make them so pent up with frustration and desire that they could barely stand it. He loved to see tears form in his partner's eyes due to overstimulation and pure desire, but this time around, he just wanted her to feel good and comfortable as she reached her climax. This was a vulnerable moment for her, and he didn’t want her to remember it by looking back and thinking about how he wouldn’t let her cum… No, she was being such a good girl for him, rocking against him with such a politeness as she whimpered small pleases and thank you’s that he didn’t want to reprimand her for feeling what she was feeling. In fact, he decided she needed a good reminder.

“You’re being such a good girl, Y/N. So good for me,” as soon as those words filled her ears, her walls began pulsing around his fingers and he knew she was about to reach the brink of the universe, so he continued to encourage her, “Let it out, baby.”

“T-thank you,” she said, clutching the sheets in her hands as her back arched from the bed, and she clenched once more around his fingers, drenching his hand, his wrist, and the end of his pajama sleeves. 

“So polite, darling,” Harry noted as her hips thrusted up once more, riding out her orgasm on his hand. Once she was completely fucked out against his hand, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to maintain eye contact with him, and when Harry brough his hands coated in her arousal to his mouth and licked them clean, another wave of arousal shot down her spine.

“Is it your turn?” She asked him, barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Not tonight, darling,” his hands found their way to the quilt, covering her up with the blanket so she wouldn’t get cold after she fell asleep. Normally, he would clean his partner up before allowing them to get cozy in bed, but the thought of making her get out of bed and wash up felt too evil as she could barely keep her eyes open.

“When?” She muttered, eyes still closed, “I want to.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, Y/N.” He lifted himself off the bed, and she mumbled a small okay as he walked out of the room.

Harry was so fucked.

[lking-creation-hub]

So I'm replaying Slay the Princess now that the Pristine Cut is out, starting with a quick run of the game mostly to get the Stranger's ending in the heart of the Princess. Somehow that was the first Ending I found in my first playthrough of the original game, and I wanted to recreate it in this new 'universe' and keep a save file with her there right next to the original save file, before I go back and comb through for new content, so I was playing through a first run pretty quickly (and still somehow got to the new Damsel content, those who have seen it will know).

I'll admit I cried a lot of times in my first playthough, and I know I would probably cry again in this one. Maybe not at the same places, but probably the new content.

But even in my first playthrough, when I cried, I kept going. But just now I've come up on one line that made me have to fully stop for a few minutes (which is what I'm doing now, processing by posting this). I don't know if this line was in the original version, I think I would have remembered it, but...

(Spoilers below)

In response to the Princess saying 'It took courage for you to make your way down here, away from the paths others would have had you walk. We find that courage beautiful,' The Contrarian says this:

And something about that line damn near broke me just now. I could (and maybe will) go on a huge ramble about how heartbreaking it is for the seemingly-confident and seemingly-lighthearted Contrarian to so casually describe himself as 'the worst part of us', as if that's a fact. I'm genuinely sobbing at that thought, partly because I do relate to it. He has such a factual tone when he describes himself as just completely bad, the 'worst part of us' in his entirety, and god I know how much it hurts to think of yourself like that, to believe that every part of yourself is awful and makes things worse. This was the last character I'd expect to relate on that, but it adds so much depth to him.

And past that, the complete compassion in the Princess calling that part of them beautiful. The idea that these things we look at in ourselves and hate can be held with such compassion by someone else. I just can't describe how light and kind of overwhelmed it feels. Like I'm still typing mostly because I don't think I'm ready to go back into the game and see the next line. The game is still sitting on the screen I have screenshot above, because this scene is just so overwhelmingly beautiful to me that I actually need a break to process it (in the MOST complimentary way, of course).

@blacktabbygames You nailed it the first time around and from what little I've played of the Pristine Cut you've somehow improved on what I had previously considered a perfect game. I can't wait to explore all of the rest of it (and probably pick up Scarlet Hollow after I've fully explored Slay the Princess).

[icannothink123]

Why den is both not purely an animal and can consent.

There alot of textual evidence but if that’s too long here some other form of offical evidence.

Mod statements

Ofifcal dev statements

Before you say “this is fake” or anything else here the link.

Now if you somehow still aren’t convince here the textual evidence and of course major spoilers below

Skeptic (aka lure) Den.

For this case it’s shows some of the clearest case of her humanity.

First of all to get the Tower out of the room the eyes.

If you say “oh it’s just the narrator interpretation” this is textually incorrect as shown below

You think narrator, the guy who literally calls her an animal moments later and is shown a constant horrible hatred of princesses. Would interpret her eyes as saying something so humanizing when that’s the exact opposite of what he wants you to see her as?

Even hero calls this out as shown below

Narrator reply is this

Which shows this isn’t just “just the narrator interpretation” it’s actual factual truth.

Now you may say “she kills you if you flinch! She’s an animals” she is a traumatized reactive woman. As seen in proto beast (stabbing her) how you killed her was by a sudden movement, another sudden moment like flinching might give her a trauma reaction and plus let’s not forget she’s starving and scared.

(Edit)

While you might say her acting on base instincts proves how much of an animal she is but it doesn’t. Often times when in dangerous situations, without much time to think people fall back into instincts behaving animistically, but this doesn’t make them animals.

But it’s states best by this user on discord.

i will add you can be sentient while also reacting to things instinctually. no one acts like the hunted isn't sentient because of his instincts. plus she is genuinely starving in this chapter. she is essentially feral in a lot of ways but in the same way humans can be feral. it's a very human response to extreme stress and trauma to lash out, become unable to speak, fall back on ingrained habits and patterns i.e. attacking someone because they've hurt you or you feel you need to hurt them, etc. she just gets more dangerous limbs to lash out with than a static human would. acting solely on instinct (even instincts that aren't typically human especially for literally not a human) when running on systems designed to force those instinctual reactions (fight or flight mode, trauma, etc) does not remove one's sentience, and you can literally have conversations with her, like if you both get trapped separately under the rubble and she asks if it's her fault you both ended up like this and fully comprehends your varying responses

- logical_leaf in BTG discord [routes and spoilers; The Den.]

Now for freeing her, when you get trapped for yourself what do you guess this ‘animal’ does?

Leave you to die?

No.

She returns for you.

Any animal would have taken the opportunity to leave you behind but she doesn’t. She in fact acutally frees you.

Stubborn (aka fight) Den.

Now you may think stubborn den where you fight her and even descend into madness would prove she is nothing more than an animal but this does the exact opposite.

First of all the shame.

In both cases where you either embrace instinct or take the opening she feels not fear but shame, and over what she have done specifically.

now before you go “well dogs and other animals can feel shame” no they cannot.

Shame is as stated by dictionary (.com) is

the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another:

Shame ususally in context comes from feeling you did something wrong and or morally dubious.

Animal have neither of these concepts when say a dog breaks something it’s not shame there feeling it’s fear your going to hurt them, they don’t have a concept morality right or wrong.

Plus even if hypothetically animals could feel shame, what is den feeling shame for?

“What have we done?”

This is stated after violently or repeatly violently murdering each other and even if animals could feel shame I highly doubt any animal would feel shame for… Acting on instinct/engaging in other animalistic behaviors like consumption and violence.

This stems from a point of humanity and if she truly lost her humanity at this point she wouldn’t feel any of that, at best she would probably be upset she didn’t win or wasn’t able to kill what she thought was easy prey.

Now to answer some common arguments against this.

“Well she looks like an animal! So she is an animal and you are a zoo for liking animals!”

Please share where are the giant winged lions are irl and where can I fine them?/J

But I’m underage so I’ll rather not even humor this

Abby straight up said everything in this game was made to be hot so take it up to her for giving a ‘lion’ a snatched waist.

“Well you could get your face bitten off!”

Let’s see what else can happen?

Cut into a trillion pieces

Beaten to death

Disemboweled and tortured for millions of years

crushed by vines

Tortured via chains

Forced to kill yoirself

And alot more

In the grand scheme of things beast/den are actually safer than most princesses when it comes to dating.

Plus people often times fine all of those hot, so what’s wrong with anyone else being attracted to the fact you could be murdered at any time and at her mercy?

And before you say anything please don’t assume I want to fuck beast or den, some others might but bringing it up makes me deeply uncomfortable.

That’s it guys byeeee!

[dilatorywriting]

Congratulations on 4K!!!! Here's to many more who discover and fall in love with your incredible prose 🍻

I'd like to request:

86. “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.”

With Prince Stefan (surprise, surprise) if the mood strikes you lmao

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, and for doing this little event!! Can't wait to see what you've cooked up next weekend 👀

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 1.1k

Prompt 86: "We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You’d always joked that Stefan was basically like some fairytale prince come to life. The sweetness that never seemed forced, the genuine kindness and care with which he treated all things. His regal bearing, the fact that he rode a grand, impressive stallion with ease, and—who could forget?—the literal crimson cape hanging over his shoulders like a king of old. The face thing helped too. All sculpted planes of rugged handsome that made you feel like you’d wandered out of a garbage can in a back alleyway in comparison.

But somehow, even then, you hadn’t expected him to be an actual, factual prince. Which was honestly really fucking stupid, all things considered. Seeing as half of your friends at Night Raven had royalty in their blood in some way or other. ‘Prince’ and ‘Lord’ were nearly as common as ‘Mister’ over there. And certainly Royal Sword Academy was meant to be doomed by the same logic as its rival.

“So you’ll be ruling a kingdom someday?” you asked. “Like, crown, and scepter, and ‘my word is law, peasants’ ruling?”

“I guess,” Stefan shrugged, brown bangs flopping shaggily over his eyes. “Though I like to think I won’t be that bad,” he added on a huff that was nearly a pout.

You waved him off. “Sure, sure. You’ll be the one person in history completely untouched by the temptations and corruption of power. But like, an actual prince?”

Another huff, though this one sounded far more amused. The brunette leaned forward to try and snare an arm around your waist and pull you back against his chest. You’d been sitting cuddled up beneath a lovely willow tree, reading in the afternoon sun, when the revelation had hit. And the poor guy looked like he’d sacrifice life and limb to slip back into that cozy silence. But no way were you letting this drop. You wriggled away like a particularly determined worm and settled opposite him criss-cross-applesauce. Hands on your knees and stars in your eyes.

“Do you get access to the dungeons? And cool stuff like that?”

He snorted a laugh into his palm.

“Why do you want to know about the dungeons?”

You shrugged. But honestly, most of your friends at NRC were probably headed for the gulags or worse. It’d be nice to know you had someone on the inside, whenever you inevitably needed to break one of them out. (Floyd was looking like a strong bet. Though he could probably manage to slither out of any jailcell he found himself in all on his own)

“It’d be fun, s’all.”

“Fun,” he chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. “Alright. But yes. I do have access to all the records of imprisonment and things like that. Not that I go down to those places if I can help it.”

“Of course, of course,” you nodded, filing that information away into the back of your brain for a later date. “Can you declare war? Like, whenever you want?”

Another laugh.

“Wars and dungeons?” he asked, and narrowed his hazel eyes in faux suspicion. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure,” he hummed, and ducked forward to try and snatch you up again. You rolled onto your back outright and through the grass—coming to a stop at the roots of the grand tree.

“And what about the rest of the royal stuff?” you continued. “Surely you must be engaged then, right? To another prince or princess out there?”

The pleasant gleam in his eyes dimmed, and you watched his gaze dart away. Heavy and uncomfortable. Which—

Oh.

He… he totally was, wasn’t he?

Something twisted in your gut—sour and sharp. And you regretted ever asking in the first place. Because of course someone as wonderful as Stefan was meant for someone else. And always had been. The dalliance with a little mortal from another world was just that—something fun, and easy, and destined to end by the summer. You swallowed past the building lump in your throat and decided that maybe this hadn’t been a great topic to push after all. You looked back up, ready to crawl back into his lap and ever so tactfully immediately change the subject, when Stefan met your low gaze with fire in his eyes. He reached out and clasped your hands tightly in his.

“I’m going to marry who I want,” he declared, firm, and loud enough it had your ears ringing. He gentled the volume a bit before continuing. “That stuff’s all ancient protocol, anyways. Time to move on, y’know? Modernize.”

“Modernize,” you parroted, feeling a bit thrown by his sudden ferocity.

“And if my father gets upset…” he mumbled, brow pinching in the middle. “Well, we can just run away then. Live in a cottage in the forest. Or, well, something like that.”

“We?” you gaped. Because holy hell. It was one thing for there maybe to be some subtle implications thrown around. But that wasn’t—that was pretty—ah—

“We,” he smiled, warm as mulled wine. And at your wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression, he eased that grin back into something lighter. More teasing. “What do you think? We could be like the forbidden lovers in all those stories!” he crooned, waving his arm through the air like he was at the start of telling some grand tale in a tavern. “An epic novel of our own creation! Like Romeo and Juliet!”

That jolted you out of whatever ‘ohmygod, ohmygod’ spiral had taken over your brain. “Really? Romeo and Juliet?”

“Well,” he grinned, sheepish. “Without the ending, I hope.”

“There are so many better love stories without the suicide pact!” you complained. “Pride and Prejudice. Midsummer’s Night Dream. The Princess Bride. Fucking, Scott Pilgrim even—”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get it! No more literary metaphors from me.”

Stefan leaned back against the tree, looking loose limbed and comfortable. And this time, when he opened his arms to you with a little eyebrow waggle, you sighed and curled up tight into the little, personal nook he was offering.

“But it does have it’s appeal, doesn’t it?” he mumbled into your hair. Sounding a bit far away. “Just running away together. No more responsibilities, no expectations…” he trailed off, eyelids drooping. “It’d be nice.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting the sun play across your laps and his fingers twine through yours. And then—

“Anastasia.”

“Hmm?” he mused, lifting his head from your shoulder.

“We can be like Anastasia,” you said, fighting the heat rising along your cheeks and towards the tips of your ears. But you were pretty sure he could feel it, with how close he was tucked up against your side. “Not a perfect ending, but a perfect beginning,” you quoted, feeling a bit silly.

But Stefan just smiled against your shoulder with a contented little sigh.

“A perfect beginning, huh?” he repeated, sounding far, far too warm. “That sounds about right.”

.

.

[changbunnies]

Piece of a Puzzle (18+)

♡ Pairing: Duke’s Son!Seungmin x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: royal au, fake dating, angst, fluff, love triangle, best friends to fake lovers to real lovers, so much pining from seungmin, slow burn-ish?, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 20.6k (lmao it was not supposed to be this long...)

♡ Summary: For as long as Seungmin can remember, he’s been in love with you; and for as long as he can remember, you’ve been in love with Hyunjin. Desperate for Hyunjin to see you as a woman and no longer as a best friend or metaphorical sister, you ask Seungmin to pretend to be your boyfriend to make him jealous- you have nothing to lose, and nothing could go wrong! At least, that’s what you both think until your fake relationship with Seungmin begins to reveal feelings for you that he wanted to keep buried, and feelings in you that you didn't realize you had.

♡ Warnings: i know some people hate love triangles so if that is you then this fic is not for you i am sorry gsddgfd, i also wouldn't read this if you're not okay with characters who make mistakes and act selfishly lol, seungmin says mean things but it's all in the spirit of teasing and banter and he is not actually a mean person i promise, mentions of falling in freezing water, being sick + taking medicine, and reader makes 1 joke about killing seungmin.

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): virgin reader + virgin seungmin, loss of virginity, no intended d/s dynamics but reader is usually the one taking the lead lol, lots of kissing per usual, handjob, nipple play, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: it took me forever to come back to this series but the next member to get their royal au fic is seungmin <3 unlike my previous royal au fics, this one is in a modern setting which i hope makes for a fun dynamic and is a good change of pace from my other aus ! 

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

If you were to ask Seungmin what his favorite thing about having two best friends was, it would've been how special it was to be a trio. You, Seungmin, Hyunjin– the three of you inseparable since you were babies, spending hours giving the attendants and guards watching over you trouble, getting into snowball fights in the winter and camping out in the gardens during the summer.

Countless days spent splashing around in the lakes and ponds near your estates and coming back with muddied feet, making messes in the kitchens when you disastrously tried to figure out how to bake a cake for your upcoming birthday, and giggling to each other even as your elders got red in the face from scolding you.

It was perfect, really– the happiest days of Seungmin's life, all spent in carefree bliss.. until you all started to get older. It was all so mindless when you were children; all Seungmin ever really comprehended back then was that you were all of similar age, and becoming friends was a natural and perfect arrangement thanks to your parents (who Seungmin realized were all important people, though he was too young at the time to understand why or how.)

You, the princess in the east, Hyunjin, the prince in the west, and Seungmin, the duke's son born in the middle of both territories, whose father allied himself to both nations and was a revered peacekeeper.

He can still remember fondly the nights before it all became so different; when you'd have guard sanctioned sleepovers in the ballroom, how you'd run and splash in the rain, your laughter carrying even as the three of you became soaked and eventually scolded for dripping water onto the pristine castle floors.

You'd slip out of royal events to go hangout together on the balconies, in the library, or anywhere really, as long as it wasn't full to the brim with your pretentious elders talking politics and future marriage.

But Seungmin made the mistake of falling in love with you, and you fell in love with Hyunjin, and that's where it all falls apart.

The situation is dramatic, you're dramatic– the way you whine and flail on the bed, claims of how you'll "just die" if Hyunjin doesn't finally realize you're the woman of his dreams. Seungmin sits across from you on your chaise near the balcony of your extravagant bedroom, trying not to react too strongly one way or the other. As the only person you can confide in on this topic, Seungmin is used to hearing you pour your heart out to him about Hyunjin.

He likes to think he's used to it, anyways; that it doesn't hurt anymore because he simply doesn't let it, but any outsider looking in would be able to tell that isn't true. His smile falters, his bright eyes dull, his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach– because you will never love him with the same intensity you love Hyunjin.

But it's been this way for years now; you are hopelessly in love with the prince of the neighboring country, while Seungmin is tragically in love with you. He really should just get over it already.

You've gone on and on and on about how Hyunjin is the ideal man– beautiful, educated, kind, dependable, artistic; everything Seungmin feels he cannot compare to. It's so pathetic, he feels pathetic; he never even put much thought on being of equal standing to the two of you until you started confiding in him about your feelings for Hyunjin, pouring out your heart and simultaneously breaking his with each new admission.

Seungmin himself didn't even realize how in love with you he was until he was firmly faced with rejection; and it's almost funny how he's rejected before he can even try.

"I just want him to like, finally see me as a woman, y'know? I'm not the little girl you guys grew up with anymore!" you wail before shoving your face into one of your many pillows, huffing and whining in frustration as you kick your feet up and down.

Apparently, you have come to find out that Hyunjin still views you as more of a sister than a potential lover, and you've spent the entire afternoon whining as you try to think of what else you can possibly do to make Hyunjin see you differently.

Seungmin wishes he could do the same– make you see him differently, as someone other than the best friend, almost brotherly figure you grew up with. But it's not meant to be, and Hyunjin has already won the race for your affection without even realizing he was part of it.

"Stop being so dramatic," Seungmin complains half-heartedly, hoping you think his deadpan tone comes from just being mildly annoyed and not in fact utterly heartbroken.

You lift your head from the pillows and glare at him, but he just rolls his eyes before he lets his own head fall back against the cushion of the chaise, staring up at your impossibly pristine ceiling. "But we're a perfect match! He's a prince, I'm a princess, and I love him!" you whine, throwing one of your pillows at Seungmin when all he does is scoff instead of console you.

He throws the pillow back at you without even turning his head in your direction, and you throw it back harder than you did before, making him finally turn his gaze back in your direction. "Will you stop? Crybaby," Seungmin says, hoping to shift the conversation back to something that doesn't tear his heart to shreds. "Maybe he'd like you more if you weren't such a brat when you don't get your way."

"Seungmin!" your frown grows as you cross your arms, "do you have to be so mean to me when I'm literally heartbroken?" He has a point, that's true enough– you are acting a bit like a spoiled brat right now. But he could at least wait until later to call you out on it!

You don't understand why he's always so mean when it comes to your feelings about Hyunjin. It's his personality to tease and be playfully mean in his banter, but when your feelings for your other best friend are the topic it never feels like it's purely in jest.

"Look, I get that he and his family are starting to consider who he'll marry, but it's not like he's actually seeing anyone yet. I'm sure you still have time," Seungmin suggests after a frustrated sigh, and you huff, falling back to the pillows and staring up at your ceiling with yet another dramatic sigh. "Maybe you just don't get it because you've never been in love. The thought of losing him to someone else is.. painful.."

It's a moment of real vulnerability at the end, the pain and fear in your voice when the last words leave your lips evident. If only you knew he does understand all too well, faced with the very same reality every single day. You deal with your pain by complaining to Seungmin in overdramatic displays, while he bottles it all up and shoves it as deep inside his heart as it can go, hoping that he won't have to acknowledge the pain again until he's alone, in the safety of his bedroom where no one can see or hear him agonize over his unrequited love.

But like Seungmin said, there's still time.. Hyunjin and his family are looking over marriage prospects together, but at the end of the day the choice is entirely Hyunjin's, and surely there's something you can do before he starts going on dates and falls in love with someone else. You shoot up quickly, the apparent clarity zapping you with an idea. "You're a genius, Minnie! I don't have to wait for him to return my feelings at all, I can do something!"

"Uh... you're welcome..?" Seungmin sits back up and looks over at you, and he instantly regrets it. You're looking at him with puppy dog eyes, lip pouty and hands clamped together in what is clearly a plea for help. He's not even sure he wants to know what you're thinking of roping him into– whatever plan it is you're crafting, nothing good can come from it. Especially not when your plot is being conjured by pure emotional need.

"Seungmin.. Be my boyfriend, please! Help me make him jealous," you plea and his eyes instantly widen, mouth hanging open in complete shock. He and Hyunjin have had to talk you out of a lot of irrational acts during their time as your friend, but this takes the fucking cake. There's no way you are asking him to do this. "You can't be serious," he says after the initial shock passes and now you scramble to the edge of the bed, pout growing as you try to convince him.

"Seungmin, please–" "Absolutely not, no," he cuts you off and the desperate, heartbroken look he's met with shatters the already microscopic pieces of his heart into even smaller pieces– a feat he didn't even think possible. It's almost impressive how you manage to break his heart without even realizing it.

"Please, you know there's no one else I can ask," you plea, now completely off the bed and just inches in front of him, clasping his hands in yours. There it is– Seungmin, the consolation prize. Seungmin, the one you turn to simply because Hyunjin isn't available. Seungmin, who gets dragged into schemes like this because he just can't live with himself if he knows you're genuinely upset.

Your puppy eyes looking at him so pleadingly paired with your soft hands desperately clutching his is enough to make him melt. He swallows, averting his gaze from your pouting lips and glassy eyes, trying to stay firm in his sentiment. "It's a bad idea," he says, voice short and impossibly tense, "what will you do if it doesn't work? If he's just like.. a good friend, and supports us being happy together?"

"But what if he doesn't? C'mon Minnie, we at least have to try!" you push on, your hands squeezing his tighter. The fact that his statement doesn't seem to deter you at all somehow makes the pain in his chest even worse. Like there's no reality in which Seungmin is the viable love interest for you, like the possibility that Hyunjin would concede your heart to him couldn't ever be reality, like the idea isn't even worth entertaining.

"I.." He hesitates as he finally looks at you again, your face still impossibly close to his, the earnest desperation for him to help you with this stupid idea making his chest feel impossibly tight. Seungmin likes to think he's good at pretending to not have feelings for you, but he doesn't think he can do it while also pretending to be your boyfriend.

How is he supposed to be so close to you and pretend it was all empty acts and words when the night is over? He'll tell you he loves you and you'll think it's part of the act, praise him for being so committed to the bit for your sake, thank him for pretending so effectively. You'll take his heart in your hands and twist and bleed and crush it, and you won't even know you're doing it. "Please?" you try once more and his resolve utterly crumbles.

It's stupid how much power you have over him. It's stupid how he can't stand firm against what is very clearly a disastrous idea. It's stupid how he's going to willingly allow his heart to be trampled upon just to make you happy. "..Fine," Seungmin finally breathes out his answer, conceding without all that much of a fight in the end.

You happily squeal and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, thanking him over and over again. And despite himself, Seungmin smiles– because even though he's going to suffer, at least you'll be happy because of him, even if it's only for a short while. "You're the best, Minnie! I love you!" you beam, eyes crinkling with pure joy that he's going to help you.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome," he says as he wraps his arms around you in return. It's a mistake, but if it's for you then isn't it a mistake worth making? And he has to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat when you told him you loved him, has to remind himself that you'll never mean it in the way he wants you to, that every show of affection from this point onward will all be part of an elaborate performance.

The first rule of every fake relationship: set expectations and make a plan.

That's exactly why Seungmin finds himself visiting your room again following his foolish promise to be your pretend boyfriend. You bounce up to him in delight when he enters your room following a knock on the door, and he wishes that your excitement was genuinely for him, and not because you were going to be using him to make your shared best friend jealous.

Seungmin doesn't even believe Hyunjin will be jealous in the first place; he's never expressed having a romantic interest in you, and he thinks Hyunjin would confide in him if he did. But then again, it's not like Seungmin has ever confessed his feelings over you to Hyunjin either.. And the possibility that Hyunjin does love you, but simply never brought it up in the same way that Seungmin hasn't fills him with dread.

If this stupid plan works, and Seungmin actually helps you two come together.. he wants to think he'll be happy for you two, but who is he kidding? He'll be fucking gutted.

"You look handsome today, boyfriend," you tell Seungmin happily, and he immediately freezes in place, hoping his expression is more incredulous than it is embarrassingly flushed red. What a way to be ripped out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Can you warn me next time you're about to say something stupid?" Seungmin tries to play it off as he takes his usual place on your chaise. "Sorry, just practicing," you follow up with a giggle, and he simply sighs as he watches you sit next to him. He's really gotten himself into trouble this time around, but it's too late to rescind his agreement to help your cause.

"I don't think most couples literally call each other 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' to their faces," Seungmin says, trying to smoothly ignore the 'handsome' part of your comment. It's superficial, you don't mean it, he already knows that; best not to let his mind dwell on a false hope of you one day meaning those words.

"Well duh, I already know that," you say as you roll your eyes, "I'm just getting into character!"

Ouch. You have to get into character to love him, huh? It's not like he's surprised to hear it, but it hurts all the same. "Can't be too sure with you, sheltered princess and all," he teases and you roll your eyes again. "I'm not that sheltered. And tv exists! I'll have you know romance is my favorite genre."

"Great, so you get all your knowledge on romance from tv? How promising," Seungmin continues and you shove him, though all he does in response is smile at you. "Whatever, it's not like you know what you're doing either. You've never even had a girlfriend," you say and for a moment you think Seungmin is going to shove you back, but he doesn't.

His hands rise and almost touch you, but he hesitates before ultimately lowering them back down to his lap. It's been that way since you started getting older, as if the days you'd play wrestle or sleep while hunched together or hold hands while skipping through the castle never happened. Thinking about it, he stopped doing things like that around the same time you brought up your feelings for Hyunjin.

You assume he was being considerate, trying to be hands off so Hyunjin didn't get the wrong idea, but.. You wonder why you didn't realize how much he's been keeping his distance from you and hesitating to touch you until now? (And in reality, he stopped touching you when he realized he had feelings for you, and not when you admitted you like Hyunjin, but he's never going to clarify that fact to you.)

The other day, when you clutched his hands in yours in a desperate plea, it was the first time you held hands since you were kids. That's a sad thought, for some reason.. Maybe part of you missed it more than you realized. Taking his hand in yours, you really allow yourself to experience it this time.

It's nostalgic, holding his hand; though Seungmin's hands are much bigger now than when you were kids, they feel the same. Warm, comforting, gentle. You wonder when the last time you did this was; you almost feel bad that you can't remember. You were once holding hands every single day and then you just.. stopped. You're not sure why the thought makes you as sad as it does; probably just the natural melancholy that comes with nostalgia, if you had to guess.

Seungmin awkwardly accepts your hold, looking at you curiously after he stops fidgeting his hand. "I kinda missed this," you admit, cheeks growing pink with the admission. You're not sure why saying it makes you blush– it's just Seungmin.

"Me too," he responds, his own face equally as pink, though he hopes you don't notice. He looks down at your hands, fingers laced together, and his heart stirs. Ignoring it, he looks back to you, expression nervous but entirely serious.

"So uh– your plan.. what exactly is it?" he asks, surprised when you answer immediately. Guess you put a lot of thought into it; because while your answer isn't rehearsed necessarily, it is confident. "Well, you got your invitation to the ball right? That's where we'll tell Hyunjin we're dating! It's the perfect setting."

"But you literally hate going to that thing– are we really going to go just for that?" The annual Hwang family ball is much more politics than it is dancing. Seungmin can't think of a single time you all attended and actually had fun without having to sneak away or cause a scene. At best it's boring and at worst you're spending the entire night being lectured on the future of your countries and how important it is to marry the right person for political power.

"Yeah, unless you have a better idea?" you frown as you look at Seungmin. He doesn't, unfortunately. He's not even sure he'd suggest it if he did have one, to be fair.

God, this is so stupid– he's stupid for agreeing to go along with this. Curse you and your ability to rope him into the worst things possible just by giving him a cute look.

And in the end, he easily accepts the plan; attend the ball, act like a lovey dovey couple, activate Hyunjin's underlying jealousy (that may not actually exist), and hopefully profit. In the meantime, you'll be "building credibility" by getting past all the awkwardness now, so that you can pass as a legit couple in front of Hyunjin when the time comes.

"You're really okay with this, right? It's okay to change your mind," you say with a compassionate squeeze to his hand. It takes Seungmin by surprise that you're actually considering his feelings– not to insinuate that you're entirely selfish or don't care about him, but you do tend to have a one track mind when it comes to your romantic feelings for Hyunjin.

You watch him carefully, his expression entirely unreadable to you. You wish you could tell what he was thinking in times like this, but he always becomes a stonewall when you bring up romance and your long harbored feelings.

You know it must be for a reason, but he never tells you what it is, and you can only assume the topic of love makes him uncomfortable; and while you're grateful for his help, you don't want him to push through discomfort just for your sake.

"..Yeah, I'm good. This is fine, everything's fine," he finally says. You don't entirely believe him, but you don't press him on it– he'll just argue with you if you don't take his word for it.

Stupid. You were clearly offering him an out and he just accepted his role as your emotional martyr. But who is he kidding– it's not like he would've been able to answer any differently, ever a slave to your whims. Whether you realize it or not, you have him in the palm of your hands, and Seungmin would do anything to make you happy– even at the detriment to himself.

"So.. uh, do you want to kiss me?" you transition and Seungmin has to make a conscious effort to not choke on his own spit. Because how are you asking him that so casually?

"No, you're gross," he answers; a lie, obviously, but he didn't realize this fake relationship would entail anything other than mild displays of affection and maybe the use of pet names. If he kisses you, it's over for him. Completely, utterly over– he'll never be able to pretend you're just his friend ever again.

You roll your eyes as you let go of his hand, and he frowns; he misses the warmth already, but what right does he have? "You can just say no without the 'gross' comment, asshole," you shove him again.

Seungmin is always mean to you, so it's not like you weren't expecting a comment like that when you decided to bring up kissing. You might've hoped for a different reaction, but you certainly weren't expecting anything profound or romantic.

...Why were you hoping for a different reaction in the first place?

"No, that's– I'm sorry, that's not what I meant, I just–" You blink at him, surprised to see him floundering to admit you're not actually gross to him; it's almost endearing how Seungmin fumbles with his words.

Poor Seungmin– being mean to you is his only defense mechanism and now it's going to bite him in the ass. No wonder you don't have feelings for him.

In reality, he thinks you're pretty. So fucking pretty. And he wants to kiss you more than he's ever wanted anything. "Force of habit," he finally says, swallowing down his true thoughts and feelings, as usual.

Thankfully, you accept his answer easily; he's not sure whether you truly believe him or not, but he'll take what he can get. "Have you ever kissed someone?" you decide to ask, moving swiftly along after taking his answer at face value. Thank God.

"Once," he answers, and oh, that's a surprise; you expected him to say 'no,' to be like you– with zero experience. You're best friends– why hasn't he told you..?

To be fair, it's not that Seungmin kissed someone– he was the one being kissed by someone else. The distinction is very important! And he can see the question lingering before you even ask it, so he takes the initiative in answering. "It was awkward. I didn't.. feel the same way as them."

"Oh. I didn't realize there are people that like you," you say and Seungmin instantly shoots you with an incredulous look. "Ouch," he deadpans.

"No, sorry– I didn't mean for that to sound so mean, I swear," you promise with an awkward laugh. At least now you're equal on the 'making unintentionally hurtful comments' front.

You've thought at great length what it would be like if Hyunjin started dating someone, but you're just now realizing you never put any thought into Seungmin dating someone. You guess you just always expected that he'd be there; you never stopped to think about what would happen if he wasn't, never even considered it a possibility that he wouldn't always be right there next to you.

And it would happen eventually, wouldn't it? And what about when you and Hyunjin are a couple; you two will have each other and Seungmin will.. well, you don't know what he'll do. But you don't like the thought of him being anymore distant. What a way to realize how selfish you're being.

“Sucks that it was awkward,” you eventually say, ignoring the way guilt starts to eat at you. No surprise that the selfish princess doesn’t want to confront the issue of potentially having perpetuated a one sided friendship just yet.

“Yeah.. honestly, I felt bad. I’m sure it took a lot of courage to confess and kiss me, but I,” already had feelings for you, he thinks, but obviously opts to say something else, “just didn’t feel the same.”

Lord knows Seungmin will never have that same level of courage; to put yourself out there and confess only to be met firmly with rejection is terrifying. And he knows you don’t feel the same, so why even try? Being a coward suits him perfectly fine in this case. 

“Why didn’t you accept anyways? You might’ve returned the feelings after becoming a couple and growing closer to them,” you ask, earnestly curious. You think you would give someone a chance if they confessed to you if you weren’t already so in love with Hyunjin.

But as far as you knew, Seungmin didn’t have feelings for anyone, so there would’ve been nothing to lose from trying. If only that were true– his life would be much easier if he wasn’t earth shatteringly in love with you. 

“Mm, maybe. But if months went by and I still didn’t, I would’ve felt scummy. Like I was stringing them along and giving them a false promise, y’know? And I don’t wanna be that guy,” Seungmin answers, keeping out the major detail of ‘I’m also impossibly in love with you and dating someone while being in love with your best friend is definitely frowned upon.’

“Wow. I think I respect you more after that,” you say and Seungmin scoffs, unable to hide the smile that breaks on his lips. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you didn’t respect me before now.”

“Hey, I clearly said ‘respect you more!’ Meaning I did respect you, thank you very much,” you laugh. There’s a silence that follows when the giggling dies down and the smiles fade, with Seungmin looking at you carefully. Right. He’s here to be your fake boyfriend. Better get back to the quest at hand.

“So.. I’m not actually gross, huh?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to where it began. “Only a little,” he teases, laughing when you grab a spare cushion to shove at him. 

“Stop being mean, I’m trying to be serious!” You whine as he tosses the cushion you shoved in his face to the floor. “Okay, okay,” Seungmin says, his expression softening as he looks at you.

In reality, he thinks you’re perfect; but it’s much easier to tease and pretend you disgust him than to face how beautiful he thinks you are. But with how seriously you’re taking this entire thing, it seems he’s going to have to be more earnest with himself, and you, than he was prepared to be.

He really fucked himself over this time around.

"Theoretically.." you start, chewing on your lip before you continue, "Hypothetically–"

"Those words mean the same thing," Seungmin can't help but interrupt, laughing as you shove him and tell him to 'shut the fuck up.' You hate him sometimes– fucking menace to your sanity, you swear.

"Hypothetically," you continue when he's done laughing and you're sure he's ready to take you seriously, "assuming you're being honest and I'm not gross. Would you want to kiss me?"

Well, guess there's no avoiding it now. It's time for the thing Seungmin fears most– some good, old fashioned honesty about his feelings. "Yes," is all he says; no further elaboration, no talk on whether or not this is still strictly in the realm of hypotheticals, or if he'd only be okay with it under some sort of condition being met. Just.. yes, he'd want to kiss you– wants to kiss you. That's it.

You can’t believe how easily he conceded in the end; you wonder if another mean, teasing joke is inbound, or if he doesn’t quite get what you’re insinuating.

"You know I mean on the lips right? Like.. an actual kiss?" You ask, wanting to ensure you're on the same page and he's not just thinking, like.. forehead or cheek kisses or something. All of which will still be part of this fake relationship, but still; better to make sure everything is clarified.

"Yeah, I assumed that," he replies and you simply blink. You're not sure why, but that does something to your heart. "And.. you're okay with that..?"

"Yeah..? I thought we established I didn't mean it when I said you're gross. I was just teasing," he says plainly, as if the topic you're discussing is completely normal. And well, maybe that's the attitude you should have too– it's no big deal, right?

It's not that strange for two best friends to kiss, it happens all the time! And this was all your idea in the first place; you don't even understand why you feel so weird about it all of the sudden. Sure, not thinking you're gross and wanting to kiss you are two different things entirely, but you're thinking about it too hard.

Seungmin is just being a good friend to you. He's nonchalant about it because all of this is simple; it's supposed to be simple. Just one friend casually helping out another. If anything, it's a relief he has no hang ups about it, right? It makes this whole thing easier!

(The reality: he is not nonchalant in the slightest. He is practically screaming inside over the idea of kissing you– you just don't know it.)

Blushing and heart twisting for reasons beyond your understanding, you opt to just take his hand in yours again instead, averting your eyes from him and training them off to the distance. Your bedroom walls are very interesting all of a sudden.

"Maybe later," you mumble and he nods, relieved as he squeezes your hand. Yeah, maybe later. He doesn't think he's ready to fall for you even harder just yet anyways.

Weeks pass, and your fake relationship develops slowly but organically thanks to the Hwang's ball being further away still. You expected becoming "natural" in your relationship would take time, which is why you wanted to get a headstart on practicing being close. Your heart still stirs in unexpected moments, but mostly you feel comfortable, which is perfect.

Some awkwardness and shy closeness would be natural, but you can't appear stiff in front of Hyunjin if you want to pass as a genuine couple– the goal is for the relationship to look fresh, not forced. Due to this, you and Seungmin hold hands a lot these days.

You like it, to be honest. It reminds you of all these thoughts and memories you hadn't lingered on in years. Of play dates and toothless smiles and laughing as you trip and tumble and grow dirty. You missed it.

You missed this too– cuddling, same as the hand holding. It's something you hadn't done since you were kids, and similarly, you couldn't remember the last time you had done it before now. You find yourself thinking it's a shame you ever stopped.

You're currently laying against him, head on his shoulder while one of his arms is wrapped around your waist, legs tangled together on your obscenely large sofa while some movie you long since stopped paying attention to plays on your equally large tv.

You practiced calling each other pet names, but they all felt weird– in the end, the only thing that felt natural was sticking to calling each other stupid, idiot, asshole, brat.. And somehow hearing Seungmin call you a selfish brat before he hugs you with a smile makes your heart skip a beat these days.

It doesn't make sense, but you don't let yourself dwell on it or think about it too hard– this is all for a purpose, and it's better to just leave it at that. When you suggested trying out cuddling today, you didn’t expect your mind to go to so many complicated places.

"Hey Minnie, do you remember the last time we cuddled like this?" you decide to ask him, tilting your head up to be able to catch a glimpse at him.

"Yeah. We were 12," he answers easily, and you can just barely see this corner of his mouth lifted in a fond smile.

"Really?" you question and he tilts his head to look at you. He answered so quickly; no delay in the slightest, didn't even have to waste any time thinking on it or trying to remember– he just.. already knew. The instantaneous ease in which he responded surprises you as equally as it fills you with guilt.

"Of course. You don't remember?" he asks and the pangs of guilt over not being able to remember yourself grow painfully. You never expected to feel so terrible over something so small.

"Not really.." you answer with a frown; you wish you did, especially since Seungmin seems to have his own memory of your childhood closeness perfectly intact, but you simply.. don't remember.

"Wow, I'm so hurt. You care for me so little," Seungmin teases, but all you can do is continue to frown. You can't bring yourself to hit him with a witty quip or joke that you hate him– because part of you worries that how inattentive you've been thus far would give rise to him one day believing your statements made to poke fun are how you truly feel. And right now you just honestly, truly feel bad.

His expression softens when he realizes you're genuinely saddened, assuming it's because he took the teasing too far by insinuating you don't care about him. In reality, it's not him you're upset with, but yourself. And it stings to realize that maybe what he says isn't completely wrong– maybe you really have cared about him too little.

Maybe if you weren't so hyperfocused on love and romance with Hyunjin, you'd have realized sooner how much you put your friendship with Seungmin on the wayside. You wish you'd been a better friend.

"It's to be expected actually,” Seungmin attempts to rectify his mistake in wording (though truly it's not his fault, or a ‘mistake’– your guilt is your own, and all he did was unintentionally spark some much needed self reflection.) “You were sick as fuck and loaded on cough syrup."

"Oh!" You exclaim suddenly, a vague memory in the very back of your mind becoming clearer now. Just as Seungmin said, you were 12 and suffering from the worst cold you'd ever had in your entire life. You felt like you were dying and it was your own fault it happened; a blizzard had just passed, and you insisted on playing in the freshly fallen heaps of snow with your two best friends.

The lake near the castle had completely frozen over in the storm, and despite being repeatedly warned how unsafe it is to play on a frozen lake, you were just a kid who thought you were invincible. Every kid is overconfident and zealous, truly believing no harm or wrong can come to them until the world teaches them a lesson in humility– and that's exactly what happened that day.

You skated around on the frozen lake, paying no heed to any of the warnings you received, laughing and giggling without a care in the world even as you slipped and slid around on the slick surface of the ice. But eventually you fell, of course you did, it was ice– and the moment your weight collided with the surface of the lake, it cracked.

It's hard to remember what followed– all you really remember was how your whole body froze the minute it touched the icy water, as if all your limbs had become pure lead. But Seungmin was there, and Hyunjin too, and they pulled you out and got you back inside as fast as they were able. It honestly came as no surprise that you got sick following your unceremonious ice bath.

Seungmin and Hyunjin got a bit sick too, but their sniffles and slight coughs paled in comparison to your symptoms. Hyunjin's parents made him return home to shake off his cold, but Seungmin's didn't mind if he got over his slight cold with you in the castle. Even with the spark of clarity it's all still vague, but you can just remember it now– how Seungmin was glued to your side the entire rest of the week as your body tried to fight off the illness.

He was there when your attendants woke you to take your medicine, he was there when you drank your water and sipped your soup, he rubbed your back when you coughed and stroked your head when you complained that it hurt. He was.. sweet. The entire time. The usual Seungmin who teased and complained was nowhere to be seen, even when you unintentionally got snot on his shirt.

Instead, he was just sincerely caring. And he cuddled you, let you soak up all his warmth because no matter how many layers of blankets you were under and despite the constant fueling of the fire in your fireplace, you still felt so impossibly cold.

"I remember now," you tell him and the smile you're met with stirs something within you. Or maybe it's the memory of how sweet he can be when he's not being a jackass. Maybe it's how underneath his layers of teasing comments and sarcastic words, he's genuine.

He remembers things, always remembers things, even when the moments are small and fleeting. And maybe it's how even when he complains or calls you a selfish brat, he'd still do anything for you. Even now, years later, he's still just the same in that regard.

Seungmin cares about you, would do anything for you, wants you happy even when your happiness causes him trouble and inconvenience. All his sarcasm and jokes at your expense will fade the minute you're genuinely unwell, he'll drop everything he's doing the minute you need him for something serious; because underneath his layers and walls, he'll always be someone selfless and kind.

You sit up ever so slightly, just enough to get a clearer view of him while still tangled in his arms and legs. You breathe his name in a whisper, and his eyes dart around your face as he tries to figure out what you’re doing, what you’re thinking while looking at him so.. attentively. It makes him nervous when you look at him like that, makes him feel like you can see right through him and read his every thought, like he’s nothing but cellophane.

And you kiss him. You kiss him. Soft and chaste, your lips just barely pressed to his, but still he crumbles, his sandcastle heart caught by your wave. His weak heart pounds, his blood races through his veins, he blinks in surprise and still can't seem to find himself or formulate a thought even when you pull away. What even just happened?

"S-Sorry," you flush instantly as you turn your eyes away from Seungmin's heating face.

You can't believe you just kissed your best friend like that. And like.. you fully expected to give Seungmin your first kiss as part of this whole charade, but it was supposed to be a moment that only happened after meticulous planning and mental preparation. This was undeniably, purely the heat of the moment.

"Uh, I– it just.. felt right. For practice..?" you stumble as you try to formulate an excuse for your own unexpected actions. Yeah. It was for practice, that's all. You aren't in love with him– you love Hyunjin. What you felt when you kissed him just now was.. something else. That's what you tell yourself, because it's the only thing that makes sense.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense," Seungmin utters quietly, sounding almost.. disappointed. You look at him again, and catch just a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before it fades completely, almost as if it was never there.

And maybe it wasn't– maybe you're projecting, somehow? Do you want Seungmin to be sad that the kiss doesn't mean more? You don't know. It's confusing.

And you hate that you don't know why it's confusing, that you don't understand where all these conflicting thoughts and feelings are coming from and what they mean. You don't want to admit it, but maybe he was right; maybe this whole thing wasn't a good idea.

He sees the struggle on your face, but there's no way for him to know that it's due to confusion about your feelings, how you liked kissing him and how you don't know what that says about you or about your feelings– for him, or for Hyunjin.

Instead, he worries that you hated it, that kissing him filled you with disgust and regret and now you were trying to figure out how you can ever look at him again. But you do look at him again, of course you do.

And despite the confusion and the struggle from your complex, raging emotions, you meet his eyes softly. You reach for a hand and squeeze, and once again he feels like you see right through him, see all the ugly dread and guilt and sorrow that comes from being in love with you.

You see him and he sees you; and though it's confusing, and clearly disastrous, neither of you want to let whatever this is go just yet.

"Do you.. want to keep practicing..?" he asks hesitantly, a hint of hope in his unsteady voice. A hope he shouldn't have, a hope he feels you will sternly reject.

But you don't. You smile at him, a timid one he thought only ever reserved for Hyunjin, and you nod. "Yeah, do you?" you ask, and all Seungmin replies with is a simple "yeah" of his own before your lips are on his again.

You kiss him and he kisses you, and sometimes it's awkward as you bump noses or ever so slightly miss and instead kiss the corner of his mouth, but in the end it all becomes natural, rhythmic, easy.

Butterflies thrash in your stomach, your heart races, your face burns, his lips are soft and warm and perfect, and through it all, for the first time in all your years, you stop thinking about Hyunjin, and linger exclusively on Seungmin.

Kissing Seungmin makes you feel strange. It doesn't feel bad, nor wrong, or uncomfortable; but strange because of what it evokes in you. When he left for his guest room that night, and you had more time to think about what you’d done, you came to the conclusion that the butterflies would pass now that it was over.

You only felt them because kissing, regardless of it being with your best friend, was foreign and new. You thought that as you got used to kissing him, that deceitful fluttering in your stomach would gradually fade.

You expected that kissing him would become as second nature to you as holding hands, and eventually you’d feel.. maybe not nothing when kissing him, but certainly you wouldn't still be so reactive.

What has actually happened is rather the opposite; your heart skips a beat when he enters your room now, you unconsciously flush whenever he holds you closer, your stomach knots itself when he smiles following a kiss. 

He smiles a lot more these days; or maybe you only perceive it that way because part of you wants it to mean something more than it does. That’s what frustrates you most of all; no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just practice, that this means nothing to either of you and is only a means to an end, you find yourself struggling to come to peace with that idea.

Confusion and guilt eat at you, complex feelings and emotions you didn’t even know you had rising to the surface one after the next, protesting being ignored and making themselves acutely known. And there’s a question that burns in the back of your mind, something you’re scared to confront but know you must before this is over– is your love for Hyunjin genuine or superficial?

Do you love him the way a lover truly would, or do you love the idea of being with him? The idea that your romance would be a picture perfect fairytale, because he’s a prince and you’re a princess and those two things just naturally go together.

Perhaps your understanding of love is inherently naive and flawed; perhaps all these years spent pining, you were chasing an ideal rather than a person. But misguided though it may be, your love for Hyunjin has to be true; because apart from being one of your best friends, he’s objectively perfect for you.

Seungmin is rough and jagged, while Hyunjin is polished and smooth. Though more tempered and refined than yourself, Hyunjin matches your flair for the dramatic, while Seungmin is oppositely rooted firmly in reality. Where Hyunjin is elegant words and gentle smiles, Seungmin is sarcasm and rolled eyes.

But that’s not entirely true, you know it isn’t; because while Seungmin is indeed sarcastic and mean and sometimes rough around the edges, he’s also gentle, and sincere, and passionate.

He doesn’t show that softness within as easily as Hyunjin does, he's built up walls as he grew older for reasons that you couldn't begin to understand, but maybe that’s what makes it more special when he does let them fall, how you know he truly means it when he does something kind. His sweet smiles carry far more weight and depth than you ever stopped to realize.

“You okay? What’s up with you today?” Seungmin asks, careful but with a hint in his voice that he’s ready to tease depending on how you respond. Right. The reason you called him over today.

You chew your lip as you look at him, and you know he’s been able to tell all day that something was off with you. You wanted to call this whole thing off, if you’re being honest; tell him you realized he was right, he’s always right, and this was a terrible idea that you shouldn’t have dragged him into. 

But the moment you faced him you lost all your nerve. Your mouth ran dry, the words lodged themselves in your throat, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak them. It’s so fucking selfish, but you realized that without this fake relationship keeping you together, the distance between you would return.

Once the charade is over, he’ll go back to hardly ever returning your touch, to emotional walls stacked so high you fear you could never climb them, to strained smiles and equally strained words. You’re not sure why Seungmin is more open these days; maybe intimacy and closeness, no matter the cause and regardless of lack of romantic intent attached to them, is enough to naturally break down a person’s barriers.

You don’t even know why he has barriers, why he shields himself from you so strongly when you’re his best friend, but now that you’ve experienced him without his walls, you don’t want to go back. You’re terrible and selfish and it’s hardly a justification to keep your fake relationship going, but still..

“Are you getting nervous?” he tries again; the ball is approaching quickly now, and he suspects maybe you’re off because you fear your performance as a couple won’t be good enough, that maybe you won’t be as believable as you need to be.

You want to tell him he’s probably right, that it’s just nerves and you’ll get over it and everything will be fine with the moment comes, but you know that’s not all there is to it. 

It feels so stupid looking back on how excitedly you chose a new dress for the occasion, planned how you’d match with Seungmin, parade yourself on his arm and bat your eyelashes at him while calling him the sweetest names you could come up with, all so Hyunjin would look on and maybe get jealous.

You didn’t listen when Seungmin warned you it was a bad idea, didn’t entertain the truth that Hyunjin would likely be a good friend and not intervene, didn’t want to acknowledge how tunnel-visioned and selfish the fairytale romance you pursued made you. 

You kissed Seungmin, held his hands, hugged him close and cuddled him tight. Your heart ached and stomach fluttered and you ignored every blaring alarm in your brain because the ends were supposed to justify the means. And now you’re going to ruin not just one friendship, but two; because you don’t know how you’re going to face either of them when it all inevitably crashes and burns.

“I just.. aren’t I being really selfish? You told me this was stupid but I didn’t listen, and now I feel like.. like I'm taking advantage of your kindness, and I'm going to lose you when this is over," you blurt it all out, watch as his eyebrows furrow and his expression changes.

Emotions flash through his eyes, indiscernible and unreadable as they always are before he steels himself and hides whatever it was away. What does he feel, and why won't he share it with you? Is it regret, frustration, exasperation..? All of them would be perfectly justified.

It hurts, but you realize Seungmin will never tell you what he's thinking or feeling. He will never sincerely admit it when you've wronged him, never confess to having any negative feelings beyond superficial teasing over it. Is it because you're the princess, and he feels like it's what he should do? Is it just how he is as a person?

You don't know; but even if he won't tell you himself that he hates this, you can't let it go on. You swallow, clench your hands into fists and finally make a selfless decision; one you should’ve made before all these weeks passed you by, and you became attached to a version of your best friend you were never supposed to have. “We should stop.” 

Seungmin looks almost hurt before he lets out a laugh; you can’t tell if it’s based in self-deprecation, irony, annoyance, or something even further beyond what you can understand from him.

“I agreed to this,” he says, grabbing your arm and making you look at him again when you try to turn away and avoid his gaze, “I wanted– I want to help you. You know that, right? I know I can be difficult sometimes, but I’d never lie about that.”

Maybe you are terribly selfish, and maybe you are taking advantage of him, and maybe his heart will shrivel and die the moment this ends, but he doesn’t fucking care. He can be selfish too, and his selfishness makes him want to hold on to you for as long as he can, even if it’s fake, even if you never love him; pretending to is enough, it’s all he needs.

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it? You’re always so selfless, you always indulge me, and I just..” you trail off; you don’t know what more you can bring yourself to say. 

He’s difficult, he’s frustrating, and he’s mean, but he’s not cruel. You know how sweet he actually is, how much he’d sacrifice for you if you asked him too. It’s time you stopped relying on him for stupid shit like this, stop dragging him into your petty, dumb, naive problems and grow up a little.

Stop being the selfish princess you were raised to be and start being someone worthy of Seungmin’s unwavering friendship instead. You’d never intentionally hurt him, but the problem is you certainly have– countless times that you probably aren’t even conscious of because your self reflection has come just a little too late.

You started this whole thing because the idea of losing Hyunjin made your heart ache; but the idea of losing Seungmin, that knowledge that you’ve very likely taken and hurt and been a terrible friend for years doesn’t just make your heart ache– it rips it out entirely.

It’s strange and awful, how you always considered them both best friends but are only just realizing how different those friendships actually worked– and how losing Seungmin as a friend is far more gutting than losing a potential lover in Hyunjin. 

And logically you know Seungmin would never hate you, would call you selfish or stupid or annoying but would absolutely never actually think badly of you, and that makes it all the worse. He wears a mask for you, you know it’s true even if you want to deny it; but the mask he wears is cracked, the paint is worn, and knowing it could all be your fault makes you feel impossibly anguished and sick. 

Seungmin frowns and lets you look away, though he still hesitates to let you go. He does though, eventually, and he falls to his back on your bed with a sigh. “You don’t need to worry about me, this is all fine, I’m fine,” he says but you don’t entirely trust him.

He’s too stubborn and selfless to admit you’ve ever hurt him, knows it would gut you to realize what you’ve done to him, and so he chooses to say nothing about it at all. Because regardless of the boundary of friend and lover and where you both lie in between those words, he loves you– not that you feel you deserve it. 

This isn’t entirely your fault either; he gave in way too easily. He knew it was a bad idea and he should’ve been more stern, made you see reason even if it made you cry and pout and whine for hours on end.

He knows you're selfish and spoiled and a little naive when it comes to what romance means but he didn’t do anything to genuinely shut you down– because beneath it all, he’s just as selfish as you, and he wanted to be your boyfriend for a just a little while, even if being your boyfriend meant nothing. 

His walls are down but he’s still not being completely honest, you know he isn’t. The mask is back on but the cracks have grown, exposing more of the real Seungmin beneath, and he can’t hide himself away as easily as he used to– because now you’ve seen them.

The cracks, the imperfections, the instability. And you’ve taken them all in, deduced that they’re your fault, and you won’t let it go– because that’s what stubborn people like you do. You pick and you prod and you poke, until something bends or breaks and you finally get the result you want. 

But what do you want? To stop playing pretend? For Seungmin to admit that yeah, you have hurt him sometimes– not that he blames you. He knows it wasn’t ever once intentional, and he was never going to hold anything against you or leave you behind.

Or maybe you want him to admit he’s in love with you. Maybe you want him to say that he’s just as fucking hopelessly in love with you as you are with Hyunjin, and that the love he feels for you foolishly allowed for things to get way farther than they should have. 

You look at him hesitantly, the way he’s fallen onto your bed, his shirt ridden half up his stomach from the fall and the way his caramel colored hair fans out around him. He’s beautiful and despite everything you’ve just said, you want to crawl on his lap and kiss him. You try to blink the thought away, to scrub your mind clean from thoughts you shouldn’t be having. 

He sees the way your eyes linger on his lips, how you internally struggle between what you think you should and shouldn’t do, how even now you are trying to spare him when he doesn’t need to be spared. Consume him whole, eat away at him until there’s nothing left, he doesn’t fucking care– he just wants you, even if it’s temporary, even if you throw him away in the end in favor of someone better.

Not if, he has to remind himself, but when– because it’s inevitable, because you’ll never love him as more than a friend.

Seungmin reaches out to you, is close to touching you, but just as he used to, he hesitates before he drops his hand. The distance returns, and that should be a good thing; it hurts, but isn’t it what’s right? You don’t.. You’re not in love with him.

You can’t be– you just.. value him as a friend and don’t want to do anything to strain your friendship anymore than you already have. Everything you feel is confusing and weird and you don't know what to do with what you have now. 

What to do with your urge to be closer to him, or the way you blush when he smiles and calls you names, or how the content sighs he lets out while kissing and cuddling makes your stomach do flips. How the way he unconsciously squeezes you tighter fills you with butterflies, or how the way his hands linger before you begin to separate makes you want to go crawling back to his open arms. 

And there’s the impure thoughts– the ones you’ve never even had about Hyunjin despite being in love with him. The ones you have when you see his shirt ridden up like it is now, or how those sighs when you kiss him would sound if you took things just a step further.

You used to daydream about pure things like sharing a romantic dance or being given flowers on an anniversary– now your thoughts linger on things like Seungmin’s tongue in your mouth and his hand between your thighs. Things you definitely shouldn’t be daydreaming about if you’re as in love with Hyunjin as you say you are. 

You suck in a trembling breath and again try to push the thoughts you shouldn’t have away. Seungmin’s expression is contemplative and gentle now, full of a care you don’t deserve. It’s no surprise he can read you like an open book, can tell you’re more upset about this than you should be.

It should be a comfort that this charade is coming to an end, but all you feel is sharp, stinging guilt and unbearable pain in your chest. Your eyes burn and you feel as if you’re going to cry, but how terrible would that be? It would almost feel manipulative to cry in front of him now, after having put all that effort into trying to go back to normalcy.

You’re so frustrated with yourself, so impossibly frustrated; you squeeze your clenched fists, your nails dig into your palms, your tears threaten to spill and you look away from Seungmin before they do. Because he’ll comfort you, and that’s not what you deserve. Obviously he knows, it’s not like you can hide it very well, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he reaches out again– and this time, he doesn’t stop himself or hesitate. The distance you’ve put between you has already closed again. He pulls you down to him, makes you fall against his chest, your head winding up somewhere between his heart and his shoulder.

You can still hear it from your position above it, and the steady thumping soothes you. “The ball is soon,” he says quietly, “we can go as planned, and then decide what will happen with us after. If you still want to stop after that, it’s okay. Just.. don’t give up too soon.” 

You can tell he’s trying to sound sure of himself, but he’s just as lost in all this as you are. And though you still feel rattled with guilt and uncertainty, you nod. You trust Seungmin, and you may as well see this fake relationship through to the end– and the Hwang ball is where you meet that end, one way or another.

“Okay..” you mumble, chest tight and stomach knotted with guilt, but you do your best not to spiral again, to trust Seungmin’s word when he says you haven’t done wrong by him. 

He calls your name and you look up at him expectantly. His mouth opens, he goes to speak, but whatever he wants to say is swallowed back down, and is instead replaced with something more familiar.

“You’re.. really annoying,” he whispers before he kisses you, and there’s a relief that spreads through your veins. “Asshole,” you whisper back and you feel him smile, the comfortable normalcy returning even in this situation that is anything but normal. 

You’re both stupid and stubborn and there’s no way this ends without someone having a broken heart, but for now it’s okay. For now, it’s all Seungmin needs; to be close to you and touch you and hold you and know that you were his, for however brief and false a time it may have been.

“Do you think we should share a guest room to make this more believable?” you mumble while walking through the halls of the Hwang Castle, hand intertwined with Seungmin’s while he carries both his luggage and your own.

Hyunjin obviously prepared your rooms separately as you haven’t announced your relationship to him yet– not that it’s going to last much longer anyways. Whether you end up with Hyunjin by night's end or not, your fake relationship with Seungmin can’t proceed beyond this. 

“I dunno,” Seungmin replies, though your question was more absentminded musing than a genuine question you were expecting to have answered by him. “Maybe? Technically speaking, we’ve been “dating” for a couple months now. It’d probably be normal.”

You hum and contemplate his answer for a moment before you look at Seungmin with a smile. “Let’s share my room then! Hyunjin always gives me the biggest room available.” 

“I fucking knew it,” Seungmin says in faux-exasperation as you giggle. He always felt like his guest rooms were smaller than yours; and he doesn't actually care, but it's fun to act like it bothers him, and it's even better to hear you laugh. “Spoiled brat. Still need luxury even when you’re in someone else’s place, huh?”

“Naturally. What kind of princess would I be if I didn’t get the best of everything?” He rolls his eyes despite the way a smile tugs on his lips and a laugh threatens to break. You turn a hall, and finally your guest rooms begin to come into sight– you've been to Hyunjin's place enough to know the layout, but it still doesn't make getting to the guest hall any less of a trek.

Seungmin unlinks your hands when you approach the double doors of the castle's best guest room, fumbling in his pocket for the keys you were given for just a moment before he finds the right one. He unlocks the door, walks inside with you and sets your luggage down in the corner of the room before turning to look at you.

“You sure you want me to stay? I don’t mind going to my own room,” Seungmin offers and you quickly shake your head– maybe a little too quickly, but you won’t acknowledge how eager for him to stay you seem. 

“Well, I’ll probably need help getting ready,” you say; an excuse, sure, but it’s reasonable at least. But what about after that? When the ball is over and so too is your act, regardless of whether you get results with Hyunjin or not– would Seungmin still stay? Would you want him to stay? You think you would; you don’t know what that means or what it says about you, but it’s honestly what you’d want.

“If you’re sure, I'll make myself comfortable then,” Seungmin says as he flops himself on the extravagant guest bed. There’s still a couple of hours until the ball, and since he won’t take nearly as long getting ready as you, he decides it’s a good idea to get in a short nap.

Traveling always makes him tired, after all– especially when he’s going from your castle all the way to Hyunjin’s. He yawns and stretches out before he closes his eyes, and your eyes linger on him fondly for a moment before you turn to where Seungmin set your luggage. 

You rummage through your bags for everything you need to get ready; toiletries, makeup, your dress– you collect them all in your arms and carry them to the attached bathroom. You spend a fair amount of time in the shower; half of it spent diligently and meticulously scrubbing over your body, and the other half simply standing beneath the hot water, staring at nothing as your mind struggles with the possible outcomes of the night.

You shake your head, try to dispel the bubbling anxiety for the fate of your friendships before turning off the water to dry off. You'll focus on your makeup– be just as methodical and careful in the application as you were with washing yourself. After all, feeling good about the outside can help you feel good about the inside; surely you'll feel better once you're all glamed up!

You hold your dress up to your body when you're finished with your makeup, and imagine briefly how you’ll look in it while standing in front of the large, ornate mirror. That’s the downside to ordering online– you have no idea how the dress will actually fit you, but you hope you’ll look pretty.

Nerves hit you again as you look at yourself, but you swallow them down the best you can as you lie the dress on the sink counter. You don’t know what you’re hoping for tonight anymore; whether you want Hyunjin to see you with Seungmin and get jealous, or if you want him to think you are a sweet couple and support you sincerely. 

It doesn’t matter either way; nothing about this is genuine. And you’re not sure if you can be happy with yourself if Hyunjin is jealous and realizes he likes you over a lie. But you’ve come this far, you’re already here and Seungmin has reassured you over and over again that this is something he thinks you should see through, so.. That’s all you have left to do. Just see it through until the end. 

Getting your underwear on, and then carefully slipping on your dress, here is where you need Seungmin’s help. It’s near impossible for you to pull up the zipper that lies along the spine of your dress, even if you stretch and reach behind you as far as your arm can go. Holding a hand to your chest so that the dress doesn’t slip back down your body, you carefully open the bathroom door and peek outside into the main room.

You weren’t sure if Seungmin really fell asleep after you’d left him alone in the room, but peeking out now, you can tell that he has. He’s in the same position on the bed as when you left him, his eyes serenely closed and breathing steady.

You call his name, but he doesn’t react; so you try once more, raising your voice this time, but you’re still met with nothing in response. You step out of the bathroom and up to the bed cautiously, and you make one last effort to wake him by calling his name just in case.

It doesn’t work, of course; you didn’t really think it would anyways if you’re being honest, but it didn’t hurt to try. You cautiously reach out to his shoulder, and do your best to rouse him awake while still holding your dress up with your other hand. Seungmin slowly blinks awake, mumbling something you can’t decipher as his senses slowly return to reality one by one.

He blinks a few times more, processing the sight before him; you leaning towards him, your dress loosely covering your body with the support of the hand not placed on his shoulder. He refuses to let his eyes linger on the image of your barely concealed cleavage before him, instead putting all of his effort into looking back up to your face.

"Need my help now?" he correctly assumes, and you nod as you straighten back up. Seungmin sits up from the bed, watches you as you turn to return to the bathroom, expecting him to follow.

He does his best to ignore what the sight of your exposed skin does to him; the only reason he has this view is because you trust him and view him as a best friend– he really can't afford to be having any impure thoughts about you. (A little late for that in all honesty, but he'll atone for it later.)

The door is wide open, but he knocks on the doorframe to announce himself before he steps through; a sign of respect and decency. "Thanks," you smile at him briefly as he steps inside the bathroom and takes his place behind you. "I can't zip it up on my own," you explain, and yeah, he can see that clearly; the bottom of the zipper lies on your tailbone, your panties ever so slightly peeking in the v-shape the zipper creates with the two sides of your dress.

He swallows and pretends he doesn't notice, instead looking to where the zipper ends just around your shoulder blades. “Do you think Hyunjin will think I look good?” you can’t help but ask as Seungmin’s hand falls to your zipper, slowly pulling it up. It gives you goosebumps– not the cold zipper on your skin, but the way his hand feels just over your spine, running along it as he zips up your dress.

You're not sure what reply you hope to hear; maybe it's a question with no right answer. “He will, I know it,” Seungmin answers; he’d have to be an idiot not to. “You’re beautiful." You flush as you look at him in the mirror, standing behind you but not at all obscured thanks to your smaller frame. 

You know he means it– he teases and he pretends, but he’d never lie about something like that. You already know that to be true; he’s said it himself– that the thing’s he says with a serious tone are the things he really means.

He’s not looking at you, his eyes fixed on your back until he’s finished with the zipper, ignoring the way the hooks of your bra stare back at him until your dress closes and they are obscured from his sight, the way they should be.

He finally meets your gaze again when he’s done, meeting your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. Your face feels impossibly hot, and you hope he thinks the pink on your face is from the makeup you applied as opposed to the real blush it is.

You still have things to do; put on your accessories, fix-up and style your hair, put on your prettiest pair of heels, but even without all that flashy glamor added on, Seungmin already thinks you’re radiant as can be.

Though he’s done with the zipper, his hand hasn’t left your back yet, and neither of you have broken the gaze you keep in the mirror. There’s a moment where you think he’ll turn you around and kiss you, or that you’ll kiss him; and truly, he wants to, but he shouldn’t. This night is supposed to be about you and Hyunjin, and you don’t need the ‘practice’ anymore– it was only ever an excuse to begin with. 

He clears his throat as he lets you go, and you turn your gaze away from the mirror, swallowing down all your feelings and nerves as you rummage through your bag for the accessories you brought with you.

“It won’t take me much longer to get ready,” you say as you continue to rummage through your bag– you found what you need, but taking it out means having to meet Seungmin’s gaze, and you’re not ready to do that again just yet.

“Right, I should get ready too,” Seungmin mumbles mostly to himself as he turns to leave. You don’t look up from your bag, even as he lingers in the doorway. You can tell he stopped to look at you, you can feel his eyes observing you, but still you don’t glance up at him.

“Yeah, not much time left ‘til we gotta go,” you say, and he responds with a simple, quiet ‘yeah’ before he fully walks out into the main room. 

There’s a sense of dread that lingers– both of you having a similar feeling weighing on your hearts, while ironically thinking you feel it all by yourself, that the other person doesn’t possibly feel the same way.

A situation that would easily be mended by communication, but the gap between what you perceive to be true, and the real truth, is not so easily crossed. The metaphoric rope that connects you and Seungmin together is frayed, and you worry that an uncomfortable conversation will cause that connection to completely snap. 

So you swallow your feelings once more, you put on your earrings and style your hair, and you realign your focus. You can’t keep thinking about what your affection for Seungmin means or why the thought of this ending tonight weighs on you so heavily.

You’re close to getting what you’ve been working for, and that should be where your thoughts linger– on Hyunjin. The best friend you’ve always thought you had feelings for, the one you believed yourself to be in love with. 

Stepping inside the ballroom with Seungmin is utterly nerve wracking; it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for, the moment that 3 months of fake relationship practice were leading up to.

This is where you show your best performance, where you parade around on Seungmin’s arm and look at him with the best heart eyes you can muster. Not that it’s a hard task, these days– you find yourself doing it without even thinking about it. 

You.. love him, if you had to guess. But do you love him more than you thought you loved Hyunjin? You guess that’s the answer you’re really trying to find tonight.

You never thought it’s where you’d be today when you first conjured up this plan, there was no way to anticipate how much your newfound closeness with Seungmin would affect the feelings you thought you were so sure of. 

It’s natural to be confused, isn’t it? Surely anyone would be in this scenario; you can’t kiss and hug and cuddle someone for so long and feel nothing, right? And it’s your own fault, you can’t blame anyone but yourself for the predicament you’ve found yourself in. You reap what you sow, as your grandmother likes to say.

“Don’t be so on edge, everything’ll work out,” Seungmin leans to whisper in your ear. You’ve been so tense ever since you left the guest room together– half nervous to see Hyunjin again after months and half ‘oh my god why does Seungmin look so good tonight.’

As if it wasn’t enough that you were confused about your feelings, Seungmin had to come out looking so devastatingly handsome in his perfectly tailored suit and neatly slicked hair. “Yeah, you’re right, sorry,” you respond and he shakes his head, offers a reassuring smile before he looks around the room.

“He’s around here somewhere, we’ll see him soon enough,” Seungmin says as his eyes continue to scan the packed ballroom. Oh, that makes sense; he thinks you’re tense because you haven’t run into Hyunjin yet.

If things were the same as a few months ago, you think that may have been true. Now, you’re not really sure what’s true. Hyunjin will see you as a couple and he’ll either silently rage with envy or beam with joy for his two best friends– and you don’t know which outcome is the one you want anymore. 

“Oh, I think I see him,” Seungmin mutters to you, and discreetly points in the direction he thinks he’s found your other best friend. You see him now too, standing near the balconies looking bored out of his mind, champagne glass in hand.

He’s not looking at anything in particular, just vaguely observing his surroundings while occasionally sipping from his drink– probably hoping you two will show up soon and save him from his boredom. You take a breath, wrap your arms around Seungmin's own arm and squeeze it close to your chest.

“Now or never,” you mutter and he nods, steeling himself for the penultimate moment just as do. “Hyunjin!” you call from across the hall, dragging Seungmin along with you as you half-sprint up to him, your designer heels loudly clanking on the marble floor.

Hyunjin returns your smile when he spots you, and laughs when he sees Seungmin practicly scowling as he’s dragged along– it’s classic, really; you always do things like this to them. Just strong arm them along everywhere you want to go, through everything you want to do. 

“Hey! I’m glad you both made it, it’s been forever,” Hyunjin smiles as you complete your approach. He feels bad he hasn’t seen either of his best friends in months, but royal duties and all.. It kept him very unfortunately occupied. He looks at you both inquisitively when you don’t let go of Seungmin’s arm or untangle yourself from him– normally you would have by now, having reached the destination you wanted to drag him to. It’s curious, to say the least. 

Your hand goes from being wrapped around Seungmin and holding his arm, to intertwining your fingers as you hold his hand. Hyunjin raises a brow, but says nothing– he’ll wait for one of you to clear up what he’s thinking.

“Mhm, we’ve been waiting to see you in person to tell you something important!” you say as you squeeze Seungmin’s hand, shooting him your best lovey dovey look before you bring your gaze back to Hyunjin. 

Seungmin wants to sigh and roll his eyes and call you dumb for looking at him like that, but he bites his tongue. It’s the last time you’ll ever shoot him with that look of pure puppy love, and it’s best not to ruin it by defaulting to his usual personality; cherish it while you have it, as they say.

“Well spit it out then, don’t keep me on the edge of my seat,” Hyunjin’s smile grows, looking between the two of you with eager anticipation to hear the confession that lingers on your tongue. 

Hyunjin’s positive reaction deters you a little; surely he can see that you’re clinging to Seungmin to an unusual degree, but he doesn’t seem to react to it negatively at all– not even minutely.

There’s no subtle furrow of the brow, no flash of sadness in his eyes that gets replaced by forced happiness, no twitch in his hands from jealousy or frustration. Seungmin was right, as always; Hyunjin is just going to be a good friend. He won’t have a single negative thing to say. 

“W-Well, we.. uh–” you stumble on your words, and curse yourself for floundering at the most pivotal moment. This is what everything you’ve done has been leading up to, you can’t falter now; and yet, you are.

You look at Seungmin and your grip on his hand tightens, panic unwittingly settling in as a lump forms in your throat. He flashes you a look of sympathy, squeezes your hand in a subtle show of comfort, before he turns away from your gaze to look at Hyunjin. 

He doesn’t like it, but he’ll take the lead from here; for your sake. “We’re dating,” he says as confidently and smoothly as he can bring himself to. He lets go of your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you closer for added effect, sincerely tries his best to spark the jealousy he knew you wanted to see. But Hyunjin doesn’t look jealous, or sad, or even angry. He just looks.. happy. 

“Gosh, finally! Congrats! I always knew you two would end up together,” Hyunjin grins and gives Seungmin a friendly pat on the shoulder. You blink as you stare between them. Huh..? Finally? What does that mean?

Even Seungmin is taken aback, and mirrors what you were internally thinking. But unlike you, his utterly shocked ‘huh?’ comes out verbally. “Yeah, I always saw the way you were looking at her, Minnie. You were so obvious, I knew it was only a matter of time,” Hyunjin says with enthusiastic joy that sends you completely off kilter.

What the fuck.

You feel like your entire world has been flipped upside down. What does he mean he always saw the way Seungmin looked at you? How did he look at you..? How does he look at you?

Hyunjin’s puzzled now as he looks between you both; you look like your entire sense of reality has been shifted, while Seungmin looks positively mortified. “Sorry, uh– did he not mention that when he confessed?” Hyunjin asks, and then shit– maybe you were the one who confessed.

Seungmin is stubborn and aloof in his cool persona, he's the type to avoid saying what he really thinks by using teasing words, will only look at you softly when he thinks no one else is looking his way. Hyunjin can easily imagine that he has yet to admit the true depth of his secret pining, or confessed how much he actually likes you. He feels bad for outing Seungmin if that’s the case. 

“My bad, I assumed you knew since you’re dating now and all,” he laughs a bit awkwardly while shooting Seungmin a sympathetic look. One that’s meant to say ‘sorry for blowing your stubborn, cool-guy persona.’ It’s just.. Hyunjin thought it was as obvious to you as it was to him.

The way his hard expression would soften the minute you smiled at him, how he’d laugh when you’d banter back after he said something teasing and mean, how his eyes would always linger on even if there were countless other people in the room.. Wasn’t it obvious he liked you this entire time? 

“I guess I’m just surprised to hear you call it out,” you try to recover from the blatant shock, play it off as something different than it is– as if you knew all along, and you’re just surprised that Hyunjin knew too.

Hyunjin chuckles a little, looking a bit more relieved after your statement. “Sorry if I ruined the illusion of Seungmin being the cool, aloof type. He’s actually a big softie, but I guess you’ve realized that by now,” he smiles. 

“Yeah I, uh– I’ve realized that,” you smile back, a bit tensely, but a smile nonetheless, “That’s what I like about him.” Seungmin, still trying to recover from his own world being flipped upside down, finally looks at you again.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to recover from this wildly unexpected turn in the conversation. Still realizing he has his hand on your waist, and unsure where you now stand and whether or not this is appropriate or okay anymore, he hesitantly lets you go. 

You hold his hand when he does, but it doesn’t feel like solace or consolation the way it normally would. Not hollow, or empty, but just.. not full of the same warmth it normally carries.

He’s so impossibly anxious and scared– that you’re furious with him, that you’ll cut him off when the night is over, that you’ll accuse him of sabotaging this whole thing by agreeing to be your pretend boyfriend when he had very real feelings for you. 

In reality, you just feel terrible about yourself and what you’ve caused. You already felt bad before the night began, and now you feel even worse– you never would’ve asked Seungmin to do this if you'd known he had feelings for you.

And now his feelings were called out in the worst way possible, and you don’t think you’ll ever scrub how mortified Seungmin looked in that moment from your memory. And it was entirely your fault. 

He should’ve been allowed the chance to tell you on his own terms, and you ruined that chance. You probably also ruined any chance at having a normal relationship with him if you wanted one– because how do you recover from the humiliation of being called out on something you thought was a well guarded secret, right in front of the very person that secret was about. This entire time, he’s liked you, maybe even loved you, and you undeniably hurt him. 

He tried to deter you, he told you this wouldn’t work and he tried to resist but you pressed and pushed and prodded until he gave in. And while you could argue some of his acts were not entirely selfless, as you’re sure he must’ve enjoyed kissing you and being close to you knowing what you do now, how could you blame him for indulging in a love with someone he wanted to be with while expecting, believing, knowing, it would come to an end when you got what you wanted?

All those years you spent pining over Hyunjin, Seungmin spent them pining over you, and he just listened, he took it in, and he never stopped supporting you, not even once. Even tonight, when it was probably breaking his heart to do so, he tried his best to reassure you, he tried to make Hyunjin jealous on your behalf..

And he complained, sure he did, but it was more part of the usual banter between you two than jealousy or hurt. At least, that’s what you always thought it was.. You never imagined there’d be anything more hiding beneath the surface. 

You should’ve known, though. It should’ve been obvious– how can you call yourself Seungmin’s best friend and not have realized? And it’s not that you missed the signs because you were willfully ignorant, but you were so tunnel-visioned, selfish, and absorbed that you never stopped to notice any of the changes. It wasn’t even until recently that you realized how much a wall he’d put up, how much he’d forced distance between you..

It makes sense, in hindsight; that it wasn’t for your sake that he stopped doing certain things and acting certain ways, but his own. While you were watching Hyunjin like a hawk for any sign that he might like you, you missed all the signs Seungmin left. You never noticed a single thing, and being reminded of how selfishly you’d spent the teenage years of your friendship makes your heart ache terribly.

“Hey uh, sorry to cut this short but.. I think Seungmin’s feeling embarrassed. Might be in need of a reset, y’know?” you say, trying to come across as a happy girlfriend stealing the chance to tease her boyfriend while also still having his best interest at heart. You look at Seungmin, try to offer him reassurance despite the situation, but he doesn’t look back at you.

He’s facing Hyunjin, but he doesn’t look at him either, not really. It feels like he’s far away, somewhere distant that you can’t reach, busy reconstructing all the walls he’d let fall away, trying to build them back up as high as he can in preparation for the heartbreak he’s soon to face. 

“Of course,” Hyunjin smiles, giving his full blessing, “just come find me again later! I’d rather be a third wheel with you two lovebirds than listen to my father drone on about tax management again.” You giggle a bit and nod, waving him goodbye and forcing Seungmin out of his haze by dragging him away with you.

You glance around as you push through the crowd for a private space to talk– your guest room is much too far away and the tension while going back would likely be too much for either of you to bear; better to find somewhere nearby to have this conversation. You fail to make it to a room after exiting the ballroom; Seungmin stops in the middle of the hallway, preventing you from dragging him along, and you’re forced to let him go and turn around to look at him.

He’s pained and lost but he tries to bring himself back to the aloof persona he once had mastered, to not show how hurt and afraid he is right now. But the cracked mask that is his cool facade has splintered irreparably, and you can only see him for who he really is now. 

“Sorry it didn’t work out how you wanted. Sucks, and I know you must be hurt, but don’t give up, you can still try again, maybe there’s something else you haven’t thought of yet, you can–” Seungmin speaks in a quick ramble, not even acknowledging the massive elephant in the room; his feelings for you.

“Seungmin,” you cut him off with a frown, and he’s hesitant to meet your gaze; he doesn’t know what he’ll be met with, and try as he might to reconstruct himself back to the person he was before this whole thing started, he knows deep down it’d be in vain. 

Your friendship has been irrevocably changed, and to pretend otherwise would be futile. Still, he can’t stop himself from trying– it’s all he can think to do. “You have feelings for me,” you state it plainly, and Seungmin swallows but says nothing.

Doesn’t confirm, nor deny, because both options seem fucking terrible if he’s honest. Denying it is pointless and would just be a blatant lie, and confirming, making it clear that he agreed to be your fake boyfriend despite his feelings for you.. He doesn’t know how that makes him look.

In Seungmin’s head, you’ll either view him as pathetic or as a saboteur, and neither is ideal. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? If I’d known I’d never have..”

He scoffs at your sentiment and looks at you incredulously. “And why would I have? You’ve been obsessed with Hyunjin for years. And I’m supposed to tell you how I feel? Be serious Y/N, there’s no way I could’ve ever told you. And even if I had, you would’ve rejected me, so what would’ve been the point?” 

“I–” you want to say that’s not true, that you wouldn’t have rejected him or broken his heart, but who are you kidding? It absolutely fucking is. It hurts to hear it this way, but he isn’t wrong about any of it.

Still, just because he’s right, that doesn’t mean you’re entirely wrong either. Even if you’d have rejected him, surely he still should’ve been honest with you? You’d never have done this if you’d known. 

You made mistakes, but so did he, right? You know you've been selfish for way too long, but you're not the kind of person to intentionally hurt a friend. You never would've dragged Seungmin through the mud just to get what you want, and the fact that he hid his feelings and allowed himself to be hurt just to make you happy.. That's not the kind of thing you want him to do.

Your friendship shouldn't be built on Seungmin's self-sacrifice, he shouldn't allow himself to be second place just to make you and Hyunjin happy. To be selfless is a virtue, but too much can leave him with nothing, and that's been your concern since the day you realized how selfish you've been.

You realized that Seungmin will give, and give, and give, and he'll never ask you for anything in return. But that’s not what friendship and love should be built upon. Surely he understands that you never wanted this– for your best friend to offer himself up as your emotional martyr.

And with the confusion of your feelings compounding on it, the realization that maybe it’s Seungmin who you love while your infatuation with Hyunjin was hardly more than a fairytale childhood crush– how are you supposed to live with yourself after causing unspeakable heartache to him? And would he even believe you if you told him that you love him? You don’t even know if you can believe yourself.

He sees how hurt you are, the confusion and the guilt and the sorrow, and the anger that grew within him instantly deflates. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped you, I just– I need to be alone,” Seungmin mutters his apology and walks briskly past you, towards the direction of the guest hall.

You call to him, but he doesn’t stop or turn around, and you don’t follow. You want to, but you know you should respect that he needs time to himself; he has a lot to process, as you’re sure you do too. You owe it to him, yourself, and even Hyunjin, to sort out your feelings too.

Seungmin didn't see you or Hyunjin again that night, couldn't bring himself to keep playing the pretend boyfriend after every thing that happened. He went to your guest room for his stuff, isolated himself in his own room for the remainder of the evening, leaving the door to your room unlocked and the key resting on the desk so you could get in and out without having to speak with him.

He felt bad about it, but he just couldn't face you again; it was too difficult. Apparently, you returned to the ballroom alone and told Hyunjin the truth. Seungmin knows because he woke up in the middle of the night to countless texts from Hyunjin– apologizing, saying he didn't know, offering his condolences and to be there for him. It fucking sucked, made him feel like even more of a pathetic loser.

You told Hyunjin the truth because it felt like the right thing to do following what happened; he would've known eventually anyways, so it felt better to rip the band-aid off right away.

And you confessed a lot more than just that; you told Hyunjin everything. About how this whole thing started, about your confusion on how you felt now, about how terribly your heart ached after realizing how much damage you'd caused.

Hyunjin offered you his shoulder to cry on, hugged you and apologized even though he didn’t need to, and ironically, that’s partly what gave you the answer you were looking for.

Because your heart didn’t pound when he hugged you, you didn’t get butterflies when he wiped your tears, your face didn’t flush when offered his hand for support. It was so platonic– and the only time you smiled was when he said he was sure Seungmin would forgive you and everything will work out.

It’s over a day when Seungmin finally sees you again; you have to pass through his city to get to yours, and so it always made sense to leave Hyunjin’s castle together when traveling home. The ride is tense and awkward, to say the least.

You can’t bring yourself to say a word and neither can he, the two of you only taking peeks at each other when you’re sure the other isn’t looking. Seungmin stares out the window and you stare at your hands resting in your lap, while your driver compensates for the unusual atmosphere by turning up the radio.

Approaching Seungmin’s estate makes you indescribably emotional. A lump forms in your throat when the door is opened for him and he exits the car, you clench your fists and try to swallow down the intense emotion when the door closes and you watch him begin to walk away.

It doesn’t feel right, none of this feels right. You’re worried that if you don’t talk now, then you never will; that the damage will be irreparable if you let the distance grow and feelings fester. You need to talk to Seungmin, and you need to do it now. 

You hastily unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door, running out to chase after Seungmin and not stopping even as your driver calls to you from behind. Seungmin, who is almost to his front door, turns around when he hears the commotion, and is surprised to see you quickly approaching him.

“What are you doing..?” he can’t help but ask; really though, he shouldn’t be surprised. You always do things like this, and once you’ve made a decision to do something, you’ll stubbornly stick to that decision ‘til the end. You’ve decided you’re going to talk to him, and he knows there’ll be no getting out of it.

“We need to talk,” you assert yourself clearly, even go as far as to step past him and into his house before he can. What a brat; he almost smiles from how familiar it is. The guards who were holding the door open for Seungmin look a little puzzled, but they make no comment– it’s not their place to do so. Seungmin doesn’t see you when he steps inside, but it’s easy enough to guess where you went. 

And he finds you exactly where he expected to, waiting for him right outside his bedroom door. Now or never, he thinks as he unlocks it, offering for you to step inside first. You do just that, waiting until follows behind and closes the door to speak.

“What are we now? Friends? More than friends? ..Neither?” you cut straight to the chase, leaving no room for awkward and unnecessary pre-emptive small talk. “I don’t know. Isn’t that up to you?” Seungmin says, stepping past you to sit on his bed. 

You frown as you watch him, but stay firm. “It shouldn’t be entirely up to me. What do you want?” “Does it matter what I want?” Seungmin cuts back. It’s a bit harsh, but he’s still trying to defend against his heart getting torn to shreds; you can’t entirely blame him.

“Of course it matters,” you tell him, voice soft with pain. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, sighing as he flops back and stares at the ceiling. He knows he needs to stop snapping at you, his pain isn’t all in your hands. It takes two to tango, and he did more than his fair share of leading the dance. 

Honesty scares him. Raw emotion scares him. Telling you how he’s always felt about you scares him, and telling you what he hopes you’ll be scares him. But that fear has always been a hindrance, and he needs to stop being shackled by it; especially when you’re trying so hard to hear what he really has to say. 

“I’ve always liked you, for years I’ve liked you. But you– I didn’t think there was anything I could do. So I just.. didn't do anything.” 

You sit down next to him, looking down at him as you do, and he in turn moves his gaze towards you. You can see the apprehension in his eyes, and maybe it’s presumptuous of you to do so, but you lay your hand over his in an effort to reassure him. He looks a bit surprised, but he accepts it, and rotates his hand around so you can hold it properly.

“I try not to, but even now I still want to be with you,” he admits, and it’s not easy for him to do, but he can’t shove down how he feels anymore– not if he wants a chance with you. 

“So I didn’t ruin what we have?” you ask and Seungmin quickly sits up, squeezing your hand as he does.

“Of course not, I mean– I was upset and I took it out on you, but.. You could never ruin anything,” he says, emphasizing the point by moving closer to you; and it makes you feel warm and happy. Because he’s bridging the gap on his own, willingly putting his walls back down, leaving the mask off.

“I'm so sorry for everything, I really am. And it's okay if you don't want to, but can we go back to what we were before? Well– not before before, but like– when you were my fake boyfriend. But not fake this time either, I want you to be my real boyfriend, and–” You’re rambling, you know, but you’re just trying to be clear, you just don’t want to mess this up again, so–

“Shut up already, idiot,” Seungmin says, an affectionate smile and lilt in his voice before he’s pressing his lips to yours to stop your rambling himself. “Don’t be an asshole when I’m pouring my heart out,” you complain, smiling despite yourself.

“I thought you wanted to go back to before though?” he says with a grin, and you roll your eyes and shove him, mumbling ‘I hate you’ while he chuckles. And it feels good. It feels like everything you’ve been missing and everything you needed. No tension, no dread, no fear– the way it should have always been.

You kiss him first this time, and he pulls you in closer, lets you crawl your way into his lap the way you’ve wanted to for weeks at this point (not that he’s even aware how much you’ve fantasized about it– at least, you hope he hasn’t.)

“I missed you,” you breathe as you settle on his lap, and he pulls away, looks up at you with the smug smile that tells you a smartass comment is going to follow. “We were only apart for like, a day,” he can’t help himself from saying, laughing softly when you pout and whine. 

“I know that! But it was the most miserable day of my life, I’ll have you know,” you huff, pout growing as you turn your face away and cross your arms. Seungmin’s expression softens, and he reaches out to your face, rests his hand on your cheek and urges you to look at him again.

He understands, he really does; it was just as miserable for him. So many doubts and fears wreaking havoc on his brain and making him assume the worst had still yet to come. “I missed you too,” he mumbles softly, earnestly, and a bit shy. 

Seungmin isn’t used to vulnerability and honesty, but he’ll get used to it for you. He’ll learn to tell you over and over again how much he loves you if that’s what you need. And the dynamic you have is fun; you like the banter, the teasing, and how much affection lies beneath the surface of his spoken words. You don’t expect him to completely change, nor do you want him to; but he can stand to be a little more open with his feelings. Just a little.

"Got you to admit it," you smile, and he scoffs when he realizes he's been duped. He calls you a brat, lovingly and affectionately, before he’s kissing you again. You push him backwards onto the bed, gentle but still assertive, continuing to kiss him while his hands find purchase on your hips. He lets out that little sigh as you kiss him– the one that always drives you crazy and makes your stomach do flips.

You used to feel guilt over what that noise caused you to think, the way it caused your body to react and where it led your mind to wander. You wonder if it’s okay now; to allow your mind to go there, if Seungmin would be okay with going further than you’ve gone before– kissing new spots, touching new places, experiencing new sensations. You wonder if he’s thought about it as much as you have, and if guilt made him swallow it down when he did, same as you. 

In the few months of your fake relationship, despite all that practiced closeness and kissing, you never made out– you’ve gotten close, hands starting to roam slightly too close to an intimate place, tongues just seconds away from passing parted lips, but one of you would always stop when you realized you were about to get carried away. And he’d gotten hard more than once, but you always pretended not to notice, acting like you didn’t feel it pressing into your thigh while your legs were tangled together. 

Acknowledging it would’ve meant confronting feelings you weren’t ready to at the time, and there was always the possibility it meant nothing, that it was just a physical reaction independent of his brain and how he felt about you. But now that you know all that you do, you hope it means he’s always wanted more with you..

And you have to admit, the self restraint it’d take not to act on his desires makes him all the more appealing. What can you say except consent is key, and knowing he has self control even when he wants you bad is sexy.

He does it again– that unconscious squeeze of your hips the more you kiss him, and you wonder what exactly it stems from; a desire to have you as close as possible, a way to ground himself as he gets worked up, or maybe even both. You hope it's both.

You pull away from his kiss, sitting up and staring down at him, your hands lingering on his chest. “I want to ask you something,” you speak softly, voice almost a whisper, face growing impossibly hot. “And don’t give me a smartass reply, or I’m leaving!” You follow up sternly, and Seungmin chuckles, grabs one of the hands you have resting on his chest, and intertwines your fingers. 

“I won’t, promise,” he says, not a hint of teasing in his voice or his smile. As fun as it is to tease you and poke fun, he can tell when the moment calls for him to be earnest and take you seriously. You breathe a sigh of relief, or maybe you’re letting out a breath to ground yourself before you speak; either way, Seungmin watches you attentively, a bit puzzled but entirely patient.

“Do you.. Did you ever think about, uh– doing more when we were kissing..?” you ask, nervously chewing on your lip as you wait for him to respond. “Oh,” Seungmin blinks, his own face growing hot alongside yours. He promised he’d give an honest, serious answer, but even if he didn’t, he doubts he would’ve been able to play it off.

Looking into your eyes while he tries to admit it makes the words lodge in his throat, so he turns his head and looks away, the hot red of his blush burning all the way to the tips of his ears. Same as when he admitted he wanted to kiss you, all he says is “yes.” No elaboration, no ifs, whens, or buts; just yes. And that’s all he needs to say, really. It speaks for itself.

He hesitates to look back at you and see your reaction, but the moment he does turn his head, you’re kissing him again, more eager and impassioned than you ever have before, the noise of surprise he lets out muffled by your lips. Your tongue peeks out, just barely brushes over his own, almost cautious, and an involuntary noise of approval escapes you when you feel his tongue slip past his lips to meet yours.

You separate your hand from Seungmin’s, and he brings his hand back to your hip while yours returns to his chest. You open your mouth for him, invite his tongue further in, and he squeezes your hips once more when you do. The feeling of his tongue sliding against yours is dizzying, makes your stomach fill to the brim with butterflies, excitement building in your gut in ways you’ve never experienced. 

You feel him growing hard beneath you, and you don’t ignore it the way you would have before; you purposely press into it, grind yourself down on Seungmin’s lap and swallow the gasp he lets out. You lose track of how long you stay like this, grinding on his lap while your tongues swirl around each other's, your heavy breaths and every noise swallowed by the other. You’re out of breath by the time you finally pull away, your chests rapidly rising and falling, his shirt twisted in your palms. 

Seungmin looks almost dazed, and to be fair, you sort of are too; neither of you ever expected you’d be here like this. To Seungmin, you were unobtainable; someone he loved but could never have, and he tried so many times to make his peace with it, though he never could.

There's a part of him that still can’t even believe you’re choosing him, that thinks maybe this is a dream he’ll soon wake up from. And in your case, it took you too long to realize your priorities were wrong, and your feelings didn’t always mean what you thought they did; that love is more than what looks good and correct on paper. 

You realized you don’t need perfection and matching titles and fairytale romance. Love doesn’t follow a formula, it doesn’t adhere to standards of nobility and preconceived notions on who a princess should love. You have two best friends, and they’re both vitally important to you, but the one you truly fell in love with turned out to be so opposite from what you thought your type truly was.

You love Seungmin, with his quips, sarcasm, imperfections, and all. It’s unfortunate you didn’t realize it sooner, but you’re happy you’re sure of it now. And now that you have him, you’re never letting him go. 

“I want you,” you tell him, and though you’re the most shy you’ve ever been, and can’t quite look him in the eye as you admit it, you still get it out, clear and direct. It’s impressive, enviable, how shyness doesn’t prevent you from ever speaking your mind.

“Do you.. want me too?” you ask, and he can feel your hands trembling as you continue to hold onto his shirt, waiting for his answer with bated breath. “Yes,” he assures; always has, and always will. 

You smile before you lean down to capture his lips in another kiss, wet, hot and messy. “This okay?” you pull away just slightly to ask, still so close that he can feel your every breath on his lips, your hand traveling down his chest and over his stomach. More than okay, he wants to say, but all that he can manage to let out is another “yes.” Your fingers ghost over the hem of his pants, his breath hitching when you palm him over the fabric.

It’s embarrassing how much pre-cum has stained and moistened the fabric of his pants, and he’s sure you can feel it beneath your hand. He closes his eyes, furrows his brows as he tries not to become flustered and increasingly more red. A breathy groan escapes him when you slide your hand inside, your hand encircling his cock, and he opens his eyes to look at you, twitching involuntarily when he sees the hungry look in your eyes. 

You kiss him when he starts to bite at his lip, greedily swallow every groan that tumbles out of him. Seungmin can’t believe how much better your hand feels than his own, how soft and warm and perfect– and when you pull away from his lips to stare down at him, he looks up at you like you hold the entire world in your hands. You’ve never done this before, but instinct carries you far, and if Seungmin’s reactions are any sign, you’re doing a good enough job so far. 

Carefully removing your hand from inside his pants and sitting up completely, you move your hands to the end of your dress, where it pools on your upper thighs, and take it in your hands, pulling it up and over your head, tossing it onto the floor behind you. Seungmin’s eyes grow wide, swallowing thickly as he stares at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but it makes sense that you’d do this; you’ve always been the type to act first and foremost. 

You smile at him, shy and sweet, but still impossibly confident too. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, let him grope you over your bra, and it sends him reeling. You’re assertive, direct, a go-getter; when you know you want something, you just go for it, simple as that. But still, this is– you’re gonna drive him crazy before the night is over. You reach behind your back, unhook your bra with familiar ease, the straps sliding down your arm.

Seungmin swallows, knowing the moment he lets you go your bra will fall from your body and expose your chest to him. Deciding to take a page out of your book, and display some confidence despite the fact that his face is impossibly hot, he takes his hands away, lifts his back off the bed and pulls his own shirt off before he can get distracted by the image of you bare before him.

You toss your fallen bra aside, and he allows himself to stare for just a moment before he brings a hand to the nape of your neck and brings you down to kiss him. You squeak in surprise, but then he feels you smiling against his lips as you return his kiss. Mirroring what you did before, his hand travels between your thighs, feeling your heat over your panties. It’s a bit of an awkward reach that causes strain on his arm, but the minute he feels the wet patch, he doesn’t even fucking think about the strain anymore. 

Seungmin brings his fingers to the hem of your panties, glancing at you before he moves any further. You nod at him, giving him permission to slip his hand inside. And fuck, you’re soaked– he barely even has to move his fingers around to get them completely coated. “You’re– ‘s so wet,” he breathes out, almost amazed, and you whine, burying your face in his shoulder as some semblance of shyness finally clutches you.

“Your fault,” you mumble, and Seungmin chuckles, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “You’re cute when you’re being shy,” he tells you, and you quickly lift your head to glare at him.

“Don’t get cocky, I will actually kill you,” you threaten. “And spend the rest of your life without me when just one day makes you miserable?” he teases, and you whine, grabbing one of his pillows and hitting him with it. 

“Remind me to never tell you when I miss you ever again,” you huff, and Seungmin coos, the menace that he is, before he pulls you into a sweet, passionate kiss. You easily melt into it, further complaints dying when his tongue touches yours. He takes your breasts in his hands again, thumbs rubbing over your nipples and making your entire body shudder. You gasp when he takes them between his fingers, squirming and whimpering when he rolls and softly pinches them. 

His cock unceremoniously twitches in response to your pleasured noises, each one driving him crazier than the last; he needs you bad. “Want you,” he mumbles against your lips, and you hum, pulling away to look at him.

“Wanna fuck me?” you ask, head tilted as a coy smile plays on your lips. Fucking hell– you call him a menace, but you’re the real threat here; you make him insane. “Isn’t that obvious?” he asks, ignoring the heat on his face and trying to act as unphased by your words as possible. 

“Yeah, it is actually,” you smile and he scoffs, rolling his eyes as you giggle. Menace. You lift your hips off his lap, moving off to the side of the bed so you can slide your panties down your legs. He watches you intently, swallowing when you turn back to him and gaze at him expectantly.

Right, he has to get undressed too. Lifting off the bed, he tries not to think about the fact that you’re staring at him as he pulls his pants and underwear down his thighs in one motion. You crawl back in his lap when he’s finished kicking the bunched fabric off his legs, neither of you paying any mind to where on his floor it lands.

Seungmin’s brain feels like it’s going to short circuit while he’s staring at you; you’re beautiful, sexy, straddling his lap entirely naked, a moment he thought would only ever exist in his wet dreams. You take a breath, steady your nerves as you reach between your bodies to take his cock in your hand. 

It twitches in your hand, throbs as you align it with your dripping hole. You swallow, glancing back up at Seungmin’s face before you act. He can’t take your other hand in his as you’re using it to support your weight, so instead he reaches for your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. You lean into his touch, smiling softly and indulging in his affection for just a moment before you start to slowly sink down on him. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder as you continue. Even just the sensation of the tip pushing inside is overwhelming, and the more of him you take, the more the pleasure in your gut builds. It’s unfamiliar, there’s a sting and a dull ache, but mostly it just feels good– better than anything you’ve ever felt. 

You open your eyes and look at Seungmin when your hips are finally flush with his, butterflies exploding when you see him struggling to keep himself together. His breaths are harsh and heavy, sweat dripping down his forehead, jaw clenched as he tries to prevent himself from cumming too fast. “You– you okay?” he asks, voice tense with effort, and you nod, leaning down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. 

He throbs when you do, his hands moving to your hips and holding them tightly, your naked chests pressed together. When you’re ready, you experimentally roll your hips, whimpering softly into the kiss while you cling to his body. He groans with each slow roll of your hips, and it takes all he has not to bruise you in his grip and to stop his hips from chasing yours when you start to carefully bounce. 

It’s slow at first, still adjusting and finding the rhythm you're most comfortable with, what works for you and what feels good, but when you figure it out, God, please have mercy on him. The noises you make turn his brain into an absolute puddle, and when you whimper out his name he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to recover. And the way you clench around him, the wet sounds between your legs and of your thighs slapping together each time your hips rise and fall back to his lap– he can’t fucking take it. 

“M-Minnie–” you gasp, your pace faltering, legs screaming from all the exertion. “C-Close, but– ‘m tired,” you whine and pout, doing your best to push through the fatigue, but you’re not sure how much longer you can. Your legs and knees ache terribly, having been bent long before his dick was even inside you, and they’re in desperate need of a break. “Wanna switch?” he asks and you quickly nod, uttering a small “please,” as you still your hips.

Seungmin helps you lie on your back, quickly taking his place between your legs and pressing himself back inside in one swift motion. You gasp, eyes rolling back when he starts to quickly fuck into you, your hands clutching and twisting the sheets beneath you. He grabs your hands and makes you hold his instead, intertwines your fingers and makes no complaint when your nails dig into the flesh under his knuckles. 

He kisses you desperately, tongue messily swirling around yours, swallowing every loud whimper and moan that spills from your throat. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, your stomach knots and twists, your entire body trembles from the overwhelming pleasure. You snake your dominant hand from out of his grip and bring it to your clit, rubbing it in quick, messy circles. He pulls away from your lips to look between your bodies and watch, cursing when you squeeze him tighter. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping and crying, body jolting and squirming as your orgasm washes over you, hot pleasure licking every inch of your body. Seungmin’s head falls forward, gritting his teeth as he sloppily fucks you through it, his own release not far behind. You’re breathless and panting, but you grab his face and pull him into another kiss regardless, and it sends him over the edge, his eyes rolling back as his cum shoots inside you in long, hot spurts. 

Seungmin pulls out slowly, carefully, paying no mind to the mess his cum trickling out of you makes on his blankets. It doesn’t matter, he can call someone to change the sheets for him later– right now he just wants to focus on you. He lies next to you and kisses you, over and over, holding you close to his chest and squeezing you in his arms.

“Clingy, aren’t we?” you playfully mutter against his lips, and he can’t even bring himself to say something witty in response. “Yeah,” he smoothly admits, not denying one bit how infatuated he is with you, “I’m obsessed with you. That a problem?”

You blink, all the red that left your face instantly returning– you weren’t expecting a response like that, nor for him to say it so earnestly. “Not since I love you,” you say after you recover, smiling shyly and giggling when he seems surprised. “Do you?” he asks, and you pout; does he still not think you do, even after all that? 

“Of course I do! I love you so much, Minnie, you– you’re the only one I want,” you speak from the heart, and Seungmin smiles, playful and smug. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it again,” he tells you, and you shove him, whining loudly when he laughs.

“You’re such an ass!” you cry, and he pulls you back to him, hugging you close and pecking your lips when you pout. “I love you too,” he says, so sweetly that it makes you melt. 

You stay cuddled together like that for some time, limbs tangled together, comfortable and secure. Neither of you wants to be the one to break away first, and though you teased him for it, you love how clingy Seungmin can be when he lets his guard down. You hope he leaves it down a lot from now on; because you love him, and with how stubborn you are, you’ll never let him be pried from your fingers. He’s yours, and you're his, now, forever, always.

It took longer than you would’ve liked to realize it, but this is the love you’ve always wanted. Seungmin completes you, he’s your missing piece, the one who understands you. Similar in the ways that matters, and contrasts you perfectly in the places you differ.

You bicker and you tease and sometimes you fight, but you love with your whole hearts; and you’ll never again doubt that or be confused on what it is you want, because this is it. It’s not the fairytale you dreamed of as a kid, but it’s better than that; because it’s real, Seungmin’s love is real, and there’s nothing better you could ever ask for.

[ace-reviews]

WINTER 2024 ANIME RECOMMENDATIONS

I counted and there are 8.5 blonde ladies in either a lead or primary love interest role this season (8 if you count the one whose hair is sometimes black as half of one). Do what you will with this information. I only share it because it’s something that was ticking me off that I noticed.

Anyway, we’re trying out a new format this season: Instead of only recommending anime we’re not familiar with, we’re each picking one we are familiar with and one we went into completely blind.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: MR. VILLAIN’S DAY OFF

After the deluge of isekai that try to teach the importance of having a healthy work-life balance by having the lack of one kill off it’s main character in the first five minutes of the episode, it’s really nice to have something that teaches the same lesson by choosing to model what one looks like rather than killing anybody. It’s also got a lot of pandas in it, which is always nice.

ACE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: SENGOKU YOUKO

Satoshi Mizukami seemingly can’t catch a break with anime adaptations of his manga: Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer sucked and this one is being seriously overshadowed by all the other really good and/or long-looked-forward-to adaptations this season. (Planet With was an anime first so it escaped the curse.)

Anyway, please watch this and have your friends watch this and buy the Blu–Rays and have your friends buy the Blu-Rays so my dream of a (good!!!) Spirit Circle anime can someday come true.

---

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #1: SOLO LEVELING

(for the sake of our more sensitive readers, actual screenshots of the anime cannot be shown at this time)

If you like Cheat System anime, and don’t mind “a bit” of graphic violence (read: so much. There’s just so much violence.) , give this a shot. It’s based on one of the Korean manhua that made the genre what it is today, and as far as I’m concerned, they’ve done a good job being faithful to their source so far - they didn’t even give them Japanese names, you guys.

CHARLIE’S RECOMMENDATION #2: A SIGN OF AFFECTION

(adorable)

It’s cute, and disability rep is always a bonus. I like how they animated the sign language, which seems fairly realistic to me, someone who speaks no sign languages.

---

FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #1: LOOKING UP TO MAGICAL GIRLS

This is a series I’ve been following since there were only five chapters out in the manga, so I would like to preface this recommendation by saying I’m the only one who’s actually right about it. I’m a veteran, a true soul who’s stuck with it for the past x years since it first released, and as such everything I say about it is valid and correct and anything people who aren’t as familiar with it says is complete horseshit pulled out of their ass. This is a factual statement.

Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete, which has been translated for the manga as “Looking up to Magical Girls” (correct) and by vile HIDIVE as “Gushing Over Magical Girls” (bad and wrong) is a trashy, over-indulgent yuri series for weird perverts that is good, actually, (genuinely), and if the adaptation manages to capture Onanaka Akihiko’s remarkably deft hand in weaving the series’ fetish gags with the story’s genuine moments of pathos and surprising character depth then the anime will also be good, actually.

Dude trust me.

FEN’S RECOMMENDATION #2: METALLIC ROUGE

This is an anime original series about super fighting robots on Mars doing a hitman shit on android rebels for the government and also yuri, maybe. ACAB includes Rouge Redstar, watch this show.

---

BONUS RECOMMENDATIONS: DUNGEON MESHI AND ‘TIS TIME FOR “TORTURE,” PRINCESS

A recommendation to watch Dungeon Meshi is the most redundant thing on the planet this season, but even so you should still watch Dungeon Meshi. Also, Fen and I had a bit of a back-and-forth over who would recommend Torture Princess since it was something she was familiar with and something I had only heard of and I wasn’t going to recommend it because I thought she would and she apparently chose not to recommend it because she thought I was going to so take it as a recommendation both from someone who is and someone who isn’t familiar with Torture Princess to watch Torture Princess.

[ohcorny]

I remember you had a little dissertation about Loic's character in SoulSov, but did you have any thoughts on where Ysme's might be going? Just finished the prelude yesterday and your post was eye-opening for me.

as per usual my recall is not perfectly fresh because i played this in january, but i think her arc/direction is fairly straightforward based on what little we Actually, Factually know of her.

and because i care more about spoilers for this than a twenty year old bad manga series, don't click through unless you've read it

we really don't know a lot of the specifics of her background, other than she is Probably closely related to the architect(builder? like i said it's been a while i've lost my grasp on the terms) since they are like, completely identical when she's not aggressively girlmoding. we know she was involved in the religion surrounding him, and that she bailed, and that people are going to be upset that she bailed. (i think. this is how i remember it)

she strikes me as somebody who was probably raised fairly spoiled, but not spoiled in the way that she actually wanted to be spoiled. do you understand what i mean. like she's definitely trans, and being raised as a prince when you want to be a princess would piss you off, right. she has a clear aesthetic and you don't develop that from nowhere, if we take her illusions and some of the extra costume art as indicative of what she'd like to wear. she aspires to power because she knows what it tastes like, but she wants it in her flavor. she's a lying, conniving little brat, not completely clueless or sheltered, but not truly prepared for the world outside. but because she's powerful she's like 'no yeah i can do and get whatever i want. i can Make a gun and effectively shapeshift. no one can stop me.'

and then she got stopped. and then so completely Unstopped that she's not going to give up.

i think she is going to have to unlearn a lot of her bullshit, because terrible people remaining terrible all the time without changing isn't, like, a Story. and with an adult like loic in the room, even under her thumb, she is going to be steered in better directions. she will absolutely make him worse, of this i am convinced, but i think he will make her better. or at the very least better at acting like she's better. i don't think she'll ever lose the brat that makes her fundamentally ysme.

i think she is going to claw and scrape and bite but ultimately i think she is going to get what she wants. it's just not going to be exactly how she wanted it.

[ambrossart]

Very random ask but what do you think the main casts favourite movie would be?

Okay, I had a lot of help from @misszura on this one because it was pretty tough. So we did a little brainstorming and this is what we came up with.

Evelyn

Generally, Evelyn tends to prefer movies that are on the more wholesome side.

Her favorite genres include fantasy, adventure, romance, and maybe some of the more light-hearted horror movies like Gremlins. Scary, but not too scary.

The Wizard of Oz is a favorite of hers, also The Goonies, The Princess Bride, Labyrinth, The NeverEnding Story, Beetlejuice, Willow, Willy Wonka.

She likes her movies to have a little whimsy to them.

Michael J. Fox is one of her celebrity crushes (along with Jason Bateman), so she definitely likes Teen Wolf and Back to the Future

Grease is another favorite of hers. As mentioned in the story, she enjoys Olivia Newton-John’s music, and I could see her really identifying with Sandy’s character as well as her relationship with Danny.

I mean, "Hopelessly Devoted to You" might as well be the theme of Evelyn’s life, right?

Hannah-Beth forced her to watch Dirty Dancing during a sleepover, and Evelyn was surprised by how much she enjoyed it. Add Patrick Swayze to her list of celebrity crushes.

Lastly, since she spends a lot of time with kids, Evelyn watches a lot of animated movies as well.

The Land Before Time makes her bawl like a baby every time she watches it.

Henry

Henry’s not big into movies.

He doesn’t have a ton of free time to just sit around, so I feel like most of his favorite movies are going to be ones he’s watched with Belch.

And I wouldn’t even say he has “favorites” honestly

So he’ll watch a lot of action movies, your classics: Mad Max, Die Hard, The Terminator, First Blood, Predator, Commando.

Horror movies also appeal to him.

Henry enjoys watching weak people suffer and die at the hands of some great, unstoppable force.

So your classic slashers: Friday the 13th, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street.

He also enjoys Evil Dead and Hellraiser

But again, his level of engagement and enjoyment is going to be a lot lower than everyone else’s.

He has a hard time completely escaping into movies.

Patrick

Patrick’s another one who doesn’t feel any kind of special attachment to movies.

They’re all the same to him. He may as well be watching TV static.

He enjoys horror movies, though, but only when he’s watching them with other people. He finds their terrified reactions extremely fascinating and entertaining.

This concept could apply to any genre, I suppose, but horror tends to elicit the most intense response from people—girls, especially.

That being said, there are certain movies that stand out in his memory.

He was really looking forward to Cannibal Holocaust because of all the controversy surrounding it: the snuff film allegations, animal cruelty, etc.

It was a bit of a letdown.

Patrick was very disappointed to learn that nobody actually died while filming it. He was hoping it was a real snuff film. Those are a lot of fun.

As we know, Patrick likes dystopian literature, so A Clockwork Orange was right up his alley. He also enjoyed the book.

Otherwise, Patrick mostly just watches a bunch of weird (and illegal) shit.

Vic

Vic’s one of those people who tends to criticize every movie he watches.

Would I call him a snob? A little bit

Growing up, he ruined a lot of Evelyn’s favorite movies by exposing all the plot holes, continuity mistakes, and factual errors.

It got to the point where Evelyn almost stopped watching movies with him entirely.

Almost.

If given the choice, young Evelyn would have gladly had all her movies ruined if it meant spending time with Victor.

But anyway...

If Vic had to pick a favorite genre, it would probably be science fiction, movies like Blade Runner, Alien, Dune.

He doesn’t like to advertise these interests, so if anyone asked, he’d probably just say action or horror and be done with it.

Sci-fi is for nerds and geeks, after all.

Belch

Belch probably has the most diverse movie tastes of everyone

That boy will watch anything, truly anything.

As mentioned in Henry’s section, he loves all the classic 80s action movies, especially the ones starring Schwarzenegger, Stalone, or Segal, but he also enjoys a good comedy: movies like Police Academy and Animal House, Stripes, Blues Brothers.

A lover of baseball, Belch has watched The Bad News Bears many times, especially when he was younger.

This Is Spinal Tap is another favorite of his. Christie actually introduced him to that one.

Horror movies? They’re not his personal cup of tea, but they’re fun to watch with a group or on a date (especially on a date)

When he’s with Christie, he usually lets her pick the movie, so he watches a lot of John Hughes movies. Belch doesn’t mind.

He just likes movies in general.

[plaudiusplants]

Love's Labour's Lost, so far (I am only partway through act 1 scene 1):

(Enter THE KING and HIS THREE BEST FRIENDS)

KING: Alright guys! Who's ready to enact a three-year New Year's resolution!!!

ALL: "Hell yeah!" "Awesome!" "Let's go!" "Woo!" (Etc)

KING: First of all: we're gonna get so smart!!!! We're gonna stay in this castle for three whole years doing nothing but studying!!!!

FRIENDS: (more excited agreement noises)

KING: And we're gonna eat six whole meals!! Every single week!!

FRIENDS ONE and TWO: (excited agreement noises)

FRIEND THREE: wait what?

KING: And we're gonna sleep for three whole hours!! Every single night!!

FRIENDS ONE and TWO: (still enthusiastically agreeing)

FRIEND THREE: hang on only three hours a night?

KING: And we're not gonna so much as look at a single woman!!! This is because I'm very very straight and I don't want to be pulled from the devotion of my studies!!! That is a factual statement!!!

FRIENDS ONE and TWO: (these guys are really really into it for some reason)

FRIEND THREE: wait hang on let me read that legal contract you got us all to sign. (skimming) This says that any women found within a mile of the castle is to have her tongue cut out???

FRIEND TWO: Yeah! I put that part in!

THREE: why??

TWO: so they won't come within a mile of the castle, obviously.

THREE: dude, I'm not signing this! (to the king) Your majesty, you're aware that you invited the Princess of France over, right? And that she's gonna be here this week? And that she's gonna have servants? Actually, are you aware that you have female servants????

KING: oh yeah lol I forgot about that. Oh well! That sounds like a problem for Future Me! Sucks to be him lmao

[bapydemonprincess]

A Polyamorous Proposition

It felt as if the animosity between the two demons had gone on for eons. Though, not actually as terrible as the grudge between Sebastian and Faustus. He still held his grown warily when Hannah Annafellows approached him, her natural aura of power pressing around not only him, but everything in the general vicinity.

"Naberius," she started, claiming her power over him with just her ability to say his true name so easily and for her first words to him.

"...I have a proposition to make."

The demon before her known as Sebastian Michaelis, butler to the Phantomhive Manor currently, could not possibly comprehend why Hannah Annafellows, a mighty, ancient, Matriarch Ranked demoness of Hell, wish to give him, a Marquis, a proposition... of any kind.

"What is it, my Lady?" He intoned. On guard but still courteous. For despite his lack of trust in even her, the natural instinct to respect a demoness of higher power and rank was impossible to ignore after centuries of it ingrained into their kind's brains.

"You have a mate, Naberius. That I know. I remember the little maid from the times your entourage arrived at Trancy manor for your boy to squabble and scrap with mine."

".....What about my mate?"

He could not hold back, no matter this time the centuries of respect and common sense not to start anything screaming within his very being.

A demon's mate took precedence over even their own existence.

Annafellows knew this... and it made her smile.

As she spoke next she let her pretty fangs show from behind her lavender lips, still smiling all the while.

"I find myself feeling.. amorous towards her; drawn to her. Body and soul, Naberius."

She paused for that straight faced, factual confession to linger, and then she continued.

"And I wish to propose an alliance, of the mating sort."

Though again the Marquis felt their entire being rage with the desire to fend off anyone from getting near their mate if their intentions were to also court her, the knowledge that the Matriarch came to him peacefully and told him this won over, and he stood obediently in place, not flinching.

...Merely lifting his chin and baring his own fangs towards her just as a warning.

He would die where he stood if he turned this down and he knew it and he knew this particular demoness wasn't above carrying on to go to his mate and attempt to claim her anyways.

"Should this proposal not be made with Mey Rin herself present? As I know you are inclined toward females, I would have assumed you'd know better than to talk about one behind their backs."

Suddenly, lean majestic hands were hovering by the Marquis' face, and then cupping it.

Gently.

"Well, I know that would indeed insult you in more than one way, true,"

A finger of hers, originally just as black as any other demons nails, now a darker purple than her lips, stroked the paler soft skin of the taller demon before her.

Like trying to lull a little animal into a sense of calm, or trust.

"When I discovered my own feelings towards the little maid Mey Rin, I did indeed recall that she is yours, and also that she has been yours before even you knew it to be so."

Hannah Annafellows had twisted her voice to one of tender soft tones, of relaxing and easing.

It wasn't even a making of her abilities of a demoness, but merely her long long wisdom of how to appease to others of many races, including her own.

Especially another demon such as Naberius; a corvid demon of pride and ego, which needed to be placated like a maid comforting her charge- a delicate princess -into believing everything would be alright.

Though of course at the present, that was not entirely true.

Naberius stared on at her, stiffly, as she stroked his jaw with her finger.

For this topic was about his mate Mey Rin.

And no gentle coaxing of a powerful, pretty demoness would calm him.

In fact, he wasn't even breathing right now, as he stood before her, narrowed red gaze laveled at her.

"I do not care about my own desires in this moment, no matter what I am, currently."

Sebastian Michaelis intoned proudly, lifting a hand finally to wrap fingers around Hannah's hand, to grasp the other demon's wrist and hold it.

"For above all, I am Mey Rin's mate. And she is mine. And her desires outweigh my own."

Hannah smiled, of course, and very slowly moved her hand away from the other's face, letting him keep hold of her wrist all the while until her hand was returned to her own side.

"Very good, dear Marquis. I am outstandingly proud and relieved to hear this; It would've been such a disappointment if you'd given in and let me pass through to see her right away."

Naberius still remained staring her down, face now having been in this position of eyeing the demoness so long, it reminded her own a hunting cat in the wilds.

"... I have mentally called her to come here and meet with us," he stated matter of factly.

And kept it to that.

Minutes later the patter of feet and the huff of breaths could be heard approaching fast.

And then behind Sebastian Michaelis' form still taking up the entirety of the front door, the Maid of Phantomhive, Mey Rin, was barely seen, big brown eyes shining with curiosity behind her big shielding glasses.

Still panting a little, Mey Rin spoke up.

"S- Sebastian, wh.. what's Miss Annafellows doin' here? Is.. is everythin' alright??"

Her alertness and concern for the butler she knew all this time was a powerful demon who did not ever need to be protected by a human in most cases was out in full display from the start.

The demons shared one more look between each other.

And then Sebastian turned in the doorway, and extended an arm out as if to present Hannah to Mey Rin.

"Everything is fine, worry not, Carissima,"

The butler made sure to call his mate by his designated pet name for her.

"Miss Annafellows merely wished to.. propose an idea she had. Involving.. the both of us."

In seconds after this endearing sight of placation, the little maid took another step forward, hands demurely now in front of her and clasped together.

But with eyes sharply trained on Hannah behind her mask of quant spectacles.

For the demoness knew this too about the human woman before her.

And it actually drew her to the human woman even more.

"Um, well," Mey Rin tried to get out, "what is it you're p.. proposin' to us?"

And the demoness smiled as warmly as a demon hopelessly in love could, and bent herself slightly in a bow, hand to her chest.

"Why, for something I believe has been long overdue, my dear Mey Rin."

And then she moved her hand outwards, in offering to the smaller woman.

And Mey Rin, being a very careful and guarded human in the first place, had to observe the offered hand for a few minutes longer than the typical human would.

Before she finally unlaced her own hands and lifted one back, to very cautiously bring it up to Hannah's.

And after realizing what was meant to happen here a second longer of freezing up and thinking more...

Mey Rin rested her tiny palm on top of Hannah's.

And Hannah let her fingers curl in around that hand, and then slowly pull it back.

This process made the maid take another step foward.

And then Hannah was kissing the maid's tiny hand with lavender lips.

Eyes closed in the process of enjoying the endevor.

Not needing to see even the reaction on the maid.

As her eyes grew wider behind her spectacles.

Lips just barely parting.

And cheeks reddening to a bright bloom.

Nor did she need to see the glance after, of maid stuck in this moment, but looking up imploringly, at the other participant at her side.

And the mere silent moment between them, staring at each other, firmly and seriously.

In their secret mental conversation, the intimacy only granted between them as true, bonded mates.

Before finally the butler's eyes closed and he nodded only once.

Somehow, miraculously, having been so calm and manageable this whole time, despite how this all came to be.

And then, smiling now, if very hesitant still, Mey Rin tugged on her hand, in Hannah's grip, as a clear sign for her to relent now.

For the maid, this little human woman, was in charge of this whole situation.

And so... Hannah released it.

Once again opening her eyes.

But this time letting the human woman truly see them.

The wanting, hungry, but enraptured gaze of a demon.

And Mey Rin slowly put her hand back down to her skirt, entwining her fingers together once again, not a singer shiver or drop of sweat in sight.

She closed her eyes behind her spectacles.

And smiled, brightly, up at the woman before her and her first love.

"Well," Mey Rin breathed, tone quiet and gentle, "why don't you come in, Miss Annafellows? An'.. we can discuss this further, yes we can."

Hannah looked again finally up at the other demon. The Marquis that was currently a butler here.

And currently this human woman's first and only love.

And he did look at her, but the look did not linger.

It immediately returned to Mey Rin.

And Sebastian put his hand at once on her shoulder.

"Sounds good to me, my dear,"

Was all he felt he needed to say.

And this small response seemed to warm the maid further, who nodded after his words, and yet still watched Hannah for her next response.

And indeed Hannah Annafellows smiled more, and nodded too.

"Yes, that sounds perfect," she found herself almost... sighing out.

And she followed the two lovers inside at once.